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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.

ORLANDO CRUZE

A name trending in all forms of social media this week, and for good reason. The recent announcement that he’ll be asked to step down as President of the company has some fans menstrual, and others mirthful. It creates the same response from the masses packed into the Manhattan Center tighter than sardines, when they see it spelled out on the door leading to Orlando’s office. Their reactions aren’t quite as severe when glimpsing the two figures stooped in front of the door, Sparkles wearing a stethoscope plugged into his non-existent ears, and Greyson Lovejoy wearing an expression of fear.

Lovejoy: You’re gonna get us waist deep in crap again, Sparkles.

Sparkles: SHUSH! I think I heard something.

The diaphragm is taped to the door with Lovejoy’s tiny hand glued to it.

Sparkles: Sounds like Orlando has been eating White Castles all night…

Lovejoy: Dear lord, the last time you had any of those I had to cut caramelized dingle berries out of your fur.

A slight grunt is heard from behind the camera, prompting Lovejoy to almost leap out of his pink bunny rabbit pajamas costume.

Lovejoy: Oh….uhhh…hi.

At last the rolling cameras are acknowledged.

Lovejoy: Sparkles and Greyson Lovejoy here outside the office of Orlando Cruze, doing absolutely nothing, nothing inappropriate at all.

Upon realizing that Sparkles still has the stethoscope wedged to the door, Lovejoy desperately rips away the tape and pries him away from his eavesdropping.

Sparkles: Don’t throw me around like you’re some kind of British nanny, Bitch…I’m working here.

Lovejoy raises the jaw of his puppet so that Sparkles can see the camera capturing every moment of his invasion of privacy. He shakes right down to his Officer Dingle, Reno 911, themed police uniform.

Sparkles: What the? Oh…how’s it hanging IWC….low and to the left?

Lovejoy: Sparkles and I are just hanging out here…

Sparkles: Well you are, I can’t with my obvious anatomical issues.

Lovejoy: As everyone who doesn’t live in a trunk would know via Twitter…

Sparkles: Hey, I live in a trunk, and I already have fifteen thousand followers on Twitter.

Lovejoy: As I was saying…everyone knows the breaking news that was posted over social media this week, that the Board of Directors have called for Orlando Cruze to resign as President of the IWC, after he made a tag team challenge to Frankie Paradise and Aaron Harrison.

Sparkles: But the human Oreo is sticking to his pepperoni nipples and not budging from his office. He’s doing one of those Lennon style bed-ins or something. He’s like a hot woman’s suffrage chick, only, without boobs…

Lovejoy: Yep. Orlando has remained tight lipped…

Sparkles: Almost as tight as the lips on Kathryn Pearson’s….

Lovejoy: OVER TWITTER, Orlando has stated that he will NOT step down as President of the company that HE built, BUT, we’ve yet to hear anything in an official capacity this evening…maybe he‘s had time to reconsider….or time has only strengthened his resolve.

Sparkles: So we’re gonna be camped out here all night long if that’s what it takes, until we get a word from Orlando, or at least until that cheese coney I ate earlier works its way into my lower intestines.

Lovejoy: Oh great…I’ll get the scissors ready.

The camera turns back towards the door, where Orlando awaits to make an official statement regarding rather he will or he won’t….rather he’ll go or he’ll stay….rather he’ll bend to the will of the Board of Directors or continue to stand his ground. Answers will follow as Riot! rolls along.

Pyrotechnics erupt from every conceivable point, stage, scaffolding, and Cartel-tron…they’d even explode from the stands, but if WrestleMania 24 taught us anything, that could lead to some terrible lawsuits. Speaking of the stands, those who fill them are adorned in various costumes, but alas, there are no Colt Cabana’s in pink fairy gear, though there are multiple Hulk Hogans employing a number of his bicep flexes, and even quite a few Giant Gonzalez’s in airbrushed body suits.

Dollar: We are officially live from our home base of operations, the Manhattan Center on a night that is already shaping up to be….interesting…to say the least.

Susie: Interesting? Try awesome….cause I finally got to put on my Halloween costume, been waiting soo long to bust this out.

Dollar: That may be the most garish costume I’ve ever seen in my life.

Cameras briefly segue to Susie, who is wearing a multi-colored afro, a ham brawl, leathery pantaloons, and a fake stubble around her chin and cheeks. Johnny on the other hand simply has a name-tag pasted to his chest that reads “God.”

Susie: Thank you, Johnny, I made the costume myself, I‘m going as Bob-ette.

Dollar: All you did was put a friggin pom-pom on your head…

Susie: I have you know that making a ham bra was not easy, especially since half of it ended up in my belly.

Dollar: Which brings me to my next point…we’ve got a STACKED line-up…see what I did there?

Susie: Sorry, the fragrance of my bra was too distracting.

Dollar:…The World Heavyweight Title will be on the line tonight as Taylor Chase defends against Katelyn Buehler….plus we‘ve got six person tag team action with strange bedfellows as the Black Crusade teams alongside P Clarence Whitman III, to take on the Blacklist and Kathryn Pearson. Don‘t know how they can possibly coexist. And we‘ve also got….

The opening strains pf Dimmu Borgir’s “Perfection or Vanity” begin to play as the Carteltron fills with the demonic logo of a stylized leviathan cross, the personal emblem of Mr. Leeland Gaunt, announcing his arrival.

Mr. Gaunt strides out, his butler Mr. Hush and Al to one side, his bodyguard Silence on the other. Gaunt raises his arms, holding his cane in one hand, grinning at the crowd, as if inviting them into his dark embrace. The image on screen flashes to various members of the crowd, zooming in on bits of jewelry, tattoos, t-shirts, posters, signs, banners, all of which have the same two traits in common: a spider and a Maltese cross.

A young man in the front without a shirt stands, matching Gaunt’s pose, grinning and nodding at the camera, the spider and cross the centerpiece of his manifold torso tattoos.

By this time Gaunt and his entourage have reached the ring, into which Gaunt enters via rolling under the bottom rope.

Dollar: Okay, Sparkles….Lovejoy…I can probably deal with those two….but when we’ve got the Black Crusade coming out here as well….interrupting me….that’s just too much of a mind-fuck for me to deal with.

Susie: A mind-fuck? Is that the same thing as letting someone put a dick in your ear?

In the spirit of the holiday, Silence and Mr. Hush seem to have switched costumes around, Silence’s mask and garb tightly wound around Mr. Hush, and Mr. Hush’s bowler hat and fancy dubs weighing down Silence. Al Todd Meriweather is also in a festive mood, dressed as Achmed the Dead Terrorist. The only person who doesn’t seem to be stuck on Halloween setting, is Mr. Gaunt, who just wears his coat and carries the cane hiding his blade…in one hand at least…as the other is already gripping a microphone.

Mr. Gaunt: Ah yes, we have arrived yet again at the threshold of another pagan Gaelic ritual, customarily known as All Hollow’s Eve. And as thus, I see a hodgepodge of Halloween costumes. There are a few python flashing Hogans, as opposed to the normal flashings we see on the streets of Manhattan. I spot a couple Heisenbergs out there as well, and maybe one or two odious Jersey Shore inspirations.

Those dressed in their spray on tans and leather vests, suddenly become self conscious upon being singled out.

Mr. Gaunt: Though there seems to be far more of you endorsing the concepts of fear, dressed as the manifestation of your nightmares. Which is in keeping with the true meaning behind this season. You dress as ghouls, goblins, Tiami Tylers…in an attempt to celebrate the things that make goosebumps form on your flesh, and tightens your sphincters to the point where urination becomes painful. And tonight the Black Crusade’s place of employment….

The IWC emblem beneath the feet of the Black Crusade is gestured to.

Mr. Gaunt:…is TRYING to endorsee this concept, through a number of Halloween inspired props that Mr. Laymon has seemingly procured from a number of bargain bins at the local grocery store s….

Attention is drawn from the canvas to the turnbuckles, which have Big Lots brand skeletons wrapped around them, price tags still attached so they can be returned later.

Mr. Gaunt: Tisk…tisk…this is no way…no way at all for the IWC to celebrate this glorious holiday. If they truly want to embody the festive feel that they’re attempting, then perhaps they should turn the reigns of this show over to the Black Crusade, who know a thing or two about fear. Yes, we’re once again offering our services to the betterment of IWC.

Cheers, and lots of them.

Mr. Gaunt: Considering that Orlando Cruze is no longer at the helm, if you pay attention to all that Twitter gossip, and Desmond Drake, and Jacob Laymon are presumably quite occupied at the moment, we, the Black Crusade, are willing to offer our assistance once again by filling the power vacuum.

Dollar: Is Gaunt offering to completely take over the IWC tonight?

Susie: As long as he puts some candy corn in my trick-or-treat bag, I’ll be happy. Though the bag is actually just my Princess Ariel pillow case.

Mr. Gaunt: It would only be fitting, would it not? That the group representing fear incarnate would run a show built around a theme of nightmares. I think it’s quite a splendid idea, yourself Al?

The mic is held to the lips of a man with no decibel control.

Al: A SPLENDIFEROUS IDEA!

Mr. Gaunt: But we’re not going to transform the IWC into some cheap house of horrors, no…we’ve got some legitimate ideas to inspi….

Laymon: NO!…NO!….N…..O….that spells NO!

Boos, and lots of them.

To the stage storms Jacob Laymon and his personal protection/head of security, Executioner. The pampered Laymon, and his massive Guy-Friday, wisely keep quite a bit of distance between themselves and the Black Crusade. Already, in spite of the fact that the show just got rolling, Laymon is at the end of his rope when it comes to dealing with Mr. Gaunt.

Laymon: Heeeeerreee’s JACOB! And last week, GAUNT, you might of got the better of me, but that’s not happening again….not tonight….and not ever again….as the NEW General Manager of Riot!, I now have the power to at last deal with you.

Mr. Gaunt: But Mr. Laymon, my dear boy, we’re merely here to help, not to be a hindrance.

Laymon: You’re a damn nuisance is what you are. An aggravation I should have dealt with a long time ago. That changes here tonight, cause I’m going to nip this in the bud right now…

Al: A THOUSAND APOLOGIES…

Interrupts Al after a brief aside with Mr. Hush.

Al: …BUT MR. HUSH WANTS TO KNOW WHAT THINGS IN PARTICULAR YOU LIKE IN YOUR BUM.

It takes Laymon a moment to make sense out of what he’s hearing.

Laymon: Wha…what? No…NO…I said nip it in the bud…not stick it up my butt you deviant!

Al: CAUSE WE PLANNED ON STOPPING BY THE PET-STORE TO PURCHASE SOME SERPANTS TO MAKE MR. GAUNT LOOK SO WONDERFULLY MENACING IN FUTURE PROMOS. WE COULD EASILY PROCURE SOME ADORABLE LITTLE GERBILS WHILE WE’RE THERE.

Laymon: Are you serious? The last thing I would let up my butt are gerbils….Wait…wait…I don’t want ANYTHING up my butt.

Al: EXCEPT FOR THAT BIG STICK…HAHAHAHA!

Mr. Hush and Al nudge elbows against one another’s biceps.

Mr. Gaunt: I’m sure that Taylor Chase has something battery operated to help you indulge your anal fixation.

Laymon: The only anal fixation I have, is the one where I take my boot and ram it straight up your rear-end.

Mr. Gaunt: Hmmm, so now you’re anally fixated on me? I’m afraid we don’t prescribe to the same fetishes, Mr. Laymon.

Jacob’s lower lip trembles, hives pop through his flesh, and the slight stubble of hair on top of his head is already turning gray, all tell-tale indicators that he’s suffering serious anxiety.

Laymon: I’m not putting anything in your ass, Gaunt…I’m just going to take my fist and ram it….wait…wait…this isn’t sounding right.

Mr. Gaunt: Did you just insinuate you were going to ‘fist’ me?

Laymon: That’s not….God dammit…that’s NOT what I was trying to say. I was saying that I’m going to take all five knuckles and cram it straight into your hole….NO!!

Mr. Gaunt: My word, Mr. Laymon, I was unaware of your unusual proclivities.

Immediately Laymon lowers his fist to his side and begins to shake his head towards the judgmental crowd.

Laymon: He’s twisting my words…don’t you people get that? He’s trying to make me look like a fool. What I’m saying is that I’m going to take my fist and put it right into your lips….

Mr. Gaunt: Are you talking to me, or Silence?

He gestures to the only female member of the Black Crusade, who immediately employs her palms to protect areas south of her belt.

Laymon: No, of course not, I only fist men…not woman….no…GOD NO!!

The one free hand is used to palm his face.

Mr. Gaunt: I’m sure Executioner can attest to that.

Laymon: Can I just say what I was going to say and get this over with?

Mr. Gaunt: I really wish you would.

Laymon: I’m here to proposition you, Mr. Gaunt….DAMMIT!!

A stomp to the stage and a tizzy is thrown by Laymon, who just can’t say a single sentence without it being easily misconstrued.

Laymon: You do this Executioner.

The microphone is thrust into the broad chest of the masked goliath, who looks totally and completely out of his depth when tasked with public speaking. He nervously lifts the microphone to his lips.

Executioner: Grrrrr?

He shrugs his shoulders after making the grunt.

Executioner: Grrr…grrr….Grrrr!

Laymon: Give that back to me…You’re useless…absolutely USELESS!

The microphone is ripped right out of Executioner’s hand and returned to the clutches of his outraged employer.

Laymon: Gaunt, you want something, and I want something.

Mr. Gaunt: Yes, but I’m afraid no compromise on the planet is going to allow for you to stick your fist in my….

Laymon: That’s NOT the compromise I’m talking about. You want to run tonight’s show, and I want to run you and the rest of the Black Crusade right out of the IWC for good. I’m sick of you guys constantly undermining me. Constantly going out of your way to aggravate me.. So here’s the deal….here’s how I’m going to get rid of you imbeciles once and for all. If you want to run Riot! this evening, fine, then I get to handpick a member of the Black Crusade to face Executioner right here, right now. If they win, you get to run Riot! tonight, but when Executioner wins, then the member of the Black Crusade he pins, is gone…done…vamoose…They forfeit their contract, pack it up, and leave the IWC never to be seen again.

Mr. Gaunt overlooks his gathering, the four entering into immediate consultation with one another. After several moments of debate, the four separate and Mr. Gaunt directs his comments to the emotionally wrought Laymon.

Mr. Gaunt: Clearly you’ve suffered some form of transient ischemic attack, Mr. Laymon, which happens to those under extreme stress. You’re not thinking clearly, because the Black Crusade isn’t here to create a nuisance, we’re here to help alleviate the burden you’ve been carrying around on your shoulders. But…if deflecting your aggravations upon us is the only way you can achieve a stress release, then we’ll gladly aid you in that department. So go ahead, choose our newest and most inexperienced member, Al Todd-Meriweather, so we can set up this whole underdog, David versus Goliath scenario that intrigues viewers enough to continue tuning in after the obligatory commercial break.

Laymon is as pale as the pillow case Susie Moore is holding.

Laymon: That…that wasn’t my idea at all.

Mr. Gaunt: Sure it wasn’t.

Laymon: Really…it wasn’t….because as Silencer has been saying for the past few weeks, the only way to deal with a snake, is to cut it off at the head. Which is why Executioner, he’s going one on one with YOU! Mr. Gaunt! And the rest of the Black Crusade, their barred from ringside!

Instead of a growl, a different noise emanates from Executioner, a chuckle.

Laymon: Too late to back out now, Gaunt. The risk might not outweigh the reward for the Black Crusade, but you’ve already agreed to the stipulation. Your bed has been made, now its time to lay in it.

Mr. Gaunt simply extends his arms to his sides, allowing Silence and Al to slip his coat off his arms and to take his walking staff.

Dollar: Seriously? Are we going to see this? Leeland Gaunt versus Executioner right here? Right now? No Black Crusade at ringside to help Gaunt? And if he loses, then he’s released from his contract, but if he wins, the Black Crusade is going to run our show tonight?

Susie: I’m so hyped my nipples are turning this ham bra into a shish-kabob right now.

At the behest of Mr. Gaunt, the rest of the Black Crusade begins to exit the ring, leaving Gaunt to square off one on one with the massive Executioner, who steps…nay…almost skips towards the ring.

Dollar: Can’t believe the way this show is getting underway tonight, Executioner versus Mr. Gaunt, with Leeland’s IWC career on the line, and he will not have his bodyguard Silence, or the rest of the Black Crusade at ringside to watch his back. I don’t think Gaunt knows what he’s gotten himself into.

Gaunt casually leans against the turnbuckle, showing no anxiety at the sight of Executioner standing opposed to him cracking his knuckles.

And we are back live with the sight of Gaunt actually standing with chest wedged to the gut of the much taller, and far more physically imposing Legion. Referee Michelle Blacker, is already in the ring, calling for the bell, and looking eager to witness some violence.

Dollar: You’re not seeing things people, this is how we’re starting Riot this evening, Leeland Gaunt is about to go one on one with Executioner. If Gaunt wins, the Black Crusade takes control of the IWC this evening, if Executioner wins, Gaunt goes adios.

Susie: I love adios, I’m wearing a pair of them on my feet right now.

Dollar: That’s Adidas, you brainless twat.

Just as the match gets underway Executioner lifts one of his palms high, high above his head, calling for the test of strength even though he knows his hand is well out of Gaunt’s reach. That’s exactly his point, driving home the fact that he absolutely dwarfs Gaunt.

That’s no problem for Leeland, who looks to cut the lumbering giant down to a less formidable size, delivering a quick buzz-saw kick to the back of Executioner’s knee. The big man grows irate after the shot, throwing a huge right hand directly into Gaunt’s face. But the Black Crusade leader remains elusive, ducking the shot, and stepping around behind his massive opponent, who he hits with a second buzz saw kick to the crease of the knee.

Executioner almost goes down, but then throws another big right hand that Gaunt once again ducks under. The gigantic proportions of Executioner seem to be a curse rather than a blessing against the much smaller, and much quicker Gaunt. Kick after kick nails the back of both of Executioner’s legs, beginning to wear down the goliath.

He then steps in to deliver yet another buzz saw kick only to have his leg caught under the thick arm of his opponent. Executioner pushes the leg down to the canvas and then steps forward and drives his skull right into Leeland’s, head butt almost shattering the orbital socket of Gaunt.

Dollar: Mr. Gaunt was holding his own there for a while, but Executioner’s sheer size and strength is just TOO overpowering.

Susie: So is his body odor.

For the first time since his arrival in the IWC, Mr. Gaunt feels legitimate pain, lying on the canvas and cradling his skull in his hands. He slowly turns to his chest and stomach, starting to get up only to have Executioner move in, step onto his lower back and push him down to the canvas. The crowd squeals at the sight of the massive Head of Security standing on top of Gaunt’s kidneys. Leeland shakes his head as anguish flows through his lower body, what with over 300 pounds of humanity standing on his lower back. He grips the top rope in the process to add further leverage.

Michelle is slow to make the five count, quite enjoying the sight of Mr. Gaunt in a state of perpetual misery. She finally stops in time to prevent Mr. Gaunt from ending up in a worse state than Christopher Reeve’s.

But Executioner will not be derailed from putting his adversary in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. He stoops down, grabs Gaunt by the hair and uses it to drag him up to his feet, hoisting him high into the air by his bangs. But the moment he pulls his feet off the canvas, Leeland twists his body and nails another buzz saw kick right to the masked man’s tricep.

The hold on his locks is broken, allowing Leeland to drop back to his feet right in front of the imposing goliath. Executioner then steps forward to exact further punishment when Mr. Gaunt catches him with a drop toe hold, or at least tries to. Executioner stands his ground, his girth and sheer proportions keeping him from being taken down by the much smaller Gaunt and his drop toe hold attempt.

Executioner actually scoffs at the notion that he could be taken down by the manager of the Black Crusade, and then he bends down to put his mitts on the throat of his opposition. The second he reaches down with his arm, Gaunt breaks the drop toe hold attempt and wraps his legs around the tree trunk thick bicep of his opponent instead. He sits up and grabs the wrist, trying to pull Executioner down into a version of the crossface this time.

Executioner swings around with his opposite fist, looking to break free when Gaunt turns just enough to turn the big man’s momentum into a version of the triangle choke.

Dollar: The Gogoplata locked in on Executioner. Is the giant gonna tap?

Susie: I would much prefer to see him break dance rather than tap. Go get a cardboard box he can do some windmills.

Executioner gasps and groans in pain, flailing his one free arm around in pure desperation. It doesn’t take long for him to come to terms with the inevitable, instantly tapping out to the Gogoplata.

Dollar: And he taps! Executioner just submitted to Leeland Gaunt within seconds…SECONDS of this match starting. UNREAL!

Susie: If not a windmill, how about a head-stand slide? That be the shiznizzle.

Dollar: I can’t believe Gaunt has just earned a quick tap out victory….but ummm…where’s the bell?

Though it goes against her masochistic desires to call for the bell instead of allowing the pain to persist, Blacker would no doubt be signaling for the conclusion to his match, but alas, she’s distracted by Laymon. With a steel chair in hand, Jacob darts towards the ring and leaps to the apron mere moments before the submission. Michelle steps in to cut him off but then stops when she sees that the former head of talent relations turned Genera Manager, is brandishing a steel chair. This entices her to grin, step back and watch with hands on knees…the thought of violence has her foaming at the mouth.

Dollar: It’s Laymon! Jacob is distracting the referee…and it looks like Blacker is just going to let him interfere. Why oh why do they let a sadomasochistic have a job as a referee? What kind of sense does that make?

Susie: If Executioner can just pull off a few Baby Spins, he’d be perfect for a Breaking remake, or sequel….they can call it Breaking 3: Dance Till You Pee.

Dollar: Epic.

Executioner has stopped tapping, and is now passing out to the pain, but Laymon is about to put an end to his suffrage. He lifts the chair above his head and descends upon Gaunt,, about to squash him with the steel when the chair is snatched right out of his hands. He turns around just in time to be clocked to the jaw with the Epic Fail by of all people…Katelyn Buehler. The strike outright obliterates Laymon’s non-existent chin, sending him down to the canvas the hard way. Katelyn, who is no trouble to making things hard for men, turns to make eye contact with Mr. Gaunt, who has broken his submission hold.

Dollar: BUEHLER! Katelyn Buehler out of nowhere, she just dropped the General Manager with an Epic Fail…but why…why did she come to the aide of Mr. Gaunt?

Susie: Didn’t she express gratitude or something to him last week when he forced her to stand up to her fears?

Dollar: Indeed…which is part of the reason she was bold enough to lay down the challenge to Taylor Chase tonight for a World Title match.

Katelyn gives a respectful nod to Gaunt before vacating the ring, leaving him to do his thing. Mr. Gaunt rises to his feet and steps over Laymon, giving him a headshake, with the judgmental brow furrow and all. In the midst of all his brow furrowing, Mr. Gaunt, fails to notice that Executioner has a chair and is descending upon him. He lifts the steel high above his head when Leeland turns around, ducks the shot and then delivers a superkick to the back of Executioner’s knee.

The masked goliath collapses to his back right on top of Laymon, and then Mr. Gaunt grabs his legs, swings around them and applies the modified figure four. Within mere seconds of being put in the hold Executioner is tapping out for a second time, eliciting a loud roar from the crowd. In the process of submitting, he’s unintentionally slapping Laymon in the face, as the GM remains underneath him.

Dollar: Mr. Gaunt is making Executioner tap…AGAIN!

Susie: Does no one have an appreciation for break dancing like I do?

Dollar: This submission…dear God no…means that Gaunt has just won the right to run tonight’s show.

Clearly Jacob has no earthly idea that his liege has just submitted to Gaunt, officially turning his power over to the maestro of the Black Crusade this evening….but WAIT…Michelle didn’t see the submission take place, yet again out of position as she’s in the process of tossing the steel chair to the outside mats. Gaunt releases the submission hold, believing that he’s picked up the victory and rolls away, rising triumphantly to his feet only to be sent crashing right back down to earth thanks in large part to a forearm delivered right between the shoulder blades. The crowd reacts with the normal vile spewed at Aaron Harrison. The venom being spat towards the ring only increases when Mika Kozlov and Lukas Montgomery slide in as well.

Dollar: Now it’s the Blacklist! This group of monsters pouncing on Gaunt.

Susie: Their all over him like stretch marks on Kristie Alley’s stomach.

Dollar: And….to make matters even worse for Gaunt…Blacker never saw him making Executioner tap out. Meaning he didn’t actually win this match.

The bell does chime now, because Michelle’s hand has been forced by the Blacklist, ending this confrontation in a double disqualification. She turned in time to see Montgomery stomping away at Executioner at the same time that Harrison is putting boots to Gaunt.

Dollar; And now Michelle’s just gonna throw out the match?

Susie: Before we got to see any break dancing? LAME!

Gaunt tries to take a page out of his devotee’s playbook by curling into a pillbug style fetal position, wrapping himself in a protective cocoon with his own body. But the Blacklist is on him before he can do that, stretching out his limbs and subjecting him to stomp after stomp to the mid-section. Now Gaunt begins to fire back, delivering a big kick to the side of Montgomery’s head from his laid out position.

Lukas twists into the ropes, falling against them while Harrison reaches down to get his hands on the Black Crusade manager. Yet again Mr. Gaunt catches the inbound fist and counters into the Gogoplata.

Dollar: This is backfiring in a major way for the Blacklist. They tried to jump Gaunt but he’s holding his own against them. I think they…much like Laymon and Executioner, underestimated what this guy is capable of.

Susie: Apparently it’s not break dancing.

A heel….not the wrestler slang for villain…but an actual heel….of the high heel variety….digs into Gaunt’s face and grinds across his eyes, forcing him to break the triangle choke on Harrison. After scraping her shoe against Leeland’s eye, Mika quickly takes hold of his wrist and drags him over to his knees. She then hooks both arms and drops back into the Das-Vi-Dania.

The high impact collision of skull to canvas sends Leeland flipping to his side. Ultimately he rolls towards Executioner, who is lying on his side next to Laymon. Just as Gaunt gets to his elbows and knees, a chair brings him back down to his stomach, swung by Harrison directly to the spine of the Black Crusade leader.

Mr. Gaunt flops to his back, arching his now crooked spine from the canvas in a display of pain. The chair in Harrison’s hand is then turned so that he can place the top edge down directly into Leeland’s throat, beginning to choke the life out of him.

Just as it appears that Mr. Gaunt is going the way of the Dodo…or going to be subjected to the same harsh punishments as Kellen Jeffries, Denile Partis and Dwayne Rodriquez, he reaches out and grabs at the shirt of an unsuspecting Executioner, lifting up on it to reveal the sigil tattooed into his lower back. He bites his finger to produce a small amount of blood and then slaps his hand down on the engraving. Suddenly the lights in the building go dead.

Dollar: The power is out…apparently quite a few wrestling companies have been having this issue lately.

The rolling blackout only lasts for a moment, just long enough to allow Mr. Gaunt to evade further punishment. When the lights raise, we see the Blacklist meandering about the ring, Harrison’s steel chair no longer in his hands, but more importantly, no Mr. Gaunt being choked on the opposite end of it. Both Laymon and Executioner have also vanished from the ring, leaving only Montgomery, Kozlov and Harrison inside.

Dollar: Where has Mr. Gaunt and the GM vanished to?

Susie: I didn’t know Mr. Gaunt was secretly Chris Angel, I volunteer to be sawed in half next.

Dollar: If only…if only.

The Blacklist continue to gander about their surroundings, but once it becomes apparent that there is no Gaunt…there is no Laymon…and not even the scraps of Executioner to be fed under the table…they simply shrug in total synchronicity.

Mika: Guess that’s how the cookie crumbles, comrades.

Instead of wrapping his hands around the throat of Mr. Gaunt, Harrison intends on putting it around a microphone. Like a bug light he entices Jessica in, luring his prey to tentatively give him the microphone. But that’s only half of what he wanted. He now snatches hold of Wilde’s wrist and drags her into the ring.

Dollar: Jessica Wilde, our ring announcer, has just fallen into the clutches of the Black Crusade! They were determined to get their hands on someone tonight, and Jessica just walked right into their trap.

Susie: These three really need some stress release candles.

A terrified Jessica screams and thrashes, then screams and thrashes some more…why…because that’s all she can do. There seems to be no way out of the clutches of Harrison, but he appears more concerned with the microphone she clutches in favor of turning her into another of his victims. He lifts her wrist and in the process raises the microphone to his twisted lips.

Harrison: Halloween? Really? That’s the modus operandi for the Black Crusade to run tonight’s show? Though I have the utmost respect for Mr. Gaunt, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disagree with him. I came out here to have a gentlemanly conversation with him regarding as such, but alas, he ran away just as I was about to politely air my grievances.

A chant of bullshit properly calls Harrison out on….just that….his bullshit.

Harrison: The Black Crusade is not going to run tonight’s show….that’s simply unacceptable. Orlando Cruze, has been striped of his powers, so he’s not in charge either. Desmond Drake, an ineffective half-ling incapable of running Riot! And Jacob Laymon….enough said. But the Blacklist, that’s another story. We’ve efficiently run things up until now, so how about we do so in an official capacity? As of tonight, the Blacklist takes over.

Jessica is released and she immediately begins to rub her red wrist as she rolls to the exterior of the ring.

Dollar: The Blacklist have warded off the Black Crusade, and now THEIR taking over the show?

Susie: This is making it hard on me to figure out who’s ass I’m supposed to be kissing.

Dollar: Agreed. With Orlando being asked to step down as President of the IWC, this leaves a huge power vacuum, as Mr. Gaunt eluded to earlier, and apparently, the Blacklist is going to fill it.

Mika and Aaron embrace in a smooch, while Montgomery leans forearms first over the top rope, laughing over the anger he sees in the eyes of all the spectators.

Tick-tock…tick-tock…tick-tock….

The tattered remnants of a dress jut out from beneath a skyblue turtle neck sweater wrapped about a filthy…filthy woman. Long greasy hair hangs in front of the face of the ghostly figment who leans with her face wedged to a wall, talking to herself.

They shouldn’t have done it…they should have never have opened this place again, there’s been too much trouble here.

She turns so that only her eye is visible from beneath the parted hair.

Did you know that a young girl was beaten and bloodied…that her World Heavyweight Title was stolen from her…and that the IWC upper brass did nothing…They were too busy obsessing over the Board of Directors…over the Championship as the poor girl was mangled and mutilated. And they‘ve let so many other things happen…to so many others…when they should have been watching…watching them at all times.

Into the distance the young lady gazes, as if hearing some phantom voice in the back of her head.

Yes…love…I hear you…I hear you…

Back to the camera her attention turns.

The IWC is my baby, and today…today is it’s Awakening.

Trailing off as if hearing that voice again.

I couldn’t let them open this place again…not after everything they’ve let happen…could I?….My sweet…innocent IWC.

Her one visible eye stares off into the distance.

Tick-tock…tick-tock…tick-tock.

Lovejoy squats and squirms impatiently outside of Orlando’s office, tucking his leg to his stomach. It appears that he’s in the most extreme discomfort imaginable. If Sparkles could frown, that’s exactly what he would be doing, growing agitated by the ventriloquists many gyrations and gesticulations.

Sparkles: What the hell is wrong with you?

Lovejoy: I’ve got to piss so bad I can taste it.

Sparkles: Then why did you drink those two big gulps before we got here tonight.

Lovejoy: I was thirsty.

Sparkles: Well then go and take a piss, I don’t need you anyhow. You’ll just cramp my style when I try to interview Orlando.

Lovejoy: I would, but this costume is an absolute bitch to get out of.

Sparkles: Well you’re the one who insisted on dressing up as Ralphie from a Christmas story. You could have just as easily as gone as Deputy Clementine Johnson, and that way we at least would have matched.

Lovejoy: But I don’t have the cleavage to pull off Clementine.

The pain is just getting too severe for Lovejoy to endure, crossing his legs is doing nothing to alleviate the pressure.

Sparkles; If you’re so worried about missing Orlando, just piss in a cup. You still got that Big Gulp don’t you?

Lovejoy: I…I can’t….it’s too public…

Sparkles: Quit being such a bashful little Twatty McWhiney Bitch….and take a piss already. You‘re throwing off my mojo dammit.

Lovejoy: Fine! Just keep an eye out for anyone.

He picks up the cup sitting on the ground just outside Orlando’s office and steps as far off camera as possible to do his business while continuing to hold up his obnoxious puppet.

Lovejoy: Ahhhh…

Sparkles: Jesus Christ, did a pipe just burst?

Lovejoy: Feels almost orgasmic….

Christian: Is he in there!?!

The whole building vibrates at the sight of Christian Savior….who shows no trepidation, no hesitation…having absolutely no qualms upon marching straight to the door of the Icon. A loud yelp escapes Lovejoy, who desperately tries to fix his pink bunny costume to conceal his lower extremities while dropping the urine filled Big Gulp.

Sparkles: Hey, Mr. Metrosexual….Yeah, I think he’s in there….but I’d put a clothes pin on your nose, cause from what I heard earlier, sounds like he has a case of the White Castle craps at the moment.

Christian: Get the hell out of my way.

The puppet is pushed aside by Christian’s hand, while his foot raises and kicks the door in. The lock breaks off the hinges and flies open, revealing the interior to the office, where oddly enough there seems to be a woman seated….seated right in the President’s chair….back turned towards the door. From what little can be discerned, there seems to be a gray nest of hair perched upon the woman’s head, affixed into a pony tail, while a ratty, off white afghan sits over her shoulders.

Christian: Ummmm, Orlando?

There is no response from the motionless and emaciated woman seated in the chair, prompting Christian to step closer and speak up.

Christian: Excuse me? Are you Orlando’s mom or something?

There seems to be actual trepidation as he extends his fingers, grabs the chair and turns it around to reveal the skeletal remains of a decrepit old soul seated in Orlando’s chair. Christian would react in horror if it weren’t for the giant ‘CLEARENCE’ sticker pasted to the prop’s forehead.

Orlando: What’s wrong with knocking?

Christian jumps slightly as he turns around and spots Orlando Cruze standing in the doorway with a giant knife in his palm. Before responding his eyes cut between Cruze’s face, and the sharp blade in his hand.

Orlando: Oh…sorry…needed something to cut this string off my jacket.

Said loose fabric is gestured to on his forearm.

Christian: Can it, Cruze…I’m not here to play nice.

Orlando steps over to his chair, grabs one of Jacob Laymon’s many Halloween props and tosses it across the room before taking his seat.

Orlando: Wouldn’t expect anything less.

Christian: I have demands Orlando, and you’re going to meet them.

Orlando: What’s with the base in your tone, Christian? I thought we had kind of hashed out our differences last week.

Christian: Seriously? Did you honestly think a twenty minute conversation in the backseat of a police cruiser could fix all the problems between us? Could make up for all the stunts you’ve pulled over the past couple of months? Making me compete against Legion with my hands cuffed? Forcing Rose to go against everything she stands for by bashing me in the skull with a Singapore cane? And screwing the Savior‘s out of the World Title again and again? You can really sit there and think that one conversation makes up for months worth of torment?

Orlando: Kinda.

Savior literally has to bite his lip.

Orlando: And who says I‘m trying to make up for anything? Because, I‘m not.. Got nothing to apologize for…

Blood begins to form in his lower lip.

Orlando: I did what I did to you, your wife, and to Silencer, because I believed, and still do believe, that it was best for the IWC….

Christian: I’m not here to listen to you martyr yourself, Orlando, you don’t deserve sympathy, or understanding. What you’ve done, is unforgivable, no matter what shade you paint it in. So just shut your mouth and listen for once….

A deep breathe is taken as he tries to get his thoughts in some linear pattern.

Christian: Rose isn’t here tonight because of what those jackals did to her last week….I want payback…

Orlando: Which is why you’re getting Aaron Harrison one on one tonight.

Christian: That’s not enough! I don’t want Aaron in just any match…I want him no holds barred….no count outs….nothing to stop me from….from….

Orlando:: I get it…I get it….I’m more than willing to compromise, Christian.

Christian: I think that’s in your best interest…..

It takes a moment for Christian to read between the lines. He’s a little slower on the uptake this evening due to the rage that clouds his mind, fueled by the images of the blood soaked Rose laying in his arms.

Christian: And what do you mean…compromise?

Orlando: I do something for you, you do something for me.

Christian: No…no…no, you already owe me, you owe me big.

Orlando: I owe you nothing, Christian. If you want this match tonight, then you’ll agree to meet my terms…

Christian: What terms?

Orlando: I presume that you’ve heard about the matches I’ve been lined up for over the next few weeks, well it just so happens I need someone to help me make sure one of those matches goes smoothly. It would give you the opportunity you’ve been waiting for, to stand in the ring with me the Icon…

The snicker is not the reaction Orlando was anticipating.

Christian: Let me TRY to get this straight. You go and you book yourself in a tag match with Paradise and Harrison, that’s got you into such hot water with the Board, and you didn’t even have a tag team partner picked out yet?

Orlando: While that is true…it doesn’t have anything…

Christian: And now your expecting me…ME of all people to bail you out?

Orlando: Christian…Christian, you’ve got this all wrong…

Christian: If I thought for a second I could trust you…even a second…I’d jump at another chance to get my hands on Harrison, and around the throat of Paradise….but I will never….NEVER trust you, Orlando. You think I‘m buying into this whole ‘redemption‘ bullshit? I‘ve tried this before, I‘ve lured hapless victims, just like you, into a false sense of security, into dropping their guard, and then BAM! I used that opportunity to reveal my true intentions…to show them that I was playing them like nothing but a fiddle the whole damned time….

Orlando: Enough….Christian…you‘re not listening to me…I‘m trying to give you the opportunity of a lifetime….

Christian: I hate to speak in clichés, Orlando, but you’ve made your bed, time to lay in it.

That’s it…that’s all Christian has left to say…wait…nope…he has one last comment to make before exiting the room, stopping right in the doorway to glance back at the Icon.

Christian: Oh, and when all is said and done with Harrison, I’m going to be paying you a visit, next.

Christian is forced to fight his way out of the office, given the contingent of security guards now amassed before him. A smile forms on the face of Orlando at the sight of his protective security detail, at last intervening before Christian could….wait…nope….they seem totally disinterested in Savior, letting him slip right through. They then approach Orlando, surrounding him and his desk.

Security: Mr. Cruze….

Orlando: It‘s high time you guys got here. You‘ve kept me waiting all night long.

Security: Sorry Mr. Cruze, we’ve had a very busy evening already.

Orlando: I don’t want excuses…all I want to hear right now is….yes sir…or no sir. Understood?

Security Guard: Yes Sir.

Orlando: Very good…and buck up already, you won’t have to deal with my insufferable reign as Boss for very much longer, but until Mr. D gets here tonight and officially removes me from my job, I’M in charge. And speaking of Mr. D, I want you guys to give him total access to the backstage area…I don’t want anyone holding him back or keeping him from meeting me face to face.

Security Guard: THE Mr. D is going to be here tonight?

Orlando: According to Twitter, yes, yes he will be. And he had better show up, after that little phone call I placed to his office CHALLENGING HIM, and only HIM to meet me in the middle of that ring so we can finally settle the dispute between he and my family. So again…what do you do when Mr. D shows up tonight?

Security Guard: Let him in.

Orlando: Excellent. And you make sure no one…not a soul lays a finger on him. Got it?

Security Guard: Yes Sir.

Orlando: And when you do run into him, tell him I’m not going to be in my office if he wants to meet me…I’m not going to give him the cheap thrill of kicking me out of my own office…or letting him save face by doing this behind closed doors. If he wants to reveal himself for the cold, callous bastard he is, he’s gonna do it in front of the world…Not in an office…but in a ring.

Security Guard: I’ll relay the message.

Orlando: You damn well better.

Orlando picks up a box from behind his desk, filled with all the items that were once spread across its surface. The Orlando bobble-heads and cracked family pictures stuffed within said box. He leaves with his personal belongings before taking one last long look at the office that has truly grown on him over the past few months.

Back live….the interior of the Manhattan Center…where anticipation is building for the next match while the crowd also makes a futile attempt to come down from the last scene involving Orlando’s extraction from his office. And as if the crowd wasn’t already on enough of an emotional roller coaster, they now endure a series of stomach churning loops when they spot Lukas Montgomery seated beside the ring bell, Aaron Harrison standing at ringside with a referee jersey on, and Mika Kozlov within the squared circle, microphone clutched in her palms.

Dollar: Well we just found out that Mr. D is going to be here tonight apparently, because Orlando challenged him to step up and fire him like a man. Then Cruze taking one of those long nostalgic looks at his office before leaving it for perhaps the very last time.

Susie: But where’s he gonna get a desk to slam his fists against?

Dollar: I’m sure he’ll make due, unlike the competitors slated to go at it up next. Nathan Creed and Gavin Taylor scheduled to face off with the Blacklist surrounding the ring. They said just moments before the commercial break that they were taking over, and now we see it literally playing out before our eyes. Mika Kozlov is our ring announcer, Aaron Harrison is our special guest enforcer, and Lukas Montgomery is our time keeper. And here I felt bad for Orlando, when Nathan and Gavin are in for far…far worse.

Mika at last breaks the tension, or only adds to it, as she lifts the microphone to her lips.

Mika: Damy i gospoda! The following blood-letting is scheduled for whenever we’ve decided they’ve had enough….

She gestures to herself, Montgomery and Harrison. It’s then that ‘Chalk Outline’ explodes through the speakers and Nathan Creed explodes through the curtains. Everything is positively explosive, including Creed’s anger as he descends upon the ring, but he doesn’t come alone…because griped in his palm is a solid steel bar, one he intends on putting to some very destructive purposes.

Mika: On his way to the ring, which explains why I’m exiting right now….

Wisely Mika is clearing to the outside when she spots Nathan entering with his steel bar companion.

Mika: ‘Britain’s Whiniest,’ Nathan Creed!

She backs away from the ring…or more accurately, the pipe protruding through the ropes and stopping just inches form her face. Nathan makes a series of threats towards Mika, then turns his attention to Harrison, who was starting to ascend to the apron. He pulls back his bar in a swinging position, ready to cleave his head from his shoulders. Aaron drops back and steps to Mika’s side, the two discussing their sinister gameplan.

Dollar: Nathan Creed has so many problems with the Blacklist, ever since the day he stepped foot back in this company. He tried to help Orlando see the light but then had his lights turned out by the Blacklist.

Susie: He should pay his electricity bills then…

Dollar: Why pay his bills? The United States government doesn’t…Hazzah! I just worked in a political pun.

Susie: If I watched the news, instead of watching episodes of the Voice, I’d so know what you were talking about right now.

Dollar: I doubt it. Anyway, Nathan is going to have to be watching his back with the Blacklist surrounding him. He’s in a lot of trouble here.

A very cautious Creed continues to examine the subjects surrounding him, the trio that understandably has him on his toes. ’Whoa is Me” by Down With Webster gets the same type of response that the sight of Orlando’s door did earlier, quite the mixed ovation heard for Gavin Taylor. The fans warm up to him a little though, when they spot the protection that Gavin brings along with him…no….not Adam Chase…though he’s proved to be a pretty effective weapon over the past few weeks….but the baseball bat clutched in Gavin’s palms. The Real World Jedi and Chase descend upon the ring, with Gavin leaping to the apron before hesitating to enter, taking a moment to examine his opponent, and the Blacklist.

Dollar: The odds just evened up slightly, because Gavin Taylor is here with an equalizer of his own. He’s set to face Creed, but who knows, this might turn into a tag team match of sorts if the Blacklist does get involved. Which is a foregone conclusion at this point. Remember, the reason this match was booked in the first place is because Taylor and Creed were fighting over who would get their hands on the Blacklist first.

Susie: Well now they can both get their hands on them…YAY! It’s so nice to see them sharing.

Mika continues her introductions, playing along.

Kozlov: And his opponent, weighing in tonight at a chunky 240 pounds, and believe me, it shows in your love handles Darling…Gavin Taylor!

First Gavin pinches the skin on his sides and then grimaces at a smiling Kozlov. Before he can exact revenge, perhaps falling right into the clutches of the Blacklist, Nathan intercedes. He steps in front of Gavin and puts a palm to his chest, holding him back. The palm is slapped away from his sternum and now Creed and Taylor go nose to nose, but Nathan is playing the part of peace keeper instead of agitator.

He gestures between himself and Gavin, then to the weapons in both their hands, before ultimately singling out the Blacklist.

Dollar: Pfft, yeah right, Creed, Gavin doesn’t play well with others. If you think you’re going to play on his valor, you’re so mistaken.

To everyone’s surprise, especially Chase’s, Gavin actually nods.

Dollar: Maybe I was wrong.

Nathan and Taylor knuckle up then turn to get their hands on the Blacklist, but the only physicality witnessed is the bat finding its way to Creed’s shoulder. Nathan collapses to the canvas, grabbing at his arm to nothing but wails from the audience. The bat is then pitched to the outside of the ring and Gavin immediately begins stomping away at Creed’s shoulder.

Dollar: Gavin saw an opportunity and he jumped all over it…brilliant Taylor…brilliant.

Even the Blacklist offers an applaud, albeit an insincere one. Nathan crawls towards the ropes and pulls himself up to his knees, making the unwise decision to drape his injured arm over the middle cable. This allows Gavin the chance to rush in, leap into the air and drop seat first right across the shoulder of his opponent, perhaps popping it right out of its socket. Official Fitzpatrick races to the ring and slides in, instantly motioning for the bell which Lukas gleefully strikes with the hammer.

Dollar: I’ve never seen someone ring a bell so happily in my entire life.

Susie: I know it makes me happy whenever I hear it. Makes me get all twitchy in my undergarments.

Dollar: Yeah, so does Chlamydia, something else I’m sure you’re no stranger to.

Fitzpatrick immediately clears the ring of weapons, hoping to get some semblance of order to this match. Too little…too late…the damage has been done, Nathan is hurting, his shoulder swelling, his rotator cuff perhaps fractured on image with the baseball bat. In steps Taylor to continue pressing his advantage. He grabs Nathan by the arm, extends it out to his side and begins to deliver elbow after elbow to the back of the shoulder and the bicep. He then stretches the arm out to his side as far as it will go and then delivers a swift kick directly to the tricep.

Creed brings his arm to his sternum and rolls towards the turnbuckle, grabbing at it with his free hand and employing it to reach his feet, Gavin then steps in behind him, grabs his arm folds it around behind his back and then throws him down shoulder first into the second turnbuckle pad. Nathan bounces off the corner padding and remains propped against it.

Dollar: Creed with absolutely no offense thus far…unless you consider his body odor.

Susie: You big mean…Hehehehe. See what I did there. I’m getting in character.

Dollar: You know, just because your dressed as Bob, you’ll never be on his IQ level, which shockingly, is probably higher than your own.

A feeble attempt is made by Nathan to get up only to have his arm grabbed, wrapped around the middle rope and for Gavin to wedge a foot to his shoulder. He pulls back on the wrist, pulling Nathan’s bicep back against the middle rope.

All of this is done under the watchful gaze of Adam Chase, who is clapping his hands before turning to notice that Harrison is staring right at him. Adam’s clapping gets slower and slower until he finally stops completely and takes a few steps further away from Harrison even though he’s standing on the compete opposite side of the ring.

As violence threatens to erupt outside of the ring, it only escalates within. After Gavin is forced to break his illegal submission, utilizing the ropes as a prop for Creed’s destruction, Gavin grabs the wrist of his adversary, the very wrist belonging to the arm he’s targeted. He utilizes it to pull Nathan to his feet and then drag him forward into the lariat. But a well timed baseball slide through Gavin’s legs prevents Creed being hit with the intended maneuver.

Nathan then leaps to his feet and wraps his arms around Gavin’s waist, going for the German suplex. He lifts only to scream out in pain, his shoulder going dead. Taylor then reaches down, slips his forearm under the interlocked hands of his opponent and pries them apart. He then twists around stretches Creed’s arm across his chest before going for the cross-arm breaker.

He drops back and prepares to separate the shoulder when Nathan reaches out with his free hand, catching the top rope and preventing being dragged down into the move. As a result the back of Gavin’s head hit’s the ring hard and he has nothing to show for his troubles, unless you count the pain of the sharpshooter.

Nathan steps through the legs of his opponent and wraps them around his own, trying to lock in the hold and roll him to his stomach.

Dollar: That sharpshooter variant he used to put Mika Kozlov in a tremendous amount of…..

Johnny’s words get quieter when he sees Mika glaring at him from the ring announcer’s chair right beside the ring. He slowly inches away from Mika until he’s almost on the other end of the table.

Dollar: Mind switching chairs with me?

Susie: But this one’s already got my butt impression in it.

Nathan almost has the sharpshooter locked in, but presumably his shoulder is holding him back. This allows Gavin the small glimmer of hope he needed, slipping his legs out of Creed’s arms, wedging his feet to Creed’s chest and ultimately shoving Creed’s back to the canvas. Nathan hit’s the ring and then rolls over in reverse to a crawling base just as Gavin gets to his feet and comes barreling in with a All-Starmaker…but the shining wizard just misses its mark, because Creed is able to duck his head down out of position of the inbound shin..

Gavin surprisingly lands on his feet right in front of Creed, who swoops in behind him, wraps arms around his waist and snaps back into the German suplex. He bridges over backwards only briefly before swinging the hips and pulling Gavin along with him as both men reach their feet with Creed about to snap back into a second German.

He lifts him into the air for to snap Gavin’s neck only to have the pain in his shoulder become too severe again. As a result Taylor is able to drop back to his feet and reverse the same way he did a few moments ago, breaking the clasped hands apart from his stomach then turn around, outstretching the arm to Creed’s side. He then pulls it forward and goes for the cross arm breaker but Nathan dives around the hip of his opposition, catches him around the leg and pulls him down into a school boy.

However, Taylor rolls right out of the school boy to his feet with Nathan getting to his knees in front of him and then dives forward, delivering the All-Starmaker. The shining wizard connects with such force that it almost severs Nathan’s skull clean from his shoulders.

Dollar: The German suplexes didn’t pan out very well for Creed, but the shining wizard paned out even worse for him.

Susie: That’s the problem when you play with pans. Especially when you try to put them on as a helmet and get burned by the steaming hot mashed potatoes still inside of them.

Dollar: Only you, Susie, only you.

The shining wizard may have just done the trick for Gavin, who is about to make the cover when his eyes cut to Harrison kneeling on the apron. This makes Taylor a bit tentative, unsure what the special guest ring enforcer is up to. He keeps a watchful eye on Aaron as he slowly crawls across the ring and is about to make a cover. Just before the lateral press he perks up to his knees and stops, spotting Harrison stand up on the apron at this point.

Dollar: What is Aaron up to?

Susie: I’d guess, but I’d probably be wrong.

Dollar: Oh I guarantee it.

Aaron does….nothing…he just leans on the ropes with his forearms and interlocks his hands…literally twiddling his thumbs as he gets a closer view of the action. Nevertheless Gavin throws a verbal warning his way and then finally goes for the pin when Nathan suddenly sits up and grabs Gavin by the arm, He begins to pull him down to the canvas and interlock hands around Taylor’s chin in order to apply a version of the crossface.

Dollar: Shocking counter into the crossface…that distraction from Harrison proved absolutely devastating…or at least it could if Gavin gets trapped in this submission.

That appears to be just the fate that Gavin is in store for as the hands begin to interlock beneath his jaw and the submission is about to be applied. But once again Nathan’s shoulder is starting to go out on him, the damage from that baseball bat shot severally hindering his performance. The momentary aggravation is all Gavin needed to counter, tucking his head and rolling through the crossface attempt back to his feet. He then rushes towards the ropes and stops the moment he comes eye to eye with Harrison.

Aaron winks at Gavin, who backs up right into the clutches of Creed, getting caught around the waist. Nathan snaps back and drops Gavin right on top of his shoulders and neck with the German suplex. He then spins his hips and pulls Gavin around with him, the crowd squealing as they realize that Taylor is about to go for a wild ride, in the form of three rolling suplexes.

But Nathan still can’t clear that second hurdle because Gavin plants his feet and refuses to be thrown back into another German. He then rushes forward, pulling Creed along behind him as Nathan desperately tries to maintain the waist lock. The two hit the ropes and Nathan drops back, trying to roll up his opposition, but his rear waist lock is broken and Taylor is left clutching the ropes, preventing being pulled down into the pin.

Nathan rolls right back to his feet when Gavin comes rushing out of the ropes, looking to catch his stooped over opponent with a variation of the All Starmaker perhaps. But this time, just as he lunges into the air, Nathan stands up and catches him, then spins Taylor around into a double A style spine buster.

Gavin is driven forcefully into the canvas and Creed is right back on his feet, stepping through the stretched legs. He wraps them around his own, rolls Gavin over to his stomach and begins to apply The London Bridge.

Dollar: He’s going for it, he’s going for that hold a second time. If he gets this applied Taylor may be the one who submits, shockingly to a man who’s shoulder he may have broken before this match.

Susie: That would be shocking, like peeing on an electric fence.

Dollar: And as shocking as the Blacklist’s take over of the IWC…which has played out in this match with the three of them assuming the roles of the ring staff. Wonder how long they’ll be assuming these roles, and what other plans they have for the show tonight?

The Blacklist are already influencing this match, and now its Lukas’ turn. He smacks his tiny hammer to the bell, causing it to chime several times just as Nathan gets the London Bridge applied. A loud celebration commences as a result of the chiming bell, Creed breaking the hold, staggering forward and lifting his one good arm into the air in celebration. That’s when he’s informed by Fitzpatrick that there was no submission.

Creed looks confused, especially as the referee rolls under the ropes and boldly steps towards Montgomery, insisting that HE’S the only one allowed to call for the bell. Unlike Nathan, Lukas’ confusion is totally insincere, pretending that he was simply testing the bell to make sure it hasn’t gone bad from lack of use. Clearly Fitzpatrick isn’t buying this and actually uses the word balderdash…yes…BALDERDASH!

Nathan turns his focus towards Harrison, who remains on the apron and storms right towards him, prompting Aaron to drop from the apron. He then backs away from the ring and points to his striped shirt, indicating that Nathan better not be a rabble-rouser…yes…he uses the word rabble-rouser.

A sneering Creed turns his focus to a more pressing danger, Gavin, who is staggering around the ring with his back turned to his opponent. Nathan rushes in behind Gavin, wedges a shoulder to his kidneys and then hoists him up into the back drop suplex.

But much to Nathan’s chagrin, his adversary flips right over and lands on his feet. Taylor grabs Creed by the shoulder, spinning him around only to be cracked across his chest with a knife edge chop. The strike sends Taylor turning in a full circle, and when goes back to facing his opposition, he’s cracked right under the jaw with a European Uppercut.

The succession of strikes leaves Gavin shaken more than a really bumpy quarter rocket-ship outside of a local grocery store. He stumbles back just as Nathan steps in and reaches down, grabbing the creases of his legs.

Taylor is just about to go down and be put in the London Bridge a second time when he reaches down, grabs Creed’s arm, leaps into the air and brings Nathan’s shoulder and bicep down into his raised knees. The cross arm breaker variation finally connects and leaves Creed feeling like he just had a baseball bat taken to his shoulder…oh wait…he did.

Dollar: And the double knees arm breaker lands…on an arm that was previously targeted by that baseball bat. He might be through Susie….or he’s going to have to become a south paw.

Susie: Hehehe, Creed can so hunt polar bears if he moves to the South Paw.

Dollar: That’s the South POLE you dimwit….you would think you’d know something about poles, sure you’ve danced around quite a bit.

Surprisingly Creed is already back to his feet, albeit slouched over his shoulder, bringing it down to his stomach. Gavin then rushes across the ring and leaps into the air, delivering a front dropkick with such devastating force to Creed’s shoulder that it sends him spiraling across the ring into the ropes and spilling through them to the outside of the ring.

He holds onto his shoulder, which has to be swelling faster than lips injected with collagen, but nevertheless stands right back up. That’s when, in a truly offensive maneuver, Harrison swoops in behind Creed, grabs the back of his head and charges him back into the ring, rolling him in.

Aaron then turns towards the nearest camera, demanding it zoom in on his face. As it does, Aaron steps in and almost buries his nose into the lens he’s gotten so close.

Aaron: THAT Orlando Cruze is how you enforce authorit….

A forearm cracks Aaron right to the back of his head, knocking him forehead first into the camera lens. The crowd goes nuts as does Nathan, but Creed’s insanity is legitimate while the fans’ lunacy is momentary. Creed absolutely flips out on the man who just put his hands on him, delivering boot after boot to Harrison’s ribs as he kneels against the barricade.

Fitzpatrick starts a ten count, and it’s the only thing that prompts Nathan to leave Harrison be. Instead of unleashing his fury on Harrison, he saves it for Taylor.

Dollar: Aaron crossed the line when he put his hands on Nathan Creed. That was taking things way too far…even if he was just trying to keep things under control.

The Best in Britain slides back into the ring just as Gavin charges in and catches him with the Real Men Use Laria….noooo….Nathan ducks the lariat and bends down, wedging his shoulder to Taylor’s ribs in the process. He then snaps back into the Northern Lights Suplex, spins his hips, pulls Gavin along with him and then delivers a second Northern Lights Suplex.

In spite of Gavin’s best efforts, he’s dragged along to his feet a third time before being snapped over into…what else…but another Northern Lights Suplex. However, given the poor condition of his shoulder, Creed is unable to maintain the bridging position that would undoubtedly put Taylor away.

Dollar: Never-Say-Die.

Susie: But I didn’t.

Dollar: No…that’s the name of Creed’s rolling Northern Lights Suplexes.

Susie: I might have said Princess Di…though I’m not sure why I would…

Dollar: That’s the name of Creed’s move!

Susie: I was playing with some DIEcast matchbox cars earlier…

Dollar: Forget it.

Nathan sits up holding his black and blue shoulder but eventually wards off the pain in favor of motioning like Babe Ruth, calling his shot, the one that will knock this match out of the park. He crawls across the ring to the turnbuckle, slipping through it and then scaling all the way to the top rope. All the self respecting IWC fans know exactly what Nathan is going for, the Tribute…a devastating flying head butt from the top rope. But the only part of Creed’s body that connects with any portion of the ring is his arm, against the ropes.

At the last second Mika springs to the ropes beside Nathan, grabs him by the wrist and leaps off to the outside of the ring, dragging Creed’s shoulder down and snapping it off the top rope. Creed roars in pain, turning away from Mika and cradling his arm like a newborn baby as he turns to the referee, who’s back is to the action, busy arguing with Lukas Montgomery over his poor time keeping abilities. He also turns right into the Real Men Use Lariats, Gavin finally connecting with it.

Dollar: Gavin DROPS Creed with the lariat…after an unlikely assist from Mika Kozlov. Has he done it…has he beaten Creed?

The back of Nathan’s head takes just as much impact as his throat by way of the lariat. He sits up, groggy, eyes glazed over and saliva seeping from the corner of his mouth. He at last comes down to the canvas after being pie faced down by Gavin, who then crawls into the lateral press.

1

2

And that’s all she wrote, just not by Angella Lansbury…who is probably the patron saint of British people. Nathan would probably be praying to her right now if it weren’t for his unconscious condition.

Dollar: Another big win for Gavin Taylor, who has been on a red hot streak since his debut. And yes I’m choosing to totally ignore the parts the Blacklist played in Nathan’s loss…why? Because I actually treasure my testicles, and don’t want to see them worn around Harrison’s throat like a necklace.

Gavin now stands over top of Creed, staring down as the Best of Britain lies flat at the feet of the Real World Jedi. But in spite of the fact that Lukas has finally mastered the art of ringing the bell, which chimes in the background, this violence isn’t over. Aaron approaches the ring holding his jaw with one hand and a baseball bat in the other. He slides it into the ring, where it stops right at the feet of Taylor.

Gavin examines the weapon and then the expression on a banged up Aaron’s face.

Harrison: Do it…Gavin….your job might just depend on it.

The baseball bat is slowly extracted from the canvas, finding its way into Gavin’s clutches. He lifts the weapon in front of his face, examining the object that may lead to Creed’s total annihilation.

Mika: You and your Sister-in-Law, they owe us one….so do it, Gavin.

Taylor turns his attention to Chase outside of the ring, who is shrugging his shoulders while mouthing the words ‘why not?’ Taylor then turns and lifts the bat high above his head, about to bring it down over the ribs of Creed when from the backstage area charges Xander Cassius to a huge reaction from the crowd.

Dollar: Xander Cassius on his way to the ring! His past issues with Taylor, coming back to haunt Gavin here in the present.

Taylor instinctively lowers the bat when he spots Xander charging at him, reacting like a stunned dear in headlights. At last Gavin springs into action, but it’s too late, because Xander almost beheads him with a spinning back fist. Taylor drops the bat and almost goes down before Cassius rushes up behind him and delivers a lariat to the back of his head, taking Taylor up and over the top rope.

Susie: And he’s knocked Yo-Gava-Gava right outta the ring.

Dollar: PLEASE, don’t let that nickname stick, it’s worse than GI Bro.

Xander has taken out Gavin, but not the man currently welding the baseball bat. He turns around just as the top of the bat is driven right into his ribs by Harrison. There’s just enough time for Cassius to double over wrapping his arms around his waist before the bat is swung down into his upper back.

Dollar: Cassius too focused on Taylor, and it just cost him HUGE…cause Aaron has the bat and he’s wearing Xander out with it.

Aaron falls to his knees but was better served to go completely down, because this allows Aaron to step in front of him and drive the top of the bat directly between Cassius’ eyes. This last shot was finally enough to put the MMA brawler on his back.

Dollar: You should have known better Cassius, you saw what these guys did to Dwayne Rodriqu….watch out Harris….I mean…BOSS!

Susie: Are there no lengths to your ass kissing?

Dollar: None at all.

Johnny’s outburst is attributed to the lunge by Nathan Creed. Somehow Nathan still has the strength to leap at Harrison and grab the creases of his knees, trying to sweep the legs. Unfortunately for Creed, his anger and intensity has taken the place of better judgment, leading him to disregard the fact that Harrison is still fresh as a spring chicken. Aaron swings the bat right down into the top of Nathan’s head, knocking him to the canvas at his feet. He then lifts the bat and slams it over Nathan’s upper back, then does so again.

Dollar: Nathan should have stayed out of it. He got too big for his britches and now he’s paying for it.

Susie: If Ducky didn’t steal your belt, you could have lent it to Nathan, and then all of this would have been avoided.

The crowd should be reacting with vile, but instead their reaction is downright orgasmic, why, because Christian Savior is sliding into the ring and is already on top of Harrison like a fly on rotted meat.

Dollar; Savior, Savior out of nowhere! And he’s all over…he’s all over Harrison!!

Dollar isn’t just singing Dixie, Christian has rushed right down the ramp, surprisingly undetected before he’s slid under the ropes and rushed right into a Lou Thez Press on Harrison, taking both he and Aaron to the canvas, He begins to deliver punch after punch after punch directly to Aaron’s face. Both men eventually work their way to their feet exchanging shots, but Aaron is definitely on the defensive, knocked towards the ropes by shot after shot from Savior’s closed fists.

Dollar: Christian is absolutely possessed…

Susie: I hope not by Captain Howdy…otherwise he’s going to make quite the stench when he pisses all over the carpet…which will just kill this lively party.

The endless flurry of fists to Aaron’s face finally take their toll, putting the Blacklist member to his knees with Christian towering over him. He pulls back on Harrison’s jaw, and launches fists so fast, so rapidly, his arm just becomes a blur as he unloads on the Blacklist member’s forehead.

Christian: You mother….son of….bastard…

Every shot is delivered with a mental flash of Rose lying bloodied on the concrete…Rose being brought to the ring on the stretcher…Rose being thrown into the ring where she’s hit with the TKO…Christian unleashing all fury…all rage…all pint up aggression on the man who put his wife in the hospital. But Christian, constantly being a man who likes to top others, looks to put Harrison in a grave.

Those dark plans are derailed when his ankles are grabbed and his legs are ripped out from under him. Christian tumbles to his elbows and knees, before being dragged to the outside of the ring by Mika and Montgomery. And he lands right on his feet, standing toe to toe with two thirds of the Blacklist, and surprisingly holding his own. His rage motivates him to overcome the two on one advantage, throwing such swift fists into the faces of both Kozlov and Lukas, that they are unable to answer back.

But this advantage couldn’t continue forever, not against foes as formidable as those he lashes out at. Eventually Lukas is able to connect with a spinning back heel kick to Christian’s ribs, putting him in perfect position for he and Mika to place arms over Savior’s chest and throw him with all their strength back first against the barricade.

Christian loses his footing as he tumbles into the barrier, causing the back of his head to smack off of the barricade.

Dollar: Savior had the Blacklist reeling there for a moment…but youch…they take him out and scramble his brains in the process.

Susie: But he was so fired up. He was like roid raging and everything.

The impact with the barrier is the least of Savior’s concerns…evident as Harrison motions to the backstage area. He then takes his bat and nails Cassius to the jaw when he sees him getting to a knee, putting him right back down on the canvas. Attention then returns to the ramp where Damion Sommers has emerged, pushing a stretcher towards the ring.

Dollar: It’s Damion Sommers, the very same man who assisted the Blacklist last week, but this time he’s bringing more than just the World Championship to the ring. He’s got a damned stretcher. What is this all about?

Susie: Maybe we’re going to see another forced tattooing.

Kozlov snaps a few shots with her I-Phone of the rattled Christian Savior who is dragged up to his feet by his wrists but then he begins to fight back against Lukas and Mika, hitting them both with wild haymakers. He has them on the fences, as he backs towards the ring, trying to get back in and get his hands back on Harrison. But its his back that is aimed towards the ring, which leaves him exposed to Aaron, who from the squared circle, extends the bat through the ropes and places it across Savior’s throat. He rears back, choking Christian, who thrashes around in a desperate attempt to free himself.

Unfortunately he’s unable to get free in time to prevent falling victim once again to the number’s game. Mika throws kicks into Christian’s ribs while Lukas nails him across the chest with knife edge chops. Mika is still snapping some photos of Savior being strangled with the bat and hitting the ‘send‘ button repeatedly. Once it becomes apparent that Savior isn’t fighting back, Damion moves in and grabs Christian by the bangs of his hair, pulling him towards the stretcher.

Savior is thrown on top of the cot, and straps begin to be employed to hold him down. Just before he can be locked in place, Christian launches into yet another tirade, delivering punches to Damion’s forehead. He then stands up on top of the stretcher and dives off right on top of Montgomery and Kozlov All three go down with Christian subjecting them both to rights and lefts, swinging every limb and appendage he can think of to exact revenge and ward off the aggressors.

Dollar: Christian continuing to fight off this onslaught after the Blacklist attempted to tie him to that stretcher in the very same fashion they did his wife last week. I’m almost sick at the thought of what they were going to do to him.

Punches, kicks, finger jabs, head butts, knees, everything and anything is used to keep the Blackliast at bay. Chrisitna gets back to his feet when Harriosn comes rushing in and swings a baseball bat right at his face.

Dollar: He ALMOST got him with the bat.

Did you notice that? The whole…’AMOST’ part of Dollar’s comment?

The bat travels right over Christian’s head, Aaron missing the mark entirely. He then turns around and receives a big roaring elbow square between the eyes. Harrison is knocked back first on top of the stretcher and now Christian grabs the straps, beginning to tie down the monstrous foe who victimized his wife so.

Johnny: Looks like Harrison’s the one about to be subjected to his own form of torture.

Susie: Their gonna make him to look in a mirror at THAT haircut?

The first strap just begins to be locked in place when Savior is forced to turn his focus back to the Blacklist, but not in time. A baseball bat swung into the upper back of Christian, knocks him down into the stretcher, swung by Kozlov. In the midst of all this chaos, Adam Chase and Gavin Taylor have wisely leaped the barricade and are now in the process of a full fledged retreat, watching the carnage escalate and unfold like the rest of the paying crowd.

Surprisingly, the testosterone fueled Christian stands up and turns right into a big boot to the jaw delivered by Montgomery. Yet another blow that at last seems to topple Christian. Harrison slides off of the stretcher and grabs the wrists of his adversary, dragging him on top of the cot and then delivering repeated forearms down over the upper back and skull. In the meanwhile Sommers is putting himself to good use, delivering stomps and punches to both Xander and Creed in the middle of the ring, keeping the two down.

Dollar: There’s only so much that Christian can do when fighting against insurmountable odds such as these. There’s a reason their called INSURMOUNTABLE!

Susie: I thought it was because they carry a rape whistle, and pepper spray.

Despair hangs as thick as Bob’s belly in the air, as Christian is moments from being forced into bondage by the Blacklist.. But unware to the Blacklist, Silencer is now darting through the crowd, shoving his way right past Gavin, who looks offended that the painted combatant put his hands on him. Silencer continues on his way through the crowd without even looking back at the disgruntled face of Gavin.

Dollar: It’s Silencer….now it’s Silencer….he’s looking for revenge here tonight too. The Blacklist helped to set him up as well on the last Riot!

The Painted Provoker slides into the ring just as Damion takes notices. Sommers rushes in to decapitate him via the clothesline only to have Silencer do as Christian did moments earlier, ducking at the last second. Damion then spins around right into a super kick that almost fractures his jaw. Silencer takes down Sommers and then shows no hesitation as he darts across the ring and flips over the top rope into a big plancha, collapsing right into, Mika, Harrison and Lukas, knocking the entire Blacklist to the group amongst a HUGE pop from the crowd.

Dollar: And now the shit stirring Cagero going high risk, throwing himself into the Blacklist….this is downright crazy with a capital ‘C!’

Susie: I always thought crazy was spelled with a ‘k.’ Then again I always thought that Brittany Lohan was a woman.

The war wages on to much ballyhoo from the fans, who watch as if their eyelids were stapled open, unable to so much as blink. Silencer rises to his feet at almost the same time as Lukas, beginning to drive fist after fist directly into his nose, backing him up several paces. He then spins Montgomery around and takes him by the back of the head, charging him at the steps before bashing his face off of the steel.

Lukas stands up, swinging his arms as he tries to remain upright, only to be swung around and drilled under the jaw with a big uppercut from Silencer, who has the Blacklist reeling. He then sets his sights on the kneeling Harrison, rushing in before he can even think of getting up…nooo….Aaron pulls the bat off the mats and swings it into the ribs of the inbound Silencer, doubling him over. Harrison then takes the bat long-ways and drives it into the cheek of Silencer, knocking him down to the mats.

Dollar: Is there anybody who can stop the Blacklist? ANYBODY!?!

Susie: Maybe the tag team of Optimus Prime and Jesus.

After being laid to waste by Harrison, Silencer is thrown into the ring and the Blacklist follows, setting their sights on the former World Heavyweight Champion. They instantly put boots to Cagero’s body with Mika dropping down to pin his wrists to the canvas so that he can’t fight back. Montgomery wants to join in but Nathan is back to his knees and is trying to intervene. Lukas looks to take advantage of him only to be caught around the waist by the kneeling Creed, who delivers punches to both of the attacker’s sides. Lukas drills him to the forehead, trying to take the fight out of him.

Meanwhile Aaron looks to stop Xander from getting back up, Cassius already dragging his body to his feet before he gets right hands to the temple and jaw.

Dollar: This is why the Blacklist is in control tonight, nobody can rise up and fight….

Susie: You were saying?

The crowd is instantly rejuvenated by the sight of Silence and Mr. Hush slipping into the ring. The Black Crusade looks to avenge their benefactor, and if they happen to come to the aid of the rest of the roster, it’s just a side effect of their pursuit for revenge. Before they can do absolutely anything, the two are instantly pounced upon by Kozlov and Harrison, boots being taken to the back of their heads as they tried to slide into the ring.

Dollar: Nope, not even the Black Crusade enough to turn back the onslaught of the Blacklist! Our entire roster being beaten down by these three….just look at all the bodies laid out by our new bosses.

Silence tries to get up when Montgomery delivers a thrust kick to the side of her skull, knocking her to her back. Mr. Hush is also trying to fight his way up, peppering Kozlov to the ribs with right hands. Unfortunately for the enigmatic and unorthodox Mr. Hush, he failed to notice Harrison snatching up the baseball bat yet again and employing to bash the Black Crusade member over his back. Mr. Hush is brought down to his knees and Kozlov begins to deliver rights to his forehead.

Dollar: This is unreal…

All hope seems lost before Christian slides into the ring with a steel chair in hand. Harrison rushes in and then spots the chair being raised into the air, sending him twisting into the ropes and spilling through them to the outside before Christian has a chance to exact revenge. Kozlov and Montgomery spot the chair wielding psychopath rushing at them and swinging wildly, which prompts the two to wisely take a powder, leaping from the ring.

Dollar: Christian finally warding off these three with that steel chair, but the point has already been made. The Blacklist are an unstoppable force and THEY are in control of this show tonight.

Susie: They should let me do the booking, I’d make an awesome card. We would so see a Bob versus Mr. Hush best of seventy seven series of matches.

Dollar: In that case I think I actually would prefer to have the Blacklist at the helm.

The chair is thrown hard to the canvas, Christian absolutely losing it as he wants to go after the Blacklist only to have Silencer step in his way, putting a palm to his sternum, holding him back. It’s not easy considering the homicidal impulses oozing from every orifice of the Rising Phoenix when he sees the smile on Montgomery’s face. Lukas stepping to the side of Kozlov and Harrison, who wraps an arm around Montgomery’s neck, pulling him into the trio. The three appear legitimately proud of themselves for laying out all those who opposed their power this evening, most of which regaining consciousness at this point

Creed has just gotten to his feet and is now aiding Xander to an upright base, both men staring down the Blacklist in the process. No one seems to notice Sommers still in the ring though, utilizing the ropes to get up and grabbing hold of the baseball bat in the process.

The overwhelmed Christian slaps Silencer’s hands away from his chest, bringing the two nose to nose, eye to eye, ready to wage war once again, as they’ve done so many times throughout the duration of their career.

Dollar: How can any of these people expect to bring down the Blacklist when they can’t even stand as a united front? It looks like Silencer and Christian are about to kill each other.

It appears that the Rising Phoenix and the Supreme Shit Stirrer are about to do one last tango before Christian shoves Silencer aside and leaps into the air, catching an inbound Damion around the neck and dropping him with a diamond cutter before he could utilize the baseball bat.

Sommers skull hits the ring with such force that it sends his body popping up unto his knees. That’s when Silencer steps in and grabs him around the neck, pulling him up fully to his feet then leaping into the air and delivering the Break the Silence.

Dollar: The Blacklist have left Damion Sommers to the wolves. How’s that for rewarding your assistance, Damion?

The whiplash of the Break the Silence has Damion in dire straights but it’s not over with yet as Nathan steps in and grabs the crazed combatant around his neck. He bridges Sommers up to his feet in a reverse DDT position and then delivers the Underdog, hitting his version of the spinning headlock elbow drop. The meeting of cranium to canvas, leaves Sommers very shaken up but nevertheless trying to stand up. The absent minded Sommers stands up just as Cassius steps in, hooks both of his arms and heaves him up into the double underhook piledriver.

Dollar: Stay down Sommers…Jesus….just quit getting up.

Susie: Their taking their turns tearing that ass up.

The Blacklist do nothing to interfere on behalf of the man who has aided them since the faithful day he was mistaken for Silencer and thrown in a trunk. They merely watch from the stage as Damion writhes and convulses on the canvas before, totally void of consciousness, rises to his feet when Mr. Hush moves in behind him and leaps into the air, delivering the Buttcracker Suite. Damion bounces posterior first off the raised knees and gets to his feet when Silence swoops in, takes him around the neck, hoists him up into the air in a surprising display of strength, and ultimately drops him right on top of his head via the Unholy Warcry.

Dollar: That did it…that had to have killed Sommers….he’s done….thank God that stretcher is still at ringside.?

Indeed, Damion is done, there is no way he can instinctively get back to his feet at this point, laying as limp as a noodle in the ring beneath the many combatants who just waylaid him. Xander, Creed, Silence, Mr. Hush, Christian and Silencer all stand in the ring at this point exchanging tentative glances between one another’s eyes.

Dollar: Alright, you’ve taken out Sommers, now turn your frustrations on one another.

Susie: I don’t think that’s what is about to happen, Johnny.

She speculated correctly, because all sets of eyes in the ring have transferred from one another, to the faces of Montgomery, Harrison and Kozlov. The trio look right back, unshaken and unconcerned as they remain on the stage, arms crossed and heads titled in an expression of pity. They aren’t even effected at the sight of Silencer rolling out of the ring, grabbing a microphone and then scaling one of the turnbuckles from the outside. He sits down on the very top rope so he can stare over the heads of all the combatants within the ring.

Silencer: Yo Black-twats….seems the numbers have turned in our favor a little….

Nathan and Xander nod, but Christian just seethes, and Mr. Hush and Silence, well, they do a big fat nothing but stare through the eye holes of one another’s masks.

Silencer: And with superior numbers, comes all the power. So guess what butt-munchers? This group of Motherfuckers in the ring….WE’RE TAKING OVER!

The Blacklist scoff at the notion…but they’d be the only ones scoffing….cause everyone else is in full fledged celebration mode. The athletes in the ring, the fans in the crowd, they’re all going upper-case mad at the moment, in response to Silence’s declaration that the disenfranchised, victimized competitors standing tall in the ring will be running the show.

Dollar: So wait…wait…we just went from one group of lunatics running tonight’s show to another group of lunatics running tonight’s show? Good lord, who do I send this fruit basket to?

Susie: Can’t wait to see what booking decisions the Magnificent Six here are going to make.

Dollar: Magnificent Six? More like the Magnificent Motherfuckers…which is what I suppose Silencer would dub these sextuplets.

The masses are going nuttier than a jar of Jiff at the official announcement by Silencer, and the triumphant rise of these six forces to stand opposed to the power hungry ambitions of the Blacklist.

A sleek black limo comes cruising to a stop in the parking lot.

Dollar: And NOW what’s going on?

Susie: Can nobody get to the show on time around here?

It doesn’t take long for the backdoor to swing open and for the mystery to end. One question is answered…who the passenger is….but the arrival of SCW’s owner and operating, Mr. D….elicits even more inquiries.

Dollar: It’s…it’s….Mr. D…it’s Olek…head of the Board of Directors and President of Supreme Championship Wrestling!

Susie: Or maybe it’s someone wearing a really good Mr. D Halloween costume.

Dollar: I doubt it, this is Mr. D…blood and flesh…and he’s out of his comfort zone here in the Independent Wrestling Cartel. I was wondering when the Board would truly make their presence known.

The limo door slams shut and Mr. D begins to enter the building in the midst of overlooking some documents in his hands. There’s no hesitation, no concern…save for ensuring that he‘s ready everything on the document properly. The fact that he’s stepping straight into the trenches of a battlefield doesn’t even effect him.

Dollar: Mr. D presumably present to ensure that the law of the Board of Directors is enforced.

Susie: That, or he’s just here to look straight up pimpin’. He’s pretty fly for a white guy.

Mr. D steps right past security, who make no moves whatsoever to stop him…they even push the doors open for him. Their ass kissing gestures warrants a smirk from Mr. D, who then enters the building, ready to make a very serious…direction changing statement.

The footage is grainy, and the camera is shaking, you know, to enhance that whole dramatic feel. And for good reason, cause the viewers are presently in the process of reliving the truly heinous scene that unfolded last week…scenes relating to yet another World Title robbery…But this time it’s not Orlando Cruze absconding with the World Championship, it’s the love of his life, Taylor Chase, who emerges with the gold in hand. We see Rose Savior, former World Champion, being dragged to the ring on a stretcher by the Blacklist.

Oh yeah, women in bondage…HAWT.

Rose is then seen being thrown into the ring and unlatched from her backboard by special referee, Frankie Paradise.

Totally could of copped a feel there, but I’m like an absolute gentleman.

Once free from the straps, the Champion at that time, wraps her hands around Frankie’s throat, forcing him down to his back while crawling on top and strangling the life out of him.

Yeah, some sluts are just into that kinky asphyxiation shit…but I don’t look good wearing an ascot to cover my bruises, so I try to stay out of that S&M stuff.

At last, the woman who was watching this whole scene unfold, lashes out, Taylor Chase diving into a shot to Rose’s already bloodied temple with her protective steel knee brace. The crack to the skull renders Savior unconscious, putting her to the canvas where she’s pinned by Tay-Tay.

Alright…some girl on girl action…NIIICE.

Taylor Chase is then seen hugging her father and planting a big wet one on Frankie, all part of her celebration with the World Heavyweight Championship.

So lucky, Tay-Tay, so lucky to French the Frankster…

The final image seen is one of Taylor Chase standing on the stage, holding the World Title aloft.

The video cuts back to live action now, focusing on an equally as repugnant sight, Frankie Paradise in the flesh. He sits on a studio chair under the expensive flat-screen mounted to the wall. A briefcase stolen from Axl Evermore last week is gripped in one hand, while a big thing of popcorn is hugged under the opposite arm. He puts down the briefcase and removes his sunglasses, sitting them on top of the case in the process.

Frankie: That’s right bitches, Frankie Paradise pulled it off. He got Tay-Tay the title just like he said he would…so suck it…suck it long…suck it hard.

The gloating just won’t stop….even though everyone…save for Paradise…really…really wishes it would.

Frankie: Didn’t think I had it in me, huh? And you probably doubted the mad-skills of Tay-Tay too. But in one night, we both proved you wrong.….

He tosses some popcorn in his mouth…obnoxiously chewing it.

Frankie: Tonight, you‘ll see your NEW Champ, THE Tay-Tay herself…but before you get a good look at the sexiest thing to ever hold the gold…you‘re all going to sit there and watch as I rub myself all over your faces…I‘m going to take you bitches on a tour…and show the world how this….

A point to the flat-screen draws attention of the celebrating Taylor Chase, World Title aloft above her head.

Frankie: Get yourselves pumped, because Frankie‘s gonna keep you up aaalllll niiiight looooong.

He shovels a handful of popcorn into his mouth…chewing even more obnoxiously than before…then reaches down to pick up his trademark shades, only to find that they’ve been misplaced, no longer sitting on the briefcase beside him.

MOMENTS AGO

Clips highlight a scene only describable as sheer, unbridled…you guessed it…CHAOS…when the war between the Blacklist and a sizeable chunk of the roster just broke out.

Dollar: Must everything Frankie says be uttered with such an oversexed tone? He‘s turning into Val Venis with all his double entendres.

Susie: Heeeelllooo laaaaadddieees…te-he-he….now we all got to get aboard the HOOOOO TRAIN!

Dollar: And thank God, a recap not featuring a scene of an exploding ninja, or a terrible, terrible sex face.

Susie: I miss Mr. Hush in the production truck already.

Dollar: Well, as terrifying a thought as it may be…we might still get Mr. Hush in the production truck, if the self described ‘Motherfuckers’ take over this evening.

That chaos mentioned moments ago…it’s relieved…right now. There are shots of Creed being stricken down with a baseball bat in spite of his attempts to stand up against the Blacklist. Then there are shots, both from the bat and in the form of visual clips featuring said bat…of Xander Cassius, Christian Savior, Silencer, and the Black Crusade falling victim to the assault at the hands of Montgomery, Mika and Aaron. At last a chair swinging Savior sends the Blacklist from the ring.

Dollar: The Blacklist assaulted literally everyone who came out here to try and oppose them before seemingly deciding to vacate the ring on their own. But in the process they may have turned over the power to those six individuals who they maliciously assaulted.

Susie: That’s what happens when you attack like really bad choreographed ninjas, jumping in one at a time, instead of everyone leaping in at once.

Dollar: You actually made a good point. Each of these people attacked as INDIVIDUALS, not as a solid unit. That’s why the Blacklist was able to get the advantage over them, considering they’re an actual team. Anyway, the battle lines are drawn, and we have all out war to fill the power gap left by Orlando’s forced resignation, and Desmond Drake’s removal as liaison for the board of directors. Who is taking over tonight?

Back to the ring we return, but one person who didn’t leave it….who was UNABLE to leave it….is Damion Sommers, kneeling against one of the turnbuckles, head slouched to his side. Referee Fitzpatrick is also still present after the previous chaos, checking on the condition of the barely conscious Sommers. A couple of EMTS have joined the pair, observing Sommers very closely.

Dollar: One of the victims of that huge brawl moments ago, is Damion Sommers. Look at the goof. He’s STILL in the ring and he’s STILL refusing to leave it, even after getting beat down by six of IWC’s talents. Six exceptional talents by the way…six of the greatest talents of all times.

Susie: You really waste no time do you?

Dollar: The earlier I get the ball rolling on kissing ass, the better…..

The EMTS try to take Damion out of the ring only to have him lethargically swat at their hands, barely even possessing the strength to knock them away. They continue to implore him to leave the ring, citing that he’s not in any shape to compete here tonight. Damion ignores them, or is barely even cognizant of the fact that their present, lifting his hand to gesture to the backstage area, actually summoning his opponent.

Dollar: Damion legitimately is crazier than a bag of Margot Kidders. He’s actually about to compete against Claude Judas Rose, a man who quite enjoys violence, after taking a string of high impact finishers from half of the IWC roster.

Susie: Don’t you consider this courageous?

Dollar: No, I consider it unbridled idiocy.

Damion continues to ward off anyone who dares try to help him from the ring, fully intent on competing against the blood thirty Rose.

Pachelbel’s ‘Canon In D Major’ hits the PA System. A spotlight follows a large full length portrait of Claude Judas Rose as it’s lowered down from the arena rafters. The portrait hits the top of the stage with a thud. The portrait is then raised back up, but now Claude Judas Rose is stood behind it, doing the same arrogant pose as he is in the painting.

Dollar: “Rose actually surprised everybody last week by beating up the TPKid last week. We didn’t know too much about the TPKid but Rose had been hit or miss since day one. He handled business quite well last week but we don’t even know if he’ll even have a match after Sommer’s caught a pretty bad beat down last week.”

Susie: “But then he got into it with Kirsta and the TPKid afterwards and didn’t fair to well. All that CANNOT be sitting well with Claude, who looks to take out his frustrations on an injured, prone Sommers…right nowz!”

The referee begs Sommers not to compete but is shoved aside, Damion insistent upon going at it this evening, even after the multiple finishing moves he suffered mere moments ago.

Susie: “Sommers is one tough cookie. I don’t think anything can stop him from competing.”

As soon as the last word comes out of Susie’s mouth before Sommers can even get to his feet after dropping to his knees in the ring Rose is already on the attack stomping at Sommer’s viciously as the bell rings and the crowd pours down heavy boo’s. Rose pulls Sommers to his feet and pushes him into the corner. He hits him with a vicious European uppercut before raking him in the eyes. The ref gets in the way and warns Rose of the dirty tactics as the crowd continues to show their disgust of Rose with nonstop boo’s.

Dollar: “You see this is the relentless side of Rose we didn’t see until last week. Now he’s finally showing the world true art at it’s finest!”

Susie: “He couldn’t even wait for the bell to ring! Sommer’s can barely even stand and Rose needs to result to these cheap tactics.”

Dollar: “Sommer’s could have called off the match, but he’s too tough for his own good. It’s his own fault for not coming out here 100%”.

Sommer’s stumbles out of the corner squinting his eyes from the eye rake and throws a right hand that completely misses Rose who just laughs at him before cracking his with a right hand of his own that sends Sommers into the ropes. Rose grabs Sommer’s by the air before throwing him down with a vicious hair toss. The crowd continues to boo as Rose then applies a reverse chin lock that has Sommer’s shouting in pain. Sommer’s reaches blindly for the ropes but doesn’t come anywhere close still visably dazed from the attack earlier. Rose continues to apply relentless pressure but then releases the hold before slamming his head down to the mat. Rose starts to hammer Sommer’s with some vicious stomps before delivering a elbow drop on the face of Sommer’s. Rose quickly covers.

1!

Rose then hooks his feet on the ropes as leverage for the pin.

2!

The ref notices the feet on the ropes before he can count Sommer’s out and stands to his feet shouting at Rose while pointing to his feet. Rose stands back up getting into the ref’s face as the ref yells at him that’s he’s not going to tolerate any more of Rose’s cheap tactics.

Susie: “Finally the ref is telling Claude how it is!”

Dollar: “The ref needs to stomp interfering with the match. The best matches are matches where you rarely even notice the ref is there. He needs to keep his nose out of it and be grateful to be the man to count the pin! there are a ton of young and aspiring ref’s out there that would kill for his job!
“

Rose backs away from the ref as he notices Sommer’s trying to roll over to get back to his feet. Rose delievers a vicious soccer kick to the stomach that see’s Sommer’s screaming in pain. Rose then drops a fist right into Sommer’s face as the crowd continues to boo rapidly. Claude then pulls Sommer’s to his feet before twisting him around and dropping him with a vicious reverse DDT. He goes for the quick cover again.

1!

2!

Sommer’s is just able to get his shoulder up out of pure instinct.

Susie: “Sommer’s is just getting bullied out here. He really should think about throwing in the towel before Rose can do anymore damage to shorten his career.”

Dollar: “He’s not even a challenge for Rose at this point.”

Rose stands up before stomping Sommer’s a few more times clearly irritated he hasn’t finished the match yet. Rose then pulls Sommer’s by his hair back to his feet before throwing him in the corner. Rose then leaps to the second rope and puts Sommer’s head between his knees. He grabs his hair and pushes off the ropes for the Bloody Rose but Sommers is able to push him off before being driven into the ground on his face. Rose stumbles forward before turning back to Sommers looking shocked Sommers was able to escape. His face quickly turns to anger as he sprints towards Sommer’s with a clothesline but Sommer’s is able to stick his elbow up just in time for Rose to eat it. Rose falls on his ass and stumbles back to his feet looking even more pissed. Sommer’s stumbles out to the center of the ring and both men start trading right hands back and forth as the crowd cheers as Sommer’s finally starts showing some life. Rose ducks under a right hand and runs off the ropes looking for another clothesline but Sommer’s catches him using his momentum to throw him over with a belly to belly clothesline! The crowd cheer’s as Sommer’s stands to his knees catching his breathe trying to muster up some energy to capitalize.

Susie: “And finally Sommer’s shows some life counter that Roseline!”

Dollar: “Let’s see how much energy he even has left though. That was a big slam but that could have been everything he has left!”

Susie: “The fans are going nuts though. Maybe he can thrive on their energy and finally teach this prick a lesson!”

Rose makes it too his feet first holding his back in pain. Rose comes at Sommer’s trying not to let him gain any momentum but Sommer’s quickly stands back to his feet in time to drill Rose with a big throat thrust punch that sends Rose stumbling to the canvas but also sends Sommer’s back into the ropes. The crowd cheers as Rose makes it back to a knee looking on in shock that Sommer’s is still able to mount more offense.

Dollar: “Look he can barely use any offense without nearly knocking himself over.”

Susie: “He’s fighting with all he’s got left though! He’s really showing the world what kind of heart he has even when he’s been beat down and left for dead! You just can’t stop this guy!”

Sommers leaps at Rose with a running knee to the head but it’s so weak from his lack of energy Rose is able to duck and roll out of dodge. Sommers falls into the ropes as Rose jumps back up and runs at Sommers before taking him over the top rope with a clothesline! Sommer’s lands hard on the outside as the crowd oh’s.

Dollar: “That’s one way of taking away his momentum. Take him out of the whole ring!”

Susie: “Quick thinking by Rose has put him back in control at least for the moment!”

Rose looks over the top rope and sees Sommers laying there in pain. He then hops on the top rope with a evil grin on his face looking like he’s about to take Sommers out for good. The crowd boo’s and he begins to shout back at the audience telling them “Silence!” The boo’s don’t stop but Rose then focus’s back on Sommer’s before standing up on the top ropes and leaping to the outside with a Rose Dive head butt! He comes inches from landing on Sommers but Sommers is able to just barely roll out of the way causing Rose to nose dive face first into the mat! The crowd roars as Rose lies on his face seemingly unconscious. Chants of “Toast that French” cloud the arena as Sommers uses the ring barricade to slowly pull himself back to his feet. He looks down at Rose with a sadistic pissed off look before slowly walking over and stomping the motionless Rose on the back of the head. Rose doesn’t react as he’s still out from the botched Rose Dive. Sommer’s then pulls Rose to his feet but almost falls over but the ring apron catches them as he doesn’t seem to have enough energy to keep himself and Rose’s dead weight off the ground. Sommers uses to the ring apron as leverage to walk Rose over to the steel steps before bouncing his face off the top step. The crowd roars as Sommer’s repeats the face smash twice more. Blood starts to poor out of Rose’s nose as Sommer’s stares into his motionless face barking at him “You think you can finish me? I finish you!” Sommer’s then rolls him back into the ring before rolling back in himself.

Susie: “That is definitely a Youtube moment! Claude Rose diving face first off the top rope onto his face! Ha! Sommer’s is looking intense right now and is ready to finish him off!”

Dollar: “That even made my face hurt just watching that. Maybe it’s a sign that French people shouldn’t fly through the air. Maybe they should just stick to fine wine and using the Eiffel Tower when it comes to elevation.”

Susie: “I can toast to that as this crowd seems to want Sommer’s to toast Rose!”

Dollar: “Damn it now I’m hungry for some fine wine and French toast!”

Sommers uses the ropes to pull himself back to his feet as Rose finally starts to show signs of consciousness by planting his hands on the mat trying to push his face of the canvas. Sommers helps him out though by pulling him back up his feet before lifting him up on his shoulders for a firemen’s carry. Sommer’s stumbles though barely having enough energy again to lift Rose into the air. Rose starts to rake his eyes to get off his shoulders but Sommers shifts Rose to one shoulder before running and trying to hit a power slam but falls over himself as Rose slides off his shoulders. Sommers slowly stands back to his feet and turns around only to eat a clothesline by Rose. Rose pulls him back to his feet before pointing out into the crowd asking the ref “What is that?” to distract him while he drops down and delivers a vicious low blow to Sommer’s. The crowd pours down some more heavy boo’s but Rose is able to then roll him into a small package pin as the ref finally turns his attention back to the match seemingly confused. But he can’t think as he quickly has to make the count.

1!

2!

KICKOUT! The crowd cheers as Soomer’s is just able to kick out of the pin. Rose sits up in disbelief.

Susie: “For a Frenchman this guy really has no class! Soomer’s is already a standing corpse yet he still needs to try and cheat his way to a win.”

Dollar: “I don’t think he really cares what you think Susie…..Just an observation.”

Rose stands back to his feet before jumping up to the top rope looking to finally end this thing for good.

Dollar: “Oh no he’s back on the top rope….Get down before you kill yourself!”

Susie: “Stay on there so you actually do!”

Sommers slowly makes his way back to his feet and turns into a flying Roseline from Claude Rose! The crowd boo’s some more as Rose goes for the pin again.

1!

2!

KICKOUT! Sommer’s is just able to kick out again just in time to save himself from a loss. Rose looks up in complete shock not knowing what he has to do to finally finish this match. Rose then quickly grabs him off the mat and scoops him up and tries to throw him hard on his head for a throwing piledriver a.k.a the Art Attack but Sommer’s is able to roll off his back. Rose turns only to eat a European Uppercut from Sommers. Rose stumbles back but not before Sommer’s can hit him with another throat thrust punch that sends Rose flying back into the ropes. Sommers then goes to irish whip Rose across the ring but doesn’t let go and pulls him back in before hitting another belly to belly suplex! The both lie on the ground as the crowd roars. Not a first sight but if you look closely Sommer’s stays on the ground so he can pull something out of his pocket. He then slowly stands back to his feet but keeps his back turned from the referee. Rose slowly makes it back to his feet while holding his back only to get drilled by a huge punch by Damion Sommer’s that knocks Rose out cold! The crowd roars as the ref looks down to check on Rose as Damion quickly throw what seems to be brass knuckles out of the ring. He then falls on Rose in front of the ref for the cover!

1!

2!

3!

DING! DING! DING!

Susie: “Sommers has done it! Even a vicious beating couldn’t stop him from coming out here and taking care of business!”

Dollar: “I can’t believe what I just saw. Damion Sommers is the freaking terminator!”

Wisely Damion rolls out of the ring, Sommers falling flat on his face in the process, absolutely exhausted. The man he put on his ass, sits up in the ring, Claude looking like he just witnessed a hundred kittens being strangled. He dabs his swollen jaw with his palm before his hand closes into a fist. The official goes against his better judgment, stepping in to check on Claude, who roars spitefully at the referee. He’s actually barking at Fitzpatrick as he nips at the heels of the fleeing official. Thinking on instinct, Fitzpatrick dives through the ropes, but the cables don’t stop Claude, he leaps right through them and continues after the fleet footed Fitzpatrick.

Susie: Run Fitzpatrick run! I think those step classes at the gym have really helped him.

Dollar: They had better, because if Claude gets his hands on Fitz…..wait….no…stay away from us.

Claude has given up chasing the referee and is now turning his focus to the announce table, which he slaps with both palms.

Dollar: Take the dumb blonde and spare me.

Susie: I can almost smell Claude’s breath, it reeks of cheap whine and feta cheese.

Claude menacingly glares at the commentators before at last offering some words that are picked up by Dollar’s head-set.

Claude: Haven’t I made it clear yet?

Before Dollar can even shrug, he’s grabbed the lapel of his jacket and almost dragged over the table. He gets incredibly close to Judas’ intense, twisted face.

Claude: I don’t want Damion Sommers…I don’t want TPKid….I don’t want any of them…..all I want….is to be FIRED! You hear that IWC!?!

The mic piece of Dollar’s headset is raised to Claude’s lips.

Claude: FIRE ME!!

Dollar is released and allowed to drop back to his seat while Damion approaches the ring announcer. Wilde, who has already been through enough tonight, is out of her chair and standing behind the time keeper, watching as her chair is grabbed and thrown into the turnbuckle post.

Dollar: Claude has lost his shit completely….and yeah, that’s totally feta cheese.

Susie: If he wants to get fired he can always accuse Orlando Cruze…or whomever is running the show, of sexual harassment…seems to work every time.

Dollar: Well Claude is looking to get fired, but someone who has already lost his position is Orlando Cruze…moments ago we saw Mr. D arrive in the Manhattan Center, apparently to see to it that the will of the Board of Directors is enforced when it comes to Orlando’s resignation as President of the IWC< and not backing down from Orlando's challenge, either.

A receptionist is busy fielding an influx of phone calls.

She looks agitated by the switchboard in front of her, a multitude of lights lit up on the telephone, keeping several on hold and others in need of a transfer.

Its become par for the course though, considering her place of employment happens to be the hub of operations for the Board of Directors in charge of both Supreme Championship Wrestling and the Independent Wrestling Cartel.

Receptionist: SCW and IWC Worldwide, this is Beatrice…home can I help you?

The customary introduction she’s repeated about a hundred times in the past five minutes.

Receptionist: No Sir, you cannot speak with Taylor Chase…no sir…I cannot give you here number….how am I supposed to know her measurements?

The phone is switched over to another caller, wisely ignoring the previous pervert.

She carries on with her normal diatribe, voice echoing throughout the huge, and very shiny lobby, over lights reflecting off the marble floors and walls behind her. The wide open spaces also enhance the cough the Receptionist overhears. She looks up from the phone, ready to deliver her rehearsed and redundantly rehashed lines only to find no one standing on the opposite end of the desk.

Therefore she goes back to fielding the phone-calls before being interrupted by an even LOUDER cough. The same response is elicited, looking up from switchboard to the vacant space in front of her. Another shrug from the Receptionist, who is about to continue with her mindless job when….

Can I get a little help, please?

At long last she peaks over the edge of the desk and spots Desmond Drake standing there, wearing his brown leather jacket, black beanie, and a mask of agitation. His toes tap the floor beneath his feet with arms crossed, frustrated by the lack of acknowledgment.

Receptionist: Oh…ummm….hello there.

Desmond: No time for pleasantries, Beatrice, I’m here to see the Board of Directors.

Receptionist: Uh-huh. But Mr. Drake…you know all you have to do is use her pin number to get back to the offices…

Desmond: That’s just it…my pin number doesn’t work anymore.

Receptionist: Oh…well…let me try to get the Board on the phone for you.

She dials a number and then presses her headphones tighter to her ears to ensure she hears exactly what the Board has to say.

Beatrice: Hello, I’m standing here with Des….oh….you already knew that?

The glance towards the security camera mounted to the wall above her desk clues Desmond into the fact that they’re being watched.

Beatrice: Okay…

She intentionally turns in her swivel chair away from Desmond, cupping her hand around the side of her mouth so he can’t see what she’s seeing. After being forced to stand and wait for an eternity, Beatrice finally turns to address Drake.

Beatrice: I’m afraid that the Board is right in the middle of….

Desmond: Yeah, I figured as much…HEY!

Drake stops directing his statements to Beatrice and instead focuses on the ever so observant camera.

Desmond: You will talk to me tonight….Understand? I’m not leaving here until you see me.

For the first time Desmond shows absolute, unflinching determination.

Drake: Did you not hear me? I said I’m not going anywhere until you’ve seen me! You all know how stubborn I can be.

The phone begins to ring once again and the Receptionist goes back to work, answering the urgent call.

Receptionist: SCW and IWC Wor….Okay….Mr. Drake…they’ll see you now.

Drake: I thought so.

Greyson: This is never gonna dry.

A mortified Greyson glances down at the huge puddle on his lap, flapping his one free hand in its direction, hoping the air will dry it. Sparkles observes both his associate’s distress and Silencer in the background, fidgeting with the door that once led to Orlando’s office. Now a new name is being spray painted across its surface, a particularly offensive one….what else would you expect from Cagero? The magic word for Silencer this evening?

‘MOTHERFUCKERS’

Sparkles: Why don’t you just blow on it?

The suggestion makes Greyson even more bent out of shape…literally…considering he’s trying to stoop down to the point where he can literally blow on his lap…something many a men would die to be able to do.

Lovejoy: I can’t…

Sparkles: Then let someone else blow on it.

A longing stare is beamed in the direction of his obnoxious puppet

Sparkles: Oh please… Did you really think it be that easy to get my face in your crotch?

Lovejoy: Well what the hell am I supposed to do?

Sparkles: I can’t worry about that right now, look at what that hoe Christian did to my ankle look…

The results of that shove from moments ago is eluded to, as attention draws to the band-aid wrapped around Sparkles’ ankle.

Sparkles: I might walk funny for the rest of my life…

Lovejoy: He barely even touched you.

Sparkles: Well it hurts…wait…I just saw tits…TITS…Greyson. And I think they were attached to a body.

Lovejoy: Would you stop lusting after every piece of tail you see and help me here?

Sparkles: She walked right into that dressing room back there, move in so I can scope her out.

A small telescope is placed in Sparkle’s hands, velcroed to his palms.

Lovejoy: Wait…that actually sounds like it could be some breaking news, considering that you know, Orlando just left his office with all his stuff and everything.

Sparkles: Did he?

Lovejoy: We just saw it happen like ten minutes ago.

Sparkles: Sorry…I saw tits, Greyson, tits…you know what they do to me.

Lovejoy: Fair enough, let’s find out what’s going on.

The two move towards the office, but find Silencer forming a physical barricade as he continues spray painting the naughty word on the door.

Silencer: Whoa…whoa…..do the two of you have an appointment? We don’t just take walk ins around here…even if you are wearing a giant pink bunny suit.

Lovejoy: I’m actually Ralphie…from a Christmas stor…

Silencer: Makes sense, considering talking to you is making me want to Ralph right now. What do you want? The Motherfuckers are very busy…getting busy….we’ve got a whole fuck-load of work to do…you know….with booking the show….and making sure that Taylor Chase’s World Title celebration this evening goes F-A-Bulous!

Lovejoy: That’s what we were wondering about….

Sparkles: Not me, I saw boobs, they draw me in like a bug light.

Lovejoy:…I’m guessing this is quite newsworthy, Silencer, you taking over Orlando’s office.

Silencer: Is it?

Sparkles: Of course it is, Simon. So you‘re like in charge now, right?

Silencer: Pretty much.

Sparkles: Awesome…because I have a bunch of brilliant ideas I’ve been kicking around in my fuzzy head that I know YOU would appreciate!

Silencer: I’ve actually got a fuck ton of work to do at the moment. But if you schedule an appointment….

Sparkles: First, I think you can agree there’s not nearly enough T&A around here, am I right…can I get a double huh-huh?

He waits…and waits…and waits but Silencer doesn’t give the response he was anticipating, just a blank stare.

Silencer: Oh. Um…yeah…huh-huh….huh-huh…and all that jazz.

Sparkles: So we should totally have go-go chicks dancing in cages on the stage.

Silencer: I think stripers might be pushing the envelope just a tad.

Sparkles: They’d have pasties over their nipples.

Silencer: Oh…well…problem solved.

Sparkles: Plus we could have Taylor Chase remove an article of clothing every time a match ends in a roll up or disqualification. We’d be guaranteed a nude Tay-Tay by the end of every single show.

Silencer: Hey, I like it, would certainly dissuade the shit-faces on this roster from ever wanting to get Dqed again.

Sparkles: And…AND…we don’t see nearly enough wrestlers competing in bikinis.

Silencer: Hmmm, good point, I’ll get Bob right on that.

Sparkles: Oh, and we can always have Tiami Tyler and Kathryn Pearson compete in a loser sucks my toes match…

Silencer: What would the winner get?

Sparkles: That’s why I have two feet, Simon.

Silencer: I see, let me think…..

Orlando: Simon.

The name isn’t spoken with the same venom, and spite it normally would be when exiting the mouth of the Icon. Instead Cruze sounds downright tentative, timid even…evident in his body language as well. His shoulders slump and his head is lowered as he approaches Cagero, who throws an arm over the top of the door, leaning against it with a smirk on his face. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t relish the sight of Cruze in such a disheveled fashion.

Silencer: Well…well…look what Taylor Chase dragged in between her knees.

Orlando: Can we talk?

Silencer: Sure we can…actually, you talk, and I’ll pretend I’m listening.

Every grain…every speck is channeled into controlling Orlando’s impulses. A one on one dialogue with Silencer, involves a great deal of will power.

Orlando: Oh you’ll listen, because I’m offering you something Simon…something you can’t turn down.

With a sigh, Silencer crosses his arms and feigns intrigue.

Silencer: Get on with it.

Orlando: I’m offering a truce…an armistice between us. Let’s put our past in the past, let’s move on amicably, and find some common ground….

Silencer: Hahaha, how long did you rehearse this in front of a mirror.

Orlando: Simon, I’m serious. This animosity…it’s not good for either one of us. I saw what just happened out there, the IWC is in open warfare right now…we all NEED to be on the same page if we want to take down the Blacklist. That’s the only way we’re going to chase those bastards out of my….OUR company.

Silencer: Uh-huh…

Silencer stretches and yawns, forcing a more emotional outburst from Orlando.

Orlando: Dammit Silencer! This is serious!

The two step up on one another, tension escalating.

Orlando: You think I want to do this? No…hell no….you, Christian, your equally as culpable as the Blacklist for what the Board did to me this week. So it’s going against everything…absolutely EVERYTHING I believe to come to you now, and bury the hatchet…

Silencer: Why does this sound so familiar?

Fingers raise to Silencer’s lips, before snapping right in front of Orlando’s face.

Silencer: Oh yeah, because I heard this same song and dance during our joyride last week. While Christian and I were falling on our swords you kept playing the deflection game, blaming every one, from me, to your GILF for the fate that’s befallen you. Newflash fucker, you brought this whole shitstorm down on yourself.

Orlando: Alright…alright, Simon, can we just get down to brass tax?

Silencer: Yeppers, just get to your motherfucking point already.

Orlando: I need your help, Simon…actually, we NEED each other. So how about we put aside our differences, for now at least, for the greater good, and you…..

Silencer: Hold it…

A time out is signaled by Cagero.

Silencer: Let me digest this. You, the great Orlando Cruze, THE ICON, is asking me, the UN-marketable, Silencer, the guy who could never put asses in the seats, and constantly buckled under pressure, to be your partner? Is that right?

Orlando: Wait, give me a chance to finish…You’re not hearing me correctly. I never…

Orlando doesn’t like where this is going, realizing that Silencer has a very good memory, considering he’s just used every slam…every insult…every derogatory comment the Icon has uttered in regards to Cagero over the past few months, in the string of that one sentence.

Orlando: We’ve both said some things in the heat of the moment we wish we could take back, Sim….

Silencer: No…no…no….Lando…Believe it or not, I do have a conscious.

A hand is placed on Orlando’s very tensed shoulder.

Silencer: And my conscious would be plagued if I were to go out there and be the albatross around your neck.

Orlando: I gave you far less credit than your entitled to. And you‘re still not getting what I‘m offering you here…

Silencer: Just can’t do it. I wouldn’t dream of holding back the only man capable of taking the IWC into the stratosphere. The man who sells so many t-shirts and foam fingers…the man…the ONLY man….TRULY deserving of holding the World Heavyweight Championship. So I tell you what, Orlando…

The messed up collar of the Icon is straightened by Silencer, and some lint is knocked off his shoulder.

Silencer: I’m not going to keep you from being all that you can be, Orlando. I’m not going be that heavy burden on your back. So my suggestion, you go out there and compete on your own…since me….and everyone else on the roster are not good enough, and will never be good enough to measure up to you.

Silencer steps back, staring into the hollowed eyes of the Icon.

Silencer: Now if you’ll excuse me…

He steps half way into his recently acquired office, only pausing to finish his thought and simultaneously rub it in Orlando’s face.

Silencer: My fellow Motherfuckers and I have a show to run.

The door swings shut and Orlando is left pacing in anger, realizing it’s not going to be that easy to win back over his roster. Not thinking clearly, he reaches down, snatches up a Big Gulp sitting on the floor and throws it down the hall.

Sparkles: AHHHH! Seriously Bro!?!

Lovejoy and Sparkles for once are on the same page, considering that the pair is shocked and outraged by the urine that saturates them.. The Big Gulp imploded upon collision with their bodies.

Sparkles: Quick, blow me, Greyson.

Lovejoy: Don’t you mean, blow on you?

Sparkles: That too.

Orlando looks totally unapologetic, his mind preoccupied as it goes back to the drawing board.

Romance is in the air….or at least the bad violin music and fruity digitized hearts floating around the screen make a futile endeavor to imply as much. One giant heart appears with P Clarence Whitman III’s face encapsulated inside of it, while another floats up next to his, showcasing Lois Prince’s smiling mug. A cartoon cupid flies in and shoots an arrow through both hearts… uniting them. Some cheesy Barry Manilow inspired tune takes the place of whatever horrid violin instrumental was blaring in the background.

Dollar: Orlando Cruze having trouble finding a partner for that tag team match he scheduled over Twitter…Christian Savior and Silencer already turning down the opportunity to tag with him….It’s blown up in his face big time…

Susie: Like a holy hand grenade.

Dollar: Not only has it just cost him his role as President of the IWC, but now he’s presumably headed into a friggin handicapped match next week. And another individual who’s had issues finding a partner the past few weeks, is P. Clarence Whitman III….BUT…it appears that he’s at last found a kindred spirit in the form of Lois Prince. As we understand it the two of them went on their first date this week, and for God only knows what reason, IWC cameras were invited along.

Susie: I’d much prefer more Tommy Wiseau.

Dollar: And as I understand it, the date didn’t go nearly as Whitman would have preferred. We’ll have more on this throughout the night.

Static briefly blurs the screen before the pixilation forms into an IV pole and drip bag. As if looking through the eyes of a patient, the camera turns to observe the ceiling before at last settling on the source of a calming voice.

I‘m your biggest fan…

That same mysterious woman, with her hair draped before her face hovers above the camera, acting as if she’s looking down into the worried features of her patient.

Don’t worry IWC…I’m your biggest fan.

From the very little that can be seen, a slight grin begins to form on her face, revealing yellowed teeth.

But we’re gonna have to talk about all the swearing, IWC….It has no nobility.

A sledgehammer slowly works its way up into her palms.

Tick-tock…tick-tock…tick-tock…

Mika: Here we go again.

Once more the camera shakes to the point where Tylenol will be the only thing to stifle the migraines of the masses. What induces an even greater migraine is the sight of Mika Kozlov, turning her IPhone camera towards the sadistic smirk on her face.

Mika: We’re streaming…

Harrison and Montgomery step into view, simultaneously putting their arms over Mika’s shoulders as the trio stands as a unit amongst dimly lit surroundings.

Mika: This message goes out not to the brainwashed masses of the IWC…

Montgomery: The corrupted.

Harrison: The manipulated.

Mika: The STUPID!

Harrison: Our message is for those and only those who THINK they have power.

Montgomery: But we KNOW who has the power here tonight….

Mika: Blue Eyes, Cowboy and sweet little Mika…that’s who.

She pulls Lukas into a kiss on the cheek, then plants a big fat wet one right on Harrison’s lips.

Harrison: For the first time in this company’s history, you finally have fair, unbiased bosses, but predictably, the likes of Christian Savior, Silencer, Creed, Cassius and the Black Crusade, who cling so desperately to their power hungry ambitions, came out and tried to create an imbalance, tried to take over the show for their own selfish needs.

Mika: We put the kibosh on that.

Montgomery: And when Mika and I tangle with the Black Crusade tonight, we’ll continue to put down their insurrection.

Mika: Silencer and the likes, may have the spoils, taking over Orlando’s office, but we’re the true winners of this war….

Harrison: Which ends tonight, when Christian Savior truly feels the same pitiful plight of his wife. But Savior will be no martyr…no victim…just like Orlando, he’s the true monster in all of this. He’s fighting to ensure that the IWC falls into unrest, into chaos, by trying to destroy the stabilizing force that is the Blacklist. We’re keeping this company from tearing itself apart at the seems…but Savior, he loves carnage, he thrives on anarchy. Something needs to be done about him….the exact same something we did to Rose, to ensure that she couldn’t weasel her way out of defending the World Championship last week.

Mika: We know the Saviors, we know the games they like to play.

Montgomery: It’s the only area where we actually can find some common ground with Orlando.

Harrison: In spite of the fact that Orlando places his own ambitions over the good of this company, of this roster, and of his love…his greed doesn‘t entirely warp him….he can still see the snake in the grass…that snake being the Saviors. They’re out to do nothing…nothing more than bring about the ruination of the IWC, but the Blacklist, we’ve been a counter balance…a force to bring peace to this company by removing all those who look to bring down the glorious harmony we‘ve established.

Mika: That’s what good bosses do, they deal with unruly employees.

Montgomery: Something tells me that Christian isn’t going home with a glorious severance package though.

Harrison: No, and he WON’T be going home either…I’m afraid we MUST make an example out of Savior….one that sends him to the hospital gurney directly beside his wife. We can’t tolerate the unrest that Christian creates, we can’t allow the rest of the roster to be given the impression that his type of antics will be tolerated. So tonight, Christian, considering you’re so intent on following in the footsteps of your girl….I’m going to make sure you follow the very same path she took out of this building last week…vacating the Manhattan Center in an ambulance. For tonight, Christian Savior versus Aaron Harrison, it’s an ambulance match. The only way to win, is to put your opponent on a stretcher, strap them in and put them in the back of an ambulance. And upon finishing you, Christian, the IWC will at last achieve peace….stability….harmony.

Montgomery: And Black Crusade…you loons aren’t getting off easy either.

Mika: Hope you’ve signed up for Obamacare, cause you’re gonna need it when we use one of you as our own little instagram to Legion. Yep, one of you….or maybe even BOTH of you, are going to serve as nothing more than a message.

Montgomery: The message that we shouldn’t be afraid of him in that High Stakes tag at Upping the Ante…

Mika: That HE should be afraid of US.

A bottle of alcohol is raised into the air by Lukas, who takes a swig while Mika lifts a Zippo lighter, popping it open and striking the flint to produce a flame. One that she brings dangerously close to the lens of her Iphone camera.

Mika: It’s gonna be a hot time in the cold town tonight, Black Crusade.

The lighter snaps shut after a symbolic message has just been sent.

MOMENTS AGO

A still frame image of the Blacklist, Mika sandwiched between Montgomery and Harrison, is seen from the perspective of the Iphone camera held in front of their faces.

Dollar: And we return to Riot! After THIS cryptic message was just sent to Christian Savior AND the Black Crusade.

The footage begins to roll along…

Harrison: So tonight, Christian, considering you’re so intent on following in the footsteps of your girl….I’m going to make sure you follow the very same path she took out of this building last week…vacating the Manhattan Center in an ambulance. For tonight, Christian Savior versus Aaron Harrison, it’s an ambulance match. The only way to win, is to put your opponent on a stretcher, strap them in and put them in the back of an ambulance. And upon finishing you, Christian, the IWC will at last achieve peace….stability….harmony.

After making the grim challenge to Christian for a match that promises all forms of chaos, another threat is made by the Blacklist, directed primarily at the Black Crusade members they’re set to face tonight in that six person tag match.

A bottle of alcohol is raised into the air by Lukas, who takes a swig while Mika lifts a Zippo lighter, popping it open and striking the flint to produce a flame. One that she brings dangerously close to the lens of her Iphone camera.

Mika: It’s gonna be a hot time in the cold town tonight, Black Crusade.

Dollar: Things heating up….literally…as we head towards TWO of our main events this evening.

Susie: Are the Black Crusade and the Blacklist gonna roast smores? If so that’s totally unfair that I wasn’t invited.

Dollar: I think the Blacklist is intent on roasting something else tonight, and it’s not marshmallows.

The New Age femme fatales take center-stage, with both Christina Moore and Miss Jade moving around the ring, slapping hands, throwing IWC merchandise, even kissing kids on the cheeks all in a desperate attempt to get themselves over and keep the fans hyped.

Dollar: Speaking of heating things up, we’re about to see two of the hottest young up and comers go at it. As Christina Moore here, debuts in the IWC to go at it with fellow New Age graduate Miss Jade. The winner getting a big bump up the card here in the IWC.

Susie: I’m sure YOU’D like to bump one of them in a different way.

Dollar: BOTH actually, at the same time. But speaking of taking a bump, Christina’s gonna be introduced to the IWC landscape the hard way, because she’s facing Miss Jade, a woman just as eager, just as determined, just as hungry to make an immediate impact here in the IWC.

Susie: When did you turn into Sparkles…and if you have…please don’t turn back into Johnny Dollar.

Dollar: These two ladies represent the New Age, a revolutionary concept here in the IWC that is given talent from all over the world a place to hone their skills at that final level before they at last reach the big time. And that’s what Christina and Miss Jade have done, they’ve reached the big show…now they’ve got to prove they deserve to be here.

Referee Stuart Wright is within the ring and ready to officiate what promises to be an athletic encounter between two absolutely beautiful but brutal young ladies. They begin to circle one another instead of circling the ring, ready to tie up just as the official turns to signal for the bell. The moment hammer strikes bell though, the entire screen is taken over…the feed to Riot, all of a sudden being hacked rather unexpectedly.

Judgment….

In a series of rather cryptic flashes we see a live version of Lady Justice laying across a bearskin rug with a roaring fire casting light over her shoulders. She is sprawled out beside a figure seated in a large wooden antique chair, his back aimed to the camera.

Has been made….

We’re back live in the ring…momentarily at least to reveal a confused Christina Moore and Miss Jade glaring at the Cartel-Tron from the ring. Back to the video of Lady Justice now resting her head in the lap of the mystery man, blood seeping through the bandage around her eyes.

No evidence was needed, I don’t have to see you compete to know your under qualified and undeserving of the roles you’ve been given. For the mere sight of you is enough for me to render such a verdict. You’re botox faces…you’re enlarged chests….your plastic bodies…they have damned you. For they may have got you this far in life, to the biggest stage of your careers…but now…those same fake bodies that all men lust over…..will be your undoing. For the perception of what makes a ‘star’ around here is about to change…and the only way to institute change…is through making examples…especially if those examples are…eye opening.

Before either lady can react to this grim warning, the lights go out in the building and flicker for what seems to be just a few moments. When they come back up however, both Jade and Moore are no longer in defensive stances, but are instead rolling around the canvas, palms wedged to their eyes, and blood oozing through the cracks of their fingers. Referee Wright spins in circles, unaffected by whatever just came to the ring and with lightning speed seemed to gouge the eyes of both Christina Moore and Miss Jade.

Dollar: What just happened? What just happened!?!

Susie: We must have someone running around here with super Scanners power, because they just made Christina’s and Jade’s eyeballs explode.

Dollar: This is just weird…weird even by IWC standards. I believe that the individual known as Ba’al has just made his first impact here on Riot! By blinding both Christina and Jade….But why…what is his modus operandi?

Susie: He took away the sight of two absolutely ravishing beauties so they’ll never be able to see their gorgeous good looks again, AND to send a message to these fans that eye candy will no longer be tolerated.

Cheese…pure….unadulterated cheese….the best way to describe that Barry Manilow rip off tune in the background, the floating cupid, the heart shaped frames around the faces of P. Clarence Whitman III and Lois Prince….But wait…there’s a new edition…giant red slashes forming a ‘X’ over the faces of the lovey dovey duo.

Frankie: Fuck Whitman….and I’d like to fuck that Christian chick he’s out to bang too.

The following images are of Bella Swan and Edward Cullen…

Frankie: And fuck those glittery Twilight bitches too…Especially Kristen Stewart, hoe needs an acting lesson stat!

Buttercup and Wesley, of Princess Bride fame are featured rolling down a hill after one another.

Frankie: Yeah, get to steppin ass-hats…you’re romance equals fail…especially when compared to the EPIC love-story here in the IWC. Not a one of them can even begin to compare to the bond…the infatuation…between Tay-Tay and I.

In a flash we see Frankie Paradise in the center of the ring, holding the Evolution Championship while puckering up towards Tay-Tay. She looks squeamish at the thought of being forced to kiss Frankie in order to get back the Evolution Title.

Frankie: Not Jack and Rose…

The legendary couple stands on the edge of the Titanic, Rose enjoying the wind in her air and the sensation of flight.

Frankie: I’d never let Tay-Tay just fall into the ocean cause my fat ass didn’t want to share a flotation device. If Rose put herself on a Jenny Craig diet, there could have been at least ten extra inches on that door to totally fit Jack‘s anorexic ass.

Gomez and Morticia Adams whisper strange French dialects before indulging in some kinky hijinks.

Frankie: Those emo bitches got nuttin…nuttin on Tay-Tay and I. Though I totally dig the stache Gomez. They think they know true love. No way.

Back to clips of Frankie and Tay-Tay’s flirtatious relationship.

Frankie: None of these Hollywood slut couples…Robert Pattinson especially…will ever match the true life love affair between Taylor Chase and Frankie ‘You Wish You Had These Abs’ Paradise. We’ve got the type of love you’d only find in one of those Hallmark movies…you know…the type featuring Catherine Bell as a hawt bangable witch. But yeah…she’s nowhere near as hot as the time spent between Tay-Tay and I.

There’s another scene featuring Frankie’s hands on Tay-Tay’s shoulders, giving them a very passionate massage before working their way down inappropriately to the hooks of her bra.

Frankie: And why is our love affair far more passionate than the likes of Cullen and Swan…or Buttercup and Wesley…or any of those other couples fat bitches sit around daydreaming about while stuffing their faces with copious amounts of Hog‘n‘Dos? Because our relationship is REAL…it‘s TRUE. I never once shied away from showing Chase my REAL feelings…and only she‘s seen the TRUE Paradise.

A big hug is exchanged between the pair, which ironically sandwiches Frankie’s face between Chase’s pair of chest melons.

Frankie: The Paradise that will go to any lengths…will stop at nothing short of punching the pope in his cock if that‘s what it takes to make Tay-Tay happy.

An unconscious Tay-Tay is dragged over top of Frankie’s chest by Frankie himself, to ensure that she gets the pinfall. In another clip we see Paradise stepping between Taylor and his own tag team partner, El Presidente, protecting her from an onslaught outside of the ring.

Frankie: I live by the mantra….do what’s best for Tay-Tay. And my actions have demonstrated as such.

Frankie Paradise masquerading as Silencer….Frankie Paradise being strangled by Rose Savior….Frankie Paradise and Tay-Tay diving behind the wheel of a car to pursue Disco Ninja and Katelyn Buehler.

Frankie: Sure, I‘ve stumbled a few times…we‘ve had our ups and our downs…though I wish there was a lot more going down…

Disco Ninja sidesteps Tay-Tay and pushes her steel braced knee right along into the jaw of Frankie, right in the midst of looking for a smooch. The footage cuts to a disorientated Paradise being spun around by Chase, who mistakes her for Silencer, leaping into the air and hitting her with the Snapshot.

Frankie: In spite of a few fuck-ups, I still remain entirely devoted to making Tay-Tay‘s day.

Frankie Paradise double stomping a chair wrapped around Silencer’s knee…Frankie Paradise standing beside Tay-Tay and Brittney Lohan as they stare-down the Blacklist…

Frankie: But my devotion didn‘t just make Tay-Tay‘s day, it resulted in the single greatest moment of her LIFE!

Taylor: I DID IT! I DID IT!!

The World Title is held to the heavens as Chase leaps around the ring.

Frankie: Erm…yeah…there’s that…but I was actually talking about THIS…

That same repulsive kiss exchanged between Tay-Tay and Frankie is shown again, and again, and again from a number of angles….from afar, from up close…from the scaffolds, from ringside…from the stands, from within the squared circle. The glorious peck on the lips is captured from every angle imaginable.

Frankie: The day a single kissed burst hymens around the world.

Frankie paces in front of the studio chair and the wall mounted television, his leather jacket flung over his shoulder. The expensive, airbrushed coat is tossed back over the chair so that Paradise can swoon…flapping his hand towards his face to give him some air.

Frankie: That shit was steamier than anything Hollywood has ever produced. You think Buttercup and Wesley are capable of a kiss like that? Fucks-to-the-no! And what made our embrace so powerful…so meaningful…so frickin’ hawt!?!

He snaps his fingers and the screen behind him showcases an image of Tay-Tay holding the World Title high…HIGH above her beautiful head.

Frankie: Cause I did what Orlando couldn’t….I did what he never TRIED…I was the first man in Tay-Tay’s life to truly put her needs before my own. To do all that needed to be done…to make so many sacrifices…endure so many hardships…put up with so much shit and set-backs…in order to make sure Tay-Tay got what truly was best for her…Fuck that…what was best for EVERYONE!

He turns to pick up his coat but steps back and scratches his head when her realizes its missing.

Frankie: At last we’ve all got a World Champion…a REAL World Champion…

Attention shifts back to the camera, Frankie remaining unperturbed by the misplacement of his coat.

Frankie: Not some Olive Oil looking shapeless twig bitch…not a bald ego maniacal twat…but a champion with curves…a champion with smarts…a champion you all had better damn well respect! And you will….Silencer….Christian Savior….Orlando Cruze…you all WILL respect your Champion, I‘ll make sure of it.

The camera pulls in closer on the snide grin stretched over Frankie’s face.

Frankie: Cause if you don’t respect her…if you so much as DARE to try and ruin this moment for her, I’ll make sure you all end up in the exact same condition as Rose Savior.

Another snap followed by a screen grab featuring blood….ungodly amounts of it…secreting from every orifice on Rose’s face, turning it into the proverbial crimson mask.

A switchblade is polished by an alcohol soaked rag, making the dagger so shiny that Cassidy Haze can see her reflection in it. Her weapon of choice continues to be swiped by the clothe. If only someone were there to confirm that it had reached its desire luster, but Brittany Lohan is the only one in the locker-room alongside her tag team partner for the evening, and she’s way too busy…doing what you may ask? Why polishing her own weapon….a crowbar.

Dollar: Cassidy Haze and Brittany Lohan preparing to team up for the first time in the IWC. The crazy bitches are set for action against Porno Lad and Silencer, but first, we’re going to get a comment with this psychotic duo after the commercial break.

Weapons continue to be prepared for the blood-letting that shall occur in due time…the carnage that shall be unleashed by the lethal lasses….weapons cleaned for now…but moments from being saturated by the bodily secretions of their foes. The camera pulls back to reveal another duo, these two occupying the hallway just outside of the dressing room, Mark Comeau and Sparkles…well…I guess its more of a trio if you count Greyson Lovejoy into the equation. The still urine splashed Sparkles, and the binge drinking Comeau, who takes a periodic swig from his flask, seem to be in an intense battle of rock, paper, scissors to decide who’s going to conduct this interview, neither volunteering for the task ahead of them.

Sirens wail, lights flash off the walls of the internal parking garage, and tires screech to a halt as the ambulance arrives.

Dollar: That didn’t take long at all. An ambulance arriving backstage at the behest of the Blacklist. It appears that we are going to see that Ambulance match between Aaron Harrison and Christian Savior after all.

Susie: Can I play with the lights and the sirens? Please let me play with the lights and the sirens….PLEASE!

Dollar: I’m telling you right now, THIS is not going to be pretty. Savior versus Harrison…Ambulance Match…still yet to come here tonight on Riot!

Porno Lad: WTF…

Katelyn Buehler stands there in the backstage corridor, absorbing it all, the anger, the rage, the fire in Porno Lad, as he storms back and forth…back and forth…back and forth…screaming to the high heavens…to the depths of hell…and to the innards of Katelyn’s soul.

Porno Lad: What was that Katelyn? Seriously? What was that?

Gestures are made in the direction of the ring.

Porno Lad: Why? Why did you just run out there and help that anorexic ass-bandit?

Clearly he’s eluding to the fact that Katelyn prevented an attack by Jacob Laymon on the man he finds more repulsive than Tara Reid’s terrible boob-job, Mr. Gaunt.

Porno Lad: You should have let that Michael Chicklis wannabe cripple his ass, and then the two of us would never have to worry about the Black Crusade again. So why? Why the fucks did you get involved?

Katelyn doesn’t reply, just remains emotionally stagnant as she stares forward.

Porno Lad: What? Are you sleeping with him? Are you letting the Black Crusade run a train on your ass or somet….?

Katelyn: Are you through?

Porno Lad: No I’m not. I mean, the guy had me power bombed on a fucking announce table a couple weeks ago, and there you are racing out there to help him…

Katelyn: You’ll never understand.

Porno Lad: What?

Katelyn: You just don‘t get what Mr. Gaunt did for me.

It looks like the Original Prankster was just asked to go down on Kathy Bates.

Katelyn: Thanks to him…I…I…for the first tine in my life…I feel like I can do anything….

Porno Lad: Like what?

Buehler doesn’t respond too well to the cynicism latent in Porno Lad’s tone.

Katelyn: Like winning the World Heavyweight Title.

The revelation has Porno Lad’s head spinning.

Katelyn: Christian didn’t stand in Rose’s way when it came to the biggest win of her life, now quit standing in mine.

Katelyn begins to walk away when her wrist is snatched, Porno Lad holding her in place.

Porno Lad: Don’t you realize what’s happening here? You’ve been fucking brainwashed.

She rips her wrist out of Porno Lad’s hand.

Katelyn: No, for the first time in my life…my head is clear…clear of fears…clear of doubts….clear of everything that was holding me back.

Porno Lad: Holding you back?

Katelyn: And the only person I have to thank for this…

A feint grin takes shape on Porno Lad’s face.

Katelyn: Is Leeland Gaunt.

The words hurt worse than the cane shot Porno Lad took to the back of his skull last week at the hands of Ducky. Nevertheless he refuses to let his emotion show in front of Buehler…because faces…mega-faces…have no weaknesses….have no emotion. So he lets her walk away instead of uttering another word that could let Katelyn hear his voice cracking.

Troubles?

Porno Lad should know to have eyes in the back of his head after the repeated blindside attacks from Ducky, Haze, and so many others. Therefore, anyone sneaking up on him, even if it were his own mother, would be treated to the same response. Porno Lad whips around, fists raised at the ready, about to indulge in some fisticuffs. But who is he about to go at it with? A member of the Black Crusade? A member of the Blacklist? Another terrorist deserving of some water boarding at Gitmo? No…it’s the Trailer Park Kid…or TPKid for time and oxygen saving purposes….standing there with a balloon in hand.

Porno Lad: I fail to see how MY problems are any of YOUR business.

TPKid protrudes his lower lip and bats his eyes as if offended by the comment.

TPKid:; The hell if their not…Pornster. Don’t you remember? We all made a truce a couple weeks ago?

Now it’s Porno Lad’s eyes batting.

TPKid: You haven’t a clue what I’m talking about, do you?

Porno Lad: I did a lot of LSD back in college…my short term memory is for shits.

TPKid: Okay, let me give you a refresher. You talked about shotguns, and shooting all the bad bitches around here, which would have been win…spelled in all uppercase letters….

Porno Lad: OH…oh yeah…the face summit. All you had to say was shotguns.

TPKid: But then we all agreed we should watch out for each other instead.

Porno Lad: Remind me…why did we rule out shotguns?

TPKid: Incarceration. And shower rapes.

Porno Lad: Oh yeah.

TPKid: Just wanted to let you know I’m still all for it, Chief…

Porno Lad: Shower rapes?

TPKid: Erm, no. Having each other’s backs….

Porno Lad: Sounds an awful lot like shower rapes to me.

TPKid: You know what, just take this….

The balloon is handed to Porno Lad.

TPKid: Figured it might brighten your spirits, because, you know, they float…they allll float.

Ethan doesn’t know rather he should be excited or frightened by the gift.

TPKid: And you know what else may brighten your day? Not just taking me up on my offer to have your back tonight, but at Upping the Ante.

Porno Lad: In what way?

TPKid: I know you get to pick your partner for that Tag Team Title match at the pay-per-view, and I’m here to volunteer my services to be THAT tag team partner. Just think about it, we would make the PERFECT team.

Porno Lad: How do you figure?

TPKid: Come on….isn’t it obvious? TP-KID…Porno LAD! This shit pretty much writes itself.

With finger raised to his chin, exuding the look of someone in deep thought, Porno Lad begins to connect the dots.

Porno Lad: My GAWD, you may just be onto something. We could become the modern day Mega-Powers. With far less steroids and far more hair product.

TPKid: Agreed, and just to show you that I’m truly the best choice to be your partner…I think you should watch what I do in that ring…next.

Porno Lad: Oh I’ll be watching, if I’m not too busy in the office of the Motherfuckers telling them that I’ve found my most epic partner.

A smirking TPKid has a bit of a pep in his step as he strolls towards the ring scheduled for competition with Krista Lewis.

“I Get Off“ by Halestorm hit’s the pa system, Kirsta Lewis comes out 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.

Dollar: “Kirsta Lewis definitely isn’t afraid to show her lack of interest of what the crowd thinks here tonight!”

Susie: “She had an impressive win over Damion Sommer’s last week and even helped TPKid get back at Claude Rose after their match. Now they have to face off against each other here tonight!”

“24 Hours” by Gucci Mane hit’s the PA system as the crowd cheers when the Trailer Park Kid walks out in a white wife beater, blue jean shorts, and brown timberland boots while holding his baseball bat on his shoulder. The Black Magic woman wearing black tights walks out behind him pointing at the Trailer Park Kid as to “show him off” as they walk down the entrance ramp. The TPKid slaps fans hands as the Black Magic Woman looks on in disgust. TPKid slides into the ring before holding the ropes open for the Black Magic Woman. He jumps up onto the turnbuckles raising his bat as the fans cheer before jumping down and handing the Black Magic Woman his bat before holding open the ropes so she can exit the ring as he awaits the match to begin.

Dollar: “And here comes The Trailer Park Kid who is….a unique little character in his own right. Especially as seen just a few moments ago backstage when dealing with Porno Lad.”

Susie: “Hey it takes some courage to represent all the trailer parks out there. He’s looking to change the reputation of Trailer Park Trash into Trailer Park Champions!”

Dollar: “Yeah good luck with that…”

The bells rings as they circle each other around the ring before locking up in the center of the ring. Kirsta knees him in the gut before trying to irish whip him against the ropes but the TPKid stops in his tracks and pulls her towards him before dropping her hard with a big clothesline. The crowd cheers but Kirsta then sits up on the mat looking like she’s about to cry. The TPKid stares at her looking confused as she stands up and screams at him. “How can you hit me? I’m a woman!” The Trailer Park Kid then starts to feel bad as he tries to put his hand on his shoulder to comfort her while saying “I’m sorry”. Kirsta then delivers a vicious smack to the face as the crowd boo’s. The TPKid stumbles backwards holding his face but as he looks up Kirsta launches a vicious “Hell’s Bitch Kick” super kick and drills TPKid who falls to the canvas as the crowd oh‘s. Kirsta quickly drops down to go for the cover as the crowd boo’s.

1!

2!

The TPKid luckily gets his shoulder up just in time. Luckily the kick hit him on the nose instead of the jaw but not at the price of blood flowing out of the TPKid’s nose. Kirsta sits up looking pissed that the TPKid just got his shoulder up in time.

Susie: “Kirsta’s little trick almost beat the TPKid in under thirty seconds!”

Dollar: “Just goes to show why you should never trust a woman!”

Susie: “Yeah because one woman represents us all…”

Dollar: “Hey, you could of fooled me!”

Kirsta stands up before grabbing TPKId’s ankle going for an ankle lock but the TPKid is able to push her off with his other leg before rushing back to his feet. Kirsta runs at him with a clothesline but the TPKid ducks under before throwing her over with a big back back body drop as the crowd cheers. She rushes back up holding her back but the TPKid meets with a big drop kick that takes her off her feet. He jumps at the ropes before leaping off with a spring board moonsault but Kirsta gets her knees up just in time as TPKids ribs bounce off as the crowd oh’s. The TPKId rolls on the ground in pain as Kirsta rushes back to her feet and stomps the TPKid in the back of the head. He sits up only for her to then apply a dragon sleeper. She starts to squeeze with all her might as the Black Magic Woman smacks the ring apron screaming at the TPKid to get out of the hold. His face starts to turn red as she relentless squeezes the hold but the crowd’s cheers start to energize him as he starts to clench his fist and shake with energy. He sits up before slowly starting to stand as Kirsta gets a little worried he’s about to get out of the choke. The TPKid is able to turn his body into her before throwing a elbow at her stomach but she’s able to back away to dodge it and deliver a big knee to the face before taking him down with a karate kick. The crowd oh’s as she goes for the cover once again.

1!

2!

TPKid kicks out once again.

Susie: “Kirsta has been relentless so far! TPKId has his hand full tonight!”

Dollar: “I thought he was about to go to sleep with that choke hold! TPKid wisely found his way out just in time. Kirsta is hurting him badly with these kicks though. He doesn’t seem to have an answer as one almost ended this match early again!”

They both make it to their feet as the TPKid runs at Kirsta in anger but she’s able to counter his momentum and send him over with a sunset flip. TPKid is able to land on his feet though as she turns around and looks pissed. She stands back up as he comes back at her but this time she counters him with a hip toss that puts him on his ass. He tries to rush back to his feet but a scissors kick puts him back on the ground. She again tries to grab his ankle for an ankle lock but this time he drills her in the face with his timberland boot that sends her back into the ropes. He stands back up as she screams and runs at him but he is able to take her down with a spine buster as the crowd cheers! Kirsta rolls to belly trying to quickly get up trying to fight through the pain but the TPKid quickly puts his arm under her neck before clenching it together with his other hand over her head. He sits out before putting a leg over his arms and her head to lock in a Peruvian Necktie better known in the Trailer Park as the Black Mamba! The crowd cheers as Kirsta desperately tries to fight for air.

Susie: “Black Mamba! Kirsta’s face is already starting to turn blue as he has that in tight!”

Dollar: “That is the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen in my life but it looks like it’s about to put Kirstas lights out really fast!”

Kirsta desperately reaches for the ropes but to no avail. Suddenly her manager Jackie Daniels runs over to her and pushes the ropes in towards her as she reaches out again and this time is able to grab them. The ref forces the TPKid to break the hold but then screams at Jackie for handing Kirsta the ropes. Jackie just smiles and walks away like nothing happened. Kirsta lays on her back holding her throat desperately trying to get air flow going again as TPKid interrupts by pulling her to her feet by her hair. He then hooks her arm over his shoulder before lifting her up for a suplex but she’s able to turn her body loose and land behind him before taking him down with a big Russian leg sweep. Kirsta then flicks off the TPKid before doing the same to the crowd as she walks over to the corner and climbs up onto the top rope. TPKid suddenly explodes back to his feet and runs at the corner. He hits her with a big right hand that knocks her off balance and sends her flying off the turnbuckles backwards landing awkwardly on her arm. She tried to catch her fall but a snap is heard as he face slams off the top step. The crowd oh’s as her arm is twisted in a awful position that it shouldn’t be in. It’s evident her arm is broken.

Susie: “HOLY….Her arm just snapped in half!”

Dollar: “O I think I’m going to be sick…”

Mothers are seen covering their children’s eyes as Kirsta is laying on the ground screaming in pain. The Black Magic Woman is jumping up and down for joy screaming at the TPKid to “FINISH THAT BITCH!” The TPKid looks over the ropes and sees Kirsta in pain before cringing at her broken arm hanging off her elbow like the sight from a horror movie. He looks back at the Black Magic Woman who looks angered.

Black Magic Woman: “What the hell are you waiting for? Now’s your chance! Finish her off for good!”

The Trailer Park Kid looks back at Kirsta who’s now being attended too by her manage Jackie Daniels who tries to comfort her through the pain. TPKid looks at Black Magic Woman and shakes his head no as the ref signal’s an “X” with his arm to the back and signaling an injury and starts to count Kirsta out.

1!

2!

3!

4!

BMW: “Do be such a pussy and finish her! This is the moment you’ve been waiting for! Make a statement!”

5!

6!

TPKid continues to shake his head not willing to go out there and inflict more damage after knowing Kirsta is already done for good.

7!

8!

9!

10!

DING! DING! DING!

Jessica Wilde: “And the winner of this match by Count Out! THE TRAILER PARK KID!”

The crowd cheers at the TPKid for showing mercy as he exit’s the ring as the Black Magic Woman looks at him in disgust. Several members of the medical staff come running out from the back to attend to Kirsta’s arm.

Dollar: TPKid demonstrating some noble and honorable traits…I guess that will enamor him to Porno Lad.

Susie: I think washing his hair would make a much better impression on Porno Lad.

Dollar: So wait. You actually want TPKid to wash Porno Lad’s hair?

Susie: No…but that does sound steamy. I was actually saying TPKid should wash his own….

Susie’s clarification is cut short the moment the lights in the building start to flicker and some static cuts into the camera.

Dollar: Oh isn’t this just wonderful? Is Mr. Hush playing with some toggles in the production truck again?

Susie: I hope so…because we so need to fill our Saved by the Bell quota for the night. It’s sorely been lacking thus far….

Suddenly the announce table begins to rumble, causing the commentators to inch away ever so slowly.

Dollar: I take it that Orlando Cruze isn’t the only one suffering some apparent White Castle related gas issues…

Susie: Is our table possessed? Someone throw holy water on our table NOW!

The rumbling stops…briefly…before the announce table explodes into dozens of pieces. Executioner stands where the fully in tact table used to be. Everyone, the monster included, are beyond confused at the sight of his sudden appearance.

Susie: It’s Scary McBoo!

Dollar: How in the….? How did Executioner just appear from under our announce table?

Susie: And how did he make this chocolate pudding magically appear in my underpants?

Dollar: Something tells me that isn’t chocolate pudding, Susie.

Instead of questioning how in the world he got here, Executioner brushes dust off his shoulders, shrugs them, and then walks on. As he leaves the camera turns to the source of the video and audio distortion, the Black Crusade symbol seemingly singed into the concrete where the announce table once stood.

Some clarity is desperately needed after that abnormal sight witnessed at ringside, but that’s not Mark Comeau’s job function. No, the backstage correspondent has but one task, to further muddy the water.

Mark: Ladies and gentlemen….I’m standing here in the locker-room of Cassidy Haze and Brittany Lohan.

Camera pulls back and reveals the two collaborating with one another. Cassidy and Brittany barely even acknowledge the presence of the slightly inebriated Comeau.

Mark: Ladies….ummm…ladies.

Fingers snap in a desperate attempt to get their attention. Haze turns around and bats heavily shaded eyes.

Cassidy: Awww…real sorry to keep ya’ waiting. Marky.

A pat on the top of his head does absolutely nothing to soothe an agitated Comeau.

Cassidy: But you know how us girls like to gossip.

A titled head and Cheshire grin fail just as much to soothe…and instead create greater unrest.

Lohan: And who let you into the women’s lockeroom?

Brittany inquires, feeling as if some sacred trust has been violated.

Cassidy: Privacy laws have never kept Mark out of the woman’s locker-room. Besides, he got all kinds of smoochies the last time he came in here.

That Cheshire grin…now it’s stretched over Mark’s face, especially as Cassidy scratches under his chin like he were indeed a cat.

Cassidy: You expecting a repeat performance? Want some kisses and cuddles?

His tie is grabbed and used to reel Mark in like he were at the end of a fishing line.

Cassidy: Maybe a few pecks on the neck? A little nibble on the earlobe….before I work my tongue down into your…..

Mark: Ewww….ewwww…

Mark is almost purring like a kitten before at last being spat out like a hairball.

Lohan: Stop playing with him…Cassidy.

From behind Haze is dragged away form Mark by the collar. Brittany acting almost like a feral Momma cat, lifting her offspring by the back of the neck.

Haze: Awww….he was like putty in my hands.

Lohan: I think the only putty is in his pants.

Mark embodies the full on pouty face.

Lohan: You came here for a reason, Mark, so stop shamelessly flirting with someone totally out of your league and get to your questions.

Mark: Questions? Oh…oh yes…questions. I think I have some questions…let’s see…

Fingers are snapped for an entirely different reason.

Mark: Tonight marks the first time you two have teamed together here in the IWC, but from what I’ve gathered through the mighty power of the internet, you two have created a pretty lethal tandem in other companies.

Lohan: Yes…because Cassidy here…

Brittany strokes Cassidy’s hair as Haze interlocks her hands and twists from side to side like a bashful little girl.

Lohan: Is a pet project of mine. She’s been schooled….wonderfully so, in all the areas that count.

Mark: Like what…algebra?

Lohan: Try violence…try manipulation…try BRUTALITY. My tutelage has inspired what was once a meek little girl, to become the fiery hell kitten you‘ve only gotten but a glimpse of over the past few weeks. Tonight though, my vision for Haze will be fully realized, as she stands beside her teacher and gives everyone else a lesson in what she‘s truly capable of. And let‘s say it‘s a bit more than cutting off a few strands of Porno Lad‘s hair.

Haze: Oh, you do know how I aim to please.

Lohan: And you had better, Cassidy…

Mark: Yes, I imagine there be quite a bit of embarrassment, should the two of you, an established tag team be defeated by Porno Lad and Silencer, two men who have never teamed together before.

Lohan: We’re not concerned with wins or losses, Mark, this is our coming out party….

Mark: How hot.

Lohan: Not THAT type of coming out, Mark. Tonight, we go to that ring and use Silencer and Porno Lad as nothing more than sacrificial lambs…slaughtered to show the world the unbridled chaos the two of us are ready to unleash.

Haze: Did the IWC really think this out? Did they realize what they were getting themselves into when they paired student with pupil tonight? I don’t think they grasp what we’re going to do to my love-bug, Porno Lad, and Brittany’s least favorite wrestler, Silencer.

Mark: Lohan, you said Silencer and Porno Lad were just sacrificial lambs, nothing more…But, you’ve got to admit, this match is personal for the both of you…what with Cassidy’s issues with Porno Lad…

Haze: My lil Love Bug.

Mark: Erm…yeah…plus, Brittany, you’ve had plenty of Twitter related banter with Silencer AND just a few weeks ago, you were involved in an attack upon him and his friend Bob.

Lohan: Yeah…you’re point being?

Mark: Hasn’t that created quite the strife between the two of you?

That Cheshire grin is thrown around like a hot potato, now finding its way to Brittany’s face.

Lohan: Mark…do I look angry to you?

He overlooks her, careful not to let his eyes focus too long on her chest.

Lohan: Up here, Mark.

A worried Comeau instantly lifts his eyes back to her face.

Lohan: I’m not the type who gets angry…who allows things to get personal. Anger is an emotion….and emotions are weakness…I don’t let Silencer’s juvenile comments upset me. That attack you eluded to….was done on behalf of my friend, Taylor Chase. And what I do to Silencer tonight…the physical wreck I leave him in….will be done not because its personal…but because it’s what’s best for Tay-Tay.

Mark: Meaning?

Lohan: Jesus, do I have to be so blunt?

Mark: You’re speaking to wrestling fans here, Brittany, subtlety is wasted on them.

Lohan: Good point, Mark, and way to alienate the fan-base.

Mark: Like I give a shit.

Another swig from the flask represses any emotions Mark might be feeling at the moment.

Lohan: Silencer said it himself a few moments ago, he and the rest of those ‘Motherfuckers’ are out to ruin the biggest night in Taylor’s career….Well….

She reaches back and grabs the crowbar out of the locker behind her.

Lohan:…Cassidy and I….

Haze claps giddily.

Lohan: Are going to ensure that DOESN’T happen.

Mark: Well you two will pose a very formidable threat this evening, that’s for sure….BUT…in just a couple of weeks, Cassidy, you’ll be facing Porno Lad again…AND…the TCWC for the Tag Team Titles.

Haze: He-he-he…more opportunities for Porno Lad and I to get all frisky…Can’t wait.

Mark: But on that night you’ll have the chance to choose whomever you want to compete at your side for that Tag Team Championship match. Unfortunately for you though, that partner will not be Brittany Lohan, as she’s already scheduled for the High Stakes Tag….

A finger wedges to his lips, closing them shut.

Haze: You’re so adorable, Mark. You actually think I’m going to tell you who I’m teaming with at Upping the Ante?

A nod is employed as he’s unable to speak.

Haze: That’s not very fun…not fun at all! I think I’ll wait for the big reveal…what do you think Brittany?

Lohan: Sounds smart to me.

Haze: And what do you say to getting this cavalcade of carnage underway?

Lohan: You’re adoring fans await.

With crowbar in hand, Lohan gestures towards the exit but Haze is focused only on the locker.

Haze: Then let’s not keep them waiting.

A gleeful Haze states while turns to reveal the switchblade in her clutches. She seductively slides her finger over the tip of the blade before flipping it shut. Off she skips with weapon in hand, leaving Brittany behind to overlook Mark with repulsion. Once she finally departs Comeau turns to the camera and takes another swig.

Mark: Looks like I picked a bad night to try and cut back on hard liquors. But yeah…Lohan and Haze versus Porno Lad and Silencer…it’s next peoples. Things are about to get crrraaaaaazzzyyy.

STATIC

Apparently Comeau was right on in his speculation, because almost immediately the view changes to that same lady seated in a very poorly lit hall, in front of the wall sparse of decorations. This time she’s all hunched over, her well defined spinal cord jutting out from her midnight blue gown.

Tick-tock…tick-tock…tick-tock…IWC….is that you?

There are a barrage of flashes, intermittent cryptic images dispersed amongst shots of various IWC wrestlers, unfortunately one would require a slow motion button in order to see everything played in this viral video. Back to the figure, who turns her head ever so slightly, long bangs still hiding her face.

I finally came back for you, IWC….I‘m going to spill your blood like you did to me…so you‘ll never be the same again…

The long and knotted hair continues to hide her face even as she scuttles, still hunched over right into the camera.

Never be the same again…never be the same again…NEVER BE THE SAME AGAIN!!

A very sinister laugh emanates from the woman with finger tips nipping at the sides of her mouth hidden beneath the shaggy hair.

HA-HA-HA-HA-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock!

STATIC

Yet another weapon comes into view…and its in the wrong hands…the hands of Aaron Harrison. But this time the weapon isn’t a baseball bat, a steel pipe, a crowbar, a switchblade, or a lighter…it’s a Singapore Cane. Harrison tests its weight as he sits backstage in some undisclosed location, swinging the now infamous, by IWC standards at least, weapon from one side to the other.

Mika: Easy Cowboy…you might hurt yourself.

Kozlov steps in, oddly wearing a hockey mask over her face. It’s removed and tossed to the side as she wraps an arm around Harrison’s neck and then sits right on his knee, making herself comfortable.

Mika: Did you buy me a new toy?

The cane is taken and suggestively stroked by Kozlov’s palms.

Mika: And it’s not even made of leather.

Harrison: Nah…

He slowly works the cane back into his hand.

Harrison: I have a different recipient in mind for this gift.

Mika: Oh?

Harrison: We got a present for the heartless Black Crusade….we got something for the brainless Christian Savior…and now…this special present is intended for the cowardly Cruze.

The cane twirls around Aaron’s hand.

Harrison: Think he’ll like it?

Mika: I’m sure he’ll LOVE it, Cowboy.

There is something eerily familiar regarding this scene, with Mika seated on Harrison’s lap, playing with the Singapore Cane, the two conniving together as they hatch a plot that will surely lead to the ruination of the Icon.

Harrison: It’s sad really….?

Mika: What’s that, Cowboy?

Harrison: I take no pleasure in what must be done to Orlando. There’s just somethings you gotta do. Don’t mean you have to like it.

“Everybody” by the Backstreet Boys has the crowd reacting like they just devoured their body weight in sugar. Their response gets even more enthusiastic as the flesh and blood Porno Lad, who would like to see a bit more flesh from his female adorers, moves to the stage, lifts his fists into the air getting a rousing ovation and then rushes straight to the ring. After several crotch points with coinciding explosions of pyrotechnics, Porno Lad finally reaches the ring and prepares for yet another opportunity to get hands on the woman who dared to cut a lock of hair away from his fro, Cassidy Haze.

Dollar: I shudder to think of what Aaron Harrison is going to use that Singapore cane for.

Susie: I have a guess, but you always tell me it’s wrong…or perverted for some reason.

Dollar: I’m guessing it has something to do with sodomy?

Susie: You guessed correctly.

Dollar: Why am I not surprised? But someone who is all about the shock factor is the Mega-Face, Porno Lad. A man who has taken on the burden of SAVING the IWC sort of speak, by being the biggest face in the history of this federation.

Susie: He’s already got a huge head, so I guess his face should catch up with it. Seriously, his head is big enough for him to become the mascot for Jack in the Box.

Dollar: Well, TPKid didn’t do much to put down his ego, considering that he propositioned him backstage to become his tag team partner for that three way Tag Title bout at Upping the Ante. It’s just going to swell Porno Lad’s ego till it pops like a pimple. And Cassidy Haze, or Lohan, may use their weapons to pop that pimple.

As Porno Lad grab asses with the fans and would like to literally cop a feel on a couple of them…attention turns to the stage where Silencer is set to arrive.

GO AHEAD…

The voice of Cagero filters through the loud speakers, but the former World Champion has yet to make his arrival, the stage still darkened without a single spotlight to enhance Silencer’s arrival.

SILENCE ME

The lights come back up and reveal not the painted face of Silencer, but the make up smeared faces of Brittany Lohan and Cassidy Haze…CONFUSED make up smeared faces. The two are turning, looking up, down, all around to find Silencer, who is nowhere in sight…not over hill…not over dell…it appears he’s hit the dusty trail. Cassidy and Brittany are at a loss, finally turning with angst ridden expressions and simultaneously asking the same question…”where is he?” Nowhere…that’s where…as he’s delayed his arrival…and apparently for good reason…..considering these two psychopaths were waiting to get the drop on him, with their weapons of choice in clutches.

Dollar: It looks like Lohan and Haze were going to get the drop on Silencer, but he’s outwitted them on this occasion…he saw this ambush coming from a mile away.

Susie: Really? Did he use a viewfinder? Because whenever I use those things all I see are pictures of lions and other zoo animals…I love the monkeys.

The peril of bewilderment continues to plague Lohan and Haze until the Cartel-tron lights up and answers are at last provided by the very soul they were intent on torturing. Upon the screen resides the very painted face they wanted to turn a different shade, transforming it from white to red.

Silencer: Awww….I’m sorry…I didn’t go and spoil the surprise, did I?

He thumps his fist against his knee.

Silencer: I guess I’m just the perpetual spoilt sport, aren’t I?

Neither Haze nor Lohan respond very well to Silencer’s cynicism.

Silencer: I feel terrible. I feel the pain of a 15 year old girl penetrated for the first time. Here you two ladies obviously spent a grand total of about three minutes arranging this whole plot, and then I went and blew it like Haze has so many truckers since she turned eleven.

Cassidy runs her fingers up the knife, really wishing she was using it to slice Porno Lad’s throat.

Silencer: You two are probably so pissed off that I went and ruined your whole plot, that you probably don’t even want to see me out there tonight. So guess what? With the Motherfuckers in charge, we’re able to make a few tweaks. And the first tweak I’m going to make….is officially removing myself from this tag team bout…

The crowd expresses angst, for once being on the same page as Lohan and Haze, who really wanted to employ their weapons to cripple Silencer.

Silencer: But don’t worry IWC, and Porno Lad…I’ve got a replacement in mind…a HUGE replacement….a man who just like Porno Lad reeks of charisma, and is a great big bundle high octane energy.. And yeah, when he passes gas, it does smell like he’s been drinking pure octane. So Haze, Lohan, I’ll stay away so as not to further agitate you, AND to make sure I’m rested up enough to make Tay-Tay’s World Title coronation, truly special.

The deranged duo continues to glare up at the Cartel-Tron, barking insults at the smiling Silencer, who will rest easy in the confines of Orlando’s office while they’re forced to compete against some scrub. But they apparently set their expectations way to low, because Silencer raises the bar in a big way the moment his replacement’s entrance theme plays through the speakers.

BOB BOB BOB! BOB BOB BOB BOB! BOBBOBBOB! MNOOSE!

His illustrious voice rings through the arena, as the lights dim down slightly, as the Bob march starts to play throughout the arena.

Lohan and Haze look down in time to see Bob log rolling through the curtains, unleashing his primal battle-cry.

Bob: EEEEEE!!!

Neither lady responds in time to keep their legs from being cut out from under them. The two collapse to the stage while the fans leap out of their seats, unleashing a reaction of sheer elation.

Dollar: It’s Bob? Really?

Susie: YES! YEEESS!!! Holy shittters YES! The awesomeness is unleashed…Bob has just given me a raging boner even though I’ve never possessed a penis.

Dollar: Sure you’ve held more than your fair share. But this is…just…downright ridiculous. Silencer using his newfound powers…to put Bob in this match as his replacement, and he’s already taken out Lohan and Haze with that epic log roll.

Bob just gets to his elbows and knees while his opponents are dashing to their feet. They rise in time for Porno Lad to come scrambling up the ramp, stepping off of Bob’s back and launching himself leg and hip first right into his opposition. All three go down with Porno Lad collapsing on top.

Dollar: And now Porno Lad is joining in on the fracas.

Susie: Ewww…

Dollar: I said fracas dammit. You perverted minx.

The crowd is acting like they just witnessed a Superbowl game winning catch, rejoicing at the sight of Porno Lad and Bob giving Haze and Lohan their comeuppance. Bob stands up and soaks in the adulation, which is getting him oh so excited. That’s when Porno Lad swoops in, takes a rising Haze by the hair, predictably targeting Cassidy, and whips him towards Bob. This prompts the big man to turn, bending forward and launching his rear end into the air. Haze bounces off of it like it were a trampoline, being launched right back into Porno Lad’s clutches, who bends down, catches her knees to his shoulder and heaves him up into a big back drop.

From quite the height, Haze comes crashing down onto the steel plated barricade, wincing then reaching for her possibly bruised kidneys. Porno Lad then yelps and takes off as Lohan comes charging after him. Brittany is hot on Porno Lad’s heels, before he drops into a baseball slide between Bob’s legs and Lohan finds herself ALMOST rushing right into the raised rear end of the big man.

Her heart leaps into her throat once she realizes she was moments from being engulfed in the folds of Bob’s flabby bum.

Dollar: That was close…Bob and Porno Lad using the blubbery behemoth’s backside as a potent weapon thus far.

Susie: It’s like kryptonite, Johnny, no one knows how to counter the bum of steel.

Brittany suddenly raises her foot, wedges it to Bob’s bum and employs her uncanny strength to shove him forward right into a rising Porno Lad, the top of his head ramming right against his partner’s crotch. Porno Lad leaps back, grabbing at his crotch, unaware of the fate that is about to befall him. Lohan steps towards Haze, helps her to her feet, takes her wrist, whips her towards Bob, then watches as Cassidy leap frogs one opponent, using him almost as a pommel horse to launch herself into a hurricarana on Porno Lad.

Dollar: WHOOOA! An incredible move from Haze!

Susie: See, I told you, Bob is the ultimate weapon. But it’s so sad, everyone is just out to use him. He’s not just a piece of meat people, he’s more than just eye candy dammit.

Bob stands up and looks around, unsure what just happened but positive that he should react with a dance, which he does to the delight of the masses. He shakes his massive derriere before the good natured jelly roll ends when Lohan delivers a straight blow to his crotch from behind. Bob doubles over, grabbing at his genitals and unleashing an ‘EEEE.’ Brittany then steps to his side, grabs the tie that is somehow attached straight to his epidermis, then employs it to drag her towards the ring.

Bob does what he does best, roll, but not of his own accord, for it’s the Final Solution of pro-wrestling who puts him in the ring. Bob rolls to the center while Lohan shouts to her tag team partner, Haze still on the ramp stomping away at a traumatized Porno Lad. She only stops in order to snatch up the crowbar that her mentor dropped, tossing it down the ramp to Lohan, who catches it then swings it into the steel steps, leaving a dent.

Dollar: Brittany Lohan determined to use that crowbar on someone, and if it’s not Silencer…it’s gonna be Bob. Poor Bob, Silencer pretty much fed the gullible glutton to the wolves tonight.

Susie: Don’t you dare hit him with that crowbar, Lohan…don’t you dare! As if seeing that plushie suffer last week wasn’t traumatizing enough.

Dollar: We saw the destruction Lohan caused with that weapon last week…will she do even more damage to Bob utilizing it tonight?

With crowbar in hand Brittany descends upon her unsuspecting victim. She raises the crowbar into the air, acting in defiance of referee Stuart Wright’s many protests. But he has no authority at the moment considering the bell has yet to ring to officially start the match, giving Lohan full flexibility with the rules. With bar raised aloft, Brittany charges at Bob only to get greasy, ham smeared hands, wedged to her stomach, before being shoved backwards into the ropes.

Brittany bounces off the cables and comes back in at Bob, swinging the bar at his face only to have him duck the shot. He then steps behind Lohan and delivers a devastating open hand slap right on her bottom.

A stunned Lohan leaps forward, grabbing at her tuckus and looking as if her eyes are about to rip right out of their sockets. The malicious Brittany turns, and swings again at Bob’s face with the crowbar. He ducks a second time, steps behind his opponent and hits ANOTHER open hand slap on her rear-end.

Lohan: STOP IT!

The vengeful femme lifts the crowbar into the air one more time before Bob leaps forward and engulfs her with the many layers of his fat, hitting her with a splash. Bob steps back and is about to dance before it’s his eyes that go 3…no…4 dimensional…if there is such a thing. He looks in shock at Lohan, who was staggered, but not taken down by the splash.

Dollar: It didn’t work Bob, Brittany’s too tough.

Susie: It’s those big man shoulders I tell you. They should be counted as foreign objects as they give her a totally unfair advantage.

Bob continues to look stunned before he steps forward and gets a big boot right to the jaw, one delivered with such stiff force that it instantly takes his flabby frame down to the canvas.

Dollar: What a big boot square to the mush. Bob’s jaw absolutely fractur….wait a minute.

To everyone’s surprise, but Brittany’s more than anyone…she goes to pull back her foot she finds it trapped in the mouth of Bob. She keeps trying to wrench it free before glaring down into the big man’s face and hearing his disturbing comment.

Bob: Mmmm…ham!

Susie: OMG! Bob is trying to eat Brittany’s foot.

Dollar: Probably tastes pretty leathery.

It becomes apparent that there is only one way for Brittany to escape this predicament considering that she dropped her crowbar after being hit with the splash and is unable to reach it. Once she realizes it’s out of her grasp, she employs her hands instead to reach down to her boot, unlacing the straps and pulling her foot out of it. Bob then rolls around on the canvas, licking and chewing on the boot, looking as if the taste is giving him a euphoric feeling.

Haze then reaches under the ropes, grabs him by his leathery pantaloons and drags him to the outside of the ring. Bob is so distracted munching on the boot that he doesn’t even notice Cassidy pushing him along until his knees collide with the steel steps. The big man then goes crashing over them to the mats.

The bell finally chimes to officially get this match underway after Wright has tossed the crowbar to the outside and Porno Lad has slipped into the ring behind an unsuspecting Lohan.

Dollar: And the match JUST NOW getting started.

Susie: But Bob…but Bob can’t compete now…his wiggy could be injured.

Dollar: What in the hell is a wiggy? You know what, I don’t even want an answer to that question.

Porno Lad charges up behind Lohan, takes her around the waist and then tries to drop back into a German suplex. Unfortunately Brittany blocks it by taking off into the ropes, dragging the Original Prankster along behind her. Once her chest hits the turnbuckle, she wraps her arms around it, keeping from being dragged into the devastating suplex. But Porno Lad keeps his arms wrapped around her waist and now begins to smell her hair.

Porno Lad: Mmmm, you’re hair smells like ginger-blossoms.

A back elbow drills Porno Lad right in his teeth before he can continue delivering his observational pick-up lines. He goes staggering back while Haze slides into the ring behind him and nails a big dropkick between his shoulder blades. The force sends Porno Lad charging forward into Lohan, who steps forward in time to catch him coming in against her shoulder, before heaving her up into the air, twisting and driving him down to the canvas via a Double A style spine buster.

All the momentum has been taken instantly out of Porno Lad’s sails as he lays on the canvas, lower back arching from the canvas. But he hasn’t even begun to feel true misery, because Lohan is shouting instructions at Haze, who is eager to make her mentor happy. She rushes into the ropes, ricochets off, comes back in at Brittany and gets gorilla pressed into the air. Ultimately Haze comes crashing down with a big splash right on top of Porno Lad’s chest.

Dollar: The Tag Team experience of Lohan and Haze playing a pivotal role in their dominance here. Everyone knows my feelings on actual tag teams when it comes to facing singles competitors randomly thrown together.

Susie: If it doesn’t involve glitter, than I’m totally uninterested.

Bob is back to his knees and crawling towards his corner, climbing up and chewing on the tag rope like it were a piece of beef jerky. When Wright insists that he stop, Bob reaches over the cables, grabs him by the top of his head and delivers the dreaded Wiggy Twiggles. Wright eventually pries himself out of the noogie and reprimands Bob for his outlandish behavior.

Meanwhile, as the fun and games persist between Bob and the referee, Porno Lad suffers the two on one assault from his opponents.

Cassidy grabs Porno Lad’s ankle, lifts up on it and sends him rolling over backwards to his feet. She then grabs him by the wrist and whips him towards a waiting Lohan, who goes to catch him with another twisting spine buster.

In mid-air though, Porno Lad slips off of Brittany’s hands adjusts his body and lands on his feet right behind his opponent. He then pushes her right along into the inbound Haze, the two clocking heads against one another. The unintentional head-butt causes Lohan to look so disorderly she could probably be brought up on charges. She staggers back into the waiting arms of the Original Prankster, who catches her around the waist then snaps back into the German suplex, bridging into the pin.

Official Wright turns around just in time to see the pin, dropping into position to make the count.

1

2

It took a long time to hit the suplex but with little pay off, because Lohan kicks out a fraction of a second before the three and prevents a shocking win from Porno Lad and Bob.

Dollar: Wow was that ever close. I thought for a moment that Porno Lad legitimately had the match won for he and Bob, but it didn’t happen. Brittany still TOO powerful.

To the canvas Lohan twists as Wright steps into her partner’s face, insisting that Haze vacate the ring. She slowly backs into her corner and immediately cries out for her mentor to make the tag. Brittany is a bit shaken but still possesses the ability to crawl, which is exactly what she does, right into her corner where she slaps the hand of Haze.

Cassidy is so gunho that she leaps the ropes and goes charging right at the rising Porno Lad, only to be caught with a tilt a whirl right into the backbreaker across his raised knee.

He then bridges Haze back up to her feet and wraps an arm around her neck before snapping back into a downward spiral that plants her face hard against the canvas.

Dollar: Fluid combination by Porno Lad, who is actually the one providing the lion’s share of the work…wrestling wise for his team. Never though I’d hear those words coming out of my mouth.

Susie: Tag in Bob, Porno Lad, tag him in…there’s far more wiggy twiggling to be done.

Though he can make the attempt at a pin, Porno Lad opts instead to continue going at it on his own considering the unpredictable nature of his opponent. He turns the palm that was once outstretched to make a tag into a fist, swinging it into the rising Cassidy’s face. Another punch, and another punch is delivered, sending Haze stumbling back into the turnbuckle.

He then comes barreling in only to have his shin dropkicked and for him to take a header straight into the middle turnbuckle pad. His skull bounces back and his brain is rattled by the collision with the corner. This leaves him incapable of stopping Haze from making the tag to her partner. Brittany enters the ring behind Porno Lad and then half bare footed, steps to the middle of the squared circle where she’s taken by the wrist and whipped by Haze into a hip first splash against the back of her opponent’s head.

Porno Lad’s face is driven hard into the turnbuckle, leaving him clinging to the last vestige of consciousness as he turns and falls to his seat. With glassy eyes he looks at Haze bend forward, blowing a kiss to him.

Haze: Are you liking this, Lover!?! Getting steamy for you?

A downtrodden Porno Lad uses the ropes as the ultimate aid to reach his feet only to have Lohan step out of the corner, grab Cassidy by the wrist and whip her towards their common foe. Haze connects with a step up knee strike right on the jaw of Porno Lad, then drops down, hooks him around the neck and rushes out of the corner with a bulldog attempt. But in actuality she pulls up on Porno Lad’s hair so that his face is aimed forward instead of looking down, so that he can be charged right into the discus double axe handle smash from Lohan, that almost shatters his nose on impact.

Porno Lad flies back and flops on the ring while Lohan instructs her protégé to exit the ring. Cassidy takes a moment to give her rival a hair tussle before rolling to the outside of the ring, leaving the Prankster to the mercy of Lohan….to which she has none. Brittany grabs her adversary by the wrist, drags him up to his feet and then pulls him into a trachea crushing short arm clothesline. Porno Lad actually corkscrews through the air as a result of the blow, before ultimately tumbling to the canvas.

Lohan then makes another quick tag, keeping herself and Haze fresh as daisies. Into the ring Cassidy scrambles, rushing up behind Porno Lad, grabbing him by the hair, sitting him up and holding him in place. This puts him in perfect position for Brittany’s big Yakuza kick, nailing him right between the eyes with her bare-foot.

Dollar: And now that cranium crushing Yakuza kick hit on Porno Lad with enough force to possibly send his nose straight up into his brain….if he actually has one that is.

Susie: As much as I love Porno Lad, he should have made the tag to Bob when he had the chance.

Porno Lad goes down, but only so that Brittany can drop to his side and place him in a modified crossface. She lifts up on her opponent’s jaw, exposing his face to the sickening running basement dropkick delivered by Haze.

Dollar: Porno Lad just getting hit from every possible angle, by Haze and Lohan, who are really demonstrating that student, teacher relationship through their continuity.

Lohan finally makes her exit as Haze picks up the pieces…the fragmented pieces of Porno Lad, who is desperately trying to stand up. That’s when she swoops in and pulls one of his hands out from under him, but not to deliver an offensive move. Instead she puts one of his fingers into her mouth and actually sucks his finger in a provocative fashion. She then spit’s the finger out and delivers a twisting knee strike to the side of Porno Lad’s temple.

PL collapses to his back, looking absolutely spent at this point as Haze continues to kneel on the canvas, fanning herself off with her palms. She then leaps to her feet and rushes across the ring into the ropes, but when hits them, Bob delivers a big slap on her posterior. An outraged Haze spins around just as Bob grabs her wiggy and gives it the obligatory wiggle.

Susie: Another wiggy twiggled! Can I start a ‘this is awesome’ chant?

Dollar: If you do, I’m walking.

A desperate Haze at last pulls her head back out of Bob’s clutches and then delivers a slap of her own to the cheeks of her opponent…the cheeks on his face. Bob snaps his head back so that his eyes burn a hole into Cassidy.

Bob: You big MEAN!

He throws a wild punch at Cassidy but she steps back, avoiding it. He then throws another punch over the ropes but Cassidy rears back once again just in time to avoid the slug to her jaw. A laughing Cassidy actually sticks her jaw out, imploring Bob to try again, which he does…but misses the target. Haze then backs away still chuckling but is totally unaware that Porno Lad has recovered. Not until he wedges his hands to her back and shoves her right into Bob. Unexpectedly the two having a meeting of lips, Haze finding herself trapped in a kiss with the burly big man.

Susie: This is so damned hot. Bob should so work with Porno Lad to get into the porn industry. Can you imagine, Bob, the porn star?

Dollar: I really…really DON’T want to imagine that actually.

Cassidy finally fights Bob off, prying his lips off of her own. Rage burns in Haze’s eyes, as her face turns many different shades of red. Furiously she reaches out, grabbing a still traumatized Bob by the back of his head and pulling him forward into….another lip-lock. The crowd reacts in a wave of unanimous surprise at the sight of Bob being forced into a French kiss.

Dollar: I have never been more sick to my stomach…not even when I came down with food poisoning after eating tainted shrimp.

The molestation ends when Haze says it ends, finally pulling away from Bob, and leaving a big lip-stick mark behind across his mouth…but that’s not the only mark she leaves on the gelatinous gyrator. Haze steps back fanning herself off then, turns towards Porno Lad, who suddenly crawls through her legs and then reaches out and slaps the belly of Bob, tagging him in.

He steps over the ropes just as Haze turns around and finds herself once again face to face with the blob. The sight of the behemoth causes her to step back, palms outstretched before gesturing between their lips, reminding him of the passionate exchange the two just shared. She actually asks for a sequel, leaning forward and puckering up to draw the big man in….into her web….because hidden behind her back is the switchblade, which she slowly pops open and prepares to employ on the unsuspecting behemoth.

Susie: Don’t do it Bob…don’t do it.

Bob wipes his lips with the back of his arm and then leans forward to deliver the type of kiss that would make Hollywood film-makers truly jealous. Just before their lips interlock and Haze can use her favorite weapon to the destruction of the big bellied brawler, Bob unleashes a huge ham burp directly into Cassidy’s face. The overwhelming odor causes Haze’s knees to buckle, almost knocking her out the second she catches a whiff of it..

Susie: I don’t know if it was intentional, but that was awesome…A big burp that looks stronger than chloroform.

Dollar: That probably smells worse than a thousand Pepe Le Pews.

Haze goes from red to green, gasping and choking for air as she fans her face with both hands. The asphyxiation gives Bob just the opening he needs to rush forward into a big lariat that takes his opponent down. He then rushes into the ropes, ricochets off and dives forward into a huge butt first splash onto Cassidy’s chest.

Aid for Haze comes in the form of her partner, Lohan scrambling into the ring and charging right at the seated Bob. Before she can catch the big man with his guard down, Porno Lad re-enters the ring and catches her with a spinning back heel kick to the ribs. Lohan is doubled over and put in perfect position for Bob who jumps to his feet and then into the air with the butt check.

His cheeks nail the face of Lohan, causing her to stand up looking disorientated and turning into Porno Lad, who then delivers a step up enzugari to the back of her skull.

Somehow Lohan is still standing, albeit stumbling and staggering around as she tries to maintain her balance. She then turns into Bob who catches her by the creases of the knees, heaves her up over his back and ultimately drives her down into the canvas with the Mnooseville Slam. Bob’s rendition of the Alabama slam leaves Lohan sprawled out right next to Haze, mentor and pupil lying in equally as prone states. Bob and Porno Lad then exchange a glance and a nod before taking off into opposite ropes. Bob and Porno Lad do matching dances before simultaneously diving into stereo head butts to the chests of Lohan and Cassidy.

Susie: A double Dancing Wiggy Drop!! Okay…I can’t help it…THIS IS AWE…

Dollar: DON’T EVEN! Porno Lad and Bob taking control of this match and getting these fans so fired up in the process.

The crowd is indeed going absolutely nutters….everyone standing at attention and watching intently as Bob now rolls back and forth over both his victims. The sight of the Mnoose Sausage only gets the crowd to react even louder, realizing that the chubby, hairy goober could be on the verge of making either of his opponents tap out.

But before Bob can earn the submission, one of his rolls ends poorly, because Lohan catches him by the arm. She then lets Bob roll over to his stomach, laying stretched over Cassidy then steps over his back, wraps his biceps around his neck and applies the Painfully Perfect.

Dollar: Just when it looks like Bob is about to score the submission with the Mnoose Sausage, he rolls right into Lohan’s version of the Buffalo Sleeper….and oh look at this…

Cassidy reaches out, takes Bob around the back of the head and pulls him down into a modification of her Nyctophila. All those in the Manhattan Center react in shock at the sight of the Painfully Perfect and the Nyctophila being simultaneously locked in on Bob, who has absolutely no other recourse but to submit.

Dollar: This is…I’ve never seen anything like this before. Both of these ladies simultaneously applying their finishing submissions on Bob, really punishing the big man.

Susie: Hang in there Bob, fight this. Everyone get up and clap, show that you believe….that you believe in Bob.

One man who believes in Bob, is Porno Lad, and he can actually do something to help his partner. He steps in and delivers the Epic Fail square to the top of Lohan’s skull, forcing her to break the Painfully Perfect.

The spinning super kick knocks Lohan absolutely silly, and forces her to break the submission before twisting through the ropes and crashing to the outside of the ring.

Dollar: EPIC FAIL!

Susie: Lohan is out…This is their chance…this is their chance!

Porno Lad grabs one of Cassidy’s ankles and forces it away from Bob’s throat. Not only does he roll her over to her knees but steps behind her back and applies the tazzmission, his own signature submission. Bob, though suffering from severe air deprivation, stumbles towards his partner and opponent then bends forward to lift his bum right up in front of Haze’s face. Porno Lad leans forward, burying Haze’s face into the crack of Bob’s bum while keeping the tazzmission applied to a raucous reaction from the crowd.

Dollar: Good God this is absolutely TERRIBLE! I wouldn’t even wish this fate on Adolf Hitler. If Bob farts right now…God help us all.

Porno Lad cackles at the expense of his opponent, subjecting her to just the type of treatment she deserves. But Cassidy finds a way out of this by reaching her hand into the air and applying the crotch claw on Bob, who’s face twists into a look of pleasure, then one of pain.

Dollar: Another submission now applied, the crotch claw! But who’s gonna tap first? Bob, or Haze? Maybe neither one, because here comes Lohan.

To the shock of absolutely everyone, Lohan, who barely has a single remaining brain cell working after the Epic Fail, steps up behind Porno Lad and applies a dragon sleeper.

Dollar: And now just about everyone has a submission locked in. Bob smothering Haze’s face with his bum, Cassidy giving the crotch claw to Bob, Porno Lad applying the Tazzmission on Cassidy, and Lohan locking in the dragon sleeper on Porno Lad. I think I’ve got cross eyed. Who’s gonna tap…WHO?

Susie: What’s with this emphasis on tap? Is it too much to ask that they change it up with a little break dancing? Just a little?

Surprisingly everyone is hanging tough, fighting and resisting the urge for submission to the intrigue of the masses. But their attention deviates to the stage, where two individuals have emerged to get a close up of the action.

Dollar: As if this couldn’t possibly get anymore twisted, here come the Tag Team Champions, Bash Kincaid and Hugo Magnusson observing this action. Though I think it’s safe bet that their here to do a little more than just observe.

The two slowly encroach upon the ring, nearing the four athletes involved, two of which being the primary challengers for their straps at Upping the Ante. Porno Lad nor Cassidy are aware of the arrival of the team that has defeated them as a collective on two previous encounters, and now look to pulverize them outside of the standard tag team encounter.

Susie: I think you were right, Johnny.

Dollar: Reporting nothing new there. I think Hugo and Bash are here to soften up the competition after Porno Lad and Cassidy Haze have sufficiently softened one another up.

The TCWC continue on their way towards the ring, ready to inflict untold amounts of damage on their thorns in their sides. When it seems that this match is surely going to end in another disqualification, via interference and violence unleashed by Hugo and Bash, it’s Kincaid who finds himself subjected to some unexpected carnage. A steel chair slams into the upper back of the Tag Team Champion, putting Kincaid into a downward spiral and the fans into an uproar. The sight of TPKid standing behind the TCWC, with a dented chair in hand has everyone leaping to the high heavens and ultimately back down to earth.

Dollar: TPKid interfering and taking out Kincaid with the steel chair….He’s continuing to try and endear himself to Porno Lad…this time saving him from the Tag Team Champions.

Hugo wants to go after the Trailer Park Kid, but he’s held at bay by the chair wielding deviant. Magnusson stays out of range of a shot from the steel, then turns and assists Bash back to his feet so the two can overwhelm their assailant. TPKid slams the chair on the stage and backs up the ramp while Hugo and Kincaid follow, lured to the backstage area by design…TPKid keeping the TCWC from interfering in this match.

Dollar: Seriously? TPKid actually showing some intelligence? I didn’t think anyone with backwoods facial hair like that was capable of such a thing.

Susie: He needs mutton chops…serious mutton chops.

Hugo and Bash track their prey through the curtains to the backstage area, leaving the action in the ring to continue without incident…unless you consider Haze’s face buried in Bob’s backside to be an incident.

The weird, near pornographic way the four are intertwined at last ends when Porno Lad breaks his submission and pushes, back, shoving his opponent in reverse a few steps. He then drops to his knees as Lohan tries to keep the dragon sleeper applied, and snap mares her over his head. Brittany falls to the canvas while Haze stands up behind Bob, still locking in the crotch claw. Suddenly Bob pushes back with his seat, hitting Cassidy’s chest via his bum and knocking her backwards into her own tag team partner

Cassidy turns just in time to have Lohan drop to her back, wedge her feet to Haze’s stomach and monkey flip her right into Porno Lad. She crashes upside down into the Original Prankster’s chest, as both competitors collapse to the canvas as a result.

Dollar: Another amazing tag team move by Haze and Lohan. These two just know each other so well…and its not working out to the benefit of Porno Lad and Bob.

Just before Lohan can get back up, Bob leaps into the air and squashes her chest with the folds of his massive bottom. Brittany desperately kicks her legs as the official makes the count.

1

2

The crowd is absolutely amazed as Lohan sits up and forces Bob off of her into a sunset flip.

Dollar: How in the hell does Lohan have the strength to pull off that counter on the near 500 pound Bob?

The referee makes the count.

1

2

Bob gets a shoulder up and log rolls away from Lohan, who grabs at her possibly fractured sternum after having all the weight of Bob crashing down on top of it. She turns and shouts across the ring at Haze, who in spite of being shaken up by that last tag move, promptly responds by rolling to the outside and snatching up the crowbar dropped to the mats.

Dollar: The crowbar coming back into…wait….

The crowbar slides into the ring and within inches of Lohan’s hands when Porno Lad stomps down on the illegal weapon, then snatches it off the canvas. The referee is so busy checking on the condition of Silencer, that he doesn’t notice Porno Lad picking up the weapon and threatening to use it on Lohan.

But he stops, Porno Lad shaking his head and refusing to be so sinister as to use an illegal weapon…keep in mind…the man is the ultimate baby-face…the ULTIMATE baby-face…and baby-faces…they don’t blindside people with weapons…nuh-uh…no way.

Dollar: Come on Porno Lad, use the damn weapon you idiot…stop trying to be such a goodie two shoes.

Susie: And he is wearing two shoes too, so you’re right on the money.

Porno Lad turns and begins to throw aside the weapon when the referee turns and spots it in his palm. Brittany then goes limp as a noodle across the canvas, looking like she’s been knocked unconscious. The official jumps in Porno Lad’s face and points at the crowbar, which the Original Prankster drops behind his back plays innocent, implying that the referee was seeing things. But he will not be swayed, turning and calling for the bell under the false pretense that Porno Lad just bashed Lohan with the crowbar.

Dollar: Mind blowing stuff here. Porno Lad was trying to throw the crowbar out of the ring and do the right thing, then he gets spotted with it and Lohan employs her acting skills to make it look like she was bludgeoned with the weapon.

Susie: So wait…Porno Lad is being disqualified? No…no way…You NEVER disqualify you’re top face…NEVER!

Dollar: That’s EXACTLY what just happened. Porno Lad and Bob have been disqualified even though the Prankster never used the crowbar. Probably should of if he was going to be falsely convicted anyhow.

Susie: This is wrong…wrong on so many levels.

As Porno Lad argues with the official, he has no idea that Haze has slipped in behind him, is rushing in and delivering the Segregated Minds to the back of his head. Porno Lad is knocked forward into the ropes and sent spilling through them. Haze then watches with a twisted grin before she turns and gets caught by the creases of her knees. Bob hoists Cassidy into the air and then drives her down to the canvas with the Mnooseville Slam.

Dollar: The Mnooseville Slam by the Bobster! Getting some revenge for his team.

Porno Lad and Cassidy both now lay spent across the outside mats, the two athletes looking exhausted after absolutely brutalizing one another throughout the course of this tag team bout. This means that Bob and Lohan are the only two left in the ring, not a good thing for the ham aficionado. Bob stands up and lumbers around, his jelly rolls swinging from side to side and providing very little cushioning against the shot from the crowbar. A ripple effect cascades through Bob’s belly, reacting like a body of water with a stone tossed in the middle.

Dollar: Lohan has got that damned crowbar again and now she’s using it on Bob.

Susie: No Lohan, NO! Bad Brittany, BAD! Bob doesn’t deserve this.

Dollar: The man tried to eat her boot for crying out loud. Of course he’s got this coming.

The Mnooses adoring big man doubles over and exposes his back to a shot from the crowbar, bringing him down to his knees. Lohan then steps around behind his back, places the crowbar around his throat and pulls back, choking the life out of him. However, her eyes aren’t on the man she’s bludgeoning, but locked solely upon the Cartel-tron. It’s also where she directs her near methodical statements.

Lohan: SIILLLENCER! SILENCER!

Susie: She’s still calling out that mascara wearing man.

Dollar: Lohan promised before this match that she would keep Silencer from interfering in her employer’s, Taylor Chase’s, World Title celebration. She’s hell-bent on fulfilling her job functions.

Brittany continues to cry out for the shit-stirring Simon.

Lohan: Silencer! SILENCER! We have your Bob, Silencer. He still lives…

A look of annoyance transforms Brittany’s once calm and collective face, as she looks to mutilate Bob’s with the crowbar.

Lohan: Silencer, maybe you don’t hear so well.

The crowbar grinds viciously against Bob’s cheek.

Bob: EEEEEEE!

Bob’s squeal gets him boatloads of sympathy from the fans, imploring Brittany to let him go. She doesn’t give in to their pleas and instead wraps a hand around her victim’s lips, closing them tightly.

Lohan: Come out SILLLENCER!

Brittany was on the cusp of an actual grin before even the faintest hint of a smile vanishes at the sight of the last person she wanted to see stepping through the curtains.

Pearson: I’m afraid not, Mrs. Final Solution.

An overwhelmingly positive reaction is heard for one Kathryn Pearson, who in the span of just a few short weeks has instantly made a name for herself on the IWC landscape. She continues to generate buzz by audaciously interrupting the very lady she’s scheduled to team alongside of at Upping the Ante, in the process doing no favors in terms of building trust between the two.

Pearson: What’s the matter? Looks like you don’t want to see me…

Said suspicions are true. Lohan throws down Bob and points the crowbar straight at the woman who interfered in her plans last week to use Lukas Montgomery as ransom, and here she is, doing the exact same thing again.

Pearson: Why is that? I mean, we’re supposed to be girlfriends, right? Building some kind of bond as we prepare to team up at the pay-per-view. But by the look on your face, it seems that your…well…downright homicidal at the mere sight of me. That can’t be…I thought we had built some type of mutual understanding last week….Oh wait…no we didn’t…we didn’t at all…

Pearson is just as bold in her step as she is in her words, getting closer and closer to the ring, in spit eof the threatening presence of Lohan…and the crowbar in her hand makes her all that more menacing.

Pearson: Actually, as I can recall, last week you just kept getting in my way, impeding my plans. I haven’t been a professional wrestler for very long, but to me, that doesn’t sound like the basis for a very united tag team…now does it, Brittany?

Wisely she pauses at the edge of the ramp.

Pearson: If these issues between us continues, well, it can bring us down at Upping the Ante. We need to go into that match as a TEAM, not as enemies. If we want to take back our number one contenderships…the title shots that WE earned…then we’ve got to be cohesive. So instead of being at each other’s throats, I’ve found a solution for our problems….one that will help me overlook what you did last week when you came out, distracted me and allowed Nathan Creed to steal my captive, Lukas Montgomery, right out from under my nose when I had the Blacklist chomping at the bit to get him back.

It suddenly dawns on Brittany why her partner at Upping the Ante is being so bold…why is she being so long winded…why she is being such a ’distraction.’ When the realization sets in, it’s too late. Lohan turns around mere seconds after Silencer has jumped the barricade, grabbed Bob by his wrist and helped roll the big man out of the ring and out of harm’s way. He goes a step further by aiding Bob over the guardrail, the two taking off into the crowd. Brittany rushes at the ropes and reaches through them, but there’s no way she can get her fingers on the pair before they vanish amongst the crowd.

Dollar: Kathryn Pearson, she just distracted Brittany long enough for Silencer to save Bob. What the hell is she thinking? She’s just antagonizing the woman she’s gonna have to depend on at Upping the Ante.

Brittany’s vengeful eyes twist towards Kathryn, who is already back on the stage, on the verge of stepping through the curtains.

Pearson: Eye for an eye, Brittany…eye for an eye.

She waves goodbye to Lohan, who crosses her arms and just shakes her head in a very disappointed fashion.

Dollar: These two ladies may just kill each other before they even make it to Upping the Ante.

Susie: If they do, I call dibs on Kathryn Pearson’s halter tops.

Orlando: I really feel like an idiot right now…

In spite of this statement the Icon wears a smile…albeit an uneasy one as he stands in some tame backstage corridor, conversing with an off camera figment.

Orlando: Obviously you should have been the first person I came to. But I just thought extending the olive branch to Christian and Silencer, would make you happy…would be something you would want me to do. I…I just wanted to show you that I’m turning over a new leaf….that I’ve, you know, seen the light. It took a lot of pride swallowing in order to approach two of the men I despise more than the Board of Directors. That should show you how much I’ve changed…how much I’ve grown….how much I’ve evolved these past few weeks since you showed up and really knocked me over the head with a ten pound bag of ‘conscious.’ You’re like my Jimmy the Cricket…which is why I need you.

The mystery persists no longer, as the camera drawls back to finally reveal a perturbed Nathan Creed. All the tell0tale signs of annoyance are exuded by Creed’s body language, cross arms, twitching brow, and a hung over expression on his face.

Orlando: 3N…No Name Necessary…former Tag Team Champions…..back together one last time under the IWC umbrella. Can you imagine anything more epic than that? Anything more headline grabbing and ratings spiking? 3N…Nathan Creed, Orlando Cruze…united by a common goal…and all you have to do Nathan…is agree to….

Nathan: Stop…just stop.

But Orlando will not…he’s on a roll….meaning there’s no time for that whole ‘listening’ thing.

Orlando: Just take a second and think back…back on all the accomplishments…the accomplishments of Cruze and Creed. We took down the Conspiracy, we took down Dan Douglas, we took down the Alpha Generation, and if you just do this one last favor for me…we can continue to have so many accomplishments as a…

Nathan: SHUT IT!

The Icon snaps back both literally and figuratively.

Nathan: Listen, Orlando….Brother…I appreciate that you went to Silencer…that you went to Christian Savior…that took a lot of balls.

Orlando: They’re HUGE, Creed. Which is why I have such big ambitions. I think you‘ll really appreciate this offer I‘m giving you, one that will no doubt ensure we reunite and take back this company.

Nathan: You’re not listening to me, Orlando…big surprise there.

Orlando: I don’t think YOU’RE listening to ME, Creed.

Nathan: No, I’ve stood back and listened to you too damned long. I listened as you threw everyone on this roster under the bus, as you droned on and on and on about everyone being beneath you, about everyone being incapable of carrying the weight of this federation. If you’re so superior…prove it. Go out there next week, face Frankie…face Harrison…face them both on your own.

This is not going how Cruze has anticipated at all. He was sure, positively positive that Nathan would be the one to take him up on the offer…but Creed isn’t even willing to hear the sales pitch.

Orlando: Nathan….I….I need you.

Nathan: You need me? So is that why you left the ring and left me to get my ass kicked all over the Manhattan Center a few weeks ago? Is that why you didn’t come out there last week when the Blacklist was trying to get the unfair two on one advantage on me? Oh wait, I forgot you were too busy obsessing over getting back your World Heavyweight Championship to care what happened to your…brother.

Orlando: Okay, I’ve made some mistakes. But aren’t you supposed to be the bigger man? Aren’t you supposed to overlook my past transgressions and turn the other cheek?

Nathan: I’m fed up with overlooking your behavior…with forgiving and forgetting. We go through this same song and dance routine time and time again. You betray me, you turn your back on me, you spit in my face, and then I forgive you, come to your aid, we act like nothing ever happened. And as thus, you never learn your lesson, meaning we’re doomed to repeat the same pattern. That’s not the case this time, Bud. You’re not going to use me as a crutch, as a safety net. I’m not here to catch you every time you fall. I think if you hit the earth, it may actually snap some sense into that big head of yours.

Silencer: Hey, Box-Head, we’ve got a meeting…

Nathan turns and acknowledges Silencer poking his head out of the door now marked ‘Motherfuckers.’

Nathan: I’ve gotta go.

Orlando: Nathan, wait…we’ve gotta.

Creed yanks his shoulder away from Orlando’s hand as he walks into the office. A flabbergasted Cruze remains behind, throwing his arms into the air and letting them flop to his sides. It begins to dawn on him that he may be completely on his own…BUT…he’s certainly not alone at the moment, evident when he’s bumped from behind by Mr. Hush and Al. The two are obviously on their way to this secret pow-wow, but can’t get much further before Orlando grabs hold of Mr. Hush’s wrist.

Orlando: Hey…HEY! I need to talk to you.

Mr. Hush glances down at the hand then up into Orlando’s face, prompting him to detach his palm at once.

Al: MR. HUSH IS NOT THE TALKING TYPE! AND HE SEES YOU AS QUITE A CONNIVING KNAVE…PARDON MY LANGUAGE.

Orlando: Good lord, turn your decibel down a notch.

Orlando puts fingers in his ears to decrease the volume of Al’s explosive voice.

Orlando: Tell Mr. Hush that I need his help.

Al: PLEASE ALLOW ME TO CORRECT MYSELF, AS I’M SURE I MISPOKE. MR. HUSH CAN HEAR, HE JUST OPTS NOT TO SPEAK.

Orlando: I don’t care, use synthesizer tones and flashing lights, do whatever it takes to communicate with the man. I need his help, I need him to summon Legion for me.

There’s already a limo taking up a huge chunk of the parking lot, one belonging to Mr. D, but another car finds room…no…makes room. The obvious rent a car speeds into the lot and has to screech to a halt when a muddy St. Bernard darts in front of it, frothing at the mouth as it passes dangerously close to the vehicle. After the tires screech, bringing the car to an abrupt halt, the door pops open, and out steps….Jackson Adams?

Dollar: Adams? Jackson Adams? What…why….is HE here tonight?

Susie: Maybe he’s here to compete in the costume contest.

Dollar: What costume contest?

Susie: The one I just imagined.

Dollar: Well this isn’t imagined. Jackson Adams is here in the flesh, and we haven’t seen him since Awakening, where it was revealed by Desmond Drake that he was suffering from concussion related dementia. So why is he here tonight?

There is no baggage, at least not figuratively…The only baggage Adams brings with him is of the emotional variety, evident by the angst ridden expression on his face. He doesn’t seem happy to be here, but nevertheless he sets foot on IWC soil for the first time since the last pay-per-view. Through the doors storms Adams, undoubtedly ready to make a statement concerning his return to the IWC.

Mika: Honestly, we didn’t think you were capable of it, my Sweet.

Seated on a crate in the guerrilla position is Mika Kozlov, leaning back and examining the photos she’s taken with her I-Phone. She seems unhappy with one of the shots, prompting her to lift the phone into position and snap another photograph of the writhing Kathryn Pearson.

Mika: Going out there and standing toe to toe with Lohan. Many a braver individual than you would never even dare cross paths with Brittany, but since you did, that must mean your one tough cookie.

Kathryn tries, but fails, to pry her arm out of the clutches of Montgomery. It remains tightly pinned against the small of her back while she’s wedged cheek and chest first against the wall. Behind her back stands Montgomery, forcing her forward…forcing her against the wall so that she can’t budge, not even an inch.

Pearson: You two think you can intimidate me?

Mika: No way. How could two meek little individuals like ourselves possibly threaten someone who just stood up to the mighty Lohan? It be stupid of us to even try. I mean, how would we do it? By ambushing you right as you stepped through the curtains into the backstage area.

Lukas looks back at the curtains which are still swaying right after Pearson passed through them.

Mika: By having Lukas twist your arm until it almost snaps at the elbow?

Lukas wrenches up on the arm until he hears a slight squeal from Pearson.

Mika: By reminding you that you might not want to piss off your tag team partners tonight?

Montgomery: Hey, Katie…you might not want to upset the two of us…

Lukas pulls the hair off of her shoulder and away from her ear so she can hear him clearly.

Montgomery: We are your tag team partners tonight, after-all.

Mika: I mean…how would that sway you, considering you seem like the bold and courageous type that would take a loss on her record instead of going out there to team with the two of us.

Pearson: I’d rather taste my own vomit than team with you two. And Lukas, that better be a roll of quarters in your pocket, or so help me!

He pulls back on her jaw rather violently and draws his lips dangerously close to the lobe of her ear.

Montgomery: It is. I happen to be doing laundry later tonight.

Mika: Yep…seems to me that the Blacklist might be stepping into a 3 on 2 situation, or, as terrifying a thought as it may be, a 4 on 2, should you decide your time would be better spent teaming with the Crusade and Whitman, instead of aiding your helpless partners.

Pearson: If Lukas doesn’t take his God damn hands off of me, I’ll make sure he needs first AIDE by the end of the…

Another yank on her jaw and twisting of her arm, Lukas ensuring that she listens to every cynical word oozing from Kozlov’s smiling lips.

Mika: You’re just rebellious enough to do that too? Aren’t you, Katie? Aren’t you? If you could slap your own partner, Brittany, in the face last week by abducting Lukas…

Montgomery: Did it turn you on seeing me in bondage?

Mika: …when Lohan clearly had a plan for him as a hostage…then what’s stopping you from being such an instigator of mischief in our match tonight? Nothing seems to threaten you. Nothing seems to stop you from creating strife between yourself and your partners? Here the Blacklist is willing to overlook your abduction of Montgomery last week in order to get the job done, to take out all our common foes, and what do you do?

Pearson: You haven’t even begun to see what I’m going to do the two of you.

Mika: You just keep on stirring the pot…you just keep on trying to aggravate us…just like you did to Lohan a few moments ago…when you should be doing just the opposite…trying to find some common ground between us so that we’re all on the same page.

Pearson: We’ll never be on the same page.

Mila: Yep…there’s that rebellious…counter-productive Kathryn rearing her spunky little head again. You just proved my point.

Pearson: When that bell rings tonight, you won’t have to worry about the Black Crusade or Whitma….

Mika: Clearly this isn’t going to work, Lukas. The threat of physical violence doesn’t scare Kathryn. She proved that last week when she went toe to toe with Lohan. And she doesn’t respond to logic either. Instead of willingly working as a team this evening to take out Whitman, and help us send a message to Legion through torching his allies, here we stand, literally twisting her arm in a futile attempt to make her see the light.

To the side of Pearson, Mika steps, putting a forearm on the shoulder Lukas cleared of hair. She grabs a few strands herself, playing with them.

Mika: In what world are you living on, Pearson? You’re so naïve, you’re so gullible. You believed that David Helms really cared about you. You believed you would always be a part of your kid’s life. You believed that it be a smart idea to make enemies out of the Blacklist. And you believed we would actually team along such a little rebel.

The words end and gestures are instead employed, Mika nodding towards Lukas. Before Kathryn can react, she’s shoved with tremendous force shoulder first against the wall, possibly fracturing her clavicle and snapping the rotator cuff. Pearson collapses to the ground amidst screams of pain, anguish flowing down from her shoulder to her finger tips.

Lukas blows a kiss in her direction while Mika mimics the way that Kathryn waved goodbye to Lohan a few moments ago.

Mika: Maybe now you’ll learn to have a bit better control over your impulses…rookie.

Montgomery pantomimes a phone beside his ear, mouthing the words ‘call me.’ The only thing Kathryn needs to call is an ambulance, her shoulder in dire need of medical assistance.

A sigil continues to be drawn across the ground, Mr. Hush painstakingly putting his all into channeling his inner Bob Ross in order to complete his artistic rendering. Though, while Mr. Ross would employ a multitude of brushes varying in shape and size, Mr. Hush utilizes only a magic marker…working with the tools at his disposal. As if the task couldn’t be anymore difficult, the impatient tapping of Orlando’s foot against the floor, and the repeated groans only exacerbates Mr. Hush’s agitation.

Al: MR.HUSH WOULD LIKE FOR YOU TO REMEMBER WE’RE DOING THIS NOT OUT OF NECCESSITY, MY GOOD CHAP, BUT OUT OF PURE CURIOSITY. SO HE WOULD KINDLY REQUEST THAT YOU STOP BEING SUCH AN IMPETUOUS AND PEEVISH BORE.

Orlando ignores Al and continues to glare down at his watch.

Orlando: Is this going to take much longer. I have places I need to be?

Al: MAY I BE PERMITTED TO MAKE AN INQUIRY?

Orlando: Inquire away.

Says Orlando with a sigh and a rubbing of his temples.

Al: IT MIGHT BE PRESUMPTOUS OF ME TO MAKE ASSUMPTIONS REGARDING HOW THE SUPERLATIVE MR. GAUNT REACTS TO US AIDING YOU, BUT I’M GUESSING HE MIGHT BE IRKED. SO I THINK WE DESERVE TO KNOW WHY WE‘RE PLACING OURSELVES IN SUCH A CALAMITOUS POSITION.

Orlando: No…you DON’T deserve an answer. Not after everything you idiots have done to my good pal, Jacob Laymon, and the efforts you’ve went to in order to alienate my roster. But if it’ll help speed along the process, I’ll give the obligatory explanation. If I can show the Board of Directors that I’m capable of getting on the same page with the Black Crusade, by turning Legion into a corporate shill…

Al: A SHILL YOU SAY?

Orlando: Yes, by convincing him to take me up on my proposition for a match. Can you imagine it? The impact that would make on the Board of Directors? They would be bowled over to see that Cruze is capable of taking the most unruly of athletes, a man determined to create unrest in the IWC, and transforming him into a company man. The word monumental springs to mind.

Al: I LOATHE BEING PRESUMPTIOUS, BUT YOU MIGHT NOT GET VERY FAR IN THAT DEPARTMENT. WITHOUT MR. GAUNT, LEGION DOES NOT FAIR VERY WELL IN THE DECISION MAKING DEPARTMENT. AND MR. HUSH INFERS THAT YOUR PERHAPS…DESPERATE…THAT NO ONE ELSE WOULD BE YOUR PARTNER…AND LEGION IS A LAST ATTEMPT?

Orlando: Just get on with it.

He gestures to the sigil.

Al: FINE. BUT MR. HUSH WOULD LIKE TO REMIND YOU THAT HE’S NOT QUITE THE EXPERT WHEN IT COMES TO SUMMONING. HE’S ACTUALLY QUITE INEXPERIENCED IN THIS FIELD.

Orlando: Let’s just get this over with.

Al: I BELIEVE MR. HUSH IS READY.

Orlando: About time.

Al: MR. HUSH HAS RESPONDED WITH AN EXPLETIVE I CARE NOT TO REPEAT.

Mr. Hush, an obvious amateur when it comes to the art of conjuring, begins to wave his hands rhythmically over the emblem. The increasingly aggravated Icon glances down at his watch to see how much time has elapsed before seeing that the second and minute hands have stopped dead. Attention finally deviates from the watch to the lights, which begin to flicker and flash. Mr. Hush’s summoning spell seems to be creating quite a bit of havoc when it comes to everything electrical in the area. The lights finally shut off, and remain off for several seconds before slowly regaining their power.

Billy: Oh….oh yes….do it baby…curl that tail.

Is it Legion’s masked face that Orlando gazes upon….is it the N.H.B Champion who is caught under the ever watchful eyes of the Icon….is it the Anthropomorphic Personification of Hatred….No…but it’s definitely someone who is hated….someone who is loathed. Instead of clutching the N.H.B Championship…Billy Mayne has a Furry Fetish magazine stretched across his palms. Instead of being sat on a pile of bodies….Billy sits on a porcelain throne, his pants down around his ankles.

Billy: God I’d love to suck those whiskers.

Billy pulls the center-fold to his tongue and licks it all up and down. Once he reaches the edge of the magazine he opens his eyes and at last spots his captive audience. Mr. Hush is scratching at the back of his head, Al is gnawing at his nails, and Orlando is rolling his eyes.

Orlando: That is NOT Legion.

Al: WE WARNED YOU THAT MR. HUSH WAS NO EXPERT REGARDING THE BLACK-ARTS….THOUGH I’M SURE IF GIVEN ANOTHER OPPORTUNITY HE’LL…

Orlando: No…no…I’m far too busy to be playing around with the likes of the Black Crusade all night long. Thanks for this colossal waste of time.

From the room Cruze storms, leaving Billy and the toilet planted beneath him behind, as he nervously examines the faces of Al and Mr. Hush.

Billy: Please God tell me this is another dream…

He focuses entirely on Al.

Billy: Any minute now you’re going to turn into Mr. Peanut….

Hives begin to form on his skin.

Billy: Turn into Mr. Peanut damn you!

EARLIER THIS WEEK

P. Clarence Whitman III nervously overlooks an Applebee’s menu, but the last thing he wants to do right now is eat…considering his stomach is all a flutter in anticipation of his first date with Lois Prince. A handkerchief is extracted from her pocket and swiped across his sweaty brow before eyes nervously dart towards the waitress who passes by. He then digs into his pocket and removes a watch…yes…he actually has a gold plated pocket watch.

He then looks up from the watch and almost leaps out of his chair when he spots the woman seated across the table in front of him. How Silence got there without him noticing her arrival, is unfathomable for Whitman, but nevertheless, there a member of the Black Crusade now sits, staring over a table at Whitman.

Whitman: How…what…am I bladdered?

He closely studies the glass of water he just purchased to ensure there is not a drop of alcohol inside.

Silence: Georgie Porgie pudding pie

Kissed the girls and made them cry

When the boys came out to play

Georgie Porgie ran away

Whitman looks like a sufferer of PSTD, eyes wide, lower lip quivering, having several flashbacks to his numerous run ins with Mr. Hush over the past few weeks. Oh how he wishes there actually was alcohol mixed in with his water.

Whitman: What are you doing here? I’m on a date.

Silence: And the Black Crusade was informed of such.

Silence pretends that she’s examining the menu on the table before her.

Silence: I hear that the potato skins are really quite scrumptious.

Whitman: Would you kindly leave? Lois will be here any moment.

The menu is slapped to the table surface.

Silence: No need to be so uncivil, Clarence, you’re making a scene.

Of course Silence realizes that it’s her masked face and garish attire that is eliciting so many glances from the fellow Applebee’s patrons. Whitman isn’t glancing at anyone, not even Silence, the only thing he’s staring at are his palms, which hide his face.

To be continued

The World Heavyweight Championship shines in the clutches of Johnny Kingdom, who is captured in photograph form.

Frankie: Nice five o‘clock shadow bud? Can you grow ACTUAL facial hair?

The image is ripped in two and then tossed into the air. Another picture quickly takes its place, this one showcasing another former World Heavyweight Champion, AWOL.

Frankie: Have we ever had a World Champion who wasn’t bald?

This picture is crumbled up and tossed over the shoulder of Frankie Paradise, who sits in the studio chair from that same undisclosed location. From a small tray table he grabs another picture, turning the image to reveal the face of Christian Savior.

Frankie: Or one who doesn’t look like he just walked out of a friggin Charlene Harris novel?

The picture merely drops to the floor, Frankie showing no further interest in it, save for kicking it backwards under his chair. Yet another pic, this one featuring the painted mug of Silencer, shoulder draped with the World Championship.

Frankie: How about a champion with some class…with some honor…with some dignity?

A lighter is removed from Frankie’s pocket and held up to the corner of the picture, causing it to burst into flame. It’s dropped to the ground just as the flame nips at his fingers.

Frankie: Well….you do now…

The grin on his face is so sickening vomit wouldn’t be enough to quell the discomfort in the stomachs of the fans.

Frankie: You’ve got a champ with a terrific head of hair…a champion who looks like she just stepped out of the pages of Penthouse…a champion who could even grow facial hair if she wanted to, cause that’s just how awesome she is, she can do anything she sets her mind to…and a champion with some class to match that fantastic ass. Tay-Tay….Taylor Chase.

Frankie begins to snatch up all the photographs on the table beside him, featuring the many former World Champions in the IWC’s illustrious history. He stands up from the studio chair and throws all the pictures above his head, allowing them to disperse like confetti.

Frankie: Taylor…look at me….over here…

The braggadocios Paradise steps up onto the studio chair and extends his arms out to his sides as the litter of paper falls down around him.

Frankie: Look at this Taylor…it’s all for you…it’s all for you!

He falls off the chair after almost losing his footing, just barely catching himself before he hit’s the floor.

Frankie: Why? Because you earned it. You worked your whole career for this moment, and you shouldn’t let walking anal warts like Silencer, or Christian Savior, or Orlando Cruze, ruin this for you. This is your biggest moment…your DEFINING moment…your crowning achievement…though you probably wouldn’t wear a crown considering it might mess your hair…

The thought of Tay-Tay with a tangled fro annoys Paradise so.

Frankie: But nothing is going to mess this moment….because this is not just the crowning achiement of Tay-Tay…the biggest moment of Tay-Tay’s career…but what you’re about to see…what you’re all on the verge of witnessing…it’s the IWC’s crowning achievement…it’s the IWC’s biggest moment…for you at last are blessed with a World Champion, who’s has beautiful curves to go along with her beautiful mind. Ladies and gentlemen…I give to you….

He extends his palm towards the wall behind him.

Frankie: You’re NEW World Champion….TAYLOR CHASE!

There is a small pyro from the top of the wall as a long poster unravels like a scroll and extends from ceiling to floor, revealing an image of Taylor Chase holding up the World Heavyweight Championship.

Cameras suddenly turn to the entry way, where that same giant poster hangs from the Cartel-Tron to the stage, completely covering the entry way. After a few moments it rips right down the middle and through it steps the authentic..flesh and blood Taylor Chase. She steps forward with World Title held aloft, soaking in the reaction from the crowd…which isn’t very positive.

Dollar: And here it is…the moment we’ve all been waiting for Susie…

Susie: A Bob striptease?

Dollar: No, the arrival of the NEW World Heavyweight Champion…one we can FINALLY be proud of…Taylor Chase.

Susie: Oh…no striptease then?

Dollar: If we’re lucky.

“Boss’s Daughter” begins to pipe through the loud speakers as Taylor embarks towards the ring, ready for her first IWC World Heavyweight Title coronation….not that she thinks there will be many…as she has no intent on EVER losing the World Championship now that it’s finally in her grasp. Everything is in place to make this moment truly memorable, from the streamers wrapped around the ropes, to the presence of her father and sisters at ringside, Madison, Ashley Marie and the Brod giving her a standing ovation. Past them she struts in her lavish dress, and through the streamers she slides before finally ending up in the ring, where she once again raises the World Title belt between both hands. The moment the belt is elevated, pyrotechnics explode from the turnbuckles and the scaffolding…followed by confetti descending upon the ring and the crowd. Balloons actually tumble as well, being tossed around by some excited fans.

Dollar: What a moment this is is, Susie, bask in this…bask in this.

Susie: How come Rose Savior didn’t get a celebration like this?

Dollar: Maybe if she did a bit more to endear herself to the fans she would have got confetti, she would have got balloons, she would have got pyrotechnics…but instead all her attitude earned was the worst beat down of her entire life.

Taylor looks surprisingly stoic, yet still oozes arrogance and confidence as she twists in circles amongst the almost blinding array of confetti and balloons. At long last she’s forced to drop the World Championship, placing it on her shoulder so she can free up a hand to grab a microphone.

Tay-Tay: You didn’t believe in me, did you?

Her free hand caresses the Championship.

Tay-Tay: You never believed you would see this image, did you?

That caressing hand now carries the belt, extending it to her side.

Tay-Tay: You never believed that Taylor Chase, would stand in the center of an IWC ring, and declare herself the one TRUE World Heavyweight Champion, did you?

The reaction from the crowd is indicative of her suspicions.

Tay-Tay: Well…the proof…as they say…is in the pudding…or I guess as my Dad would put it…the proof is in his Pumpkin.

The Brod smiles with rosey red cheeks at ringside, actually blushing due to the overwhelming emotions he feels at that very moment.

Tay-Tay: Because I did believe…I did believe in myself…I did believe everyone would see this image…I did believe that I would stand in this ring and declare that I am the TRUE World Heavyweight CHAMPION!!…I DID IT! I DID IT!!!

The belt is repeatedly raised above her head to mass heckles and dejection from the crowd.

Tay-Tay: I DID IT! I DID IT!!

To the turnbuckle she dashes, kicking off her high heels in order to climb to the middle rope, where she twirls the championship like a helicopter propeller above her head.

Tay-Tay: I DID IT! I DID IT!!

To the outside Taylor rolls before slapping her palm on the surface of the announce table and dangling the World Championship in front of the faces of Dollar and Susie.

Tay-Tay: I DID IT! I DID IT!!

Around the ringside area Tay-Tay runs, swiping the World Title in front of all the faces of the fans in the front row. As she passes Madison, the two high five one another and then Tay-Tay rolls back in the ring where she continues to create a spectacle.

Tay-Tay: That’s right…suck it bitches.. Because Tay-Tay DID IT! She won the World Heavyweight Championship. She proved everyone wrong. Everyone who underestimated me. Everyone who thought I wasn’t World Champion material. Everyone who treated me like a joke. Everyone who walked all over me because they thought I was an ineffectual idiot who could never get the job done. Well now all those people who looked down their noses at me…All those people who thought I was a nothing…a non threat…there looking up at me…looking up at me as the World Heavyweight Champion…and dreaming they could be, Tay-Tay.

Dollar: Some nights I dream that I’m WITH Tay-Tay.

Tay-Tay: Fitting isn’t it? That everyone who thought they were better than me, now wants to be me? But they never will. Because there’s only one Taylor Chase, only one woman who can rise above all the obstacles, above all the naysayers, above all the hate to stand out here and proudly declare…I DID IT!!!

She leaps into the air and holds the World Heavyweight Championship above her head.

Tay-Tay: Do any of you…any of you honestly think you’d persevere through all the filth…all the garbage…all the crap that was thrown at them like I did? That any of you would have the courage…the passion…the determination to see it through…to obtain their career goal…even after being screwed over time and time again? Anyone else would have left this company. Would have gone off running and hiding if they were subjected to the persecution I’ve been subjected to. Just because I choose to let my heart guide me, it’s made me into a social pariah amongst the roster. You see it on Twitter every single day…idiots coming out of the woodworks in order to slander me…And then I come to work and get the same treatment in the locker-room…My peers steal my clothing…they make discouraging comments to my face and behind it…and they go out of their way to try and sabotage my career. And then I come to this ring, and I hear it from you, the fans. I hear you chant ‘slut.’ I hear you cheer when you see Rose Savior hit me in the head with a Singapore Cane. I hear you laugh when you see Bob running around in MY designer apparel. And I hear you support the likes of Silencer…Leeland Gaunt…Christian Savior…Disco Ninja…everyone who hates on me simply for being the better athlete…and because I choose to follow my heart.

She scowls at the fans, who cheer at the names she’s just mentioned, totally ignoring the statement she was TRYING to make.

Tay-Tay: No one would have stuck around and endured all of this….would have put up with such a hostile work-place, and with such hostile smart marks who desperately cling to what the IWC USED to be, instead of what it can be…and what it WILL be, now that Taylor Chase is the World Champion. Because unlike everyone of you…I endured…I endured everything…and now I’m a champion who is about to institute change around here.

The new World Champion paces amongst the confetti, kicking a few balloons out of her way.

Tay-Tay: The old days are in our past…the old IWC…it’s dead….it closed for a reason…because people were desperate for something different. I’m the embodiment of that change…of that evolution….

Katelyn: Blah…blah…BLAH!!

Dollar: Oh come on, let the woman have her moment.

To a huge ovation, Katelyn Buehler comes stepping through the curtains with microphone in hand and annoyed expression on her face.

Buehler: You want to talk about old? Well hearing you stand out here blabbering like a dumb bitch got real old…real fast.

The audacious Katelyn shows absolutely no fear…no trepidation whatsoever about climbing up the steps and to the apron, getting on eye level of with the menacing Tay-Tay. Chase keeps smiling in spite of the fact that her title coronation has been interrupted.

Dollar: Katelyn, the woman is set to challenge Tay-Tay for the World Championship in our main event this evening, is really doing herself no favors when that match rolls around.

Buehler winces as she bends down to slide through the ropes, still wearing all the war wounds of her highly physical match against Ducky from last week. Nevertheless, in spite of the bandages, and many internal injuries that plague her, Buehler steps right into the ring across from the Champion.

Buehler: You’ve only been World Champion for two weeks, and I’m already sick of you….you already bore me.

Tay-Tay rolls her eyes.

Buehler: You represent nothing new, Tay-Tay. I’ve been here throughout the years. I’ve seen people come out here and say the exact same things your saying…do the exact same dance your doing…and make the exact same promises they’re destined to never back up. I’ve seen people exploit the powers that be time after time to get what they want. If you really desired doing something different. You would have taken the proper route to the World Championship…the respectable route. You have worked for it. You would have put in the time…the effort…you would have scraped and clawed your way to the top like I’ve been doing for so many years now….

Tay-Tay: Years? Did I hear that correctly….YEARS!?!

The mic is lowered from Buehler’s lips, knowing exactly where this is going.

Tay-Tay: There’s the difference between you and I….one of many actually. While you’re content with sitting around and waiting to get your opportunity…I take it…I do whatever is necessary to take the championship….I’m not some bimbo who waits around till I’m collecting cobwebs in my panties, waiting for an opportunity to come my way. I have the ambition…I have the drive…to do whatever it takes….

Katelyn: Don’t you mean…do WHOMEVER it takes?

Tay-Tay’s eyes flutter as she TRIES to maintain her composure.

Katelyn: And you know what….Tay-Tay…maybe your right? Maybe I’ve been too complacent waiting around…waiting for my opportunity. But that was only because I was too afraid…too afraid to stand up and challenge for the Championship out of the fear that I’d end up looking like nothing more than a joke…That I’d end up only embarrassing Porno Lad and my whole family. But I’ve bided my time. I’ve worked my way up to the title match between us tonight…I’ve worked my way up to the moment, where I can proudly stand here and declare…I DID IT…I’ve beaten fear.

Suddenly Buehler dashes forward and crashes shoulder first into the ribs of Tay-Tay, taking her down with the spear to an explosive response from the crowd.

Dollar: Buehler is on top of Tay-Tay! And although this is how many of my sexual fantasies have played out in the past, they never started quite like this.

Susie: Katelyn has beaten her fear, and now she looks to beat the champ.

Straddling Tay-Tay’s chest, Buehler begins to lift up on her head, repeatedly ramming the back of it against the canvas again and again, possibly inflicting some brain-damage in the process. The Chase family does not like what they’re seeing from ringside.

Katelyn wraps her hands around the throat of a stunned World Champion, actually strangling her at this point. Finally Chase lifts a leg into the air, wedges it to the bicep of Katelyn and pushes her arm away. She then rolls over backwards to her feet and then rips away the bottom of her long evening gown, revealing that it was a rip away intended to do nothing more than hide the steel knee brace. She rushes straight at Buehler and leaps into the air for the TKO but Katelyn wisely moves out of the way, pushing her along into the ropes. Taylor’s knee hits the top rope, and she goes flipping over it as a result, landing on the apron knees first as a result.

Buehler then comes rushing in to get her hands on Tay-Tay, only to have Chase drop down out of the way, evading the attempted assault. Therefore Katelyn storms to the center of the ring in an absolute huff, snatching up the shoes Tay-Tay removed seconds ago, and pitching them to the outside of the ring right at their owner. Chase avoids them, swatting aside her high heels in order to grab something else, a microphone that has spilled to the mats.

Tay-Tay: You want to prove yourself, Buehler…you want to prove you have no fear…then you won’t be afraid to fight me right NOW for the World Championship. I say let’s not wait till later tonight, and let’s get this main event started!

A second isn’t even taken for Buehler to consider the offer, instantly nodding and then encouraging Chase to enter the ring. Buehler bends down, hands wedged to knees, eyes firmly locked on the Champion, who begins to approach the ring, ready for her first Championship defense.

Dollar: We’re getting it right here, right now, Susie. No more waiting. We’re about to see Taylor Chase versus Katelyn Buehler for the World heavyweight Championship….this is huge.

Tay-Tay climbs up onto the apron when a familiar voice screams through the PA system.

Silencer: Whoa…whoa…whoa…whoa…WHOA!

Much like Lohan and Haze, Tay-Tay becomes the second lady this evening to glare up at the Cartel-Tron at the smug expression on Silencer’s face.

Dollar: Oh lord. I guess Silencer is making good on his promise to make Taylor Chase’s night miserable.

A headshake is elicited from Chase at the sight of the grinning Cagero, knowing that absolutely no good can come of this.

Silencer: Yoo-hoo, Tay-Tay, did you think I‘d forget about you? Of course not.

Taylor does a full on sneer.

Silencer: Seems like you really want to go at it with Katelyn tonight, and far be it from me to deprive the fans some girl on girl hotness…BUT…there seems to be something missing from this whole equation. This match doesn’t look set. Let’s see, we have two opponents eager to face each other…we’ve got a time keeper…we’ve got a ring bell…we’ve got the smoken hot Susie at ringside, and the totally not, Johnny Dollar ready to TRY and provide some commentary. But what’s missing…what could it be…I can’t put my finger on it nor in it. Ah yes. That’s what it is…There’s no referee.

Dollar: Not again.

Silencer: And that referee is someone with experience keeping you in line, Tay-Tay…someone you’re quite familiar with.

The tunes provided by the Beejees immediately booms through the speakers and a disco ball lowers from the rafters, hanging above the ring. On cue That Disco Ninja rolls from under the ring and leaps to his feet, gyrating and dancing around in his referee jersey. Instead of hiding beneath the squared circle he now hops on top of it, where he is still dancing around in his striped shirt.

Dollar: Good lord no…just no…not that same disco dancing idiot who screwed Taylor out of the World Championship at Awakening.

Susie: As if I couldn’t be anymore excited with panties on…That Disco Ninja shows up to referee the match and keep Tay-Tay at bay-bay.

Dollar: This is a flagrant violation of the powers that Silencer and…OHHH!

As Disco is about to dance his way through the ropes, Brittany Lohan leaps over the barricade, rushes across the mats and slams her crowbar into the back of his knee. That Disco Ninja collapses ot his back then twists to the outside mats, immediately reaching for his leg, grabbing at the swelling mass with both hands.

Dollar: Lohan attacking out of nowhere and keeping That Disco Ninja from being able to referee this match presumably.

Susie: So I guess we won’t even get disco dancing then? We’re still stuck with tap?

Dollar: Brittany doing as she promised….watching Tay-Tay’s back…She was lying in wait…because I’m assuming that they saw this coming, in the same way Silencer knew that they were going to try and get the drop on him in our last match.

The injured knee is the least of Disco’s concerns, because Brittany is still standing over him intent on inflicting further damage. She nails him in the ribs with the crowbar, and then delivers another shot to the knee, wearing him out with her weapon. Tay-Tay watches this unfold with a grin on her face before winking in the direction of a nearby camera.

Tay-Tay: Sorry Silencer…sorry Blacklist…but it looks like WE‘RE the ones taking over tonight.

The repeated blows from the crowbar persist until Axl Evermore comes barreling down the ramp and around the ring, hell-bent and determined to aid his employee.

Dollar: Axl coming to the rescue of Disco…BUT WAIT!

Evermore doesn’t even make it all the way down the ramp before he’s clobbered to the back of the head by Gavin Taylor of all people.

Dollar: Gavin Taylor pouncing on Evermore before he could reach the ring, he’s mugging him.

Susie: But what else does Axl have left to steal? His briefcase was already taken from him last week by this very same guy.

Axl needs no reminding of what happened last week, the thought of Gavin employing Isaac Saine to beat him down so Taylor could abscond with the Evolution Championship is still fresh in his mind. That’s why Axl is already back on his feet and already fired up. Right and lefts connect to Gavin’s ribs, backing him up the ramp while Taylor clobbers him over the back via clubbing blows. The two twist their way towards the curtains while punishing one another. On the exterior of the ring another fight continues to wage on as That Disco Ninja tries to get back up only to be slammed to the top of the skull with the crowbar. Lohan then grabs him around his fractured skull, stands him up and throws him over the barricade into the crowd. She then follows after her mangled prey.

Dollar: Disco Ninja and Evermore taken out before they could play a role in this mach. And did I hear Tay-Tay correctly? Did she just say that she and her friends are taking over Riot!?!

Susie: I think she said something about break dancing…

Dollar: You have even more selective hearing than me.

Susie: I want more break-dance, and less tap. I still think Executioner could be a grand break dancer.

The only thing breaking right now are the spirits of the IWC fan base as their heroes are swept aside by Taylor Chase and all those in her collective. To make matters even more disheartening for the masses, referee Alex Ingelson has been plucked from the officiating staff by none other than Adam Chase, Tay-Tay’s uncle. He is dragged to the stage and then forced down the ramp with a good ole fashion kick to the backside to give him some momentum.

Dollar; And there will be no special referees this time…

Susie: Hey, that’s mean. Ingelson is very special. His skin is so pale he technically glows in the dark.

Dollar: I mean, there will be no Disco Ninja to interfere in the outcome of this match, Taylor Chase, Brittany Lohan and Gavin Taylor have just made sure of that. As the FAMILY takes control of Riot!, right out of the hands of the Motherfuckers.

Susie: He’s so pale that if he stood on a dark stretch of land planes might mistake him as runway lighting.

Dollar: Enough. This match is getting underway, and Tay-Tay has ensured that Silencer will not play a factor in its outcome…

Ingelson slides into the ring and motions for the bell while Adam Chase is making a different type of motion, giving his brother, the Brod, a thumbs up, which naturally is reciprocated.

Tay-Tay takes a moment to appreciate the brotherly bond between her uncle and father…but all that appreciation ends up very badly for the gorgeous World Champion. Her eyes were off the prize, allowing Buehler to come barreling across the ring and dive over the ropes intro a cross body. It connects with Chase’s chest, knocking both woman off the apron and down hard to the outside mats.

Dollar: Holy shits…What a way to start this World Title match!

Susie: Ingelson is so white he could be the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man’s British brother.

Just about everyone is on their feet, save of course for Champion and Challenger, who are both in the process of writhing across the mats. Surprisingly, a very fired up Buehler struggles to her feet, grabbing at her still banged up body. But her physical limitations will not hold her back, not when there is so much…so many high stakes on the line. She steps towards Tay-Tay, who has employed the apron to reach her feet, and delivers a knife edge chop across the chest.

Fans: WOOO!

Another chop nails Tay-Tay’s sternum.

Fans: WOOO!

Clearly the crowd is enjoying seeing Chase get what’s coming to her, especially after hearing her egotistical pre-match comments. Buehler at last takes her by the bangs, leads her around in a circle and then rolls her into the ring.

Dollar: Katelyn has been riding this emotional tidal wave since last week. I think we’ve never seen her this fired up.

Susie: I think Elmer’s Glue has more pigment than Ingelson.

Dollar: This is really starting to get lame.

Susie: But I have so many more.

Buehler climbs up onto the apron and begins to slide through the ropes towards the Champion still stretched across her back. She reaches through the cables to get hands around Tay-Tay’s throat when Chase lifts her feet, wedges them to Katelyn’s chest and pushes up with her legs. As a result of the forceful kick, the back of Katelyn’s head hit’s the top rope, causing significant whiplash. She then falls down, hanging ribs first over the middle rope while Tay-Tay bolts into the perpendicular cables. She springs off and then delivers a flip over neck breaker, pulling Buehler through the ropes and causing the back of her skull to hit the canvas rather forcefully.

Dollar: Sure, Katelyn has passion….sure she has fire….sure she has motivation. But that’ll get you nothing but a big bag of skittles when you’re facing someone who has the experience of Taylor Chase.

Katelyn isn’t even given a chance to fight her way up as Tay-Tay already has a handful of her hair and is using it to pluck the challenger to her feet. Holding Katelyn in place by her bangs, Taylor delivers one right hand after another to her forehead, Buehler becomes increasingly unstable, but remains upright just long enough for Taylor to spin around into a big discus punch that nails her opposition between the eyes. Buehler is staggered but not taken down, as it eventually takes a discus lariat from Tay-Tay to knock challenger to canvas.

Even though Katelyn is shaken up and banged up by these repeated blows, all of which targeting her head and neck, she starts to crawl in the direction of the cables. The ropes provide a prop to reach her knees just as Tay-Tay rushes in behind her, goes airborne and crashes down rump first across the back of her neck, driving Buehler’s throat into the middle cable. It snaps her throat back but Katelyn eventually remains straddling the middle cable jaw first.

Tay-Tay continues to take full umbrage with the rules, throwing her leg over the back of Katelyn’s head while pulling up on the middle rope, successfully choking the very life out of her amidst a five count from the official.

Predictably she breaks at four but only so that she can place both boots on the back of Buehler’s shoulders, and actually stand on top of her back this time, holding the top rope in order to provide proper balance and stability.

Dollar: Taylor is a true in ring general…her craftsmanship between those ropes is superb. She knows where she’s at…and what she’s doing at all times. And it’s that level of uncanny awareness that makes her such a threat.

Susie: I’d be more threatened by that human q-tip in the ring with her, Billy. If she stares too long at him she might end up suffering permanent retinal damage.

Another five count gets Chase to break another choke. She leaps off of Katelyn’s back, right over the top rope before landing on the apron.. She then dashes across it and delivers a swift kick to the temple of Buehler, knocking her off the middle rope and back into the ring.

Buehler rolls to the center and TRIES to stand up but doesn’t have much luck given the injuries she suffered last week, and the fast paced brutality she’s already endured throughout the course of this World Title bout. That brutality only gets worse as Tay-Tay descends upon her opponent, snatching hold of a handful of hair.

She yanks back on the locks and takes hold of Katelyn’s jaw, shouting into her ear at this point.

Tay-Tay: Seriously? You thought you were in my league? That I’d let someone like YOU take away what I had to suffer so much to….

A back elbow to the ribs finally shuts Tay-Tay up, doubling her over her traumatized mid-section. Katelyn goes a step further to close her mouth permanently, standing up and delivering a good old fashion, smash mouth upper cut. The strike connects and sends the World Champion into a spiral. But she twists out of the spiral right into a roaring elbow that misses its mark, Buehler ducking this time.

Tay-Tay then turns into another circle, only to be caught with a second uppercut to the jaw. This one sends spit flying and Tay-Tay into another spiral, turning into a boot to the ribs that doubles her over. Katelyn then takes her around the neck and rushes forward into the bulldog only to be shoved off mere seconds before Tay-Tay’s face could be imploded by canvas. The forward momentum causes an already unstable Buehler to lose her footing and go tumbling throat first into the middle rope.

She leans over it just as Tay-Tay comes barreling up behind her and leaps into the air, landing seat first across the back of….no…Buehler ducked down out of the way, causing Chase to go sailing right over top of her. The World Champion flies through the ropes and lands rather gracefully feet first across the outside mats.

Buehler then stands up and grabs the top rope, preparing to pull herself over into another cross body. She starts to leap only to grimace in pain, grabbing at her mid-section as she finally feels the pain of the violence inflicted upon her by Ducky last week.

Tay-Tay reacts quickly, grabbing Buehler by the ankles and yanking her feet out from under her. The World Champion then drags her by the legs under the ropes and out of the ring. Buehler lands, less than gracefully on the mats, and then receives a knife edge chop across the chest. It seems that Challenger and Champion are re-enacting what unfolded mere moments ago, but now with roles reversed, as Buehler finds herself subjected to the knife edge chops while propped against the apron.

Dollar: How does it feel Buehler? How does it feel to get your comeuppance?

Susie: Ewww.

Dollar: I shudder to think what you THOUGHT I just said.

Another knife edge chop cracks across Katelyn’s chest and almost buckles her knees. Tay-Tay takes Katelyn by the wrist and whips her straight into the barricade. Buehler’s ribcage slams violently into the barrier, arm falling over it as the only means of propping up her body.

The World Champion yawns before charging at Buehler and throwing a lariat that Katelyn ducks before rushing at the ring and sliding in under the ropes. Chase spins around just as Katelyn leaps over the ropes and crashes down right on top of her with a big cross body that gets the crowd blowing their wads in response.

Dollar: Well that’s surprising.

Susie: The fact that you don’t have to wear sunglasses around Ingelson?

Dollar: The fact that Buehler gets in any offense whatsoever against our World Champion. Though I guess she did prove something last week in that absolute blood-letting against Ducky.

Susie: Yeah, but I don’t know, she’s just not as fiery as we saw last week. Intense yes, but not as fiery.

Champion and Challenger are suffering the ill-effects of that last dive, but the champion is surprisingly the first to begin moving. She gets up when Katelyn charges in, wedges a shoulder to her ribs, and charges her back first into the steel steps. Tay-Tay’s spine hits the stairs with the force of a baseball bat swung into her kidneys. She reaches for her lower back as Katelyn comes barreling in to take her out with another shoulder to the ribs, but this time Chase side-steps her, throwing her along into the steel.

But Katelyn alters Tay-Tay’s plan by leaping into the air, landing on top of the steel steps then quickly leaping off and twisting in mid-air. The World Champion is caught with the Lou Thez Press, which Katelyn manages to botch…her forearm twisting as it collides with the mats.

A grimace forms on her face as she grabs at her elbow and wrist…but she at last blocks the pain and begins to deliver left after left to the face of Chase, now that her right has been rendered useless by that bad landing. The fans cheer over each and every blow that connects between Tay-Tay’s eyes, relishing the punishment she’s receiving.

The fists continue to fly until they almost drawl blood from beneath the surface, but Katelyn stops in order to break the official’s ten count. She then rolls back to the apron, shaking off her arm and getting ready to go airborne. Her patience pays off as Tay-Tay gets to her feet and then looks up as Katelyn dashes across the apron and is about to take flight only to trip herself up, She falls face first into the apron and then grabs at the ropes, keeping herself from plummeting down to the mats.

Dollar: Buehler with another botch….she just landed square on her face. But it looks like she’s had a lot of nasty landings on that face already. She didn’t botch a single move last week did she?

Susie: You’re asking me this? You do realize they just added Robsessed: Life of Robert Pattinson to Netflix right? I was literally glued to that all last week and just gave the occasionally pat response.

Buehler drags herself back up to her feet, albeit bent over when Tay-Tay leaps to the apron in front of her and jumps into the air, catching the neck of the challenger and dragging her skull down into a DDT. Katelyn’s skull is possibly cracked by the collision with the apron and the fissure that was opened in her scalp last week against Ducky is now oozing blood once again.

Dollar; And she’s bleeding…AGAIN…I thought that only happened once a month.

Buehler rolls back into the ring with blood dribbling down her forehead while Taylor climbs to the apron and then steps across it to the turnbuckle, scaling slowly to the top rope. A rare sight is witnessed as Chase takes to the air, nailing the flying elbow drop right to the forehead of Buehler, further lacerating her.

Dollar: And for the first time since she’s joined our illustrious roster, Taylor Chase has gone high risk….paying off with the retention of her championship.

Chase rises to her knees and begins to swipe the blood from the point of her elbow, flicking it towards Buehler, returning it to sender. She then non-chalantly falls into the cover, hooking the creases of Katelyn’s knees.

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To Taylor’s annoyance, Katelyn kicks out, launching a shoulder from the canvas.

Dollar: Buehler evading another pinfall. But she just doesn’t have the same spunk she did last week.

Buehler agonizingly gets to her elbows and knees when Tay-Tay steps in, wraps an arm around Katelyn’s waist, forcing her back up to her feet and then flipping her over into the Honesty Plex.

It looks like Katelyn just starred in a David Cronenberg film, with so much gratuitous volumes of blood cascading down her face. Like a shark, Tay-Tay is lured in, playfully nudging Katelyn over to her back and then placing a knee on top of her chest, using it to wedge her down to the canvas.

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Another kick out by Buehler results in a massive pop from the crowd.

Dollar: How much blood is Katelyn willing to loose, and how much punishment is she willing to take?

Susie: There’s a big gold sparkly on the line, Johnny…you fight your body, heart and soul out of the biggest of big sparklies.

With a roll of her eyes, Tay-Tay rolls the body of Buehler to her knees, drags her head under her posterior, and then throws her arms out to her sides. In the process she shakes her head and throws in a few derogatory slaps over the lower back of her opponent turned prey.

Tay-Tay: Did you really think she could be me? That she could rise above the obstacles? You’re wrong, so wrong. Time to prove it.

Tay-Tay raises Katelyn into the air, holds her upside down and then drops to her seat, connecting with the pulling piledriver. Buehler is put down right on top of her head and then collapses to the canvas like a totally limp noodle. Halloween has truly started early, because Buehler’s face is covered by a mask…a mask of blood.

Taylor swipes the crimson off her knees and then crawls into the cover, hooking a leg this time, perhaps taking Buehler a bit more seriously.

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Tay-Tay wonders if its some kind of practical joke when Ingelson informs her that the Challenger kicked out.

If it is a joke, Tay-Tay isn’t laughing, and the fans find it even less funny when Chase plays the part of killjoy, grabbing the blood soaked locks of her opposition and pulls her head under her seat. With another sigh Tay-Tay hoists Buehler up and drops her square on top of her skull with another pulling piledriver.

Dollar: Two piledrivers SPIKING Buehler right on top of her head. This girl is a lot tougher to put away than Chase thought she’d be.

The totally busted and bludgeoned Buehler lies on the canvas, totally motionless, totally void of any semblance of consciousness. Chase just wants this to be over at this point, evident as she actually hooks BOTH legs this time.

Dollar: Don’t kick out Buehler…don’t kick out…It’s become apparent that Porno Lad was right when he tried to dissuade Katelyn not to participate in this match before it got started.

Susie: I love Porno Lad, almost as much as I love beanie babies, but nobody could ever dissuade me from participating in a match with a big shinny on the line. The big shiny is the ultimate motivator.

Dollar: You know what, Susie, add the word ‘shiny’ to the banned list, right alongside Glitter, and Santa With Muscles.

Susie: Don’t stifle me!

Blood stains are left on the canvas where Buehler’s head was just planted, and now she is left with batting eyes, looking up into the spotlights shining down and enhancing her crimson smeared skull. There seems to be nothing left for her to do regarding the pending failure to capture the World Championship,

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The joke must have been one in really poor taste…or really too soon….because Tay-Tay wears the type of frown that would lead one to believe that she just saw a thousand puppies being ritualistically slaughtered. And now Katelyn is about to ACTUALLY be slaughtered, as Tay-Tay drags her around to her knees and props her blood soaked face up by the jaw.

Dollar: I suppose I’ve GOT to give props to Buehler…her threshold for pain and resiliency have been amazing in this match, and last week. But yeah…don’t think she’ll have a very long career at this point.

Susie: It might not be long, but it will be glorious if she wins tonight.

A victory would be a miracle, considering it be win enough for Katelyn to just be able to walk away from this match after all is said and done. Her persistence is only aggravating Chase, who drags her blood saturated opponent along to her knees and drags her head into position for a third and decisive pulling piledriver, one that would leave Buehler incapable of drawing breathes…let alone kicking out.

She just starts to drag the head between her legs when Katelyn goes crawling right through, ending up behind her opponent. Chase looks surprised, and is even more stunned when she spins around and finds the top of Katelyn’s head driven directly into her stomach, doubling her over. She grabs at her mid-section and grimaces from the trauma before stepping right back in, this time receiving a forearm to the ribs, knocking her back a few paces.

She fights through the pain and rushes at Buehler, who suddenly stands up and delivers another forearm, this time on the jaw. Tay-Tay is shaken, but not taken down. She catches herself and then charges forward into a shot of her own, that is blocked and countered with yet another forearm from the bloodied Buehler.

Dollar: Are you kidding me? Katelyn is actually fighting back? At last we’re starting to see the same intensity from her tonight, as we did in that drag out brawl with Ducky last week.

Susie: Look at her, the only thing white on her face are her eyes, and they’re just as bright as Ingelson’s skin.

Tay-Tay refuses to believe that this is happening, stepping in to deliver an attempted blow only to have her fist blocked a second time. Buehler then grabs Chase around the back of the head, holding her in place so that she can deliver forearm after forearm after forearm after forearm. The crowd loses count of how many forearms have just connected and continue to connect against the skull of the World Champion. Chase’s legs begins to cut out from under her, yet Katelyn holds her up so that she can subject her to another devastating forearm right to the cheek and the temple.

Buehler then follows this up by rushing forward into yet another forearm, but Tay-Tay ducks at the last second. The forearm goes right over her head and Chase takes off into the ropes behind her opponent. The cables give Chase some momentum, carrying her forward right into a diving forearm smash from Buehler that has the crowd reacting in total shock.

Dollar: Katelyn NAILING a forearm strike right bwteeen Tay-Tay’s eyes…though I wonder if she would have delivered that move with a bit more brutality if she were capable of using her right arm at the moment.

Susie: She’s got the Champ down…Tay-Tay is down and Katelyn could be closing in on her dream.

With fluttering eyes Chase clings to consciousness, trying to will her way back to her feet…but surprisingly Buehler is already getting up in spite of so much blood-loss. She TRIES to nip up to her feet but can’t quite pull it off with the razzle-dazzle of the Heartbreak Kid, instead her knees buckle and she falls on her butt. Quickly thereafter, Katelyn employs her one good arm, the right still feeling the ill effects of that botched Lou Thez Press. She stomps her foot and points down at the still kneeling Chase, perhaps signaling for her own version of the Epic Fail.

Dollar: This really cannot be happening…tell me we’re not actually about to see Katelyn become World Heavyweight Champion. I’ll throw myself off the top of the highest building if that happens.

Susie: I think the Empire State building is pretty high. I know I always got a nose bleed when I venture to the top of it.

Dollar: Okay…maybe I’ll start a little smaller. I’ll throw myself off the announce table, how’s that? Bottom dollar is this…I’ll lose it should Buehler actually pull this off.

Buehler is unleashing a primal, fierce roar through the blood that cascades down her face as she backs into one of the turnbuckles and stomps her foot. Hype is generated, every fan standing up and rallying behind the Challenger, realizing that she is on the cusp of closing in on the biggest achievement of her career….of her life.

Dollar: I’m not seeing this…I’m not…I’m totally going to live in denial if that’s what it takes.

Susie: Come on Katelyn….hit it….hit it!! Deliver the Epic Fail already…COME ON!

Pain addles Buehler, and blood loss is taking its toll, but Katelyn is rising above all of it, fighting through it all in order to deliver the very finishing move than won her man, Porno Lad, the World Heavyweight Title. The zombified Buehler cries out, insisting that Tay-Tay get up, which is exactly what Chase is doing. She stands up, stooped forward and looking glassy eyed before Buehler steps in and begins to nail the spinning super kick only for her heel to slip, ultimately losing her footing and putting her down mto the canvas across her knees.

Dollar: She just botched AGAIN…she looked like she was going to….AHHHH!

Dollar’s change in tone is in response to Tay-Tay capitalizing on her opponent’s slip, darting forward and leaping into the TKO, her steel knee brace slamming directly into Buehler’s bloodied temple.

Dollar: The TKO! The TKO DRILLIN’ Buehler right in the temple.

Susie: Noooo…she was so close…Katelyn almost hit the Epic Fail.

Dollar: But she botched it to devastating results.

Buehler flies back off of her knees and lays comatose on the canvas as Tay-Tay scrambles into the cover. The World Champion again hooks both legs, pulling up on them and in the process turning so that she can wedge a forearm against Katelyn’s blood smeared brow.

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Dollar: Is it enough…Is the TKO enough to put Buehler away?

In spite of all the begging, in spite of all the pleading, Katelyn just doesn’t have it in her to kick out of the TKO, the shot from the steel plated knee brace of Chase was at last too much for her to come back from, evident as Ingelson’s hand comes down for the third and decisive slap of the canvas.

Dollar: Oh lord…oh God…oh Jesus ‘Tap’….

Susie: Tap?

Dollar: Fine…Jesus ‘Break Dancing’ Christ…

Susie: Better.

Dollar; Taylor Chase with her first successful defense of the World Heavyweight Championship…but by God did she have to work for it. Because Katelyn just wouldn’t stay down.

Susie: She was like a zombie…only a really cute one.

Though Buehler kicked out again and again and again, to the point where it seemed nothing would douse the flames of her passion for capturing the World Heavyweight Championship, she was eventually undone by yet another botch, which led to the cranium crushing TKO…a TKO that led to this moment, Taylor standing triumphantly above her body…but NOT with the World Championship in hand.

Though Chase should have her just deserved spotlight after an intense World Title bout, all eyes are instead focused on the exterior of the ring, where the World Championship belt has been torn right out of the clutches of the time keeper and is being held by none other than the Icon.

Dollar: Taylor Chase reaching another career milestone here tonight as she retains the World Heavyweight Title over this incredibly tough Katelyn Buehler….But in the end….wait…what the hell are you doing here Cruze? And what are you doing with the World Championship!?!

Susie: He just can’t let it go. Just like I can’t let go Ducktales…it should still be on the air fuck-dammit.

The World Championship is thrown over…not Tay-Tay’s shoulder, but the Icon’s. It takes a few moments for Chase to come to the realization that its not just her thunder that’s being stolen, it’s the World Heavyweight Championship.. Focus is removed from her celebration, from the smiling faces of her family at ringside, and instead transition to Orlando darting around the ring and up the ramp with the World Title in his possession.

Dollar: This self obsessed son of a bitch is taking off with Taylor’s title! Can’t you let anyone…even the apparent love of your life have but a moment of recognition?

Susie: But that belt is so precious…it’s all symbolic and stuff…sure it does much more than just hold up your pants.

Though he should just keep on walking Orlando can’t help himself, he turns around and directs his statements to an equal parts confused and enraged Tay-Tay.

Orlando: I HAVE to do this, Tay-Tay…I HAVE to.

At last he vanishes through the curtains with Chase shouting at him from the ring.

Tay-Tay: What are you thinking, you BASTARD! Bring it back….bring back my title!!

Dollar: Again Orlando is stealing the World Heavyweight Championship! He just won’t let anyone have a moment in the spotlight.

Susie: Isn’t he slated to face Tay-Tay for the title at Upping the Ante? Wasn’t he tricked into signing a contract to face her for the belt? Maybe he’s just trying to protect Tay-Tay by making sure she’s not the champion, and as thus making sure they WON’T be facing each other come time for the pay-per-view.

Dollar: That was quite astute of you.

Susie: Thanks, I brought my spark notes this evening.

Tay-Tay is so angry her ears are actually popping from the pressure inside of her head. Her teeth mash against one another, threatening to send sparks flying through the air as they grate. A bloodied Katelyn is equally as upset…but not with the Icon…with herself. She turns onto her side, swiping blood from her forehead and realizing she just spilt buckets of it, on top of putting her body through a physical ringer, and ultimately has nothing to show for her troubles.

Katelyn is so consumed with her failure, that she doesn’t even notice the Brod sliding into the ring and stepping up behind Taylor, joining in on her verbal tirade. He kicks the bottom rope, looking even more irate than his own daughter.

Dollar: Just when I thought this show couldn’t get anymore TWISTED, here we see Orlando Cruze just absconding with the World Heavyweight Championship AGAIN! This is sooo not winning him any brownie points with Taylor Chase.

Susie: Brownie points? Are those the same as brownie bites? Neither of which I’m allowed to eat since it’ll go straight to my cheeks, the ones on my face and on my bum.

The fans may be intrigued, but Taylor Chase and the Brod are enraged as the feed transitions into another video, highlighting another romantic turmoil.

EARLIER THIS WEEK

Try as he may to play nicey nice, to act as if there’s absolutely nothing amiss, P Clarence Whitman III is not a thespian plucked from Shakespearian times. He cannot hide his displeasure and dismay over his dinner guest of the evening, Silence, who is in the process of studying the potato skin in her palm. She takes a butter knife, scooping out the interior to the plate below.

Whitman: I’ll implore you one last time to PLEASE leave…My date is going to be here any moment.

Silence: Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater

Had a wife but couldn’t keep her

He put her in a pumpkin shell and there he kept her very well

Clarence smiles and waves towards all the intrigued onlookers, trying to convince them all is well. He then turns to Silence and speaks to her in a harsh tone.

Whitman: I may have a very strong moral stance against putting my hands on women…but I might just make an exception in your case if you don’t kindly take your leave at the moment. If my potential lady love were to see me consorting with you…

Silence: That will not happen, Percy…so rest easy.

She lifts a piece of the bacon scraped off the potato skin and gives it a whiff, before opting, and opting wisely not to taste it. But Whitman does chew on something…the confusing statement he just heard from Silence.

Whitman: Meaning what exactly? Or do you only speak in nursery rhymes and vague insinuations?

Silence: To be blunt, Percy, I’M your date this evening.

He almost chokes on the drink of water he was taking at the moment.

Whitman: Pardon?

Questions the good natured British import in between numerous coughs as he tries to get the water out of the wrong pipe.

Silence: You should be getting a phone call in just a few moments informing you that Mrs. Prince will be unable to attend this romantic gathering, which happens after one partakes in a glass of tea Mr. Hush took the liberty of spicing through Exlax.

More choking…water actually flying out of Whitman’s nostrils. Taking a drink to help soothe his esophagus was a very…..very bad idea.

Whitman: He WHAT!?!

Silence: We wanted to ensure some one on one time between the two of us.

Whitman: For…for what possible gain?

He questions between drying his mustache.

Whitman: I have you know I’m far more than just a piece of eye candy you can turn into an all day sucker…or what is the proper American slang….a booty call?

Silence: That’s not what I’m here for, Percy.

Whitman: Stop calling me that…only my mother calls me that.

Silence stifles her grin.

Silence: You need help…

Whitman: If that’s not the pot calling the kettle black.

Silence: Romantic help, that is.

Whitman rears back from the table with his eyebrow encroaching on his scalp.

Silence: Considering I’m the only member of the Black Crusade born with certain feminine aspects, I’m here to give you lessons in the art of wooing the fairer sex.

A piece of bacon is scooped out of the potato skin and launched half way across the room, landing in someone’s beer glass.

Whitman: I hardly require your aid. I’ve shagged my fair share of young damsels.

Silence: But what you desire with Mrs. Prince, goes far beyond a simple ‘shagging,’ or ‘booty call,’ yes?

He has no earthly idea why he does it, but Whitman nods, actually opening up to Silence, albeit unintentionally.

Silence: It’s become clear to the Black Crusade that your wholly incapable of ensnaring the raven headed beauty. You do not possess the suave qualities necessary to win over a woman of Mrs. Prince’s caliber. Legion on the other hand, and you might find this a tad surprising, is quite proficient when it comes to winning over the ladies. So I’ll be channeling his advice throughout this evening, in an attempt to teach you the fine art of…spitting some game.

Whitman: I’ll have none of this.

The napkin that was absorbing the water from his mustache is tossed to the table before the X-Class Champion gets up to leave.

Silence: If you truly wish to pursue this relationship with Mrs. Prince, you’ll take your seat and listen.

Sacrificing a potential love affair with Lois Prince is not something Whitman wishes to gamble, considering he’s come this far, and gotten this close. Or maybe its just morbid intrigue. Actually, it’s probably a combination of both that leads him to retake his seat. Just as he slips into his chair his pocket vibrates, prompting Whitman to remove his cell-phone and raise it to his ear.

Whitman: Hello Dear…

He listens to Lois regurgitate the very words that Silence uttered moments ago.

Whitman: That’s fine, Love, you just worry about getting better. I’m sure I’ll find some way to fill my time this evening.

Another piece of bacon is flicked across the room, landing in the cleavage of a plus sized woman.

To be continued…

Tick-tock…tick-tock…tick-tock…tick-tock…

A long flowing gown hangs from the body of that very mysterious young lady, who twists from one side to the other as she now stands on a small dais. A bundle of roses are cradled to her chest, and a crown sits upon her head.

Their all gonna laugh at you…their all gonna laugh at you.

In queenly fashion she raises a hand into the air and waves to her adoring masses…masses who cannot see her face behind the bundle of hair hanging from her scalp.

Suddenly a bucket of blood comes oozing down from the ceiling, pouring down over her body, soaking it in crimson bodily secretion. Even as she becomes soaked by the blood, she remains stationary, not budging an inch, completely undaunted…completely unaffected.

Yes…they will laugh….they will….howl.

The camera zooms in and gets a very close up shot of the only visible section of her face, a blood red eye.

Tick-tock…tick-tock…tick-tock.

Mr. D: Yes…yes. I made it to the building.

The SCW Chairman and partial owner of the IWC runs his fingers across a table top as he walks past it backstage. He lifts his fingers up in front of his face, examining the dust collected under his nails and flicking it away before belly aching into his cell-phone.

Mr. D: And this place really needs a better janitorial staff….Now I’m sure you didn’t just call me because you were worried I wouldn’t make it to the building safely….

He pauses and listens…big shock.

M. D: Wait…what do you mean HE’S THERE?

The back of his head is scratched in a confused gesture, completely forgetting the dust collected under his nails.

Mr. D: That doesn’t make any….

In the midst of his forward progression he steps into an area of the hall that was poorly lit, and for good reason. The overhead bulbs begin to flicker and spark, as the camera filming this scene is hit with some intermittent periods of static.

Mr. D: Hello…HELLO….

The lights and the camera aren’t the only pieces of tech irritated by this strange backstage distortion. He looks at his phone and sees a black screen and no amount of button mashing will power it back up again. The attention turns from phone to a shut crate at his side, due to the banging noises emanating from within. A burning Black Crusade sigil is now evident on the crate’s lid, but it wasn’t there a few moments ago. Tentatively Mr. D extends his foot and pushes back the lid to reveal Jacob Laymon stuffed inside, all folded up like a pretzel, his knees actually placed to his shoulders.

Laymon: How did I get here? How!?!

Mr. D shuts the lid with that same foot.

Mr. D: I don’t even want to know.

He just keeps on walking, moving along as if on a mission while removing that piece of paper stuffed in the breast pocket of his jacket.

MOMENTS AGO

The World Heavyweight Title match…which can only be described as intense from start to finish…..is recapped.

Dollar: Ah yes, thankfully another video package that isn’t influenced by Mr. Hush.

Susie: He should be our permanent audio/visual dude.

Dollar: Just before the break we saw a grueling World Title bout between reigning Champion Taylor Chase, and challenger Katelyn Buehler….before THIS happened.

Blood gushes down the face of Katelyn, who is setting up for the Epic Fail. The dreaded spinning superkick is about to be unleashed when she loses her footing, botching and as thus collapsing to the canvas…all building up to the TKO that puts her down to the canvas and puts an end to her World Title ambitions. Chase begins to celebrate only to realize that the World Heavyweight Title has found its way into the clutches of Orlando Cruze. The last image we see from the video is Orlando rushing up the ramp and to the back with the Championship in his clutches, and Tay-Tay cursing his name.

Dollar: Taylor Chase had her hands full with her challenger tonight, as Katelyn Buehler gave her an epic…no pun intended…challenge, but eventually her inexperience cost her big time, as she botched that superkick and got nailed with the TKO. But the big story here, is not Katelyn’s idiocy, it’s the fact that the Championship was stolen right out from under Katelyn’s nose by the ‘love of her life’ Orlando Cr…..

The Brod: CRUZE!!!

The crowd is less than accepting of The Brod, and even less receptive to his bellyaching. The patriarch of the Chase Wrestling family paces in the ring, right past the RIGHTFUL World Heavyweight Champion, Taylor Chase, who stomps her foot with arms crossed, hoping her DADDY can fix this situation.

Dollar: As everyone can see, the Brod and Taylor Chase STILL taking a stand inside of the ring. They haven’t left since Orlando’s piracy of the title.

Susie: Don’t say piracy. You might inspire Orlando to start wearing an eye-patch and embark on some swashbuckling adventures.

An outraged Brod continues to publicly air his grievances.

The Brod: This has gone on long enough. What you’ve been doing to my Pumpkin…the way you’ve played with her emotions…its unforgiveable.

An arm is wrapped around Taylor’s neck, utilized to pull her into a protective hug.

The Brod: You claim that you love my daughter, that you worship the very ground she walks on….well it looks to me that you have a very…very funny way of expressing your affections. Instead of lavishing my daughter with all the riches she deserves, you take away her most prized possession, the World Heavyweight Championship? What’s wrong with you? You should be on your knees thanking God that a woman as gorgeous as my daughter would ever spend a SECOND of her time on the likes of you…..

Tay-Tay: Dad…Dad…let me handle this.

It goes against the Brod’s better judgment, but he gives the microphone to his emotionally distraught daughter.

Tay-Tay: Orlando…I had no idea you were this obsessed. This obsessed with the World Heavyweight Title….For a moment there, I actually thought you could care about something else. But it’s clear to me that as long as the World Heavyweight Title exists, you’ll never have room in your life for me, or anyone else. Is this why Kloe left you? Is this why none of your relationships worked out? I should have known…I should have known better by your track record that love is not in your…..

Orlando: LOVE is the only thing that drives me, Taylor.

The crowd is less receptive to Cruze than they are The Brod. Nevertheless, in spite of their abjections, Orlando steps to the stage with his shoulder weighed down by the World Heavyweight Title, and a microphone raised to his lips

Orlando: You might not believe this….but I do LOVE you, Tay-Tay. More-so than I’ve ever loved anybody. And a whole hell of a lot more than I’ve ever loved this.

He raises the World Championship above his head.

Orlando: Yes…this championship means the world to me.

The gold falls to his forearm.

Orlando: You have no idea what I’ve went through to hold this belt…the trials…the tribulations…the punishment I’ve suffered…but I’m willing to endure so much more if it means keeping you in my life, Chase.

These revelations tug at Tay-Tay on a very emotional level, but the Brod whispers into her ear, insisting that she keep that stiff upper-lip and not be swayed by flowery sentiment.

Tay-Tay: You love me? Really? Is that why you’re standing there with MY World Championship in your hands? Is that why you told Frankie Paradise to cost me the title match last week….?

Orlando: My words were taken out of context Tay-Tay. There was a reason I told Frankie to…

Tay-Tay: I don’t even want to hear it….What you did last week, it was inexcusable!

Orlando: No, it was the only thing I could do to protect you.

Tay-Tay: Protect me…From what? You?

Orlando drags his palm down his face.

Tay-Tay: Your nothing but a liar…what matters most to you IS that championship…otherwise you wouldn’t try to screw me out of it simply so you won’t have to face me at Upping the Ante. What are you so afraid of? That our relationship couldn’t survive a fight between us over the championship? That our relationship isn’t strong enough to endure one or two minor bumps in the road? Or are you worried that at Upping the Ante I’ll put an end to your claims that you’re the only one capable of holding that Championship. That you’re the only one….’marketable’ enough to be World Heavyweight Champion….?

The Brod doesn’t ask, he just takes, grabbing the microphone out of Tay-Tay’s hand before he forgets his thought.

The Brod: If you really cared about my precious little girl, you wouldn’t run off with her title, and you’d bring it back to this ring and retur….

Orlando: You don’t think I’d love to do that, Brod?

A deep breath is taken to try to compose himself.

Orlando: But I can’t….I just can’t allow Taylor to walk into Upping the Ante as the champion…

Tay-Tay doesn’t ask, she just takes….monkey see-monkey do…grabbing the microphone.

Tay-Tay: Why? Would you actually try to cripple me in order to hold that title?

Orlando: Crippling you is exactly what I’m trying to prevent.

Tay-Tay: So the truth finally comes….

Orlando: Enough…Tay-Tay…enough. Anything else you have to say can be said behind closed doors, in privacy…

Tay-Tay: No…you’re going to give me answers, and give me them right now!

Orlando: No…the only thing I can give you right now…is your second World Title defense.

Though Taylor is unable to audibly express it, the fans do it for her, a unanimous ‘what’ heard from the crowd, and this time not even when prompted by Steve Austin.

Orlando: What everyone fails to grasp, is that until the Board of Directors shows up and OFFICIALLY strips me of my position as President, I’m still in control, meaning I can still book matches. And right now, I’m booking you in your second World title match of the evening.

Its unclear rather Tay-Tay is more distressed than enraged….her eyes are clotting with tears as the man she thought she loved continues to turn the screws to her. Not even the hand of her father, gently placed on her shoulder, can put her at ease.

Orlando: All night long I’ve searched…searched for someone I could trust….

Tay-Tay: Yeah…yeah…yeah…Someone to team with you next week in another match you never should have….

Orlando: No…no….no….why will no one let me finish? I was looking for someone who could come to that ring and face you HONORABLY for the World Championship. Someone I know wouldn’t try to injure you in order to become the Champ…someone I trust could make sure you don’t make it to Upping the Ante with the title.

The Brod: Why are you doing this to her, Orlando….?

Orlando: And Brod, you’re banned from ringside for this match.

Broderick Chase seethes, and justifiably so.

Orlando: It wasn’t easy finding a challenger for you tonight, Tay-Tay. I went to Christian…I went to Silencer…I went to my friend Nathan Creed…none of them would even hear me out…and I completely failed to summon Legion. At the end of the day I could only rely on one person who’s been a good hand in the past. Which is why I placed a phone-call to THIS man…my ultimate back up plan.

To the side of the curtains Orlando steps and extends a palm towards the entry way. Instantly the opening track of Jackson Adams’ theme music kicks in and through the curtains strides the returning former Cartel and X-Class Champion, now about to add another accolade to his lengthy list of accomplishments.

Dollar: I hate to sound like these idiots in New York…but…what? Jackson Adams hasn’t been brought in to give answers…instead he’s here to be the second challenger for the World Heavyweight Title tonight?

Susie: I’m more confused than the time I sat through the movie Pearl Harbor? Why do people think that Ben Affleck can act?

Dollar: And what is Orlando thinking here? He’s really that desperate to rob Tay-Tay of the title? Just so he won’t have to face her for the Championship? Even I’m losing faith in our illustrious Icon.

Susie: Don’t you actually have to have faith in someone in order to lose it?

Dollar: Good point.

Adams pauses on the stage and nods towards Orlando before heading towards the ring, which The Brod vacates after giving his daughter some last second words of encouragement. Taylor hears absolutely nothing…far too shocked by this stunning revelation that her night is yet young, that another title bout is moments from beginning.

Tay-Tay bends forward with palms wedged to knees, taking a deep breathe as she watches Adams slide under the ropes and into the ring. Almost immediately Chase pounces on him though, dropping down and throwing repeated forearms over his back.

Dollar: Apparently this match is official. Jackson Adams, in his first night back with the company since it was revealed that he’s been suffering concussion issues, is challenging Chase for the Championship, and we’re seeing it right friggin now.

Susie: She hasn’t even recovered from her last match yet.

Dollar: That seems to be the point.

The Brod stops on the stage right beside Orlando, who is unable to bring himself to look into the eyes of Taylor’s father. With a sigh and a shake of his head Broderick offers but a passing comment.

The Brod: Pathetic.

He then steps through the curtains and leaves his daughter to do what she does best, perform…which is exactly what she’s in the process of doing. Adams tries to get up, hand pressed to the canvas still smeared with fresh blood splatters. He doesn’t get up in time to prevent the repeated blows from the forearm delivered by Chase, who then spins around and clocks him to the back of the head with a big roundhouse kick, obviously targeting his possibly still concussed cranium.

Jackson collapses to the canvas and Tay-Tay crawls into the cover, hooking a leg. Referee Ingelson re-emerges, sliding back into the ring and into position to make the count.

1

Adams gets a shoulder up, showing that he’s recovered from the concussion that has apparently kept him sidelined the past few weeks. He then scrambles to his feet only to have Chase rush in and clothesline him to the throat. It isn’t delivered with enough force to take Adams down, instead sending him spiraling into one of the turnbuckles, falling against it for support.

Dollar: Tay-Tay surprisingly controlling this match thus far. She’s fueled by pure womanly wrath thanks to Orlando’s mistreatment.

Susie: Should I do my whole woman roar?

Dollar: Good gracious no. That’s now on my banned list too.

Jackson is showing a bit of ring rust, after not being allowed to train for almost a month, which is why he’s unable to block yet another running lariat, connecting straight to his larynx. Chase then takes Adams around the neck and rushes out of the corner into a bulldog. But Adams puts the breaks on it, reaching back with both hands and grabbing the top ropes to prevent being driven face first against the canvas.

An aggravated Tay-Tay then spins around and rushes at Adams, who bends down, catches her by the knee and heaves her up into a flapjack that puts her ribs first right into the top rope.

Tay-Tay bounces off the ropes hard, grabbing at her mid-section then staggering back into the waiting arms of the challenger. All Cruze can do is watch with remorseful eyes as a stooped over Taylor is spun around and then hit with a famouser from Adams. From the canvas Chase pops, flopping over to her back as Adams scrambles into the cover, hoping Katelyn inflicted enough damage so that he could make quick work of the champion.

1

2

Chase gets a shoulder up to a mild reaction from the crowd, who are just plain fickle when it comes to who they should be supporting in this bout. Some feel sympathy for Tay-Tay, and others realize that she is a woman who simply does not deserve sympathy.

Dollar: Tay-Tay filling the ill-effects of her previous title match, going into this bout with Adams at nowhere near 100%. Plus she’s wrestling a man who hasn’t been in the ring for a month, meaning he’s as fresh as possible.

Susie: Sometimes I have trouble with freshness myself. Maybe Adams can tell me what kind of panty liners he uses.

As in the case of his face to face with The Brod, Orlando can’t bring himself to look upon what’s happening in the ring. Instead he settles for pacing as the action picks up within the squared circle…as if it ever ended.

Adams pulls Tay-Tay along by the hair and charges her across the ring before driving her face into the turnbuckle. She bounces off and falls to a knee as Adams leans into the back of her skull with a knee of his own, using it to push her throat against the middle turnbuckle pad.

He then backs up and gets a running start behind a big knee strike to the back of the skull. Adams then drags her out of the turnbuckle and throws her down to the canvas before falling across her chest.

1

Tay-Tay still has enough left in the tank to get a shoulder up. But the second she launches her arm from the ring, Adams grabs her by the shoulder and forces her back down into another pinning predicament, this time wedging a forearm against the bridge of her nose.

1

2

Chase shows one of many inherited characteristics, stubbornness. She kicks out again and only further intensifies Adams’ onslaught. Jackson leaps to his feet then into the air before coming down with a boot across her forehead.

The onslaught continues as the ailing Champion is dragged around to her feet only to be snapmared ot her seat while Adams rushes into the ropes in front of her, building some momentum as he ricochets from the ropes. He then delivers a swift boot directly to Chase’s forehead, knocking the World Champion out and leaving her susceptible to yet another pinfall.

Into the lateral press Adams falls….still believing he can put her away with ease after her previous encounter.

1

2

The persistent Chase remains just that…persistent. She gets another shoulder up to a surprising pop from SOME of the fans. Understandably Adams is a bit more intense in this match, as this the closest he’s come to the fulfillment of his World Title ambitions.

He leads Tay-Tay to her feet and delivers a few rights to her temple before ultimately whipping her into the turnbuckle. Adams follows her right in and leaps into the air when Tay-Tay steps out of the way, causing Jackson to alter his strategy. He lands on the middle rope and then twists around just as Tay-Tay comes charging in, catching her in the forehead with a boot.

Chase backs up right into position for Adams, who leaps out of the corner and twists in mid-air, delivering a flying European Uppercut that removes the Champion from her feet.

Dollar: Tay-Tay is really moving slower in that ring. Exhaustion HAS to be kicking in at this point.

A struggling Chase is surprisingly getting to her feet when Adams ricochets off the ropes in front of her and now hits a running European Uppercut that lifts her up off of her feet and sends her through the ropes to the outside of the ring. She lands on her feet while Adams braces himself and prepares to unleash another big dive, slapping his bicep in the process. The crowd anticipates seeing a rarity, a suicide diving Euro Uppercut, which is exactly what Adams is about to unleash. He barrels across the ring and is on the verge of diving through the ropes when Tay-Tay leaps to the apron, leaps over the ropes, leaps over Jackson’s back and catches him around the hips, dragging him down into the sunset flip.

Dollar: She might have it…she might have it!

The crowd squeals as Adams desperately kicks his legs but can’t get out of this pinning predicament.

1

2

Just as the official is about to confirm a successful second title defense, Adams dashes those hopes, kicking out.

Dollar: Does she have him…does she!?!

1

2

Not only does Adams kick out, but rolls completely over backwards straight to his feet, then wedges his shoulders to the creases of Tay-Tay’s knees. He unleashes a deep, guttural roar as he exerts all of his strength to heave Chase up into the air. He only gets her half way up into the power bomb position before swinging her around so that the side of her head and shoulder collides with the turnbuckle. The collision is devastating, leaving Chase sprawled across the ring and Orlando covering his eyes.

>Dollar: That did NOT pay off well for Chase. She was just RAMMED into that turnbuckle.

Susie: I hate to see women getting rammed.

Dollar: You would be the only one.

Tay-Tay is dragged away from the turnbuckle she was just rammed against and then turned over to her stomach by Adams, locking in a cloverleaf. Chase is hurting and hurting badly after already competing once and now being forced to defend her championship for the second time this evening. She lifts a palm into the air, already toying with the notion of tapping out, but she hangs tough, perseveres onward and forward into the ropes.

Her palms prop her up as she crawls into the cables and grabs the bottom one to a mixed bag of reactions from the crowd. Jackson knows precisely how to react though, throwing down the legs and pissing and moaning as he storms to the center of the ring. He then turns back and grabs Tay-Tay by the ankle, dragging her back to the center of the ring only to have the Champ lift her foot, wedge it to the side of Jackson’s head and kick him off.

Adams staggers back but doesn’t let go of the ankle. He steps back in, raises the leg into the air and swings around it, applying a spinning toe hold. The pain is agonizing and Tay-Tay isn’t about to endure it. She lifts a foot, places it straight to Jackson’s rear-end and kicks him off. Jackson is sent staggering into the ropes but then diving through them. He takes residency on the apron, anticipating Tay-Tay getting back to her feet.

It isn’t easy for Chase to do it, but she finally gets her legs beneath her, even if they are incredibly wobbly. Adams then springs to the top rope and takes flight, soaring right towards Tay-Tay, who suddenly takes to the air herself, nailing the inbound Adams with a big dropkick to the chest, swatting him out of the air.

Dollar: He did it again! Haven’t you learned your lesson Jackson? Every time he tries to go high risk it ends horribly for him.

Susie: Yes, just like every time I do math it ends with a nose bleed.

In spite of the lung busting dropkick, Jackson is dashing back to his feet then back in at Taylor, who surprises him with a leaping back heel kick. The shot takes Adams down, but doesn’t keep him there for long. He’s scrambling back to his feet when Tay-Tay spins around and catches him to the ribs with another devastating kick. She then steps to his side and delivers a hard kick to his chest, causing him to stand back up straight. Chase follows this up with an absolutely lethal step up enzugari to the back of the head that has Adams looking like he’s in need of an immediate cat-scan.

Dollar: And just like that Tay-Tay is coming back…building some serious momentum.

Someone, somewhere needs to shout ’timber,’ because Adams is slowly going over but now down to the canvas. Instead he twists into the turnbuckle, landing on his knees and looking brain dead. He rises to his feet just as Chase comes charging out of the opposite corner, leaping into the air and hitting a big hesitation dropkick to the back of Jackson’s head and shoulders, wedging him between boots and turnbuckle.

To the middle of the ring both athletes roll, which is fitting for Tay-Tay, because that’s just what she’s on…an absolute roll. She gets to her feet and looks at the distressed mug of a man she was willing to pledge her affection to. Now all she feels is disdain at the sight of him…but her sights twist quickly to Adams, who is back on his feet and trying to throw a right hand…TRYING. Tay-Tay ducks it and swings around behind Jackson, wedging her hands to his back and shoving him forward into the ropes.

He bounces off and Tay-Tay goes airborne into yet another dropkick, this one of the front dropkick variety. But instead of both feet nailing Adams, Tay-Tay’s back nails the canvas. She hits the ring with enough force to ring her bell, and expose her to Jackon’s onslaught.

Adams grabbed hold of the ropes to prevent being ricocheted into the kick and now steps away from the cables that provided such aide. He stoops down, grabs Tay-Tay around the waist and heaves her up into that same power bomb position. He then swings around in order to drive her skull into the turnbuckle but this time Tay-Tay reaches out and protects her head by grabbing the ropes. She now finds herself in a tug of war between the ropes and Adams’ arms. Jackson tries to pull her away from the ropes but Tay-Tay holds on tight, and just long enough to free one of her strong legs, wedge a boot to Jackson’s pectoral muscle, and shove him off.

In the process of kicking him away, Chase flips over backwards and ends up seated on the top rope. She scrambles to her feet and then goes airborne before Jackson even has time to react, nailing him with a missle front dropkick that catches him directly under the chin,

Dollar: And she nails it.

Susie: I do like to see woman nail men…

Dollar: Sure you have plenty of experience in that department.

Susie: Depends on if I have a nail-gun or not, Johnny.

Dollar: Clearly you have no grasp on subtlety.

Susie: Is it sugarless tea?

Surprisingly more and more fans are coming around to Tay-Tay, perceived as the lesser of two evils on this occasion. Nevertheless, even with growing crowd support, Chase struggles to her feet and follow up on the big kick. She finally crawls into the cover, hooking a leg with Ingelson assuming the position.

1

2

But there will not be a three, because Jackson gets a shoulder up and does so with defiance. Orlando is brushing sweat from his brow as the match persists, meaning Tay-Tay COULD retain her title. He reluctantly approaches the ring and stops beside it, getting close enough for Chase to hear him once she reaches her feet.

Orlando: Please Taylor…PLEASE!

Tay-Tay: Stay the hell away from me you son of a…

Before she can finish her statement, Jackson spins her around and delivers a quick kick to her gut, doubling her over. He then hooks both of her arms and heaves her up for his Spectacular Ending, but Chase shifts what little body weight she has, in order to drop back to her feet. She then swings out of the Angel’s Wings, and swings around with her foot launching at Jackson’s head. The boot sails right over its target though, Jackson ducking, standing and catching Chase around the arms. He spins her around and drives her hard face first into the canvas with the un-prettier.

Dollar: Orlando distracted Tay-Tay just long enough for Adams to recover, and it’s cost Chase dearly. Say goodbye to the Title, Tay-Tay.

Susie: I’ll say it for her…bye-bye title. I’ll miss you.

Adams drops into the cover, forearm wedged to face.

1

2

Not just yet…Taylor launches a shoulder yet AGAIN from the canvas, keeping this match rolling right along, to the chagrin of both Adams and Orlando.

Susie: Hey…I thought you said this was going to be over. You made me sound like an idiot.

Dollar: You need absolutely no help in that department.

Adams has had enough of this affair already, fed up with Taylor’s reluctance to fork over the championship. He stands up and grabs the protective steel knee brace of Chase, beginning to stomp down at the only uncovered portion of it..

Dollar: Jackson targeting Tay-Tay’s knee, I certainly can’t fault him for this move. That leg at one time debilitated Chase to the point where she lost several years of her wrestling career.

Jackson doesn’t just stomp at the knee brace he actually begins to unbuckle it. This is NOT what Orlando anticipated, evident as he furrows his brow and shakes his head. He slaps his palms on the apron and shouts at Adams to stop but Jackson isn’t listening, willing to cripple Chase if that’s what it takes to become World Champion.

Orlando: You said you’d take it easy on her Adams.

With the knee brace unshackled Adams turns to respond to the President.

Adams: I lied.

He then turns back to Tay-Tay, and receives a big upward kick right to the face. Jackson grabs at his jaw, turning away from Taylor and swiping his palm against his lip. He actually smiles in the direction of a truly upset Cruze.

For some reason Jackson just can’t help himself, pantomiming a title around his waist then turning just as Tay-Tay stands up and swings her protective knee brace directly into his ribs. Surprisingly the referee does not signal for the bell at the sight of Adams doubling over the brace, as the weapon is not foreign in nature, technically being part of Chase’s ring attire.

Tay-Tay then leaps into the air, and the protective plate embedded within her knee, cracks against Jackson’s temple. With force he collapses to the canvas and with speed Tay-Tay scrambles into the cover, hooking both legs.

Orlando doesn’t know what to do….stuck in a very hard spot, unable to decide if he wants Tay-Tay to win, or would rather risk seeing her subjected to even more violence from Adams. It quickly becomes apparent that all he can do is watch…..hand over his mouth and sorrow in his eyes.

1

2

3

The pinfall was obligatory, no kicking out possible after Adams tasted the sweat on Tay-Tay’s knees, knocking his teeth to the back of his throat. Chase sits up and celebrates yet another successful title defense albeit to heckles from the crowd.

Dollar: And somehow, through the skin of her teeth, Chase does it again. She successfully defends her championship for a second time!

Susie: This woman needs some golden bracelets and the lasso of truth.

Dollar: I wouldn’t mind seeing her in some tight fitting spandex, that’s for sure.

The audience’s response is just as mixed as Orlando’s, who just can’t help himself. He climbs up onto the apron with the World Title over his shoulder and eyes exuding compassion. Tay-Tay stops celebrating another career milestone in order to reach out and grab the title, trying to pry it away from Orlando.

Orlando: Tay-Tay…Tay-Tay…stop it…STOP IT!

He is forced to lower his microphone as he gets into a tug of war with Chase over the championship.

Orlando: Let go…I’m begging you.

Tay-Tay: It’s mine, I EARNED this…give it back.

She gives a big tug on the title and pulls Orlando not only into the ring but right into her lips. The two exchange a passionate, albeit unintentional kiss.

Dollar: God I wish I was Orlando’s lips right now.

The two continue to kiss, at first to the resistance of both, but they slowly begin to melt into one another’s arms. Chase actually throws one around the back of Orlando’s neck and pulls him into a tighter lip lock while Orlando actually throws one around Chase’s waist and heaves her up into the air. Her legs wrap around his hips as the two continue to kiss.

Jackson rolls to the outside, holding his jaw and watching with disgust as he backs up the ramp. The rest of the crowd watches as well before they see the World Title slipping out of Orlando’s hand. Tay-Tay is utilizing the kiss to give her satisfaction and to lower Orlando’s guard so she can pry the belt away. But once he feels it slipping through his clutches, Cruze tightens his grasp and refuses to let it go.

The two then go right back to fighting over the Championship, Tay-Tay breaking the kiss and dropping to her feet.

Orlando: Tay-Tay…please…just give me an opportunity to explain myself.

At last she lets go of the gold, feeling a bit of oxygen deprivation as a result of the long kiss she just exchanged with the President. Oddly enough she’s willing to give him the benefit of the doubt even after everything they’ve went through the past few weeks…or more accurately….everything he put her through over the past few weeks.

Dollar: Is she actually listening to this bald baboon?

Susie: I think she is.

The look of legitimate emotion seems to absorb Tay-Tay, drawing her in to his words.

Orlando: You know that everything I do is because I love you…is because I want to protect you. Some times I screw up…I admit it…last week was one of those times. I TRIED to keep you safe, but I went about doing it in all the wrong ways. But I know you THINK, I should have come to you and talked things out after I signed that contract. I couldn’t…there was nothing I could have said…or nothing I could have done that would have kept you from coming to this ring and fighting for the championship. I could have told you who would be the next person to face you for the title, and under what circumstances you‘d have to defend said title under, but you STILL would have come out here, and you still would have wrestled your heart out to ultimately become the champion. So talking to you, it would have been useless….I know you Tay-Tay…you’d never let me compel you to lay down and forfeit your World Title shot. So yeah. I went behind your back…if that makes me a scoundrel…a no good low down son of a bitch…then so be it. But it had to be done…I HAD to protect you….

Tay-Tay: I don’t NEED protection.

Hot potato is once again played with the microphone.

Tay-Tay: I think I just proved, not once….but TWICE…that I can protect MYSELF. So why don’t you stick to the boardroom, and stay out of MY business? Let me do my thing. And if my thing happens to be defeating you at Upping the Ante, then so be it…that’s exactly what I’ll do.

These words are like daggers to Orlando.

Tay-Tay: And another thing…you were right…totally right when you said no words would sway me from fighting for the championship…not even knowing that we would be opponents as a result. Because unlike you…I have faith that our relationship is strong enough to survive a fair…one on one fight for the championship. I can put up with you potentially beating me for the belt…not that it would happen in a zillion years…and I’m sure your ego can endure falling to me..won’t be the first time I pinned you after-all.

These words are like sugar to Orlando.

Tay-Tay: So why don’t you just have faith in our relationship…in our…

Harrison: Because this is a lot more complicated than your sweet little Orlando is letting on.

The fans heckle, and rightfully so, Aaron Harrison, who not only carries a microphone with him as he strolls down the ramp, but a Singapore Cane as well.

Dollar: Oh goody, it‘s Harrison…and he‘s got a little toy with him too.

Susie: And that’s one toy I actually wouldn’t play with.

Surprisingly the weapon is not intended as defense, evident as Harrison stops at ringside and throws the cane over the ropes where it lands right at Tay-Tay’s feet. Wisely Aaron doesn’t enter the ring, where Orlando is putting up a fist and trying to nudge Chase around him. She is having none of it, swatting his hands away.

Harrison: Orlando is lying to you, he’s LYING to everyone actually…

Cruze utters a few words that should never be uttered with children in attendance.

Harrison: Because that’s what Orlando does best…he lies…he manipulates…he deceives….He’s a man of ill repute…and something NEEDS to be done about him and NEEDS to be done now…Tay-Tay…pick up the cane…

Chase looks down at the weapon, then up at the face of Harrison.

Tay-Tay: Blow yourself.

Harrison: Now…now Taylor…no need to be so crass. I’m offering you a grand opportunity here. An opportunity to exorcise the demon that has been corrupting this company since it reopened its doors. An opportunity to slay the dragon hording the gold. Orlando will never learn his lesson until he’s fallen on his sword…or until someone makes him realize there are repercussions for his actions. Just think for a second…think about everything this man has put you through….Doesn’t it make you angry? Doesn’t it make you hostile? Aren‘t you fed up with him? Don‘t you want to teach him a lesson, Taylor? This is it…your opportunity to do just that. So pick up the cane…do it.

Taylor looks down at the cane, then up into the face of Orlando this time.

Aaron: Still not convinced are we? That this is the best course of action for not only you, but for the entire IWC? Hmmm, maybe you would be swayed should you get a glimpse of that contract Orlando signed last week…the one that pits him against you for the Championship. The one that allows him to keep his strangle hold on the belt.

Taylor looks down at the cane, and doesn’t look back up.

Aaron: I think if you saw some of the stipulations he placed on that match, you might be convinced to use that cane to crush his manipulative, deceptive, lying brain. For instance, did you know that the match he signed off of on will be no disqualifications…

Taylor KEEPS looking down at the cane, as her skin turns from a nice beige hue to a light red.

Aaron: Still not doing it for you? Still not convincing you to cut away the tumor that threatens to metastasize and spread through the whole company? Okay then, how about I be a bit more forthcoming with the details in that contract? How about I talk about the stip where the challenger gets to pick the special guest referee. Don’t you realize what that means? It means he can pick anyone he desires to turn the match in his favor…to help screw you out of the championship.

Taylor at last looks up, her gaze doing even more damage than the cane could inflict. Orlando opens his mouth to explain only to have Harrison cut him off, with even more details regarding the title bout.

Aaron: Wow…you’re an incredibly forgiving person, Taylor…well that or you’ve been thoroughly brainwashed by this parasite. Please do what’s right Tay-Tay, what you really need to do in order to keep that Championship and protect your future, because obviously the challenger is not just stacking the deck in order to take your belt, but to take your career.

Tay-Tay is aborbed into every word that oozes from Harrison, even if they don’t drip of emotion like Orlando’s…and his eyes are less than sympathetic.

Harrison: From what I’ve gathered, the contract for that match at Upping the Ante, has more than just TWO stipulations, and the last one truly threatens your career longevity, gorgeous. It allows the challenger to name any stipulation…ANY stipulation they desire, and in keeping with the spirit of the Icon’s deplorable, and inhuman treatment of others, the word through the grapevine, is that the challenger is planning to make you compete with your hands cuffed behind your back.

This last revelation is not just met with gasps from the crowd but a lifting of the cane from the canvas, finding its way into Chase’s clutches. She squeezes the cane to create significant friction while her eyes threaten to tear the skin from Cruze’s flesh.

Aaron: Have I touched upon all the stipulations you signed off on, Orlando? You challenging for the Championship….Taylor Chase being forced to wrestle under no DQ rules at Upping the Ante…the special referee being left up to the challenger…and oh…oh yes…Tay-Tay wrestling with her wrists shackled behind her back? Yep, I think that covers everything.

Tay-Tay is shaking from head to toe, trying her best to resist the impulse to bludgeon a pleading Orlando.

Aaron: Are you just going to take this, Taylor? Are you going to let this man put you at such a disadvantage at the pay-per-view? He’s booked you into a winless situation…A situation that ensures you’ll never walk away as World Heavyweight Champion. Hell, that you‘ll never walk again. You can‘t let him get away with this. You owe it to yourself…no…you owe it to the entire IWC, to do something before its too late…before Orlando takes you out like he will everyone else who stands between him and what he loves the most. And he proved two weeks ago, that it isn‘t YOU, he prizes more than anything else…it‘s what he‘s got on his shoulder right now…what‘s yours. So PLEASE Tay-Tay, I‘m begging you, exercise some common sense and drop the compassion for this monster. Take that cane and end this…end this before Orlando‘s reign of terror claims even more victims.

The cane is gripped so tightly that fire could burst out between her palms and the staff, but it still does not connect with Orlando’s skull.. Aaron takes a deep breath, runs his hand down his cheek and contemplates taking a different approach.

Aaron: Okay then, you know what, I’m gonna let the cat out of the bag here, Tay-Tay. I’ll admit to it, I played a role in Orlando’s signing of that contract, and you want to know why? I wanted to expose him for the degenerate ego maniacal scum-bag he is. The Blacklist respects you, we respect your father…. Mika, she absolutely adores you…plus Lukas has a life-size cardboard cut out of you in his room….for reasons I hazard not to guess…Unlike Orlando, we know your special, we know your just the person who can SAVE this company. Who can put an end to the Icon’s tyranny. So yeah, I helped coerce Cruze into signing that contract, to prevent you from being hurt in the long-run, before he could manipulate you any further with his ridiculous ‘proposals.’ But I made sure to attach a little addendum to that contract, one that stipulates that I have the power to call off the title match….

Orlando’s eyes are almost breaking out of their sockets, looking like they just became crustaceous. Chase looks between the stunned Icon, and the gabby Harrison, equally as surprised by this latest revelation.

Aaron: And being a person far more compassionate than this sociopath you’ve been manipulated by, I’m willing to make some concessions. I’ll call off the match if you take that cane and well…you know how the rest of this plays out.

The time for words are over, and now there are only actions…everyone waiting to see Tay-Tay’s…waiting to see if she’ll fall in line…if she’ll take the cane and crush Orlando’s skull, or exercise some better judgment. In order to make her decision just a tad bit easier, Orlando is actually dropping to his knees in the center of the ring, arms stretched out to his side in a true martyr position.

Orlando: Do it Taylor…do it!

To say that Chase is stunned is like saying that Tara Reid is a bad actress…it’s the biggest understatement of the century. She is bowled over at the sight of Orlando actually sacrificing himself…sacrificing himself to prevent the World Title match at Upping the Ante from unfolding. What was once an easy decision has just been made so much more difficult by this selfless act, one uncharacteristic of the man she’s been led to believe that Orlando has become.

Orlando: PLEASE! I’m begging you Taylor…hit me! HIIT ME!

Chase lifts the cane, moments from crushing Orlando’s skull but then stops, lowering the staff to her side, unable to bring herself do it.

Orlando: Save yourself.

The cane is raised above Taylor’s head and about to be brought down into Orlando’s skull. She steps forward, in mid-swing just as Cruze’s face twists pre-emotively, closing his eyes and turning away.

Orlando: I love you.

These words were spoken at a very poor time, as it prompts Taylor to stop cold…even though her passion for Orlando has been reignited, burning red-hot within her. Cruze tentatively opens one eye, looking out of the corner of it at the cane stopped mere inches from his face. The pupil ascends from the cane to the frozen features of his love.

Orlando: What are you doing?

The Icon looks more alarmed than ever at the sight of the cane dropping from Taylor’s hand and hitting the canvas.

Orlando: No…no please…hit me…come on…do it!

From the canvas the cane is plucked, but not by Chase’s hand, instead it’s Orlando’s. He desperately holds the cane out to Tay-Tay.

Orlando: Take it…take it God dammit! Put an end to me…you heard Aaron…I’m a monster…I’ll do anything to make myself champion….I’ll step on anyone….including you if that’s what it tak….

Tay-Tay: Bull.

For the first time the World Heavyweight Champion seems to be seeing things clearly, the muddied waters at last becoming clear. Much to the dissatisfaction of Harrison, clearly not liking how his plan has just unraveled.

Tay-Tay: Explain something to me, Orlando.

The cane is swatted aside like Orlando’s hands earlier as Chase drops to her knees in front of him and puts hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look eye to eye with her.

Tay-Tay: If you’re so determined to screw me out of the World Title…then why would you be so desperate to get out of our match?

Orlando jerks his head away.

Orlando: I’m no good, Taylor…Please just….

Tay-Tay; Tell me what’s going on…Just talk to me.

Orlando:: I…I can’t…

Mr. D: Then allow me to do the honors.

The owner of SCW and Chairman of the Board gets a reaction that would even make Charlie Manson cringe.

Dollar: We saw him arrive, and now we’re seeing him in the flesh…it’s Mr. D.

Susie: How much flesh is he planning on revealing? I didn’t even bring any single dollar bills with me.

Dollar: But what honors is he referring to?

Harrison feigns surprise at the sight of Mr. D, putting fingers to his lips in a fraudulent display of fear. Contrastingly, the reactions of both Orlando Cruze and Taylor Chase are totally legitimate, the two seemingly stunned by the sight of Mr. D standing there with a mic in one hand, and that same piece of paper in the other. Wisely Mr. D does not descend upon the ring, refusing to get any closer to the psychopath located at the end of the ramp, nor anywhere near the Singapore Cane still sitting beside Chase and Cruze.

Mr. D: I know…I know…shock….surprise….my name trending worldwide at the moment…yadda…yadda…yadda…let’s get past all that and let’s get to why I’m here…

Once again Orlando wears his emotions on his sleeve, reacting in jest rather than giving time for Olek’s words to gestate. He stands up with microphone griped as tightly in his hand as the cane Taylor was holding moments ago.

Orlando: We all know why you’re here, Olek, because I called you out here so that the two of us could at last end this…

Mr. D: Well…that’s partially true. I did come here in response to your challenge. Orlando…

Orlando: So get on with it then. Admit you’re here to do what you’ve been doing to my family since day one…continuing to torment the Cruzes.

Instead of cutting him off, Mr. D opts to let Orlando get this out of his system. Occasionally glancing at his watch, even though it stopped working the moment he wandered across the transportation of Jacob Laymon, which also rendered his phone useless.

Orlando: You’ve had it out for me, and my family, for as long as I can remember? Why, because you could never control me like you did your sheep over in SCW. And your ego couldn’t handle it…and it couldn’t handle the fact that you were never able to lure me…the most marketable and popular of all IWC superstars, over to SCW. You just stuck in your crawl that you couldn’t manipulate me. That you couldn’t sign me to a contract in order to ridicule and degrade me. You loathed the fact that I was carrying the IWC to greatness, that because of me SCW’s ratings were plummeting, while the IWC’s were sky rocketing. That’s why you’ve been out to torture me…and why you’re here right now to strip me of my powers as President of the IWC…

Mr. D: Are you through?

Mr. D is totally unaffected by the tirade from Cruze, actually it just seems to annoy rather than anger him.

Orlando: Just get it over with, Olek.

Mr. D” You might be the only one shocked by this Orlando, but your totally and completely wrong. Well…not about the fact that I would rather tie a boulder around your ankle than throw you a flotation device if you were drowning. To be honest…I can’t stand you, Orlando…never have, never will. You masquerade yourself as some hero…some type of savior…when we all know you’re the same type of ego maniacal prick I deal with on a daily basis. Your just a self absorbed lunatic obsessed with the fulfillment of your own ambitions, even if they get in the way of what’s best for business. That’s why I was opposed to you being named as President of the IWC from day one…but unfortunately, the Board opted to disagree with me…

Orlando: Boo-hoo, Olek. Just stop giving us your sob story and do what you’ve been yearning to since the day I took the helm as President of the IWC. Just go ahead and….

Mr. D: What? Remove you as President? I’d absolutely love to…but that’s not why I’m here tonight.

Once again Orlando’s eyes are jutting out of his skull.

Mr. D: To be honest with you, Orlando. I’m not sure what spurred you on so much. What got you so fired up, and angry enough to challenge me to come here tonight. But you‘ve never been bashful about hiding your feelings, and wanting to do things in a public forum. So I decided what was best for business, to ensure the two of us continued to work together professionally, was to come out here and answer your challenge. But the trip here, it gave me some time…time enough to look over this!

That same piece of paper he’s been carrying around throughout the night is extended to Mr. D’s side.

Mr. D: What I have here is a copy of the contract…the ORIGINAL contract…not what was faxed to the Board of Directors. This is the ENTIRE document you signed, Orlando. And this contract has some hidden specifications that NEED to be addressed. Since you won‘t do it, and I‘m already here against my better judgment, I will.

Harrison: Oh my word, Mr. D…what could you possibly be talking about? Inquiring minds wish to know.

Mr. D: Do us all a favor and stop trying to play me, Harrison. It’s like I told Desmond last week…I’ve been manipulating people for ages…I know all the tricks…so it’s going to take a mind much greater than your own to get one over on me. You may have gotten away with twisting the perceptions of these people, and bending Orlando and Tay-Tay to your will….but I see through your little tricks. While Tomlinson and my Daughter were so drawn to the most glaring portion of that contract I presume that YOU faxed over to the Board…Desmond brought me the original document, and I’m a man who will take a magnifying glass to the fine print. The fine print under the header, ORLANDO CRUZE VERSUS THE CHAMP…

Harrison; No…please don’t Mr. D; Please don’t spill the beans….you might just get me in some trouble.

Mr./ D: Oh, believe me, Aaron, you’re already in a load of trouble as it is.…

Tay-Tay: Quit rambling and get on with it already.

Mr. D: This contract is not for ONE title match…but TWO.

Orlando’s head lowers and his eyes close, realizing that all the things he couldn’t say are now being uttered by a man he loathes more than Harrison. He really doesn’t respond well to Mr. D being the one to save him, but accepts the help nevertheless….not that he had a choice.

Mr. D: This contract does grant Orlando a World Title match, that much is true…but not at Upping the Ante.

Harrison twists his toes against the mats and lowers his head with hands interlocked behind his back, playing like he’s been found out and is about to get sent to bed without his dinner.

Mr. D: The title match at Upping the Ante, and all those ridiculous stipulations attached to it, has been saved for a member of the Blacklist….and since Mika Kozlov and Lukas Montgomery are both booked for that High Stakes tag match…another bout I don’t agree to….I’m assuming Aaron Harrison is the one who will be facing Taylor Chase…

Harrison: You assumed correctly.

Mr. D: Meaning it’s going to be Aaron Harrison versus Taylor Chase for the World Heavyweight Title at Upping the Ante…there’s nothing I can do about that. Though I really…really wish I could. And actually, I have to admit, it was kind of brilliant….

Harrison: And I would have gotten away with it too if it weren’t for you meddling Board members.

Harrison actually shakes his fist towards the heavens.

Mr. D: There…I came…I solved…now I kindly take my leave.

Mr. D turns to walk away…eagerly….but has to stop when Orlando calls out after him.

Orlando: Wait…wait…you’re not here to fire me?

A very perplexed Mr. D turns around, eyebrow arched, indicative of said perplex.

Mr. D: How many times have you been dropped on your head this week, Cruze? Your suffering worse concussion issues than all those you fail to protect on your roster. Which is one of many reasons the Board decided to put you on notice. THAT was our decision last week.

Orlando: Say what?

Mr. D: In spite of my attempts to help the Board see their colossal failure, that being placing you at the helm of this company…they decided it be better to give you time…time to steer the IWC back on track. But judging by what I’ve seen here tonight. The fact that your out here groveling for Taylor to crack your head with the cane…The repeated brawls over control of the show…Jacob Laymon coming out here and TRYING to fire people for no apparent reason….I think its safe to say that the Board has reached the end of its rope when it comes to you, Orlando. And if I were at HQ right now, I’d be pitching to assume control over this show, which I have no doubt they would agree to.

Though Mr. D wanted to clarify things he leaves everyone more confused than ever…especially Orlando AND Taylor Chase.

Dollar: So wait…wait…my brain is about to explode here…

Susie: That’s how I feel every second of every day?

Dollar: I thought it was posted over Twitter that Orlando was going to be fired by the Board? But Mr. D apparently knows absolutely nothing about it. He was just here tonight to reveal that the contract Cruze signed last week was for TWO title matches, and that Aaron Harrison is the one who will be challenging Taylor Chase at Upping the Ante for the World Heavyweight Championship. Am I getting this all right? There’s way too many moving pieces to put everything together.

Once again Mr. D goes to leave but Orlando just won’t let him go until ALL the questions have been satisfied. Though the more Mr. D speaks, the more questions Cruze seems to have.

Orlando: Hold it, Olek. You can’t just leave it at that. You have to give us some actual answers here. You’ve got to tell me why it was posted on Tw….

Harrison has had enough talking, and now its his actions that have everyone captivated. Into the ring he rolls and the Singapore Cane is snatched up before anyone can respond. Orlando rushes forward and gets smacked right in the ribs with the cane, taking him down instantly to the canvas as he curls into the fetal position. Now Chase is stepping in, not to brutalize Cruze but to help him. She dives at Harrison only to have him roll from the ring, escaping mere moments before he could be subjected to a heinous beat down by the vengeful spirit.

Dollar: And now Harrison has just taken out Cruze. He’s suffering a fate worse than being fired by Olek…though that still might happen given everything that’s went down tonight coupled with the Board’s lack of tolerance when it comes to Orlando’s inability to control this show.

Susie: And see, that’s exactly why I refuse to play with that toy.

Mr. D can’t help it, try as he may, he cannot stipend the grin that forms on his lips.

Mr. D: Ridiculous.

Finally he backs through the curtains and leaves before being swept up into the acrimony. Harrison is bringing it his way, stepping around the ramp and now finding himself off to the side of the stage, with eyes still locked on the ailing Orlando. Tay-Tay rubs Cruze’s shoulders and tries to get him out of the ring, some stage-hands leap into the fray, doing their best to assist Cruze.

What they really need…is exactly what’s provided as an ambulance crashes through the curtains off to the side of the stage. But it isn’t there to pick up Orlando, instead it seems intent on mowing down Harrison. Luckily for Aaron, he’s got cat like reflexes, diving out of the way just in time to keep from being run over.

Dollar: Oh God…that ambulance just tried to run over Harrison…but….ohhhh.

All becomes clear when the driver’s side door opens and out steps Christian Savior….wait…not steps…LEAPS. He dives right out of the driver’s seat and from his elevated perch he lands on top the now standing Harrison, hitting him with a huge clothesline.

Dollar: You can add another attempted vehicular manslaughter to the list of complaints the Board can use against Orlando. Christian Savior was behind the wheel of that ambulance, and now he‘s jumping the man he just tried to run down…

Susie: Looks like Christian ain’t waiting around for that ambulance match. Please tell me he’s going to let me play with the sirens…PLEASE!

Dollar: This chaos continues in just moments…Christian Savior versus Aaron Harrison, Ambulance Match….we HAVE to take a commercial break…hang in there…you’re not gonna want to miss this.

Harrison is back on his feet but ailing, just like Orlando, who is now being helped up the ramp by the Tay-Tay and a few concerned stage-hands.

The show returns live, not cutting immediately to the chaos in the ring but the blood that drips down the face of Katelyn Buehler. The camera is zoomed in upon the woman who just came so close to fulfilling her ultimate fantasy. But now here she sits, bloodied and broken…with nothing to show for her efforts, other than the huge gash in her scalp, and the mask of blood covering her face. Her location isn’t important, it’s her words, directed straight at the camera, that resonate.

Buehler: I went out there tonight, and I….I….fucked up.

Admitting it is almost as painful as doing it…reliving the botched Epic Fail that perhaps cost her the championship.

Buehler: I did exactly what Ethan said I would…I made a fool of myself….I embarrassed him…and I embarrassed this company….

Normally Buehler would break down into tears, but not anymore…she’s shed enough of them for a lifetime.

Buehler: What? Do you all expect me to sit here and weep? To cry like some little girl? Not happening. Not anymore. I’m going to take what happened to me in that ring, and I’m going to learn from it. If you think I’m done….that I’m giving up….that I’m going to hide under my sheets and listen to Mad World over and over again? Maybe Katelyn Buehler would have done just that. But I’m not Katelyn anymore…I’m a whole new animal. One that adapts…one that evolves. I’m going to be a far more proficient predator the next time I clash with Taylor Chase…and that WILL happen. I WILL face Chase again…and I WILL win the championship. Because as of this very moment….Katelyn Buehler….is going back to basics…I’m going back into training.

Porno Lad: Baby…Baby…I’m so sorry.

Into the fray rushes Porno Lad just as Buehler was wrapping up her thoughts.

Porno Lad: It’s going to be alright….

Before Katelyn can speak up she’s dragged into a big squeeze, Porno Lad stroking her hair.

Porno Lad: I’m here for you now. Just let it all out…just let it all out.

Katelyn: Ethan….

Porno Lad: Shh…shhh..shhhh….just cry…just let your tears do the talking. You‘ll feel so much better, and if that doesn‘t work we‘ll totally re-enact the pottery scene from Ghost later.

Katelyn: Ethan….

Porno Lad: And the Black Crusade…yeah…they’ll pay for setting you up…setting you up to fail.

Katelyn: So wait…you never thought I had a chance?

A grin stretches across Porno Lad’s face, overcoming his feelings about the way his tag match ended, and the way Buehler just humiliated herself.

Porno Lad: Come off it my little lovely lady lumps…Sure I may make it look easy to win the World Title, but it actually took a lot of work. Victories don’t come naturally to just everyone. But hey, if it‘ll make you feel better, I‘ll let you be my tag team partner at Upping the Ante…I can kind of carry you to a win that way…Just as I‘ve done so many others…

Katelyn: No Ethan.

Porno Lad: There…there…you’re too grief stricken and embarrassed to make sense right now.

Katelyn: I am embarrassed, Ethan…and I refuse to ever feel this way again.

She pries his arms away from her waist and pushes him back with palms to his chest.

Katelyn: And I’m not content to just keep riding your coattails. I will make my OWN success in this company….and I will do it by winning the World Heavyweight Title…

Porno Lad is more than a little surprised by her behavior, watching with wide eyes as she strolls around him to the door…one that leads to the office confiscated by the Motherfuckers. She doesn’t bother to knock, having absolutely no patience whatsoever. She pushes the door open and reveals Nathan Creed seated inside, still consulting with Xander Cassius, and Silencer. And before they can even look up to acknowledge her, Buehler steps in and pushes the door shut behind her. Just before it closes, we can see her moving straight towards Nathan Creed, head trainer for the New Age.

Porno Lad: Well fine then…I’ll deal with the Black Crusade myself, and I’ll reenact the pottery scene from Ghost by myself too.

TPKid: Seriously, Bro?

Porno Lad cringes as he hears the voice of the Trailer Park Kid emanating from behind his back, realizing that he may have just heard every syllable stated regarding the Original Prankster’s request to have Katelyn be his partner at Upping the Ante. A tense Ethan turns to acknowledge the man he promised an allegiance to mere moments earlier.

TPKid: I thought we had this all worked out. I thought we were going to be partners at Upping the Ante….I had your back tonight and everything… I even let a win slip through my fingers just I could prove I could be a mega-face like you….

Porno Lad: Shhh….shhh….shhhh…

Porno Lad drags TPKid into a big squeeze.

Porno Lad: There…there…Porno Lad’s here for you now. Just let it all out.

TPKid’s eyes shift, unsure how to process this inappropriate embrace. That same tense expression resides on Porno Lad’s face, employing the only tools of manipulation he has at his disposal, and hoping it’ll be enough to sway the Trailer Park Kid.

The fans are flipping out, not over what just happened backstage, but what’s occurring around the ring as Harrison is Irish whipped shoulder first right into the steel steps. They barely budge upon collision with Aaron’s body, and Christian gives him little to no time to recover, descending upon the man who dished out an equal amount of punishment on Rose last week.

Dollar: We’re back on Riot! Just before the break, and during it, absolute chaos broke out with Aaron Harrison and Christian Savior getting their ambulance match underway in some violent fashion.

MOMENTS AGO

The revelations of Mr. D are briefly high lightened before the video quickly transitions to a scene of Harrison just barely avoiding being run down by the ambulance. Ultimately his evasion of the hit and run, leaves him susceptible to Christian diving from the driver’s seat into the big lariat.

Dollar: Right before the break we got some SHOCKING news from Mr. D regarding that contract Orlando was FORCED to sign last week…and then Christian tried to run down the man who perpetrated not only the signing of said contract, but the vicious beat down on Savior’s wife, Rose. Aaron cost Rose the title, and boy is he ever paying for it.

Back to the match, as too much of it has already been missed due to the poorly timed commercial break.

Christian swoops in, grabs Aaron by the wrist and the back of his head and then whips him again, this time right into the barricade. Harrison turns and crashes spine first against it, leaning over the steel and looking absolutely lost, totally caught off guard by this brutality. Brutality that only continues when Christian rushes in and delivers a lariat forceful enough to carry both men over into the crowd.

Susie: Now the crowd gets to join in on the fun. I’m so going to hop in there too and crowd surf.

Dollar: I bet Harrison wishes he was crowd surfing right now, but instead Christian is taking him on an entirely different type of ride.

Referee Fitzpatrick shouts at Harrison and Savior…trying to maintain some level of control, but any semblance of sanity flew out the window hours ago. Christian completely ignores the stretcher positioned at ringside, far too captivated with beating down Harrison when there are no rules put in place to protect the Blacklist member, not that Christian would adhere to them even if there were.

Evident as Savior picks up a chair and swings it with enough force to crack Harrison’s vertebrae. Aaron staggers forward after the shot from the chair and then turns just in time to get his arms up to protect his skull as the chair is swung into his head rather violently.

In spite of putting his arms up, the chair still connects with enough force to knock Aaron back. This time a chair provides its ACTUAL function, Aaron falling into it and now sitting up as Christian comes barreling in delivering a diving lariat. Aaron flips over backwards, chair in all, rolling across the concrete to his knees as Savior picks up the steel he was just seated on and throws it with every bit of strength he has into the skull of his adversary.

Dollar: Jeez, by the time this match is over, it might actually work out to Aaron’s benefit that he was thrown into the back of an ambulance, he’s going to need one.

Nothing seems to be capable of extinguishing the flames of anger and intensity within Christian that have been ignited by the malice that Aaron and the rest of the Blacklist showed Rose last week. He snatches Harrison around the neck, drags him up to his feet and then snap suplexes him right over onto the concrete. Aaron’s back hits with force against the totally unprotected floor, prompting him to sit up and cringe from the pain.

But he hasn’t even begun to experience pain, not in Christian’s mind. The Rising Phoenix swoops in, takes Aaron around the jaw and leas him over into the front chancery. Eventually Christian’s plan becomes painfully obvious…emphasis on the pain part, as he’s about to spike Harrison on top of his head across the exposed concrete via an implant DDT.

Dollar: This might be going just a tad bit too far, Savior. Not that Harrison doesn’t have this coming…but really now…come on…your about to kill the man.

Susie: Pretty sure they didn’t show any sympathy to Rose…so why should Christian do it for Aaron?

Dollar: Does nobody follow the preaching’s of the Bible? Forgive and forget…

Susie: I thought that was Loni Love.

Dollar: Not that horrible talk-show…the Bible you idiot.

The back of Aaron’s slacks are grabbed as Christian begins to heave his rival into the air. Just seconds before suffering severe brain damage, Harrison shifts his weight and comes down to his feet, then wedges a shoulder to the Rising Phoenix’s ribs. He powers Christian backwards through the crowd and eventually slams him spine first into one of the walls just beneath the many balconies of the grand ballroom.

Harrison drags his rival backwards and then charges him into the wall a second time. The kidneys and ribs of Savior take a lot of punishment via this slam, but he still will not go down or be debilitated. Forearms connect with Aaron’s upper back, threatening to bring him down. As the Blacklist member works his way to his feet, he’s drilled to the jaw with a forearm that rattles a few teeth.

But Harrison shuts him down via a knee to the ribs, doubling him over and putting his skull in the grips of his opponent. Aaron charges him through the crowd and eventually throws Savior over the barricade, flipping him straight over. Christian tucks his head and actually rolls through as he collides with the mats, ending up right back on his feet. He then turns and dashes back at his opponent, only to be caught by Harrison leaping to the edge of the barrier then taking flight with a big flying knee strike.

The point of his knee nails Christian right to the forehead, at last putting the Rising Phoenix down. Aaron tucks into a roll of his own, ending up on his feet and in the driver’s seat, and unlike Christian, he will mow down his rival.

Christian is deposited in the ring, being the first person to enter it throughout the course of this very physical encounter. But Harrison isn’t about to step inside, not until he has an equalizer in hand, that equalizer being the ring bell he takes away from the time keeper.

Susie: Not fair…not only does Harrison get to play with the sirens on the ambulance, but now he gets to play with the ring bell too? I thought that was Lukas’ job by the way.

Dollar: Aaron exploiting everything he can use to his advantage. And he‘s going to have to considering how Christian has just been coming at him and coming at him and coming at him since this match began. Who would have figured Christian would have taken the mutilation of his wife so personally.

Susie: Yeah, take a chill pill and chillax Christian.

Dollar: I’m going to echo the sentiment of Taylor Chase and insist you NEVER use the word CHILLAX in my company again.

Susie: So now that’s been added to the banned list too?

Dollar: Yes…along with glitter, plushies, and shiny.

Susie: That’s 75% of my vocabulary.

Like a movie monster Harrison stalks his prey, sliding in and lifting the ring bell high above his head, but Christian will not be some big breasted coed with the acting abilities of Lindsey Lohan. He stands up with the Singapore Cane that was haphazardly left in the ring after being used against Orlando. Now it finds another use, being swung with a rib imploding force directly into Aaron’s mid-section. Harrison feels the pain he subjected the Icon to moments earlier, dropping the ring bell in the process. Christian then swings the cane with all his strength into Harrison’s upper back the moment he stands up.

The sound of cane to flesh echoes throughout the arena and reverberates throughout the bones of the monster. Harrison staggers forth into the ropes and eventually takes a spill through them, landing in front of the stretcher positioned mere inches from the edge of the ramp. He ends up leaning against it then turning around just as Christian comes barreling across the ring and hitting a baseball slide dropkick. Both boots connect with Aaron’s chest, sending him spiraling into the stretcher and spilling across it.

Dollar: Christian has got Aaron on the stretcher and now he has to put him in the back of that ambulance.

Susie: As if Christian even cares about the rules…and as if I actually understand them. Neither one is a possibility.

Aaron is sprawled across the stretcher, eyes fluttering as he fights to remain conscious. Christian doesn’t make it any easier on him as he begins to scale one of the turnbuckles, reaching the highest elevation imaginable.

He steadies himself and spends absolutely no time playing to the fans before he goes airborne, connecting with a huge flying top rope splash onto Harrison and the stretcher.

Dollar: Christian taking flight and crushing Harrison!

Susie: He might have achieved better flight had he some magical glit…

Dollar: No…no…no, we just covered this. If you keep it up, I’ll have the words Tommy Wiseua banned as well.

Susie: You monster!

A rousing ovation is heard from the crowd at the sight of Christian going for broke, but cashing in huge via that diving splash that has apparently left Aaron immobile. Savior is hurting too, but the rage that compels him is enough to overcome his pain, evident as he grabs the stretcher and begins to drag it around the ramp in the direction of the parked ambulance. Someone had the common sense to come out and turn the ambulance around so that the back doors now face the ring, making it a little easier for the competitors to load their opponents inside.

Dollar: So much for not appreciating the rules, Christian clearly realizes as much, evident as he drags Harrison on that stretcher towards the ambulance. That‘s stage one of this…But Aaron isn‘t through just yet.

Aaron rolls off of the stretcher and falls to his knees at about the half way point. Savior then turns around and once he’s taken a few steps and realizes that the load has gotten so much lighter. Once spotting the kneeling Aaron, Christian takes the stretcher and pushes it with all his strength, shoving it right along into his rival.

Harrison just gets up with the edge of the stretcher is rammed into his ribcage, doubling him over. Christian keeps pushing the stretcher along until they reach the ring and Harrison finds himself squished behind stretcher and apron, sandwiched hard between them. Christian then climbs up and crawls across the cot, delivering right hand after right hand after right hand to the face of the trapped Harrison.

Christian will not stop until he sees blood ooze from Aaron’s face, leaving him just as bloodied as the now former World Heavyweight Champion.

Christian: How’s it feel Aaron…..how’s it feel to suffer you son of a bitch!?!

Another big right to the scalp almost has Aaron going down but he’s not going very far considering that he’s still wedged between stretcher and apron. Christian realizes this, standing up, stepping on top of Aaron’s face and using it to get back into the ring, slipping through the ropes then approaching the Singapore Cane. A weapon Christian is all too familiar with…a weapon he saw Rose use to great success when it came to capturing the World Heavyweight Title.

With the weapon in hand and murderous intent, Christian descends upon Harrison but has no idea that Aaron has scraped his way out from between his sandwiched position and is back on the apron. Christian’s rage blinds him to the fact that he’s walked right into Aaron’s trap. Harrison sticks his head under the ropes, under Savior’s backside and then stand sup, back dropping Christian over the top rope and back first onto the stretcher. Savior collides with the cot with unbelievable force.

Dollar: HOLLY SHIT! BACKDROP from the ring, right onto that stretcher.

Harrison shows a surprising amount of flexibility as he steps off the apron and onto the nearby steel steps and then actually flips back into a moonsault across Christian and the stretcher. Another loud pop emanates from the fans, amazed by this devil may care demeanor and appreciating the high risk shenanigens of Harrison.

Aaron rolls away, grabs his ribs but pushes through the pain, realizing that he’s got Christian trapped. To ensure that the Phoenix will not rise, Aaron takes one of the straps hanging from the side of the stretcher and places it across Christian’s throat. He tightens and tightens the strap until it’s actually strangling the Rising Phoenix.

Dollar: Yet again, Harrison is using everything he can get his hands on to punish Savior in some unique ways.

Susie: Christian is gonna need a turtle neck to hide these bruises.

The strap is pulled to the point where Christian’s head is about to pop like a pimple. He kicks his legs and tries to drag the strap away from his throat, his face turning bright shades of blue. That resistance ends when Harrison puts an elbow between his eyes, and then delivers a second bionic elbow variation to the face of his adversary. He then grabs the handles of the stretcher and tugs, pulling it around the ramp and towards the ambulance. There seems to be nothing that Christian can do to escape the stretcher, tied down completely. This doesn’t stop him squirming in a failed attempt to free himself.

Dollar: Harrison’s getting him closer and closer to the ambulance and there seems to be nothing the Rising Phoenix can do to stop it.

The stretcher with Christian loaded on top of it is now just inches away from the ambulance, Aaron turning to grab the back doors and begin prying them open. Before he can push the doors ajar, Christian pulls the strap away from his neck and turns. He stands up on the stretcher and dives off right into the upper back of Harrison, hitting a double axe handle that brings Aaron down to a knee.

Dollar: Savior fighting off Harrison’s attempt to put him into that ambulance, but just barely. Aaron ALMOST had the doors open and was seconds from tossing him inside.

Susie: But there’s so much to play with in the back of that ambulance…so many fun toys.

Christian grabs hold of the back of Harrison’s head and slams him face first into the hard steel doors of the ambulance. He bounces off and turns, falling seat first upon the running board with his back propped against the door he just rammed into. With his opponent prone and in perfect position, the Rising Phoenix backs up, taking position with both hands wedged to knees.

Dollar: Oh no…he’s not gonna…he’s not gonna…

Susie: Dance the Macarena?

Dollar: That would be a thousand times worse than what I think he’s actually setting up for here.

The fans eagerly anticipate what they’re about to witness, watching with captivated eyes as Christian bolts across the concrete and dives into the Bloodline Spear. But at the last second Aaron sidesteps and shoves Savior along face first right into the back door of the ambulance. An indentation of his head is left in the steel thanks to the high impact collision. Christian bounces off hard, grabbing at the huge knot forming on his skull.

Susie: Why did Christian just spear the ambulance? It didn’t deserve that.

Dollar: I doubt the ambulance was his original target…but God did he ever hit it with some force.

Savior looks like he just got shot out of a cannon, on dream street and suffering some Freddy Krueger related nightmares. But the only boogeyman he has to worry about, is the one grabbing hold of his knees, lifting them up and pinning them under his armpits. Harrison looks back at the ambulance doors and then drops in reverse, catapulting Savior through the air, arm and ribs first against the steel.

Dollar: Ahhh that was nasty.

Susie; Nastier than the Macarena?

Dollar; Maybe not that nasty.

The steel reverberates around Savior’s body before he twists into the stretcher, falling over it chest first. It appears that Aaron could have the win, victory within his grasp, but he’s got other plans. He approaches the one of the many tech stations around the stage and grabs hold of a steel chair that one of the A/V guys were seated in. Wisely he cleared out of the way the moment Aaron entered his vicinity. The chair finds its way into Aaron’s grips as he now approaches the front grill of the ambulance, climbing up on top of it. He ascends from hood to roof of the ambulance and then rushes across it before diving off, sticking the chair under his armpit as he flies towards Christian, looking for a chair assisted elbow drop. And he keeps on looking, because Christian moves out of the way just in time.. As a result Aaron falls into the stretcher and bangs up his elbow for nothing but the indulgence of his masochistic impulses.

Susie: Why did Harrison just elbow drop the stretcher?

Dollar: That wasn’t….not even going to indulge this stupidity.

Savior crawls towards the ambulance while Harrison crawls towards the stretcher, employing it to reach his feet. He just gets up, stooped over the stretcher when Christian leaps into the air, catches him around the neck and pulls him down into a diamond cutter on the steel chair and the stretcher.. The cutter connects with just enough force to send Harrison staggering zombie like right into the back of the ambulance, falling into it shoulder first in order to keep himself propped up.

Dollar: And the cutter connecting, that very move that helped advance Rose through the World Title Tournament at Awakening.

It takes all of Christian’s strength, but he actually lifts up the stretcher and sends it flipping towards Harrison. The stretcher crashes right into Aaron, crushing him between it and the ambulance.

Dollar: The stretcher continuing to play an instrumental role in the destruction of Harrison.

The stretcher collapses and Harrison falls side first against it. He then rolls away, body absolutely mangled by the repeated collisions with the stretcher and the ambulance. Wisely, though no normal human being should be capable of thought at the moment, Harrison crawls away from the ambulance, putting some distance between it and himself.

Savior doesn’t let him get very far, grabbing his ankle and dragging him towards the back doors of the ambulance. He reaches out, grabs the handle and begins to open one of the back doors, getting it ajar just a few inches before Harrison wedges his feet to Christian’s ribs and shoves him backwards into the ambulance.

Christian slams against the steel that he’s collided with over and over again, and now falls on top of the running board. He actually lays across it, looking almost vegetative. Harrison then stands up with the aid of the stretcher and comes stumbling in only to have Christian stand up and deliver a swift boot right to his inbound rival’s jaw.

Aaron almost goes down but Christian keeps him up so that he can take the back of his head and ram it into the back of the ambulance. Aaron collides hard with the steel then turns, finding himself in the same position Christian was in moments ago, seated on the running board, the only thing propping him up.

This position allows Christian to move in, grab him by the throat with both hands and begin to strangle…strangle with all his strength. Aaron kicks his legs and swings his arms, trying to fight off the overly aggressive Savior, but to no avail. The only thing that stops Christian, is Christian himself. He stops choking Harrison in favor of employing another weapon to ensure the destruction of his adversary. He approaches the steel chair, snatching it up off the stretcher and then employing it to ensure Harrison’s destruction.

He rushes across the concrete with chair raised above his head when Harrison suddenly reaches out, wrapping his arms around Christian’s waist and drops back, belly to belly suplexing him right into the back of the ambulance. An upside Savior slams with incredible force against the steel, body ricocheting off and collapsing to the concrete amongst a rousing holy shit chant from the fans.

Dollar: Oh good GOD! Savior belly to belly suplexed right into the back door of the ambulance!

Susie: Thought he was gonna be thrown right through it.

The audience continues to audibly gasp and start in with a rousing ‘holy shit’ chant at the sight of Savior’s perilous slam against the ambulance, which leaves him stretched over concrete. He struggles, in vain it seems, to get back to his feet, but doesn’t get very far before Harrison steps in and delivers a swift kick right to the ribcage of the man who has delivered such punishment on him throughout this bout.

Aaron then grabs the back door of the ambulance, which is all dented up and begins to open it when a forearm cracks him to the upper spine. The fans are going absolutely nuts at the sight of Orlando Cruze pouncing on the Blacklist member.

Dollar: ORLANDO! Orlando Cruze is back out here and he’s on Harrison…he’s finally getting his hands on the man who has caused him so much suffrage these past few weeks.

Susie: Get him Cruze…GET HIM!

Forearms, punches, kicks, every limb is used by the Icon to inflict punishment on a shocked Harrison. Aaron throws a punch of his own only to have it blocked and for the Icon to deliver a kick right to his ribs, doubling him over. Orlando then nails him under the jaw with a European Uppercut and begins to drag him back towards the ring in a side headlock.

Orlando: You’re not calling the shots around here bitch! You hear me!! You think you’re in control? You’re not…YOU’RE not in control of jack-shit!

Punch after punch after punch is delivered to the face of Harrison, absolutely pulverizing the man before he’s taken by the wrist and whipped right into the side of the ramp. He collides shoulder first with the wall, and sticks to it like a poster. Orlando now looks to make him as flat as said poster as he charges at Harrison and dives into a splash only to have Aaron step out of the way. Orlando crashes into the wall and leaves an indelible impression of his body in it. He doubles over, already suffering the ill-effects of that cane shot from mere moments ago.

Dollar: Orlando finally getting physical with Harrison…he’s been waiting for weeks to get his hands on Aaron, and now he’s taken full advantage of it….ohhhh….no….he missed that splash completely!

Susie: What did the wall do to Orlando to…

Dollar: SHUT IT!

Cruze then steps away from the wall just as Harrison snatches up the steel chair from the concrete and swings it right into Orlando’s forehead. A vile reaction is heard from the crowd due to the loud collision of steel to skull, and many actually wail at the sight of Orlando being taken down by Harrison, surprisingly supporting the Icon in his attempt to annihilate the Blacklist.

Dollar: And a shot right between the eyes with that chair…Harrison has waited equally as long to get his hands on Cruze…ever since he came into the IWC actually, he’s made it apparent that he wants Orlando…he wants to leave him lying alongside the bodies of all the other IWC talents that the Blacklist have taken out thus far.

Susie: But he didn’t get his hands on Orlando, he hit him with a chair.

Dollar: Now your just splitting hairs.

Susie: But Orlando doesn’t even have hair to part.

Dollar: Stop being so damn literal.

Apparently the annihilation of the Blacklist will not happen tonight, as Orlando lays at the feet of Harrison, who is still holding the mangled chair in hand. The distraction Orlando provided, proves costly though, as Harrison has dropped his guard against Savior.

The Rising Phoenix steps up behind Harrison, grabs him by the shoulder and spins him around only to have the chair swung with the force of a bullet fired from a gun right into the Rising Phoenix’s skull. The chair actually breaks around Savior’s head, hanging around his neck like a noose. This chair-shot, coupled with the belly to belly into the ambulance, seems to have finally done the trick, taking the fight right out of the Rising Phoenix. He tumbles to his knees, rocking back and forth but somehow remaining upright as Savior approaches the stretcher.

The cot is raised into the air and thrown aside, revealing that a taser has been taped under it.

Dollar: Uuuuuuh-ooooooohhhh. Harrison had this all planned out. Christian may have commandeered the ambulance but Harrison already had a taser planted on the stretcher before that happened.

Susie: This one-upmanship stuff is so much fun.

Dollar: What WON’T be fun is what Harrison is about to do with that taser. But why is he busting it out now? He’s got Christian primed to toss in the back of that ambulance? This is pointless.

Susie: Do you think he cares at all about winning this match, Johnny? If you do, obviously you don’t know the Blacklist that well.

The electrical current can be seen shooting across the taser prongs as Harrison slowly approaches the many bodies littering the concrete as a result of his brutality. Though Orlando grabs him by his belt and throws a weak right hand into his hip, the Icon will have to wait his turn, because Harrison steps away then closes the gap with a hard thrust kick right to the Icon’s temple. The stiff kick takes Orlando to the ground with Harrison leaning down over him.

Harrison: Don’t worry. You’ll get yours next.

With a smirk on his face Aaron approaches the defenseless Christian, grabbing him by the bangs of his hair and pulling back on his head to fully expose his face. Aaron wants there to be no obstruction between the taser and the eyes of the Rising Phoenix.

Harrison: Your wife put up more of a fight than this, Christian.

The taser sparks as it inches towards Christian’s face.

Dollar: No….he’s not going to do this…he’s not going to do this…..

Savior’s pupil dilates and Harrison’s smile widens just as the lights in the building go out.

Dollar: Seriously? Not now…not now! Of all the times for another power outage.

Susie: At least we don’t have an announce table for someone to pop out from under.

There is a pop, but not due to teleportation. A feint light can be seen on the Cartel-tron, which is slowly revealed to be static. The camera pulls back slowly to bring a full television monitor into view, one that sits on the floor and is not of the new school flat-screen variety. No, this is straight up O-G…

A figure in nightgown crawls towards the television and ends up resting on her knees mere inches from the television. Though her back is to the screen, its evident that we’re seeing that same mysterious woman who has made so many unusual appearances throughout tonight’s telecast.

Yes…uh-huh…

She seems to be speaking directly to the television, as if hearing voices emanating from amongst the pixels and distortions.

She goes a step further, reaching out with her palm and trying to make physical rather verbal contact with the mysterious entities within the television. The spine-tingling intent of this video is achieved as the fingers tentatively approach the monitor. Just before the fingers connect with the screen, something strange…as if this wasn’t already weird enough…begins to happen. Images actually start to take shape amongst the pixels and the static…images of Kellen Jeffries writhing on the canvas as his flesh burns….this is followed by a shot of Denile Partis being hung…As if that last image wasn’t ghastly enough, now the crowd is forced to relive a shot of the loading bay door coming down right on top of Dwayne Rodriquez’s throat….the final clip features a blood soaked Rose Savior lying stretched across the arms of Christian.

The television cuts off and instead of scenes captivating the crowd, it’s sounds…the sounds of giggles…the giggles of the lady seated on her knees and getting an up close view of the monitor. Slowly…ever so slowly…for totally dramatic purposes…she turns her head around to stare through the cartel-tron and address everyone who may be watching. Her hair is at last pulled back from her face to reveal the smile of….Robin Brooks.

Heeeeeeeee’s heeeeeerreeee.

The lights in the building return to normal and just before Aaron can bat an eye…pun intended… the back doors of the ambulance fly open and diving out of them comes Hurse. The place comes unglued as Hurse flies right into Harrison.

Dollar: No friggin way!

The whole building is shaking as Hurse lands on top of Harrison, both men going down to the mats with the eye patch wearing Parkwood on top. He is delivering right hand after right hand into Aaron’s face, the former World Champion absolutely pulverizing the man who tried to take his career away from him….the man who had the depravity to take a taser and all but kill his right eye.

Dollar: This is unbelievable. Hurse is back…he’s back and he’s here for revenge on Harrison. The man who took his right eye with that taser!

Susie: I’m so excited I have goosebumps.

The back of Aaron’s head is rammed against the concrete repeatedly by Hurse, until some blood actually begins to ooze from Harrison’s skull. The crowd may be pleased to see Hurse, but quickly realize that this isn’t the happy-go-lucky, perpetual man-child that endeared himself so to them over the years. A radical transformation has taken place within Parkwood, the impetus being the loss of his right eye. But it looks like Hurse is trying to cost Harrison so much more.

Hurse continues to drive the skull into the concrete before he drags Harrison away from the concrete, dragging him towards the ambulance and bashing his skull off of the running board/bumper. Harrison stands up, glassy eyed, looking to be on dream street. H turns around as Hurse nails him to the jaw with a right, and another right, and another and another and another. Everything about Hurse’s onslaught seems to be absolutely primal, bound and determined to mutilate Harrison, worse than he himself has been mutilated.

He then backs up to get a running start before charging right into a boot to the skull, Harrison somehow having the wherewithal to defend himself. Hurse is staggered but not taken down, he steadies himself then rushes forward only to be caught with that same side kick to the jaw that put Orlando down.

Dollar: But even Hurse can’t turn back the tide of Aaron Harrison and the Blacklist. There truly is no one who can stop these people…who can stop this man.

Hurse falls into the stretcher, using it for support as Harrison steps in to finish what he started on the former World Champion. Hands inch towards Hurse’s hair when the lights in the building again start to flicker.

Dollar: AGAIN!?!

Susie: Are their rats eating through the electrical cords around here or something?

The flickering and brief camera issues…a few bars appearing running up and down throughout the screen…ends when Mr. Gaunt appears standing on top of the ambulance, palms cupping the handle of his cane and head titled towards Harrison down below. Aaron detects the change in the crowd’s tune, prompting him to look up and spot Gaunt standing above.

Just before he can fully react Hurse stands up and puts the taser Aaron dropped, right against the number one contender’s back, positively electrifying him.

Dollar: Mr. Gaunt…Mr. Gaunt distracting Harrison long enough for Hurse to use that taser…And he’s shocking Harrison until his hair goes white.

The crowd is nowhere near as stunned as Harrison, who somehow still possess the ability to stand upright, and clings to what little consciousness he has left. His eyes remain open, just barely…but enough to see the ambulance doors bursting open again with Legion, the N.H.B Champion standing inside. He reaches down, palms the top of Harrison’s head like a basketball and places him in a Von Erich style claw.

Dollar: Mr. Gaunt has summoned Legion…and he’s literally got a handful of Harrison.

Orlando and Christian regain their consciousness long enough to grab both of Harrison’s legs and hoist him up into the air at the same time Legion is hoisting him up into the air via the claw. All three men collaborate in throwing Harrison into the back of the ambulance. The dazed Christian and the equally as banged up Orlando grab the ambulance doors and swing them shut, trapping Harrison inside.

Dollar: It’s over…heavens to Bettsies it’s finally over…Aaron Harrison at last put in the back of that ambulance….Orlando, Hurse, and Legion interfering to make sure Harrison finally got his comeuppance.

Savior slaps the back doors of the ambulance, which begins to take off, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Mr. Gaunt remains surprisingly stationary on top of the ambulance even as it takes off to the backstage area. The Rising Phoenix falls to his knees, running his hands through his sweaty hair and the knots on his forehead, still shivering as he watches the man who mangled his wife taken away via ambulance. Orlando is in much the same state, watching as the man who manipulated him for so many weeks, in an attempted to ruin his life, is driven from the Manhattan Center, ensuring he’ll have no further influence on the show and on Cruze’s career. And Hurse, he’s watching too, but not the ambulance speeding away, instead he has his eyes…an eye…on Orlando. Finally Curze turns around as Hurse mouths something to the Icon just loud enough to be heard.

Hurse: You need a partner next week….you’ve got one.

The fans cheer at the thought of Orlando and Hurse teaming together for the first time in an IWC ring to square off against Aaron Harrison and Frankie Paradise. The two former World Champions turn to acknowledge the departure of the ambulance with Harrison trapped inside with Legion, and Gaunt standing on its roof.

Dollar: Words cannot even begin to describe…just wow…that was positively bonkers…

Susie: They finally brought down Harrison…

Dollar: But this…this isn’t over…Aaron is still the number one contender for the World Championship, and Taylor will still have to defend the title against him at Upping the Ante with her hands shackled behind her back.

Peace has at last been restored…as all these men, Legion, Savior, Orlando and Hurse, four individuals who positively loathe one another, have united to bring down the greater threat, Aaron Harrison.

The Brod: What the fuck are you doing! STOP!! STOP!!!

There is all kinds of commotion backstage, the camera almost falling over as the operator tries to keep up with a frantic Broderick Chase. The reason for his distress becomes evident when the camera finally balances out long enough to spot Frankie Paradise standing at the end of the hallway, his back turned to the camera with his black leather jacket wrapped about his body and his boots wrapping around the body of Taylor Chase. The World Champion slides down between two crates, trying to use them to stay upright as Frankie continues to rain down upon her with punches and stomps.

The Brod: You son of a bitch…what’s wrong with you!?!

Just before The Brod can come to the aide of his daughter, Frankie opts to tuck tail and run. Dropping his designer shades as he reaches down to snatch up the World Championship belt. He throws it over his shoulder and takes off down the corridor, never turning even once to address the Brod or the camera.

He leaves Chase ailing, trying her best to pull herself up but unable to bare any weight after competing in two matches tonight, and then being subjected to an assault from a man she thought she could trust. The Brod looks equally as betrayed, glancing between the ailing Chase, and the fleeing Frankie.

The Brod: That bastard..that fucking CHUMP!

The enraged Brod is ready to blow his lid…really wanting to pursue Frankie, but instead bending down to check on the condition of his traumatized daughter.

The Brod: He’s not getting away with this. YOU HEAR ME!?! Daddy is gonna take care of that piece of slime.

Foam threatens to foam at the corners of the Brod’s mouth as he turns to see the camera looking down at him.

The Brod: Get out of my face!

His massive palm swats aside the camera lens, reducing everything to static.

Ice is wedged to the shoulder of Kathryn Pearson as she sits on a flight of steps somewhere in the backstage area, clearly ailing as a result of the brutality inflicted on her by the Blacklist earlier this evening. The pain doesn’t prevent her from being able to pick up a cell-phone, dialing a number and speaking between grinding teeth.

Kathryn: Hey…it’s me…I need you…

She waits for an answer, one that brings a slight smile to her face.

Kathryn: Can you get here in time?

A sigh of relief, followed by a groan from her mangled shoulder.

EARLIER THIS WEEK

Silence: Legion would like you to reconsider your choice of romantic settings. This place. It‘s no good. No good at all. License plates and posters of deceased celebrities on the walls does not create the type of vibe your going for here. You won‘t win over your damsel with draft beers and bad Mozzarella sticks.

The masked femme demonstrates her point as she pulls the tip off one of said Mozzarella sticks and extends the cheese out between her hands, letting it droop towards the table below.

Whitman: But I always heard Americans raving about Applebees. It seems to be an institution.

Silence: No….anyone who brings a date here would have to be institutionalized, my Dear.

Whitman: Erm…I think you’re hardly one to infer that others need to be committed.

Silence pays little attention to his retorts, far too captivated with wrapping the string of cheese oozing from the stick around her finger several times.

Whitman: Besides, I wanted Lois to be in her element…to not feel so out of place. And perhaps show her that this limely British chap could adapt to the American way of doing things.

Silence: My dear Percy, you just don’t get it do you.

The last thing Whitman expected, was to be listening to relationship advice from Silence, but the huge draft beer he sips at seems to help him deal with this sad truth.

Silence: If it weren’t for your little British quarks, you would be about as interesting as a soapy sponge.

Whitman turns his sip into a chug, no longer adhering to decorum.

Silence: Woman enjoy the company of men who are different, who think outside of normal American idioms and tropes. The exotic.

Whitman: Oh…is that why you’re so infatuated with Mr. Gaunt?

Silence at last lives up to her name, looking away and brushing hair behind her ear.

Silence: Mr. Gaunt possesses something you do not….A truly magnetic personality.

Whitman: Ah.

Silence: And your relationship is the one under the microscope, dear boy, so let’s stay on subject, shall we?

Whitman: Gladly.

Silence: Woman dig accents…Whitman…which is why you should enhance instead of hide your many British colloquialisms and euphemisms.

Whitman: Okay.

Silence: We naïve woman have this terribly inaccurate stereotype of foreign men…believing that somehow their accents and peculiar behaviors are charming rather than annoying, and that they know more regarding romance than traditional American males. See, women, especially those in the Western hemisphere, really are idiots, and we can be easily swept off our feet by the slightest mispronunciation of the word ‘tomato.’

Whitman: Ha…you say it so humorously…it’s to-mar-toe.

Silence: Or Lieutenant.

Whitman: You daft girl, it’s Lef-ten-ant.

Silence: My point exactly.

Whitman: So then, I should play up my heritage.

Silence: Yes..otherwise you might shatter the preconceived stereotype Lois has of you. As I eluded to earlier, women are inclined to believe that men from across the pond are better suited for romance. So you need to enforce that stereotype, and do it by bringing her to a place a bit more upscale than Applebees.

Whitman: Do you mind if I ask you something?

Silence: Ewww…I‘m intrigued.

Whitman: I wish to know why the Black Crusade has taken such a vested interest in the state of my love life.

She finally breaks off the end of the cheese from the deep fried shell it was encased in.

Silence: I’m not one to question Mr. Gaunt…he has reasons for everything he does. So when he tells me to assist you regarding wooing Lois….I do what’s told.

Whitman: So you don’t even know why you’re doing this?

Silence: Nor do I care to know why.

Whitman: Fair enough, I’m just concerned regarding your ulterior motives.

Silence: I’m sure we only have your best interest at heart, Percy.

Whitman: Forgive my impudence, but I have trouble believing that. Woman do not give me romantic advice very often, the last one who did was my Mother.

Silence: Oh, you need to stop that.

Whitman: Stop what?

Silence: Referencing your Mother.

Whitman: But the dear lady means the world to me. It’s my desire to keep her perpetually happy that has made me the successful, good natured gent I am this very day.

Silence: Yes, Mr. Gaunt is quite aware of this. But Mrs. Prince need not here constantly about your Mother. Woman are engrained with this self deprecating stigma that a man’s first true love is his mother, and that we could never live up to their standards.

Whitman: Ah…

Silence: Plus you need to shave that THING from your upper lip.

Whitman becomes uncharacteristically angry, his face transforming from bashful to begrudged.

EARLIER TONIGHT

P Clarence Whitman III strolls through the parking lot of the Manhattan Center with shades over his eyes and his wheel mounted baggage dragged along behind him. The X-Class Championship rests over his shoulder and bogs him down slightly as he proceeds towards the locker-room.

Comeau: Mr. Whitman…Mr. Whitman…

Mark Comeau, flash in one hand, microphone in the other, steps out from behind the camera to catch Clarence right before he could fully enter the building. He trails behind Whitman, who doesn’t stop to acknowledge the interviewer.

Comeau: Hey Whitman…do you have a moment?

Whitman: I know what your questions are regarding Mr. Comeau…and before you have the chance to waste your breathe, I’ll tell you right here right now, I am NOT teaming with those lunatics this evening. Whitman and…ummm..that lunatic fringe will not be acting in accordance with one another…yes…there will be no such camaraderie. Not after the ruining of my date with Lois, and the inhuman comments Silence made regarding my…

With a tear in his eye and a quiver of his lip, Whitman reaches up to pet his mustache.

Whitman: I must take my leave of you, Mr. Comeau…but not before saying it again…I will NOT team with those deviants this evening. I’ll take a pay cut if necessary…as I have the funds to recuperate potential losses. Now if you’ll excuse me.

Through the doors Whitman marches, officially entering the building and officially making his stance regarding the potential Clarence, Black Crusade team up known to the world.

The stage lights turn red, blue, and yellow and all pant up and down as “Hero” by Skillet begins to play. The screen shows some slow motion MMA clips of Xander Cassius knocking people out mixed with black and white clips of him pointing to the sky on walking on the beach.

From the back walks Xander, wearing heavy duty red and black athletic shorts along with a black shirt with a red and gold cross printed on the front and his name on the back. His hands are covered with MMA style gloves.

Cassius steps to the center of the stage and drops to his knees and bows his head as to give a short prayer. After a few moments he jumps to his feet and starts to pumps the fans up and he makes his way to the ring. A slight smile is on his face as he slaps the hands of the fans. He rolls under the bottom rope and runs to the far corner. He jumps to the middle rope, pulls his shirt off revealing the many tattoos on his body, and throws the shirt to the fans.

Dollar: Wow…hard to believe we still have so much left to come tonight after everything we saw just before the commercial break…including yet another theft of the World Heavyweight Championship…this time by the man Xander Cassius is about to face here this evening…but ummm, why?

MOMENTS AGO

There are clips of the shaky camera, and the furious Broderick charging into come to the aid of his bludgeoned daughter. Though we don’t get a very good glimpse of his face, the jacket and sunglasses are enough to clue the viewers into the fact that Frankie Paradise is the one doing the mugging on the woman he claimed to love.

Dollar: As you can see, Frankie, for God only knows what reason, completely blindsided Taylor Chase and whisked away with her World Championship. But something tells me The Brod isn’t going to let him get away with this quite so easily.

Susie: He looked mad….

Dollar: Great follow up as always, Susie. But another man who may be quite upset with Frankie, is this gentlemen, Xander Cassius. Who has to be furious with the fact that Frankie worked with the Blacklist last week. A group that Xander is hell-bent and determined to crush. Guilt by association is going to haunt Frankie here tonight.

Xander is all worked up, especially after his earlier interaction with the Blacklist. It appears his ribs are still bothering him regarding that assault from the baseball bat, but he’s looking to push through it in favor of getting his hands…his feet…whatever he can on Frankie tonight. The anticipation doesn’t last long because….

The eyes all focus on the stage as King Zero by Drowning Pool hit’s over the P.A System. The crowd get to their feet and start to boo as Frankie Paradise confidently struts out from the back wearing his wrestling attire along with trademark leather jacket with his name emblazoned on the back. The Los Angeles Native spins around and points to his back with one thumb, because his other hand is occupied by a briefcase holding the Evolution title..

Jessica: Ring Announcer: “Ladies and Gentleman, hailing from Los Angeles, California. He weighed in tonight at 180lbs – FRAAAAAANKIEEEEE PAAARRAAAADDIIISSEEE!!”

Paradise looks at the nearest camera hyped up after the introduction pointing to himself.

Frankie Paradise: “YEAH BABY! WOOO! Who’s your daddy, the EVOLUTION CHAMPION is bitches!”

He then begins to confidently walk down towards the ring as the female fans scream amongst the mixture of boo’s. Once he reaches the bottom of the ramp he stops and smirks before approaching one female fan in the front row and leans in pointing to his cheek, but just before she can get kiss it he moves away and laughs leaving her heartbroken as he rushes to the squared circle. He throws his briefcase into a corner before crawling in himself.

Just as Frankie slides into the ring, Xander is right on top of him, swooping in and delivering a big buzz saw kick right to Frankie’s chest. Paradise winces from the pain and has no time to recover before Xander moves in and delivers a second kick, and then a third, crushing the sternum.

Dollar: Xander pouncing on Frankie right from the get go….that’s not surprising…but what is shocking is the fact that Frankie hasn’t brought the World Championship out here with him.

Susie: No, but he did bring that glorious head of hair.

Xander wraps hands around the back of Frankie’s head and begins to deliver knee strike after knee strike to the face of his opposition, hitting them repeatedly to the skull of his adversary.

Cassius finally stops using his legs and starts employing his fists and arms to inflict some damage. The knees cease in favor of delivering some swift and vicious knife edge chops. Frankie is all out of sorts, falling into the ropes as Xander moves in and hits ANOTHER knife edge chop…followed by a third, each one more devastating than the last.

Finally Frankie lifts his hands into the air, calling for a time out but getting none. Cassius takes him around the neck and snap mares him over to the canvas before delivering a big kick right to the lower back.

Paradise arches his spine, rolls to his side and TRIES to get up only to be caught around the neck, snapmared over a second time and then hit with a second big kick between the shoulder blades. The stiff strikes have Frankie twisting and writhing across the canvas. He desperately tries to put some distance between himself and Cassius only to receive a running kick right to the chest from Xander who sprung from the ropes in order to deliver the move.

Wisely Frankie rolls to the exterior of the ring, trying to put some space between himself and Cassius, but Xander is all fired up and he needs to unload on someone…anyone associated with the Blacklist. He storms towards the ropes and slips through them to the apron when Frankie reaches out, desperately grabbing his foot, trying to pry out from under him.

Xander, using his leg strength, kicks Frankie off and sends him twisting into the barrier, falling against it for support. Cassius then steps to the apron and launches himself off into a double axe handle that connects right across the top of Frankie’s forehead.

The collision brings Paradise to his knees, leaning against the barricade just long enough for Cassius to come barreling in and sandwiching his skull between the steel and his knee-brace.

Dollar: Have we ever seen Xander so motivated? I mean, he normally goes in there and does all that ass kicking garbage we’re accustomed to, but tonight he looks more motivated than ever to beat up on Paradise.

Susie: Maybe he wants the big sparkly for himself, and he’s going to beat its location out of Frankie Paradise.

Cassius drags the prone carcass of Frankie to his feet and continues to be pure smash mouth, driving a tooth mashing forearm into Paradise’s mouth, followed by another, and then another. The tremendous fro of Paradise is taken and employed to lead him back to the ring, where he is rolled in under the ropes. The master manipulator ends up on his elbows and knees, fighting his way up to his feet when Xander comes rushing towards the ring, springs to the apron and then leaps over into a flying shoulder block. It connects directly to Frankie.

Dollar: Paradise just can’t get out of the blocks here.

Susie: I’m not allowed to play with blocks anymore…they kept ending up lodged in my throat.

Dollar: Another revelation that fails to surprise me.

The fans are now starting an outdated ‘woop that trick’ chant directed at Cassius, who is beating Frankie like he was his hoe. Cassius is about to put Frankie out on a street corner, but Paradise will no longer be slapped around like a bitch, employing every tactic imaginable to protect himself, including grabbing referee Fitzpatrick and employing him as a human shield. He grabs the official’s pudgy mid-section and drags him into the way to form a barricade, that for a moment derails Cassius.

Xander tries to get around the referee but Frankie has the official in a bear hug, scooting across his knees every time the referee turns. Fitzpatrick tries to turn around to shout at Frankie, but he’s still being gripped way too tightly, totally incapable of pulling a 180, or 360…any type of turn whatsoever. Xander has seen enough, he steps in and delivers a straight buzz saw style kick right to the interlocked hands of Paradise, causing the fingers to break apart and for Fitzpatrick to begin chastising Cassius for getting dangerously close to catching him in the crossfire.

Frankie flails his phalanges through the air after having them kicked so violently, before Xander steps in and swings around into yet another roundhouse kick, this one aimed at Paradise’s huge head. Surprisingly Frankie has the wherewithal to duck and then roll to the outside of the ring, avoiding the strike and avoiding any further physicality from Xander.

Dollar: Frankie really, really needs a breather. Someone give the man a towel and a spittoon.

Frankie looks simultaneously shaken and stirred by Cassius’ unique blends of strikes and dives, thus far having no answer to them. Suddenly Xander takes off across the ring and drops into a baseball slide, going for a second ropkick to catch Frankie off guard. But this time its Xander who falls into a trap, Frankie lifting the tarp into the air and trapping Cassius’ legs beneath it. Xander falls down to his feet with his lower half stuck under the tarp, preventing him from delivering any kicks and leaving his upper torso susceptible to the rapid fire forearms, punches and chops by Paradise, who is throwing an absolute physical tizzy on the MMA brawler.

Dollar: Frankie has had enough and he’s absolutely unleashing it all over Cassius…he’s beating the holy heck out of this man after pulling an unorthodox counter using the tarp/ Guess you got to work with whatever you’re given.

Susie: Just like I have, using my HUGE..Monstrously huge brain.

Dollar: I really…really would comment on that sentence..but it’s just like shooting fish in a barrel.

Susie: Another startling truth is revealed…you’re just determined to have PETA all over our asses.

A steel chair is taken from Jessica Wilde, who seemingly can never get comfortable at ringside. It is then set up on the mats and Frankie charges at it, stepping off in order to launch himself into a leg first lariat against the prone Xander’s chest. Cassius is driven back first into the apron, causing him to slouch down over the tarp, which seems to be the only thing holding him up. Paradise slides into the ring and reaches through the ropes, taking Xander around the chin and pulling back on it, so that Cassius’ upper back grinds and presses hard against the apron.

Cassius tries to rip the fingers from away from his jaw but Frankie breaks the hold of his own accord. He then stands up and leaps into the air while holding the top rope, flying over and adjusting in mid-air so that he connects with a leg drop across Xander’s throat, driving the back of his neck and his head into the apron.

Dollar: WOW…ANOTHER impressive move by Frankie, I don’t know where he pulled that one out of.

Susie: I’m guessing somewhere deep within his anal cavity.

Dollar: I don’t think everyone perpetually has something lodged in their anus like yourself, Susie.

After hitting the move that wows and surprises the peeps, Frankie rolls through the ropes and insists that Fitzpatrick carry on with his ten count, having no qualms with winning this match via count-out. And that seems to be the inevitable at this point, as Xander hangs limp over the tarp, eyes rolled to the back of his head.

Fitzpatrick: 1-2-3-4-5-6…

Xander finally begins to turn around, slowly pulling himself up with the aid of the ropes, trying to climb onto the apron.

Fitzpatrick: 7.-8-9…

The ten count is beaten at the last second to much fanfare, Xander rolling back in under the ropes. One person who isn’t celebrating is Paradise, who looks like he’s about to shit a kitten at the sight of Xander getting back into the ring.

Frankie: Bullshit!

He grabs Fitzpatrick by the shirt and spins hima round, slapping his palms together furiously.

Frankie: Who the fuck did you learn to count from….Count Chocula?

Before the official can even give an answer, he’s blown off.

Frankie: You’re useless as your facial hair is shitty.

Fitzpatrick grabs his beard and whimpers as Paradise passes him by, stepping right into an open hand palm strike across the chest. A blood red indentation is left on his chest from the hand of Cassius. But Frankie will not be deterred, hoping he can continue with his offense. So he grabs the back of Xander’s head and throws a knee right into his face, stopping Cassius’ onslaught before it get started.

Paradise then grabs Cassius by the jaw, holding his head up and slowly retracting his fist.

Frankie: Prepare to suck my fingers bitch,,,…just like Tay-Tay’s gonna be sucking my toes later tonight. Well…maybe not in the same way…but you get my point. Ya’ know, this really isn’t all that menacing when I have to explain my threats to you.

Xander: No…no it isn’t…

Frankie: Just know this is gonna hurt.

Frankie spent way too much time defining his threat, his inbound fist caught by Xander, who uses the arm to drag his opponent down to the canvas in a valiant attempt to get the fujiwara applied. But that’s all it remains…an attempt…cause Frankie rolls right through, gets to his feet and charges at the kneeling Cassius, throwing another knee at his jaw. This time Xander is able to slip around the knee, turn his back to Frankie, stand up, catch him by the armpits and drag him down into the backslide.

Frankie rolls right through once again, dropping over onto his knees, but this falls right in line with what Xander was planning. He immediately swings around one of the arms he hooked and leans back, applying a textbook and incredibly painful fujiwara submission hold.

Dollar: And this time Xander DOES get the fujiwara locked in…Frankie’s gonna have to submit…which might be best for him…because then he can get the hell out of here with the title.

Susie: He better let me put some glitter on it first dammit.

A submission seems all but a certainty due to Xander’s superb submission mastery, getting the fujiwara applied at such an angle that it makes escape impossible. Frankie lifts his palm into the air, ready to slap the ring and confirm the suspicions of every fan in attendance, who speculated that Cassius was closing on the submission.

Though Frankie was never one to make the peons happy…no…he lives to agitate those who have harassed him so viciously since his debut in the IWC. So he wedges his knees to the canvas and tucks his head forward, rolling across the canvas to escape the fujiwara. To the shock of everyone, Frankie moreso than anyone, Xander rolls right along with him and the two end up in the exact same position, Paradise still trapped in the fujiwara.

Dollar: Frankie tried to counter but he’s still trapped…he’s still stuck in this hold….and Xander, the MMA specialist demonstrating that there is no escape once he gets a submission locked in.

Fitzpatrick knows that this match is a foregone conclusion at this point given the fact that Xander is dug in like a tick, and isn’t letting go until he hears the submission. Therefore the official drops down right in front of Paradise, pleading with him to just give up. Frankie not only refuses but reaches out and grabs the official’s wrist, but not in an attempt to free himself. Instead he lifts Fitzpatrick’s hand into the air and begins to slap it repeatedly against the canvas

Susie: This is the worse attempt at patty cake I’ve ever seen.

Dollar: What in the hell is Paradise doing?

Before everyone can begin properly questioning Paradise’s actions, all becomes clear…or clearer at least…when Xander breaks the fujiwara, hearing the canvas being slapped behind his back and automatically assuming that Paradise just tapped out. He has no idea that it was Fitzpatrick’s hand hitting the canvas.

Dollar: Wait….this…this is brilliant. Paradise just used Fitzpatrick’s hand to slap the canvas and trick Xander into thinking it was him tapping out. Cassius just broken the fujiwara because he thought he won this match.

Susie: Still the worse patty cake ever.

Cassius is so convinced that he’s won, he’s actually on his feet celebrating, arms raised high in your classic victory pose. He fails to realize that the bell hasn’t chimed, and isn’t clued into this fact until Fitzpatrick hops in his face, insisting that the match is NOT over, informing Cassius that it was HIS hand that tapped, and not Paradise’s.

Dollar: That’s right Xander, you were fooled…you were played like a fiddle.

The crowd is absolutely disgusted that Xander fell for Frankie’s tomfoolery, and it even seems to have bamboozled the ringside staff, as the time keeper shouts into the ring, inquiring as to rather he should ring the bell or not..

Fitzpatrick can’t believe he has to explain this…sticking his head through the ropes and shouting at the time keeper while behind his back Xander is looking to punish the man who just made him look so foolish. He rushes straight towards Frankie, who is busy crawling away and into a corner…the very corner where the briefcase presumably holding the Evolution Championship belt is placed.

As soon as Cassius grabs hold of Frankie’s hair, and begins to pull him back into the center of the ring, Paradise turns and rams the briefcase right into his opponent’s jaw. The case bounces with force right off of Xander’s chin, sending him down to the canvas like a sack of potatoes.

Dollar: And Frankie capitalizing on all the confusion he just set into motion in order to bash Xander right to his jaw with that briefcase!

Susie: I wonder if it tastes like candy.

Dollar: I think the only thing Xander can taste right now is the blood pocketing in his mouth.

Though his brain isn’t functioning all too well at the moment, Xander rolls to the center of the ring and instinctively tries to get up but doesn’t get very far. He falls to his back once again, in perfect position for Frankie, who throws aside the briefcase just as the official turns around, then slips through the ropes to the apron, springs to the top cable and connects with that lethal springboard shooting star press. El Paradiso connects and knocks all the air right out of Xander’s body, right along with the last strains of fight.

Dollar: That briefcase shot followed up El Paradiso…Brilliant…absolutely fucking brilliant. I never thought I’d say that about a man with highlights in his hair, but I just did.

Both legs are hooked and Frankie is once again bitching at Fitzpatrick to make a quicker count.

The official gets his ass in gear, dropping to the ring and slapping it to a horrendous outcry of despair fro the crowd.

1

2

3!

That’s it…Frankie has just manipulated his way to another victory.

Dollar: I’m blown away…absolutely blown AWAY…Paradise using some true cunning in order to first trick Xander into believing that he submitted by using the hand of Fitzpatrick to tap the canvas, THEN, he uses that briefcase while the official’s back was turned trying to clear up all the miscommunication over the finish. This guy has come along way in a very short period of time.

Susie: He’s smart…that might explain why his head is so freakishly huge.

Paradise has no interest in celebrating, at least not until he has the briefcase back in his possession. The Evolution Championship finds its way into the clutches of Paradise, who cradles it to his chest and rocks back and forth with a huge smile on his face, cackling like a harpy over its prey. Frankie is absolutely tickled pink that he so masterfully pulled off this victory when it seemed all but a certainty that he was going to submit.

Now that he has his precious briefcase holding the Evolution Championship clutched to his bosom, Frankie insists that Fitzpatrick come in and raise his hand in victory so he can bask in the spotlight of his victory.

Dollar: This man deserves to have his hand raised, now do it, Fitzpatrick, do it right now!

Begrudgingly Fitzpatrick steps in and grabs Paradise’s wrist, lifting it into the air…Just as the crowd makes a unanimous gag noise at the sound of Frankie’s smile….their reaction changes from the sounds of vomit, to the sounds of surprise, as they spot The Brod storming towards the ring, looking to be in a highly emotional state.

Dollar: The Brod is back…and he said he was going to take care of this situation on Tay-Tay’s behalf. He’s out for some retribution on the man who just assaulted his daughter backstage.

Susie: I wish my Dad would defend my honor like this…but the Harlem Globetrotters are always too busy on the road to spend much time raising me.

Dollar: I would beg for a further explanation, but I really…really shouldn’t.

At first Paradise looks happy to see The Brod, automatically assuming that he’s come out to celebrate alongside him, but once he sees that Chase isn’t clapping, that his fists are clinched, and his eyes burn with hostility, Frankie’s happiness subsides.

The Brod rolls in and instantly Frankie pulls Fitzpatrick in the way…AGAIN! The official brushes the hands away form his shirt and storms out of the ring, refusing to be employed as a human shield. Instead he becomes a human crutch, rolling to the outside to hold Cassius up, Xander still suffering some concussion like symptoms after having his bell rung by the briefcase.

Frankie: Whoa…whoa….whoa…BRO…slow your roll.

The Brod has no intention of holding anything back, wanting to tear Frankie’s arms and legs off like he was an annoying insect. But Frankie is able to hold him at bay momentarily, by way of grabbing a mic from Jessica and playing upon the Brod’s better judgment.

Frankie: What’s your problem? You look like you want to go all Incredible Hulk on me or something, Chief. You should be out here patting me on the back, not wanting to punch me in my face. If it wasn’t for me, your little Pumpkin wouldn’t be the World Champion right now…

The Brod snatches Frankie’s wrist and pulls the microphone to his lips.

The Brod: The hell she wouldn’t you little shit! My girl has more talent in the tip of her nose than Rose has in her entire stick thin body….But yeah…you helped her out last week…which I was going to applaud you for…until it all became so clear to me. The reason you helped her win that title…is because you wanted to set her up, to get the championship just close enough so you can take it from my baby girl. Your worse than Orlando…your nothing but slime…

Frankie: Whoa…pump the breaks Brod! I worship the ground your daughter walks on. Seriously man, I’d throw rose petals everywhere she walked if I wouldn’t get cited for littering. Where’s all this hostility coming from.

The Brod: Don’t play stupid with me, Boy. You know damn well what you just did…what this was all about. Since day one you, and Orlando both have been playing my daughter, using her talents to accomplish your own selfish goals…and I’m not going to stand here and take it anymore. I’m not going to let you treat the apple of my eye like some piece of meat.

Frankie: Are you crazy? I would never…NEVER…objectify your daughter. And I would never stand between her and success. It’s like I said last week and here tonight. All I’ve ever wanted to do is what’s best for Tay-Tay. And if you don’t believe me, let me prove it right now.

He pries his wrist away and steps back, holding up the briefcase mere inches from the Brod’s face.

Frankie: I’m not just some creep trying to use Tay-Tay…and to prove it…I’m willing to give her what’s inside of this briefcase. If that doesn’t show you what I really think of your Pumpkin…I don’t know what will.

For once the Brod thinks instead of reacting out of sheer paternal instinct when it comes to defending his daughter. He steps back and lets Frankie take center-stage, actually believing that Paradise could be on the verge of truly doing the right thing by forfeiting the Evolution Championship to his little girl. The selfless act is on the verge of being completed as Frankie pops the latches on the case and lets it fall open.

Frankie: That’s right, I got this just for your daughter, and she’s gonna look oooh so good strutting around in it.

His sentence trails off when both he and The Brod watch the leather whips, gimp mask, and lingerie spill out of the briefcase to the canvas below. Its not the only thing that falls, because so does Frankie’s jaw, having no idea how all these kinky sex objects got into his briefcase, replacing the Evolution Championship belt that was there mere moments ago. Before he can even try to piece together an explanation his mouth is shut by via a closed fist delivered by the Brod.

The briefcase falls to the canvas right alongside Frankie, who tries to cover up as The Brod crawls on top of him, delivering punch after punch after punch to the perverts face.

Dollar: This just backfired big time on Paradise!

The fists continue to connect with Frankie’s skull as he desperately tries to cover up. The Brod only stops punching in order to grab the leather whip that just spilled out of the briefcase.

The Brod: This is what you bought for my Daughter…THIS…you sick little freak!

The whip is not used in the way it should be,, instead of lashing Frankie’s backside, it’s wrapped across his throat, The Brod pushing down on it in order to strangle him.

Tay-Tay: Stop it…stop it…PLEASE DADDY!

The World Champion rushes down the ramp holding the back of her neck in the process, still stinging from all the physicality she’s participated in throughout the night. She slides into the ring and jumps on her Father’s back, forced to physically pry him away from Paradise.

Dollar: What are you doing Tay-Tay? You should be joining in on this beat down, not stopping it.

Susie: It could be the ultimate father, daughter bonding experience.

It takes all of Tay-Tay’s strength, but she’s finally able to drag The Brod off of her would-be suitor. Frankie gasps for air and scrambles across his rear-end into one of the turnbuckles, sitting there wide eyed and dropped jaw, absolutely stunned by…in his mind…this totally unprovoked assault.

The Brod is just as stunned…by the fact that his little girl intervened to save this son of a bitch. He spins around to get some answers, all the while pointing to the lingerie spread over the canvas.

The Brod: How can you defend this pervert? Look at what he did to you backstage…and look at what he had planned for you…

Tay-Tay: Come off it, Daddy, you’re smarter than this….We’re totally being played here.

This insinuation hits the Brod like a bullet in the intestines.

The Brod: What?

Tay-Tay: Don’t be an idiot, Frankie wasn’t the one who attacked me back there….It was all a set-up to get you to do exactly what you just did…

Suddenly it becomes clear, The Brod realizing that the one chink was discovered in his impenetrable façade…his love for Tay-Tay being the one weakness exploited to get him to lash out without thinking things through clearly.

The Brod: Who played us?

Tay-Tay: It was…it was….

She can’t even bring herself to say his name…but that problem is solved when she spots the very culprit eavesdropping from the balcony, his leg thrown over the guardrail

Tay-Tay: That bastard right there!

The Brod whips around, following the finger pointing straight into the smiling face of Silencer.

Dollar: It’s Silencer….he…he…just bamboozled us.

The leather jacket…the briefcase in one hand…and the World Championship over his shoulder…yep…the evidence is beyond incriminating…no jury on the planet would require a second of deliberation.

Dollar: Silencer gets retribution on Paradise for setting him up last week under nearly the exact same circumstances, but more importantly, he now has BOTH the Evolution AND the World Heavyweight Title belts in his possession. This is sticking in Taylor‘s crawl big time…especially the fact that her own father was pulled into the middle of all this by that manipulative bastard Silencer.

Silencer: Ohhhh Tay-Tay…oooooh Frankie…the two of you really should be more careful with your possessions.

The briefcase is raised holding the Evolution Championship inside, and the World Title is held up in the other hand.

Silencer: To teach you both to respect your property…I think I‘m going to keep hold of these for a while.

This proclamation is met with a rousing ovation from the crowd…many of which now chanting Silencer’s name.

Silencer: But maybe I‘ll give them back, once either one of you have managed to…SILENCE…ME!

The opening rift to Silencer’s entrance theme tears through the building as Silencer steps back into the sea of humanity. The fans are slapping his shoulders and embracing this rare opportunity to truly get up close and personal with Simon. He not lets them cop a feel but even gives them a few presents, putting Frankie’s very own leather jacket over the shoulders of a hot, presumably underage girl.

Dollar: Just when I was about to give all the credit in the world to Frankie for being such a master manipulator….here comes Silencer to rain all over his parade.

Susie: How can there be a parade without elephants, and clowns…well…clowns of the less lecherous, creepy variety.

Dollar: Silencer has taken the Evolution Title….he’s taken the World Title…and he’s taken Frankie off his pedestal and brought him crashing right back down to earth.

Frankie doesn’t take this revelation all too well, gnawing at his lower lip and watching as Silencer swings the briefcase containing the Evolution Championship in a windmill fashion. Surprisingly Taylor Chase doesn’t look too upset by what the disgusting sight of Silencer holding her World Title, and instead begins to grin.

Tay-Tay: You have no idea, Silencer…you have no idea…hahaha.

We’ve seen ambulances…we’ve seen stretchers…so why not take things one step further…and introduce a body bag into tonight’s proceedings. A body bag that is loaded on top of a dolly. A body bag that thrashes and writhes, someone obviously trapped inside. But there seems to be nothing the captive can do as Brittany Lohan pushes it along upon said dolly, Cassidy Haze occasionally kicking at the sack.

Cassidy: I do believe Tay-Tay was right when she said that this would be a necessary evil.

Lohan: Tay-Tay always thinks two steps ahead.

Cassidy At least she gave us an easy task tonight. Wasn’t hard finding this bloated turd.

Lohan smirks even at the juvenile insult, riding an emotional high with her protégé at one side, and her mentor at the other. Plus the trio have just accomplished their mission, tracking down their prey with relative ease.

Cassidy: Do you mind holding up? I’ve got to grab something.

Lohan: I’d advice making it quick. Silencer is going to realize something is amiss soon enough.

Cassidy: Should be just a second.

She skips off in the direction of the woman’s locker-room while Lohan stoops down, crouching over the body-bag, stroking the head of whomever is trapped inside. She slowly unzips the sack to reveal the face of Bob, his mouth stuffed with an apple like he were a pig about to be slow roasted. And who knows…that may actually be what happens tonight given the bizarre behavior of Lohan and her student.

Lohan: Don’t worry honey, we’ll have you out of this sack soon enough. Just need it to sneak you out of the building, and then once we reach the car you’ll have all the ham we promised you.

Bob spits out the apple and nods with a giant smile on his face.

Bob: Bob likes ham…you big NICE.

Lohan: Yes…we know that dear. And if you ever want to eat ham again, or see your precious Mnooses…you’ll do as told.

Bob: Don’t you dare touch Bob’s Mnooses…..you big MEAN.

The smile is replaced by legitimate distress.

Lohan: That won’t be necessary, as long as you follow instruction. Understood?

Bob is forced to play along, given his love for the poor defenseless Mnooses. Therefore he opens his mouth and lets Lohan put the apple back inside before zipping up the body-bag.

Mary: I shudder to think of what Tay-Tay is going to make Silencer do to get you back.

Whitman: I think that’s a very intelligent decision, Mr. Creed.

Pearson: I can’t disagree with Mr. Rogers here.

Cameras open right in the midst of an agreement being reached that at last placates the X-Class Champion, P Clarence Whitman III, and one of the potential challengers for his title, Kathryn Pearson. The two stand on opposite sides of Nathan Creed, who has assumed the role of not only peace keeper, but acting as President on behalf of the Motherfuckers. He sits on what use to be Orlando Cruze’s desk….the throne of power…regardless of rather or not Orlando is still acting president…which may or may not be the case after the events of tonight’s telecast. For now at least, while Orlando’s fate is up in the air, Nathan will run the show…a role he seems surprisingly adept at.

Nathan: So we’re all in agreement. Tonight…it’s NOT going to be a six person tag team main event. Instead, what we’re going to see is a four corners tag team tornado match. The Blacklist consisting of Mika Kozlov and Lukas Montgomery, versus the Black Crusade, consisting of Silence and Mr. Hush, versus Kathryn Pearson and a partner of her choice, and P Clarence Whitman III and a partner of his choice. Everything good?

Whitman: Cheers…but I still want an addendum allowing me to wear a fire proximity suit.

Nathan: Don’t press your luck, Whitman.

Whitman: You do realize these people set others ablaze more than an adolescent Drew Barrymore.

Nathan: Just go and find yourselves partners.

Pearson: Way ahead of you.

Attention is purposely drawn to the cell-phone, Kathryn jingling it with her one good arm. She keeps her banged up shoulder curled to her side, which mirrors Nathan’s injured shoulder,. This might explain why he was so eager to please Kathryn, as the two shared a similar fate this evening, all thanks to the Blacklist.

Nathan: What about you, Whitman?

Whitman: Ummm…do you have any plans this evening?

Nathan: Did you think this out clearly before you made the demand to change dance partners?

The X-Class Champion cringes.

Nathan: Yeah….get on that. You have just under about five minutes.

He glances at the clock on the wall, which draws so much closer to the top of the show. As thus Whitman is off and running, desperate to find himself a tag team partner for what will now be a four corners tag team match this evening. Kathryn walks away with a smile on her face, proud over how this night will turn out, now having a partner she’s sure she can trust to have her back…whomever that might be.

Once they’re out of the office, Nathan makes himself truly comfortable, sliding into the leather chair behind his desk and kicking back.

Nathan: Ahhh…I can get use to this…

He leans back and interlocks hands behind his head, getting relaxed just as the door flies open and through it steps the last person in the world he wanted to cross paths with again. Jackson Adams frowns in the direction of his long time nemesis, Nathan Creed, but nevertheless approaches the acting figure head.

Adams: Where is he?

Nathan: Nice to see you too, Jacky Boy.

Adams: Cut the shit…where is he!?!

Adams leans over the table with his knuckles wedged to its surface, getting menacingly close to Britain’s Finest athlete.

Nathan: I presume you’re talking about Cruze.

Adams: I asked you a God damn question…Do I have to fucking Hellen Keller it for you? WH-ER-E ISSS OR-LAN-DO!?!

Nathan: Short answer…I have not a clue.

Adams slaps the table top.

Adams: That’s not good enough…I want answers…and I want answers right now!

Nathan: Well then I suggest you find Orlando.

Adams: He owes me an explanation for the shit he‘s put me through….

Nathan: WHOA….ho…ho…ho!

A laughing Nathan just can’t help but to put Jackson in his place, even if it means unintentionally coming to the aid of Cruze.

Nathan: Seriously? You have the audacity to complain about being given a title shot after you’ve sat on your ass and done nothing for the past month?

Adams: I’m not bitching about my title match…I’m bitching about that month I was FORCED to sit on my ass for no good fucking reason.

Nathan: I hardly think having a concussion counts as no good reason to sit at home….

Jackson blinks his eyes awkwardly, but not because of post concussion syndrome.

Adams: Hold on…time out….what the fuck are you talking about?

Nathan: Did you really get hit THAT hard on the head?

Clearly judging by the expression of confusion on Jackson’s face, he needs a better explanation.

Nathan: You seriously don’t know what I’m on about, do you?

Adams: Ummm, nooooo….seeing as I never had a fucking concussion.

Nathan: Wait…what do you mean?

The migraine Adams is suffering from right now makes it feel like he’s suffering a concussion.

Adams: Jesus Christ…can I say it any clearer? I NEVER HAD A CONCUSSION!

Nathan: So why were you acting the way you did at Awakening?

Adams: Because I was drugged you idiot! I have the blood test to prove it and everything. And I assumed that was partially why I was forced to watch from the sidelines the past few weeks, being forced to pay penance for someone else’s crimes.

Nathan: Soooo…wait a minute…wait a minute…

The migraine seems contagious.

Nathan: Why does Orlando think you had a concussion?

Adams: Am I Kris Angel? Am I a fucking mind reader? Hell no! How would I know why he’s been lying his ass off about me having a concussion? I haven’t a clue what he would have to gain from it.

Nathan: Well that’s just it…

Creed falls back in the chair with interlocked hands raised to his lips.

Nathan:…he wouldn’t.

Into the dimly lit locker-room struts Cassidy Haze, descending upon her stuff already forced into a gym bag. She unzips it in order to pull out a string of hair, twirling it through her fingers.

Hello gorgeous….

The hairs on the back of Haze’s neck stand on end. She turns slowly in order to acknowledge the presence of none other than Damion Sommers, seated comfortably in the woman’s locker-room, wearing pig tails in order to go incognito.

Damion: I didn’t think you were ever going to show up.

It hurts every inch of his anatomy to stand up from the bench, propping himself up with the use of a few lockers. Obviously he’s still suffering the ill-effects of the multiple drops on his head delivered by half the roster earlier in the evening. Nevertheless, even though it aches every portion of his body to so much as take a step, he shuffles across the room towards Haze. Naturally Cassisy is fishing the blade out of the back of her ring gear, holding it at the ready.

Haze: Damion Sommers!

She shouts with elation.

Haze; What do you want?

Any pretense of elation fades at the drop of a hat

Damion: Oh I’m just here to bask in the light of your beauty, Pumpkin Pie.

The moment a hand falls on his shoulder, Cassidy flicks out the blade, yet keeps it hidden behind the small of her back.

Haze: Awww…how sweet.

She responds with affection.

Haze: Now why are you really here?

Any pretense of affection fades at the drop of a hat.

Damion: I’ve been watching you lately, Pooh, and I’ve enjoyed what I’ve seen. Which is rare, because I don’t get enjoyment out of most things. Something about you…just…just inspires me though. Which is why I think we’d make the perfect pair.

Haze: Hmmmm…are you asking me out? I’m not a cheap date.

Damion: Oh, we’re well past the dating portion in our relationship. In my mind we’ve already been on a hundred dates, and in my dreams, we’ve gone a lot…lot further.

Haze: Thanks for sharing.

Damion: So I say we take this to the next level.

Haze: Damion, this is so sudden. You haven’t even met my Parents yet.

Sommers lifts one of her hands into the air and plants a kiss on the back of her knuckles.

Damion: Cassidy, will you let me be your tag team partner at Upping the Ante?

Several deep breathes are taken by Cassidy, who drops her knife in favor using her other hand, the one not presently being kissed by Sommers, to fan her face.

Haze: This…this…this is so….I’ll have to think about it.

Damion: Absolutely. I’ll give you all the time you need.

The psychologically seductive Sommers backs away from his muse, who swoons upon going back to her bag. She is going through her objects before feeling a tap on the shoulder, prompting her to spin around to come eye to eye with Sommers.

Damion: Have you made up your mind yet?

Cameras shift back to Johnny Dollar and Susie Moore, who silently stew after the last few pieces of footage have been provided, reflecting on everything they’ve witnessed thus far tonight.

Susie: Awww…it looks like Cassidy Haze may have just found herself a partner. Those two would make such a cute couple…in the totally disturbing, psychotic sense.

Dollar: Indeed. This whole tag team title situation is just as twisted as what’s going on with the World Title…let’s go back and show you what happened a few moments ago here involving the sordid situation which unraveled before our very eyes involving Frankie Paradise, Silencer, The Brod, and World Champion, Taylor Chase.

MOMENTS AGO

The obligatory recap is provided to offer an abbreviated version of the pre-commercial scene that unfolded, showcasing Frankie trying to ward off the Brod with a briefcase that he THOUGHT was holding the Evolution Championship. Instead a bundle of S&M gear comes pouring out, leading to a violent response from the Brod, pummeling Paradise with a lethal barrage of fists.

Dollar: Frankie tried to win The Brod over with that briefcase Gavin Taylor and Adam Chase stole from Axl Evermore last week…but apparently Silencer pulled a switcheroo with the briefcases when he snatched Frankie’s sunglasses and leather jacket earlier tonight. And as a result, Frankie ended up offering The Brod some…well…gear you’ll only see Cassidy Haze and Damion Sommers enjoying.

The footage continues with Tay-Tay dragging The Brod off of Frankie, and then the quarreling trio having a stare-down with the man who put them all at odds with each other, Silencer. He stands on the balcony and holds up the briefcase containing the real Evolution Championship, and in the other hand he clutches the stolen World Title belt.

Dollar: And then Frankie and the Brod were clued into the elaborate rouse that was pulled on them by Silencer, who took off with the World Heavyweight Title and the Evolution Championship. But apparently Taylor Chase knew this was coming, because she had Brittany Lohan, Cassidy Haze and Typhoid Mary pulling the first case of Bobnapping we’ve ever seen.

The video cuts to another, this one featuring Bob in a body bag being snuck from the building by the vicious trio of ladies.

Dollar: Bob taken by Lohan, Haze, and Mary at the behest of Taylor Chase, who knew Silencer was up to something..and didn’t for one second believe that Frankie Paradise was the one who assaulted her backstage.

From the beautiful yet brutal trio backstage the video segues to the affluent and the absurd pair seated behind the commentators table.

Susie: Well at least the show is almost over…and things couldn’t possibly get anymore twisted at this poin….

Dollar: Hold that thought, Susise, and I’m surprised you’re actually capable of having one by the way….

Susie: Yeah, and my head didn’t explode or anything…I’m just as surprised.

Dollar: Before we get off the topic of the Tag Team Title situation at Upping the Ante…

Susie: I thought we already did.

Dollar: I have a proposition of my own I’d like to make to either of the challengers for the Tag Team Titles. But instead of employing words, I think it be smarter to use THIS brilliant piece of cinematography I spent the better part of an afternoon putting together on my home PCU.

This coming “Upping the Ante”, there promises to be a lot on the line. And with such high stakes, such as bringing tag team champions into the mix, don’t you want a strong and dependent person to bring such greatness?

Johnny Dollar, the richest man in SCW and IWC. A man of wealth and integrity.

A man not afraid to fight for what he believes in.

A man for you and a man for all of IWC.

A man who isn’t afraid to voice his wishes on tag team title gold.

Johnny Dollar for Porno Lad’s partner at Upping the Ante. The richest man. The richest choice. Richest…period.

Paid for by the Million-Dollar Corporation and The Bottom Dollar.

The intro to “Enemies” by Shinedown doesn’t get the kind of pop anyone would particularly care to hear, unless your really into self deprecation. But Lukas Montgomery and Mika Kozlov are above the hate, the heckles, the harassment, acting with indifference to the insults thrown their way as they embark towards the ring to compete against three teams who are out to absolutely crush them mind, body and soul.

Dollar: Yeah baby, that was absolutely breathtaking…wasn’t it…wasn’t it? You gotta admit that was the most amazing piece of footage you’ve seen since an accidental clit shot of some sexy teenage actress.

Susie: You can’t even cite an example?

Dollar: You’ve seen one clit, you’ve seen them all. But we’re about to see some entirely different types of shots taken here tonight, as the six person tag match we were promised has now been transformed to a four corners match, the Blacklist about to go at it with three separate teams all in a valiant effort to claim dominance headed into that High Stakes match at Upping the Ante.

Susie: There have been so many changes made tonight its near-on impossible to keep track of everything.

Dollar: Hence the ear-mic..Susie…all hail the might ear-mic giving us all the information we’ll ever need. Such as this little tid-bit. Earlier tonight the Blacklist proved they were damn near unstoppable, but will they have the same luck when that bell rings and it actually matters? They’ve got three teams out to crush them this evening, what with the Black Crusade…consisting of Mr. Hush and Silence…P Clarence Whitman teaming with…whomever….and Kathryn Pearson teaming with…whomever…

Susie: Whomever is gonna have their hands full tonight.

Mika and Lukas look unconcerned regarding whomever their opponents will be tonight, still operating under the belief that they’re controlling things this evening, and not a soul can oppose them…especially not anyone participating in this match.

“Miseria Contare” by AFI…it plays just as two unique sigils flash on the screen, a one eyed crown of jewels and halo taking precedence. Mr. Hush and Al Todd-Meriweather of the Black Crusade are out first, with the Black Crusade butler swaying rhythmically to the music and Al shouting at the Blacklist from the stage.

Al: Prepare for a sound thrashing, you beef-witted-apple-johns!

Silence steps to the stage at this point, adding an intimidation factor that Mr. Hush slightly lacks due to his flamboyance. She strolls forth at a methodical pace, gazing back and forth, keeping a weary eye ever vigilante.

Dollar: Mr. Hush and Silence about to compete for the very first time in an official capacity. We’ve seen them both get very physical in the past few months, during that N.H.B Title match at Awakening…AND…Mr. Hush has repeatedly gotten into fisticuffs with PCW3, hence why Percy got a bug up his ass and requested to have another partner this evening.

Susie: I had a bug up my butt too, but that got cured with some Lindane Shampoo.

Dollar: Hence why my chair is scooted so far away from your own. Well, these two have proved they’re more than capable of brawling, but how will they wrestle against the likes of the Blacklist and so many others tonight in their first official match…which also happens to be their first main event.

Wisely the Blacklist has vacated the ring, watching and joking at the expense of Mr. Hush and Silence, an odd pear if there ever was one. Mr. Hush makes an even greater scene via rolling to the outside, leaping the barricade and then pulling some streamers out of his pockets, he throws them over the ropes right at Silence, one of them hitting her in the upper back. She spins around and presumably frowns beneath her mask at Mr. Hush, who instantly points to a chubby child at his side.

“Rip Out the Wings of a Butterfly” by HIM blares through the speakers and to the stage steps Kathryn Pearson to a massive uproar from the crowd. She smiles at their warm reception but instead of heading towards the ring amidst this toasty response, she pauses, not embarking towards the ring until she gestures for someone to follow suit and make their own grand entrance.

Dollar: Looks like Kathryn actually found herself a tag team partner for this evening, and FYI, Porno Lad, you’d be foolish not to pick me as your partner at Upping the Ante. Did you not just see that footage? If that doesn’t sway you, you’re dead inside.

Susie: Let’s see who Kathryn picked. I bet its Bob…please God let it be Bob.

Dollar: I doubt Bob can compete when stuffed inside of a body-bag.

Susie: If anyone could do it, it would be Bob.

The lights dim as the screen springs to life up above the entrance as ‘overture’ (Instrumental) by Icon for Hire plays through the PA system and a pink silhouette appears on the screen, walking towards us.

The intro is instantly recognizable by any self respecting wrestling fan, evident by their huge pop, especially as the music segues into ‘Theatre’ by the same band. That’s when the curtains part and Yvonne Knight steps through the curtains making her way out beside her protégé, Kathryn Pearson.

Dollar: Yvonne Knight!?! The trainer of Kathryn Pearson wisely selected to be Pearson’s tag team partner tonight. That is huge not only for Kathryn…but for the IWC…as Yvonne makes a HUGE in ring debut here on IWC soil.

Susie: Speaking of soil…I’m sure several fans just soiled themselves at the sight of Yvonne coming out here to join Pearson.

Dollar: This is truly an absolute shocker here tonight….Yvonne Knight debuts, and she stands UNITED beside her partner, Pearson. Kathryn won’t have to worry about any trust issues tonight, not like at the pay-per-view.

Pearson and Yvonne dart to the ring, Knight slapping a few hands in the process. Katthryn however, is entirely focused on the Blacklist, the two who injured her shoulder earlier in the night. Some ace wrap remains tightened around Kathryn’s shoulder, showing some war wounds from her earlier brush with the pair. The two then slide in under the ropes and leap to their feet, immediately gesturing towards Mika and Lukas. Kozlov brushes off the pair, deeming them unworthy while Lukas makes some lewd gestures in the direction of Pearson, only further antagonizing her.

Dollar: Well Pearson picked a great partner to stand at her side tonight as she goes to war with the Blacklist….Yvonne Knight shockingly in the middle of an IWC ring. But now the bar has been raised, so who’s P Clarence Whitman III going to bring out here as his tag team partner?

The answer doesn’t have to wait very long. No music plays but Whitman nevertheless makes his way to the stage in his traditional wrestling garb and weighed down by the X-Class Champion thrown upon shoulder. He overlooks the fans while taking a very deep breathe, knowing that their hopes are high and he’s undoubtedly about to let them down. He turns, gestures, and instantly from the back steps the newest member of Kitty’s Khristian Kollective, the man formerly known as Wino-Jack. His face is now clean cut revealing the numerous wrinkles lining his flesh, as well as all the nooks, crannies and fissures embedded into his skin. He steps to the stage wearing his KKK t-shirt while clutching tightly to the crucifix around his throat.

Dollar: Uhhh.. This is no Yvonne Knight. Whitman teaming up with….Wino-Jack of all people?

Susie: But he’s just Jack now…right? No more Wino?

Dollar: Which could be a really bad thing for Whitman, considering alcohol is what made Jack so invincible in the past. But I guess Clarence didn’t have very much in the way of time to find a partner considering he only had five minutes to do it.

Whitman reluctantly descends upon the ring, clearly not convinced that he’s found a suitable replacement for the Black Crusade tonight, but he made his bed, one he’d rather not share with the former transient. Nevertheless the two climb to the apron and take their corner, ready to participate in this blockbuster tag team main event.

Dollar: Whitman and Jack rounding out the last of the four teams slated to compete in this evenings main event. I wonder if the X-Class Champion is regretting not going through with the scheduled six person tag at this point. Though he can’t trust the Black Crusade, at least their better than Wino-Jack. Actually, I think anyone would be.

The bell chimes and Pearson and Knight instantly drop to the mats and rush around both sides of the ring, going right at the Blacklist. Mika and Lukas react, the two teams instantly going at it with a barrage of fists.

Dollar: And we are underway, with Pearson and Knight going right after the Blacklist. It’s broken down here already.

A very…very sad realization sets in on the our X-Class Champion at this moment, as he watches the two femmes wage war with the Blacklist outside the ring…that revelation being that he and Wi…JACK, are alone in the ring with the source of all his fears, the Black Crusade.

As thus Whitman snaps around to face the very man who has been quite the prick in his bicep…literally…giving him the tattoo that he has still yet to wash away fully. Mr. Hush looks Whitman up and down without uttering a word, only heightening Whitman’s state of alarm. At last Whitman bucks up,m literally pushing out his chest and pretending that he has not mortified by the bowler hat wearing fiend before him. He steps towards Mr. Hush, BOLDLY steps before lifting a palm into the air. He then points at it several times as Mr. Hush looks up at the twiddling fingers, wondering what in the hell he’s implying here.

Dollar: Is Whitman actually calling for a test of strength with Mr. Hush?

Susie: I don’t think he’d even beat ME in a test of strength.

Mr. Hush examines the open palm of Whitman, who continues to point to it, insistent that the two tie up and finally prove who is the superior man. Mr. Hush begins to step in before Whitman puts his palms down and now outstretches them in a defensive stance.

Whitman: Wait…wait…wait…I’m not ready yet.

Whitman steps back to the impatience of Mr. Hush and shouts at Jack in the corner. The former alcoholic follows instructions to the letter, reaching over and massaging Whitman’s shoulders.

Whitman: Give me just a moment to work this pain out of my neck, then you’ll get a jolly good rogering you will.

Mr. Hush bats his eyes at Silence, who shrugs, realizing without words, that her masked compatriot is asking her rather British people actually speak in such a stereotypical fashion.

As Whitman gets his massage the violence escalates outside of the ring. The vengeful Pearson is unloading on Kozlov, hitting her repeatedly with right hand after right hand to the face, exacting payback on the woman who assaulted her backstage AND manipulated her way into stealing her X-Class Title shot. A boot to the ribs doubles Kozlov over and puts her head in perfect position for a side headlock.

She then rushes across the mats and begins to dive forward only to have Mika push her off the attempted bulldog. She flies forward right into the steel steps but lands feet first on top of them. At the same time Yvonne is brawling with Montgomery on the opposite side of the steps. Somehow Lukas gets the better of his opponent…well…there’s actually no mystery to it, as the thumb to the eye gives him a definite unfair advantage. He then grabs Yvonne by the wrist and drags her forward into the short arm clothesline,b ut she ducks and continues to let her momentum carry forward right towards the steel steps Kathryn is standing on top of.

Pearson leaps over her trainer and lands on Lukas’ shoulders before snapping off with a hurricarana. At the same time, Yvonne dives under her student, over the steps and catches Mika around the neck, pulling her around into a tornado DDT that drives her skull first right into the mats.

Dollar: Incredible tandem offense from both Yvonne Knight and Kathryn Pearson, student and teacher working as an effective pairing to bring down the Blacklist onslaught.

The fans are just as excited by what they saw as Dollar, demonstrating as much through their raucous exclamations.

Back inside of the ring Whitman seems to be finally ready after having Jack grab him a spit bucket and a bottle of water. He squirts some water into his mouth, swishes it around and deposits his saliva into the bucket. Oddly enough Whitman has a handkerchief stuffed in the back of his wrestling tights, employing to dabble his lips and remove any secretion that may have been left behind by his ungentlemanly spit.

He then puts his dukes up and inches out of the corner as Mr. Hush searches everywhere for a clock that will tell him how much of his life has just been wasted. At last Whitman lifts his arms into the air before slapping his shoulders and insisting that the two settle their test of manhood through a collar elbow tie.

Mr. Hush moves in and is just about to lock up with the X-Class Champion, when Whitman backs away and pantomimes a timing out motion with his hands. He then shouts again towards Kitty’s brainwashed minion, who reaches into his pocket and removes a bottle of hand lubricant. He puts a dab in the outstretched palm of Whitman, who then rubs his hands together in order to ensure that their properly lubricated.

Silence: Can we get a move on this already, Percy!?!

Whitman: Hey now wretched woman …don’t cheapen this for me.

Finally Whiman’s hands are properly lubed and it appears that they will not risk being cracked or chapped. Therefore he steps forward in order to establish that basic collar elbow tie he was insistent upon locking in earlier. Mr. Hush takes the bait and falls hook, line and sinker into the trap yet again. The moment Mr. Hush gets within range, Clarence whistles for a time out and throws his handkerchief down at the Black Crusade member’s feet as if it were a flag.

Whitman: Wait…wait…wait…one more pre-match ritual, and then I’ll be ready, I assure you…Mr. Wino…

Jack: It’s Jack…just plan Jack…how many times do I have to friggin tell you?

Whitman: Fine…fine…be a dear and fetch the table would you?

Clearly Clarence had this well thought out in advance, finding ways to undermine the potential likelihood that he’d receive a vicious lashing, this time via the props he took the liberty of hiding beneath the ring. Several of which Jack now brings into play. A small table slides in first which Whitman quickly sets up. Then a silver serving tray with some fine dishes upon it and a sterling teapot in the middle, is inserted into the squared circle. The tray is placed upon the table and two stools are provided by Jack so that the two can sit and enjoy a nice glass of pre-match tea.

Dollar: Am I the one now suffering from concussion related dementia?

Susie: Ummm….why do Whitman and Jack get to have their tea party, yet I’m not allowed to have even one more edition of my fabled Susie’s Tea Party interview segment?

Dollar: Whitman going to absolutely absurd lengths in order to prevent participating in this match.

As the delay continues Mr. Hush rolls under the ropes and reaches beneath the ring, grabbing his own props. He throws a pillow into the ring a small blanket before rolling in and crawling under the sheet. He fluffs the pillow and places his head on it, taking a nap.

But no one is restful outside of the ring, especially not the Blacklist, who are still reeling as a result of the violence the united Kathryn and Yvonne are unleashing upon them. Knight has dragged Mika to her feet and has a shoulder wedged to her stomach, powering her spine first into the apron. Mika connects with the apron forcefully, causing her to almost lose her footing…almost…instead she goes twisting towards the steel steps, falling against them for support.

On the opposite side of the stairs Kathryn has reached her feet and now reaches with her hands for Mika’s hair. She grabs hold of it and obviously has something very destructive in mid only to have Lukas stagger in behind her, and leap into the air, nailing Pearson to the upper back with a diving knee strike. She is propelled forward into the barricade, literally spinning as she loses her footing and collides with the steel.

Mika continues to lean on the steps, seemingly having no idea that Montgomery just spared her a cruel fate…for the time being…..because Knight is dashing in behind her to rectify her protégé’s mistake. But Kozlov seems to possess such clairvoyance and super sharp reflexes that it would even make Peter Parker ashamed of himself.

Kozlov turns and ducks just as Yvonne charges past going for the lariat. Knight’s forward momentum carries her into the steps, but like Mika earlier, she leans upon them instead of crashes into them…a costly mistake. She has no idea that Lukas has climbed to the apron at her side and is leaping off, landing across the back of his leg on the back of Yvonne’s skull and driving her down face first into the stairs with a version of the fameouser.

Dollar: So much for Yvonne….Lukas may have just taken her out with one move…ONE MOVE! A very well timed and absolutely brutal one.

Susie: It is Halloween….everyone seems to be channeling their inner monster.

Dollar: For people like the Blacklist…Halloween must last 365 days a year then, Susie.

Susie: I wish it did, because then I could always wear my Bob costume.

Just as Yvonne falls to her seat, leaning back first against the steps, Kozlov comes barreling in and throws her whole body into a cannon ball, connecting with a version of the rolling senton right into Knight, crushing the legend between her body and the steps.

Dollar: And God did it ever just get worse for Knight.

Within the ring Whitman continues to do exactly what Silence suggested, embracing British stereotypes, even going as far as extending his pinkie finger from the surface of his tea cup during each sip. He engages in proper tea-time conversation with Jack, who is stuffing his mouth with a crumpet that originated from God only knows where.

Silence enters the ring and approaches the duo, Whitman surprisingly offering her a spot across the table. Instead she seems to have her eyes set on the teapot, picking it up and examining it slowly.

Silence: Care for a refill?

The hot tea is turned and from the spout burning hot liquid pours directly into Whitman’s lap, but to everyone’s surprise, Clarence has absolutely no reaction. Instead of responding to the singing of his gonads, Whitman acts totally aloof, even taking another swig of tea.

Silence: Wait a minute….

Silence drops to her knees and does something truly inappropriate, snatching at the zipper of Whitman’s trouser.

Whitman: My goodness. I don’t work this fast, we’ve only been on one date.

The fly is undone in order to reveal the fire proximity suit under his wrestling gear.

Silence: The fix is in.

Whitman: Well mother always told me to wear proper protection.

Silence: What did I tell you about discussing your Mother!?!

The table is flipped over right on top of Whitman. He ends up on his back with the table stretched over him as he desperately tries to wiggle out from under it. This process is impeded when Jack stands, gets a boot to the ribs and then is snap suplexed right over onto the table, crushing Whitman beneath,

Dollar: Silence having no where near the patience that Mr. Hush possesses…first revealing that Whitman was wearing that protective fire suit beneath his clothes due to his insatiable fear of being set on fire by the Blacklist, and then suplexing Jack on top of him.

Susie: So tea time is over already? I didn’t even get a damn crumpet. Or a streusel. Wait, are streusels served with tea?

Dollar: I would advice you to ask Whitman, but I think he’s nowhere near conscious enough to give an answer.

Jack is surprisingly back up on his feet and lunging at Silence again only this time to get caught around the knee and the neck. She snaps back into a T-Bone suplex, and the moment Jack collides with the canvas Mr. Hush steps in, grabs him around the legs, hooking the creases and seems to be signaling for an Antonio Cesaro style giant swing.

As the crowd gets ready for a bout of dizziness, and Jack prepares to fill like he’s back on the sauce, Pearson prepares to keep her trainer from being destroyed by the Blacklist. The Blacklist has Yvonne sat up against the steel steps with Mika wedging her hands to the trainer’s throat, choking her in true act of depravity. Lukas in the meanwhile is signaling for Mika to get out of the way. The moment she does Lukas barrels across the ring and dives into a forward flipping senton of his own. But at the last possible second Kathryn grabs Yvonne’s wrist and drags her out of the way, causing Montgomery to crash forcefully into the steel with nothing to show for his efforts but a bruised lower back.

Pearson is then given a kick to the gut for her trouble, Mika defending her partner…who is closer to her than a brother. She then grabs Kathryn’s arms, setting up for the Das-vi-Dania right on the outside mats.

Speaking of sets up, Mr. Hush has finally finished putting Jack into the giant swing position. He then exploits all his strength to turn around and just barely get his opponent’s body up off the canvas. He makes two full revolutions but then stops and drops Jack, staggering around as if he’s made HIMSELF incredibly dizzy.

Silence: MY TURN!

Silence steps in, grabs the creases of Jack’s knees and now begins to spin in circle after circle after circle, heaving her opposition effortlessly into the air and just as effortlessly making revolution after revolution.

Kathryn Pearson rotates as well, spinning right out of the double arm DDT predicament but still being held by the wrist. Kozlov pulls her forward and Pearson ducks at the last second before leaping to the apron behind her Blacklist opponent. Mika turns around and eats the heel of Pearson, mule kicking Kozlov to the face from her upright position on the apron.

Kathryn then turns to face the ring as a dizzy Mr. Hush falls into the ropes in front of her and upchucks Asiatic mist right into her eyes.

Dollar: Ohhhh…Mr. Hush just got so sick he misted right in Kathryn’s face…And speaking of sick, I think Jack’s gonna need a vomit bucket considering he’s been spun around about thirty times now with this giant swing from Silence.

Susie: How is anyone expected to follow all of this? How I ask…HOW!?!

The crowd confirms Dollar’s suspicions, counting to 31 after Silence has made yet ANOTHER full rotation with Jack trapped in her clutches. Speaking of someone being trapped in another’s clutches, that’s the fate Kathryn befalls, desperately brushing mist out of her eyes just as Mika steps in under her, grabbing an ankle and ripping it right from under her body. Kathryn’s legs go airborne but her body goes crashing down HARD face and shoulder first into the apron.

Dollar: JEEZ! A head is not meant to bend that way.

Fans: 32-33-34!

Whitman brushes himself off after getting out from under the table and then staggers to the cente rof the ring when Jack ends up being swung right into the back of his knees. The X-Class Champion collapses to his back and Silence releases Jack…why…because now she has the opportunity to torment someone else. She steps in, grabs Whitman’s legs and lifts the frantic X-Class Champion into the air, spinning around and around and around into ANOTHER giant swing.

Dollar: How is this woman not puking her guts out?

Susie: Well Mr. Hush and Legion had extensive training in the Himalayas to prevent feeling pain when given low blows…I’m guessing that Silence had training on many carnival rides to keep her from feeling dizziness.

Fans: 20-21-22!

The big swing only ends when Kozlov dives over top of Whitman just as she’s swung under her legs and nails a spinning heel kick to the side of Silence’s face. She drops Clarence and almost drops herself, but stays upright and goes twisting toward into her own partner. She collides with the still sick Mr. Hush’s back, knocking him through the ropes and to the apron. He begins to stand up on said apron when Lukas leaps up behind him and wedges a boot right to his rear-end, shoving him Mr. Hush forward, skull first into the exposed steel turnbuckle post.

Mr. Hush can’t stop his momentum as he goes charging with cranium crushing impact against the steel. He bounces off and twists to the outside mats, landing right in the arms of Yvonne Knight.

For all of Yvonne’s hidden talents, freakish, Silence style strength, is not one of them. She collapses to her back just as Mr. Hush lands on top of her. The incredibly dazed Mr. Hush then rolls over, finding that he’s seated on top of Yvonne’s face, her nose going right up into his anal cavity.

She squirms and trashes beneath the Black Crusade member, who is holding his noggin with both hands. Above him, inside of the ring, Silence has stood up and holds the top rope just as Lukas reaches out from the apron, catches her around the back of the head then drops to the outside. Silence’s throat snaps off the top rope and she goes staggering back right into the waiting arms of Kozlov, who goes airborne, catches her opponent around the jaw, then delivers the reverse neck breaker.

The moment the back of Silence’s head hits the canvas, causing her to pop up onto her seat, Lukas rushes into the ring and delivers a boot right to her face. Silence is knocked to the canvas after this Blacklist barrage.

Dollar: Just like we saw earlier in the night, the Blacklist is taking total control of everything going on in that ring. These two are truly so synch with one another, it’s scary. Hence why they’re going to have such a strong advantage in that High Stakes match at Upping the Ante.

Referee Blacker is having an absolute blast as she watches all of this, and does absolutely nothing to try ad get any semblance of control over the insanity…where would the fun be in that?

Two people who are apparently going to two things…jack and shit…about the Blacklist’s onslaught, are Clarence and his partner. Instead of fighting off the onslaught of Mika and Montgomery, the two have gotten to their feet and staggered into one another, exchanging right hands.

Susie: Te-he-he…Whitman and Jack are so dizzy they’re actually fighting each other!

Whitman lifts Jakc into the air for a scoop slam but loses his balance, having no idea its his partner who comes down on top of him. Jack now slaps the canvas, insisting Michelle get off her high horse and do her job. Before Blacker can tell him that he’s pinning his own tag team partner, Jack rolls off of Whitman’s chest and instead ends up sitting on top of his face. Whitman’s nose goes…well…you already know where this is leading, and the X-Class Champion tries desperately to get out of this stinky predicament he’s placed in.

The only thing that ends his misery is another running boot from Montgomery, this time delivered right to Jack’s face. The former hobo collapses onto his back, lying incapacitated and immobile.

Immobile of his own accord to be accurate, because Montgomery is dragging him to the center of the ring while watching his partner from the corner of his eye. Mika sets up the tea table that was flipped over moments ago, getting it into position just a few inches away. Lukas then backs up to the turnbuckle and drags Jack’s head under his seat before wrapping his arms around his opponent’s waist and heaving him up into the air.

As this disturbing scene prepares to play out, Mika has reached into her vinyl short tights and removed her I-Phone, taking some pictures of the pending calamity.

Dollar: Oh…oh my…this is gonna be bad…rreeeeeaaal bad for Wino-Jack!

Susie: And for the tea table.

Lukas has Jack hung upside down and now sticks an arm through his legs so he can jump off the turnbuckle and connect with a cradle piledriver. Jack crashes right through the table directly on top of his head via the middle rope piledriver variation, his body bending up and snapping like a twig upon impact.

Dollar: Cradle….CRADLE…Cradle piledriver from the second rope through that table. Jack’s night is done…..and so is his career. I think the Blacklist just claimed yet another victim.

Several pictures are snapped of the table, and the possibly broken neck of Jack….Mika making sure she gets some close up images of all this violence before hitting the ‘send’ button oddly enough…delivering the images to God only knows who.

A holy shit chant is justifiably given to the beyond brutal Cradle Piledriver unleashed by the potential challenger for the N.H.B Champion, who just demonstrated that he is completely in his depth when competing under hardcore rules.

Dollar: Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve GOT to take our last commercial break…hopefully that’ll give us time to get help for Jack. Stick with us…you ain’t gonna want to miss none of this craziness.

Susie: You mean there’s still more to come? Thank God I popped some Zoloft before the show. But in my own defense I thought they were Skittles.

Jack convulses across the canvas because that’s just about all he can do as the show fades into the final commercial of the evening….meaning we’ll be sticking with this match uninterrupted right to its gruesome conclusion.

And we’re back just like that, picking up almost exactly where we left off, with bodies flying everywhere, and no semblance of order in this four corners tag team match. The only different being that the broken table and broken body of Jack have at last been cleared from the ring.

Dollar: Ladies and gentlemen, during the commercial break, in what has become an all too familiar sight around here, Wino-Jack was carted out of the building on a stretcher after taking a devastating cradle piledriver through a table.

Susie: Good luck finding him an ambulance to get him to the hospital in.

They may be lining up in droves to take that journey to the hospital if this match gets any crazier. Right now the wrath of Kozlov and Montgomery has turned to Whitman, who is trapped under a lethal barrage of boots from the two. Lukas then rolls the X-Class Champion to his stomach, drops at his side and applies the EPICrossface. Instead of getting it legally established though, he throws in a fish hook of the nostrils and the mouth.

Mika makes sure she gets some great footage of this as well, circling around the traumatized Champion with her I-Phone snapping pictures.

Mika: Hurt him…HURT HIM…That’s NOT good enough…hurt him some more!

Again the pictures she’s taken are sent off to some unknown destination…someone being the proud recipient of photographs featuring Whitman’s face being mauled and mangled. Kozlov now stands behind the two in order to check and make sure her message went through, but it proves to be a bad position for her and Lukas alike.

Mr. Hush rushes in out of nowhere, catches the back of Mika’s head and hits a double handed bulldog that puts her down forehead first right on top of Lukas’ shoulder, forcing him to break the crossface. Kozlov flips to her back and Lukas rolls away, gripping at his possibly broken rotator cuff, leaving Mika t the mercy of the Black Crusade.

Mr. Hush then leaps to his feet and sticks his arms out to his sides, crouching slightly. The fans are instantly clued in to what he has on tap, especially as he leaps on one foot, and then does it again, and again, turning away from Mika in the process and putting some distance between them.

Fans: H-U-S-H!

The spell out his name in accordance with each single leg hop that he makes. He then drops to the canvas and performs the best rendition of the worm ever seen before hopping out the dance move to his feet, flopping his arms this way and that way, then delivering a big dropping chop across Mika’s chest.

Dollar: I never thought I’d see the worm again, and I wish I never had.

Mr. Hush then crawls into the cover on Mika, believing that the chop was enough to get the job done.

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Lukas grabs Mr. Hush by the ankle and drags him off of the pin, keeping the Blacklist alive. Then two sets of hands reach under the ropes, grab BOTH of Lukas’ ankles and pulls them out from under his body. He collapses to the canvas, and Yvonne and Kathryn then pull him to the outside by his legs. He lands right in front of Yvonne and Pearson, who deliver a step up enzugari and super kick combination.

Dollar; Quick..vicious…and effective.

Susie: Are you describing your sex life?

Dollar: Probably…yeah.

Montgomery collapses to his back, leaning spine first against the announce table and looking totally void of consciousness at this moment. Finally Kathryn and Yvonne have their opponent right where they want him, Lukas at the mercy of this united front.

Mr. Hush is clearly unaware of what he’s doing as he reaches through the ropes and grabs for the hair of both ladies. This prompts them to take their focus off of Montgomery and back to the man who victimized them equally in some capacity, be it spitting mist in Kathryn’s face or sitting on Yvonne’s.

Pearson takes point, leaping into the air and nailing a big knee strike to the face of Mr. Hush, delivering the knock out shot. But true punishment comes in the form of the next maneuver, as Knight leaps to the apron on one side of the Black Crusade member, and Kathryn climbs up onto the apron on the side opposite of her opponent. Student and Teacher nod at one another then take off simultaneously, delivering stereo basement dropkicks to the sides of Mr. Hush’s head, sandwiching his skull between four boots.

The masked Mr. Hush collapses to his knees but still subconsciously lets his head dangle over the middle rope. Normally Yvonne and Kathryn would probably go in for the kill, but their attention is on the destruction of one man, and it isn’t Mr. Hush.

Lukas gets to his feet using the announce table as a prop before two leaping forearms connect with his upper back, knocking him down to the mats once again. Kathryn and Yvonne land on their feet and then the two instantly begin pummeling him with forearms.

Dollar: The Blacklist getting it from all sides tonight. First Harrison whisked away in the ambulance after being assaulted by four men…and now Montgomery getting punished by Pearson and a woman who wasn’t even supposed to be competing here tonight…in Yvonne Knight.

Susie: You get a lot more than you bargain for whenever you tune into an IWC telecast.

Dollar: As long as it’s not Tommy Wiseau clips, I’m happy.

Pearson is relishing the next opportunity presented to her as Yvonne tucks Lukas’ arms behind his back and lifts up on them, exposing him to the pending devastation, leaving him defenseless against Kathryn’s vengeance. Just as Pearson moves in and begins to deliver right hands to the face of Lukas, in between slaps to the cheek. Two familiar figures leap over the barricade…familiar in the sense that they’ve been seen around the wrestling world…but NEVER in the IWC.

Dollar: Hey….hey…I recognize these two…that’s “The Maniac” Gary Matt, Taylor Chase’s ex-husband…and that’s Brooklyn Smith!

Susie: Why are they here?

Dollar: Does it sound like I have a damned clue?

Susie: I’m going to take the safe bet and just assume they’re here to hurt people.

Dollar: Safest bet you’ve ever made.

And who are they here to hurt? Well it seems that they’re quite indiscriminate in these regards. Michelle Blacker, given her passion for violence, merely watches and makes absolutely no attempt to call for a bell when the Maniac slides into the ring and instantly avoids a bicycle kick from Mika. He then steps behind Kozlov, takes her under the arms, hoists her up and drives her down to the canvas via the full nelson slam.

The Brain Damage connects and leaves Mika convulsing on the canvas. The X-Class Champion then steps in and throws a right hand only to have it blocked by Matt, only to get hit with a kick to the gut, doubling him over. Gary then charge sin, catches him around the head and delivers a swinging neck breaker.

The X-Class Champion was still way too dizzy to block that last move, nor can he defend himself against the top rope leg drop that connects from Brooklyn. The fans react with an explosive ovation at the sight of Smith’s high flying maneuver, incapacitating Clarence. He then rolls to the outside of the ring while Yvonne and Knight are brought into the fold. Kathryn was in the process of hopping to the apron, about to take flight and hit another diving strike on Montgomery, who is caught in the clutches of Yvonne and held in place…when the Maniac grabs Kathryn‘s hair, spinning her around. He goes for a right hand only to have Pearson duck, throw her shoulder through the ropes, and drive it into Gary‘s stomach. Yvonne drops Lukas and gets involved. The pair roll in and another exchange of rights and lefts begins, with Yvonne exchanging shots with the Maniac, and Pearson brawling with Smith.

Dollar; And now Pearson and Knight fighting it out with these two….who were clearly here to make a major statement…but to whom?

The fist fight wages on between both groups, who spill through the ropes, and then over the barricade into the crowd. The fans disperse as Knight and the Maniac launch fists into one another’s faces and Smith and Pearson are trying to one up one another through a series of knife edge chops mixed in with forearms.

Dollar; “Maniac” Gary Matt and Brooklyn Smith wanting to make an immediate impact by interfering in our main event this evening…but Pearson and Knight are having none of it fighting these two off. How many times can I call one match insane?

Susie: I think twenty times is the maximum.

The reaction gets louder and louder as Knight and Pearson fight these two off, the four disappearing into the sea of humanity.

Dollar: Pearson and Knight taking out of this equation via their battle with Brooklyn Smith and “The Maniac” Gary Matt. It seems that we’re down to just three teams at this point…well…2.5.

Mika is in the process of recovering from that devastating full nelson slam, leaning on the ropes to keep her body propped up. She then spots Mr. Hush in a prone condition staggering back to the center of the ring. She then steps in behind Mr. Hush, drops down and delivers a big uppercut right to his testicles. The fans boo in Pavlovian fashion as Mika stands up and sashays across the ring, wearing a big smile on her face. Unaware to her though, the shot to the gonads had absolutely no effect on Mr. Hush, due to years of extensive training in the art of surviving shots to the testicles. Kozlov and Mr. Hush turn at the same time, Mika almost losing her footing at the sight of her unaffected opponent.

She bolts straight at Mr. Hush, with a lariat only to have it ducked, and for her momentum to carry her forward right into the Mephisto Walk. The super kick nails her right to the throat, sending Kozlov falling right back into the clutches of a laid out Mr. Hush. He wedges his feet to the creases of Mika’s knees, and then hooks the arms before bridging her up into the air with the Expiratus Apotheosis. Mika grinds her teeth and occasionally flashes a quarky smile from the pain…well that and the fact that while she’s stretched, her ribs are exposed to repeated tickles from Mr. Hush.

Dollar: Silence and Mr. Hush setting Kozlov up for that Romero Special variation, stretching and….tickling…yes…I just said that…Mika to the point where she may have no other alternative but to tap.

The crowd is starting a ’tap’ chant but that doesn’t happen, thanks to the interference of Montgomery. Lukas rushes in and throws a big roaring elbow into the back of Silence’s head, connecting with the Quieter. The blow knocks Silence into her partner and her opponent, effectively breaking up the submission attempt as a result.

Silence rolls to the center of the ring with Lukas on top, delivering stomps to both her body and to the forehead of Mr. Hush. He then leaps into a knee strike, coming down right on top of Mr. Hush’s masked face before popping up to his seat. He gets a running start and delivers a running knee to the temple of a kneeling Silence

Dollar: Once again the Blacklist takes control.

Mika is back on her feet but quickly leaping off of them into an effective double stomp right to the ribs of the laid out Mr. Hush. She then drops out of the double stomp into a forward roll and flips out of it into the rolling thunder senton, crashing across the kidneys of Silence. She then turns Silence to her back, steps around the foot and establishes the Red Dawn submission hold…her unique rendition of the toe hold submission.

At the same time Montgomery has rolled Mr. Hush over and dropped to his side, establishing the EPICrossface. He pulls back on the jaw until the back of Mr. Hush’s head almost touches his shoulder blades.

Dollar: And now their making the Black Crusade suffer via double submission holds. This is the Blacklist’s MO, they’ll make you suffer any way they can.

Susie: Thank God its through holds and not through forcing us all to listen to Cher.

The submissions seem more designed to inflict punishment rather than elicit tap outs. But the pain persists only so long because an even bigger pain, Whitman is sliding instinctively back into the ring. The X-Class Champion just gets to his feet when he’s spotted by Mika and Montgomery, the two simultaneously breaking their holds. They get to their feet and methodically approach their opponent….slash…victim. Whitman raises his palms into the air once he realizes that he’s been spotted and is being encroached upon.

Whitman: Hold on…need more hand lubricant.

Before he can delay the inevitable, a leaping knee to the jaw delivered by Kozlov, sends the X-Class Champion spiraling into the turnbuckle and falling to his rump. Montgomery then backs up to the center of the ring and slaps his knee, looking to employ his own joint as a weapon. He barrels forward only to have Mr. Hush slide in out of nowhere, catching him around the ankle and hitting a drop toe hold.

Lukas collapses to the canvas and then Mr. Hush steps over his back, grabbing his legs and his arms. Just before Mr. Hush gets whatever it is he’s intent on applying established, he lifts a finger to his lips, resulting in a ’SSSSSHH’ from the crowd. On the outside of the ring, Al Todd-Mariweather at last speaks up, having surprisingly kept out of the antics thus far.

Al: QUIET YOURSELF, YOU BISBEGOTTEN SPAWN OF HELL!

The insult is directed at Montgomery, who is then heaved into the air and placed in the Japanese Fuck Bucket. Lukas grimaces and groans in pain as he’s swung back and forth under the posterior of Mr. Hush. Mika charges in to aid her partner only to have the top of Lukas’ head swung into her stomach, doubling her over. Just as she turns away, she spins towards Silence, who reaches up with her legs, wraps them around the throat of her opponent and pulls Kozlov down into the triangle choke.

Dollar: And now fates have been reversed, Kozlov and Montgomery finding THEMSELVES in the submission holds of Silence and Mr. Hush. The Blacklist couldn’t get the Black Crusade to submit, but can the Black Crusade get the Blacklist to tap?

Susie: A huge break dancing competition would be so much cooler…

Dollar: You’re STILL going on about fucking break dancing?

Susie: Is it so wrong of me to want to see Silence and Mr. Hush settle a feud through a break dance challenge? Is it? IS IT!?!

Dollar: Incredibly so….yes.

The simultaneous submissions remain locked in with Lukas’ head now being swung repeatedly into the bottom turnbuckle pad through this rocking horse variation. Al is cheering on his cohorts from the outside of the ring, but his reaction changes from one of celebration to calamity. He cries out for his brethren to watch out…and for good cause…as over the barricade leaps three individuals.

Dollar: It looks like the Black Crusade are closing in on a…..come on now! What the hell is this?

The fans are stunned at the sight of Porno Lad bolting down the ramp and sliding straight into the ring. Before Silence has a chance to react, she’s spun around and forced to drop Mika.

Al: WATCH YOUR ARSES FOR THAT JACKANAPES BEHIND YOU!

Silence is punched under the jaw, then hit to the opposite side of the face, the Original Prankser just unloading on one member of the Black Crusade. Mr. Hush breaks hius submission in order to interfere but then finds his leg snagged on something….Montgomery holding him in place, refusing to let him go.

Dollar: Now Porno Lad is interfering. He vowed to get his hand son the Black Crusade earlier tonight after he perceived them to intentionally set Katelyn Buehler up for failure. I don’t think that’s the case but Porno Lad believes it nevertheless.

Susie: Plus, you know, he might be a little upset about being hit with Gaunt’s pimp cane last week, and being power bombed on an announce table by Legion.

Dollar: True….or maybe he just came out here to take me up on my offer to be his partner at Upping the Ante and decided now would be a good time to get his hands on the Black Crusade. Two birds…one stone….you get my point.

Silence is too exhausted by the physical assault she’s endured in this match to defend herself against the rested Porno Lad, which explains why the masked messenger is taken over the top rope via the lariat with such ease. Both individuals flip to the outside of the ring and crash across the mats. Eventually they work their way to their feet with Porno Lad still unleashing a vicious tirade of kicks and punches on Silencer, battling her up the ramp and towards the backstage area.

Dollar: Now Silencer has been taken out of the match. She’s leaving Mr. Hush to his own devices…which is a really bad thing for numerous reasons.

The hyperventilating fans watch as Silence and Porno Lad brawl right through the curtains. This whole brawl is not only filmed by IWC cameras, but by the I-Phone clutched in a laid out Mika’s hands, snapping repeated shots of this whole fracas.

Mr. Hush stomps her to the back of the head though, and then grabs her precious I-Phone, squeezing it until it explodes in his hand. He throws down the broken fragments of the phone and then takes Mika by the hair, leading her up to her knees. Just as she gets to a kneeling base, Kozlov is nailed with a slap across the cheek.

Mr. Hush then turns and spots Lukas moving out of the corner and then darts forward and begins drilling him with rapid fire forearms and kicks and chops and head butts, employing every inch of his anatomy to inflict damage. He then turns back towards Mika, who is showing signs of movement, prompting him to to her side, kick her arms back over her chest, and then pantomime the removal of an elbow pad. He tosses the invisible pad into the air, swings his hands back and forth then takes off into the ropes. He ricochets off one set, leaps over Mika then bounces off the opposite set of cables before stutter stepping his way into the people’s elbow.

To a rousing ovation Mr. Hush makes the cover, hooking both of Mika’s legs before….

The feed is disrupted once again…someone hijacking the signal. In a flash the image of scales appear, one side weighed down with a set of toy chattering teeth positioned on tiny feet, moving in rhythmic circles. On the other side of the scale are four eyes, that seem to have been freshly plucked, blood still dribbling from the veins that were crudely ripped out of a skull.

Eye spy with my four little eyes….GUILT…

A roaring fire illuminates the figure seated in a chair so large it could almost be mistaken as a throne. Lady Justice remains stretched across the floor in front of the figure with his side now aimed to the camera. She is curled into a fetal position on the bearskin rug, fingers slowly rubbing the calf of the man who stews in contemplation, knuckles raised to his lips.

You’ve been judged…as has the whole of the Black Crusade…and for your attempts to reduce fear to a tool for comedic effect, you’ve been condemned…..

Mr. Hush and Al are now looking back at the Carteltron which flashes with this unusual imagery of the man known as Ba’al.

No court…no jury…no executioner was needed…for I am the system as a whole…and you are a weight tipping the scales, that needs to be balanced. Your sentence shall be served.

Those same chattering teeth are shown weighing down one side of the scale before the eyes begin to balance things out. The lights then reduce to shadows within the Manhattan Center, but within seconds they return to their original luster and illuminate Al standing outside the ring with plastic wrapped tightly around his nostrils and mouth. He drops to her knees, asphyxiating thanks to the plastic makeshift muzzle.

Dollar: What is this now? Al Todd-Meritweather’s mouth bound and gagged by that plastic wrap! How did Ba’al pull that off so quickly?

Susie: And now he’s targeted the Black Crusade, he put the gag on Al so he could no longer be the voice for the Hush, and it looks like it’s choking the life out of him.

Mr. Hush hurriedly rolls to the outside and tries his best to rip the plastic away from the mouth, or even the nostrils of his verbal conduit. For some reason the plastic just cannot be torn away, and what little has been ripped asunder reveals yet another layer beneath, and another layer and another. Mr. Hush has no other alternative at this point, watching as his associate turns a bright shade of blue. He quickly scoops Al up into his arms and carries him up the ramp to the backstage area where presumably Mr. Gaunt will find a way to accomplish what he couldn’t, the removal of all this plastic.

Dollar: Mr. Hush rushing Al to the back…but that…that means…oh no….

The significance of the Black Crusade’s removal from this match truly begins to sink in, when Whitman III is revealed to be the final opposition against the Blacklist. Mika and Lukas assist one another to their feet and dust their shoulders off before their eyes hone in upon the prone X-Class Champion.

Dollar: Whitman’s alone…he’s all alone against the very individuals that he’s expressed such fear and trepidation at battling.

Susie: Thank God he’s wearing that fire proximity suit over his lower extremities.

Whitman looks one way, then the other at the screaming fans…many of them screaming for the X-Class Champion to leave the ring…which is exactly what he’s about to see. He begins to step through the ropes when he suddenly spots someone seated in the third row, his attention drawn to a clapping Lois Prince, seated right beside Kitty Buehler.

The two watch with Kitty frowning and Lois clapping, quite mystified by all this action she’s witnessed thus far. Whitman tries to hide his grimace behind a grin, bucking up and trying to look tough. So that he doesn’t appear weak in the eyes his potential mate, Whitman rushes across the ring at the still recovering Blacklist. A forearm nails the jaw of Mika, taking her to the canvas while Clarence, grabs the wrist of Montgomery and pulls him into a short arm lariat.

Dollar: Whitman is actually taking it to the Blacklist! He’s standing up for himself tonight, just like he did last week against the security guards who were beating down Legion.

Whitman steps towards a slowly rising Mika and delivers a bionic elbow to the top of her head, taking her back down. Montgomery is up and he receives a bionic elbow as well, knocking him to his knees. The X-Class Champion takes both of his opponents’ by the backs of their heads and then drags them skull first against one another.

Dollar: He’s actually holding his own in there.

Susie: He really should wait until he gets into a bathroom before he does that.

Dollar: Not holding his own…why do I even bother correcting myself when you’re the only one who harbors such impure thoughts.

Whitman is building some confidence as he rushes into the ropes, ricochets off and comes back in at the Blacklist. His double lariat doesn’t meet with nearly the same level of success as Priest’s, because both Mika and Lukas duck the inbound arms simultaneously. And Kozlov even goes as far as to catch one. She swings to Whitman’s side, hooks his leg with her own and then snaps back into the Russian Leg Sweep.

The X-Class Champion and one of his potential challengers hits the canvas just as Lukas bounces off the ropes and dives forward. He comes crashing down back first across the chest of Whitman with a senton splash. He then rolls out of the way as Mika leaps into the air, and comes down with an elbow drop to the center of Whitman’s sternum.

Dollar: All the motivation and persistence in the world couldn’t keep Whitman alive during this brawl for long. He‘s fighting a two on one advantage. And you just know Mika‘s got to be loving this…the more brutality she and Montgomery inflict on Whitman, the worse shape he‘ll be in for a potential X-Class Title match down the line.

Whitman is still fighting back against these impossible odds, rolling to his knees and throwing rights and lefts at anything that gets close, even the referee. But a well placed boot to the temple knocks him to the canvas and keeps him from mounting much of a defense. Lukas then goes in to inflict further punish…

Mika: Wait!

Kozlov stops Lukas before he can do any greater damage.

Mika: It’s time.

Lukas nods and then rolls to the outside of the ring while Mika is busy whipping her I-Phone out and filming the writhing Whitman.

Mika: You were right to be so worried, little man.

Apparently Whitman and the Black Crusade weren’t the only ones who put props under the ring pre-match, because now Lukas has retrieved a bottle of alcohol from beneath the squared circle. He then rolls in, screws off the lid and begins to douse Whitman’s body in it.

Mika: Don’t worry…apparently he’s a man who quite enjoys a stiff drink.

The alcohol washes over Whitman’s head and drops down his chin and body, thoroughly saturating him.

Dollar: They said they were going to do it…they vowed that someone would go up in flames tonight…and apparently that someone is the very man who expressed such fear about being burned by the Blacklist since day one…P Clarence Whitman III.

Susie: Goodbye Whitman, we barely knew thee.

Dollar: This is not funny, Susie…even I can’t condone what we’re about to see right now.

Referee Michelle Blacker couldn’t be any happier, saliva almost dripping from the corners of her mouth as she watches Whitman try feebly to get to his feet only to be hit over the back of the head with a forearm by Kozlov.

Mika: Stay down….and enjoy our nice little bonfire….

Lukas extracts a lighter and flicks it open, holding it over the body of Whitman, bringing it down dangerous close to his flesh.

Montgomery: Did anyone bring some Smores?

A smile stretches across Mika’s face as she watches this whole massacre unfold via the screen of her cellular phone. The flame comes down towards the X-Class Champion when the crowd unleashes an ovation that threatens to rip the roof from the Manhattan Center. The reason the fans have become so enthused, to the point where property damage ensues…well…one need not look much further than the figure barreling down the ramp. Though she still wears a protective bandage over the dozens upon dozens of stitches embedded in her scalp and other areas of the body, Rose Savior slides into the ring across her stomach

Dollar: ROSE SAVIOR….the former World Heavyweight Champion! Where did she…how did she….

Susie: Why must you stutter through every expression of shock?

Dollar: Cause I sound more surprised that way. And wouldn’t anyone be stunned by this? Rose Savior is here, and she’s going right after the Blacklist, the very group that was instrumental in her loss of the World Championship.

Mika looks up just a second too late…spotting not Rose, but Savior’s boot ramming directly into her face via the Scarlet Thorn.

Dollar: And that kick has just taken Mika’s chin off.

Susie: I had to pay a lot of money to have my chin taken off.

The moment Mika goes down, Lukas goes up, pouncing at Rose only to be caught with a devastating diamond cutter. The Black Rose connects and sends Montgomery flopping across the ring, grabbing at his cracked cranium.

Dollar: And then the Black Rose on Lukas…Rose is so fired up….so motivated…so angst ridden after what these people did to her last week.

The veteran instincts of Kozlov carried her to the outside, where she now stands up with the aid of the apron. But there is no distance great enough to put between herself and Rose, who is launching herself over the top rope into a big cross body. She crashes right into a stunned Kozlov’s chest, knocking both ladies to the mats. She then rears back her knuckles, drives them into Mika’s forehead, and then does it again, and again and again!

Dollar: Rose is just beating the holy hell out of the Blacklist! I’ve never seen her so amped.

Susie: She probably drank like a whole gallon of Mountain Dew before the show started.

Kozlov finally gets her hands into Rose’s eyes, raking them and forcing the former World Champion to roll away. Mika then climbs back to her feet and puts some distance between herself and the woman she helped screw out of the gold. But then she turns and realizes that she didn’t do nearly enough damage to douse the flames of hatred burning like a nuclear hazard within Rose, who closes the distance between herself and Mika via the running STO. The back of Mika’s skull connects with the mats and she curls into the fetal position as a result.

Meanwhile, inside of the ring, the X-Class Champion is falling into the ropes, leaning on them for support. On wobbly knees he turns his attention to the recovering Lukas, stepping in to throw a right hand only to have Montgomery drive the top of his skull into the inbound champ’s stomach. Whitman doubles over, grabbing at his gut while Lukas takes off into the ropes behind him.

He is just about to bounce off and deliver the Quieter to the back of his opponent’s prone skull when Rose reaches under the ropes, grabs him by the ankles and prevents him from delivering the knock-out shot. Lukas is staggered but eventually turns around, stomping down at Rose’s hands only to have her pull them back at the last second. She then leaps to the apron, jumps into the air, catches the back of Montgomery’s head, before snapping his throat off the top rope.

Lukas’ head pops back and he stumbles into the clutches of Whitman, who rolls him up from behind into the backslide. The whole building is on its feet going nuts as Michelle makes the three count for the alcohol soaked and badly banged up X-Class Champion.

1

2

3!

There is an ovation of epic proportions when Blacker’s hand connects for the third and final time against the canvas…Whitman…of all people…scoring a victory over the group that has terrorized the IWC tonight.

Dollar: Whitman scores the pin! PCW3 has just pinned the Blacklist! That is bigger than a surgically enhanced tit.

Susie: Bigger than huge….it’s hugemunga!

Dollar: This has to be one of the most shocking things we’ve ever seen. First it looked like Whitman was going to be burned alive, but then…then Rose comes out of nowhere…..

Lukas rolls away from the pin, looking stunned that his shoulders were forced to the canvas by the X-Class Champion. In a rage Lukas looks to beat down the victor, showing that to the victors the spoils do not necessarily go. But before he can get his hands on Whitman, a big spear to the ribs takes him down. Rose rushes across the ring and delivers a spear with enough force to lift Lukas off of his feet. The vengeful former World Champion then gets to her knees and is about to dig her claws into Lukas’ eyes, before he’s dragged to the outside of the ring by his ankle, Mika pulling him from harm’s way.

Dollar: And Rose takes out the Blacklist…AGAIN…I don’t know if they realize what they’ve gotten themselves into regarding the targeting of Rose. They may have at last bit off more than they can chew. There’s only one way to describe everything we just saw in this match…and I think you know what adjective I’ll be using….

Susie: If I knew what an adjective was maybe I would know what word you’re going to use.

Dollar: Insanity…that’s what this was…pure unadulterated insanity too hard for words to even describe…

REPLAY

The many twists and turns in this four corners tag tornado are relived. There are images of Kathryn Pearson summoning Yvonne Knight to stand at her side, before cutting to Whitman and Wino-Jack embarking towards the ring.

Dollar: Things started off insane enough…when this six person tag was changed to a Four Corners Tornado Tag…after Whitman and Pearson refused to team alongside their respective partners. While Whitman was saddled up with potentially the first person he saw, Pearson made a call to her mentor, Yvonne Knight, who made her shocking debut here in the IWC.

Knight and Pearson are shown brawling with the Blacklist, before the replay cuts to Wino-Jack being taken out of the equation before he could even play much of a pivotal role. He’s dumped via the super cradle piledriver through the tea table by Montgomery and Kozlov.

Dollar: Then Jack was taken out by the Blacklist, leaving Whitman partner less…but things got even crazier when “Maniac” Gary Matt, and Brooklyn Smith showed up out of nowhere and tried to lay to waste everyone participating in this match.

Matt and Smith are shown hitting leg drops and full nelsons before Knight and Pearson battle them into the crowd. It then cuts to the End Effect sliding into the ring and pouncing off the Black Crusade.

Dollar: But Matt and Smith wouldn’t be the last ones to interfere because here came Porno Lad, pouncing on the Black Crusade.

The destruction of Porno Lad is showcased before the video then highlights the Blacklist on the verge of lighting Whitman ablaze. Just before they can, Rose Savior interferes, hitting all of her trademark moves to inflict brutality on the duo who left her for dead and cost her the World Championship.

Dollar: And then, in the final hour, salvation for Whitman comes in the form of Rose Savior, who turned back the tide of the Blacklist and fought them off….leading to a sight none of us thought we’d ever see…

Rose snaps the throat of Montgomery off the top rope, leading him to be rolled up from behind by Whitman, the X-Class Champion picking up the biggest win of his career thus far.

The recaps are over and Whitman stands triumphantly in the ring. He holds his ribs and doubles over as the X-Class Championship is back home upon his shoulder. He lifts a fist into the air while stepping up to the middle rope, and then goes as far as to point down at Lois, who is giving him a just deserved standing ovation. All the while Rose Savior is marching like a caged animal eyeing her prey from between the bars of her cell, gazing upon the Blacklist as they back up the ramp and…in spite of their loss…actually seem to be grinning.

Dollar: Whitman wins tonight to send us all home happy. I don’t think anyone…ANYONE in their right mind thought he would do it…but Clarence is the victor…and Rose Savior has just begun her pursuit for vindication.

Whitman kisses his X-Class Title and then blows a kiss to Lois who leaps into the air and acts like she catches it. She then shuffles it around behind her back and makes a no look pass back to Whitman, who acts as if he’s swooning, almost collapsing off the turnbuckle in the process.

Dollar: Everyone jockeying for positioning as we find ourselves drawing ever so much slower to Upping the Ante, where Whitman will go to war with the Blacklist yet again, and on that night he’ll be FORCED to team with the Black Crusade’s representative, Legion. Plus we’ve found out Taylor Chase will defend the World Title against Aaron Harrison with her hands shackled behind her back and under NO DQ rules…and we’ve found out so much more…You’re not going to want to miss anything else on our road to Upping the Ante…I think tonight has just proved that.

The celebration continues, but that feel good vibe couldn’t last forever.

The actions in the ring transition to the antics within the halls of the SCW HQ, the focal point being the office of the Board of Directors where Desmond Drake sits under metaphorical heat lamp. Sasha D is right in the midst of verbal tirade as she paces around the oval shaped table Desmond is seated at the end of it.

Sasha: Desmond…we appreciate you coming here tonight, and standing up for Orlando…

Drake: It was the right thing to do.

Clearly Sasha doesn’t agree, but carries on without fail.

Sasha: But I’m afraid you may have dug him into a deeper grave here…

A sad twinkle appears in Desmond’s eye as his head lowers.

Sasha: You have a funny way of trying to defend Orlando…Desmond…bringing to light his many failures since the reopening of the IWC…even many the Board were unaware of. Such as personally delivering the results of Jackson Adams’ head CT, plus the video of him being arrested for a second time last week on Riot!

Drake: I’m sure he had a good reason for it…Does it count for nothing that the man is IWC through and through, that he is as fiercely loyal to the IWC….

Suddenly Sasha’s phone begins to ring and vibrate.

Tomlinson: Is it Olek?

She takes the phone off the table, no longer bothering to put it back in her pocket given how many text messages she’s received throughout the night.

Sasha: No…someone is still sending me photos from Riot!…..Oh jeez…you probably don’t want to do know what I’m looking at right now.

The Board members inch closer to the table as she turns her phone for everyone to get a glimpse of P. Clarence Whitman III being doused with alcohol while a lighter is held above his head by the Blacklist.

Sasha: How do you explain this? Desmond?

She gives him a close up view of the image from the opposite side of the table.

Drake: Well…you know Orlando’s got a lot on his plate at the moment….what with booking himself in that tag match next week and inserting himself into the World Title picture….

Sasha: We really didn’t need you reminding us about the President of a wrestling company making challenges to his roster.

Drake: I mean…if I were there I’d gladly take some of the burden off his shoulders again, by being the man who takes a stand against the Blacklist, just like I did at Awakening.

Tomlinson: Yes, you seem to be the only man willing to handle them without the need to instigate further violence inside the ring.

Sasha: Which makes our decision all that much easier.

Drake: Can’t you guys just give Orlando the benefit of the doubt, just this once? I’m sure there was a reason he beat Rose Savior half to death, and forced Christian to wrestle in handcuffs, and is making all these crazy challenges, and is showing a completely inability to keep Riot! From exploding into chaos, like it has tonight. Give him time, and I’m sure he can offer an explanation….

Sasha: That time is up. We’re through waiting for him to reign in the Blacklist and the rest of the roster. Judging by all these pictures and videos I’ve received throughout the night, Orlando is just incapable of keeping this company under control…and he actually creates more chaos and carnage than he contains.

Drake: Only because I haven’t been there these past two weeks to carry some of the load.

Sasha: Yes, because unlike Orlando, you are capable of following orders. And we like a man who can follow orders. A man who doesn’t blow off meetings with his Board of Directors.

Drake: Again, I’m sure Orlando had his….

Tomlinson: We no longer care what his motivations are. The state of unrest he’s created in the IWC is too much for us to overlook anymore.

Sasha: Especially when someone has been rubbing our noses in it all night long.

She pushes the cell-phone to the center of the table.

Tomlinson: Wonder how they got your number.

Sasha: Doesn’t matter…what we need to concentrate on right now is the emergency vote we must hold.

Tomlinson: Shouldn’t we wait for your Father before we make such a decision?

Sasha: Actually it works out to our benefit that he’s not here tonight. We all know he can be equally as impetuous as Cruze, and that he’d be adamant that he can run both SCW AND IWC, which we all know is an impossibility. Plus I haven’t been able to get him on his cell-phone all night long. So we’ll just say that my Father abstains from voting….on the naming of a new IWC President.

The numerous Board members nod.

Sasha: And, because Desmond has first hand experience in the trenches, sort of speak, and the IWC only seems to be in such chaos whenever he’s away from the show….I nominate him to replace Orlando.

Tomlinson: I second the nomination.

Sasha: Then I say we put it to a vote amongst the rest of the Board…though…it seems to be a formality in my opinion…congratulations Desmond.

Drake’s head remains lowered, not wanting the Board to see the giant smile that has formed on his face. Everything going exactly to plan.

FADE TO BLACK