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.
Dice roll across the green felt of a craps table, ending up landing directly on snake eyes.
P. Clarence Whitman III: How foreboding.
Unfortunately there are no lovely ladies around with heaving endowments bursting from their unnecessarily tight fitting dresses to blow on the dice and give Whitman the run of luck he feels entitled to. Actually, save for the wearer of the X-Class Championship, there is absolutely no one in the casino.
Whitman: Hello IWC faithful….Tis I…your intrepid X-Class Champion, Percival Clarence Whitman III, standing here in the MGM Grand Casino, where numerous gambles have been made to fulfill the loftiest and grandest of expectations. Unfortunately, many end up going…how do you term it….belly up? Ah-yes, that’s the proper diction. But perhaps the greatest gambles tonight will not unfold here in this wondrously bright casino, they shall transpire next door, in the MGM Grand Gardens.
In a very quick flash there are images of the ring being assembled and then fans filtering into the stands via accelerated time lapse footage. Back to the casino, no longer occupied by Whitman, but by another wrestler looking to earn a few extra bucks. Kathryn Pearson pushes the necessary buttons and watches as the slots turn and turn and turn, two ending up on cherry, and one coming up with a lemon for some strange reason.
Kathryn: You know, it’s weird really. How does fruit have anything to do with money?
She turns away from the puzzling slot machine and towards the camera, but does not get off the stool she’s made herself comfortable upon.
Kathryn: Tonight you’ll see people…people just like me…totally up their games and raise the stakes….
Another quick flash…unfortunately NOT from Kathryn…but a brief segue to Aaron Harrison menacingly approaching Taylor Chase with a cracked Singapore Cane in his hands. To the interior of the MGM Grand Casino, where Nathan Creed attentively watches a ball skip from one number to another in the roulette table.
Nathan: Come on black….come on black…
The ball lands on green, resulting in an outburst from the commonly cool and collected Creed.
Nathan: Bollocks!
It’s amazing that something so small and puny could reek so much havoc on Nathan’s life, or more accurately, his finances. He takes full advantage of the empty casino, grabbing the ball unmolested by security, and throwing it across the room.
Nathan: Tonight many athletes are going to be gambling more than fortune and fame…
Yet another flash of the rather accelerated variety, cutting to Christian Savior kneeling on the canvas and having his head caved in by the Singapore Cane swung by his own wife, a sobbing Rose. A grinning Orlando Cruze watches from the stage.
There are dozens of numbers randomly drawn across the Keno screen….with Cassidy Haze looking upon them spellbound and mesmerized.
Haze: Ewww…how shiny….Oh yeah…howdy…
She waves playfully to the camera.
Haze: Tonight’s the night…the night for all the sycophants and maniacs to play the ultimate game of high stakes.
Another flash and another segue to the actions that have brought us to the pay-per-view. We now bare witness to Simon Cagero in the balcony of the Grand Ballroom, holding up the World Championship in one hand and the briefcase holding the Evolution Championship in the other.
Cards are stretched between the hands of Brooklyn Smith, who tilts her head from one side to the other as she toys with her options.
Brooklyn: Tonight you’ll see strategy…you’ll see manipulation….but ultimately, everything comes down to chance.
You guessed it, another flash, this one featuring Brittany Lohan assaulting Legion with a crowbar, and then Lukas Montgomery throwing Kathryn Pearson shoulder first into a wall, and then Kathyrn driving the face of Mika Kozlov into some steel steps, and then Legion clutching the skull of Lohan with one hand and ramming his fingers down the throat of Whitman with his other.
Back to the casino and this time Whitman looks happier than a chubby child surrounded by cakes. But his veracious appetite is not for pastries, its for all the ladies who surround him. Cassidy seated on a chair with her foot kicked up on another and her elbow leaning against the edge of the craps table. Kathryn leaning over from the stool directly in front of the slots machine. Brooklyn leaning into Whitman with her elbow placed to his shoulder. The sight of all this flesh has Clarence in dire need of a handkerchief, and his mother is probably in fits of hysterics as she presumably watches from home.
Whitman: The house of cards has been built, and now that the chips have been played, we will either bloat are egos or fail to achieve our aspirations. Tonight, we will gamble it all for….
STATIC
Through the distortion images begin to take shape, resulting in the form of Ba’al…seated in a sanctuary of shadows, his leg hanging over the arm of the seat while he slouches to the side…almost laying rather sitting on the antique chair.
Ba’al:…..Sin….
The smile that forms on his face is about as disturbing a scene as any combination of the film Scarface and chainsaws.
There are fireworks….people screaming…beers sloshing….signs waving….and much ballyhoo….and who doesn’t love a good ballyhoo?
The Las Vegas denizens are ready to see the IWC wrestlers put all their cards on the table…to roll the dice…to make the ultimate gamble…to truly up the ante.
Johnny Dollar: Sin City people…we are live from Las Vegas, Nevada!!
Cameras continue to pan over the fans who have ingested far too much sugar.
Dollar: I feel right at home, being in Vegas…MY type of town….Who knows what might happen before Upping the Ante ends tonight…I might get married twice at the 24/7 wedding chapels.
Susie: I already have gotten married….who knew marriages between woman and stitched together plushies were legal.
Dollar: This is Vegas…and in Vegas anything can and will happen…..which makes having a show already crammed with so much unpredictability…very…very dangerous.
Susie: Don’t worry, Johnny…I know everything that’s going down this evening….I brought along my magic eight ball…behold its magical precognitive capability….Magic eight ball…will we see Susie get her own big bright and shiny title tonight?….Outlook Good….YAY!
Just then the footage stops tracking the idiocy of Moore and the practicality of Dollar, and instead turns focus over to the ring…currently occupied by two uniformed personnel…one clutching a set of handcuffs..and the other gripping the canister of pepper spray secured to his belt.
Dollar: Well…speaking of titles…looks like we’re going to be kicking off the PPV in the grandest fashion imaginable…
Susie: A live performance of Spider-Man Turn off the Dark?
Dollar: No…I think if you take a look in the ring even YOU will be able to put this together.
Though there is no official present…everyone is gearing up for maybe the biggest match in the short history of IWC’s rebirth….including the newly anointed ring announcer….Thomas Boll…standing smack middle in the center of all the action.
Thomas: Lady and gentle-people…follow match schedule for fall of one…and it for World Heavyweight Champion….
The crowd is both elated and stunned to see this match kicking off the pay-per-view…one with such huge stakes attached to it…
Susie: We’re kicking off the pay-per-view with a World Title match? Aren’t those customarily reserved for the main event slot?
Dollar: Not tonight…and not in the IWC…where we’re constantly going off script…What a way to start this pay-per-view event….hooking our paying audience right out of the gates.
Susie: And here in Vegas…hooking is legal.
Dollar: Tell me something I already didn’t know….that’s probably the only reason you have a job at the moment.
The ring announcer continues speaking through his broken Eastern European slang.
Thomas: Introduce first…challenger for World Heavyweight Champion….he is New Breed…he is member of Blacklist…he Aaron Harrison….
More often than not the crowd would react with an instant demand for a refund when the show opens with the arrival of Aaron Harrison….but tonight…with such major stakes on the line…they’re enticed to keep watching…nay…are positively glued to every image….with the current visual being the arrival of tonight’s challenger. There is no pyro…no smoke…no laser lights…just the intro music of ‘Monster’ screeching through the PA system….Suspense has been heightened and pays off with a surprising anticlimactic entrance from Harrison…who does not depend on over the top theatrics.
Dollar: This is actually happening, Susie…World Heavyweight Title to be defended here in our opening match tonight at Upping the Ante…with Rose Savior scheduled to referee…And boy…how Aaron has pulled all the right strings methodically and maliciously in order to get this championship bout….
Susie: I’d do anything in my power to get my hands around a big sparkly….
Dollar: …McShinny shine…yeah…yeah…get some new material…Like I was saying…If Harrison is able to defeat Taylor Chase here tonight it brings him one step closer…one CRUCIAL step closer to facing Orlando Cruze one on one….That’s his end goal mind you…The man doesn’t even care about winning the World Title…he just cares about winning that one on one bout against Orlando…who presumably is next in line to challenge for the championship according to the contract Orlando was ‘tricked’ into signing.
It doesn’t take long for Harrison to reach the ring…..methodically pacing in his cowboy boots with one eye focused to a sharp point on the entry way….Wanting to get this title match over…and quickly…hence why it’s opening instead of closing tonight’s event.
Thomas: And opponent be…World Heavyweight Champion….he is Starlet Socialite…he is Taylor Chase….
Given his inability to differentiate between genders in the syntactic sense…Thomas carries forth without the need to go back and correct himself. Plus there’s no time given the fact that Chase seems equally as eager to get this over with….craving an end…an end to all this madness. Once “Boss’s Daughter” tears through the speakers the crowd finds itself quite torn as well….some supporting Chase…others not so inclined to buy into her false bill of goods.
Dollar: And Tay-Tay is about to walk right into a minefield…I don’t know if she really understands what she’s in store for…Has she not seen what the Blacklist has done over the past few months? Burning people…hanging people….giving them piledrivers through tables…and beating down almost the entire roster on their own? How does she expect to….
Johnny trails off due to confusion…confusion created by the sight of Chase…but not Taylor Chase…Instead its Broderick Chase himself…the forbearer of the highly coveted baby gravy that has spawned so many incredible talents….So there’s no wonder he should ooze charisma through every pour….but at this particular moment…the only thing he oozes is anger.
Susie: Tay-Tay must have really been hitting the all you can eat buffets that are legendary here in Vegas.
Dollar: The Brod? Broderick Chase is here…and he’s got a look of sheer condemnation on his face.
Susie: Yep…the buffets will do that to you.
Broderick…who hasn’t been seen since strangling the life out of Frankie Paradise’s body…scales the steps to the apron and then slides through the ropes into the ring. He doesn’t flinch…he doesn’t breath…he doesn’t take a step back from the imposing Harrison, who silently watches with arms crossed over chest, even Broderick waltzes past him and takes the microphone out of Thomas Boll’s hand.
The Brod: Aaron….sorry to do this bro…but you’ve given me no other option…
Harrison is intrigued…legitimately! He’s not feigning it whatsoever…given his odd level of respect for the man who’s loins have created so many legends.
The Brod: I’m here tonight to tell you…that all this special referee brouhaha….this ridiculous stipulation where my Pumpkin is forced to compete with her hands shackled….and that utterly silly no disqualification rule….none of it matters worth the fungus festering under my big toe nail…
He calls out a few hecklers in the front row.
The Brod: Yeah so…it’s been a while since my last pedicure. You try to find time to hit those little Asian boutiques when your constantly on the road protecting your daughters from this cruel and savage industry….And that’s what I’m doing right now….Aaron…I’m coming out here to fulfill my fatherly obligation….Making sure that you do not have the opportunity to destroy my Pumpkin.
Aaron sighs…really wishing that Broderick hadn’t made this decision.
The Brod: And boy…if it takes a sound ass kicking to put you in your place and put this whole match in the past…then it won‘t be a handcuffed Tay-Tay that gives it…it‘ll be the patriarch of the Chase wrestling dynasty who whips your ass from one corner of this building all the way to.…
Harrison: That won’t be necessary, Brod….Can I call you that, Brod?
Chase winces in between STILL rolling up his sleeves…not buying into the soothing tone of Harrison….which has been known to lure his enemies into that dreaded false sense of security.
Harrison: After all…we’re pretty much family as it is.
The Brod: Ah-ha…THAT’S what this is all about…isn’t it? Isn’t it?
Harrison: I have not a clue what your….
The Brod: This has nothing to do with the World Heavyweight Title…and everything to do with my relationship with Mika Kozlov.
Harrison: I wouldn’t say her name with that base in your voice…Brod.
The Brod: This is all designed to get back at me for being a lousy father isn’t it…Aaron? Mika’s upset because I wasn’t there for her the same way I was for my other baby girls….I can’t apologize for that enough…but I’m trying my best…my hardest to reach out to her…to make Mika a member of the Chase family…
Harrison: Is that why she hasn’t received any birthday cards..any well wishes..any engraved invitations to the Chase seasonal soirees? And in spite of all of this…Mika still worships the ground you walk on…Brod…
The Brod has been backed into a corner…but instead of fighting his way out with fists…he uses his words.
The Brod: It takes time to repair a relationship as unorthodox and fragile as the one between Mika and I. But I’m sure what you’re about to do to her sister…Taylor…a woman who Mika respects just as much as her father…will do no favors to that relationship….not to mention putting you in the dog house….
Harrison: Mika and I have an understanding….Brod…she knows just how much this match means to me….She knows I’ll go to whatever lengths necessary to get my match with Orlando Cruze….Unfortunately…that means targeting the ones he CLAIMS to care about….to back him into the corner…to give him no other option but to accept my challenge…But winning the title tonight…takes that choice right out of his hands…
Was that…was that…a feint glimpse of a grin?
Harrison: Orlando’s hands are just as tied as Tay-Tay’s, Brod…just not quite so literally….He signed that contract…he put his signature on the dotted line and now it’s allll official….When I defeat Taylor tonight…as regrettable an act as it may be….then I get him one on one with the World Championship on the line…You couldn’t write a better story than this…You couldn’t ask for a better ending…
The Brod: I can foresee a much better ending…boy..
The shirt is removed to show off the pectacular physique of Broderick before he tosses the shirt into Aaron’s chest. It bounces off and Harrison makes no attempt to catch it.
Harrison: Not every story is a fairy tale….Brod…not every story can have a happy ending? Mika sees it…don’t you?
He pulls down on the lid of his eye as he steps up close to the knuckled up Broderick.
Harrison: She knows that this match tonight…it’s not designed to DESTROY her sister…no…heavens to bettsies no…It’s about protecting her.
The knuckles begin to unclench.
Harrison: Protecting her from that monster named Orlando Cruze….A man who would cripple…and smash your precious Pumpkin without an iota of hesitation or remorse….Because anyone…anybody who stands between him and the World Heavyweight Champion has been marked for destruction…Look at what he had us do to Rose Savior…facing her in all but a three on one Singapore Canes are legal match a couple weeks ago…Look at what he’s had done to Simon Cagero…the guy is gonna be walking with a limp for the rest of his life…Look at what he’s had done to Christian Savior….The guy has been victimized over and over again by Orlando, because he opened his mouth and spoke up against the injustices being committed by the Icon….So it was only a matter of time…a matter of time before Orlando turned his vindictive sights on your little girl…and employed every disgusting…reprehensible and disturbing tactic at his disposal to see to it that she would never rise up and threaten his World Title ambitions.
Though the Brod tries not to listen….everything that Harrison is saying actually makes complete sense….there’s no way he can argue against Aaron’s multiple points.
Harrison: So my intent this evening…..was to put an end to her reign in MERCIFUL fashion…to spare her the horrors Orlando would no doubt unleash should he have been in my spot tonight. So you see..she HAS to have her hands shackled…so that I can bring a quick and resolute end to the World Title match without her wasting herself and potentially risking injury by way of a long…and drawn match…one that she might have very well won had the stipulations not been in my favor….and believe me…that wouldn’t be good for your daughter…cause then…then she’d be left susceptible…susceptible to whatever outrageous swerve…what other bullshit finish…whatever reprehensible scheme that Orlando had in the works. So Brod…
Chase doesn’t even react…at least not violently…to the hand that falls upon his shoulder.
Harrison: Know that my aim tonight…is to PROTECT your daughter….To spare her whatever fate Orlando Cruze had prescribed to her the moment she went out and WON the World Heavyweight Championship.
The Brod: Wait…wait…wait….
He finally sees a big gaping hole in Harrison’s logic.
The Brod: Then why did you make my daughter the World Heavyweight Champion in the first place?
Yep…there IS a smile.
Harrison: Isn’t it obvious, Brod?
He wouldn’t have asked if it were.
Harrison: Eventually Tay-Tay was going to win the championship anyway…and then be subjected to the insidious plots of Orlando…making her suffer over and over again until she was unable to defend the title…and then SNAP…he comes out….brutalizes his manipulated prey and STEALS back the gold. I couldn’t in good conscious allow that to happen, Brod….So I accelerated everything slightly….I made sure Tay-Tay won the title…and then so that Cruze could continue masquerading himself as an honorable and decent man…I used Chase to FORCE him to accept my challenge…since he ‘apparently’ cares so much about her…and then…once he had accepted my challenge under the guise of protecting Chase… I would exsanguinate him in the center of this ring and make sure that he NEVER puts a finger on Taylor again….
Broderick TRIES to soak this all in…and to find another hole in Harrison’s logic…but thus far the only gap he could pinpoint was Aaron’s claim about having a conscious. The palm that was placed against Brod’s shoulder now begins to pat it several times.
Harrison: See, Brod…you shouldn’t be in such a rush to judgment….Look closer…look deeper….see that the Blacklist’s intentions are noble…..and honorable. And you know who you should thank for protecting Tay-Tay? Not me….but the daughter you’ve denied so many times in the past…the daughter you overlooked in favor of Taylor…in favor of Madison…in favor of Ashley….This was all Mika….the two of us conspired to bring Orlando’s tyranny to an end…and to protect Tay-Tay from his treacherous deception…
The hand falls away from Broderick’s shoulder and sways to Harrison’s side as he slowly approaches the ropes and slips through them.
Harrison: It’s a lot to digest…I know…which is why I’m going to give you some time to think about it….Brod…but if your as smart and clever as Mika and I suspect you to be…you shouldn’t need very long. So consider this World Title match postponed until later in the evening. But for the sake of your daughter….ALL of your daughters actually….I would suggest you not stand in my way.
Aaron drops down from the apron to the mats and slowly ascends the ramp to the backstage area. Left behind in his wake is confusion…but perhaps none exhibited more than by Broderick.
Dollar: Did…did Aaron just manage to convince Broderick that tonight’s World Title match is for…the greater good of Taylor Chase?
Susie: I think he did….
Dollar: Well I can’t argue with the fact that Aaron brought up some very good points during his discussion with Chase…but come on…the man can’t be trusted…he just can’t! He’s a no good sadist.
Susie: I’m interested in seeing how Broderick reacts to this later tonight?
Dollar: True…as unthinkable as it sounds…is he gonna let this World Title match happen tonight instead of opposing it?
Susie: Let’s consult the Magic 8 Ball…
Dollar: Here’s a better idea…let’s not.
Broderick is left stewing in the ring…in a deep and somber state of contemplation.
We just saw two people that IWC fans aren’t exactly that enamored with…okay…let’s be honest..who doesn’t love the Brod and his pecs? Perhaps the man who overtakes the screen next…considering that Mr. D isn’t the friendliest of people….Being more inclined to spit in your eye than to shake your hand. Hence why he doesn’t get a very ‘kind’ reaction….one that matches his personality.
Mr. D: Seriously…Drake sent YOU to conduct this interview….
The camera is just outside the double doors leading to the infamous board-room overtaxed with overseeing the daily activities of both SCW and IWC….Though their probably happier with the conduct of the earlier…thanks in no small part to the man being filmed from the home base of operations.
Mr. D: He didn’t even send the puppet? I would even take the alcoholic or the idiot…But instead they send some film school reject who seems to sustain himself on a diet of jelly donuts and Doritos? Shower and shave before you try to interview me again…understood?
Once he’s done skewering the overweight and overly hairy would-be interviewer, Mr. D sets his eyes…or tongue…on a more pressing target
Mr. D: Let’s get this over with, shall we?
The camera nods.
Mr. D: Good….ladies and gentlemen….
He addresses the excited crowd…which might not be a good thing..
Mr. D:….I’m glad you could all tear yourselves away from whatever basement you’ve been living in…and that your parents gave you permission to either attend or purchase tonight’s pay-per-view…which promises to be quite eventful…but not for what’s been advertised. No…no…not saying that these matches in and of themselves fail abysmally to generate interest…I’m sure the World Title fracas has quite a few intrigued…But annnnywaaaay…let’s get to the reason I’m appearing on IWC screens for what hopefully will be the final time….
Lips are licked after a deep guttural sigh…Mr. D actually anticipating this moment with quite a bit of thrill.
Mr. D: Though the Board of Directors have made their fair share of poor decisions…namely refusing to place me as the figure head…and runner of daily operations in the IWC….OCCASSIONALLY they do use that organ in their thick skulls and can be reasoned with. Which is what brings cameras here tonight…to SCW and IWC HQ…..per my request…Because I’ve managed to sway the Board of Directors to take a subjective look at tonight’s pay–per-view. I have advised them to watch the proceedings very closely, so that we can rate the performance, or lack thereof, of my former underling….Desmond. And by the end of this evening…I’m confidant that the Board will indeed use their brains and come to the consensus that putting him in control was a lapse in judgment….and that…in spite of my misgivings…the lesser of two evils should be put BACK in control….
The doorknob to the boardroom is twisted as Mr. D finds himself on the verge of entering…but HAS to make one final comment just for clarification purposes.
Mr. D: So Orlando Cruze….you have ONE NIGHT to show why we should reinstate you. Don’t disappoint me again.
Into the room swaggers Mr. D…joining his colleagues as they examine tonight’s telecast on a giant big screen.
If the pop for Mr. D’s announcement wasn’t loud enough to deflate lungs…now their given a new image to leave them in serious need of portable oxygen tanks. That sight being the Original Prankster…the Pornster…THE Porno Lad…He moves towards the ring with only the type of energetic gate the mega-face can muster…Nearing the gorilla position at that particular moment and drawing near the curtains. His momentum is only derailed by the object that jumps on the tracks…or objects.
Sparkles: Porno Lad….my main man sized boy…how ya doin?
The question forces Ethan to stop, wince and give a quick reply.
Porno Lad: Did you just totally Joey Tribbiani me?
Sparkles: Who’s Joey Tribbiani?
Greyson: I think he’s a member of the Backstreet Boys…Sparkles.
The puppet would like to consult Wikipedia…but can’t get hold of his I-Phone…yes…even Sparkles has an I-Phone…with so many smoking hot hotties on his contact list.
Porno Lad: Friends….
Sparkles: Meh…I find Greyson tolerable.
Greyson: And I have only been forced to get a few restraining orders against Sparkles in the past.
Porno Lad: No…the show Frie….forget it…..Why have you disrupted my mojo, bro?
Greyson: OH….well….we’re supposed to be asking you about your Tag Team Title match tonight, right Sparkles?
Sparkles: We are? I was gonna ask him if he can style my green fro to match his perm….Woman are drawn to a good fro like gnats to a bug light….only gnats with giant boobs…and vaginas.
Porno Lad: Hmmmm? Trying to determine rather ‘boobs’ is PG enough….I can’t afford to go and upset that thirteen year old Twilight loving demographic.
Sparkles: Twilight? That’s what younger…barely post puberty chicks are into? To the Hot Topic, Greyson…at once!
Greyson: We have to get a word with Porno Lad first…find out how he intends on handling TWO partners tonight as he forms TWO separate teams to fight for the Tag Titles…I think I got all that right….If I’m reading this cue card correctly. Hard to understand it considering Sparkles wrote it on the back of a Hustler pin-up.
Porno Lad: Look….I’m a face…the Mega-Face…the most over superstar on the entire roster…so I’m not risking anything…ANYTHING by going out there tonight and dividing my time between two separate tag team partners….I’m more than capable of multi-tasking…In fact…I could probably go out there and just beat the teams of Haze & Sommers, and the TCWC all by myself…why…because I wear extremely colorful and fuzzy wrist-bands….they even have my emblem on them.
He pats the bands around his wrists.
Porno Lad: But now my super-star power can be exploited to give a rub to the likes of Johnny Dollar and TPKid. I can help get them over…only to ultimately lead to one of those Sid Vicious….Hogan style double crosses…where I crush them and derail any exposure they were getting. Why…because that’s what a MEGA-FACE does….especially one with fuzzy wrist-bands.
Sparkles: So you’re going through with that three way sandwich with you being the peanut butter and jelly and Johnny and that Trailer Park Kid being the rye?
Porno Lad: That’s one tasty and most importantly…
He directs his statements right to the camera.
Porno Lad: ….nutritious sandwich….and good nutrition is key to a healthy life-style kids….that…brushing your teeth three times a day…doing your homework and going to bed early. Now you know….And….
Clearly he wants Sparkles and Greyson to follow the invisible bouncing ball and sing along….but neither individual has a clue what Ethan is requesting of them.
Sparkles:….And you should try to bang your au pair?
Greyson:….And knowledge is power?
Sparkles:….And putting your penis in baked goods can result in series crotch burns?
Greyson:….And won’t you be my neighbor?
Porno Lad winces and rubs his temples with both fingers.
Porno Lad: Ugh….to heck with it….I’ve got Tag Team Titles to win and superstars to get over….so if you excuse me….OHHHHH what a RUSH!
The curtains part and into the abyss steps Porno Lad, leaving behind Greyson and Sparkles, the two discussing the state of the puppet’s fro…comparing it to the Original Prankster’s.
The wonderful melody provided by the Backstreet Boys starts to play through the PA system just in time for Porno Lad to make his entrance. With fuzzy wrist bands and wonderfully inspirational t-shirt on, he rushes to the ring slapping outstretched hands and leaping the top rope, a bundle of pure energy. He now does everything in his power to play to the fans.
Susie: It’s Porno Lad…look, Porno Lad…did you see him…it’s Porno Lad. Did you know Porno Lad was on his way to the ring?
Dollar: Yes…and I’m none too thrilled…none too thrilled at all….
Susie: How can you NOT be thrilled when Porno Lad comes into the building?
Dollar: Because just look at this entrance….it’s far too bland….far too bland for the Million-Dollar-Faces…..especially when we’re on the verge of challenging for the Tag Team Championships. Anyway…this need be rectified…
Susie: I’m gonna be left out here by myself again? What if a stranger tries to offer me candy?
Dollar: Just keep consulting your Magic 8 Ball for guidance.
Susie: BRILLIANT!
From his chair Dollar shoots to the ring, leaving behind his jacket and fancy attire and instead clothed in wrestling gear….of a rather flamboyant nature. Porno Lad is already in the ring warming up as
“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.
At the exact same time Johnny Dollar is leaping to the apron. The fact that the Trailer Park Kid is making his intro at the precise moment that he’s trying to monger the spotlight for himself, does not sit well with Dollar.
Dollar: Uh-huh…nuh-uh…go to the back and wait for me to finish my intro you greasy haired meth head.
TPKid: Shut it you manicured soul patch slut….
To Porno Lad’s side strides TPKid, throwing an arm over his shoulders and dragging him in by hooking him around the neck.
TPKid: This is OUR chance hombre….the opportunity for the Mega-Faces to have their big intimidating over the top intro….Look…I even brought these…
Black Magic Woman slides something into the ring at the behest of her man. The objects in question are scooped from the canvas as TPKid falls to a knee, crosses his arms and shoots confetti from two small projectile devices. Porno Lad looks amazed…quite easily amazed by the confetti descending down over the shoulders of his smirking tag team partner.
Susie: My mind is officially blown….
Though Porno Lad is mesmerized…Dollar quite clearly isn’t…in fact…he’s actually yawning.
Dollar: Wow…just wow….didn’t realize you could buy pop guns with food-stamps.
A sideways glance is shot in the direction of Dollar, but he ignores it in favor of addressing the one man who’s opinion he values…at the moment.
Dollar: This is what I had in store for OUR entrance…an entrance suitable for the Million-Dollar Faces.
Fingers rise and snap above Dollar’s head….At that exact moment pyrotechnics erupt from the stage…the scaffold…the Cartel-tron….the turnbuckles…..from everywhere…absolutely everywhere.
Susie: Is it wrong for me to be so turned on by all of this? What do you think Magic 8 Ball?….Very Doubtful….Well thanks for clearing that up for me.
Though Dollar and Porno Lad are quite pleased by this over the top entrance that exudes flair….TPKid is not suckered in by all the pizzazz.
TPKid: You call THAT an entrance….PLEASE….You want to see real pyro? I’ll give you pyro…
TPKid snaps HIS fingers above his head and from BMW’s sack….two sparklers are withdrawn and handed to her love. A Zippo is taken from the pocket of Kid and utilized to light up the sparklers before waving them around his head and around the body of Porno Lad.
Susie: I am officially on strike until I get my own sparkler…GIVE ME A SPARKLER YOU FUCKERS!
Eventually all good things come to an end…the sparklers die.
Dollar: Tell me your not sold on a man who’s idea of culture is crushing beer cans against his forehead?
TPKid: As opposed to some douche so tightly wound he probably wears a three piece suit to bed.
Dollar: I take off the cufflinks! Anyway Ethan…if you choose to make your entrance to the ring with me…thus hitching your trailer to the Dollar train…you would have rode to the ring in…in THIS!
His palm extends to the honking vehicle that pulls out to the side of the stage….that car being an expensive….lavish limo.
Dollar: My personal transportation…Ethan…you could ride in my tricked out…BLINGIN’ limo….complete with satellite television…a fully stocked bar and a disco ball…yes…you heard me correctly…a mother lovin’ disco ball….How about that?
A small victory has been achieved by Dollar…as Porno Lad couldn’t possibly…not in a million years…turn down the opportunity to ride in such style….or maybe he could.
TPKid: Whoa…whoa…whoa! Hold up! If you really want to ride in style….you’ll ride to the ring with me on this baby! Bring it on out here my peoples.
A horn is honking…but it creates a very minute tone in comparison to the excessively loud limo horn…why…because the vehicle on its way to the ring is about a tenth the size of the limo…and actually…calling it a vehicle is a gross misnomer. What is driven to the stage is a riding lawnmower.
TPKid: That baby could cut ten lawns in two hours…has spinner rims…and even has a beer cozy…a BEER COZY….Not that you would ever be caught dead drinking beer…cause that would totally be anti-PG….but it‘s just nice to have options.
A word is not uttered as Porno Lad instead nods in agreement, continuing to weigh his options…trying to decide who’s entrance would reek of greater awesomeness. Though the limo has its perks…how could he resist the urge to drive on a John Deere with spinning hub-caps…how he asks himself….how?
Porno Lad: You know what…the two of you have some wonderful ideas when it comes to the entrances here tonight…..and I really…really wish there was a way I could combine the two in order to make the single biggest tag team entrance in the history of all ‘face’ kind….but at the end of the day there’s only one…..
The decision is on the verge of being made before the TCWC make their own decision…that they’ve seen enough.. Into the ring slides both Hugo Magnusson and Bash Kincaid….catching this three person tandem with their pants down….Before TPKid knows what’s going on…he’s taken by the shoulder, swung around and nailed with the most devastating of devastating European Uppercuts, launching him across the ring.
A similar fate is suffered by Porno Lad, who in spite of taking the fight to Bash, rushes right into a roaring elbow delivered with such force that it actually sends the Prankster corkscrewing through the air. Ultimately he collapses to his back and lays there with brains transformed into mashed potatoes.
Susie: What’s this all about? It’s Bashy Cocoon and Huge Assunson attacking the Million-Dollar-Mega-Faces! What is going on here, Magic 8 Ball?….Outlook not so good….Totally agreed with you there.
The only one left standing after this heinous assault from Bash and Hugo, is Johnny Dollar, but only because he chooses to stand OUTSIDE of the ring. He cleverly masquerades his intimidation by pretending to aide Porno Lad from the ring, where he drops to his knees beside the man of much wealth. No aid is given to TPKid, who is left to the jackals. To the distress of BMW, TPKid is being pummeled with stomps that eventually leads him to roll outside. Dollar passes him right by with Porno Lad leaning over his shoulders for support as Johnny aides him to the backstage area.
While the challengers for their Tag Team Titles have been cleared from the ring, another individual is in the process of entering….microphone in hand and smug grin on his face. To say that the fans are none too thrilled to see Adam Chase would be the mother of all understatements.
Chase: Job well done boys…
Pats are given to the backs of Magnusson and Kincaid.
Chase: Such intensity…I love it…
The grin on Adam’s face is beyond levels of shit-eating.
Chase:…You guys are really pumped for tonight…aren’t you?
Nods from Hugo and Bash, who shouts some truly repulsive things back at the jeering fans.
Chase: And you people…you’re worked up too…you’re just as wired as the Tag Team Champions? Huh?
The reaction is one of pure spite and venom from the fans.
Chase: I thought so…Which is why this Tag Team Title match tonight…is OFF!
As if the reaction wasn’t bitter enough already.
Chase: After the events of last week’s Riot!, I can’t in good conscious allow Hugo and Bash to defend their belts tonight. Thanks to their numerous run ins with Unity…Bash and Hugo are still a little weary…they did just wrestle THREE times in the span of one night…plus…just look at them…their TOO worked up…and being that WIRED leaves them susceptible to making mistakes….And on top of all that, these two men have fulfilled their mandatory 30 day title defense clause. So they don’t HAVE to put the championships on the line tonight…and they won’t….let’s go boys.
Hugo sneers in rebuttal to the numerous slanders directed his way…while Bash offers a far more verbose reaction. The two would love to stand out here hamming it up but they follow the man who puts the bacon on their plates…their agent Chase….
Susie: So the Tag Team Titles WON’T be defended? How comes? How comes? Magic 8 Ball?….Don’t Count On it….Okay then.
The actions of the TCWC leaves the crowd feeling like they just watched the Pope being depantsed. As the Champions move through the curtains to the backstage area sirens begin to flash throughout the building and sirens are blaring. Now the crowd feels like they just watched the Pope being given a wedgie…an ambulance pulling around the stage and coming to a stop, the doors popping open with Lukas Montgomery and Mika Kozlov exiting.
Susie: The Black and Blue Crew are here….and it looks like Mika has got over her bout of maggot gut…and Lukas has got over his bout of being dragged under the ring and beaten half to death by Legion.. ..They both probably took some Pepto Bismol.
The crowd could definitely use some Pepto at the moment judging by the knots forming in their stomachs at the sight of the ambulance and the Blacklist driving it. They suffer even more intestinal woes when Mika and Montgomery slide into the ring and Lukas’ palm is filled by a microphone, forked over by new Ring Announcer Thomas Boll.
Montgomery: Looks like the Tag Title bout is off the books….good riddance…But from chaos comes opportunity…Opportunity for the Blacklist.
The fans are not liking where this is going…though that would imply that they liked where it started…which they didn’t.
Montgomery: So BLACK CRUSADE! We’ve got some issues…
Susie: Big shock there.
Montgomery: And we’re not about to wait around all night to settle said issues. So Legion…you and Whitman come out here like good little lambs…and prepare yourselves for the SLAUGHTER!
The microphone is bestowed unto Mika, who picks up right where her partner left off.
Kozlov: There’s only two members of the Black Crusade left who have yet to take a joy ride….
She gestures to the ambulance…instantly conjuring up memories of Silence, Mr. Hush and Al Todd-Meriweather being pitched into the back of it on the last edition of Riot!
Kozlov: And who are we to deny them such a thrill? And why we’re at it….how about we put Whitman III in there too? And there’s always room for Brittany Lohan and Kathryn Pearson…My gosh, Lukie…we could have quite the shindig in the back of that ambulance tonight.
Montgomery: Maybe Dollar will let us borrow the disco ball from his limo.
Kozlov: And TPKid’s lawnmower does have a beer cozy…..So let’s get this party started….
Montgomery: Let’s raise the stakes…
Lukas is on a roll…but that roll results in some flat tires and a broken axle when the arena lights go dark and suddenly there is a pounding of a drum, akin to a beating heart
The mile a minute thrill ride continues as all eyes turn to the stage…but that’s not what Legion comes ripping his way up through…Instead arms materialize above the ambulance. A bewildered gleam inhabits the eye of Montgomery at the sight of the masked Legion tearing his way through the roof of the ambulance now standing on top of it with the N.H.B Championship around his waist. The back doors to said emergency transport pops open, revealing Mr. Gaunt standing inside with both hands cupped over the handle of his cane.
Susie: As if there weren’t enough soiled under britches….I’m gonna have to do laundry a little earlier this week.
The suspense builds as Montgomery and Kozlov go rushing towards the very vehicle that they drove to the ring. Instead of setting their sights on Legion, they focus their efforts on Mr. Gaunt. Instinctively Gaunt grabs the back doors of the ambulance and grins before slamming them shut, shielding himself within. But mere doors will not stop the Blacklist, who like the velociraptors in a Spielberg flick, have mastered the ability to work a handle latch.
The doors pop open and the Blacklist reaches in to wrap hands around Gaunt’s throat, only to find THEMSELVES grabbed by Mr. Hush and Silence, the two leaping out of the back of the ambulance with Al Todd-Meriweather lingering behind them…Mr. Gaunt nowhere to be found.
Mr. Hush drills the face of Mika with palm strikes….Silence claws at various chunks of Montgomery’s anatomy with her claws…leaving occultist emblems…and Al hands off the door of the ambulance, crying out a familiar tune.
Al: BEHOLD THE POWERS OF PRESTIDIGTATION!
The Blacklist continue to reel from this Black Crusade assault….which has stolen the air right from the lungs of the masses.
Susie: And the Black Crusade all over the Blacklist. Does this count as black on black violence? Would that be considered a hate crime? Or is it racial profiling on my part? Magic 8 Ball? …Outlook not so good….My heavens!
Silence and Mr. Hush only stop exacting retribution in order to clear from the paths of their common foes….all so that Legion can step to the edge of the ambulance and dive off. The reaction from the fans gets louder somehow at the sight of Legion hitting the cross body unto both Mika and Montgomery, taking all three competitors down to the concrete.
Susie: Legion flew…he flew….if he starts to glitter in the sun…then we’ve got some serious Twilight shit going down right here.
A ‘holy shit’ chant has already started as the massive Legion demonstrates his unique ability to display the aerial arts. Plus he’s apparently got speed to boot, scrambling to his feet, taking hold of both Mika and Montgomery by their bangs and leading them up to their feet. He then takes the throat of Lukas and lifts him up off of his feet, throwing him spine first into the back doors of the ambulance, chokeslamming him against it.
A huge dent has been left around the body of Montgomery as his spine implodes against steel….leaving his partner in a particularly less than desirable predicament. Mr. Hush and Silence hold Mika up by her arms, pinning them out to her sides as Legion braces himself then delivers the dreaded shuffle side kick to his opponent’s chin.
The blow sends Kozlov flying back, crashing across the concrete then rolling over to her elbows and knees. Mr. Hush and Silence then take the wrists of Montgomery, using them to hold his arms at bay, and subject him to the Five Finger Crawl. Legion wraps his hand around Lukas’ head, squeezing and squeezing until it threatens to explode like a melon.
Susie: Legion looking to squish the head of the man who wants to challenge him for the N.H.B Championship. According to the voices speaking to me through my headset, I’m supposed to discuss the rules of the High Stakes tag match which is starting right at this point….It’s going to be Legion, the N.H.B Champion, and P Clarence Whitman III, the X-Class Champion fighting two teams of potential challengers. Should the Blacklist or the team of Brittany Lohan and Kathryn Pearson win this…they’ll get shots at Legion and Whitman for their respective titles at the End of the Year Special…if Legion and Whitman win…they go on to face the Evolution Champion in a three way title match at that same event….Good God….you’re asking a woman who can’t chew and walk simultaneously to keep track of all this?
Mika wisely rolls into the ring…which surprisingly…may be the safest area of the whole building….the ropes forming a barrier between herself and Legion…But she only avails herself of the violence for so long…because within moments the intro tunes of Brittany Lohan are blaring through the PA system and she’s barreling towards the ring.
Susie: And here comes the most muscular woman in all the cosmos…Brittany Lohan bolting down here to get her hands on the Blacklist while the getting equals all types of goods.
Indeed…Susie speculated right for once…watching mystified as Lohan slides into the ring and immediately drops down into a forearm to the side of Mika’s skull. Kozlov is still too shaken by the shuffle side kick to protect herself from the repeated right hands dropped against her forehead. Lohan then drags Mika to her feet, whips her into the turnbuckle and gets a big running start behind a Yakuza kick.
The jaw of Mika will no doubt be in need of some serious reconstructive surgery as she topples to her seat, arms falling over the middle ropes to hold herself up. Lohan then backs to the center of the ring, eyes lighting with passion….then bolts forward into a knee strike of devastating proportions. Mika’s face is crushed under the weight of the vengeful Lohan’s knee. She then grabs the bangs of her opponent, drags Kozlov to her feet and then wraps around her waist. Before Kozlov can even begin contemplating an escape, Lohan snaps back and throws her half way across the ring with a release belly to belly suplex.
Susie: This is what the Blacklist wanted…right? Right Magic 8 Ball?…Reply hazy try again….Hmmm….intriguing.
A lot of damage has already been inflicted on the Blacklist…and the rest of the entrants have yet to even make their arrival….Which suits Brittany just fine…as it gives her a lot of alone time with Kozlov….Brittany descends upon her when a crowbar smacks her directly in the small of the spine….Lohan grimaces…stands up with back arched and turns towards Kathryn Pearson!
Susie: What da? Why Pearson….whhhhy!?!
Just as Lohan turns around the crowbar swings right into her ribs, doubling her over completely. A vengeful Pearson throws down her weapon and takes off into the ropes, ricocheting off before delivering a big front dropkick to the side of her own tag team partner’s skull. Lohan collapses to the canvas then goes rolling across the ring, spilling under the ropes. She lands on her feet when Legion steps in to take advantage. He at last has released Montgomery from the Five Finger Crawl in order to lock both hands on Lohan’s throat. He begins to strangle the life out of her with his massive palms…..
Susie: Me thinks Pearson and Lohan are pretty much about to go it alone….unless the crowbar to the ribs is indicative of some type of love tap from Kathryn.
The crowbar in Kathryn’s hand is glanced at by Pearson.
Kathryn: No…Brittany…THAT’S how its done!
The crowbar is then tossed aside in order for Kathryn to catch the inbound Kozlov with a back elbow to the jaw….one that already has taken quite a few blows…putting her to her back. Kathryn then flips forward and connects with a back first senton bomb of sorts across the chest of the Blacklist representative.
Meanwhile outside of the ring Legion is strangling the very life out of Lohan, shaking her violently in the clutches of his massive hands. He slams the back of her head against the exposed turnbuckle post several times while still clutching her throat ever so tightly in his hands.
Her face is going blue….asphyxiated by this gruesome strangle hold by the masked monster. But the punishment ends when Montgomery slips past Silence and Mr. Hush…who quietly watch the actions of Legion…Lukas picking up the crowbar that was thrown to the outside. He stands up behind Legion, grabs him by the shoulder, spins him around and then drills him to the forehead with the crowbar.
Susie: Now Montgomery using the crowbar on Legion! Where’s the referee? Can’t we at least get Laymon out here stuffed into a shirt entirely too tight for him?
The crowbar swings again into the forehead of Legion, staggering the N.H.B Champion but not taking him down. Lukas realizes that he’s got to employ a different strategy to put a bit more oomph behind these strikes. Therefore he climbs up onto the apron and then rushes across it before diving off and swinging the crowbar right at Legion’s head only to have the N.H.B Champion side step him. As a result the bar connects right against the skull of Brittany Lohan, who was standing behind Legion this whole time.
The bar bends down around Brittany’s skull, and sends the burly beaut staggering into the barricade, falling against it for support. Lukas shrugs, not caring who he struck with the weapon…but then turns just as Legion shakes off the effects of the crowbar and rushes in with a big shuffle side kick, one that Montgomery ducks. The kick connects directly against Lohan’s jaw, knocking HER over the barrier and into the crowd.
Suse: Poor Lohan, she just keeps getting caught in the crossfire. She needs a friend…one with pigtails in her hair…Why? Because pigtails are just all kinds of awesome.
The kick has done its job….even though it missed it’s original target…Legion then turns back to Montgomery who charges in with crowbar still gripped in his palms. He is just about to do even more cranial damage to the nightmarish figure who plagues him so only to be caught against the stomach and chest. Legion heaves Lukas into the air and effortlessly flings him via the gorilla press right into the crowd. At that exact same moment Lohan was standing up in front row, and raises her eyes just in time to see Lukas flipping forward and crashing into her sternum. The two plummet to the concrete amidst a roar from the crowd.
Susie: AGAIN!?!
After taking out two of his opponents, Legion turns his focus back to the ring where Kathryn is standing at the ready on the top rope. She flips over backwards to the outside of the squared circle, showing no fear as she lands right on top of Legion’s shoulder with the moonsault. But there she remains…stretched over Legion’s shoulder…The N.H.B Champion shakes his head then rushes across the mats and throws her over the barricade, turning her into a human javelin.
Montgomery and Lohan have just gotten to their feet when Pearson comes flying over the barricade crashing into the both of them.
Susie: And AGAIN!?!
That very same crowbar that has already played an instrumental role in this confrontation, finds its way into the grasp of Kozlov, who is now lurking behind her masked adversary. Though the N.H.B Champion has uncanny cognitive capabilities, he seems unprepared for the blow that strikes him in the back of his skull…the crowbar cracking off his cranium.
Legion doubles over, grabbing at the knot that SHOULD be forming on his scalp….thanks to Mika….Who is currently in the process of staggering into the apron…leaning against it for support…But she quickly straightens her back and lifts the bar towards Al, Mr. Hush and Silence…even though the trio stands back, doing nothing more than watching at this point.
So what’s Mika to do….turn her attention back to Legion…that’s what…she rushes up behind him and swings the bar into the back of Legion’s leg, hitting the crease of his knee. He brings him down to a kneeling base as camera switch over to the backstage area.
Lois: Shouldn’t you be out there right now?
With their noses buried in a monitor backstage…P Clarence Whitman III, Lois Prince, Kitty Buehler and Wino…..Just Jack stand shoulder to shoulder to shoulder to shoulder….The X-Class Championship rests over the far arm of Whitman…once again freeing up the shoulder closest to Lois for snuggling purposes.
Whitman: How do you here in the States put it? I don’t want to cramp Legion’s style….
He employs the platitude to cover his cowardice.
Whitman: He’s doing quite proficient on his own…
Lois: Are you sure? Doesn’t look like he’s fairing too well at the moment.
Whitman: Oh…erm…he’s employing the rope-a-dope strategy….lulling his opponents into a false sense of security is all.
Lois: Okay….
Whitman: Which is splendid good news…If Legion is capable of withstanding this onslaught it means I’m free for the evening.
Lois: So I’ll have you all to myself?
Whitman: Indeed….
Kitty: He can help set up chairs for our next bible study.
Clearly this was not what Whitman had in mind for an evening with Prince.
Mr. Gaunt: Mr. Whitman….
Clarence goes paler than normal….looking like a downright albino as he turns to address the man who sent the chill coursing up his spine and transforming the hairs on his mustache white.
Kozlov stomps Legion over and over again to his knee then rushes into the steps behind him, leaping to the top, springing off and twisting into a roundhouse kick to the back of the N.H.B Champion’s head. Legion goes spiraling towards the barrier, collapsing against its surface, turning the steel into a makeshift crutch. Kozlov then climbs onto the apron and is about to go diving off onto the prone Champion she has set in her crosshairs. But she gets two steps before finding her ankle ensnared in the clutches of ANOTHER title holder…one that she wasn’t focused on…P Clarence Whitman III finally arriving, and just in the nick of time to lend aid to Legion.
Susie: Yay! Finally Pee-Wee-min….comes out and he timed it so wisely too…catching Mika by her cute little ankle.
The X-Class Champion has his clutches so tightly bound around Mika’s ankle that he would make a bear trap jealous. But Kozlov will not be undone, she delivers a quick punch to Whitman’s forehead, followed by another that eventually forces him to unshackle his opponent. Mika then goes back to her original victim, rushing across the apron and diving off into a double axe handle…but the last thing Legion would ever be considered…is a victim. Evident as he reaches out and catches Kozlov around her slender waist, then delivers a standing over head belly to belly suplex, flinging Mika over his masked skull, over the barricade, and crashing ultimately into the three individuals brawling in the crowd. Montgomery, Lohan and Pearson just get their arms up in time to deflect some of Kozlov’s body as she crashes into them.
Susie: And now Kozlov flies like a ballerina…..only without a tutu….Do you think Mika would look good in a frilly tutu, Magic 8 Ball?…Better not tell you now….Ewww…how mysterious….Now I’m intrigued.
The fans aren’t intrigued…their blown away by the belly to belly that has sent Mika sailing through the air and ultimately hitting land…land being the bodies of her opponents and her teammate. The man who sent her into such a deadly dive, staggers across the mats, trying to put some pressure on his leg. Another individual under tremendous pressure, happens to be his tag team partner, who bulks out his chest, flexes his muscles and tries to embody the physique of the N.H.B Champion.
He steps forward and pats Legion on the back several times. The moment the fear inspiring eyes…the darkened pupils…settle on Whitman…the obtuse X-Class Champion lifts a thumb into the air…yes…he actually gives Legion a thumbs up…and if that just isn’t terribly ill-advised enough…now Clarence actually requests a high five…a HIGH FIVE from LEGION.
But it’s not Legion’s hand that goes high…but Whitman’s body…as his head is yanked under the seat of his own partner before finding his way up to his shoulders. Legion turns, rushes across the mats and then throws Whitman over the barricade and into the bodies of all four opponents with a release power bomb.
Susie: YAY! Pee-Wee-Min….just turned into the ultimate weapon…the ultimate weapon with a mustache!
The building teems with the type of excitement one would get from battery cables hooked to testicles….watching the mass of bodies piling up amongst them. Legion isn’t through yet though…as there’s one body…one body left that hasn’t been added to said pile…his own.
Legion ascends to the apron and then towards the top rope, preparing to deliver yet another dive that would defy imagination…And being a man grounded in the realm of dreams…more accurately…nightmares…he has no trouble taking to the air once again. He ascends to the top, positions himself and prepares to moonsault into the crowd on top of the brawling….unsuspecting victims below. Referee Fitzpatrick slides into the ring….at last getting into the thick of the chaos…and trying his best to bring it under control.
As soon as the bell chimes, at his behest, Fitzpatrick turns back towards Legion and pleads with him to drop from the turnbuckle so that he can establish some order in this fight. Legion isn’t about to obey the orders of such a weak…pathetic little man…who proves just how weak and pathetic he is when he wilts like a flower under the penetrating gaze of the masked N.H.B Champion. He listens to not his own voice…but Silence’s…as she shouts towards him…channeling the voice of Legion.
Silence: Threatening the Pedagogue of Fear? Not intelligent…Fitzpatrick…not intelligent at all.
Now that it’s made crystal what Legion thinks of Fitzpatrick’s attempted authority, he braces himself for flight…all under the watchful eyes of his Black Crusade associates, who have encroached to the ringside area. He finally takes flight…but not via the moonsault into his opponents…but a forward flipping senton into the mats below.
Susie: Jehovah’s WITNESS!
The distraction from Fitzpatrick proved vital to the undoing of Legion, hitting the mats with enough force to derail his lungs of oxygen.
The ultimate spoiler…Lohan…turns her focus from the destruction she just caused on the Black Crusade to the destruction she’s about to unleash on the Blacklist. Both Mika and Montgomery have climbed over the barrier to the ringside area…just as Lohan leaps off the apron and catches them both with a flying stereo lariat. The three go down to the mats but Lohan is the first back to her feet, popping up with a gleam of pure malice in her eyes.
That gleam only intensifies when she’s spun around by the shoulder and hit across the sternum with a knife edge chop from P. Clarence Whitman III.
The chop staggers Brittany…only slightly…and this prompts Whitman to go back to the same well….using the same trick that just brought him such success….or a modicum of success at least. Another knife edge chop connects and another and another…until it becomes evident that these strikes are no more than an annoyance to Lohan rather than a punishment.
It finally dawns on Whitman how ineffective his chops are when he sees Lohan towering unscathed before him….and giving him the type of stare that instantly kinks his colon….
Susie: Magic 8 Ball…Are these chops gonna be effective against Lohan?…Better not tell you now….Oookay…just keep on being all mysterious then.
Instead of delivering chops Whitman employs his hands for a different tactic…taking Lohan’s fingers and lifting them to his lips. He places a gentlemanly kiss on the back of her knuckles…But before long Brittany puts her knuckles directly into Whitman’s lips without Clarence’s aid…because she gives him the type of punch that fattens his lips and presumably knocks teeth down his throat.
Clarence spirals towards the ropes, spills into the ring under the ropes and lies flat on his back…a position Whitman finds none too flattering….Lohan then climbs up onto the apron and is about to enter under the guise of unleashing further punishment but halts…halts when she spots Pearson cutting her off. She rushes towards Whitman, takes him around the neck and rolls him to his knees, immediately blasting the man she hopes to challenge for his X-Class Championship with one forearm after another.
Clarence’s head feels like the ball in a pinball machine, bouncing all around with each strike that connects against his temple and jaw.
Pearson then gets a running start into the ropes, ricocheting off into the kick of all kicks right to the side of Whitman’s face…taking him down to the canvas while his head is almost launched clear from his shoulders. She then bends down…hands on her knees. Glaring down into Whitman’s twitching brows and mustache.
Kathryn: You still want that group hug?
Before an answer can be given, Pearson is already springing off the middle rope and coming down with a big knee across the face of her victim. She then leaps back to her feet, springs off that same middle rope and comes down with her foot right across the bridge of the X-Class Champion’s nose. Whitman sits up and instead of palming his forehead, checks on his mustache, ensuring that not a single hair is out of place. The surprisingly aggressive Kathryn drags him back down to the canvas and then leaps to that same middle rope a third time. She then comes down with a Vader style bomb right across Whitman’s chest, then hooks his leg for the pinfall…realizing that she’s closing in on the number one contendership for the X-Class Title.
1
Fitzpatrick’s hand slaps the canvas again.
2
Whitman’s shoulder doesn’t just evade the canvas…but helps him evade a title defense against Pearson….who continues to show a mean streak…She is possibly worked up after the loss of the Tag Team Titles last week…coupled with being forced to team alongside the woman occupying her corner. She grimaces at Lohan, who watches with broad arms crossed over chest and annoyed expression.
Susie: Magic 8 Ball….Do you think that Lohan and Pearson will ever be on the same page?…Cannot predict now….Hmmmm…good question…and good way to cover your bases.
Pearson leaps over Clarence, through the ropes and to the apron. With hands gripping the top rope she leaps into the air, flying over the cables, extending her leg and planting it across Whitman’s throat. Kathryn then rolls across the ring and gets a slap on the shoulder…which makes her about as happy as watching kittens drowned.
Her eyes swing around to the face of Lohan, who now insists that Pearson hit the bricks…or be cracked in the brain with a brick. Pearson clinches her fists, yearning so badly….soooo badly to put them into the eye sockets of Lohan…but instead they linger at her side…Kathryn at last realizes she’ll have to depend on the very woman who just moments ago she cracked in the back with a crowbar.
Brittany doesn’t lash out in response to that attack, refusing to let herself get emotional…and quite enjoying the torment she’s putting Kathryn through without even having to raise a finger. She does raise one finger though….a thumb…which gestures to their corner. Kathryn stews but vacates the ring just as Lohan enters…
Susie: Yay…these two ladies are totally working together….Can I…Can I please unleash my fearful womanly battle-cry? Meow…hsssss….Wow….that was so much fun.
One person not having fun is Whitman, ho crawls across the canvas looking to make a tag to anyone…anybody…but there is no one in either of the turnbuckles. It is until he’s grabbed by the ankle and dragged to the center of the ring that people conveniently begin to take their positions in the corner. Legion climbs up and takes his spot while the Blacklist representatives are doing the same across from him.
Legion grimaces at the sight of Whitman being dragged to the center of the ring by his legs…which are parted so that Brittany can stomp him right to the gut…her foot coming dangerously close to Whitman’s testicles.
Brittany looks over her shoulder at Pearson, forced to watch and pace from her team’s corner.
Lohan: I got your back…girlfriend.
She smiles before turning her blazingly intense eyes towards Whitman….lifting her foot into the air and driving it down into nothing. Whitman slides out from under the attempted stomping of his testicles while wrapping his legs around Brittany’s knee. The X-Class Champion twists his body into the drop toe hold only to have Lohan look down instead of go down…staring at Whitman with a mask of annoyance draping her face. She crosses her arms and shakes her head as Whitman continues to try and deliver the drop toe hold, but can’t bring down the dominant Lohan.
Finally Lohan has had enough, bending down, grabbing Whitman’s legs and trying to tie them together. Their lifted up into the air for some type of cloverleaf when Clarence suddenly rolls to his side, dropping over to his knees and then reaching out and grabbing Lohan around the neck, applying a headlock variation.
The crowd is as floored as Whitman’s jaw at the sight of this counter.
Whitman: Was that NOT all around gorgeous?
He questions Legion, who keeps his mouth shut and keeps to their corner…and keeps his intimidating gaze locked on the oh so traumatized Whitman. But he won’t allow repressed trauma to stop him from taking pride in his submission counter.
Whitman: Behold the wonderful evolution of your precious P Clarence Whi….
Lohan stands up straight, heaving Whitman into the air and onto her shoulder before launching him half way across the ring. Clarence crashes down from a great height into the canvas, then reaches back for his kidneys. Brittany then swoops in and around Whitman, taking his legs, tying them up and then rolling him over to his chest in the Texas Cloverleaf.
The gamble made by Whitman tonight…has caused him to go belly up…or belly down since he finds himself in the cloverleaf. But apparently the X-Class Champion isn’t suffering enough, cause now Montgomery slides in, drops down to Whitman’s side, and places him in the EPICrossface.
Susie: Uhhh…I don’t think Montgomery is the legal man….Or something like that….he never made any type of tag that I saw…Though I have been preoccupied consulting my Magic 8 Ball.
Whitman is on the verge of tapping out to both submission holds at this point but somehow manages to hang in there. This leads Fitzpatrick to get involved, informing both Lohan and Montgomery that they cannot earn a simultaneous submission on Whitman, and that one of them will HAVE to break the hold. That’s when Kozlov reaches over the ropes and slaps Lohan’s shoulder. Even being tagged out by Kozlov does not entice Lohan to break the hold…which she only intensifies with greater vigor.
She even goes as far as to sit down on Whitman’s lower back in order to further aggravate his spine. Mika then swoops in before Lohan, catching her around the arms and dropping back into the Das-Vi-Dania…The double arm DDT slams Lohan with such ungodly force against the canvas, and proves to be the only thing that could force her to relinquish the hold.
Now Montgomery has Whitman all to himself…really digging down deep to apply as much pressure on the crossface as his upper body strength will allow…But that STILL isn’t enough cause Whitman has a shocking counter.
The champion gets his knees beneath him and takes a fortuitous forward roll, ending up back on his feet and free from the EPICrossface. He then barrels straight at Montgomery, who leaps to his feet, catches Clarence coming in and heaves him up for the spine buster. Mika springs from the middle rope behind her partner and then twists in mid-air, connecting with a roundhouse kick to Clarence’s face before he’s twisted into the spineuster.
Susie: Ouches! Nice tag team move from the Blacklist, taking out the most inexperienced member of this tag team match…..Thank you mysterious voice on my headset….but don’t worry…Magic 8 Ball and I…we’ve got this.
One person who doesn’t got this…doesn’t have a grasp on anything at the moment…would be Whitman….well…scratch that…he does have a grasp…on his swollen forehead. Painstaking lengths are taken to get to his feet only to have Mika swoop in behind him, catch the back of his head and plant him face first against the canvas. The one handed bulldog drives Whitman’s nose right into the ring. He then rolls to his back as Mika crawls up beside him, takes his head, sits him up and applies a double arm chicken-wing.
Fitting that an old school submission is being employed against an old school wrestler…Whitman finding himself on the verge of passing out from the pain inflicted on him by the very group he’s lived in such morbid fear of.
In the meanwhile Legion is NOT riling up the crowd to support his partner…and instead is watching with pure…unadulterated apathy.
Legion then turns his eyes towards Whitman, who is quite enamored with the concept of submission at this point. That is until his eyes meet with Legion’s, who leans over the ropes so that Clarence can get a very clear glimpse at his pinpoint pupils. The severity of Whitman’s plight becomes evident, realizing that he has only two options remaining, either continue suffering the Blacklist…or tap out…and suffer the wrath of his tag team partner.
Whitman tries to avoid either option as he deliberately rises to his feet with Mika continuing to trap the arms at an awkward angle. He slowly begins to work his way free from this predicament…actually getting an arm free. He then twists his body to escape when Mika transitions from the double chicken-wing into a fujiwara, forcing the X-Class Champion…the man she wants to face for the title down to the canvas.
Whitman is about to fall into the canvas but then cartwheels with one palm out of the fujiwara predicament and onto his feet. A smile as wide as the equator extends across the X-Class Champion’s face, amazed by his own counter.
Whitman: HAAAZZAAH!
He is then nailed right to the jaw with a thrust kick from Kozlov, putting him straight down to his back. A smirking Kozlov begins to tussle her hair while skipping around the body of Clarence like a playful child. After giving her victim a wink, she sashays towards her partner, Montgomery eager to get the tag and inflict further punishment on the X-Class Champion.
But that option is taken right off the table…thanks to a blind tag made by Pearson. Mika spins around feeling thoroughly violated and throws a fist at Kathryn’s face in retaliation, only to have Kathryn bend down and stick her head under Mika’s seat. She then back drops the Russian beauty over the ropes only to have Kozlov grab the top cable and transition in mid-air, landing on the apron right beside Kathryn.
Before Pearson can stop her, a boot nails her in the ribs, doubling her over and putting Kathryn’s head in position for the Das-Vi-Dania on the APRON.
Susie: This is gonna be painful…..Just like watching anything starring Lindsey Lohan.
To everyone’s surprise….maybe even Lohan’s….Brittany recovers from the Das-Vi-Dania that she suffered in order to come to the rescue of a woman she despises perhaps even more than Kozlov…her tag partner for the evening. Lohan grabs the ankle of Kozlov and pulls her back away from the double arm DDT, prompting Kozlov to spin around in a huff then launch herself off of the apron, landing on top of Brittany’s shoulders for the hurricarana.
But that’s NOT the move that is delivered…instead Brittany maintains Kozlov’s weight on her shoulders in order to deliver a disturbingly vicious power bomb against the apron. The small of Mika’s back slams so gruesomely against the apron that several fans have to turn away in morbid disgust.
Susie: I told you it was going to be filthy…disgusting….NASTAY on so many levels of nasty.
Kozlov’s lower back is swelling, just hitting the mats before her partner pounces into action. Montgomery darts across the apron and leaves off at a vengeful Lohan, who catches the inbound Lukas against her shoulder, twists around and drives him into the ground with the Double A Spine-buster…
Susie: Can you believe all the violence we’re seeing in this tag match, Magic 8 Ball?…..Reply hazy try again….Why are you keeping me in the dark…..at such arm’s length? I thought we had a special relationship.
Montgomery ends up sprawled right alongside Mika on the mats, the two ailing from the high impact slams against the mats delivered by the oh so imposing Lohan. Within the ring Kathryn looks to deliver her own onslaught, climbing the turnbuckle, reaching the top rope and setting sights on Whitman. Ultimately she takes flight, extends her elbow and plants it right against the raised knees of the X-Class Champion.
A screeching Kathryn rolls away from Whitman gripping at her shoulder while Clarence is gripping at just about every inch of his mangled anatomy. He eventually begins to crawl elbow after elbow towards Legion, who does not extend his palm to make the obligatory hot tag. The X-Class Champion reaches out for the N.H.B Champion only to have Legion refuse to tag himself into this confrontation.
Legion is as stoic as a statue….not budging…not flinching…not even drawing breath as he examines the pitiful specimen before him. Whitman lowers his hand with confusion oozing from his winded features. He realizes that this may just be another test from the Black Crusade, and he rises to pass it. He turns towards Kathryn, who has taken residency in her corner then rushes across the canvas leaping into the big splash…But once again Pearson is saved…by Lohan…who makes a blind tag of her own and drags Kathryn out of the way.
She goes on dragging, pulling Pearson through the ropes and tossing her to the outside of the ring….then Lohan puts her sights back on Whitman…unaware that he landed on the second rope instead of crashing into the top turnbuckle pad. She doesn’t learn of this until Whitman flies off the middle cable and connects with a double axe handle to the top of Brittany’s head.
The double axe handle smash does the damage but Lohan keeps upright, holding the top rope with the crease of her elbow. Whitman then slides through the ropes in front of Lohan, climbing up onto the turnbuckle once again and then diving off into another double axe handle….but Brittany reaches out and catches him around the waist.
Susie: And this might be even nastier than the last nasty.
Whitman is about to be tossed to the outside via the belly to belly but then delivers a double hand palm strikes to both sides of Lohan’s skull…ringing her bell. She staggers back and then grimaces towards Whitman who retracts his hand for another open hand palm thrust.
Lohan: Wait…wait…wait…you said you never hit women.
Whitman: You Madam are no lady.
Before he can connect with the strike he’s grabbed from behind….Montgomery recovering in time to leap to the apron, spin Clarence around, kick him to the gut and apply a front chancery. He then heaves Clarence up into the air and delivers a vertical suplex right on top of the apron. Whitman’s diminutive frame is crushed against the apron, leaving him convulsing…twitching…and writhing…all bodily movements strictly involuntary.
Lohan watches the destruction of Whitman with the slightest of smirks, before that grin is removed from her face by Lukas…The Blacklist member hopping to the apron and then throwing a thrust kick at her face. But the boot is caught mere inches from Lohan’s chin. She forces it down to the apron…but that’s not the only piece of Lukas’ body that is driven into the hardest section of the ring, because hw now receives a boot to the ribs, has both of his arms hooked and is then hit with a tiger bomb. The back of Montgomery’s head and shoulders collide directly with the apron, his body bouncing off amongst a collective ‘holy shit’ from the crowd.
Susie: That ouchie factor just upped…at Upping the Ante…YAY….I just did a total play on words.
Every fan in attendance is up…and every fan in attendance is screaming…watching as Montgomery goes twisting to the mats after taking the tiger bomb so unpredictably on top of the apron. Lohan…the unstoppable one woman demolition crew…backs up upon delivering the career shortening move and finds her shoulder tagged by Kozlov…who in spite of taking her own power bomb against the apron has recovered enough to bring the Blacklist back into the game.
Lohan spins around just as Mika leaps backwards onto her team’s turnbuckle, then comes flying off, landing directly on top of Brittany’s chest with both knees. Lohan is taken down spine first…and viciously at that…with all of Mika’s weight behind her knees, crushing Brittany’s chest and knocking all the wind out of her body.
Susie: Another high impact boo-boo-McOuchie-boo!
Brittany lies across the apron, still twitching with the crease of her elbow instinctively wrapped about the bottom rope, keeping her from falling to the outside…which is just as hazardous as being inside of the ring….Kozlov grabs hold of the ropes too in order to remain on the apron. She then stands up just as Pearson climbs up behind her and comes rushing in. Apparently Mika’s spidey sense kicks in, because she turns just in time to catch Kathryn with a boot to the ribs, backing her up and allowing Mika to get a running start behind another kick.
But this one is caught by Kathryn just before it can take her face off. She then pushes down on the foot, causing Mika’s leg to swing towards the apron and to send her flipping forward, doing a head stand with both legs wrapping around Kathryn’s neck…It seems pretty clear that a wild ride is about to be taken by the femme fatale…and that femme fatale happens to by Kozlov.
Because Kathryn counters, hooking her legs around in front of the shoulders of Mika, and then wrapping her arms around her knees…looking like she’s about to hit the styles clash. But instead she leaps into the air and comes down straight on top of her knees, driving the back of Mika’s head and neck at a truly disgusting angle against the apron.
Susie: OOOOHHHH LORD HATH MERCY!! Mika’s chin may be in her stomach right now.
The breathless fans react with yet ANOTHER round of holy snikies chants as Mika’s mangled body wilts to the mats. A stumbling and staggering Whitman slowly climbs up onto the apron behind a still kneeling Pearson…but given his stance on fighting woman…as long as said woman are not Lohan…he opts not to target Kathryn and instead goes after…who else….but Brittany Lohan…He crawls towards the woman who is still lying across the apron and grabs her hair only to have a a thumb shot directly into his eyes.
Palms cover Whitman’s eyes as he backs away, unable to stand fully upright given the pain in his back. That’s when Kathryn leaps over top of her partner and lands in front of the X-Class Champion…but in landing she vibrated the apron just enough to let the blinded Clarence know that trouble is a comin’. This prompts him to instinctively deliver a boot…having no idea that said boot is nailing the beautiful Pearson to her ribs, doubling her over. The still blinded Whitman leaps into the air, lands on top of Kathryn’s back while still holding the top rope and then falls forward, flipping Pearson completely over into a sunset flip driver, planting Kathryn not against JUST the apron but across the back of her head and shoulder on top of Lohan’s chest.
Susie: BEELZEBUB’S FU-MAN-CHU! Someone is gonna get seriously hurt here. What can we do to keep these guys safe Magic 8 Ball?…Signs point to yes…..Another very coy response, Magic 8 Ball…you sure do keep us speculating.
Whitman drops back into the ring, rolling across it after that ‘holy shit’ series of moves on the apron….moves that have left an entire pile of bodies at ringside. Lohan…Pearson…Montgomery…and Kozlov are all ailing after their shocking collisions…What’s even more shocking though, is that Legion has a hand extended into the ring, insisting that a tag be made through the curling and extension of his fingers…giving a come hither gesture. Whitman still can’t stretch his back and seems to have lost function in his lower extremities..but he pushes past it..past all these nagging injuries in order to stand and walk like a man towards Legion. But Whitman doesn’t just want to tag him in, he wants to tag him in via the high five.
Legion is perhaps grimacing beneath his mask as his body language implies annoyance…In spite of this he reaches over the ropes and slaps Whitman’s palm, tagging him in while giving a high five to boot…Just as Whitman feels that some camaraderie has been achieved between he and his partner, Whitman feels his hand being squeezed…squeezed until it almost shatters into a hundred tiny bone fragments. Legion steps over the ropes and won’t let go in spite of Clarence’s numerous attempts to free himself. The grip is employed to drag the X-Class Champion along into the nearest turnbuckle, which Legion scales backwards.
He reaches the top rope then reaches down and grabs a pleading Whitman around his neck, dead lifting him straight from the canvas and holding him upside down in a vertical suplex position for several seconds…just long enough to get the crowd fired up….
Legion then drops back and vertical suplexes Whitman out of the ring on top of the brawling bodies at ringside. Montgomery…Lohan…Kozlov…and Pearson all look up just as Legion suplexes himself and Whitman on top of all of them.
Fans: THAT WAS AWESOME! THAT WAS AWESOME!! THAT WAS AWESOME!!
Susie: Whitman continues to be the ultimate weapon! With the ultimate mustache.
The crowd is going to need some serious oxygen after this match…which is now being controlled by the N.H.B Champion. He pulls along Kozlov and rolls her into the ring…sliding in right after the potential challenger for the X-Class Championship. The Blacklist member gets to her knees just as Legion collides with a shuffle side kick right to her cheek. The face cracking kick knocks Mika to her back and then Legion falls, draping a knee across his victim’s chest.
An angst ridden Fitzpatrick…unable to get any control of this match at all…falls into position and slaps the canvas.
1
2
Miraculously Mika gets a shoulder up, staving off defeat…but failing to derail Legion’s momentum…and speaking of momentum…that’s exactly what Montgomery has plenty of.
Lukas slides into the ring and scrambles across it before diving into a cross body block on Legion only to be caught across his chest. Legion then back flips into a moonsault fall away slam, driving Lukas right on top of the laid out Mika in the process. The Blood Moon leaves the Blacklist curled upon the canvas…clutching at their injured anatomy…which is the majority of their bodies.
Just as it appears evident that Legion is about to swoop in and pick up the pinfall for his team…ensuring that he and Whitman are gifted an immediate Evolution Title shot…Lohan slides into the ring in front of him…brandishing a steel chair that she collected from beneath the ring. Disqualifications are no longer of concern to the loopy Lohan…The Final Solution’s primary interest being to dish out pain. She rushes forward with the chair in hand and is about to swing it into Legion’s face only to be caught by the throat, thrown up into the air and nailed under the jaw with the Guiding Hand.
The left handed uppercut knocks Lohan out cold and sends the chair flying out of her clutches.
Susie: Magic 8 Ball…can anyone stop Legion?….Concentrate and ask again……But concentrating hurts my brain, Magic 8 Ball.
After unleashing the Guiding Hand there seems to be nothing…nothing standing between Legion and his prey…the Blacklist. The N.H.B approaches his victims only to spot the chair now absent from the canvas. He methodically adjusts his head to stare at the woman now holding it…Kathryn Pearson…She has the chair retracted…but it descends when spotted by Legion…
The rookie eventually drops the chair and begins to back away from the menacing forth that closes in upon her.
Susie: Uh-oh…you bit off more than you can chew, Kathryn…and judging by your anorexic waistline…I’m guessing you probably have trouble chewing a kernel of corn.
Kathryn’s lower lip trembles at the sight of the imposing beast before her…one that has laid to waste every other member of this match…his own tag team partner included. Legion then extends his palms and is about to engulf the throat of Pearson before she drops down into a baseball slide through his legs. Legion then spins around and goes for the shuffle side kick on the kneeling Kathryn, who tucks into a roll under the inbound boot. She gets to her feet and then avoids a big spinning back fist from her nightmarish foe.
Susie: Look at this…Legion can’t get hold of Pearson…he just can’t get his hand son this scrappy lass.
Legion spins entirely around just as Pearson leaps to the turnbuckle and then springs off, twisting in mid-air only to at last be caught in the clutches of the monster. Legion then throws Pearson up from a fallway slam position and is about to catch her on his shoulders to deliver one of his gruesome power bomb variants, but instead he’s caught around the neck. Pearson snaps back and actually fells Legion with a DDT.
Susie: HOLY JUPITER BALLS! Pearson actually caught Legion.
The crowd is quite mystified at the image of the rookie Pearson bringing down the masked monolith…finally chipping away at the giant block of stone. He flips sideways to his back after being hit with the DDT while Kathryn, still feeling the effects of that sunset flip driver on top of Lohan, agonizingly crawls towards corner. She slips through the ropes and begins to scale the turnbuckle to a great deal of fan fare, balancing herself at this point in order to go for the dive of all dives when Legion suddenly sits straight up.
Susie: Ohhhhh nooo….more crap in me panties.
Legion then forms a crab like posture as he slithers back to his feet, turning towards the stunned Kathryn in the corner. He moves in for the kill only to have the young Pearson drop from the corner and dash to the outside of the ring, avoiding him. That’s when a recovered Montgomery rushes up behind Legion, leaps into the air and catches the N.H.B Champion by the back of the head, leaping over the ropes and dragging his opponent’s throat down on top of them.
Legion’s head snaps back and he gets a bit topsy just as Lohan steps in behind him, takes his waist and then employs every bit of her strength to lift him up off of his feet into the German suplex.
Susie: WOW-GASM!
As if the crowd wasn’t already shocked enough…now they’re minds are officially blown at the sight of Lohan’s inhuman strength…dumping the massive Legion across the back of his skull with the German. Brittany rises to her feet with the crowd chanting ‘chick with muscles,’ their tune drastically changes when Legion sits up on the canvas…once again exuding an intense and fear inspiring gaze. Just as he gets to his seat Pearson and Mika shockingly work as a team to deliver a double thrust kick right to his forehead.
Legion is finally knocked to his back and won’t be sitting up presumably for quite some time…and just to make sure that does happen….Kozlov scoops Pearson up and then slams her down right on top of Legion’s ribs.
Kozlov then turns around just as Lohan engulfs her throat with her hand. She then heaves Mika into the air and choke slams her down right on top of Legion’s sternum. The Black Crusade member kicks his legs up as all the air is knocked out of his lungs. A staggered Lohan then turns just in time to spot Montgomery but not soon enough to stop him. He wedges his hands to Brittany’s stomach, throws her up into the air and drives her down on top of Legion with a spine buster slam. Lohan rolls off of the N.H.B Champion and across the ring while Montgomery turns his focus to another champion…the holder of the X-Class Title….because he’s finally bringing an end to the onslaught against his partner.
Once again a double axe handle is employed, slamming against the top of Montgomery’s head and staggering him. Whitman looks miffed that his move didn’t bring down the Blacklist member, prompting him to get a running start behind another axe handle smash…But Lukas catches him this time, throwing him up into the air and catching him on top of his shoulders. Lukas turns around and throws Whitman down with a power bomb on top of Legion…
Susie: There should be a thirty day waiting period and a psychological evaluation before one gets to wrestle Whitman. He’s too dangerous a weapon in the wrong hands.
In trying to save his partner, Whitman actually inflicted more punishment upon him. He turns to his elbows and begins to stand up when Lukas moves in behind him, takes him around the waist and then snaps him over into a back drop driver. Clarence’s head and shoulders are driven with unfathomable force against the canvas, popping him up and over onto his side. Just then Mika rushes in and delivers a diving knee strike right to the X-Class Champion’s face, putting him on his back.
Susie: Blacklist taking over again…..I can hear the voice of Dollar in the back of my head right now….’it’s because their an established team…yada…yadda…yadda…something about my wicked goatee…yadda…yadda…yadda….banned words list….yadda…yadda…yadda…scoring system for top rope dives…yadda…yadda…yadda.’
The Blacklist aren’t quite through yet….especially as Lohan tries to get involved. She rushes in and throws a lariat that Mika, who ducks the move and then rushes towards Lukas. Montgomery turns Kozlov around, catches the small of her back to his shoulder then heaves her up into the air in a back suplex position. He then rushes forward and throws her right at Lohan, who catches her on top of her shoulders. Mika then swings around into a hurricarana that sends Brittany flying forward into the waiting clutches of Lukas. He catches her head under his seat and then heaves her up into the air, sliding an arm through her legs then dropping into the cradle piledriver.
Lukas then rolls away from his thwarted opponent, when Kathryn comes rushing in, steps off of his back, using him as a makeshift pommel horse in order to twist her body in mid-air and crash into Kozlov with a moonsault. The two are taken down to the canvas but that’s not where Pearson remains….She leaps to her feet just as Montgomery is spinning around into the Quieter. The roaring elbow misses, Pearson ducking it and Lukas’ momentum carrying him into a full spin.. He turns back towards Kathryn, who takes him by the wrist, wedges a foot to his chin then drops back into the Cool It….NOOO….Montgomery pulls his wrist free from the clutches of his opponent and wraps it around Kathryn’s ankle.
She falls to her back and then Lukas rolls Pearson over to her stomach, applying the ankle lock via both arms.
Lukas: Scream for me, Katie…scream for me!
She tries not to give into this request….but finds it harder and harder not to comply with the more torque that is placed on her ankle. The malicious grin on Lukas’ face expands with each torque he places on the ankle, about to snap it at this point if that’s what it takes to earn his team the victory.
Brittany is in the process of getting up behind Lukas and her wailing partner. A twinkle can be seen in the corner of her eye…wondering if she should get involved or allow Pearson’s suffrage to persist. But she can’t let personal bias cloud her judgment, realizing that if Pearson taps then Lohan loses her title opportunity…So she intervenes at long last. She steps up behind Montgomery and grabs his arms, forcing him to break the ankle lock and then placing him in the Buffalo Sleeper.
Susie: Lukas is going nighty night. Someone get this man some warm milk and a bed time story.
Lukas desperately tries to free himself but for once desperation proves to be nothing more than just that…desperation…for Montgomery is unable to avail himself. That’s when Mika rushes in and wedges a shoulder to Lukas’ gut, the two combining their power to shove Brittany backwards across the ring and drive her against the turnbuckle, forcing her to break the Buffalo Sleeper.
Lohan’s arms dangle over the ropes, looking absolutely spent after the collision with the corner zaps her of all remaining strength. In the meanwhile Kozlov is backing Lukas away from their foe and then turns him around as both athletes charge in to deliver a simultaneous big splash on the prone Lohan. But suddenly Brittany steps out of the corner and catches Lukas AND Mika around their waists and with a single arm heaves them BOTH into the air and onto her shoulder. Eyes almost fly from sockets as Brittany rushes out of the corner and delivers a running power slam on both Mika and Montgomery while the two were stacked on top of one another.
Susie: GANGBUSTERS!
This tag team match continues to be a truly high stakes affair….with much high impact…high flying….and high spots galore…All of which keeping the crowd in a state of near hyperventilation…And their breath continues ot be stolen right from their lungs when Legion sits up…doing the unimaginable by reaching his feet and then turning towards Pearson. Kathryn has no idea that she has become the target of Legion’s wrath, instead her focus is on her partner Lohan.
Kathryn hobbles towards Lohan and grabs her by the shoulder, spinning her around so that the two go eye to eye. Instantly Pearson begins to run off at the mouth but Lohan remains as stoic and quiet as one can be…merely watching and listening to Kathryn’s verbal tirade with a smile on her face.
Pearson: You expect me to trust you…..to trust you? I don’t think….
Suddenly both ladies spot the inbound Legion from the corners of their eyes, prompting them to simultaneously duck the massive biceps swung at their throats. They duck down and Legion goes charging into the turnbuckle, falling against it as Lohan races in, nailing a Yakuza kick while at the same Kathryn dives into a spear against his ribs.
The kick and spear connect simultaneously….and leaves Legion in a less than enviable position. The two ladies who just dished out the punishment on him step out of the corner and turn just as Whitman scrambles right into his own stereo lariat. The two duck once again and push him along, sending Clarence flying towards his partner and getting caught under the creases of his knees. Legion throws Whitman up into the air and onto his shoulders before beginning to rush out of the corner in order to power bomb him into his opponents. But then Whitman drops back, sending Legion flying forward into a stereo spear to the ribs of both Lohan AND Pearson…
The momentum of said spear sends both ladies simultaneously flipping backwards with their ribs transformed into the consistency of pure jello..
Susie: HEY! Lookie there…look at what Whitman just did…he pulled one over on Legion. Tehehehehe…plus he has an awesome mustache…That can’t be stressed enough.
The actions of Whitman not only surprise the masses but surprise Whitman himself. He stands up then turns to find his whole body…or perhaps just his throat…the focal point of Legion’s eyes. The embodiment of hell encroaches on Whitman’s personal space while Clarence backs away….realizing that all is not fair trade…that what is good for the goose is definitely not good for the gander…Legion apparently not taking kindly to having his own tactics being used against him…ie being transformed into a blunt foreign object.
But the audacity of Whitman doesn’t stop there…he not just hurricaranas Legion into the stereo spear, but actually nudges him aside….or at least aside enough so that he can get his boot up into the ribs of Montgomery, who was rushing in behind him with crowbar in mid-swing. Before it could drill Legion in the back, Whitman is able to put the kibosh on his diabolical plot, then ascends into the air and delivers a breathtaking dropkick to the sternum.
Dollar: And now Whitman saves Legion again….These two are working so well together it’s downright freaky. Their a greater odd couple than Cousin Larry and Balki. The only problem is only one of them can be Balki…cause absolutely no one wants to be Cousin Larry….NO ONE!
Whitman attempts a kip up only for to go horribly awry, ending up back on his derriere. So instead he rolls to his feet and with fists to his hips, stands before Legion, seemingly demanding respect now that he’s watched his back…quite literally…not once but twice.
Whitman: I believe now we have a mutual understanding…do we not Sir Legion?
Legion tilts his head to truly take it all in before he finally extends his palm…ready to engage in that gentlemanly handshake Whitman was looking for earlier. Clarence goes to reciprocate but all he gets is a plus sized boot to the gut, a grabbing of the back of his head and his shoulder being flung into the inbound waist of Lohan, knocking the two to the canvas.
Susie: Still no luck, Percy…..Not gonna make a friend in Legion…not even if you were to offer him a plushie….and plushies can pretty much win over anybody.
Legion is once again the only one standing in the ring…the raw…untamed manifestation of fear surveys the landscape of bodies strewn in his wake and decides that the time has at last arrived. Without saying so much as a word, Silence reads his intentions…plucking them straight out of his mind. She, Mr. Hush, and Al delve under the ring and begins to slide out a number of light-tubes, slipping them in under the ropes.
Susie: Oh good…I guess Legion is the only one tall enough to hang new light bulbs here in the MGM Grand. The Black Crusade is always so eager to help.
The light-tubes are raised into the clutches of Legion…but his eyes are focused on the downtrodden bodies of both Montgomery and Kozlov…seemingly trying to pick his victim given such a dense list of potentials. Unfortunately Lukas has been chosen as the sacrificial lamb….taken by the hair and dragged to the center of the ring, about to pay in perhaps the most grizzly fashion imaginable for the sins of the Blacklist.
Susie: Poor Lukie….he’s about to be turned into a human pin cushion….Or wait…glass cushion….That doesn’t sound right either…just forget what I said and concentrate on how cute I am.
Oddly enough duct tape is now introduced into the ring as Legion actually begins to strap the light tubes down over the body of a motionless Montgomery, still knocked into leap year by that breathtaking dropkick he receives seconds ago. The tubes are latched aroud Montgomery’s back and his arms…keeping them outstretched to his sides.
Susie: This must be what we were all warned about earlier in the week when Leeland Gaunt sent out that press release I’m being told I’m supposed to have prior knowledge of…Where the Black Crusade said something regarding the destruction of the Blacklist…But this might be even too gruesome.
No…gruesome would be setting fire to helpless individuals…gruesome would be choking defenseless wrestlers via a noose…gruesome would be taking a taser to the eye of an unsuspecting legend…this…this is justice. Now that Legion has Montgomery’s arms stretched to his sides by the light tubes….which are tied around the wrists, and all the way down his back and thighs…Legion is at last ready.
He pulls Montgomery’s head under his seat and wraps his thick arms around the waist of his victim, heaving him up into position for one of his versions of the Misery, intent on dropping Montgomery across his back directly on the light-tubes.
Susie: This is gonna be sick…
Just as Legion is about to make Montgomery pay the ultimate penance for putting his hands on Gaunt….something causes him to hesitate…that something being the arrival of Aaron Harrison…The Blacklist member races down the ramp and to the aid of his partner….but his momentum is thwarted by Mr. Hush, Silence and Al…all three individuals pouncing upon Harrison.
Susie: Harrison TRIED to get involved…but FAILED thanks to the Halloween hoodlums at ringside.
It dawns on Harrison that this is a pointless foray….that there is no way he’ll get to Montgomery because there is no breaking through the barrier that the Black Crusade have created. So he pushes his way free, just before Silence can carve a few sigils in his flesh and leaps towards the ambulance. He WILLINGLY jumps into the back and slams both doors shut, locking them from within as Silence, Mr. Hush and Al all try to get inside. Mr. Hush has even grabbed the crowbar that was dropped by Montgomery after that dropkick and is physically trying to pry the doors apart.
Susie: Get in there…get in that ambulance and someone please turn on the sirens so I can see them get all flashy.
The siren does begin to blare but not via the request of Susie…Instead Harrison has jumped behind the wheel and unintentionally hit the toggle to activate the sirens in the process of starting the ambulance…which he now speeds out of the area with the Black Crusade giving pursuit. Mr. Hush throws the crowbar at the back door as he, Al and Silence chase the vehicle and its driver into the backstage area.
Susie: And now…now there’s no one to save Montgomery….Legion is gonna do it!
With all outside parties removed from the equation, Legion heaves Montgomery up a little higher in the power bomb position and takes a few fateful steps forward when Mika slides into the ring brandishing a steel chair. She heaves it up above her head, rushing at Legion only to have Whitman race in out of nowhere and nail her with a lariat to the throat, taking her down to the canvas. He then snatches the chair off of the canvas and slams it against the ring…looking uncomfortable holding the foreign object in hand…but deeming it a necessary evil to ensure that no one else should interfere in the massacre moments away from happening.
Legion steps forward to deliver whatever sickening variant of the Misery the monster has environed…a chair brandishing Whitman ensuring no one else will impede his partner’s progress….But a chair will only go so far against the mystical forces beset against the Black Crusade.
STATIC
It slithers…it hisses….it’s split tongue lashes the air…and it’s eyes…two ebony irises embedded in a sea of interconnecting brown and black scales….The creature intertwines itself around the body of Ba’al….seated again in his den of iniquity…upon his throne of perniciousness. The serpent not the only creature writhing around him…..as Lady Justice lies chained and squirming at his feet, eyes and majority of face buried beneath the blinding clothe.
Ba’al: The serpent…a tragically misunderstood being….
The long steel blade attached to a ring around his index finger strokes the throat of the snake…lulling the venomous creature into a somber state.
Ba’al: For the serpent is the embodiment of wisdom is he not? If one subscribes to the preachings of the ‘good book,’ they would be wise to the serpent’s influence on the creation of life as we now know it to be. Your ability to read THAT book….is a testament…no pun intended…to the sacrifices that the serpent made….It knew it was breaking the rules of the omnipotent and the all powerful…but risked all in order to pass knowledge unto the unwashed and fig wearing masses.
The serpent’s head is wrapped by the taped hands of Ba’al and pulled in so he can caress its cheek with a kiss.
Ba’al: We should thank the serpent and punish the man…Punish the man for exploiting the gifts that they have been given…that the serpent sacrificed so much in order to endow them with…It’s limbs were striped away…and it’s body forced to crawl…to grovel upon the earth…and for what? So that Paula Dean could cram more butter and racial epitaphs down the gullets of American viewers? So that Psy could get millions to dance gangnam style? So that a depressed cat…with sullen eyes could positively captive and capture the hearts of millions? And so that a man…a man like you…Legion…could stand before the brainwashed heathens and masquerade yourself as a proprietor of justice…an executioner of the guilty?
Ba’al guides the head of the snake to face the camera…so that it’s eyes can penetrate the screen and the façade of the N.H.B Champion.
Ba’al: You are not the embodiment of justice…or fear…you are just another example of wasted and squandered opportunity….An embodiment of the serpent’s great mistake…You represent everything wrong with the world the serpent was instrumental in creating…But don’t worry…I’ll make sure that the serpent’s grand error is corrected…I will execute all those who have taken its knowledge and twisted and disgraced it…individuals just like you….Legion…
Montgomery has fallen to the ring….but not via the Misery..instead Legion released the Blacklist member and simply let him curl to the canvas…now intent on delivering the Misery on another individual….an individual who may just appear from the ether in an attempt to asphyxiate him with plastic…or pluck the eyes straight from his head…But thus far there are only two men in the ring…Legion…and Whitman…Percival nervously turning in circle after circle until he wants to puke both from dizziness and fear.
Ba’al: Looking for me are you, Legion? Understandable…after all, this would be the point where I’d customarily dash the ring and punish the wicked …But you fail to realize there are many instruments at my disposal to enforce justice. It won’t be MY hands that carry out tonight’s execution….
Attention deviates another writhing figure…not the serpent draped over shoulders…but the Lady Justice on the ground in front of Ba’al…He no longer strokes the jaw of the snake and instead turns his dagger ring to the throat of Justice…pulling her up viciously by her jaw and then ripping the bloodied bandages away from her eyes…fully revealing the face of Lois Prince.
As if Whitman’s face couldn’t be any whiter. A whimpering Lois produces only that…whimpers…..too stricken with fear to utter so much as a word while the dagger scrapes up and down against her jaw.
Ba’al: Mr. Whitman….you strike me a man of sophistication….a representative of everything that Legion is not….So I trust you know what must be done to get back your lovely and devout mistress before I allow the serpent to feast upon her beautiful eyes.
STATIC
There is no other choice…no other option that presents itself then and there….nothing save for Whitman swinging the chair in his clutches directly into Legion’s head….Naturally Legion knew this prospect was the only one Whitman had at his disposal…hence why his fist collides with the chair just before it could impact his face, and is sent flying across the ring out of Whitman’s clutches.
Whitman then goes to frantically explain his actions…insisting that he has no alternative left….only to have his insolent tongue silenced by the fingers leaping down his gullet….Legion applying a version of the Mandible Claw.
Susie: I guess Legion really finds Whitman’s voice to be annoying.
Legion brings Whitman to his knees and is on the verge of ripping the esophagus straight out of his mouth with the referee unable to prevent the X-Class Champion’s destruction….being far too preoccupied with regaining order outside of the ring…where Mika is being turned into a ping pong ball, paddled back and forth between the paddles of Pearson and Lohan.
So…this is the perfect opportunity…the perfect opportunity for chaos…hence why Desmond Drake appears on the stage and is in the process of ushering forth his menagerie of routinely tortured cohorts. Before Legion can finish off Whitman….Billy Mayne, Executioner and Jacob Laymon all three slide into the ring and pounce on the N.H.B Champion. Forearms and punches are delivered by all three men…coming down upon Legion from every conceivable angle…from every possible direction….overwhelming the already battle tested behemoth.
Susie: And now the Shop is all over Legion…they’re beating up on him like he just wrote the twist ending to a M. Night Shyamalan film.
In spite of having gone at it with a multitude of who’s who amongst the IWC roster…Legion still fights back…throwing jabs and chops into the bodies of the trio assaulting him….but he’s not having much luck…and neither is his partner inside of the ring. Whitman is back on his feet, continuing to gag after having fingers jabbed all the way down into his intestines…but before he can rush to the back and aid his victimized gal-pal….he’s spun by the shoulder into a knee to the ribs….Lohan is all over Clarence.
She then drags his head under his seat and wraps around his waist…setting up for a snap power bomb….She has no clue that outside of the ring Kathryn has been whooped into the steel steps by Kozlov…who then rushes into the ring to catch Lohan unaware. She charges right past Brittany, leaps to the middle rope and then springs off, twisting in mid-air and eventually connecting with a rouhouse kick right between Brittany’s face, knocking her to her back with Whitman flipping forward into an unintentional jackknife pin.
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Kozlov interferes just before the pin can be made…grabbing Whitman by the shoulder and dragging him off of the pin over to her knees and then hooking her arms….going for the double arm DDT.
But just before she can hit it…Whitman stands up and back drops Kozlov through the air so that she flips over and crashes right on top of Brittany’s shoulders. Lohan stands up just in time to catch Kozlov as she’s sent flying through the air, and then delivers a running buckle bomb…throwing Kozlov in absolutely gruesome fashion spine first into the turnbuckle. She bounces off the corner then twists over the ropes, eventually plummeting to the mats while Lohan staggers back, surveying the damage that she’s done but in the process dropping her guard against Whitman.
Clarence leaps to his feet just in time to catch Brittany around the jaw, delivering the reverse neck breaker. The back of Brittany’s head collides with the canvas in truly SICK fashion…Clarence not intending to deliver the move with such malicious intent….but doing whatever it takes….Whatever it takes to destroy anyone standing between himself and rescuing his damsel in distress.
Desperate times call for truly desperate measures as Whitman twists over to his knees and spots the steel chair a few inches removed….He crawls elbow over elbow towards the weapon, snatching it up off of the canvas and using it as a crutch to aid his brutalized body to its full upright position.
Susie: I think Whitman’s gonna take that chair…go backstage and try to find Ba’…..
STATIC
This time the distortion doesn’t last for very long before the visual pixilation is replaced not with images of a highly unorthodox nature emanating from the innards of Ba’al’s palatial estate…instead it opens on the innards of the MGM Grand…where Ba’al is standing beyond the ropes…looking into the ring with a full contemplative posture.
Normally Whitman would be scared…which he is…but not as terrified as usual considering the equalizer currently in his clutches….Armed to the teeth with a steel….serpent? Yep…as inconceivable as it may be….the chair is no longer in Percival’s clutches…instead it’s a slithering serpent writhing in his palms.
Susie: Whitman playing with his snake right in the middle of the ring…Boy…that sounded wildly inappropriate!
A yelping Whitman leaps back as the serpent falls to his feet….he leaps back right in time for Montgomery to nail the Quieter to the back of his skull….with a light-tube still wrapped around his forearm…The glass shatters into a thousand pieces across the back of Whitman’s head….knocking him from his feet to the canvas amidst a major uproar from the shocked fans.
Susie: JESUS FART!
Glass flies through the air and embeds itself in the flesh of Whitman’s skull, leaving him sprawled across the canvas and subjected to the same set of circumstances that fell him last week. While the crowd unleashes a very loud rendition of ‘holy shit’ Montgomery begins to descend upon his opponent….once the serpent has slithered from the ring and wrapped itself back around the leg of its master….but just as Lukas starts to go for the pinfall….Lohan steps in and over Montgomery’s head, hooking both of his arms and hoisting him up into the tiger driver 91.…Thankfully the only tubes still attached to Lukas merely extended to the ones lacing his forearm…otherwise the drop on the back of his neck and shoulders might have been even more gruesome….as if it wasn’t disturbing enough.
What might disturb Lohan though…is the fact that Kathryn has slid into the ring behind her and draped herself across Whitman’s chest, hooking both of his legs for the pin. Legion is unable to put the kibosh on any of this…kneeling outside of the ring with Executioner, Mayne and Laymon still putting the boots to him.
Finally Fitzpatrick drops into position and makes the count, careful to avoid the many shards of glass strewn across the canvas.
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3!
Susie: Awww….it’s over…just when I was starting to have fun? Just when I was really starting to get into my commentating groove?
The pinfall by Pearson has put finality to the situation regarding the number one contenderships…Pearson securing herself an X-Class Title shot at the End of the Year Show….and Brittany Lohan an opportunity at the No Holds Barred gold at that same event. But the two ladies will surely not be inviting one another to their victory celebrations…In fact, Pearson doesn’t even begin to rejoice over her victory before she’s vacated the ring and left Lohan to come to the realization that their team has emerged with a MASSIVE win.
Lohan turns…eyeing with spite the woman who…like the snake…slithers out of the ring….but she will not be wrapping herself about the leg of Ba’al….The very man who watches from ringside….having created so much chaos with very little physical effort. No the physicality is being saved for Legion…who suddenly sits up in typical Legion no sell fashion and as a result sends the horrified Shop scrambling up the ramp to avoid his wrath. All save for Laymon…who couldn’t get away fast enough…his pants leg caught in the clutches of Legion, who quickly pulls him in, takes the back of his head and throws him skull first into the steep steps. He bashes off and normally Legion would remain behind to finish his work…but his eyes are set on the fleeing members of the Shop.
Susie: So with this win Pearson and Lohan…they move on to face Clarence and Legion at the Year End Spectacaganza for the titles….I hope both ladies are ready.
Lukas is slid out of the ring by his ankle, falling into the clutches of Kozlov, who assists him towards the back…Lohan isn’t through with either one of them as of yet…in spite of her victory. She rolls out of the ring and begins to follow the pair…Legion perusing Drake’s underlings, Laymon and company, in equally as methodical fashion…and Kathryn slipping out of the building under the radar. This leaves Whitman and Ba’al alone to spend some quality time together. With serpent tucked around shoulder and neck, the Prince of Sin, enters the ring and stoops down to the bloodied forehead of Whitman.
Ba’al: Hmmm…the first drops of blood spilt….Tis typical for all heroes…for all messiahs to sacrifice for the cause, Whitman…Consider this…
A finger extends and slips across the lacerated forehead, removing the blood and rubbing it between his digits.
Ba’al: Consider this the first of many drops that you will sacrifice if you are a true believer…Like the savior you claim to have faith in ….the savior you use to woo your precious Lois…Prove yourself to her, Whitman, show that you truly can be her messiah…take the heroes journey…sacrifice for her.
Simon: Hey-hey, Dr. Frank-N-Furter…up here, bucko.
On the stage stands Simon Cagero, pacing back and forth with microphone firmly clutched in palm and wrestling gear already adorning his body. Ba’al hears the voice but doesn’t turn his eyes from Whitman…refusing to acknowledge the distraction on the stage….No matter how crass or insulting his words…or how much the briefcase containing the Evolution Championship swaying from his hand may glisten.
Simon: I think we’re all getting just a tad bit sick and tired of all this hocus pocus…bed knobs and broomsticks…charmed…..witches of Eastwick bullshit you’re subjecting us to, Bile…
Ba’al scoffs and the intentional mispronunciation of his name…before following said scoff with a roll of his eyes.
Simon: These people, they want to be entertained…And their not being thrilled by some Kris Angel dill hole…throwing a tizzy out here cause he probably lost his fishnet stockings…No…what WILL inspire awe….what WILL entertain and intrigue is I….Simon Cagero…the number one contender for the World Heavyweight Championship…the current holder of the Evolution gold…and the man who puts ridiculous personalities like yours in their rightful place….So no more oogie boogie…no more Nightmare Before Christmas…Jack Skeleton inspired emo tricks pulled out of your twelve dollar magic kit….Let’s give these people what they came here for…let’s give them a wrestling match…let’s give them some fucking action! What do you say people….are you fucking excited to see Simon whoop this pale….goosestepping motherfucker’s ass?
He turns in a circle, extending the microphone out to capture the screams from the crowd. Once they’ve rejoiced at the prospect, he pulls the mic back to his lips, shrugs his shoulders and tilts his head to the target within the ring…A target who expresses apathy in regards to this challenge.
Simon: Looks like they’ve said their peace…now say yours…but please refrain from using German euphemisms that I’m not even going to bother to google later to find out what in the hell your saying.
Ba’al lifts a microphone to his lips to give his rebuttal.
Ba’al:…..
The microphone falls to the canvas and Ba’al steps back…extending his palm towards the canvas…..canvas that Whitman has been rolled off of by the referee officiating the last match, serving as a crutch for the bloodied X-Class Champion….Another referee hits the scene…Fitzpatrick getting in there before Simon even has a chance to…..considering Simon is still far too preoccupied playing to the crowd.
Simon: There you have it…are you MOTHER FUCKERS ready to see me beat this Count Chocula looking bitch?…
Another extension of the mic to catch all the feedback.
Simon: That’s what I thought.
The microphone falls to the ramp and Simon darts down the steel, right past the still laid out Laymon, curled into a fetal position on the mats.
Susie: Simon Cagero versus Ba’al…with some huge stipulations…I’m being told that if Simon wins this match, Tay-Tay spends the night with Bob…if Ba’al wins….then Simon becomes Tay-Tay’s slave for a night….Thank you mysterious and omnipotent voice in my ear….Anyway…you don’t want to miss this…which you won’t…since you pretty much paid for all this crap.
One man who doesn’t miss is Ba’al….he connects with his target, tossing the serpent over the ropes onto a screeching Thomas Boll…the new ringer announcer. Ba’al’s new target then becomes Simon, who shows no hesitation about rushing across the ring, diving forward and drilling the side of the Prince’s face with his forearm. A knife edge chop across the sternum follows. Simon wasting absolutely no time in order to get this sure to be hotly contested bout underway.
Susie: And here we goes….Simon versus Ba’al….Ba’al versus Simon….With so much on the line…If Cagero wins…he gets a night with Taylor Chase…if Ba’al wins…Simon becomes Chase’s slave.
Another forearm and then another chop are delivered to Ba’al…who moves little upon being struck with these blows from his slightly smaller opponent. A wrist is then snatched and employed to send Ba’al whipping across the ring…But just before he can hit the cables Ba’al drops down and baseball slides directly under the ropes, ending up on the outside mats and then on the ramp. He makes his way towards the backstage area….completely disinterested in competing against Cagero this evening.
Susie: Where are you going Ba’al? You know you can’t go through those curtains…otherwise you’ll only be able to speak in space deprived hash tags.
Simon isn’t about to take a count out victory….wanting to entertain the masses….So it prompts him to roll to the outside, rush up behind Ba’al, grab a clutch of hair and turn the Prince of Sin around, nailing him with right hand after right hand across the forehead. Referee Ingelson rushes past both men and then leaps to the apron before signaling for the bell to get this match underway…though Cagero clearly wasn’t anticipating his arrival.
He places Ba’al in a side headlock and begins to rifle off right hand after right hand to the forehead then charges him across the mats….Ba’al’s head bounces off of the steel steps…having been used as a battering ram. The Prince of Sin then staggers back from the stairs, eyes flickering but making absolutely no attempt at mustering a defense.
At the very least he should raise his arms in a protective posture to keep his face from taking the next shot….Simon grabs him by the back of the head, charges him at the stairs and slams his face against the steel, leaving a huge dent in its surface.
Ba’al’s head bounces back and he goes twisting into the barricade while Simon uses the stairs for their original purpose. He steps up them to the apron and then interlocks his hands before leaping off into a double axe handle that connects right against the top of Ba’al’s skull, bringing him down to his seat…back propped against the barricade. Simon then backs up and gets a big running start, driving his knee directly into the face of Ba’al, sandwiching it between the steel bars of the barrier and his kneepad.
Susie: How come Ba’al isn’t doing anything? Magic 8 Ball?…Signs point to yes…..Ooookay….how am I suppose to dissect that?
Simon steps back from Ba’al…who looks up with a stoic expression on his face.
Ba’al: Please…by all means…continue.
Cagero bats an eye but in the time it takes one to blink, he rushes forward and crashes knee first against Ba’al’s face….crushing it against steel once again. He then takes the bangs of his adversary’s hair, leading him up to his feet then delivering a knife edge chop across his sternum….He leads Ba’al towards the ring and bounces his skull off of the apron. He turns his back to said apron, propping him long enough for Cagero to shout towards the crowd….requesting a chair. One is handed to him and the lucky fan gets a high five for forking over the steel.
Susie: Don’t get yourself disqualified Simon….You wouldn’t like what Tay-Tay has in mind for you…I’m sure.
The chair isn’t swung but sat up on the mats as Simon backs up the ramp, putting some space between himself and the enigmatic Ba’al. He then gets a running start, racing down the ramp, stepping off the chair and launching himself into a leg first lariat to the throat of his opponent, driving his back deeper into the apron.
Susie: GANDALF’S BEARD!
Simon backs away from the still standing Ba’al…who remains leaning against the apron. Thinking quickly, Cagero rolls into the ring then back out to break the official’s count…then steps up the ramp. He gets another running start, leaping off of the chair and flying into Ba’al…this time connecting with a big splash. Once again Ba’al does absolutely nothing…nothing to defend himself against this onslaught.
Susie: Why does Ba’al just keep standing there?
To his knees collapses Ba’al, falling forward and catching himself against the chair before he hit’s the ground. All the while Simon is climbing up onto the apron beside him, preparing to deliver another high flying blow. He stands up and rushes across the apron just as Ba’al picks up the chair and holds it in front of his face…but not to block the blow from Simon…but to actually make it even more lethal. Cagero carries forth with the running kick from the apron against the chair, driving it back against Ba’al’s face and putting him down to the mats.
The shot echoes throughout the arena after Simon delivered the mother of all punts that would even make Jason Elam envious. But Cagero is given little time to enjoy the fruits of his labors…because his excitement is replaced with confusion at the visual of Ba’al moving the chair down and placing it across his chest. He raises his head and shouts towards Simon.
Ba’al: I believe a double stomp is in order.
Simon’s heightened confusion is tossed aside in order to deliver the move…the killiest of all kill moves. He leaps from the apron and delivers a heinous double stomp right to the chair, driving it into the ribs of his opponent. He then ducks his head, rolling forth across the mats to his feet amidst a loud chorus of cheers from the crowd.
Susie: OUCH! Double the trouble…double the fun….Simon crushing the ribs…and Ba’al doing nothing about it.
Ba’al rolls towards the ring, grabs the tarp hanging from it and employs it to drag his battered body to his feet. Simon swoops in behind him and helps ascend Ba’al into the ring. He ends up lying half inside the ring with his upper body extended across the apron. Cagero slides under the bottom rope but grabs the top one, pulling himself over and twisting in mid-air in order to drop a leg right across Ba’al’s throat.
The monster of Germanic origins rolls fully into the squared circle while Cagero gets to his feet on the apron and tightly grips the top rope. He springs unto it and takes full advantage of the fact that Ba’al is not defending himself. He springs from the cable and sails through the air, crashing into his adversary’s mid-section with the big splash. He then hooks Ba’al’s leg.
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Ba’al confidently launches a shoulder from the canvas, turning away from Simon and getting to his knees while gripping at his damaged mid-section.
Ba’al: No…no….Simon…you’re not finished yet…You want to do so much more….I see it in your eyes…
Simon cannot help but to emote bewilderment.
Ba’al: Please….indulge your impulses….Indulge your sinful cravings for carnage….Beat on a defenseless man….Hurt your hapless target….Give in…Simon…give in.
Who is Cagero to turn down such a request…he takes Ba’al around the neck and delivers a leg sweep DDT on his kneeling opponent, ramming his skull hard into the canvas. All the while Ba’al keeps his hands interlocked behind his back, not even putting them out to defend himself. Simon then rolls to his feet and slaps his knee as he backs away from Ba’al, who already is rolling to his knees with an unsavory smile.
Ba’al: That’s it….more…MORE!
Simon rushes in and connects with the shining wizard on Ba’al as he continues to keep hands behind his back…not putting them in a defensive posture at all. The strike knocks Ba’al to his back before he rolls to his side right unto his feet. He turns towards Cagero with that same unflinching grin and blood actually beginning to ooze from his lower lip.
Ba’al: Mehr…mehr!
Simon lunges into the air and puts both boots right to Ba’al’s jaw, taking him down with the dropkick. Though the move was powerful enough to remove Ba’al from his feet, it doesn’t keep him down…not even for a second. Instantly he’s popping back up to his feet and getting right into Simon’s face, actually wedging a forehead against Cagero’s and pushing him back.
Ba’al: MEHR! MEHR!!
Cagero pushes Ba’al back, grounds himself and then delivers a picture perfect super kick right to the jaw of the Prince of Sin…putting him down to the canvas and finally keeping him there…for all of about three seconds. In Legion-esque fashion, Ba’al sits back up and looks at the traumatized face of Simon.
Ba’al: Pitiful Simon…absolutely pitiful….Perhaps you need proper motivation.
Simon has had about enough of this…stepping in…grabbing Ba’al around the neck and dragging him up off of the canvas while still bent over backwards in position for the Break the Silence. But just before the move can connect Ba’al spins around out of the headlock, takes Cagero by the hair and employs the grip to bend him back in a a near crab walk position. A stunned Simon looks up into the face of Ba’al from the corner of his eye.
Ba’al: I offer you carte blanche to eviscerate me and yet you hesitate? I see that you are guilty…guilty of darkness, Simon….it festers within your soul and just aches to come out….Let it out…let out the wrath. Let out the sin and be judged.
The hand gripping his hair is brushed away before Simon turns to face the man who minces much words but not much action.
Cagero rushes forward and attempts a big hurricarana only to have Ba’al push off on the back of his legs, sending him flipping completely over backwards and eventually landing back on his feet then tripping over and falling to his seat.
Ba’al: What was that? It’s not good enough Simon…It’s NOT GOOD ENOUGH!
Cagero kips up and stares at Ba’al just as the Prince of Sin interlocks hands behind his back and extends his jaw.
Ba’al: I demand better…you will give me better…
Simon goes into another super kick only to have his foot swatted aside at the last second.
Ba’al: No…no…NOOOO! You still act with mercy…..with compassion…Perhaps you need to be properly motivated.
Ba’al then rushes forward into a clothesline that Cagero blocks by putting his boot up, driving it into his bicep. His back turned towards Cagero, who wraps arms around his waist…he then drops into a backwards roll, pulling Ba’al down along with him. Simon then ends up seated across the back of Ba’al’s thighs, folding him up onto the back of his shoulders. But then Ba’al rolls through, dropping to his knees behind Simon, catching him around the ankle and heaving it up into the air.
Simon falls to his stomach with the Prince of Sin rising behind him, applying the ankle lock.
Susie: Ba’al finally doing something…other than standing there looking oh so Germanic. Wonder where Germanic people hail from? A petri-dish?
The ankle is twisted at an angle it really shouldn’t be at the hands of Ba’al….but not for long. Cagero flips over to his back, wedges feet to his opponent’s chest and kicks him off…Ba’al is sent spiraling into the turnbuckle, wedging his back against it just as Simon comes limping towards him. He then leaps into the air and drives all his weight into his opponent with a big splash. He follows this up by taking his adversary around the neck, charging him out of the corner into a bulldog….wait…just as Simon is about to leap forward, Ba’al takes him by the arm and FORCES him down to the canvas into the fujiwara.
Susie: Ewww…torture…something tells me this is right up Ba’al’s alley.
The fujiwara continues to be employed to bring Simon closer and closer to the brink.
Ba’al: Are you motivated yet? Aren’t you filled with hate, Simon? With wrath?
Just before his shoulder can be yanked out of its socket, Cagero ducks his head and rolls forward onto his back. Before he can provide a counter to the fujiwara, Ba’al gets up…still holding onto his arm and using to drag him along to his feet. He then yanks Simon forward into his shoulder, heaving him up and throwing him down ribs first into the top rope with a flapjack.
Simon bounces off the cables and staggers back into the waiting clutches of his opponent…who catches his arm and hooks his leg, applying the abdominal stretch.
Susie; And another hold applied….it’s like Ba’al is not even trying to win this really…just get Simon all feisty and fed up.
The ploy is working….Simon increasingly agitated as he throws a right hand into Ba’al’s face…followed by a second…and then a third. Ba’al chuckles as his busted lip continues to dribble blood….He then pushes down on the arm and spins Simon around, hooking both arms and applying a modification of the arms across America…The double chicken-wing brings Simon down to a knee with Ba’al stooping over him, wrenching back on the arms.
Ba’al: Indulge that anger, Simon…give in to it….embrace wrath…embrace it…
Simon tries not to listen but it’s kind of hard not to when Ba’al’s lips are just inches from his ear. To shut Ba’al up, Cagero stands up and back drops his opponent over his shoulder as the Prince of Sin tries to hold onto the double chickenwing. But Ba’al adjusts himself in mid-air, twisting his body and landing behind Cagero before wrapping arms around his neck, applying a rear naked choke.
Ba’al: What will it take Simon? You’re still not ready…ready to feed your wrath…to indulge it.
The only thing Simon is about to feed is Ba’al’s mouth with the top of Cagero’s head. He falls to his seat, connecting with a jaw breaker that forces his opponent to relinquish the submission. The sinful sadist stumbles back but then grounds himself and rushes forward.
Ba’al: Still not enough…Sim….
Cagero rolls backwards, wraps his legs around Ba’al’s waist then pushes himself off the canvas with his palms, going up into a wheelbarrow. He catches Ba’al around the neck then drops to his seat, connecting with the wheelbarrow face buster.
Ba’al bounces face first from the canvas then flips to his back as Simon rolls away from him and to the ropes. He slides under the cables and slowly stands up on the apron, wrapping his palms around the uppermost cable. The already fatigued Simon lays in wait…knees bent….ready to take to the air as Ba’al is slow to reach his feet…wear and tear AT LAST setting in.. He gets up just as Cagero springs onto the top rope and flies half way across the ring into a double axe handle smash…But then Ba’al reaches out, catches him by the creases of his knees in mid-air and forces him down to the canvas. He interlocks the legs around one another and then rolls Simon to his stomach, stepping over the back and applying a Texas Cloverleaf.
Horrified eyes watch as Simon gets to his elbows, face twisted by a grimace of pain.
Susie: And ANOTHER hold? All these submissions are just pissing Cagero off more and more….which is precisely Ba’al’s intent.
The Prince of Sin really twists up the legs of Cagero and inflicts a lot of destruction to the lower back as he applies this gruesome submission. But Simon will not let the hold defeat him…he will not be bested by it…hence why he digs his claws into the canvas and begins desperately to inch his way across the ring….centimeter after centimeter Simon is getting closer to the ropes…before at last reaching out and grabbing the bottom cable.
Official Ingelson starts a five count…reaching four before Ba’al breaks the hold. He may release the submission but he doesn’t let go of Cagero…he grabs his legs, drags him to the center of the ring…flops him over to his back then appears ready to apply another submission…But instead of locking in a hold…Ba’al stomps right down dangerously close to Simon’s crotch.
Susie: Oh no….Simon’s talliwacker is gonna be all smoshed and nasty looking….It’ll probably look worse than Owen Wilson‘s nose.
Justifiably the official is shouting directly into the face of Ba’al…but then takes a step or two back when he sees the eyes of the German warrior staring back at him. He then leaps into the air and comes down knee first against Simon’s crotch region.
Susie: Is Ba’al gonna get disqualified here, Magic 8 Ball?….Reply hazy try again….Why do you keep torturing me with these vague responses?
Simon rolls around gripping at the favorite piece of his anatomy…his crotch and all the areas around it swelling as a result of the stomps and knee strikes delivered to it. But Ba’al has seemingly just gotten started, standing up, taking Simon’s legs, stretching them out to his sides and then falling forehead first against Cagero’s testicles.
A screech of pain emanates from Simon, who rolls away from Ba’al gripping at his lower extremities with one hand while reaching out and grabbing the ropes with the other. He reaches his feet just as Ba’al grabs him by the legs, trying to pull him back to the center of the ring. However, Simon wraps both hands around the top rope now as his legs are stretched out above the ring. His body forms a straight line, elevated high above the canvas for only a moment before Ba’al delivers a kick…again…just south of the waistline…ALMOST striking the testicles for a fourth time.
Though the thought of chastising Ba’al has Official Ingelson wetting his undershorts…he is forced to conquer his fear. He steps in and gives Ba’al one final warning about targeting Cagero’s crotch, resulting in a benign grin from the combatant. He then turns back towards Simon, who has utilized the turnbuckle to reach his feet…albeit stooped over holding at his hamstring
In spite of this Simon is able to get both boots up into the inbound face of his opposition. Ba’al stumbles back holding at his jaw just as Simon pulls himself up the turnbuckle, preparing to take flight. But his adversary charges in, reaching out for Cagero, who leap frogs his opponent and also delivers a double stomp to the back of his head as he flies over his head.
Ba’al falls into the turnbuckle as Simon rushes into the ropes behind him, bounces off the far ropes to build some momentum and then leaps into the air. Ultimately he connects with a dropkick right to the upper back of Ba’al, driving him hard into the turnbuckle and causing him to bounce off right into the waiting arms of the controversial Cagero.
Simon hooks an arm and a leg before dropping back into the Russian Leg sweep, planting Ba’al down hard to the canvas. He then rolls away to his feet, grabs the top rope, flies over to the apron then employs said cable to pull himself over into a forward flipping leg drop. It connects directly across Ba’al’s throat and then Simon goes rolling back, right through the ropes to the apron once more. He takes the top cable, leaps up onto it and then flies off into a dropping elbow strike across Ba’al’s sternum.
Susie: Keep it up Simon…keep on fighting you twiggy little bastard. You’ve finally got Ba’al on the fences…..What does that even mean by the way? What’s the harm in standing on a fence…unless it’s electrical…and you decide to pee on it.
Simon rolls through ropes to apron, stands up, takes the top cable and then pulls himself over into a senton splash only to have Ba’al surprisingly leap to his feet…or a foot to be more accurate…lifting a knee into the air and catching Simon’s back across it. The modified back breaker causes Simon to cry out in agony as he falls to his stomach, body twitching and spinal column enflamed from the pain.
Ba’al then leaps over his back, pulls him up and places him in the camel clutch, sitting as far down on the kidneys as possible. The interlocked hands of Ba’al rear back on the jaw but then begin to dig into various orifices on his face. Fingers dig into Simon’s nostrils and the corners of his mouth…Ba’al determined to mutilate Cagero…or at least fire him up to the point where he at last embraces wrath.
Susie: Wait a minute….why am I supporting Simon? I just realized…if he wins this match…Bob has to go out with Tay-Tay….That’s just torture…torture for Bob….So you know what…consider my allegiances officially swamped for the night….Go go Ba’al…you mighty morphin Ba’al!
Simon spit’s the fingers out of his mouth and sneezes some from his nostrils before sliding back, right through Ba’al’s legs He leaps to his feet directly behind Ba’al and then rushes into the ropes behind him, ricocheting off and charging back in only to have the kneeling Prince of Sin dive head first right into his crotch.
The top of his skull slams against Simon’s genitalia and sends him flipping forward, right over his opponent where he eventually crashes across his back.
Susie: Again to the nuts. Simon might need transplant balls after this. He should get gorilla testicles…only because that would be the greatest thing in the history of greatness.
Official Ingelson is ALMOST at the end of the very small fragment of rope he’s given to Ba’al….forced to call for the bell should he target the crotch of Cagero again. Ba’al isn’t attacking the lower extremities at the moment though…instead he’s crawling towards Simon, who is busy rolling from side to side, both hands cupping his testicles.
Ba’al: Angry yet? Aren’t you furious, Simon…Furious that all you’re well laid…intricately detailed plans threaten to be ruined by me…..Nothing but a pale….poor man’s Kris Angel?
A knee launches up from the canvas and nails Ba’al to the temple, forcing him to shut up. Simon then rolls back to his feet just as Ba’al comes racing in to catch him only to be grabbed around the throat, Cagero looking to counter into the Break the Silence.
Ba’al: That’s NOT good enough!
Ba’al twists around out of the downward spiral predicament and turns so that his shoulder wedges directly to Simon’s spine, heaving him up into a back drop suplex. Just as it seems that Ba’al is on the verge of vanquishing Cagero, Simon flips over, lands on his feet then waits for his opponent to spin around. Just as Ba’al completes his rotation…he turns directly into the super kick to near jaw fracturing impact.
Ba’al FINALLY goes down…and no longer flaps his gums as he lays there….legitimately hurt by the super kick.
Susie: The Mother Fucking Superkick of all Mother Fucking Superkicks just landed…and hey….Ba’al stopped talking….that’s a total miracle in and of itself.
A pinfall would be the next logical step…but Simon instead takes a fateful leap to the top rope, turning to face his opponent in the process. It takes only a moment for Simon to balance himself before going airborne, flying high and with a beautifully delivered frog splash…driving every bit of vigor from Ba’al’s body and at last leaving him susceptible to the pin.
The crowd is collectively on its feet….watching with baited breath as Cagero hooks both of Ba’al’s legs and leans back first into the chest of his adversary.
Susie: Ba’al gonna lose…gonna lose baaaad.…
The ref’s about to put an end to this….
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Simon celebrated a bit two early, mouthing the word ‘three’ but not hearing that third slap of the canvas….why/ Because Ba’al has just done the unthinkable, launching his shoulder off of the canvas and into the air.
Susie: TWWWWOOO!
The crowd crammed into the MGM grand really need some extra elbow room considering their either throwing arms out to their sides or on top of their heads. They’re perhaps even more surprised than Cagero by Ba’al’s kick out…Simon begins to pose the obligatory question of what it will take to finish off Ba’al. He gets refuses to have his momentum derailed as he reaches his feet, reaches the turnbuckle, slaps the top pad and gets a big reaction from the crowd, proud at the sight of his unshakeable determination. He scales rope after rope, reaching the top when Ba’al rolls to his feet and then scrambles up behind an unsuspecting Simon. He catches Cagero around the waist and then begins to drop back into the German suplex….to drop Simon square on the back of his neck….fracturing it on impact.
But Simon’s neck will not be obliterated…grabbing the top cable and keeping from having his career tragically cut short…He then further prevents career annihilation by lobbing an elbow into the temple of Ba’al….followed by another…and then another…He then reaches back, wraps an arm around Ba’al’s neck then steps up the turnbuckle, on the verge of flipping back into a super sliced bread but monkey see…monkey do…Ba’al grabbing the top rope and preventing being dragged down to the canvas with career shortening results.
As thus Simon goes flipping right over top of Ba’al’s shoulder, landing on his feet behind his opponent still standing on the turnbuckle. The moment Cagero lands, Ba’al leaps off the turnbuckle, twists in mid-air and flies right over his adversary’s back, and catches him around the waist. He pulls him down into a sunset flip but let’s Cagero roll out of the pin so that he can catch him by the arm, swing around it and then wrench back on the shoulder with a fujiwara!
Susie: Another hold on the arm…another hold on the arm..get excited…please get excited….I don’t want to have to work too hard to get you pumped up.
The free hand of Simon lifts into the air, verging on slapping the canvas much to the dismay of the screeching fans…who somehow still have oxygen enough left in their lungs to plead with Cagero NOT to give up…He doesn’t…he hangs fast…he endures…he fights against the punishment. He gets to his knee…then gets one foot under him….forcing his body up ever so slowly with Ba’al forced to rise at his side as he pugnaciously holds onto the submission.
Cagero then twists around out of the fujiwara, wedging his back to Ba’al’s in the process while reaching out and taking the master of the arcane around his chin. He then drops down into the hangman’s neck breaker. But he doesn’t let go of the jaw after hitting the move, he instead bridges himself back up to his feet with Ba’al’s head still trapped in his clutches and his body refusing to go down…That suits Simon just fine…because it allows him to turn Ba’al around into the front chancery and then rush at the nearby turnbuckle, stepping up the cables and then leaping from the top rope.
He twists Ba’al around into a tornado DDT and comes down right on his feet when his opponent plucks his head free, catches Simon by the arm and counters into the fujiwara once more. But this time he stands up behind Simon, grabs BOTH of his arms, hooking them before diving forward into a bridging double chickening….BUT…Simon pulls his head out from between Ba’al’s shoulder blades, slides his arms out of Ba’al’s clutches and catches Ba’al around the neck.
He bridges his opponent up for the reverse DDT only to have the macabre individual spin around, wedge a shoulder to Cagero’s gut and shove him backwards across the ring, about to drive him spine first into the turnbuckle.
At the last second Cagero jumps into the air, lands on the middle rope and pushes off, twisting Ba’al around with a front chancery into the tornado DDT. The top of Ba’al’s head bounces off the canvas and he FLIPS over to his seat.
Susie: Wow wee…this got pretty fast paced….Faster than my heart when I drink a Red Bull…I think I can hear it beating.
At long last this match is starting to take its toll on Ba’al…not quite as indestructible as he would like to believe…and now actually on the brink of taking his first pin. Simon crawls into the cover….hooking BOTH legs this time and leaning back with all his body weight across Ba’al’s chest, making sure there is NO kick out.
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Not only is there a kick out…but Ba’al actually counters by reaching up, hooking one of Simon’s arms and then rolling him over into what at first appears to be a crucifix pin. But then he lets Cagero drop over to his knees while still clutching Simon’s arms, standing up at his side and then flipping forward into a bridging double chickenwing…The Cattle Mutilation is applied…and locked in this time.
Susie: I’m being told this is called a Cattle Mutilation…which is what Louie Anderson does whenever he visit’s a ranch and hasn’t ingested his mandatory twenty cheese burgers before hand.
The Cattle Mutilation is living up to its name…and no…not because Simon is secretly bovine in origins…but because it’s mutilating his arms. He squirms backwards across his stomach like the very sname Ba’al brought to the ring with him…but he doesn’t get very far. Ba’al wrenches up on the arms again…trying to rip them right out of their shoulders.
But even with this pain…this agonizing…crippling pain…Simon still manages to get a foot out and drape it over the bottom rope just before he can be forced into submission.
Susie: Wow….we haven’t seen Ba’al tested like this…mostly because we’ve never actually seen him wrestle…except if you count wrestling on New Age….and a match against Executioner to be an actual match…which I don’t think anyone does.
Ba’al breaks the submission and turns towards Simon…yet again running his mouth.
Ba’al: Good for you Simon…good for you…Are you probably motivated…yet?
A knife edge chop across the chest…a very stiff one at that answers his question and staggers Ba’al. He then steps back in only to be caught around the skull and dragged down into a jaw breaker across the top of Simon’s head. Ba’al staggers in reverse once more but then quickly collects himself and launches back into an offensive. He rushes right at Simon who leaps into the air, steps off his opponent’s knee and delivers the enzugari to the back of the skull. But Ba’al ducks just in time to avoid the strike, causing Cagero to fall flat on his face with nothing to show for his troubles. Ba’al then reaches down and begins to hook both of his opponent’s arms, stepping over Simon’s back in the process in order to apply the Cattle Mutilation. But Simon slips back right through Ba’al’s legs, stepping behind him and waiting for his opposition to turn.
The moment Ba’al turns around he’s caught with a lethal step up enzugari to the back of his skull, sending him into a full circle. For the first time in his IWC career, Ba’al is in dire straights, staggering around and falling into the turnbuckle as Simon steps in, grabs his legs and places one over the middle cable, then the other over the perpindicular middle rope. Simon takes a step back while overlooking the fans who scream..who rejoice…who quite clearly are getting very hyped for what Simon is gonna do next…Which at first is the obligatory Hogan-esque cupping up of the ear to gauge their reaction, but what he does next is very anti-Hogan…He rushes in and delivers a big kick blatantly to Ba’al’s crotch….
Susie: It’s GOOD! Two points!
The crowd is quite pleased to see Ba’al get a taste of his own medicine and for him now go slumping forward with his legs still straddling the middle ropes. Simon acts quickly, not knowing when he’ll have his opponent in such a prone state like this again. He swoops in, steps up the corner, catches Ba’al around the neck and begins to pull him out of the ropes while the official is chastising him the whole time for that most blatant of boots to the crotch….A move that is the least of Ba’al’s worries, considering it now appears that Simon is setting up to hit the Break the Silence off the turnbuckle.
He has Ba’al’s neck caught and now all its going to take is that one fateful leap…which ios performed with gusto…Simon going airborne and the fans leaving their seats…but Ba’al holding his position. He wraps his hands around the top rope and prevents Cagero from delivering the Break the Silence, causing him to drop down to the canvas on his feet with nothing to truly show for his efforts.
Ba’al then stands up on the turnbuckle and goes airborne of his own accord, leaping through the air and extending his forearm for the big knock out shot only to have Simon side step him, catch his arm and drag him down to the canvas into the fujiwara.
Susie: Every one of Ba’al’s sins coming back to haunt him in this match now. Simon is closing in on making Tay-Tay spend the night with Bob….
Ba’al will not indulge a desire to spare his body any further suffrage by virtue of submission…He puts his knees to the canvas and just begins to stand up even it risks having his shoulder dislocated. Cagero then stands up, grabs BOTH of Ba’al’s arms and flips forward into the Hands Across America….locking in his own Cattle Mutilation to an absolutely explosive reaction from the crowd.
It seems…as inconceivable the prospect…that Ba’al is left with no other recourse at the moment but to submit.
Susie: Don’t tap out Ba’al…Don’t tap out! Bob is all mine…we’re destined to be together!
It appears that Ba’al IS indulging his desire to stave off further punishment, as he extends his open palm out over the canvas, looking to slap it. Simon can feel it…that he’s on the verge of victory, that he’s about to be the first man to hand Ba’al a loss. But that feeling must of have been no more than gas, because Ba’al instead rolls to his side and pulls Cagero out of his bridging position along with him. Both men end up upright with Cagero standing behind Ba’al with both arms still hooked.
But Ba’al then goes rushing forward, dragging Simon along with him as Cagero still tries to maintain the grasp on the arms. Suddenly Ba’al drops down right in front of the turnbuckle, causing Simon’s momentum to send him flying over his back, chest first right into the top rope.
Simon collides with the corner with enough force to knock him loopy but not to knock him down. This serves to the ends of Ba’al, who stands up, grabs Simon’s legs, heaves them up into the air so that his opponent is elevated up and over the canvas. Clearly Ba’al is about to go for that same kick to the Johnson that he did earlier in the match, stepping back wand holding Simon up by his ankles while Cagero’s arms are draped over the top rope.. He now move sin for the kick only to have Cagero twist his body around, wrap his legs around Ba’al’s neck and snap back into a hurricarana.
It’s Ba’al’s face that collides with the turnbuckle this time, launched into the middle pad and snapping his head back….while Cagero rolls to the middle of the ring.
Simon now crouches and waits for Ba’al to get up…anticipating his ascension. It takes several moments for Ba’al to get up, as this match finally seems to be testing his threshold for pain.
The moment he reaches his feet, Cagero spins him around and looks for that same super kick that has served him so effectively throughout the course of this match. But Ba’al ducks mere seconds before his head could be cleaved from shoulders by the kick. He then steps in behind Simon and grabs his shoulders but Cagero bends forward and slips right out of his opponent’s clutches, getting behind him and grabbing his arms, looking for the Cattle Mutilation for a second time.
Now Ba’al thinks quickly, dropping to his knees and using the strength in his hooked arms to flip Cagero over his head and across the canvas. Simon rolls across the ring straight to his feet when Ba’al lunges into the air, catches him around the neck and drags him down to the canvas into the Zig-Zag.
Susie: AAAYEEEE! That was devastating and I’m sure that it has a really cool name…Johnny Dollar just isn’t here to tell us the name of it.
Ba’al acts quickly, turning over into the lateral press on a stunned Cagero.
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3!
Shockingly…in spite of his past perseverance and resiliency…Simon does not get a shoulder up in time to stave off defeat here….to keep Ba’al from performing his post-match celebration…though a man of Ba’al’s stature isn’t about to spike a football….dance the jig…or start a wave from the fans…no…instead he begins to run his mouth yet again… Once again speaking mere inches from an unconscious Cagero’s ear.
Ba’al: It’s clear Simon…you are not guilty of wrath…you are guilty of pride….of sloth…
As the judgment is passed, a recovered Laymon, who remained at ringside throughout the entire duration of this match, has snatched hold of the briefcase containing the Evolution Championship and is now in the process of rushing backstage with it in his clutches.
Ba’al: I believe penance shall be paid by the extraction not of a pound of flesh…but by your manipulative…vulgar tongue…
A blade ring is slid down upon the index finger of Ba’al and now extends towards the mouth he is forcing open.
STATIC
Mr. Gaunt: Hello, Mr. Lord of Flies….
The shadowy eyes of Ba’al have turned to embrace the image of the twisted lips inhabiting the Cartel-tron, belonging to Mr. Gaunt…speaking from an as yet disclosed location.
Mr. Gaunt: We’ve yet to engage in the arbitrary proper introduction….I am Mister Gaunt….Leeland to only a select few….the guiding hand behind a certain coterie of Crusaders. Crusaders it seems, you have passed judgment upon, and convicted of crimes of both a highly contrived and rather fictitious nature. Though I’m afraid that’s all old hat…our members have been judged quite literally since we were spawned into existence…and its these dogmatic condemnations that drew us together into the very idiosyncratic compendium of spell casting….butt-punching…sigil prescribing curiosities affectionately dubbed the Black Crusade.
Ba’al is amused…or at least feigns said amusement.
Mr. Gaunt: It is nothing new for the Black Crusade to be persecuted on the basis of our excessively pronounced differences. That no longer bothers us…but the execution of your ‘judgments’ are of concern to my menagerie of eccentric followers. And although we would certainly enjoy the sight of Legion materializing through the stage and passing his own brand of justice upon you, I’ve quelled his vengeful hand at the moment. No…I’m afraid the fans must despair a bit longer, as Ba’al will continue to be in our midst…sitting in thrones….repetitiously reenacting the opening credits from Tales from the Crypt via his long spiraling staircases and spacious dens of iniquity….Yes, we shall all suffer equally with the knowledge that I’m ALLOWING you to exist, Ba’al….at least until I have my answers.
Ba’al is intrigued…or at least feigns said intrigue.
Mr. Gaunt: I am a man who prides himself on clarity, Mr. Lord of Flies. I do not act impulsively…not before all facts are in proper order.. So I’m requesting a summit of sorts, Mr. Lord of Flies….Follow the trail….track me down….and allow yourself the incredibly rare opportunity to have the leader of the very group you tend to persecute all to yourself. You and me…alone….to satiate my need for clarity…and your need for punishing the unjust.
STATIC
Ba’al doesn’t have to feign anything…his expression entirely genuine…legitimately interested in the offer made by Gaunt…one that prompts him to leave behind the ailing Cagero to track down the Black Crusade’s luminary/.
Susie: Ba’al being summoned to a meeting with Mr. Gaunt? I bet their going to have their discussion over many goblets…and maybe a few gummy worms…nothing is more gothic than gummy worms and goblets…unless the two were combined somehow…But that is mind blowing stuff.
Simon sits up….eyes half opened….drearily embracing the unbearable plight before him….knowing that he will now be forced into servitude under Taylor Chase…and where the hell is his Evolution Championship?
Hey Lohan…Brittany Lohan….
Every muscle in her body hurts…and now she can add inflicted ears to her list of maladies….The Blue Eyed Demon stops and turns those very fear inducing pupils to the face of an inbound Mark Comeau, walking up right behind her with camera in tow.
Comeau: Big win out there this evening…
The obvious has been stated by Mark…who takes an obligatory swig of liquid courage from his flask.
Comeau: Now that you have an N.H.B Championship opportunity…how do you intend on handling Legion in a straight up one on one affai….?
A palm engulfs the microphone…that palm belonging to Lohan and preventing Mark from listening to himself speak…denied even the slightest of pleasures. She only stops cupping the mic so that she can instead her hand around Mark’s wrist and pull it towards her mouth, microphone inches from her lips.
Brittany: Mark…I’d love to stand back here predicting the future…but I have a lot on my plate here in the present…I’ve dealt with Legion earlier tonight, and now its time for me to turn my focus elsewhere….See….while you look at my win tonight as some sort of accomplishment….I consider it an abysmal failure…Because while my victory met my own ends, it did absolutely nothing for Taylor.
She looks quite perturbed with herself.
Brittany: I had the opportunity to take out two thirds of the Blacklist to make sure they wouldn’t play a role in her World Title match later tonight…but I…I….let them slip through my fingers…I was too preoccupied with personal fulfillment, than doing what I was brought here to do….protecting Taylor…
She IS quite perturbed with herself.
Brittany: It’s a mistake I’ll fix by the end of the night though….this is my solemn promise…I will…..
Apparently Brittany’s attention span can be measured in nano-seconds…cause her fixation turns from Mark…to something of the bright…shiny and noisy variety…She finds herself instantly enamored by the monitor seated on the table in the long narrow corridor where the two consult.
Brittany: One minute.
No problem for Mark…as every minute gives him another chance to drink down some precious nectar. He puts up no protest as Lohan ignores him in favor of the tiny screen…which suddenly becomes larger when the feed cuts to the interior of the Manhattan Center…cameras fixated upon the Cartel-tron…which is playing the exact same footage that has Lohan mesmerized so.
After all of the chaos…after all the action…after all the anarchy…the crowd really needs a breather….really needs a moment to collect themselves. But this is the IWC….and their determined to create as many cardiac arrests as possible. Hence why at that very moment the Cartel-tron flashes to light with an image of Tabitha Silverstone…World Heavyweight Championship draped right over her shoulder.
Silverstone: To the powers that be….I…..Tabitha Silverstone have an announcement to make…
The fact that it’s taken so long for Tabitha to be acknowledged truly sticks in her crawl…evident by the twisted grimace on her face. Though she should be riding high considering that she’s presently in the lap of luxury from her clandestine location. She’s surrounded by multiple individuals adorned in masks and track suits matching the individual who stole the World Championship that happens to be in her clutches. One of them is pouring her a glass of whine and another fans her off with a giant palm leaf as she lies on a leather sofa….looking quite hedonistic.
Silverstone: My client’s career was tragically cut short thanks to the actions of one Taylor Chase…And my demands…my pleas for retribution to be taken against Tay-Tay… have fallen on deaf ears…They’ve been outright IGNORED…
The World Title is addressed by the twinkling eyes of Tabitha.
Silverstone: But I’m not being ignored anymore…Am I?
Eyes go back to addressing the masses.
Silverstone: If the IWC has any desire of seeing this World Heavyweight Championship again…they WILL meet my demands….
That grimace is gone…but replacing it is something equally as twisted…a smile. The crowd in attendance, watching all of this transpire on the Cartel-tron are torn….some understanding where Silverstone is coming from….but others responding with bile as the result of her theft of the World Championship.
Slowly Lohan backs away from the monitor…her eyes sparkling…and all the wrenches removed from the spinning wheels in her head. Eventually she ends up back at Mark’s side, pulling his microphone towards her lips for a second time.
Brittany: Funny how things work around here, isn’t it? Sometimes the universe just provides.
The mic is flung away from Lohan’s mouth, almost causing Mark to lose his footing as he tries to keep hold of it…He then watches the incredibly strong and incredibly determined Brittany march away all the while hatching her plot….which no doubt will come to fruition this evening.
Obstacles…there’s a lot of them for Taylor Chase to overcome…but it doesn’t stop her…it doesn’t keep her out of the MGM Grand Gardens that evening….Though most would tuck tail and hide beneath bed-sheets, Tay-Tay is ever vigilant about defending her championship…and retaining it in spite of hands shackled behind her back…no disqualifications…and the fact that Rose Savior…a woman out for her blood….is the special guest referee.
Tay-Tay: Hey….pizza face with the extra servings of pepperoni.
It appears that Tay-Tay can do one thing about the many misfortunes piling up to see her undoing as champion….even if it means speaking to the greasy Stage-hand…tearing him away from his conversation with other such underpaid interns.
Stage-Hand: Oh erm…uhhh…Mrs. Chase…so nice to….
Tay-Tay: Yeah-yeah-yeah…don’t need to hear your life story….just tell me where I can find Rose Savior.
The poor stage-hand seems too awe stricken by Taylor’s beauty to give a response.
Tay-Tay: Here….
A small clothe is withdrawn from her pocket and tossed into the palms of the Stage-Hand.
Tay-Tay: For the drool.
He swipes his lips and goes to hand back the clothe.
Tay-Tay: Keep it….Now where’s Rose?
Shoulders shrug.
Tay-Tay: Predictable.
Off and onward walks the World Champion…still in search for the woman who has been chosen to referee her World Title match this evening.
The opening instrumental schism to “Crying Out” from Shinedown elicits some confusion from the crowd before they see the images on the Cartel-tron juxtaposed against these tunes…Scenes featuring Desmond Drake’s ascension to the proverbial throne….A throne amassed upon a pile of bodies….A throne where Orlando Cruze was sat before having his power torn from beneath him.
The crowd is taken from the emotional high from that last tag team bout to an all time low at the image of Desmond Drake, who doesn’t come to the stage alone. Following behind the dapper Desmond in his gray vest and white silk shirt, is the head of his security staff, the mask wearing Executioner…the General Manager of Riot!, the power tie wearing Jacob Laymon…and the Head of Media Relations…the cervical collar wearing Billy Mayne. Three men who have already made quite the impact on tonight’s telecast thanks to their attack on Legion…preventing the much ballyhooed light-tube crucifixion the crowd was ever so yearning to witness.
Susie: The Lollipop Guild has arrived…prepare yourselves for song and dance everyone….Maybe even…maybe even…BREAK DANCING! What do you think Magic 8 Ball…am I going to be permitted to break dance tonight with Desmond and the rest of the Lollipop Guild?….Don’t count on it….Rats!
Drake walks around with impunity, looking like the villainous Arjen Rudd…operating with total diplomatic immunity…but instead of putting a bullet in Riggs, Desmond aims his shots at the negative Vegas crowd. Predictably their responses aren’t the kindest regarding Desmond and his SHOP, as they take ownership of the stage tonight…just like Drake has taken ownership over so many other things in his short tenure….including the microphone in his palm and a briefcase in the hand of Executioner.
Drake: Wow….
His palm drawls to the back of his head as he lowers his chin to his chest.
Drake: Just…yeah…wow…
The dopiest of expressions is conjured by Drake, who even employs sad puppy dog eyes and a protruding lower lip.
Drake: I really love saying these four little words…this one innocuous phrase has never bared so much meaning….
“YOU ARE ALL WELCOMED…”
The words…the way they were delivered…and the smile…no…no…the smirk on Desmond’s face all contribute to a feeling of stomach twisting repulsion from the fans.
Drake: Two amazing matches already…and we‘re just getting started!
Somehow he manages to replace the fans’ need for Pepto Bismol with legitimate hype.
Drake: And I’m the man who put it all together.
There…he just killed it…the hype is dead.
Drake: In fact…I put aaaaall of THIS together tonight.
He gestures to the Cartel-tron…the ring…and the very chairs the fans are seated upon.
Drake: The IWC was on the verge of collapse under the Orlando regime…but I saved it…and now….here we are, in Sin City…putting on one of the biggest shows in wrestling history….A night already off to a hot start….but you know what…I think we can keep UPPING THE ANTE…I think we can keep topping ourselves….and in order to do to that…MY talent needs proper motivation….Which brings me to this.
A palm slaps the briefcase in Executioner’s hands before Drake insists the head of security raise it above his head…to make it more prominent. The big man raises it as high as his arms will stretch…but that still isn’t good enough for Drake, who now insists that Executioner stand on his toes in order to make the briefcase even more presentable. With a groan Executioner tries to reenact the feat of Rose Dewitt Bukator by standing on the tips of his big toes but failing miserable. After mouthing the words ‘pathetic,’ Drake goes back to making his announcement.
Drake: Contained within this briefcase is the coveted Evolution Championship…the REAL Evolution Title…Open it and show the people that this case is not filled with women’s underwear.
He tries to undo the latches but Executioner just can’t get the case open for some reason. A hand slowly slides down Drake’s face…patience lost.
Drake: Billy…help him before he hurts himself.
Mayne is eager to intervene…assisting in the popping of the latches. The moment the case opens a bright golden hue shines from within…just not into the face of a mesmerized John Travolta.
Drake: There it is ladies and gentlemen…a belt that has been broken…stolen…and used as a means of manipulation…But tonight such abuse ends…and the Championship will FINALLY have a brand new owner….One that I will personally cherry pick from our immense roster of talents.
The smug factor is just killing any joy the crowd could get out of this.
Drake: This is just one more thing you can thank me for ladies and gentlemen….and that the Board will be expressing unyielding gratitude for. But now you may be asking yourselves…who…WHO will Desmond Drake personally pick to be the first Evolution Champion? The answer…will be delivered by the end of the night.
The fans who were waiting on pins and needles for the announcement feel thoroughly let down that they’ll left stewing in further anticipation.
Drake: I’m not like Orlando…I don’t make brash and impulsive decisions…everyone should know by now that I’m a man who meticulously plans things out…And my plans for tonight go as follows. I’m going to be watching every match very closely…as a good owner SHOULD…and closely study each and every athlete to decide who impresses me the most…
The stubble on his jaw is stroked before he at last snaps his fingers with a broad grin sweeping across his face.
Drake: But you know what goes a long way in impressing me….sacrifice…personal sacrifice. And since we’re in VEGAS….
He waits to get a cheap pop…and keeps on waiting…and waiting…before at last carrying on.
Drake: I’m in a GAMBLING mood…and the rest of my roster better be too. Because I’m gonna ask each and every person competing here tonight to gamble something….gamble something based on the outcome of their match. And just like in gambling, the greater the risk, the bigger the payoff. So the bigger the stakes…the better the chances of impressing me and the increased odds of walking out of Upping the Ante as the NEW Evolution Champion…
Desmond smirks…and why….because he’s pleased with himself…entirely too pleased in fact.
Drake: So let’s find out what the ‘talent’ is willing to gamble in order to be put in contention for the Evolution Title…starting with….Amanda Blayze!
The intro to “Warriors of the World (United)” by Manowar at last drags the crowd out of the funk Desmond has put them into. They react rather favorably to the woman who made her debut at the recent edition of NewAge, where she managed to defeat a game Malachi Hunt…but now she’s faced with a different challenge…making a gamble that will impress Drake enough to be crowned the new Evolution Champion by night’s end. She steps out through the curtains and stands beside the very man who is in the process of looking her up and down…and quite clearly liking what he sees. A cut throat gesture is made by Drake to end Amanda’s music.
Drake: Mrs. Blayze….Let me be the first to cordially welcome you to the IWC….
A polite smile and nod from Blayze.
Drake: You’re a welcomed improvement over the current crop of ‘stars” around here, and perhaps you‘re capable of doing something THEY cannot…toting the company line.. So what are you willing to gamble gorgeous?
The briefcase is tapped by Drake, but considering the way his eyes have veered towards Amanda’s backside..there’s clearly something else he’d like to tap.
Drake: Let’s hear it.
The microphone is forked over to Amanda, who seems to be under some unanticipated pressure.
Amanda: Umnmm…well…wasn’t really expecting this…but I suppose….that I’m willing to gamble a…uhhhh…kiss.
For once Desmond and the fans are on the same page, quite enamored with the idea of Blayze puckering up.
Amanda: I guess if I lose tonight…I’ll kiss…YOU…Mr. Drake.
Nope…the fans and Drake are no longer reading from the same page….not even the same book….not even in the same library.
Drake: Well now…that’s not much of a gamble…considering there are undoubtedly many ladies who would enjoy the taste of Desmond’s lips…But we’ll go with it….Good luck…Mrs. Blayze.
Thankfully Amanda is allowed to do what she does best…wrestle…rather than feed the ego of Drake. Her music cues back in as she begins slapping outstretched hands and then leaps to the apron, over the ropes and rushes to the turnbuckles, ascending to the middle rope where she employs the traditional Hawaiian Shaka signal.
Susie: So Amanda will be gambling a kiss…If she loses…then she has to plant a big sloppy wet one on Desmond? That probably impresses him for all the wrong reasons.
Amanda drops down to the canvas and does some pre-match stretches…all the while keeping an attentive eye locked on the stage. “Not Afraid” plays through the speakers….meaning that Blayze won’t have to wait long to rest eyes on her opponent…that opponent being Racheal James…But Amanda gets an even bigger feast for her eyes….that being Racheall’s tag partner, Rich Anderson, who has accompanied Racheal to the stage.
Drake: And two more new editions to the roster…The Underdogs…allow me to cordially welcome you to the IWC roster….and good luck in your first match here on pay-per-view.
Rich doesn’t look very interested in Drake’s words…which suits Desmond just fine…considering his eyes don’t even acknowledge Anderson and are firmly settled on Racheal’s curve hugging wrestling attire.
Drake: Racheal….what are you willing to gamble?
Much like Amanda….Rachael appears stressed…unable to think up something on the fly….so she utters the first words that spring to mind.
Racheal: I guess I’ll gambl….
Drake: I’m sorry….you‘ll have to forgive my short stature…I can‘t get the microphone all the way up to your lips…try to meet me half way would you?
Racheal hunches over to speak into the microphone in Desmond’s grip…but he intentionally keeps lowering it and lowering it to make her stoop further and further, unintentionally revealing more of her cleavage to Desmond’s leering eyes.
Racheal: If I lose tonight then I’ll sacrifice my wages for the evening.
Drake: Good…good….but you realize this isn’t mere peanuts you’re gambling right? The IWC happens to provide quite a compensation bonus for pay-per-view events such as these.
Racheal: I know…
Drake: Sorry?
She bends down a little more much to Desmond’s delight.
Racheal: I said I…
Desmond: Well good look to you then.
James looks confused as she stands up straight and glances towards Rich, who mumbles the words ‘I’ll explain everything to you later.’ The two then head back down the ramp once their entrance lyrics once again pipe through the speakers.
Susie: So Amanda Blayze is gambling a kiss…and Racheal James is gambling her wages for the night. Quite interesting.
Both parties, who have put quite a bit on the line for tonight’s bout, are on the verge of locking up as referee Stuart Wright slides into the ring and calls for the bell. The match is officiously underway as the two lovely but dangerous ladies circle one another.
Susie: And here we go….both these ladies competing to show their stuff and possibly earn their own mega sparkly…the Evolution Championship. Thanks for helping me keep this all straight Magic 8 Ball.
James spits into her palms, rubs them together and then calls for the test of strength and Amanda is more than willing to reciprocate. She interlocks fingers with Racheal and the two jockey for power and position for only a moment before Amanda spins around and connects with a back kick to the ribs of her opponent. Racheal doubles over, grabbing at her ribs just as the air is knocked out of her lungs.
Blayze then catches her opponent’s wrist, swinging under it and applying the arm ringer. She then drops to her side and hooks the crease of Racheal’s elbow in the process, flipping her over into the arm drag. The Underdogs member collapses to her back, being treated like a dog at the moment as her opponent gets to her knee at her side and applies a basic arm lock from behind.
She then forces James to her back by the trapped arm before leaping into the air and delivering a stomp right to the crease of her elbow. A grimace consumes Racheal’s face as she sits up and then has her arm tucked behind her with Blayze utilizing her legs to hold it in place. She swings around the arm and traps it in a hammerlock position utilizing her legs so that her hands can be employed to rear back on Racheal’s jaw.
Susie: Ewww…she’s twisting Racheal up like a Stretch Armstrong Doll…wonder if she’ll tear at the seems and we’ll see what kind of stuffing is inside. I learned the hard-way that said stuffing inside the Stretch Armstrong Doll is NOT edible.
That grimace on James’ face is all the more pronounced as she tries to stand up only to have the stereo submissions broken by Amanda, who spins her opponent around by the jaw and then snap mares her back over to the canvas. Racheal falls to her rump as Blayze slips in behind her, grabs the arm and re-establishes the hammerlock.
She then transitions from hammerlock into an overhead top wrist lock…really twisting the arm in a multitude of angles, and bringing James closer to the brink of submission. But that doesn’t happen as at the behest of Rich…with his encouraging words filling her ears…she stands up tall and then rears back with one of her elbows, trying to drive into the Amanda’s cheek. She bends down just in time to avoid being hit with the elbow though and then reaches out, catching the arm she’s targeted throughout this match. It’s folded around behind James’ back in a hammerlock while Blayze is still bent forward in front of her, shoulder wedged against her opponent’s stomach. She charges Racheal backwards into the turnbuckle, ramming her with her arm still trapped behind her back, spine first into the turnbuckle.
James doubles over out of the corner clutching at her arm as Amanda takes her targeted limb and swings around it, beginning to apply another arm ringer. Racheal proves far more resilient than Amanda had anticipated, falling back unpredictability and pulling Amanda into a drop toe hold that sends her falling face first into the middle turnbuckle pad.
Amanda’s face cracks against he corner and her head bounces back, looking glossy eyed at the moment. With Rich slapping the apron and rallying behind her, Racheal finds the motivation to rush across the ring, ricochet from the far ropes and come back in at Amanda just as she turns around in a seated position against the turnbuckle. A face wash NAILS her right to the teeth, possibly bursting her lips before they can ever make contact with Desmond’s skin.
This thought isn’t wasted on Drake, who wears his own grimace at the thought of being forced to kiss Amanda’s bloated and mangled lips. He relays said concerns to Laymon and Mayne who continue to stand beside him and watch the action from the stage.
The big kick has Amanda shaken, her brains almost scattered across the mats by the blow. It proved so effective for James…why not go to the same well twice? She rushes across the ring, bounces off the far ropes for some added momentum and then lunges forward into yet another face wash…nailing Blayze to the bridge of her nose.
Palms engulf Amanda’s skull as she rolls towards the center of the ring. The distance she put between herself and her opponent provides only a brief reprieve. Racheal rushes across the ring and delivers another kick, this time to the chest of Blayze, causing her to pop up to her knees. She teeters back and forth as James ricochets off the ropes in front of her, twirls around and delivers a big roundhouse kick to the side of her skull.
Susie: Wowzies….She’s got legs…and she knows how to use them….Who sang that? I bet it was Liberace.
The kick to the temple puts Amanda down and James drops into the cover, hooking the creases of both knees and hoisting them into the air to put more leverage on the pin.
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Blayze is able to get her shoulder up…still too fresh to go down so early. To her feet James scrambles before sitting Amanda up on the canvas, delivering a big kick right between her shoulder blades that has her adversary cringing…and then rushes into the ropes behind her.
She ricochets off then leaps forward into the front dropkick to the same space between the shoulder blades that she inflicted so much damage on with her previous strike. She then rolls back onto her feet after delivering the kick that has put Blayze on her stomach, reaching for her upper back but unable to alleviate the pain emanating from it.
James then rushes in and leaps high, before ultimately delivering a double stomp directly to…you guessed it…right between the shoulder blades. The mangled spine of Amanda is really plaguing her as she gets up and tries to straighten her back….and Racheal isn’t about to make it any easier on her. She steps in behind Blayze…hooks an arm around her waist and then heaves her up from the canvas into a Canadian back breaker across her raised knee.
Blayze bounces off the knee then drops to the canvas before ultimately rolling towards the turnbuckle. She ends up seated against the corner, grabbing at her kidneys…but again…the added pressure of her hand does nothing to relieve the strain that’s been placed on her back.
Racheal points to a clapping and supportive Rich at ringside before stomping her foot and rushing across the ring for ANOTHER face wash…But this time Amanda catches the boot before it can connect with her lovely features…much to the relief of Drake and his Shop.
That grimace on Racheal’s face has been replaced with concern as she hops on one foot…backing to the center of the ring with her other leg caught in the clutches of Blayze. Amanda then pushes the leg away from her, sending James into a full spin…but Racheal uses the momentum of her swinging body to go into a discus elbow. But Blayze catches the inbound arm and hooks the crease of her elbow in the process, then leaps into the air, swinging her legs over the back of James and hooking them around her far shoulder.
Amanda goes for a crucifix pin but her opponent surprises her yet again by dropping forward into a Rolling Fireman’s Carry Slam…again putting quite a bit of pressure on the back. Amanda is down but James is back on her feet, rushing into the ropes, ricocheting off then leaping into a standing senton bomb across the back of the laid out Blayze.
Susie: Poor Amanda…she can’t get up at all…but at the very least she’ll be on level with Desmond to make that kiss and perhaps win her that Evolution Championship. So hey, it’s a blessing in disguise.
To her feet races James, who then steps to Amanda’s side and leaps into the air, coming down knee first into the back of her skull. Blayze grabs at her cranium and rolls across the canvas, ending up near the ropes, which she employs to slowly pull herself to her knees. She ends up leaning against the middle rope just as Racheal charges in behind her and leaps hip first into her upper back…right between the shoulder blades once again.
She then reaches down, taking the jaw of Blayze, leading her up to her feet and then grabbing her shoulders before lunging into the air. She wedges both knees between the blades of Amanda’s spine and drops down into a back stabber only to have Amanda keep hold of the top rope, preventing the move from connecting.
This causes James to slam into the canvas across the back of her head and shoulders. She then sits up, that grimace coming back to her face as Amanda turns around and rushes out of the ropes, delivering a devastating…high impact knee strike.
The strike has not only potentially sent teeth flying from James’ mouth but has caused her to collapse to her back just as Amanda swoops in and drops into the cover.
1
2
James gets a shoulder up that results in much fanfare from Anderson…who then takes a moment to swipe sweat from his brow.
Susie: Twwwwoooo! Te-he-he…I’m going all Canadian.
A smile stretches over Desmond’s face as he watches the action unfold within the ring…quite pleased…..perhaps even IMPRESSED by the action in the ring thus far. Amanda then takes the arm of James and uses it to drag her up to her feet before ultimately whipping her across the ring into the turnbuckle. James hits the corner while Amanda doubles over, putting the back of her hand against her kidneys, taking a crucial moment to try and recover. She then rushes across the ring into the waiting boots of James…who gets them up just in time…Only they DON’T connect with jaw…because Blayze catches them in the nick of time. She then swings the feet away from her face and causes then to fly through the ropes, resulting in Racheal being seated on the middle rope.
Blayze grabs her hair and prepares to inflict further damage before James drops back, launching her legs over the top rope and catching Amanda to the skull with her shins. Once again Racheal has her opponent staggered but that’s NOT good enough….not for James…hence why she slides through the ropes to the apron and grabs the top cable. She springs up onto it and then takes flight before ultimately crashing into Amanda with a cross body, putting her down back first hard into the canvas. James then reaches out and hooks Blayze’s leg…resulting in Desmond wetting his lips with his chapstick.
1
2
Again Blayze evades defeat.
Susie: TWWWOOO…I love our wonderfully kooky northern neighbors…Aye? Mwahahahaha.
The back of Blayze may be in the type of pain that even a masochist could not endure, but she still gets her shoulder up and still tries to fight her way up. She doesn’t get very far before James takes her under the jaw and around the back of the head, dragging her forward into a front chancery. She is about to deliver the suplex when Amanda surprisingly swings out of the headlock and catches James by the wrist in the process. She then yanks James forward into a short arm forearm smash only to have Racheal duck and then take off into the cables.
She leaps into the air, right over the top rope, and lands on the apron before springing up onto it. James flies across the ring into another cross body when Amanda turns and lunges into the air, delivering a front dropkick right to the inbound ribs of her opponent.
Susie: MY PET MONSTER!!
The crowd is just as enthused by that devastating dropkick from Blayze…that leaves James curled into a fetal position…wrapped around her mangled mid-section….ribs imploded by that last blow. In spite of this she tries to stand up just as Blaze moves in…nailing a big knife edge chop across the chest of her opponent. James is staggered but grounds herself and then delivers a forearm in rebuttal.
Amanda staggers back then steps forward only to be hit with an open hand palm strike across the sternum…almost chopping Blayze down. She stumbles back just as Racheal steps in and delivers yet another open hand palm strike…but this one is caught right before it can connect with the sternum. Blayze then pulls Racheal forward, catches her around the shoulder and drops down into the divorce court arm breaker
James pops up to her feet, grabbing at her shoulder and turning away from her rising opponent. Blayze spins around into the Dragon Tail Kick but once again the Underdogs rep shows her speed by ducking and racing into the ropes.
She bounces off and then comes back in at Amanda, who closes the distance between them by leaping into a leg lariat. James is taken down and then sent scrambling across the ring, eventually getting to her feet just in time to get a boot to the gut and be placed in a double underhook. Blayze shows her remarkable strength by delivering a bridging butterfly suplex.
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2
Rachael kicks out and in the process sits up with Blayze swooping in behind her. She then delivers a big kick right between her shoulder blades…then does it again…and again…and again….purposely targeting the area of James’ body that was so maliciously brutalized by Racheal throughout this match.
Another kick, and another, and another lands between the shoulder blades before Amanda races into the ropes in front of her seated and prone opponent, swinging around into a sure to be decapitating kick only to have her ankle caught in the clutches of James. Racheal then drops back, and leg drags Amanda down to the canvas across her chest and stomach, James standing up behind her and then stepping over the back. She lifts BOTH legs into the air and then sits almost right on top of the upper back of her opponent…applying the lion tamer to screeches from the crowd.
Susie: That was an awesome-sauce counter…right, Magic 8 Ball?….Reply hazy try again….FINE! Will Amanda hang in there and NOT submit?…Reply hazy try again….Well at least you’ve got a broader vocabulary than Dollar.
Every watches intently as James drags herself elbow upon elbow towards the ropes, her spine being absolutely mangled via the lion tamer from James, who is putting her ALL into this move. But in spite of all that, the bottom rope is grabbed by Amanda…preventing defeat.
Susie: And she made it…no thanks to you, Magic 8 Ball.
Wright insists that the hold be broken and that’s exactly what happens…James releases her opponent, steps to the center of the ring then prepares a different strategy. She spins around, setting sights on the back of an ailing Blayze. She rushes up behind Amanda and leaps into the air, catching her by the shoulders and dragging her down into yet another back stabber…But to the shock of everyone…no one more surprised than James…Blayze back flips out of position for the back stabber and right over top of her opponent, landing on her feet.
James rolls to her knees in a huff only to be cracked in the temple with the buzz saw kick. She collapses to her back and looks all shaken up….only rolling to her feet based on sheer instinct. That’s when Amanda rushes in, leaps high and catches her around the neck, dropping back into the DDT then rolling over into the guillotine choke.
Susie: She’s strangling the life right outta Racheal….Hang in there gorgeous…hang in there.
James tries to do just that…TRIES to persevere…tries to hang tough…but after that nasty skull first implosion with the ring via the DDT and the numerous high impact moves she’s suffered in this match…hanging tough doesn’t seem to be a possibility, hence why her hand slaps the back of Amanda several times, tapping out.
Susie: Oh yeah…the Hawaiian Hottie does it…she made Racheal submit…meaning no kiss…but plenty of lost commission.
From the ring rolls an exhausted Amanda, who just went in there and just went all out to gain a big momentum capturing victory. She moseys up the ramp amidst many cheers from the crowd…who she won over via her performance here tonight…Another individual who she won over in a big way…is the miniature man waiting on the stage. He puts his hands together then sneers at his cohorts when he notices their not following suit…prompting all three men…yes….Executioner included…to begin clapping…Mayne and Laymon trying to top one another in terms of just how loud they can do said clapping.
Drake: Congratulations Dear…I’m thoroughly impressed…
Amanda: I’m thrilled.
Her words are soaked with sarcasm.
Drake: You should be…I’m not easily impressed…..BUUUT….you know…I think you raised the hopes of all these fans…and the last thing we want to risk is sending them home unhappy. Sooo…how about we get that kiss.
The sarcasm is replaced by a picture of repulsion from Amanda…really not wanting her lips to make contact with Desmond’s face.
Drake: Come on, Doll-Face…don’t hype these fans only to leave them ultimately unsatisfied. Pucker up those lovely lips….
In despair Amanda finally gives in…throwing in the towel and resolving herself to the inevitable. Therefore she does as ordered…not wanting to lose favor with the President…especially so early on in her IWC career. She leans down ever so slowly…lips protruding as they inch towards the face of a smiling Drake. She closes her eyes so as not to have to see the face of the man she’s being FORCED to plant one on….but they open when she hears laughter from Desmond.
Drake: You know what…forget it.
Amanda breaths a sigh of relief as Desmond steps back and motions for her to stand up straight and collect herself.
Drake: I’m sorry to disappoint you, Amanda…but these lips….
Pointing to his pouting mouth.
Drake:…They’re spoken for….
The crowd gets increasingly queasy realizing that Drake is eluding to Rose Savior in truly disgusting and delusional fashion.
Drake:…BUT….if you really have your heart set on giving these fans want they want to see…how about you put those lips to good use and start sucking face with Billy Mayne here.
Amanda gives Desmond that….’are you serious’….stare….Especially once her eyes have crossed Mayne, who looks entirely too giddy…already saturating his tongue with breath spray and then licking his lips to make sure their not too crusty.
Drake: Go on…show me how much your willing to sacrifice…show me you rwilling to GIVE in order to be named the Evolution Champion tonight.
The thought of kissing Mayne would make any woman sick…but the fact that Amanda actually HAS to go through with it in reality….has Blayze feeling like she has swine flue. She nevertheless follows through at the behest of Drake, her skin positively squirming as she approaches Billy’s extended lips. She pulls back as far as her head will go as Mayne closes his eyes and descends upon her with his puckered mouth. Just as it seems that Billy is going to kiss a girl for the first time in his entire life…without paying for it first….Blayze suddenly ducks and causes Mayne’s lips to travel into the unsuspecting Laymon’s. Jacob was in the midst of chuckling at the expense of Blayze until he stops laughing and immediately wants to vomit when Billy’s lips connect with his own.
Susie: Madonna and Brittany Spears…eat your hearts out!
The building is screeching and turning their heads away from the sight of Mayne and Laymon…they could watch a lot….gratuitous amounts of blood shed…an endless parade of beat downs….woman vomiting maggots…but what they cannot watch…what they cannot endure….is the visual of Jacob and Billy going full lip to lip. Finally the shock wears off and rage sets in. Jacob shoves back Billy and then instantly begins to spit to the stage while brushing the back of his mouth with his sleeve. Once Billy realizes what happened…he suddenly becomes very analytical of the twinge in his trousers.
Laymon: Seriously? Fucking seriously? Did you have to use your God damned tongue?
Mayne is horrified, grabbing his hair and going white as a sheet. The only man not reacting with disdain or distress is Desmond, who merely smirks at the plight of his corporate stooges. He doesn’t even instruct Executioner to give chase to Amanda as she darts to the backstage area before she can once again become the focus of Drake’s insidious plots.
Ba’al: Was man sich eingebrockt hat, mass man auch ausloffeln.
Yes…Ba’al has indeed made his bed…and is coming to terms with the fact that he must lay in it….He continues along through the corridor, hands interlocked behind his back as he proceeds towards the location of Mr. Gaunt.
Ba’al: And how am I supposed to find you, Mr. Gaunt? Follow an assortment of linearly placed bread-crumbs?
Before he can answer his own question…a blip appears on his radar….Ba’al spotting two figures down the corridor…two unmistakable personalities. In spite of the bushy mustaches pasted to their faces…the red and green caps placed on top of their heads, and the plungers in their palms….one can clearly tell that the duo standing before Ba’al are Al and Mr. Hush….Who even while in disguise still wears his mask and bowler hat….crudely hidden beneath the mustache and red hat.
Al: PLEASE PARDON ARE INPERITENCE KIND SCALLYWAG…
Oddly enough Ba’al opts to play Mr. Gaunt’s game…realizing it’s the only way he’ll be able to track him down this evening.
Ba’al: Why think nothing of it gentlemen.
Al: HOWEVER, WE FIND OURSELVES QUITE LABORED AFTER THE EXHAUSTED EFFORTS OF PURGING SOME RATHER PERSITENT TOILETS BELONGING TO ROSE SAVIOR. FOR WE ARE PLUMBERS, YES, HENCE THE MUSTACHIOED FACES AND THE SPIFFY EQUIPEMENT BELTS.
He gestures to his belt…which seems to be quite sparse on tools not of the rubber variety.
Al: YES, THE LOWLY EXISTENCES OF TWO BROOKYLN PLUMBERS CAN GROW RATHER TIRESOME…EVEN WHEN WE MEET SO MANY ODD AND DAFT FELLOWS…LIKE THIS MR. GAUNT WE CROSSED PATHS WITH MOMENTS AGO.
Ba’al cross his arms and impatiently taps his blade ring against his own throat.
Ba’al: And where pray tell did you have this fortuitous encounter with Mr. Gaunt?
Al: RIGHT OUTSIDE THE LOU WE WORKED SO DELIGENTLY TO DISLODGE OF THE DIGESTED REMNANTS OF ROSE SAVIOR’S APPARENTLY QUITE ONIONY PIZZA.
A hand is swiped before Al’s nose to knock away from the phantom odor…but in the process he almost knocks away his own mustache.
Ba’al: Aaaahhhh…so I presume I’m suppose to go to said bathroom if I favor discourse with Mr. Gaunt?
He cannot help but to turn attention to Mr. Hush, who is in the process of taking measurements with his measuring tape….measurements of Ba’al’s head and the length of his biceps. Finally Al swats away the tape measurer and Mr. Hush’s hands, trying to keep the two in character.
Al: WHY WOULD YOU MAKE SUCH INQUIRES OF TWO TURD WRANGLERS? WE KNOW NOT THE SCHEDULE THAT MR. GAUNT KEEPS.
Ba’al: Gratitude gentlemen, for your aid…But I would suggest neither of you be here upon my return.
He walks away as Mr. Hush is employing his tape measurer in order to judge the circumference of his own head…comparing it to the results he took from Ba’al.
Al: WHAT WAS THAT!?!
His mustache and cap are torn away as Al breaks character to verbally berate his Black Crusade brethren.
Al: DO YOU KNOW NOTHING OF THEATRICALITY? IF IT WEREN’T FOR MY WONDERFUL ACTING TALENTS HE MIGHT HAVE MADE US.
Now Mr. Hush is measuring the head of Al…
It’s party time…celebrate…..yeah-yeah-yeah….the elated TCWC strut through the parking garage towards the limo that Adam Chase is already standing outside of…He pops the cork on a champagne bottle…getting a preemptive start to the mother of all celebrations…Some of the fine bubbly pours over as Adam juggles glasses under his armpit…He begins to pour the liquid into these glasses and dish them out to both Hugo and Bash….his clients enjoying a taste of the sweet…sweet….nectar.
Chase: That’s right my boys…drink it up….celebrate….You’ve got the night off and there’s no media events I’ve scheduled for tomorrow…so you can sleep in to your heart’s content.
Bash chugs down his champagne while Hugo sips at his glass, only to have it stolen right out of his palm by his own tag team partner.
Bash: Don’t stand there nursing it like an eighteen year old chick…Drink like a REAL MAN.
A visual demonstration…Kincaid chugging down the champagne then grabbing the bottle out of Chase’s hands. He begins to guzzle it straight down much to a wide eyed reaction from Hugo and a smile from Adam…enjoying the sight of his clients hamming it up and truly enjoying this moment.
Chase: Hahahaha…don’t worry Boys…there’s plenty more in the limo…So what do you say we hop on in and hit the town….
Hugo: Sounds good…
Bash: You damn straight it does…This is VEGAS….YAH!
He keeps chugging down the champagne and actually begins to throw some into the air, splashing it indiscriminately on the heads of both Chase and Magnusson. The Tag Team Champions are about to enter the limo under the smiling eyes of Adam when the sunroof to their vehicle slowly opens and a figure emerges from within. A figure who causes both men to stop cold in their tracks….as cold as the liquid that Bash sloshes around. They step back with suds dripping from their faces…shocked faces…shocked at the sight of Cassidy Haze.
Cassidy: Oh don’t let me spoil your fun, Hon. I enjoy a good celebration.
Adam is absolutely about to stroke out.
Chase: How the hell did you get in there? HOW!?!
Cassidy: OH…I have my ways…I have my ways.
She lifts a crowbar into the air and uses it to dig the gunk from beneath her nails….No one having noticed up until that point that the back window of the limo is shattered, glass left all over the trunk.
Cassidy: But before you honey buns go off celebrating….you might want to go to that ring and defend your tag team titles….Considering that Damion and I are still more than capable of challenging you for the belts.
Chase: That is crap…CRAP! I promised them the night off…and that’s exactly what my clients are getting….Now step out of my limo before I have Bash and Hugo throw you out.
Cassidy: Oh please let those two strapping young lads get in the limo with me…PLEASE….I think the three of us could have a very good time…
Chase: Take care of this…the sooner she’s out of the way the sooner we can paint this town red.
Kincaid grabs the back door and swings it open before champagne comes shooting from the neck of a bottle, spraying Bash AND Hugo right in their eyes.
Haze: Oh wait…did I say the THREE of us? I meant FOUR!
The blinded Tag Team Champions hear Cassidy…but don’t see the man she’s eluding to…that man being Damion Sommers. He emerges from the vehicle with champagne bottle in hand and that same scarred grin evident on his face.
Damion: Let’s get this party started! Anyone bring some glow sticks?
The moment the champions collect themselves and begin to reengage their enemies, Sommers shatters the champagne bottle against the edge of the door and now holds the broken, jagged handle, waving it towards whomever gets close.
Chase: No…no…
Adam steps between the psychotic Sommers and the Tag Team Champions….backing them away from the limo and the lunatic seated within it.
Chase: I’ll deal with this….You hear me….I’ve got this under control.
Hugo and Bash are physically shoved by Adam, leading them away from harm. As Sommers and Haze watch the pair being led off, Damion breaks the awkward silence.
Damion: Awww….I thought we were all going out….I even have my dance shoes on.
Haze: Thank God we didn’t take that E.
Damion: Oh? We were supposed to wait to take it?
Whitman: She has to be in this general vicinity…she must…
With a bandage haphazardly attached to his forehead, Whitman circles the spot where he left Lois Prince….searching for any clues that would help him to deduct her location. The weight bearing down on his shoulder from the X-Class Championship doesn’t make his search any easier…coupled with the fact that every pound of his flesh feels more like a metric ton. The physical toll of that High Stakes tag match has Whitman was a high price to pay…but Clarence is looking past his own injuries to look for the abducted Prince.
Whitman: Lois…oh Lois….it’s safe to come out now…the Monster has went fleeing from your mighty X-Class Champion.
Simon: PERCY!
All that false bravado evaporates the instant Whitman audibly yelps and turns, fists raised with no intent to put them to good use…Not that he could anyway, considering the current state of his mangled anatomy…Luckily, an equally as injury ridden, Simon Cagero has no interest in exchanging fisticuffs with the X-Class Champion.
Whitman: Oh ummmm…uhhh…Mr. Cagero yes? I don’t believe we’ve had the honor….
Simon: Yeah…yeah…yeah…come to my room and suck my dick later….right now…we’ve got some other business to….
Whitman: I’m…I’m sorry…but did you just request that I perform felattio on you?
Simon is anything but in the mood to repeat himself…far too aggravated by his loss…and the pain shooting out from beneath the bag of ice held to the back of his neck.
Simon: Don’t read too much into it….that’s pretty much how we here in the states say hello.
Whitman: Ah…splendid then….I was unaware of that particular colloquialism.
Simon: Well leave it up to me to constantly expand your vocabulary then… but that can wait till later….right now….I’m here to offer you my help……
Whitman: Your help?
Simon: Why is everyone so insistent upon repeating themselves around here….Yes…..believe it or not, I do have a conscious….And I saw how that smoking hot girlfriend of yours was just abducted by that ass clown….Ba’al…something I will not stand for. So as not to feel like I totally wasted my time coming here tonight…how about I lend you a helping hand in finding your girly girl?
Whitman: Am I to presume that this offer for aid comes with certain strings attached?
Simon: One hand washes the other around here, Partner…So yeah…you might expect me to come calling for help later on…but let’s focus on now…right now….and finding your fuck buddy.
Whitman: We’ve actually yet to engage in the physical act of copulation.
Simon: You mean fucking right?
Whitman: If you wish to reduce it to such vulgar….
Simon: Yes…yes I do…now follow me.
Whitman: I’m dreadfully sorry….but can we linger for a moment?
The two were on the verge of beginning their hunt for the abducted Lois but the man who should be the most interested in discerning her whereabouts, Whitman, is the one slowing them down.
Simon: What now?
Whitman: I just noticed I seem to have sprung a leak.
Blood is extrapolated from the forehead of Clarence…a result of that nasty collision from the light-tube wrapped forearm of Montgomery.
Whitman: So if you would kindly give me a moment to feint….it would be quite appreciated.
Simon: What the fuck are you going on ab….?
He can’t even get the sentence out before he watches Whitman remove a silk handkerchief from his pocket, toss it to the floor and then swoon before falling to the ground, making sure his face falls onto the expensive snot rag.
Simon: Are you fucking serious? I swear to God…I don’t have time for this shit.
Cagero crosses his arms and acts as a sentinel, impatiently watching over Whitman who has went into a self induced coma at the sight of his own blood.
Simon: This better not take very long.
Cameras return to the interior of the arena where Desmond Drake and his entourage remain firmly rooted to the stage, showing a surprising amount of leg strength given the fact that they’ve yet to sit since their arrival….And both Billy and Jacob could really use a sit down at the moment considering how sick they feel after their unintentional suck face.
Drake: And the IWC just keeps on delivering the goods…under the Drake administration….Wow….were you all not impressed by the debuts of both Racheal James and Amanda Blayze?
The crowd applauds in Pavlov fashion.
Drake: They really showed us something tonight….they put it all on the line in order to impress me…and ultimately win the coveted Evolution Championship.
Once more Executioner raises the briefcase aloft.
Drake: And they’ll find out later tonight if they’ve impressed me ENOUGH to be crowned the very first Evolution Champion. Racheal James gambled and was unsuccessful in her bid to defeat the formidable Blayze…so now she will be without pay for all her endeavors this evening. But who knows…maybe she won’t leave here entirely empty handed…maybe she’s made just enough of an impression on me to make my decision an easy one regarding this belt…Time will tell….The evening is still young…and there’s still a lot of talent left to evaluate…a lot of talent left to sway my decision in their favor by way of their actions in the ring and what their willing to gamble should they lose this evening. Soooo…let’s keep this show rolling shall we?
Attention deviates to the curtains just when horns begin to blare through the PA system and the arena lighting takes on a green hue. Once the lyrics of “Wild Days A” streams through the speakers…Malachi Hunt steps through the curtains. Kentucky Death steps right to the stage and stands under the spotlight…in the pressure cooker…roasting amongst the reactions from the fans and the penetrating gaze of Desmond Drake.
Drake: Welcome to the A Show…no…no…the A plus show….congratulations on graduating from the arbitrary New Age development system….
Hunt: Like ‘Kentucky Death’ ever should have been in it to begin with…have you not bore witness to my German suplex? I also have a mean DDT….far meaner than any employed by these mongrels under your employ.
Drake: Yes…yes….we get it…your quite the accomplished wrestler.
Hunt: Accomplished? BOY…my turds can put on better caliber matches than half your roster….
Drake: That’s a big statement…
Hunt: One I’ll back up against that lilli-livered big bosomed gal you fed me here tonight.
Drake: Fair enough…..But what are you willing to gamble this evening?
Hunt doesn’t even think about it…having done far too much contemplating pre-match…much more contemplating than any man of his caliber should have to.
Hunt: Here….
A set of keys are fished out of his singlet.
Hunt: I’ll gamble ownership of my baby…the four wheeler I tear through the countryside of the blue grass state with….my pride and joy.
He dangles the keys above Desmond’s head…hoping it will have some form of hypnotic effect upon him.
Drake: Quite the lofty gamble…
Hunt: Pfft….not really…considering I’m not about to lose this match tonight…And I’ll be riding my four wheeler right out of this building.
The mesmerizing keys are thrown into the air and caught in the large palm of Hunt. After making his statement he intends to make a physical one…embarking towards the ring where he’s about to compete against Ashley Marie Chase….and it doesn’t take her too long to make her own entrance….Once Hunt has reached the ring a countdown overtakes the screen, cycling down from ten to one….At the conclusion of this countdown the lyrics of “I Stand Alone” stream through the speakers and Ashley waits no longer to leap through the curtains. Desmond is having an absolute field day with all these scantily clad beauties wrestling tonight. Drool is wiped from the corner of his mouth when he gets an eyeful of Ashley, who is being showered in golden pyrotechnics.
Susie: Okay…first Porno Lad gets sparklers…and now Ashley gets pyro too…even though she’s brand spanking new? I’ve been here since day one and I’ve yet to get so much as a candle lit in my honor.
Ashley spins around and then stops directly beside Drake, giving him the type of look that could stop a man’s heart.
Drake: Well now…aren’t you a looker….
His attempts to butter up Ashley are not well received…Drake apparently forgetting her last name.
Drake: Like Hunt…I want to welcome you both….
Ashley: You got some nerve.
The statement…oh so bold in nature…has Drake doing a double take.
Drake: Pardon?
Ashley: Don’t waste your breath, Willow….I’m not about to even condescend to be cordial with you….After what you went and put my sister thr….
Drake: SPLENDID…I’m glad to have you….
Ashley: I’m not finished yet…
The two struggle over the microphone before Executioner steps in at Desmond’s behest and forms a protective wall between the President and the rightfully angered Chase. Ashley tries to get around Executioner…but every step she takes is mirrored by the masked man…continuously forming a barrier.
Drake: No dear…you are finished…and if you’re not careful I’ll see that you’re career is finished too.
Ashley…much like her old sister, Taylor…doesn’t respond to threats.
Drake: I’m not like Orlando…I don’t tolerate disobedience…least not of all from a woman….
Ashley goes red.
Drake: And since your not willing to play ball….and make your gamble…I’ll decide what your putting on the line tonight. Ya’see…sex…it sells…it sells quite well, so…if you lose your match….right there in the middle of the ring…you will strip….strip to the delight of absolutely everyone in this building and our paying customers at home.
Oh how tempting it is for Ashley to TRY and get through Executioner.
Drake: And who knows..maybe before the night’s over with…I’ll even have you on your knees barking like a dog….Now get in that ring and do your job or your clothes won’t be the only thing your striped of tonight.
It takes everything…every bit of self restraint to keep herself in check…and to embark towards the ring….Ashley heads down the ramp, turning her back on Desmond but keeping an eye over her shoulder…an eye rested upon Desmond.
Susie: So wait…Ashley’s gonna get naked if she loses? Not a big shock…I’m solicited at least once a day to take my clothes off.
Desmond watches with a grin as Ashley scales the steps about to enter the ring and face down the braggart with a lot hanging in the balance.
The bell rings to start the match, Drake, Billy, Laymon and the Executioner watching with anticipation from the ramp way
Susie: Here we go then folks…my first solo match…can I do this?
She shakes the magic 8 ball which comes back with a ‘No’
Susie: Great…so, remember if Ashley loses she has to strip, but if it’s Malachi Hunt…then he loses his four wheeler.
Ashley and Hunt circle each other for a few moments before Ashley strikes Malachi with a hard right, and then another. Malachi smiles, almost as if he likes the punishment, and then unloads with a shot of his own, grabbing her wrist and then whipping her into the corner. He runs in, looking to drive his knee into her stomach but she moves out the way, Hunt managing to stop before he crashes into the turnbuckle. Chase spins him around and kicks him in the gut, looking to hit a Suplex but Hunt powers out, pushing Chase away. He then goes for a Lariat which Chase ducks under, rebounding off the ropes and looking for a Cross Body. Malachi however scouts it, and catches her in midair, before using her momentum to plant her with a Power Slam. He then goes to drop an elbow, but Chase moves out the way, Hunt hitting nothing but canvas. Both of them nip to their feet, Chase hooking Malachi by the head and running across the mat looking for a Bulldog. Malachi slips out the way however and applies the brakes, but turns around, straight into a thrust kick from Chase to the chest. Malachi reels back into the ropes, and rebounds off them, Ashley catching him with a Spear, driving the wind from Hunt’s body. Chase then drops to one knee and hooks Malachi into an arm bar, torqueing the limb as much as she can
Susie: Back and forth exchanges here, Ashley taking this to the mat early…will I ever find my true love?
She shakes the 8 ball
“Not a chance”
Susie grunts, and the action turns back to the ring, Ashley getting Hunt to his feet with the arm still being twisted unnaturally. Hunt however reverses the move, forcing Chase’s arm up her back and pushing her into the ropes. As she rebounded she slides between Hunt’s legs and then nips up, only to be taken straight by down by a straight arm Lariat from Malachi. Hunt doesn’t waste any time helping Chase to her feet and whipping her across the ring. She bounces off the ropes, Malachi lifting her up and across his chest. He then runs across the ring, driving Chase into the mat hard with a Running Power Slam which brings boos from the Manhattan Center.
Susie: And Malachi now with the offensive…will Malachi win this match?
“I don’t know”
Susie: I get just about as much sense from this as I do Dollar…I gotta admit though, I do miss him
Malachi taunts the crowd a little, as Ashley tries to get to her feet using the ropes. Malachi pulls her towards him and hits a Belly to Belly Suplex. He then picks her up again and hooks her around the waist, lifting her up into the air into a Military Press, before moving that into another power slam
Susie: Hunt using all his strength her, and this match could be over early.
Malachi doesn’t go for a pin however, and he helps her up again, pushing her back into the corner before mounting the turnbuckle. He stands across her and rains down right after right, until eventually Chase drops to the floor. Hunt nips off the turnbuckle and takes a couple of steps back, running in and driving his knee into the side of Ashley’s face, her body slumping to the floor
Susie: Ouch…that is all I have to say on that, especially as there is not witty retort…right?
She shakes the 8 Ball
“Maybe next time”
Back in the ring Malachi once again postures to the crowd
Malachi: What did you expect? I’m just too damn good
He turns back to Ashley and drags her up by her hair. With a massive clump of hair in his hands he bails her across the ring, bringing once again boos and jeers from the capacity crowd in attendance. Up on the ramp way Drake has an evil sneer on his face, probably anticipating Ashley having to strip. He taps Laymon, Jacob forcing a smile but not really enjoying what he was seeing.
Susie: Hunt living up to his bad boy reputation here…and loving every minute of this crowd reaction towards him.
He climbs up on the turnbuckle and flips off the crowd, New York going absolutely bonkers as he does. He then turns around, as Ashley gets onto her hands and knees. He leaps from the second rope and drops his elbow into the spine of Chase.
Susie: Ashley is in real trouble here, and could be regretting her decision to come to the IWC
Hunt spins her over and into a pin
1…
Chase slides out rather than kicks out, Hunt immediately picking her up and almost throwing her into the turnbuckle. He then lifts her up and onto the top, sitting her there and once again scowling out at the crowd
Susie: Bad intentions from Malachi…
He steps up onto the second strand, looking to hit the Suplex from there, but Chase manages to push him away, Malachi landing on his feet. Chase however dives from the turnbuckle, her forearm smashing into Hunt’s face and almost knocking him over. Chase gets to her knees, and delivers a European Upper Cut which again reels Malachi. She then hits a Standing Drop Kick which sends Malachi through the ropes and to the outside to a thunderous ovation. Chase drops to the floor on one knee, taking the time to recover from the punishment she has had to take thus far, her breathing heavy. On the outside Malachi shakes away the cobwebs, obviously surprised that Chase had anything left.
Susie: Where you surprised by that comeback?
She shakes the Magic 8 ball
“NO”
Susie: Know it all!!!
Malachi steps up onto the apron, Chase bouncing off the ropes and diving through the ropes, taking them both to the outside. Chase is back on her feet first and delivers a drop kick once again, sending him back and almost over the barricades. She delivers a hard right, and then another, and then a third, Malachi visibly stunned by the onslaught. She then Irish whips him, his face crashing into the steel ring post and sending him to the arena floor. She then puts the boot in, taking advantage of his prone position, before sliding back into the ring to break the referees count
Susie: Ashley putting the boot in, quite literally, and ensuring that Malachi Hunt stays on the defensive. I have to admit, I didn’t think Ashley Marie would still be in this match at this point, but she is, and she is doing everything she can to ensure she doesn’t have to take her clothes off for Desmond Drake the pervy dwarf…oh no; will I lose my job over that comment?
Shaking the ball, it comes back with a ‘Yes’
Susie: Shit
Ashley leans over the ropes, and grabs Malachi trying to drag him up onto the apron. That turns out to be a massive mistake however as Hunt drops off the apron, Ashley hanging herself on the top strand and being flung backwards into the center of the ring. As Malachi slides under the ropes, Chase gets back to her feet, holding her throat. Malachi runs across the ring and before Chase can react he hits her with the Crooked Arm Lariat, almost taking her head from her shoulders.
Susie: Kentucky Lariat from Malachi…and Chase nearly lost her pretty little head. At least she’d still have her body…wouldn’t be that much use to Drake though. A stripping headless female is not attractive…I know. Malachi must reeealllly love his four wheeler. And here’s a pin…
1…
2…
Kick out by Chase, Malachi looking at the referee with shock. The fans also get on his back, trying to rally Ashley who is crawling towards the corner. Malachi grabs the back of her hair and drags her to her feet, Ashley retaliating with a kick to the gut, and then hooking Hunts arms, drilling him with The Name Dropper, her version of the Pedigree. Malachi head is planted into the canvas, but Ashley cannot go for the pin, the move done instinctively. The referee holds up his arms and begins the ten count
1…
Susie: Referee counting ten, what happens if they both get counted out…Desmond?
He obviously cannot hear her, and the referee is now on four
5…
6…
Malachi starts to move, Chase the same
7…
Malachi flips onto his back and sits up, as Chase crawls towards the ropes
8…
9…
Simultaneously Chase pulls herself upright, and Hunt gets to his knees breaking the count. Chase runs towards Malachi and he nips up, hooking her around the waist looking to drop her on the strands again. He isn’t close enough however and she falls on top of him, pounding his face with hard rights, Malachi doing his best to cover up
Susie: What a match this has been thus far, both of these competitors showing they have a future…but Ashley may have to show something else if she doesn’t get this match won. Will we be seeing Ashley’s boobies tonight?
“Reply hazy try again”
Ashley gets to her feet, pumping up the crowd who are really getting behind her now. She lifts Malachi to his with some effort and goes for an Irish Whip which Hunt reverses, sending Ashley into the ropes instead. When she rebounds, he goes to lift her up, but Ashley lifts her knee, which connects underneath his chin. Ashley hooks his head and runs towards the turnbuckle, running up to the second rope and then turning, hitting a Bulldog. She then spins him over, hooking the leg
1…
2…
Malachi kicks out with authority, Ashley rolling down his body and quickly locking in the Ankle.
Susie: Ashley not known for her submission moves, but Malachi is hooked in, right in the center of the ring, and she is looking to really pressurize that ankle
Malachi tries to grab a hold of Ashley, but she is out of reach. He also looks for the ropes, but again he is too far away. He has no choice but to try and drag her towards the ropes so he does that, slowly but surely making his way over to the sanctuary of the strands. Chase tries to hold her position, but Malachi is too strong, and soon enough he is within reach. The referee calls for Chase to let go, but she doesn’t immediately, and waits for the four counts before she does. She then gets to her feet and stomps on the ankle, and then again, really doing a number. Hunt tries to get to his feet, and as he holds the strands the referee tells Chase to back off, Malachi visibly limping. Ashley moves in, looking to take Malachi down again, but Malachi is ready, and dodges her right hand, punching her in the gut and lifting her up, almost standing on one leg. He holds Chase in the Suplex position, and then lets her body crash into the canvas, into a pin
1…
2…
No, kick out by Chase, somehow escaping from the pin and keeping the match alive. Malachi lifts her up, holding her by the throat and delivering a sit down power bomb, straight into a pin
1…
2…
Chase kicks out again, the fans willing her on, the noise almost taking the roof off the Manhattan Center. Malachi is getting more and more frustrated, hooking her up again and hitting a German Suplex, using the momentum to hit a second, then with a smirk out across the fans which gets the precise reaction he wanted, he hits a third, Chase’s devastated body left in the center of the ring. Hunt turns towards Drake at the top of the ramp and signifies that the match is over, and drops down, into the pin
1…
2…
Boos and jeers fill the arena, but then an explosion of noise replaces it, the fans noticing the referees hand, two fingers up towards Malachi who had already lifted his arms in victory. Hunt’s eyes widen, and the referee backs off into the corner, pointing at his shirt. Malachi jabs his finger into the referee’s chest, making it clear he believed it was a three count. Behind him Chase starts to stir, and is getting to her feet, Malachi realizing this and running in, taking her down once again with a Body Block which only the ropes save her from hitting the outside. He raises his arms aloft, Chase in real trouble. He runs towards her, looking to hammer home another Body Block, but Chase takes a couple of steps forwards and cuts Malachi in half with the Walk of Fame, her version of a running spear. Malachi is down, but Ashley is too exhausted to cover. The referee checks them both over, and is just about to start the count, when Ashley drapes her arm across Hunt’s chest
1…
2…
Kick out by Malachi Hunt, the fans looking on in disbelief.
Susie: Almost, Ashley almost stole the match right there with the Walk of Fame, Malachi quite literally walking into it. Get the keys ready Malachi, you could be handing them over to Desmond Drake right here.
Chase gets to her feet, obviously exhausted, as Malachi somehow finds it in himself to pick himself up. He swings a right which takes him off balance, Ashley hooking his arms and hitting a Double Arm DDT. On impact though she doesn’t let go, and wraps her legs around Hunt, pulling back on his arms.
Susie: Submission move right here…Chase has this, Malachi has nowhere to go, and he has to tap. Doesn’t he?
She shakes the ball again “Of course”
The referee drops to his knees, asking Malachi if he wants to quit. Malachi shakes his head, doing his best to try and escape the hold. He flounders, trying to get any part of his body he can to get to the ropes. He hutches his body, and slowly starts to move, all the time his face etched with pain. The crowd is going bonkers, the referee continuing to ask the questions, Malachi swearing and cursing at him, refusing to quit. He finally gets close enough, and puts his left foot on the rope, the referee pulling at Ashley’s arms and telling her to break. Again the referee has to count to four, till she lets go, but when she does her eyes are narrowed, focused, the adrenaline surging through her body.
Susie: Both these individuals giving their all and refusing to quit. Johnny would love this…
Ashley drags Malachi to his feet, kissing him on the cheek and then on the other, then kissing him full on the mouth.
Susie: Now what the hell is happening…kids, close your eyes
As she pulls away, she looks for a moment as demure as she possibly can, Hunt wondering what the hell just happened. Ashley then out of nowhere delivers a stunning Super Kick to underneath Malachi’s jaw, Hunt toppling over and to the floor, Ashley heading to the top turnbuckle.
Susie: We’ve seen her go up here before…this could be it folks
Ashley turns, so that she is facing out towards the crowd, readying a Moonsault, but unbeknown to her, behind her Malachi is up, and he climbs the turnbuckle. She spins around, but a moment too late as Hunt as her in his clutches. He then falls back, drilling her with a Gut Wrench suplex from the elevated position, Chase left unmoving on the canvas
Susie: Was Malachi playing possum…?
She consults her Magic Ball which answers with a “Seems so”
Malachi stands over Chase lifting his arms aloft, and then for good measure leaps in the air, dropping his leg across Ashley’s chest. She doesn’t move, and the fans seem to know this, the noise intensifying still further. Malachi glares at the referee, snarling at him to get into position. He then hooks the leg, applying the pin, counting along with the referee
1…
Susie: Come on Ashley, one more time
2…
It’s the biggest noise of the night so far, as the fans give it all
3…
The noise drops, but then erupts again, as the referee signifies a two count, then slides immediately out the ring as Malachi comes after him. Up on the ramp Laymon’s eyes widen, not believing what he is seeing. Drake still looks on slyly, enjoying the massacre and the potential for what is to come.
Susie: I don’t believe it; she kicks out again, Ashley Marie Chase showing she has all the courage and determination of her sisters, and then perhaps some.
Hunt runs his fingers through his hair, the referee sliding back into the ring as Hunt helps Ashley to her feet. She can hardly stand; such is the effect on her body from this brutal match. He doesn’t care though, and hooks in the Abdomination abdominal stretch, Ashley shouting out in agony.
Susie: Oh my, Malachi looking to snap Chase in half
Malachi continues to stretch Chase, the referee now asking Ashley if he should call for the bell. She point blank refuses, trying to ignore the pain which is surging through her body. She is unable to move, and slowly she starts to pass out from the agony, her eyes closing, and then snapping open as she tries to fight. The referee asks again, but again gets a negative answer, Malachi constantly telling her to give up. Her body goes limp, and the referee is about to lift her arm when Malachi drops her to the floor
Susie: She’s out, she didn’t quit, but she is out of it.
Malachi stands over her again, putting both hands on her chest, obviously enjoying it a little too much. He looks up at Drake who is smiling, and about to make his way to ringside
1…
2…
The celebrations begin, Drake holding his arms aloft. But it’s not a three count, at least not according to the referee who again hasn’t counted three, but two
Susie: I don’t believe it…Ashley Chase is unbeatable; Malachi Hunt simply cannot finish the job here.
Hunt’s not happy….not at all. He stands up and grabs a bundle of hair, now slapping Ashley to her cheek several time.
Hunt: You’re facing a man right now little girl…a man you can’t beat.
He sizes her up and then rushes backwards into the ropes, bouncing off then coming back in with the Kentucky Lariat only to run into the Walk of Fame. The spear nails Hunt’s ribs and connects with enough force to put him down…not only down…but maybe down for three?
1
2
3!
Yep…it accomplished just that, picking up the win for Ashley Marie Chase…a MAJOR victory.
Susie: She’s done it…she’s beaten the big foul mouthed Kentuckian….meaning no one will see her lady lumps this evening.
The bell has chimed…the bout is at an end…the crowd is recovering from the physical and acrobatic battle…and Ashley Marie Chase and Malachi Hunt rest on their backs….trying to recover as well.
Susie: Another great match…Wouldn’t you agree Magic 8 Ball?…..Most likely….Ah good…glad to see we’re in agreement again.
At last Hunt has rolled from the ring, leaving Ashley inside, to be the subject of Desmond’s wrath.
Drake: Terrific…terrific outing Ashley…truly…what a performance…A career defining one I dare say.
Ashley is conscious enough to wince in disdain.
Drake: But you wrestling…that’s NOT what these paying fans want to see….No….in this day in age…the only thing fans want out of female wrestlers is for them to be objectified…hence why most companies only hire former swimsuit models who don’t know a wrist lock from a power bomb. So do what you do best…sell this pay-per-view not via your wrestling…but through giving us some skin….
Ashley is now the one who mouths the words, ‘are you serious?’
Drake: Come on now….something has to be done to erase the visual of Billy and Jacob French kissing from the minds of these fans…and what better than the sight of Ashley showing what the good lord gave her. So lets snap to it…take off those clothes…and take them off NOW!
Once more Ashley is forced to stand in opposition to Drake and his disgusting demands. She paces the ring, shaking a head towards the hollering Desmond, who wisely lingers on the stage.
Drake: Alright….you know what Ashley….maybe Tay-Tay won’t be the only one forced to compete in handcuffs tonight….Maybe I’ll have you bound and put you in a match against Aaron Harrison just to warm him up…And then you know what I’ll do after that? Just to make sure you properly suffer for your disobedience….I’ll make Tay-Tay wrestle all THREE members of the Blacklist in that World Heavyweight Title match tonight….How do you like the sounds of that? How would you like to be the one who adds to your sister’s suffrage…..to her DESTRUCTION?
Ashley looks down at the canvas, forced to contemplate her decision.
Drake: I already had one woman fly in the face of my authority this evening…I will NOT have two….So take off those clothes Ashley…or God help me….you will NOT like the consequences.
The crowd is clearly not receptive to this idea…or at least those of the non red blooded male variety…who are actually feigning disgust but secretly anticipating the strip tease. Ashley at last is left with no other option….and with tears in eyes begins to pull up on her shirt.
Drake: Yeah…that’s it….slowly…sensually….
There is nothing slow or sensual about the Singapore cane swung into Executioner’s broad back. The masked behemoth collapses to the stage after being taken out by Orlando Cruze. Drake turns and makes a load in his pants equal in size to the proportions of his own body. Laymon spins toward his best friend…or former friend at this point…and gets a caning to his ribs.
Susie: It’s Baldy McCruze!
The cane has doubled Laymon over….but that’s not good enough. Orlando swings the cane right over his back and puts him down on top of Executioner. The vengeful Orlando….full of piss and vigor rushes at Drake with the cane, swinging it at his big head. Desmond intervenes in time to turn, grab Billy by his pants and pull him in the way of the cane, causing Mayne to get cracked over the skull. Billy falls to the steel and Drake ascends up the steps into the ring. He then goes darting across it, trying to avoid Orlando but instead being caught in the clutches of Chase…Ashley keeping him from getting away.
Susie: This has been so long…so long in the making…Ashley is holding Desmond so Orlando can finally get his retribution.
Into the ring slides Cruze with cane gripped tightly and malicious intent inhabiting his eyes…malicious intent that has been stored up so long….and has been building and building and building…to this point…to this point of destruction. At long last Orlando has him…Desmond square in the crosshairs…ready to take the shot that splits Drake in two. He gestures to Ashley to take her leave and after Chase confirms the request, she finally vacates, leaving Desmond and Orlando mono a momo..
Drake quickly tries to scurry away but gets caught by the belt and actually lifted into the air by one arm before being tossed back to the center of the ring. The alarmed Desmond falls onto all fours and then looks up with petrified eyes as Orlando slowly approaches him, swinging the cane playfully out to his side, so yearning to use it in order to detach Desmond’s head from his shoulders.
Susie: Do it Lando…take this mean perverted midget out…reclaim your throne….save your Tay-Tay.
The sniveling Drake cups his hands together in prayer and actually begins to beg Orlando…but his prayers are falling on the deafest of ears…Surprisingly Oruze doesn’t just bash his skull in and instead grabs a microphone, building more and more anticipation before he at last dispatches the menacing midget.
Orlando: You have no idea Desmond…no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this….how long Tay-Tay’s been waiting for this…how long all those boys and girls in the back have been waiting for this….and how long these people have been waiting for this.
A resounding chorus of cheers from the crowd, who confirm Orlando’s suspicions.
Orlando: Look at you…cowering there like the rodent you are….caught in the mouse trap….And there’s no getting out of this one, Desmond, not even by chewing your own arm off….Your about to get a cane sized enema….…
Just to confirm what a sniveling worm Desmond is….Orlando lowers the microphone down to his amplify his pleas for the masses.
Drake: Please Orlando….ple…ple….PLEASE! I’ll do anything…anything….just don’t….
Orlando: Anything you say?
Drake: Yes…absolutely anything.
The lips may be trembling but they form into a grin, Desmond finding his one avenue to escape.
Drake: What do you want Orlando….name it.
The end of the cane jabs Desmond in the chest and knocks him to his extra wide derriere.
Orlando: First…I want you to call off your dogs tonight…I want that World Title match between Aaron Harrison and Taylor Chase CANCELLED.
The shaking Desmond gives this demand thought…which doesn’t sit well with Orlando.
Drake: But…..but…think of the buyrates….people at home won’t be happy.
Orlando: CANCEL THE MATCH!
The cane retracts, about to crush Desmond’s skull.
Drake: FINE….it’s off…it’s OFF…now please let me go.
Orlando: No….we’re just getting started, Desmond.
A horrified Drake scoots across his bum into the corner with each step Orlando takes towards him, cane resting across his shoulders and the back of his neck.
Drake: What more do you want?
Orlando: I WANT a confession.
In spite of the terror that plagues Drake, he still makes an attempt to feign confusion.
Drake: Confession?
Orlando: Don’t make me repeat myself.
Drake: Okay….Just please…..Don’t do anything brash.
Orlando: If you want to WALK out of this ring tonight…you confess to the Board all your scheming…all your manipulation…all the tricks you pulled in order to undermine me, and get you to your position of power. You confess to working with the Blacklist…you confess to setting me up….to setting up the Chase’s….to setting up the Savior…you confess to everything.
Desmond: But Orlando…I would never….
The cane pulls back, resulting in an entirely different tune from the pint sized President.
Desmond: Okay…whatever you want Orlando….whatever you want me to say I’ll say it.
Though it appears Drake is playing along…appearances are always deceiving…especially in the IWC. From the corner of Orlando’s eye he spots Drake gesturing with his hand towards the backstage area.
Orlando: Expecting someone?
A boot comes down on top of Desmond’s wrist, pinning the gesturing hand to the canvas. Drake roars in agony as Cruze puts his weight down to the point where it almost crushes Desmond’s bony arm.
Orlando: I wouldn’t count on anyone coming out here to help you, Desmond…Cause although I’m not very well liked in that locker-room…you’ve managed to make even less friends that myself in your short….pun intended…tenure as President. And some of your disenfranchised workers have decided to take a stand alongside me tonight.
The foot is taken away from an all around distressed Drake…he expresses sheer terror the moment the Cartel-tron lights up and reveals Silence on her knees just beyond the curtains, having drawn a sigil on the floor….ensuring that anyone who wishes to step through the entry way would have to try and pass over said sigil and suffer unspeakable horrors in the process. But Silence isn’t the only one insuring Desmond gets precisely what’s coming his way, because both Jackson Adams and Nathan Creed are standing on opposite sides just off the stage….neither man willing to let a soul pass through the crowd and reach the squared circle in time to intervene in Drake’s torture.
Orlando: No one is coming out here to save your ass, Desmond…So start flapping your gums and confess to everything…everything!
Drake: Alright…..if that’s what you truly want, Orlando…I‘d be proud to put all the cards on the table.
Desmond actually shows some balls once he realizes that his fate has been determined…sealed…and that he’s got nothing left to lose. He stands up with the aid of the ropes and gives a defiant stare towards the vengeful Icon.
Drake: I admit it…I did everything in my power to see to it that you were removed as President of this company.
The confidence begins to grow in Desmond as he actually brushes dust and lint from his shoulders while pacing under the ever watchful eyes of Orlando.
Drake: I wasn’t lying when on the first day I set foot in this company, I confessed to being an unabashed Orlando mark….Ever since I was a little fella…even littler than I am now…I was watching your exploits in this ring…I was rallying behind you…I was spilling soda and potato chips all over my college dorm-room as I leapt around totally marking out at the sight of you winning the World Heavyweight Title against Desolation…against Hurse….You were the man Orlando…my all time favorite super-star…and you still are.
Orlando shakes his head….trying to figure out where this is going..
Drake: You still are my Icon…you still are my hero….
Orlando stops shaking his head and starts tilting it…still wrapped in a cocoon of confusion.
Drake: At the risk of sounding cheesy….You were pretty much the guiding light in my life, Cruze. You’re determination…your heroism….you’re never say die attitude…it was inspiring. It made me believe that I was able to overcome all my defects to pursue my dream. You gave me hope Orlando…you gave me that belief in myself….So my life’s ambition…was to do everything…absolutely everything to break into this industry…and to…meet you…to shake your hand…
Desmond extends his palm towards Orlando…but no attempt is made whatsoever to reciprocate the gesture.
Drake: And I came so close….so close….I worked my way up to being an apprentice to Mr. D….I used my savvy and determination to prove to the Board of Directors that I could be your parole officer…for all intensive purposes…..and keep you in check… After all, who better to wield influence over the Icon, than a man who had devoted his entire life to following his career. And then…then it finally happened…there we were…the first edition of Riot!, Orlando Cruze…Desmond Drake…same space…same time…my hand out…the culmination of all my dreams about to become reality….then…you snubbed me.
The hand drops to Drake’s side and his chin lowers to chest.
Drake: You treated me like a nobody….like a chump…
Orlando mouths the words ‘I call it like I see it.’
Drake: You turned your back on me and just walked away when I was so eager…so eager to finally have your ear….to finally have a moment of my hero’s time….It was then…at that very moment, that I realized I hadn’t done enough….nowhere near enough to impress you….to earn your respect….So I started to watch how you conducted business…how the NEW Orlando Cruze did things here in the IWC…..And it became evident to me that in order to get your attention, I needed to demonstrate that killer-instinct….that back-stabbing mentality you’ve been showing since the day of the IWC’s rebirth….I was just…just trying to earn your respect, Orlando…I needed you to see that I’m capable of going toe to toe with you…it was the only way…the only way to finally get you to acknowledge me….
Orlando cannot believe what he is hearing.
Drake: And though it isn’t the handshake I was looking for…I take it as a personal honor that your about to take that cane and cave my skull in…because at last…it acknowledges that I’ve got your attention….And no doubt, soon enough I will have your respect…
The cane in Orlando’s hands has never felt so heavy….as he suddenly feels the burden of having created the stubby monster before him.
Drake: Have I done a good job, Orlando? Are you not impressed? Did I not prove that I could be your equal? That I could manipulate, connive, and scheme just as good as you? Deep down, aren’t you just a smidgen proud of me?
Orlando: Proud?
Desmond nods eagerly.
Orlando: I’m fucking repulsed.
That eager nodding stops and dead eyes glare upon the Icon.
Orlando: You got me figured all wrong, Desmond.
Surprisingly Orlando becomes the one making a confession.
Orlando: I admit…I made mistakes since IWC’s rebirth…and that’s JUST what they were….Desmond…mistakes….Lapses in judgment. I’m not about manipulation…I’m not about scheming…back-stabbing…treachery. I was suffering from a complete and total identity crisis. My ego was getting in the way of what was good for this company…and now that I’ve taken a step back and looked at my actions…I’m repulsed by them. But I’m even more repulsed by what you’ve done, Desmond.
Drake: Really?
The words drip of cynicism.
Drake: I tried to be a stand up guy…I tried to be just like the Icon of old and that got me nowhere…Then I try to be like the new you…and that got me even more disrespect…..What the hell does it take to earn your approval? WHAT!?!
Orlando: Yeah…trying to get me fired….that doesn’t…
Drake: But if I were the man who finally cost you your career…you’d have to take notice of me…you’d have to see that I was a formidable foe…
Orlando: Having Rose Savior savagely assaulted…then putting her in the special referee position for the World Title match cause you claim to love her….that isn’t exactly…
Drake: I admit to no prior knowledge of what the Blacklist and Frankie Paradise, were going to do to Rose….My agreement with the Blacklist…was that we would work together to see to it that Taylor Chase became World Heavyweight Champion, that you were removed as the President of the IWC, and that Harrison would get his one on one match against you…Everything else…I was completely in the dark on…
Orlando: You honestly expect me to believe that?
Drake: It’s the truth, Orlando….I would never intentionally do anything to harm, Rose…but I saw what the Blacklist did to her as a necessary evil, to set you up and see you removed from your position of power….to give you no further options when it came to facing Harrison…and at last seeing me as your equal.
Orlando: I see you as nothing more than a pathetic toad…Desmond…We will never be equals….NEVER.
Desmond’s lower lip quivers.
Drake: Is that so?
He hides the tear in the corner of his eye.
Drake: Harrison really was right about you….Right about you all along…And you know what…you’re right….We’re NOT equals…because I’m so much better than you could ever aspire to be.
The boldness exhibited by Drake has the crowd absolutely stunned…and Orlando taken aback.
Drake: You would never…NEVER be able to put together a plot as brilliant as the one that the Blacklist and I put into fruition…One that ensures Harrison holds the World Championship…keeping it out of YOUR clutches….and giving Harrison the one on one match…the opportunity to at long last depose you from this roster./
Orlando: Desmond…you just keep on digging yourself in deeper and deeper.
Drake: It shouldn’t be me worshipping you…it should be you worshipping me….No…no…it should be you BEGGING me! Begging me to show your precious Taylor Chase some leniency tonight….Because if you think threatening me with that Singapore Cane is gonna accomplish anything…it’s not…that World Title bout…it’s still gonna happen…unless…unless….you BEG…Yeah…get down on your knees right now, Orlando…and BEG! Grovel at my feet, and then maybe I’ll consider calling off that title bout.
Orlando: If you honestly think….
Drake: I SAID BEG!!
A palm engulfs Desmond’s face and flings him down to the canvas across his back….Rage consumes Drake as he slowly pushes himself up from the canvas and glares with furious eyes upon his hero. Orlando is about to give Desmond even more reason to loathe him…pulling back the cane on the verge of at last exacting his revenge.
Harrison: Whoa…whoa…whoa….hold on, Orlando…
Since he can’t get to the ring Aaron Harrison settles for appearing in the bleachers…Standing to his sides are Mika Kozlov and Lukas Montgomery.
Harrison: Before you go and bludgeon your misguided fan there….hear me out…I have a proposition…A proposition that would resolve all of this.
Orlando isn’t about to buy a single…solitary word uttered by Harrison…hence why he’s still approaching Drake with cane in hand.
Harrison: Now Orlando…don’t be so skeptical…I ensure you that the last thing either of us want is for any harm to come to Taylor Chase….So I have a method of resolving everything….Let Desmond leave the ring….and then come backstage and meet me in his office….where I’ll make you an offer you couldn’t possibly refuse.
The Blacklist step back through the entry way embedded in the stands…amongst the screeching hecklers and drunken masses. Although he should know better than to trust Harrison…any opportunity to save Tay-Tay is one he couldn’t possibly turn his back on. So he’s forced…in spite of all his desires to crush Drake’s head like a peanut….to let the President scurry from the ring and leap over the barrier, rushing straight up the steps.
Adams: Are you fucking serious?
Nathan tries to calm Jackson as he lunges to the apron with a microphone snatched from Thomas Boll in his hand. He is no longer content with watching from the side of the stage, feeling the need to say what’s on everyone’s mind….though he’s not the likeliest of spokesmen.
Adams: GOD DAMMIT CRUZE…GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!!
Once in the ring Jackson storms back and forth, kicking the ropes and punching the top turnbuckle pad under the attentive and confused eyes of the Icon. Nathan stands on the apron, shouting at Adams and insisting he cool off…but Jackson is nuclear at this point.
Adams: You’re just gonna let him walk away? You had your chance to put an end to Desmond…to get your revenge…to save the IWC….and take back your power…and then you just…you just let him walk off? Why? Cause you can’t stop being led around by your dick?
The moment his trousers are pointed to, Orlando directs the cane into Jackson’s chest, poking him in threatening fashion. The staff is swatted aside and Jackson moves his finger from trousers to Cruze’s face.
Adams: Do you have any idea what you’ve done? That little piece of shit drugged me…Orlando…he TRIED to drug you….He cost me pay…he cost me my reputation…he kept me out of the fold for over a month….And yet when you get the chance to finally crush that Warwick Davis wannabe…you…you/….FUCK!
Adams stomps his foot and almost rips his own hair out.
Adams: When I came back to this company I thought things were going to be different…I thought you were taking the federation down a more honorable route. I staked my reputation on it, Cruze, my credibility. I stood behind you because I saw your vision for the IWC…I bought into what you were trying to do here…but now I see that what everyone was saying about you…is true…You are a monster…You are another Dan Douglas…Playing favorites and making biased decisions that leaves crap in our cornflakes….I can’t believe I was willing to trust you, Cruze…that I couldn’t see it….that I was so fucking blind….
Nathan: Jacky boy…now isn’t the time…
Adams: No…this needs to be said…and it needs to be said right now…
Jackson pulls away from Creed when Nathan has the audacity to put a hand on his shoulder…all in a poor attempt to calm him down.
Adams: I should have known better than to have faith in you. It’s bad enough that you were intent on using me as a stooge to help get over your new crop of talent…but to then let Desmond get off Scott free…after poisoning the one man who has remained loyal to you since IWC’s rebirth…it’s a God dammed kick in the nuts…
Nathan: Jackson…PLEASE…
Finally Creed gets Adams to shut up by forcefully pushing him back into a corner even though he repeatedly has his hands batted away. In spite of the threats being thrown in Nathan’s face by a furious Adams…Creed will not step back.
Orlando: Nathan…please talk some sense into your friend here…
Nathan: And why should I?
Now it’s Orlando’s face that Nathan gets into.
Nathan: As sickening as it is to admit…Jackson is right…He makes a lot of valid points, Orlando.
Cruze can’t hear this…not from Nathan…not from the one man he can still call a friend.
Nathan: Do you remember what happened last week, Cruze? When you had your hands shackled and were forced to compete in a handicapped match? I do…I still have the scars on my forehead to remind me.
Hair is pulled back and scars are revealed lining his scalp.
Nathan: I took a beating for you. I spilt blood for you. I stood at your side to my own detriment. And for what….to stand here now watching you let go the man who arranged all of that?
The stress is almost causing a nose bleed….Creed taking a breath to keep from blowing a blood vessel.
Nathan: You can’t let your personal feelings cloud your judgment…I know you love Tay-Tay…but you can’t let her stand in the way of what’s best for this company….You can‘t put one person above your entire roster…
Orlando: Easy for you to say, Nathan…But you can’t tell me that if Krissie were forced to wrestle tonight with hands shackled behind her back, against Harrison, that you wouldn’t do everything in your power to save her?
Nathan doesn’t deal in hypotheticals.
Nathan: Lando…you need to see the broader picture…
Orlando: No…I’m through with this…With all of this….I’m not gonna let Tay-Tay be torn apart by that pack of rabid wolves…So you either deal with it and get on board…or you and Adams can both kiss my ass.
Enough has been said…no more words needed….Orlando throwing down the microphone.
But Adams has a lot more to say…chewing out Nathan at the moment….who sighs and tries to placate his tag team partner for the evening.
Rain: Such lack of trust…
The arena lights dim and the only area of the building emitting any illumination is the Cartel-tron…flashing with imagery of Rain, Priest and Brandy Danielle, the trio collectively known as End Effect. Their faces are zoomed in upon…adding a particular menace to their aura.
Rain: So sad when you can’t trust your own friends.
Priest: Not a problem for the End Effect.
Brandy: Cause we’re more than friends, we’re a family…a family that trusts each other.
Rain: A family that shares a common uniting goal.
Priest: The destruction of the old guard….the old ways.
Brandy: And the rise of the End Effect….and a new industry.
Rain: Which starts here…and starts now.
When the lights come back up the ring is surrounded by the very three individuals who just moments ago were featured on the Cartel-tron. Rain, Brandy and Priest. Like Indians they circle the wagons…those wagons being Adams, Creed and Cruze, their fists raised in anticipation of a fight.
Susie: It’s three of the scariest people I’ve seen since I watched Something’s Gotta Give….Diane Keaten is terrifying.
The whole building is shaking in suspense as the three men who hold such strong opinions of one another, clinch fists and go back to back to back in defense of the trio slowly making their way up to the apron. It seems the End Effect have no bones about including Cruze into their list of victims this evening. But that list expands when
“In Ashes They Shall Reep.”
As if the ring and ringside area wasn’t ripe enough with a dangerous mix of estrogen and testosterone…now Gary Matt and Brooklyn Smith come strolling AROUND the ramp, considering the sigil Silence drew backstage keeps anyone from accessing the standard entrance ramp….The pair moves to the ring and are about to turn the odds in the favor of the three man tandem trapped in the ring.
Susie: And here comes the Maniac and the Anorexic. The Enders Games haven bitten off more than they can chew….Which I recently learned how to do while walking…so yay….I can totally multitask.
Once Matt and Smith move to the mats the End Effect tentatively backs down from the apron, giving Cruze just the backbone he needs to lift the microphone to his lips and make a major announcement.
Orlando: I might not be the president of this company anymore….but it seems to me that we’ve got three groups here looking to wage a war….so how about we get ourselves a three way tag started right now?
All parties seem to be in agreement, including Adams, who seems quite enthused at the prospect of getting out some of his aggression and at the same time forcing these up and comers to prove themselves within an IWC ring. Creed is full of steely eyed determination….especially when catching a glimpse of Matt leaping to the apron beside him, the man who holds a victory over him at the last Riot!
Susie: Uh-oh….Magic 8 Ball, can you believe we’re gonna be getting ANOTHER three way tag match right now?…You may rely on it….Thanks for your permission to get all giddy about this.
Orlando rolls out of the ring just as referee Stuart Wright passes through the curtains of the entry way. He gets about three steps down the ramp before in an odd display begins swatting his hands through the air, as if batting something away. He then continues to do so until it becomes apparent that he’s being swarmed by flies. The group the flying pests attacking him grows larger and larger and larger until Stuart is overwhelmed and eventually falls to the ramp, coughing flies out of his mouth and sneezing them from his nostrils.
Susie: Quick…quick…someone get the referee some Raid and hose him down.
All six athletes remaining within the ring are none too concerned about the plight of Wright….how Seussian….and are only focused on each other….Several officials rush AROUND the sides of the stage…wisely avoiding the sigil Mr. Gaunt has placed just in front of the entry way….and coming to the aid of their cohort while Michelle Blacker darts to the squared circle in order to officiate this three way tag. As she slides in and calls for the bell, the End Effect form a huddle outside of the ring, discussing strategy.
Susie: And here we go-go…don’t leave me hanging like a yo-yo.
Adams is adamant about starting out the match, telling Creed as much then shouting at everyone else involved in this match that HE’LL be one of the two legal participants. The other role is assumed by Brooklyn Smith, who is quite eager to show her unique skill-set. This doesn’t make Jackson happy…not happy at all…pointing towards the End Effect, right into Rain’s face…insisting that he’s the one that he wants…o-o-oooo….the one he needs…oh, yes indeed. But Brooklyn will not be subservient to the demands of any man…through assuming the role of a slave.
Her failure to obey, does not sit well with Adams, who rubs his eyes then throws his fist directly at Brooklyn’s face. She steps behind Jackson and delivers a big kick to the crease of his knee…followed by a shot to the back of the thigh…then one right between the kidney blades. The rapid fire kicks sends Adams into a twirl, turning to face another inbound boot, this one hit after Smith performs a full spin into the back heel kick landing directly to the ribcage.
Susie: Olive Oil is all over Adams like he were Popeye’s grotesquely engorged forearm.
Into the ropes races Smith, bouncing off and coming back in at Jackson’s face with BOTH boots this time. But she finds herself thwarted when both legs are captured in the clutches of Adams, and he drops her directly to her back. He then lifts them up and tries to step through in order to go a variation of the sharpshooter locked in. But that’s not what happens….Adams unable to apply the hold before Smith rolls back onto her feet and then dives forward so that her shoulder nails Jackson to his ribs.
The blow doubles Adams over, grabbing at his mid-section just as Smith leaps to her feet and then grabs the back of her opponent’s head, beginning to deliver kick after kick directly to his face. The multiple shots have Adams reeling but not for too long…He eventually catches her leg before it can nail him to the face once more and then shoves down on it…..causing her to turn her back on him. Adams then grabs her arms from behind, hooking them and turning around her around into position for the un-prettier…determined to end this match and end it quickly….While also proving the multiple points he made about the inferiority of the new batch of stars.
That point will remain just an opinion at the moment, cause Smith pulls her head free, grabs Jackson’s shoulders and then leaps right over top of his head. She lands in front of Jackson then almost flips back into a big kick…delivering a modified pele kick of sorts right to the top of Adams’ head.
Jackson goes staggering back into the turnbuckle, falling against it just as Rain reaches over the ropes and slaps his shoulder…
Dollar: Any person can tag any other person into this match…meaning this is gonna be crazier than Crispin Glover trying to give David Letterman a roundhouse kick.
The tag is about as insulting as the kick…forcing Adams to spin around with clinched fists aimed at Rain….who refuses to enter before Jackson has taken his leave. At he behest of Creed, Jackson does depart, making his exit so as not to risk a disqualification for his team…Though the last thing Michelle would ever do is DQ anyone given her insatiable masochistic desires.
But Jackson does take his leave while mouthing a series of slanderous obscenities aimed at Rain….who now stands opposed to Gary Matt, who received the tag per his request. Brooklyn makes her exit and Gary makes his entrance, he and Rain facing off as the two newcomers look to go at it. They circle before Matt goes in for a collar elbow only to have Rain baseball slide straight through his legs. He lunges to his feet behind Gary and then ducks a back elbow from the Maniac. Gary looks surprised by the speed and precognitive abilities exhibited by Rain, who then ducks a knife edge chop as well.
He speeds off into the ropes, ricochets off then leaps into the air, landing right on top of Matt’s shoulders before spinning around into the hurricarana. He snaps off, sending Matt flipping forward and crashing across the canvas. Ultimately the Maniac reaches his feet and twists just in time to spot Rain giving him a menacing glare.
Susie: Yeeeaahh…flippidy doos…oh how I love ye flippidy doos.
There are only a few areas of Rain’s face exposed behind his mask….his eyes….which give a foreboding and menacing glare into the direction of Matt, who doesn’t back down the ominous glare he’s receiving. In fact it only fuels him to step forward and deliver a big kick to Rain’s gut, doubling him over. The End Effect member is shot off into the far ropes but the masked man leaps into the air, landing on the middle cable, springing off just as Nathan slaps him on the knuckles, tagging himself in.
Rain twists across the ring into a big cross body but Maniac ducks down at the last second, causing his opponent to go sailing right over top of him.
But instead of hitting the canvas to rib fracturing results, Rain lands on his feet then rushes forward at his stooped opponent. He delivers a dropkick to the posterior of Matt, sending Gary flying forward across the ring and through the ropes shoulder first into the ribs of the man who just tagged himself in. Creed is knocked off the apron and sent flying to the outside of the ring while Rain charges in behind Matt and takes him around the waist, rolling him over backwards into a pinning predicament. He ends up seated across the back of Maniac’s thighs, compressing his shoulders to the canvas.
Michelle refuses to make the count though, for multiple reasons…firstly because Rain isn’t the legal man…secondly because she really doesn’t want this chaos to come to an end. But before the count even has a chance to be made…Nathan slides into the ring and rushes into a big knife edge chop across Rain’s chest, sending him flipping backwards off the pin.
Rain collapses to the canvas then rolls backwards across it onto his feet, falling against the ropes just as Creed charges in and levels him with a lariat to the throat. The blow sends Rain twisting over the cables and collapsing across the mats, laid to waste by his vengeful opponent. Nathan turns his aggression to Matt, who comes in swinging with a right hand only to have Creed duck in the eleventh hour. A shoulder wedges to Gary’s spine and he is now back dropped over the ropes.
But the cables serve not to Matt’s detriment but to his aid. He grabs them, lands on the apron then waits for Creed to spin around. Nathan turns and launches a right hand only to have Matt duck and grab Creed around the back of the head, pulling him down throat first into the top rope. Creed’s head snaps back and he goes staggering to the center of the ring while Matt kips back up to his feet on the apron and spots Rain rushing in across the mats. A well timed boot to the face knocks Rain back a few steps before Matt turns back to spot another force trying to take him out as Nathan barrels across the ring, diving at his throat.
Thinking quickly, Matt leaps up to the middle rope and spreads his legs just enough to allow Nathan to go diving through them into a big suicide head butt right into Rain. Both men crash across the mats and then Matt leaps over the top rope and takes off across the ring. He bounces off the far ropes and gets a running start.
Susie: Magic 8 Ball, you might want to get your score card ready….we’re gonna see a dive.
Anticipation is built as Gary rushes across the ring on the brink of leaping the ropes only to be cut off by Brandy Danielle. She darts across the apron and stands right in front of Matt, causing him to stop just before he can deliver a sensational dive. She then throws a forearm into Gary’s jaw, sending him staggering back into the waiting clutches of Nathan, who slipped back into the ring totally undetected until it came time for him to roll Matt up into the school boy.
1
A kick out from Matt keeps the match rolling along. He drops over onto his elbows and knees just as Nathan grabs his arm and looks to take advantage of it. This prompts Matt to go crawling right through Nathan’s legs, refusing to let him get hold of his arm like he did in their last match. In the process he drags Nathan’s own arm right along behind him and eventually through Creed’s legs as well. He stands up at Nathan’s side, hooks the other arm and then heaves his opponent up into the pump handle slam.
Creed is driven into the canvas while Gary pops up to his feet beside him and is about to take advantage only to have his shoulder slapped. Gary spins around to take out Brandy only to have her clear out of the way and for Rain to spring to the top rope beside her. Gary transfers his focus back to the airborne Rain, who crashes seat first across his chest, taking him down to the canvas.
Susie: So much going on it’s impossible to keep track of everything….Are you watching this Magic 8 Ball?….Signs point to yes…..Splendid then…cause I’ll need to use your notes later.
Brandy has slid into the ring, rushes up beside the still laid out Creed and drops down to his side, trying to steal the victory as she applies the Anaconda Vice.
Susie: Brandy gonna do it…she gonna knock his misshapen head off…then he should have it replaced with a triangle head.
A submission seems to be a possibility given what Creed has been put through. But being a man as technically proficient as Nathan, he has a counter to just about every submission. He rolls away from Brandy, sending her rolling over to him and across the ring. She ends up breaking the hold and resting on her elbows and knees. She then ducks her head and rolls forward, leaping from her feet and delivering a flying forearm right to the face of a recovered Nathan. Both Creed and Danielle hit the ring but Brandy isn’t down for long. She scrambles back to her feet, rushes to Nathan’s side and drops down, beginning to apply the Anaconda Vice once again.
Just before she can get it applied though, Nathan squirms across his back, plucking his head free from her clutches then turns to face the back of his seated opponent. Nathan takes Danielle around the waist, heaving her up from the canvas into position for the German suplex. But Brandy wraps a leg around the crease of Creed’s knee, keeping the move from being delivered.
Nathan tries again for the German but Brandy won’t be taken over. Eventually a forearm between the shoulder blades removes her resolve and allows Creed to hoist her up into the air for the German. But in mid-air, Danielle twists around and turns to face Nathan, trapping his head in a front chancery while wrapping her legs around his waist.
The head lock body vice combination is quickly zapping Nathan of his strength…but like Siegfried and Roy…Nathan brings a few tricks up his sleeve to Las Vegas….he reaches out and wraps his arms around Brandy’s waist then snaps back into a bridging northern lights suplex, breaking the hold while putting his opponent in a pinning predicament.
Susie: Ummmm…what would Dollar say in this situation…That was NASTY! There…that sounds like vintage Johnny Dollar.
Michelle groans but does her job by dropping and making the count.
1
2
Danielle kicks out just before she can taste defeat, prompting Nathan to roll away from her to his feet. He then goes rushing into the ropes and is subjected to another blind tag, this one made by Smith.
As Nathan rushes back at Danielle, she rolls over backwards straight to her feet and delivers an elbow directly under Creed’s jaw, knocking him down to the canvas. She then goes rushing into the ropes herself…where SHE’S tagged by Adams.
Brandy then goes rushing at Nathan, who looks to log roll directly into her ankles, but Danielle leaps over him…In mid flight she’s clocked right to the chest with a dropkick from Brooklyn…putting her down the hard way. Smith then lunges up to her feet looking to seize control of this match for her team only to have control wrenched right out of her clutches….falling victim to her own tactics…having no idea that Jackson was tagged in before its too late.
Adams rushes in beside Danielle, catches her around the waist then snaps over into a back drop driver. The top of Brooklyn’s head and shoulders collides with the canvas with such gruesome force that it would lead one to believe that she’s had her neck broken…or at the very least resulted in some serious whiplash.
Susie: Okay…how would Dollar out this….Pure devastation! Hehehehe…see…I don’t even need YOU, Magic 8 Ball.
Adam spews venom at Smith. With a look of malice contorting his features, Jackson grabs Brooklyn by her hair, leads her to a kneeling base then applies a double underhook. Knees begin to connect with Brookyln’s chest and face before he steps to her side, holding down on the back of her head so he can subject her face to a kick.
Jackson: How’s it feel, huh? Ya like it…don’t you…don’t you!?!
Kicks nail Brooklyn to the face over and over again…subjecting her to the same treatment he was put through earlier in this match. He then steps in front of her before dropping into a corkscrew kick that nails her directly between the eyes.
Adams then rises to his feet and does the Karate kid crane stance while mockingly bobbing his head side to side and making some discouraging comments to Smith. His posture allows Matt to swoop in behind him, hooking his raised leg and his neck, snapping back into a release regal suplex. The back of Adams’ head slams with such force across the canvas that he goes flipping over backwards, ending up just within reach of Rain.
The End Effect member slaps the ankle of Jackson then climbs up the turnbuckle. All the while official Blacker is insisting that Matt vacate the ring…which he does per her request. After taking out Adams he confidently turns things over to Brooklyn, who is on the verge of reaching her feet just as Rain begins to sail through the air. He comes flying right down into a cross body across her chest, taking her down to the canvas with Rain on top.
1
2
Brooklyn gets a shoulder up but Rain won’t give up. Another kick she is subjected to…being pulled up onto her seat and then drilled to the face with a disgusting roundhouse kick.
Susie: I don’t think Brooklyn Smith will ever look at a soccer ball the same way again.
A writhing Smith TRIES to get up off of the canvas but Rain won’t back off. He sits her up and then wraps an arm around her neck before bridging her up to her feet then ultimately bending her over into an ‘n’ shape as he applies a submission that contorts her body into a downright awkward position. Smith’s limbs flail as she tries to escape the hold but just can’t twist her neck out of this predicament.
Rain keeps the hold tightly cinched in despite all of Brooklyn’s many gyrations to escape. Finally she reaches up and hooks her fingers under the bicep of her opponent…slowly pushing it away. Somehow to the surprise of everyone…she’s able to break the hold, stand up and then back flip into another of the kicks she drilled Adams to the skull with earlier.
But Rain side steps the kick and allows Brooklyn to put herself down on the canvas before flipping forward and crashing across her chest with a senton splash. He then rolls over to his feet before consulting onto Smith’s sternum. Surprisingly he doesn’t go for the pin, and instead sits Brooklyn up while applying ANOTHER dragon sleeper variant.
Susie: Why isn’t he going for the pin and instead looks for the submission…Magic 8 Ball?….My sources say no….Ugh…I’m actually starting to miss Dollar.
Though Rain should have the submission…should have the tap out…..should be on the verge of bringing home the bacon…if the End Effect even eats bacon….Brooklyn puts feet to the canvas and bridges herself up from the canvas. She then lifts a knee, nailing Rain to the face with it…then does it again..then again…eventually forcing him to break the hold.
She plucks her head free and reaches out, wrapping hands around the back of Rain’s neck then snapmaring him across the canvas. He land son his seat while a groggy Brooklyn rushes backwards into the ropes and gets big right hand to her kidneys…one delivered by Priest.
The kidney punch goes undetected from the referee, but what Michelle does get a good look at is Rain kipping up to his feet and then rushing at the ailing Brooklyn, leaping into a diving knee to her sternum.
Smith is knocked into the ropes and through them. She lands on her knees, really feeling the effects of this match….her pay-per-view debut not going too well. She grabs the apron and uses it to reach her feet while Brandy drops to the mats in front of her and then comes charging in. Smith turns just in time to catch the knees of her opponent, standing up and back dropping Danielle through the air. She comes crashing down right on top of the mats while Brooklyn staggers forward and falls against the steel steps.
She uses them as a crutch for only a moment before leaping up onto them and then back flipping into a moonsault at the recovering Danielle. But instead of taking down Danielle, she ends up caught in the clutches of the menacing Priest. The imposing figure imposes his will on the match, shoving aside his stablemate so he can catch Brooklyn on his shoulder, then throw her down face first into the stairs with a snake eyes.
Susie: Something needs to be done about that big Jason Voorhees looking fool outside of the ring….Before he can continue to haunt this match like he’ll no doubt be haunting my dreams tonight….leaving my sheets wet for reasons I care not discuss.
Off the steel ricochets Brookyln’s beautiful face, leaving her stumbling back into Priest’s arms as he catches her by the throat and the stomach, heaving her up then throwing her through the ropes back into the ring via the gorilla press. Wisely Rain was distracting the referee by discussing with her the black leather shortie shorts she chose to wear to this match.
Once Brooklyn is back inside…Rain is on top of her…just not in a pinning capacity. He rushes in and delivers a kick right to Smith’s ribs, knocking her over to her back. To the apron climbs Danielle, requesting a tag and who is Rain not to acquiesce to her desires. He steps in, slaps her palm and brings her into the action. The two then step towards Smith, both athletes grabbing her wrists and dragging her up to her feet. Rain nails a knee to her ribs and then Brandy spins around into discus elbow to her temple.
Brooklyn turns towards Rain who nails a dropkick on her shin, knocking her to a kneeling base. Then Brandy drops to her opponent’s side, applying a crossface so that her head is elevated. Rain then comes rushing forward and delivers a shuffle side kick right between Brookyn’s eyes.
The swift and stiff shot echoes throughout the arena while Brandy breaks the crossface but keeps hold of Brooklyn’s arm. She drops down into a forward roll across the canvas but then uses the gripped wrist of her opponent to drag her up to her feet and then whip her off into the ropes.
Brandy turns and bends forward, looking to get some revenge via delivering a back drop of her own on Smith. But Brooklyn turns, falls spine to spine with Danielle and then flips over to her feet. Danielle spins around to wrap hands around the throat of her prey, but it’s too late, cause Smith is already diving across the ring slapping the outstretched hand of Matt.
Susie: The Maniac is in…and things are about to get real nuts up in this joint….Not that I condone joints…Which as I understand it is slang for a marijuana cigarette. Though apparently my mother smoked lots of it when pregnant with me and there were no side effects to speak of.
The tag is made and Matt has to be prompt…thinking on the fly…cause within seconds Brandy is charging right at him and into a gut to the ribs, doubling her over. Maniac then drops to his back and slides under the ropes, ending up right under Brandy then delivering an uppercut to her jaw. All five knuckles nail the face and send Brandy staggering back to the center of the ring while Matt uses the ropes to reach his feet, pulls himself unto the second rope and springs off, twisting around into a big flying knee strike that nails his opponent to the nose.
Danielle goes down but her partner is up and running, Rain racing across the ring and diving at the ‘unsuspecting’ Matt. But it was all a trap…the Maniac acting aloof in order to lure in Rain and ultimately side step him as he goes flying by. Rain leaps up to the middle rope but springs to the top, about to back flip only to have Matt rush in and derail his momentum, by shoving his legs out from under him.
Rain lands seat first on the top rope then falls back, hanging in the tree of woe. Maniac stands up, about to take advantage only to have his own thoughts disrupted by another inbound opponent. Brandy has not only recovered but is charging in…charging right into a belly to belly suplex by Matt, flipping Danielle over and sending her crashing upside down right into the hanging Rain.
An explosive pop is heard from the crowd at the sight of Maniac cleaning house. He pops up to his feet and then backs across the ring, arms outstretched to his sides, fingers twiddling in anticipation of hitting his full nelson slam on an unsuspecting Brandy. She’s just starting to stand up and the Maniac is about to swoop in when his arm is grabbed from the apron.
Susie: Not this tall scary tattooy dude again!
Maniac is spun around and grabbed by the throat by Priest, who has boldly stepped up onto the apron intervening on behalf of his team. He’s just about to choke slam Matt to the depths, only to have a boot driven right into the crease of his elbow, knocking his arm away. Gary not only avails himself of the choke slam but sends Priest turning towards Nathan, who rushes across the apron and takes him down with a lariat to the throat. The clothesline knocks Priest to the outside…but the menacing behemoth isn’t the only target Creed has in mind.
He reaches over the ropes, slaps the bicep of Matt and prepares to enter the match only to have a fist swung into his jaw. Gary knocking him down to his knees and preventing him from coming in. He then turns just as Rain leaps off the middle rope only to be caught across Matt’s shoulders and slammed into the canvas with a power bomb. Matt bends down into the creases of Rain’s knees, refusing to acknowledge that he was tagged out of this match….But one person who HAS to acknowledge it is Blacker…who refuses to make the count…
Actually there’s TWO individuals who acknowledge the pin….the other being Nathan, who slips in behind Matt, wraps arms around his waist then snaps back into a German suplex. He then spins his hips, pulls Maniac around and to his feet. He then backs up into the ropes with Matt trying to fight free. He then snaps over once again into a release German that sends Matt flipping over the top cable and coming down right on top of a recovered Priest at ringside. Both men collapse onto the mats amidst a huge reception from the crowd.
Creed then swoops in behind a sluggish Brandy, takes her around the neck before she realizes what’s what and delivers the Underdog. The version of the Eye of the Hurricane puts Danielle’s head into the canvas in particularly painful fashion.
Susie: And Box Head hits it…making Brandy’s head just as misshapen as his own.
Creed rolls over to his elbows and knees upon taking his vengeance out on all the End Effect members…wait…scratch that…he forgot about Rain, who rushes straight at Creed, who stands just in time to catch his opponent with a tilt a whirl. But counters by landing on top of Nathan’s shoulders then snaps back into a hurricarana.
Across the ring Nathan is launched, ending up kneeling in front of his partner….Adams’ hand stretched out begging for a tag….Creed gazes at the palm for a moment…thinking it over before ultimately resolving himself to tagging in his former nemesis. Adams slides through the ropes right into the action amongst much fan fare and frivolity from the crowd.
Susie: Jackson’s been chomping at the bit to get his grubby palms all over the End Effect…now’s his opportunity to….
Rain spins around and comes eye to eye with Adams….who cracks his knuckles and smiles. He then throws a big right hand into the temple…..of Creed….The fans are absolutely flummox when Jackson begins to rain down fists into the face of his own tag team partner.
Susie: Ummm…me thinks Jackson is confused…but that seems to be contagious around here.
No…there is no confusion…evident by the grins forming on the faces of Rain and a kneeling Danielle. They watch proudly as Adams steps back with a stunned Nathan’s head in his clutches. He then pushes Creed back only to ultimately close the distance between them with a thunderous super kick right to the cheek. Obviously Creed was caught with his britches around his ankles….not seeing this coming from a mile…no…from ten miles…no…no…from across state-lines….no…no…from the other side of the hemisphere…that’s how much this caught him off guard. And the surprise is just as evident amongst the fans….who with eyes opened wide…and jaws to their sternums…watch as Adams not only takes out Creed but celebrates the moment via a few high fives shared with the End Effect.
Susie: Cup your BALLS! Seriously? Is this one of those ‘swerve’ thingies I hear so much about?
Indeed…her suspicions are confirmed….because Adams has just pulled a trick out of the hat…and all the fans in attendance really want to whoop that trick. But the only ones getting their hands on Adams, are Rain and Brandy, who swarm in upon Jackson and draw him into big hugs. The three then turn, setting their sights on a defenseless Nathan….who in spite of having his brain turned into scrambled eggs…is trying to pull himself up with the use of the ropes.
Just as he gets his feet under him he’s grabbed by the shoulder, spun around and grabbed by the creases of his knees. Rain drops him to his back then falls in reverse, sending Creed catapulting into the clutches of Danielle, who leaps into the air, catches him around the neck and delivers the DDT, planting his already injured skull into the canvas.
An amused expression consumes Jackson’s face….backing into his corner and watching Creed’s destruction with a cackle of laughter.
Once Creed has been cleared from the ring…all but vanquished by all these destructive forces coupled with the metaphorical knife lodged in the small of his back…Adams begins to point to the outside of the ring where Priest has gotten back to his feet and HEAVED Gary up over his head….about to gorilla press him back into the ring.
But then Brooklyn rushes across the ring behind Brandy, grabs the back of her head and pants, charges her at the ropes and throws her through, turning her into a human projectile. Danielle flies right into the face of Priest with an unintended suicide head butt. The two go down with Matt collapsing onto them both.
Susie: Looks like dear ole’ Brookie Boo is taking the Whitman, Legion approach to tag team wrestling…using everyone as weapons against each other.
Rain suddenly swoops in behind Brooklyn, grabbing her hair and twirling her around into a big lariat that misses. Smith ducking under the shot and waiting for Rain to turn back towards her. The moment he does, she goes airborne, landing right on top of his shoulders, then turning her back to the ropes and dropping over them. She managed to hurricarana Rain to the outside of the ring before standing up on the apron.
Just as she does Jackson swoops in at her side, takes the back of her head, rushes across the apron and drives her face first into the far turnbuckle. Brooklyn falls to her knees and now Adams steps back, shouting a plethora of insulting terms directly into her ear…raging from mildly chauvinistic to downright pig headed….But all the while…as he unloads with such disheartening rhetoric…Creed is sliding into the ring behind him…but he doesn’t come alone…cause he has a steel chair in his clutches.
The referee is so busy concerned with the chaos outside of the ring that he fails to notice the anarchy unfolding within it. Just like Jackson, he doesn’t turn around in time to see the chair being swung right into Adams’ spine.
Susie: Nathan with some instant payback.
Adams arches his back from the blow and turns ever so slowly to face the chair swung right between his eyes….absolutely cracking his skull. Nathan then steps over Adams and lifts the steel above his head, about to bring it down and implode the ribs of his on again off again rival…and said rivalry is definitely on again. Before he can exact further retribution….Rain and a shaken up Danielle reach under the ropes, both individuals grabbing his ankles and pulling his feet out from under him.
Nathan is then dragged to the outside of the ring, taken by the back of the head and both Rain and Brandy charge him into the steel turnbuckle post, opening up the laceration in his forehead created last week by Harrison and Paradise. Nathan twirls to the mats where he lies in a near comatose state…The End Effect look so proud of themselves that they don’t even notice Brooklyn climbing to the top rope, steadying herself then flying half way across the ring in order to hit a massive leg drop directly across the prone Jackson’s throat.
The crowd comes out of their seats as Smith hooks Jackon’s leg and the official finally turns to acknowledge the action. To the ring falls Blacker…slapping the canvas….
Once
TWICE
THRICE!!
Somehow the reaction only gets louder now that Smith has just picked up a truly momentum boosting victory for her team.
Susie: And the Maniac and the…erm…the Smit, pick up big win…Everything just seems to be turning up roses for these two. Though if their turning up roses…I wonder why it smells so foul in here…almost oniony.
With this three count Gary Matt and Brooklyn Smith continue their inspired roll…picking up their second win in as many matches under their belts….But the victory cannot be enjoyed…for the moment that Brooklyn rises with arms raised by Blacker…her whole body is sent toppling down thanks to the big spear to her ribs delivered by Danielle.
Brandy puts her to the canvas and crawls on top of the unsuspecting Brooklyn, throwing right hand after right hand after right hand after right hand into her face with the intention of absolutely destroying her pretty face. On the outside of the ring Gary is not fairing any better. Already he’s back up…back up in the arms of Priest, who has him in a power bomb predicament, charging him across the mats and only releasing him in order to throw Gary spine first into the exposed turnbuckle post.
Matt bounces off the steel with a rather ghastly thud…eventually finding himself sprawled across the mats unable to move even an inch of his mangled body.
Inside of the ring Brooklyn is dragged up to her feet by both Rain and Brandy….holding her up so that a recovered Adams can then step in and slap her across the cheek. But if only a slap was the biggest of Brooklyn’s concerns…it isn’t….Because he now delivers a boot right to Brooklyn’s ribs…doubling her over so that he can pin her arms to her side, heave her up and drop her down with the Blissful Arrogance.
The Package Piledriver lays to waste the helpless Brooklyn…and there seems to be no one here to save her from further wrath…Or at least that’s how it appeared…at first…emphasis on that whole…at first part…Because now rushing down the ramp to much fanfare is Axl Evermore. He slips into the ring, and immediately gets between Jackson and his prey…Evermore TRYING to reason with Adams…considering the two struck some time of accord on the last Riot!…Adams seems to be listening…hearing Axl out….letting him flap his gums to his heart’s content before finally shutting Evermore up via the kick to his crotch.
Without an inkling of sympathy, Adams steps over Axl’s head, pins his arms ot his sides and heaves him up into a second Blissful Arrogance…dropping Evermore down onto that very same concussed head that has kept him out of the IWC for such a lengthy duration of time.
Susie: Awww…that pony tail offered Axl NO protection from that piledriver….So sad…I thought he…Adams and Creedy created some type of super friends alliance…And now it’s just dissolved right out here in front of us.
Adams’ past alliances are thrown asunder in favor vacating the ring with three new and improved partners…Rain…Brandy and Priest…The quartet embarks towards the backstage area after leaving a mound of bodies in their wake….
Jack: I really don’t see why I’m here.
The cervical collar wearing grappler formerly known as WINO Jack…and now just going by his actual name…if he can remember what it is….sits under the bright rays of an interrogation light. The bulb is turned and shined directly into his eyes, causing him to lift his hands in an attempt to shadow them
Simon: You’re here…Jack….because you were the last man to see Lois Prince before she was abducted by Ba’al.
A still hurting Cagero steps behind Jack, engulfing his thin little shoulders with his broad hands in ever so imposing fashion.
Whitman: Indeed…..so squid pro-pro….you should know where we can begin our search?
From across the table Whitman…holding his handkerchief to his lacerated forehead…winks towards Simon…who can only sigh and carry on with the interrogation.
Jack: Listen…all I know is that the second Whitman went to the ring…Kitty had Lois and I go to fetch some chairs for tonight’s bible study….Then the minute we got hold of the chairs I turn around and Lois vanished…I don’t know what happened to her.
Simon: You‘re hiding something…aren‘t you….aren‘t you…you hairy little muppet?
The light….loaded on a flexible and maneuverable swivel is pulled even closer to Jack’s face, causing him to blink and sweat under the heat.
Whitman: Tell us what we wish to know and be prompt with it.
Whitman’s fist hits the table and shakes it…resulting in him pulling back and coddling his bruised knuckles.
Whitman: I will get physical with you knave…if that’s what it takes to render a confession.
Simon: Ya’ see this Jack…the guy is El Loco….he‘s crazy…look at those eyes….they‘re fucking crazy man….fucked up!
Jack: Aren’t you the same guy who confessed to having an au pair until you were like seventeen years old?
Whitman: That’s neither here nor there…now give me answers before I lose my patience.
Menacingly…about as menacing as Whitman can be…he leans upon his knuckles over the table to get right into Jack’s face.
Jack: Okay…okay…I admit it…I slipped up….
Simon: And what’s THAT supposed to mean? Where did you take her? And what orifice did you put it in?
Somehow he gets the lamp even closer to Jack’s eyes, almost signing the hairs from his eyebrows.
Jack: I didn’t go to get the chairs with Lois…I snuck out back and had her cover for me as I had a drink…I’m not proud of myself….But I just…just couldn’t….
Whitman: So you were off getting knackered while my Lois was in mortal jeopardy?
Jack: How the hell was I supposed to know she was in trouble….No one said anything to me…
Whitman: I should give you a sound and relentless thrashing you….you…..
He tries so hard to be spiteful…but just can’t find it in him to express malice.
Whitman: Now tell us everything…EVERYTHING!
Well forget that…cause Whitman rather MALICIOUSLY plucks Jack out of his chair and flings him spine first against the wall, digging caws into his face.
Jack: Alright…alright…I sold some barbiturates to Mark Comeau…
Whitman: Everything!
Again Just Jack is driven spine first against the wall…an impression of his body left in its surface.
Jack: I never learned how to read….
Tears stream down Jack’s face as he is reduced to a sobbing mess. Before Whitman can truly give him something to cry about, Simon intervenes….hooking his arm and dragging him away from the traumatized and blubbering alcoholic.
Simon: That’s enough Whitman…
Whitman: He’s hiding something…I can tell it…We cannot afford this lead to go cold.
Simon: Take it easy…Percy…
Whitman: Stop calling me that….
Cagero’s hands are shoved from Whitman’s chest and now it’s Percy’s finger that encroaches upon Simon’s personal space, waving in his face.
Whitman: And you need to tell me why you’re helping me….Why I should trust you.
Simon: I have reasons, Percy….getting back at Ba’al amongst them….Now let’s stop focusing on me…and start discussing other leads….
Though it’s Whitman’s finger he’d like to snap…Simon just snaps his own…having an epiphany.
Simon: I’ve got it…We need to find someone on the wavelength of Ba’al…Someone else who can do all that conjuring and mysticism shit…
Whitman: Don’t tell me, PLEASE don’t tell me.
Simon: I’m confident that if we can find a member of the Black Crusade, they’ll be able to take us your Lana…
Whitman: It’s Lois…
Simon: Same difference.
Whitman: And why would the Black Crusade assist me? Especially after what I did to Legion earlier in the evening?
Cagero bats his eyes in reaction to this ‘revelation.’
Simon: You did something to Legion?
Whitman: Again…WHY are you helping me?
Simon: I’m sure it’s all water under the bridge, Percy…forgive and forget…that’s the Black Crusade mantra…..I’m positive of it.
Whitman: I hardly think they…
Simon: Just move your ass…times a wastin…
Was it blood loss….too many shots to the head….or just plain desperation that led Whitman to accept Simon’s help? In spite of what ever the motivating factor was…he’s now regretting his decision.
Cameras race towards a door marked by a star with the name ‘Gavin Taylor’ written in the center. Loud voices filter out of the room and into the hallway…The distinctive voices of Adam Chase and Gavin Taylor. And the elevated tones have nothing to do with a celebration amongst client and agent.
Chase: I’m asking you for one more favor…Gavin….one more favor!
Gavin: I’m not some errand boy, Adam, and that’s all you’ve treated me like since I got here. I’m an All Star….not a lap dog.
Chase: You know I have your best interests in mind, my Boy, just do this one last thing for me and then…..
Gavin: And what have you done for me ADAM? Where’s my World Title match you promised me at Awakening? Where’s my main events? Where are my appearances on Leno, Letterman, and a to a lesser extent Fallon? How come my name isn’t on the marquee for tonight’s pay-per-view? How come I’m not the main attraction?
Chase: I promise you, Gavin, I’m working on it….you’ll be the one everyone is talking about in due time…Just help me out in beating down Damion Sommers and Cassidy Haze…and when the Tag Title situation is resolved, then I can focus all my energy into….
Gavin: It’s never gonna end, Adam….NEVER….I’m not some dumb muscle….I deserve better than this.
Chase: Well…maybe if you actually started winning some matches….
No more shouting…no more bickering…just dead silence. After the awkward lull the door flies open and out of the room storms Gavin flesh & blood Taylor….his back turned to the door…and to the stunned Adam Chase standing within the room. He picks up his cell-phone and begins to play with some apps while leaving his manager to stew in his own juices.
Kathryn: Nathan Creed….
Knight: Hmmmm…marry.
Kathryn: Jackson Adams….
Knight: Kill…definitely kill.
Kathryn: Simon Cagero….
Knight: I think that one is pretty obvious.
The pair known as Unity continue their game of objectifying various members of the male roster while Knight prepares herself for in ring action…..slipping on her knee-pads.
Knight: Got one for you….Desmond Drake….
Kathryn You know that little twirp actually hit on me a couple weeks ago.
Knight: That’s just all kinds of creepy.
Kathryn: Tell me about it…I had to go back and take ANOTHER shower after that.
Although she’s already competed for the evening…Pearson is still in wrestling gear…and won’t be slipping out of it until the end of the show…never knowing when she might be forced into competition again.
Kathryn: How about….Christian Savior?
Knight: Hmmm…tough one…but I guess I’d have to go with….
Before the answer to the age old debate of ‘marry, screw, kill’ can be given, the door to the woman’s locker-room flies open and Taylor Chase shows no hesitance to enter.
Tay-Tay: Oh…hey ladies…
Chase is unsure how to interact with Knight and Pearson, both of which going on about their business.
Kathryn: Taylor.
Tay-Tay: I don’t suppose either one of you have seen Rose around here anywhere?
Every inch of the locker-room is scrutinized by Tay-Tay, bending this way and that, craning her neck to look into various corners.
Knight: Rose Savior?
Tay-Tay: No, Rose Byrne….of course…Rose Savior….
Kathryn: Nope.
Knight : We haven’t seen her.
Tay-Tay: Hmmmm…Well…thanks anyways I guess.
Chase turns to leave before Pearson makes a throat clearing sound….drawing in Knight’s eyes. She then tilts her head several times towards the World Heavyweight Champion….drawing Knight’s vocal cords to respond.
Knight: Hey Tay-Tay…hold up.
Though she really doesn’t have any time to waste…considering that her World Title bout is mere moments from occurring…she takes a moment she doesn’t have time to spare in order to address Unity.
Knight: Listen….Tay…..Kate and I….we’ve been watching the past few weeks and we really don’t like what we’ve seen the Blacklist doing to you.
Kathryn: You can probably guess that we’re no fans of the Blacklist…and that includes Aaron Harrison.
Knight: So if you want to even the odds tonight….since Harrison will probably have Mika and Montgomery in his corner…you can count on us….We can be there for you.
The thought weighs upon Tay-Tay…who puts a finger to his chin…tapping it several times.
Tay-Tay: I appreciate the offer ladies…but I think Brittany Lohan will do more then an adequate job of watching my back.
Kathryn: Like you can trust that psychopath.
Tay-Tay: Brittany’s a good friend of mine…girls….I KNOW I can trust her…But again…thanks for the offer….I appreciate it.
The World Champion leaves the room continuing to search for Rose…and leaving the Unity to discuss the offer they just made to Chase….truly putting themselves out there…in a valiant attempt to see justice done tonight…and to potentially put the screws to the Blacklist.
Taylor has plenty of other thoughts on her mind as she steps into the corridor….a very looooong corridor…one that leads to her total ruination. With a sigh she resolves herself to what is on the verge of transpiring…there is no running…there is no manipulation…there is just….a lot of loud shouting? From familiar voices at that? Baritones belonging to the Brod…and Frankie Paradise?
She follows the voices down the corridor and looks around the corner where her father and her suitor are in the midst of a heated argument. Wisely Tay-Tay opts not to interfere and instead to eavesdrop, careful not to blow her cover as she keeps herself tucked behind the wall.
The Brod: You’re not telling me anything I already didn’t know lil man….I’m The Brod…I’m omnipotent.
Frankie: Frankie knows that shit…Brod….I’ve been your biggest fan since before I even came cart wheeling out of Mom’s vag. But seriously. Bro…Brod…I think…even though you are the epitome of awesome…that you’re not seeing things clearly here…
The Brod: For the last time…I don’t TRUST Harrison….BUT….
Frankie: No…none of that…none of that but stuff….not even the “what-what-in the-butt’ you tube awesomeness….You’re right about Harrison. I know the man…I worked with him in the past…
The Brod: And that makes it easier for me to trust you now…why? You’re hardly one to stand back here crying to me about protecting my Pumpkin, when you were instrumental in this whole title match coming to fruition in the first place. You’re hands are just as muddy as Harrison’s.
Frankie: Nah, Brod….it won’t be mud on Harrison’s hands if you let this World Title match go down tonight…it’ll be blood….
The words at last seem to resonate with the Brod.
Frankie: Listen…I would go to Tay-Tay myself and try to convince her to walk away from this…but she’s not gonna hear me out, Orlando’s got into her head…he’s twisted and manipulated her. He’s got her eating out of the palm of his hand….Which means you’re the only one she’ll listen to….If you think Tay-Tay is going down easy…she isn’t….believe me…I wish she would go down eas….
The Brod’s stare forces Frankie’s lips to seal like duct tape was thrown over his mouth.
Frankie: Let me rephrase that. If you buy this bull that Harrison is force feeding you about being the lesser of two evils….and that he’ll go easy on Tay-Tay tonight and just put a merciful end to her World Title reign? Then you’re just as fucked in the head as he is, Brod.
The eyes lower as the Brod employs a very introspective pose.
Frankie: You know your daughter….She ain’t gonna go out without a fight…Even with her hands shackled behind her back she’ll still be stubborn as ever….She’ll make Harrison have to kill her in order to take that strap away…and knowing Aaron….that might be just what he does…in spite of all this shit about respecting your family…and Mika wanting to be a part of the Chase clan. We both know every word out of his mouth is laced in venom….
The Brod: All arguable points…but what would you have me do?
Frankie: Whatever it takes, Brod. Talk to her…convince her to walk away from this match even if it risks her forfeiting the World Heavyweight Title.
The Brod: And if that doesn’t work?
Frankie: Then be a good dad by doing what dads do best…Ground her…Send her to bed early tonight….
The Brod: Meaning what exactly?
Frankie: Drag her away from the building tonight if you have to….Just do ANYTHING….Be her father, man.
There is a lot of decisions to be made, and not a single one of them is easy for The Brod. But Tay-Tay is about to make his decision very easy, straightening her back, pushing out her chest and putting on an expression of pure fiery determination…About to confront the two before they can finish hatching this plan to thwart her World Title bout that evening. She takes a bold step….and that’s about as far as she gets…why….because it’s kind of hard to turn the corner when you’re being dragged backwards by two individuals…Those two individuals being Robin Brooks and Hurse. Before a single word can be uttered by Chase, her mouth has a gag shoved right into by the smirking Robin…all the while Hurse pulls her arms behind her back and pins them there…mouthing insidious comments into her ear.
Hurse: Sorry Tay-Tay….but you’ve got other business to deal with…
Robin pulls her hair back off her shoulder and over her ear so she can whisper into it as well.
Robin: You’ve got a World Title to defend.
Hurse: Let’s not keep the paying customers waiting.
If they hadn’t got the drop on her…if they hadn’t overwhelmed her when her guard was lowered…Tay-Tay would no doubt lay to waste both Brooks and Hurse…but alas…she had her guard down…they got the drop on her….and the only one about to lay to waste…..is the World Champion…currently being dragged down the corridor.
Cameras return to the interior of the MGM Grand where “Good Man” by Devour the Day pipes through the PA system to a mixed reception.
Susie: Uhhhh….the Magic Eight Ball and Susie are back TRYING to keep track of everything happening here….I think my broadcast colleague has probably got a better grasp on this than I do….
The mixture of cheers and boos leans more towards the negative end of the spectrum when a twitching and wriggling Tay-Tay is DRAGGED through the curtains by Hurse and Brooks. Both of her arms are trapped and pinned to her sides as she desperately tries to finagle free from their clutches. They move freely through the curtains now that the entry way was cleansed of Silence’s sigil.
Susie: Weren’t we promised enough bondage tonight? Someone has a serious S&M fetish around here.
Tay-Tay is on the verge of bursting free before Robin throws a boot into her ribs, doubling her over. Hurse then drags her away from his lover into a lariat across the throat, bringing her down to the mats and taking the fight right out of her body. She is then forced up to her feet one more time for purposes of being rolled into the ring…where even more unspeakable horrors await…As Hurse slides in to deliver upon that promise for said horrors…Taylor spits out her gag, jumps on his back and begins to pummel and pummel and pummel him with rights and lefts…keeping her victimizer at bay….putting the same beat down on him that she subjected Hurse to at the conclusion of the last Riot! But this time…there’s another figure who Tay-Tay has lost sight of…Brooks rushing up behind her with a shoe in hand and driving it into the back of Chase’s head
The blow from behind takes Tay-Tay down and seemingly zaps her of energy…leaving her in the type of state NO ONE wants to be in when standing…or laying in a wrestling ring. Hurse makes her plight all the more unbearable when he steps over her back, pulling both arms behind her back and trapping them there…applying almost a version of the double chickenwing in order to quell her fight.
Robin: Well…well…look what the cats dragged in…
With one hand Robin holds a microphone…while the other is used to run her palm across the cheek of Tay-Tay…Chase shakes her head and snaps at the fingers of the Black Widow with her teeth, the only area of her body she has left to defend herself with.
Robin: Seems we have a champion…now all we need is the challenger….
Hurse’s face goes red…shouting something at Brooks and vehemently shaking his head in opposition.
Robin: Oh…oh…aren’t I a silly goose?
A palm finds its way to her face, shaking her head as she feigns dismay for her verbal faux pas.
Robin: I’ve gone and gotten ahead of myself….No….what we need next isn’t a challenger…it’s a set of cuffs….Would those oh so strapping young lads in uniform be kind enough to bring themselves back out here and help us to contain Mrs. Chase? Then we can dispense with all other formalities and get this World Title match at last underway.
The thought of a World Title bout would normally drawl some big cheers and uncanny levels of excitement from the crowd….but tonight…it’s like trying to ooze pulp out of a turnip…there just isn’t any surging adrenaline…any fandom in response to Tay-Tay’s unenviable predicament. One that only gets worse once the curtains part and through them emerges not the two police officers seen earlier tonight…but the woman tasked with handling the officiating for this championship bout…Rose Savior…And SHE’S the one bringing the cuffs to the ring…dangling from her extended fingers.
Susie: Uh oh…it’s Rosey Save-a-lot…and she’s got those cuffs in hands…and a striped shirt on…which means she must be trying to blend in as a defense mechanism against lions.
There is a certain pep in every of Rose’s steps as she sashays to the ring with some flamboyance. That flash is just as evident as she reaches the apron and leaps over the top rope in her striped shirt and black shorts…dressed in proper uniform for the proceedings.
Brooks: Oh goodie….How ya been Rose?
She doesn’t wait for an answer.
Brooks: Think we’ve left all these people waiting long enough, Rose….So why don’t you go ahead, shackle Tay-Tay’s wrists here and get this match a rollin’. After-all, YOU probably want to see Tay-Tay suffer just as much as we do….
Rose shrugs…unable to argue with such a valid point….
Hurse: Bring it over here….
Brooks for once listens to her man’s request, lowering the microphone towards his lips as he continues to bridge the lower back of Tay-Tay and maintain the double chickenwing.
Hurse: Rose..you are definitely a sight for sore eye….
Thankfully Rose has two eyes…that she can now roll simultaneously.
Hurse: I hate to be all needy…but why don’t you let ME put the cuffs on Tay-Tay here….I’m sure Orlando would love seeing me subject his dame to some bondage….
Taylor fights to get free but a punch between the eyes delivered from Brooks puts a stop to that.
Hurse: So waltz on over..hand me the cuffs and I’ll gladly do part of your job for you….Cool beans?
Another shrug….no arguments….Rose extending the cuffs towards Hurse.
The smile couldn’t be any wider on Steven’s face….and the only that could kill it is exactly what Savior does next…She suddenly wraps the chain of the cuffs around his fist and swings said knuckles right into Robin’s jaw. Knocking her to the canvas and before Hurse can even finish throwing Taylor down, he’s being caught around the neck and dragged face first into the canvas via the diamond cutter.
Hurse’s nose and forehead slam against the ring and his back and butt are ultimately what he ends up stretched across.
Susie: What…huh….Holy Moses….Rose just saved Tay-Tay. Are they friends now? Are you gonna start texting each other so they can color coordinate their clothes before showing up on Riot!? Include me in girls…I don’t want to stand out anymore than I already do.
To say Tay-Tay is not shocked is like saying that Molly Ringwold is NOT the best byproduct of the eighties….her jaw has hit the canvas…but not because it was dragged down into it by the diamond cutter that Savior just hit on the man rolling from the ring.
After clearing the disgruntled parties out of the equation via some much needed subtraction we find ourselves down to two…and the problems between them are about to multiplied.
Rose: A little birdie told me that you were looking for me, Tay-Tay.
Rose has found the microphone that Robin dropped to the canvas.
Rose: Well here I am….Say your peace and say it quickly…you don’t want me to get bored.
The microphone is dropped through Rose’s fingers and down to the canvas, not even showing the respect to Tay-Tay to properly hand it over to her. The World Champion is on her knees but only long enough to drag the microphone then leap back…ensuring that she is out of range to be hit with a sudden Diamond Cutter.
Tay-Tay: Your sources are right….Rose…I HAVE been looking for you.
Savior swirls a finger through the air, insisting that Tay-Tay get on with it then.
Tay-Tay: I know you have every reason in the world to want to hit me with the same move you just took that smelly Pirates of the Caribbean son of a bitch out with a few seconds ago, but please…even though I don’t deserve it…just give me ONE second….
Rose: For what?
She might not be holding a microphone but her words can be heard loud and clear.
Rose: An explanation? You’re honestly gonna stand there and expect me to hear you TRY to justify what you did to me…?
Tay-Tay: What I did to you? And what was that exactly…Rose? Hit you in the head with a knee? Take advantage of a situation that if you were in my shoes YOU would have taken advantage of as well? Can YOU honestly stand there and expect me to believe you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing if it meant becoming a World Heavyweight Champion? You certainly didn’t have any qualms about hitting Simon in his injured knee with a Singapore cane to win the title back at Upping the Ante…You didn’t have any trouble smacking ME in the skull with the Singapore cane either to advance to THAT title opportunity….So don’t stand here getting all sanctimonious with me, Rose.
Rose: Were you not the one who brought that cane into the match and TRIED to use it on me?
Tay-Tay: That’s besides the point, Rose….The truth is, I did what your husband has done a dozen times before…whatever it took to become World Heavyweight Champion…And I don’t hear you condemning him…I don’t see you ready to officiate one of his matches to intentionally screw him out of the title…
Rose: Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Tay-Tay….I never said I was going to screw you over…Though that’s not saying I won’t….But I’m only so indecisive cause I’ve yet to decide who I want to see suffer more tonight…you…or Harrison.
Tay-Tay:L The man who left you bloodied…who almost crippled you…who tried to MURDER you just so he could set up my Icon…
Rose: That would be him….Oh and thank you for reminding me just how much fun I’m gonna have tonight not just getting payback on you…but payback on YOUR ICON too.
Tay-Tay: And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.
Rose stops cold…not seeing this one coming.
Tay-Tay: See, I’m not out here to beg and grovel on behalf of myself. I know your going to do whatever you want out there in that World Title match, so I’m not going to even try to sway you….
Rose: Don’t waste your breathe, Honey.
Tay-Tay: The only reason I wanted to talk to you…was to tell you that while I do deserve what’s coming to me….Orlando doesn’t…You’ve been manipulated…you’ve been twisted into believing that he’s your enemy….That he’s some kind of great Satan…but he isn’t…Orlando is, and always has been, a man for the people.
Rose: OH PLEASE!
Scoffs Savior.
Rose: I haven’t heard so much crap come out of another person’s mouth since Aaron Harrison last picked up a microphone. Orlando may think he’s giving these people what they want…but all he’s doing…and all he’s been doing since day one…is feeding his own ego and driving his own ambitions…
Tay-Tay: Please Rose, let me finish.
Rose: No….I warned you what would happen when I got bored…and babe….I’m getting pretty damn bored hearing you come out here speaking up on behalf of a man a hundred times worse than yourself. A man who’s done nothing but turn the screws to me and my husband since the day of IWC’s rebirth….So don’t even bother standing there requesting that I take it easy on Orlando….Not after the unspeakable things he’s done to my family…For you to even stand there and think you could talk me out of…
Tay-Tay: No…no…I knew that wasn’t a possibility either….The only thing I’m asking you for….Rose….is to just open your eyes….to see what’s going on right in front of your face. It’;s like Mr. D said when he showed up last week…We’re all being played…and it’s high time we do something about it….to put an end to it. I for one am not content to be treated like a mouse in a maze. I’m not about to leap through hoops or play horns like some baby seal. I’m not gonna be mistreated like a circus animal…and you shouldn’t want that either.
As much as she doesn’t want to listen…that’s exactly what Rose does…..After-all…how could she possibly argue with this logic.
Tay-Tay: All I’m asking, Rose, is that you think for yourself. That if you do anything to Orlando, or myself tonight…
Rose: ‘If?’
Tay-Tay: That you do it because YOU want to do it…and not because you were manipulated into it by the same twisted bastards who have been playing us off of each other since day one….
Frankie: She’s right Rosey…she’s so damned right…And not just about you looking like a circus animal.
No one requested the presence of Frankie Paradise…but that’s never stopped him from making his presence known before…Hence why he comes swaggering to the stage…down the ramp and up the steps into the ring without missing a beat.
Frankie: Listen Rose….
He rips off his shades just so Savior can see how serious he looks. Tay-Tay wants to rip out his tongue at the moment…and Rose…she just wants to rip him apart period.
Frankie: How DARE you….How dare you stand out here and threaten the luscious Tay-Tay….the GREATEST World Heavyweight Champion in this company’s history. If you had any brains in that freakishly big mug of yours…you’d know not to fuck with the legend that is Taylor Chase…Cause she can do much worse to you than the Blacklist ever did…She can royally mess you up, Savior…
Tay-Tay: Frankie…please…
Frankie: No…no…I got this, Sugar-Tits. You go ahead Rose…you go ahead and you try to put your hands on Taylor tonight…because if you do….I guarantee that you’ll face the wrath of Paradise….that you loose a lot more blood than you did a few weeks ago…I’ll open you up…I’ll spread your ass wide open….and then who knows what will come oozing of you….
Tay-Tay: Frankie…just…
Frankie: This woman…she busted her ass, Rose…she worked her entire career to be World Champion….ands simply because you took a few boo-boos before your match with her….you expect her to just give up her life’s ambition…to take a rain check? Who knew when she would get another title opportunity against you…I mean, it only took her what….thirty years to get her first crack at you…
Chase is outraged over the gross over-estimation of her age.
Frankie: So yeah…she should have done a lot worse to you than just cracking your ugly face with her knee brace….She should have finished you off right then and there…but she’s got compassion….And you…you got nothing….You don’t have her smarts…her looks…and your ass..…it’s flatter than your personality….BITCH! She’s out of your league, Rose…she doesn’t NEED to beg you for anything…because if she puts her mind to it…she could totally kick your vagina all over….
Tay-Tay: SHUT UP! SHUT UP!! SHUT UP!!!
Frankie spins around to face the wrath of Tay-Tay, who has gone blood red. But shortly there-after he’s being spun around to face the wrath of Savior, caught around the neck and dragged to the canvas with a diamond cutter, at last shutting him up literally. Tay-Tay does not lash out…she just watches the plight of Paradise and does absolutely nothing to stop it. Actually the only person Taylor protects is herself, rolling out of the ring just before Rose can so much as get to a knee.
But it’s clear that Rose wasn’t going after Tay-Tay at all….not at the moment…still having plenty of time and ample opportunity for vindication.. But Chase gives her something to mentally chew on and potentially digest.
Tay-Tay: Don’t be a pawn, Rose…don’t be a pawn.
A trashcan is heaved from the floor and thrown half way across the room, crashing eventually against the locker….flung by a man who is a tad bit emotional….Okay…he’s just pissed….Nah…that’s still not a strong enough adjective….he’s as mad as a contestant of the Bigger Loser when they find out that the local all you can eat buffet has been closed for remodeling.
Nathan: How….how did I NOT see this coming!?!
In a fit of raw anger, Creed grabs the door on one of the lockers and with one rage induced tug, rips it clean off the hinges. He even flings it across the room.
Gunner: Nathan….PLEASE!
Two of the newbies busting their humps in the New Age developmental system rush in and attempt to physically restrain him…only to be literally busted by the fists of their trainer. Nathan sets a poor example for his rookies, putting Gunner Bryant and Kevin Dixon to the carpet.
Nathan: Nothing is keeping me away from that son of a bitch…You hear me…absolutely nothing…Stay down and stay the hell out of my way…
Past the toppled bodies of both his students, Creed marches, almost tearing down another door…the one leading into the locker-room.
Nathan: Jackson…I’m coming for you!
The Vegas denizens are so enveloped by Creed’s outburst that it takes them a few moments to react to the following scene. That scene featuring one plaguing influence, Desmond Drake, interacting with three equally as destructive forces in the form of the Blacklist. The plague has consumed the former offices of Orlando Cruze….but it isn’t Desmond seated behind Orlando’s desk…it’s Harrison…getting comfortable in the throne of the Icon. All the while Desmond paces and bitches…bitches…bitches….all under the attentive eyes of Kozlov, Montgomery, Harrison, and Jacob Laymon.
Drake: I don’t get it…I just don’t get what he wants from me.
For the first time in his IWC tenure, Harrison looks genuinely annoyed, but we don’t hear that in his voice.
Harrison: Relax, Dessie, the night is yet young…You’ll have plenty of time to earn Orlando’s respect. If my plans go through, then he’ll be eating out of your palm before you know it.
Drake: You think so?
Harrison: I know so. After-all, nothing breeds respect and cooperation more than threats of violence. And what could be more threatening than the offer I’ll be extending to the Icon?
Drake: True…You’re idea, and the way you’ve all but forced Orlando into this situation, metaphorically binding his wrists and giving him on other options….it was brilliant…And I need just that type of brilliance in my administration. That’s why you’re here, Jacob.
Laymon looks like he just swallowed every amphibian one can find around a swamp.
Drake: Your bumbling idiocy can no longer be overlooked….which is why you’re being demoted.
Laymon: But…but….Mr. Drake….I’ve been loyal….
Drake: No….the Blacklist has been loyal….they’ve been like the family I’ve never had….
Lukas grins, and Mika turns to Harrison with a wink.
Drake: And they know how to get things done….While you were once again tasting steel, laying flat on your stomach across the stage….the Blacklist was watching my back….they were able to get Orlando out of that ring without so much as throwing a single punch. When have you been capable of that Laymon? When have you been capable of accomplishing anything? Seems to me your no more than the punching bag of the Black Crusade.
Laymon: You’ve never had to try to deal with Mr. Gaunt. The guy is impossible to get one over on.
Drake: Then how is it that the Blacklist managed to thwart them? And it seems that in working in collusion with my new family, that we’ve stumbled across quite a proficient means of handling the Black Crusade dilemma. Which is why I think Harrison is deserving of the promotion I’m giving him here this evening. Like Mika Kozlov and Lukas Montgomery before him…I hereby decree that Aaron Harrison will be brought on staff as the new acting General Manager of Riot.
Mika: Oh my Cowboy, congratulations!
Montgomery: If only we had streamers and pop guns.
Without a hint of emotion…be it pleasure or otherwise….Harrison merely sways from side to side in his chair and nods in recognition of this announcement.
Drake: For now on Laymon…you will act as a consultant to Harrison….
Mika: So in other words my Cowboy has his very own secretary?
Drake: That would seem to be the case.
Montgomery: I would have picked someone a bit bustier for the job.
Harrison: Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Drake….I ensure you that you will not be disappointed….And we actually have a surprise for you as well….
Drake: Oh?
Montgomery: We’re a pretty tight knit group, as you may have figured out by now….
Drake: Oh yes….
Mika: Actually….me….my Cowboy…and my Lukie are more a family than a group….and a very selective family at that.
Harrison: We don’t take accepting anyone into our family very lightly…so you should consider it a great honor for us to officially welcome you into the Blacklist.
Unlike Harrison, Drake wears his emotions pinned to his sleeve, swooning in reaction to this invitation. He desperately searches for a Kleenex to swipe at the tears coming to his eyes.
Harrison: Thank you…thank you so much…..This means the world to me….I’ve never had a TRUE family before.
Harrison: Well you do now Dessie.
Mika: Awww come here…GROUP HUG!
Mika outstretches her arms and Drake is all but too eager to leap into them. Before they can all embrace in perhaps the most disgusting sight since a Joel Shumacher Batman film….the door to the office flies open….and the figure who appears in the door frame is Orlando Cruze….
Drake: Easy now, Orlando….easy now…
Cruze isn’t about to take anything easy….forcefully marching into the room where Desmond has taken up residency behind Harrison.
Harrison: Relax Dessie…Orlando WILL play nice.
Orlando: And what makes you think I’m here to listen to a single thing you have to say.
The Singapore cane is still in his clutches, raised in the direction of the two Blacklist members seated on the edge of the desk….but neither Montgomery nor Kozlov are flinching. Laymon on the other hand is wearing a lampshade over his head and standing in the corner in the hopes that his disguise will keep him from being spotted resulting in another shot from the cane.
Harrison: Because you’re gonna WANT to hear what I have to say….Orlando….That is if you TRULY do care about the well being of your precious Tay-Tay.
Kozlov: Listen to him, Landy…none of us want to see anything happen to my Sister tonight…You can prevent that if you just play it cool.
Montgomery: In the immortal words of Sam L…..We’re all gonna be a bunch of fonzies….
It goes against everything…better judgment…his desires…his all consuming hatred for the Blacklist…but he does it…he lowers the cane to his side and settles for waging war with his words rather than using the weapon in his clutches.
One person who isn’t playing it cool…in spite of being the biggest Fonz mark on the planet…is the individual currently pitching steel chairs into the ring.
Hurse: SAVIOR!
It’s not just chairs being thrown over the ropes and into the ring but now Hurse wantonly destroys a very expensive video camera, dragging it right off the shoulder of one of the ringside technicians and tossing it into the squared circle.
Hurse: SAAAAVIIIIIORR!
Robin looks equally as menacing…or suffering some form of intestinal track cramping as she watches Hurse throw an absolute hissy fit….continuing to destroy anything and everything in his path….giving Nathan Creed a challenge who can have the biggest heenie.
Susie: Jeez…was steroids dumped in everyone’s coco this afternoon? Looks like everyone on the roster is in total frenzy mode.
One more object is thrown into the ring, Hurse’s own body as he dives through the ropes, gets to his knees and scoots across them. Eventually he finds his way to a microphone, snatching it up and speaking in a tone so harsh that one would think he’s been smoking a carton of cigarettes and drinking shots of whisky all week long.
Hurse: Rose….get out here right now and do your job!
The handcuffs that were dropped on the canvas after being used to dispense with Brooks, are plucked from the ring and elevated high.
Hurse: Come out here right now…RIGHT NOW….put these cuffs around Taylor’s wrists and then screw her out of the Championship….I said RIGHT NOW you skinny SLUT!
Did somebody say….slut?
The tone is familiar to everyone…including Hurse…..hence why he winces. Through the curtains emerges the speaker, Katelyn Buehler. Microphone in palm and intense expression hanging on her face.
Susie: Total mark out moment….it’s Katelyn ‘My Skin Couldn’t Look Greasier If I Bathed in McDonald’s Frying Oil’ Buehler….Jeez…that may be the longest middle name yet.
For once there is a total lack of fear exhibited by Katelyn…exhibiting none of her normal trepidation or hesitance…fully and completely convinced that her actions are just….thinking with absolute crystal clarity.
Katelyn: As much as I would soooo enjoy seeing Taylor get what’s coming to her….it’s gonna have to wait….
Hurse: Now is not the time, Katelyn….
Katelyn: No…it is the time…MY TIME….
Up the steps Katelyn ascends, getting to the apron and glaring over ropes into the eye of Parkwood, her former beau.
Katelyn: I’ve waited long enough….I’ve gone through extensive training….I’ve worked my ass off for this Steven….And now the time has finally come for me to prove to you…prove to these people…prove to the head honchos…and prove to MYSELF…that I deserve to fight for the World Heavyweight Championship….
The Vegas residents….what are they called…vegans? No….no…that can’t be right….and who truly cares…cause the only thing anyone is swept up into at the moment is the determined tone of Buehler…and the sincerity exuded from her every feature.
Katelyn: So let’s bring an official out here that ISN’T Rose Savior…and let’s do this dance Steven…you and me…one on one…right now. Student versus Mentor….the best possible match to show just how far I’ve come.
Per her request, an official was waiting in the wings, Referee Fitzpatrick darting AROUND the entry way…unaware that Silence’s sigil has been removed from just beyond the curtains. He slides into the ring and begins to clear the debris while the kneeling Hurse glares into Katelyn’s face with a truly twisted expression on his own.
Hurse: Are you sure you’re ready for this Katelyn?
Katelyn: I’ve never been more ready in my whole life….I’m just sorry you have to be the first victim in my quest to the title.
The bell chimes…the ropes part and Katelyn slips through them….only to trip up after getting the crease of her knee caught around the middle cable…..She falls flat on her face mere inches from Hurse.
Susie: Ummmm…..I don’t think this is a good indication of just how much Katelyn has improved.
Buehler leaps back to her feet and dusts herself off, pretending that nothing happened in spite of the fact that her nose is in all kinds of pain. Neither Hurse NOR Robin can bring themselves to so much as look at Katelyn, the two shaking their heads with Brooks’ burying her eyes into her palm.
Hurse: Are you SURE you’re ready?
Katelyn: I’m ready…..I’m ready dammit…now bring it.
Though it pains him to do it…Hurse steps in to embarrass the botchtacular Buehler….who seems to be calling for the test of strength.
Hurse: I’ll make this quick.
He reaches out and slips his arms around Katelyn’s neck when she ducks down, slips around his hip, catches him by the back of the tights and yanking him down into a school boy.
1
2
3!
Jaws have to be raised from the floor as Katelyn….just….just pinned Hurse within a matter of seconds.
Susie: Wait…why is everyone cheering…I was consulting with my Magic 8 Ball…what did I miss…what did I miss…tell me Magic 8 Ball…Reply hazy try again….FUCK YOU!
No one can quite grapple with what they’ve seen….as Hurse’s own…literal grapple….was reversed into a school boy which caught him totally off guard and picked Buehler up a victory. Already heads are being scratched and the fans are audacious enough to ask each other rather Katelyn’s botch upon entering the ring was a trick to lull Hurse into over confidence. Questions may abound, but one certainty, is that Buehler has just picked up a momentum shifting victory. To her feet Katelyn leaps, darting around and throwing arms above her head repeatedly.
Katelyn: I did it…I did it…I did it!
She jumps up onto the turnbuckle, continuing to throw her extended fingers up above her head….obviously mimicking the current World Heavyweight Champion.
Katelyn: Katelyn is back!
She steps up onto the middle rope…but there must be some condensation across the cable, cause she slips off and almost falls back down to the canvas. Katelyn collects herself then steps up onto the corner, a little more carefully this time where she proceeds to celebrate.
Susie: So she won…and I totally missed it….How dare you distract me, Magic 8 Ball…You’re eviler than Pennywise the Clown.
The Vegas denizens….Las Veggies? No….that can’t be what they’re called either…..rejoice right along with Katelyn, who actually seems to be a tad emotional over her victory. Hurse watches from his one good eye the celebration from Buehler….looking largely unemotional in spite of this major loss….one that has seemingly upset Robin more than it has the former World Heavyweight Champion…A World Heavyweight Champion pinned by Katelyn Buehler.
Susie: Biggest win we’ve seen from Katelyn Buehler since the IWC’s rebirth…congratulations Doll….you’re on your way.
Katelyn continues her celebration and this feel good moment here on IWC pay-per-view.
TPKid: What’s wrong….Johnny? Didn’t want to wrinkle you’re wrestling tights?
We catch Johnny Dollar and the Trailer Park Kid…..the two exchanging anything but flowery pros as they stand outside the trainer’s room…..Where their common thread…Porno Lad…is presumably being treated for the injuries he suffered earlier in the evening.
Dollar: What sense would it have made for me to get my posterior rearranged alongside the two of you? Unlike yourself I choose my battles wisely, by using this….
He taps his temple.
TPKid: Your sideburns?
Dollar: NO! My brain….See…unlike yourself, I haven’t destroy it with copious quantities of Keystone or Milwaukee’s Best.
TPKid: Don’t forget Pabst…
Dollar: My point exactly….You’re brain is so degenerated by excessive amounts of alcohol that you….
TPKid: Nah….nah…nah….you’re just a coward Bud…nuttin’ but a coward.
Dollar: Pfft….
A back handed swipe through the air that comes dangerously close to connecting with Kid’s cheek.
Dollar: As if one would ever expect a Neanderthal like yourself to understand the Machiavellian workings of my superior intellect. Just look at yourself, Kid….your clearly in no shape whatsoever to be a constructive member of your team with Porno Lad….why? Because you picked a fight you couldn’t possibly win…While I wisely stayed out of this fracas and now look at me…I’m fresh as a posy….not a scratch on me….I’ll be walking into that Tag Team Title match right as roses….
TPKid: Yeah…but you’ll be going in there with an injured partner….Dollar…one that might be better off had you done something other than sit with your thumb up your ass at ringside….
Dollar: Ha! Unlike you….TPKid…I’m sure Ethan isn’t as fragile as glass. I’ve watched him compete in the IWC for quite some time, I’m well aware that he is one tough hombre. I knew that unlike yourself, he could take a few ticks and just keep on going….
OOOOOOOHHHH.
Either the patient in the Trainer’s Room is having an orgasm…or lamenting his pain….though it’s probably the latter rather than the former. The groan results in the closing of Dollar’s mouth….a lump forming and clogging his throat.
TPKid: You were saying?
Dollar: Get over yourself…
Dollar just can’t take it anymore…conversing with TPKid and waiting to find out Porno Lad’s condition….so even though it may go against HIPPA laws…the door is pushed open and both men step into the Trainer’s Office. The two open their eyes widely at the sight of Porno Lad curled up on a cot, sucking his thumb, cradling his belly and having layer upon layer of ace bandaging wrapped around his skull. The aging Doctor turns to acknowledge the two intrusive forces but doesn’t even make an attempt to chastise them….as it would take far too much work.
TPKid: What did I tell you? Ya‘see Mr. Money Bags? Ya‘see what your negligence caused?
A concerned Trailer Park Kid immediately jumps to the side of Porno Lad, cautiously putting a hand on his shoulder.
TPKid: Ethan…Ethan…can you hear me?
It takes all of Porno Lad’s strength to open his eyes just enough to detect the feint outline of TPKid’s face. It requires even more of his energy…which he possesses very little of to reach out and take Kid’s hand.
Porno Lad: TP….is that you?
TPKid: Yes…but erm….can you please not call me that?
Dollar: It’s only fitting…cause guys like Porno Lad and I…we wipe our rear-ends with people like yourself…Now step aside so I can employ my magical healing touch….
Already he’s cracking his knuckles as he steps in to aid Porno Lad via a good, firm hand holding.
TPKid: Step back…or I swear to God….
Trainer: Gentlemen….please…
The doctor wearing glasses so thick one would perceive them to be fishbowls, at last speaks up to address the unruly parties.
Trainer: If you two wouldn’t mind taking this outside?
TPKid: I have no problem taking this stuffy prick to the woodshed and beating him down to his thousand dollar silk boxer shorts.
Dollar: Typical barbaric reaction from a man of such low social standing.
Johnny turns focus to the excessively thick lenses of the Trainer.
Dollar: We’ll leave as soon as you can tell us how bad off he is…Any possibility of him competing tonight?
The Trainer can’t even be bothered to give an answer…too busy snipping off the end of some bandaging and affixing it to the top of Porno Lad’s head.
Dollar: Heeeellllloooo.
Porno Lad: JD….are you there?
It took everything Porno Lad had left to make the inquiry…reduced to a fit of coughing promptly following his inquiry.
Porno Lad: Yes…Ethan…it’s PG Johnny D.
A shoulder is employed to push TPKid out of the way and now a hand is utilized to soothe Porno Lad, grabbing his outstretched fingers.
Porno Lad: I don’t….I don’t think I’ll be able to wrestle tonight…
Though this revelation greatly agitates Dollar, he feigns concern rather than rage.
Dollar: It’s okay…Ethan…I’ll make do…You just conserve your strength…heal up from these injuries….
Porno Lad: They say….they say that I have….I have a….*coughing*…a split end.
Dollar: How dreadful, I’m so sorry to hear….wait…what?
TPKid: He didn’t just say…?
Dollar: Please repeat that, Ethan.
Porno Lad: It hurts so much….but…but…you tell em Doc…I just don’t have the strength…*coughing*
It exhausts the Doctor to have to flap his gums…but that’s just what he’s forced to do per the request of his patient.
Trainer: Apparently the blow to his hair resulted in a split end.
TPKid: AND?
Trainer: That’s it.
Dollar: You mean to tell me his only injury is a split end?
Trainer: Well that AND a potential cowlick.
Porno Lad: Ohhh the pain….the agony…the horror…
Across the cot writhes the Prankster as more ace bandaging is applied to his hair.
Porno Lad: I’m sorry guys….but I just can’t go tonight….I’m afraid you two will just have to team together.
The thought has both Dollar and TPKid in actual need of some tissue paper at the moment. Johnny looks over his shoulder from his crouching base beside Porno Lad, mirroring the expression of horror draped over Kid’s face.
TPKid: You cannot be serious bro….
Dollar; Why don’t you try walking it off, Ethan? I’m sure you can recover in time.
Porno Lad: I’m sorry boys….truly I am….I won’t be able to give you that superstar rub tonight…not with a split end….Please… Go out there….win the Tag Team Titles…avenge me….AVENGE ME!
A hand wraps around the spandex adhering to Johnny’s chest. Once back to a full upright base….Dollar again makes eye contact with the Trailer Park Kid….the saddest realization setting in upon the pair.
TPKid: Absolutely no good can come of this.
Dollar: You better start using this…(tapping temple)…if you want our team to be successful tonight.
TPKid: What do my sideburns have to do with anything?
Dollar: Good lord…
The temples of Dollar are rubbed by his knuckles.
Dollar: No good can possibly come of this.
The eyes sunk into Mark Comeau’s sockets exhibit little to no life….looking as dreary as a rainy day. But he should be full of pomp…full of pizzazz when serving as a meat in the sandwich between both Brooklyn Smith and “The Maniac” Gary Matt.
Mark: I’m standing by here with the Gar-Bear…and Brookie Boo….the two who managed to secure a massive win earlier this evening.
A moment is taken for Gary and Brooklyn to indulge the sizeable pop filtering into the corridors.
Mark: Congratulations are in order I guess? Am I permitted to give the two of you pats on the backs? Starting with Brooklyn?
Matt: Okay…that’s about enough of that…
The microphone is taken out of the hand of Mark before his eyes, that were lustily gazing upon Smith, turn to acknowledge the theft. Said sullen eyes are then palmed by Smith, who gently pushes him back.
Matt: Someone’s been hitting the eggnog a little early…
Mark breaths into his hand then smells his palm.
Matt: No…no such congratulations are in order….nor would we accept any suggestive pats on the backs….Because our victory was cheapened by the antics of the End Effect….a group indicative of the many problems running rampant in this company…Problems Brooklyn and I were brought in to fix.
Smith offers a mere nod and a reassuring smile.
Matt: In our eyes…the End Effect, their no better than the Blacklist…And since we’re biding our time when it comes to properly resolving the Blacklist situation…I guess we’re free tonight to help Nathan Creed deal with another tumor than threatens to metastasize….The End Effect….
Brooklyn: Nathan….
The microphone is angled to the lips of Brooklyn.
Brooklyn: We may have got the ‘win’ earlier tonight…but the End Effect and Jackson Adams…made us feel like anything but winners….So even though you might not particularly trust us….We’re willing to stand by your side if you go to war with the Blacklist tonight.
Matt: We didn’t get off on a very good start, Nathan….We’ve kind of butted heads over the past few weeks when it comes to your misguided views of the ‘newbies’ around here….but for once…maybe you should depend on the help of a couple ‘newbies’…otherwise…I don’t think you’ll walk away from a challenge with the End Effect.
The microphone is allowed to flip upside down, being held between the cracks of Matt’s fingers before he shoves it back into the chest of Comeau. After making this statement the pair is off….on the verge of teaming along with Nathan tonight to oppose Adams and his new allies, the End Effect. The melancholic eyes of Comeau watch the two walk off before shifting somberly to the camera.
Mark: Looks like I picked a bad time to cut back on barbiturates…
More pills are shoveled down Comeau’s throat and washed down with a shot from his silver flask.
A desk is the only thing that separates Aaron Harrison from Orlando Cruze…Orlando Cruze from Aaron Harrison…But it’s not the few inches of wood that keeps the two rivals from turning the office into an execution chamber….It’s the offer currently being made by Harrison that stays Orlando’s hands…hands currently resting on top of the Singapore cane that is level with the edge of the desk.
Harrison: It’s simple, Cruze….
Nothing ever is given the passions of both men…Harrison’s a bit more peculiar and harder to read than the Icon’s.
Harrison: What I propose is a switch….You take Taylor Chase’s place tonight.
Everyone gathered in the office watch rather intently, every eye, rather they belong to Drake, Laymon, Montgomery or Kozlov are fixated upon Orlando….awaiting his response. His tense hands relax upon the Singapore Cane as his spine turns to jelly and he slouches into his chair.
Orlando: Go on…
This retort….or lack there of….brings a twinge to the cheeks of Harrison…perhaps stifling a grin.
Harrison: Put on the handcuffs, face me one on one tonight…and after I’ve excised this company’s demon….I’ll leave your precious Taylor be….
Mika: Yay!!
There is clearly some reluctance from Orlando, who rolls the cane back and forth across the desk, creating a truly agitating sound of wood to wood.
Harrison: For once, you truly do have the power to fix everything, Orlando. You can have the World Championship….
Orlando: I don’t CARE about the World Heavyweight Title.
Harrison: Of course you don’t.
Orlando: The only thing I’ve ever been concerned with is….
Harrison: Yes…yes…yes….Taylor Chase….keep on telling yourself that.
Orlando: It’s the truth, Harrison. But I wouldn’t expect you to grasp love for another human being.
Mika: Wouldn’t go that far, Cruzey.
Orlando doesn’t even acknowledge the annoyance that is Kozlov, instead staying focused on every facial twitch from the new General Manager.
Harrison: I’ll give you some time to consider my offer, Orlando…To contemplate the ramifications. Because if you accept my offer, you must realize that it would mean stripping Taylor Chase of the World Heavyweight Championship….as she would be forced to forfeit the gold due to a failure to compete….Which I assume would ultimately lead to your satisfaction.
Orlando: You’re so wrong about me, Harrison.
Harrison: What I’m not wrong about is your feelings for Chase…And if you don’t want her to be harmed…then you’ll accept my challenge. Aaron Harrison versus Orlando Cruze one on one tonight….two destinies colliding in epic fashion.
Awe inspiring as it sounds, Orlando is not eager to rush into any decision.
Harrison: Ultimately the choice is yours, Orlando.
Again…all eyes in the room affix upon the debating Icon…..
Come on…if you thought you were going to get an answer and not another cliffhanger you were crazier than two hobos fighting over a cracked egg shell…Instead what you get is the opening rift to “Lights Out” blasts through the PA system…marking the arrival of Brittany Lohan. It doesn’t take long for her to make an appearance and to make her presence known. Now the sigil was removed from the backstage area, making entrances through the curtains a possibility, said curtains part and through them storms Lohan….The Blue Eyed Devil is flanked by Cassidy Haze, who skips around with her hands interlocked behind the small of her back, swaying from side to side.
Susie: Erm…didn’t we already see the tricep terror Brittany Lohan out here earlier? What is she and Mrs. Shadow Eye doing out here together? I hope Cassidy’s gonna fork over another of those giant afros…I’ve so wanted one ever since she gave it to Porno lad.
Up the steps and into the ring….Lohan spending no time on her normal entrance antics…She barely even acknowledges the fact that Cassidy is sitting on the middle rope and pushing up the top cable, parting the ropes for Lohan to enter. An equal lack of time is spent waiting for the microphone and waiting to use it to get the tremendous weight off of her chest.
Lohan: At long last I have my shot at the N.H.B Championship….meaning that I can now focus on other matters….that being tonight’s World Heavyweight Title match….one that is not making my job any easier.
She growls while running a palm down her face, which is now a picture of agitation.
Lohan: I wouldn’t blame you if you’ve forgotten what originally brought me into the IWC….protecting the interests of Taylor Chase…which, admittedly…I’ve done a horrible job of these past few weeks. I mean…if I were Chase I would have stopped lining my pockets ages ago for services I’ve failed to provide. I haven’t been there for her, and it’s been detrimental. Not only has my absence from her side allowed her to be jumped over and over again by various challengers for her gold…but has allowed for the theft of her World Heavyweight Championship…
Lohan should be riding high cresting off the win of all wins in that grueling High Stakes tag team match to open the show….but instead she seems to be in the pits….something within on the verge of gnawing its way out.
Lohan: I permitted myself to become distracted by title ambitions…by issues with the Blacklist…and my own tag team partner this evening…Kathryn Pearson…
Merely mentioning her name causes Lohan’s guts to feel like she has diverticulitis and accidentally ingested a peanut.
Lohan: But those distractions are in the past…and now its time for me to start concentrating on protecting one of the few…perhaps the ONLY person I care about.
Though she makes pretend to be largely unemotional, she cannot help but to emote feelings in regards to her unique relationship with Chase.
Lohan: Tonight I’m going to make amends to Taylor…starting by getting back the World Heavyweight Championship….Tabitha!
Attention turns to the very Cartel-tron that flashed with imagery of Silverstone earlier tonight.
Lohan: We all know you’re here tonight, and you brought the Championship along with you….Now all that’s left to know…is what you want in order to return that Title…Let’s hear your demands, Tabitha…And since I’m partially…okay…ENTIRELY to blame for all of this, considering it was me who took out your client, Sebastian…I’ll make sure that you’re demands are met. I’m willing to do all it takes to make sure that Tay-Tay gets back her World Heavyweight Title…and I’ll go to just as far of lengths to make sure she leaves here tonight with that belt….
She’s interrupted by some entrance music…but it’s NOT the entrance music that Brittany was expecting….’Overture’ hits the speakers and before long Yvonne Knight hits the stage, getting a surprisingly massive pop from the crowd…Who are quite eager to take in the visual feast that is the beautiful Knight. Lohan’s appetite is suppressed by the sight of Knight making her way down the ramp flanked by Kathryn Pearson, who has the audacity to wave in Brittany’s direction.
Susie: And now two of the loveliest ladies I’ve seen since Golden Girls reruns are about to hit the ring…and it doesn’t look like Lohan and Haze are very happy to see them.
In spite of their history….which is anything BUT history…Pearson slips through the ropes and goes straight up into the face of Lohan…until the two winded warriors are almost nose to nose.
Pearson: I’m sorry…are we interrupting you….AGAIN!?! That’s not very characteristic of me is it?
Brittany’s eyes close, her head shakes…she just looks all around annoyed by Pearson’s constant meddling.
Lohan: I’m through with you, Kathryn….Our association is over….It ended the moment that bell rang at the conclusion of the High Stakes Tag match….And you should be incredibly grateful that it’s over, rookie.
Pearson: Wait…wait…wait….you actually think THIS….
She slaps her own chest and then Lohan’s….resulting in the obligatory ‘ooooh’ from the crowd…who are unclear if their attending a wrestling show or an episode of Maury Povich. Lohan knows where she is…and she’s ready to wrestle at the drop of a dime…especially should Pearson lay another finger on her.
Pearson:…is over? No….the way I see it…you cost Unity the Tag Team Titles…and that’s not something I’m about to just forgive and forget.
Lohan: Awww…Pearson…you took that personally? Why? In my opinion you got off easy…
Pearson knows where she is too…and is learning her way around the ropes quite quickly…..and she’ll demonstrate that to Lohan if she dares to form another of her insidious smiles.
Lohan: If it weren’t for Mika Kozlov…and the Blacklist…I would have faced you in that ring last week….and what would have followed…would have been so much worse…Why, you’d even be standing there right now….no…no….sitting in your wheel chair right now…looking up at Cassidy and I holding the Tag Team Titles….
Pearson: We’ll never know, considering that you’re in such a hurry to put me in your past….Why? Because you see that I’m NOT afraid of you…That I’m the only woman on this roster not intimidated by your muscle and your mayhem…And that’s how you beat all of your opponents…Brittany…through intimidation. They buy into this idea that you’re some kind of monster. But yeah…so not buying that blue eyes…I totally see a COWARD…one running away from facing me.
The insinuation actually makes Lohan burst out into a brief laugh…an incredibly brief laugh….that was somehow even more fear inspiring that her intense eyes.
Lohan: No, I’m not running away from you, Kathryn. What I’m doing is moving onto bigger things. You just don’t matter enough to me to merit anymore of my precious time. I have things that actually matter to concentrate on….like protecting Taylor Chase this evening…
Knight: And that’s what brings us out here, Lohan.
Wisely Yvonne slips in, and tries to wedge her student and the Blue Eyed Demon apart…but can’t squeeze her way between the heated rivals.
Knight: This might surprise you, Brittany, but we want to help Taylor tonight too.
This DOES surprise Lohan.
Knight: One of the many things that unite Kathyrn and I is our desire to see justice done here in the IWC…to stand up for what’s right….And what’s happening to Taylor is just wrong, it’s criminal.
Pearson: Now before people get the wrong idea, we’re not condoning any of Taylor’s actions over the past few weeks. She’s done pretty bad things herself. I can’t say that either Yvonne or myself would have taken advantage of a barely breathing Rose in order to win the World Championship….
Knight: But Tay-Tay, she’s been just as much of a victim as a criminal….Some could argue that her actions…no matter how repulsive….have been the result of her persecution by several chauvinistic and ego maniacal members of this roster.
Pearson: And some would even suggest that it’s the company she keeps that has been responsible for her actions…
The comment doesn’t go over Lohan’s head, but instead stabs her straight in the gut.
Pearson: You’re just an all around bad influence, manipulating Tay-Tay, and inciting the same type of behavior that she’s now trying to put in her past.
Knight: And Brittany…hone…the only way for her to put this behind her…is to severe her ties with you. If she wants to turn over a new leaf…as we’ve seen her trying to do tonight…then she needs to distance herself from negative influences like yourself.
That smirk returns to Lohan’s face.
Lohan: You don’t understand the relationship between Taylor and I. She’s not just gonna turn her back on me…not after everything I’ve done for her….Like coming out here to take back the World Heavyweight Championship.
Knight: if you really want to do what’s best for Taylor…you’ll walk away from her, you’ll stop instigating her poor decision making.
Pearson: In other words, Brittany…fuck off and get lost.
Knight: Let us help inspire her to be a better person…and not the type of unhappy…self loathing masochist that you are.
The shaking head of Lohan turns just enough to glimpse Haze over her shoulder…Cassidy already inching a switchblade out of her back pocket….reading the eyes of her mentor.
Lohan: You want to help Taylor? Prove your more capable of helping her than I am. Show me that either one of you DESERVE to stand beside her…
Pearson: You want a fight…I’m all for that…Let’s do this right here…right now!
Tabitha: HOLD IT!
Once again the Cartel-tron flashes with imagery of Tabitha Silverstone and the World Heavyweight Championship donning her shoulder. But this time she also wears a look of complete and utter malice.
Tabitha: As much as I would LOVE to see Brittany Lohan get what’s coming to her after what she did to my client….her punishment will come at MY hands…not yours Kathryn…
Unity and Dark Legacy do not take kindly to this interruption of their plans.
Tabitha: But even though I’ve lost one client…Brittany….I’ve been on quite the recruiting front…and have found dozens of wrestlers who are looking for that moment of exposure…..hungry wrestlers chomping at the bit to be associated with a PROVEN agent…Tabitha Sileverstone…and the woman holding the very thing they have strived their whole careers to capture…
She raises the World Title.
Tabitha: Individuals willing to do absolutely anything to make it to this level….anything…
Lohan has apparently fallen right into the trap…and Unity…Cassidy Haze…their all collateral damage. Into the ring slides not just one…not just two…not three…even four…five….six….it’s become impossible to count the amount of men and woman sliding into the ring wearing track suits and masks identical to the one that shielded the identity of the individual who stole the World Championship just last week.
Surprisingly…for the first time…and definitely the last time…Dark Legacy and Unity conspire together to fight off this onslaught from all of Tabitha’s new clients. She wasn’t lying when she said that she had been on quite the recruiting spree, given the sizeable force invading the ring. Lohan delivers a double lariat taking two down…but for every one taken down…another springs up in their place. Knight and Pearson have a particularly hefty one trapped between them, hitting him eventually with the a step up enzugari/thrust kick combination. Haze then delivers a series of kicks to every in bound gut and chops to every encroaching chest
Susie: This may be the world’s worst masquerade ball.
Through the curtains spills Lohan as she finds herself fighting off four individuals at the same time…one of them hanging from around her neck. They are snapped over and driven into the mats while her boot nails another to the jaw with a shuffle side kick. She then catches another against her palms, throwing her up high into the air and pushing them along directly into the mats.
Haze then rushes across the ring, jumps into the air and connects with a cross body on three of these masked hoodlums, taking them all over the ropes and to the outside of the ring. Now it’s just Knight and Pearson in the ring fighting off the odds…which seem to be growing increasingly and increasingly in their favor. Two individuals rush forward for a stereo lariat, but Pearson and Yvonne duck in time to avoid it. They wait for Tabitha’s clients to turn around and then deliver a double super kick to their jaws…knocking them through the ropes.
Pearson is then grabbed by the wrist and dragged into Ivy’s shoulders…Yvonne pulling her up into a fireman’s carry then spinning around in circle after circle after circle…The airplane spin results in Pearson’s shins nailing masked client after masked client after masked client to their skulls….taking them out and taking them out quickly.
Once the vast majority of the masked assailants have been knocked from the ring…only one or two stragglers left behind…..Pearson is lowered back to her feet, taken by the wrist and whipped into a lariat that connects with enough force to knock the remaining attackers over the ropes and to the outside.
But it’s a force entering…rather than being sent exiting…that drawls everyone’s attention. Gavin Taylor slides into the ring behind Yvonne….
Susie: Where’d he come from? Where did Gavontron seriously just come from? Magic 8 Ball?….As I see it yes….Oookay….That really didn’t answer my question at all, Magic 8 Ball.
For the second straight week a in a row Gavin swoops right behind Knight, taking her by the back of the head and waistband, charging her straight into a turning Kathryn. She spins around just as her own partner is thrown shoulder first into her ribs with a spear, knocking Unity through the ropes and to the mats.
Knight and Pearson look more stunned by Taylor’s attack, than by the assault of this cavalcade of masked clients. Taylor managed to get the drop on the ladies, and now drops down to grab the microphone left on the canvas.
Gavin: Alright….let the speculation begin….Let everyone start assuming that I’m out here to beat down Unity…and assault the Dark Legacy…all because I’m being a loyal little guard dog for my sister in law, Taylor Chase…I mean, that’s pretty much ALL I’ve done since I arrived here…watch out for Taylor…protect her interest…do what’s BEST for Chase….But now I see that it’s starting to come at the expense of my own career.
Gavin mouths the word ‘unacceptable’ while pacing the ring in a huff.
Gavin: All that my Agent expects me to be is a friggin good hand…spending every waking moment making sure Taylor gets her own way…But I’m here tonight to say enough…ENOUGH. I’m not going to be pulled into Chase’s drama anymore. I’m here to forge my own path, to create my own legacy, to become a World Heavyweight Champion.
The fans don’t like this sentiment…not one little bit…..rebelling against the idea of Gavin Taylor holding the World Heavyweight Title even though he’s outright smitten with the idea.
Gavin: And it seems that will NEVER happen with Adam Chase as my agent. He seems to believe I’m here to do nothing more than serve his ends….and the ends of his family. Well I’m not complacent any longer…I want my name on the God forsaken marquee. So…since everyone is in a gambling mood tonight…and becoming Evolution Champion gets me one step closer to that World Heavyweight Title….I’m willing to make a gamble that you cannot overlook Desmond Drake, a gamble that is about to further raise Tabitha Silverstone’s stock….
He looks directly into the camera, as if addressing Silverstone directly from wherever it is she might be watching.
Gavin: Tabitha…If I lose here tonight, then my services are yours…I’ll severe ties with Adam Chase, and I’ll become YOUR All-Star! How‘s THAT for a gamble?
The microphone is flung down, but the second it collides with the canvas, it’s snatched by the grubby palm of Knight, reaching under the ropes and taking it into her possession. Knight then hops up onto the apron so that Gavin can see her and hear her clearly.
Knight: Some gamble, Gavin? Adam Chase is a sinking ship….everyone wants to jump off and drown rather than go down with him.
Gavin blows Knight off.
Knight: And in terms of making ‘gambles,’ to appease Drake…sorry…but Unity…we aren’t about to play Desmond’s game. If it means I don’t become Evolution Champion tonight, so be it…I don’t care…In fact, the only thing I care about right now…if beating you 1, 2, 3 in the center of this ring, Gavin. So you better get use to the idea of trading in your sugar daddy, for a sugar momma.
Knight throws aside the microphone along with any inhibition as she enters the ring and enters combat with the surly Taylor.
Susie: Another impromptu match….we’re getting it right now…I don’t even think Magic 8 Ball saw this one coming.
With Lohan and Haze still brawling with the masked army of track suit wearing baddies, beating them into the backstage area and Pearson doing the same…this match is just like it should be…right up the alley of Knight….going one on one…straight up with Taylor.
The action cuts to the ring, where although she does it with through gritted teeth, she holds out her hand for Gavin to shake it. Taylor just sneers at her, and points to her back, making it perfectly clear where his offence is going to be targeted. Knight just laughs, and backs off, the pair of them circling each other before tying up, Taylor quickly throwing Knight to the floor with his obvious superior strength. Knight holds the back of her head, but gets to her feet, still grinning
They tie up again in the ring, unaware that Johnny has revealed obvious homosexual tendencies, this time Gavin positioning her in the corner, the referee breaking it up with a five count. To Knights surprise however, Gavin breaks cleanly, backing off to the center of the ring. They go to tie up for a third time, but on this occasion Gavin grabs Yvonne by the wrist, going for the Irish Whip. But Knight reverses it, and sends Gavin into the ropes. Yvonne lies on the floor, Gavin skipping over her, and Knight then gets to her feet, Gavin body blocking her and sending her backwards into the strands. As she bounces back into the center of the ring Taylor scoops her up and plants her in the center of the ring, He then drops to one knee, and hooks her head, the referee moving in and checking for a choke. Satisfied he asks Knight if she wants to quit, which of course she says no, Taylor applying more pressure trying to cut off the blood stream to her brain
Susie: Gavin taking Yvonne to the mat and keeping her there
Dollar: And this is the perfect strategy for him, to keep her there so that she cannot use her speed…
Back in the ring Gavin has dragged Yvonne to her feet, and locks in an abdominal stretch, applying as much pressure as he possibly can. Eventually he releases her and viciously knees her in the stomach, and then again, forcing her back into the corner. He then whips her across the ring, Yvonne bouncing off the strands with a High Cross body, which Taylor ducks under, Knight crashing into the mat. Taylor then proceeds to bring his boot down on the back of Yvonne, really doing a number on her already injured back. He then picks her up, hooking her around the waist, before drilling her with a Snap Suplex. He picks her up again, once again hooking the waist, and then hitting the move again. He picks her up for a third time, but this time he lifts her up into a full suplex, holding her there for a few moments before driving her back into the canvas with a delayed vertical suplex, before going for a cover
1…
2…
Knight kicks out, Taylor grinning from here to ear as he picks her to her feet. He pushes her into the corner and hits a chops across her chest, and then another, following it up with a third. He then hooks her head, and steps up onto the first rope, falling backwards with a brutal DDT. He turns her over and applies another pin
1…
2…
Knight kicks out again to the fans delight, but she is visibly frustrated. Taylor picks her to her feet again and whips her across the ring, Gavin responding on her return with a Running Knee Lift, which takes Knight down again. Again Gavin goes for a pin fall
1…
2…
Another kick out from Yvonne Knight brings the fans to their feet, getting behind her in her efforts to somehow get into this match. Taylor bails her across the ring and to the outside, mocking the fans who cheer her
Susie: I have to say I am surprised by Gavin Taylor; he certainly looks like a man looking to make a point.
Gavin pushes Knight back, her spine hitting the steel barricades hard. He pulls her towards him and then sends her crashing into them again, not allowing her to fall into the crowd. He then lifts her up, dropping her spine first onto this barricade, before then dropping her onto his knee, allowing her to land on the arena floor. Taylor lifts his hands in delight, mocking the fans who give him stick from the outside. Yvonne tries to get up using the announce table, but Gavin just pushes her back to the floor, simply to try and make her look stupid. The referee gets to a seven count so Gavin rolls back into the ring, mocking Yvonne now in her efforts to get back inside. As she reaches the ring Gavin reaches through them, and drags her through, her feet balanced on the ropes
Susie: This gonna be bad.
Taylor lifts his arm in the air before hitting his version of a Diamond Cutter, planting Knights head into the canvas.
Susie: ST ELMO’S PLACE…What a cutter.
1…
2…
Kick out at two by Yvonne Knight, Taylor rubbing his chin and nodding his head, for the first time showing a bit of respect for Yvonne who is fighting for her life here. He climbs up onto the second rope, leaping from that position with an Elbow Drop, Knight rolling out the way just in time. Taylor isn’t hurt however and gets to his feet, as Yvonne attempts to get to hers. Taylor throws a punch which Knight gets out the way of, and she tries to retaliate with a kick to the mid-section but Taylor has read it, grabbing her foot. He smiles tapping his head, but that is all the time Knight needs to deliver an Enziguri kicks to the side of Taylor’s temple, sending him through the ropes and to the outside. The place erupts as Knight takes a breather on one knee in the center of the ring. Taylor is a little dazed, and Knight sees this, diving through the ropes with a Suicide Dive, both of them crashing into the arena floor and barricades. The fans are on their feet, cheering for Knights efforts here, the referee however is none plussed, and starts a ten count
1…
2…
Knight is surprisingly the first to stir, and begins to crawl back to the ring
3…
4…
5…
Taylor now starts to move, as Knight gets up on the canvas
6…
7…
Knight rolls into the ring to a massive ovation, and heads to a corner to try and get to her feet. Gavin crawling up the steps
Susie: Knight could win it by count out right here
8…
9…
Gavin rolls under the ropes, and is jumped immediately by Knight, driving her knee into the side of Taylors head. She picks him to his feet, hooking his head and drilling him with a Tornado DDT. She doesn’t hang around and helps him up again; whipping him across the canvas and taking him back down with a Jumping Leg Lariat across his throat.
Susie: Yvonne finally getting going, and now its Gavin Taylor searching for the answers.
Taylor tries to get out the ring to stop Yvonne’s momentum, but Yvonne grabs his foot. Taylor swings onto his back and kicks out with his other foot, but Yvonne catch that one as well, and steps through, hooking in the Jinx Effect Sharpshooter
Susie: He’s reaching for the ropes…he’s too far away
Taylor reaches for the strands but cannot reach them, the referee asking him if he wants to quit. Gavin shakes his head, pulling at his scalp whilst trying to edge closer
Taylor’s strength gets him closer and closer, till finally he manages to grab the rope, the referee counting to four before Knight Releases the hold. Gavin immediately slides out the ring to the outside, looking for a breather whilst holding his back. Yvonne isn’t going to give him a break however, and she slides through the ropes herself, spinning Gavin around and slapping him across the face
Susie: Oooo, bitch slap
Yvonne then shows her deceptive strength and lift Gavin up, dropping him with an Atomic Drop. She then drops him to the mat with a Side Kick which sends him backs and into the steel steps. Yvonne uses the steps, stepping up on them before somersaulting, dropping her leg across the throat of the prone Gavin Taylor. She then lifts him to his feet, bailing him back into the ring before heading up the turnbuckle, imploring Gavin to get to his feet
As Gavin gets to his feet Yvonne leaps from the turnbuckle, connecting with a Missile Dropkick which floors Gavin Taylor once again. This time Yvonne goes for a cover
1…
2…
No, kick out by Taylor at the last possible moment
Taylor crawls towards the ropes, the referee between him and Knight. With the referee unsighted Gavin lunges, a straight boot crashing into Knights groin, doubling her up in agony
Knight gets to her knees, as Taylor uses the turnbuckle to help him up. He bounces off the ropes, hitting a Shining Wizard to the side of Knight’s head
Susie: Oh my days…All-StarMaker…Yvonne is out of it
1…
2…
Noooooooooo, the referee signifies two, Yvonne getting her shoulder up at the very last possible millisecond. Taylor gets to his feet, looking to drag Knight to hers, but Yvonne rolls him up into a Schoolgirl
1…
2…
Taylor kicks out, Knight getting to her feet just in time to receive a thumb to the eye which temporarily blinds her, followed by a Swinging Neck Breaker, into a pin
1…
2…
No, kick out by Yvonne Knight yet again, Taylor sliding behind her and hooking in a Sleeper Hold
Susie: And now it looks like Yvonne is going bye-byes
Taylor applies as much pressure as he possibly can, Knight trying to fight and escape but the hold hooked in to tight. She loses consciousness and slumps to the mat, Gavin not releasing the hold but motioning to the referee she is out. The referee picks up Yvonne’s arm and holds it there, it dropping to the canvas hard
Susie: Told you…bye-byes. Wonder what she is dreaming about?
The referee picks her hand up again, and once more it falls to the canvas without any resistance at all.
Susie: I always dream of fluffy pink penguins
The referee moves in for a third time, the fans going absolutely crazy, willing Knight to resist. Gavin squeezes even harder, making sure there is no way back. The referee lifts the arm and holds it there for a second, allowing it to drop to the canvas for a third time, but no, the arm stops just short, Knight beginning to move, and try and escape. The fans are absolutely hysterical as she gets to her knees, and then to her feet, the adrenaline surging through her body. She drives an elbow into his mid-section, and then another, a third making Gavin releases the hold. He throws a punch which misses, Yvonne hitting a European Uppercut which rocks Gavin and drops him to one knee for a second. Knight then springs off the ropes, hitting Taylor with a Double Knee Face Breaker, before scrambling into a pin.
1…
2…
3…
The place erupts with cheers, until once more the referee puts up two fingers, and points to Gavin’s foot which is on the ropes. Yvonne stands up, holding the small of her back which is obviously troubling her. She climbs up to the top turnbuckle and leaps’, looking to hit a double Axe Handle, but Taylor drags the referee in the way, the referee taking the whole impact. Yvonne leans over the referee to make sure that he is ok, and whilst distracted Taylor slides out the ring, pulling the ring announcer from his chair
Susie: Taylor getting a chair and looking to be a big meanie…
He slides into the ring with the chair, Yvonne still tending to the referee. The crowd tries to scream a warning but it is too late, Taylor bringing the chair down on her back. Knight is stunned, but not for long, as Gavin takes the end of the chair, and drives that into the base of her spine, Knight slumping to the floor. He then places the chair overhead and makes his way to the top rope. With a mocking look over the crowd he leaps, bringing his leg down across the chair, risking his own body to finish the match. He stands, his leg obviously hurting, and slides the chair out to ringside. He then strolls over to the referee and shakes him, stirring him from his slumber
Susie: The referee saw nothing; Gavin Taylor has cheated his way to a victory here
Gavin drags the referee over to Knight who still isn’t moving, and then slides into position, hooking Yvonne’s leg. The referee begins to count, the fans making it clear what they think by booing and jeering.
1…
2…
It’s all over, Gavin Taylor sneaking a victory over Yvonne Knight, or at least that is what a huge proportion of the fans think anyway. However, the camera pans to Knight who has her arm raised and her shoulder up, Gavin Taylor face one of total disbelief that it was merely a two count, and he still hasn’t managed to win this match
Susie: Kick out. She’s a woman; pain is nothing, higher threshold…its science.
Gavin continues to remonstrate with the referee, threatening to lose it, whilst Knight uses the strands to help her up. Taylor see’s Yvonne coming to and pushes past the referee, looking to Clothesline her over the top rope. Knight however sees it coming, and ducks, pulling down on the top strand and allowing Taylor’s momentum to take him over the top and to the outside.
Susie: Oh, and we have a survival instinct as well, just like that.
Knight rolls out the ring her back obviously still hurting her, and picks Gavin to his feet, hooking him around the waist and going for a Suplex. Her back gives way however and she can’t do it, and she backs off, still holding her spine. Taylor runs in, looking to Clothesline her, even after missing before, Knight instinctively thrusts out her leg, kicking Taylor under the chin and putting him down. She again goes to the back, trying to ignore the pain which seems to be getting even worse. She picks Taylor up, and with some effort rolls him back into the ring. As she rolls in and gets up however it seems like her back spasms, and she holds onto the ropes for support.
Susie: They know what this match could mean to the winner, and neither of them wants to give this up. Yvonne’s back though could be the difference here
She then rushes at Taylor, who catches her and spins her around into a tilt a whirl back breaker. Knight reaches for her kidneys and screeches in pain as Gavin then lifts her up off of his knee then drops her with a side slam onto the canvas. He then hooks her leg.
1
2
Knight not only kicks out but rolls over backwards onto her feet, still reaching for her spine when Gavin turns and lunges in, wrapping his arms around her waist, applying a bear hug. He squeezes and squeezes until the ribs and the lower back feel like their in serious need of a chiropractor. She uses her hands not to tap but to begin throwing rights and lefts into the sides of Gavin’s head.
A frustrated Taylor stands up and then heaves Yvonne into the air for a belly to belly suplex only to have Knight catch him around the neck and try to apply a body vice at the same time. But Gavin won’t let her get those strong legs wrapped around his waist. He now throws her up into the air and Yvonne slips over his shoulder, landing behind him before lunging into the Black Magic. The Straight Jacket Sit-Out Sleeper Slam connects with enough force to knock Taylor clean out as Knight rolls into the cover, grabbing at her spine the whole time.
1
2
3
Susie: Oh my golly gee whillickers! Knight wins…she wins…she wins!
A flabbergasted Gavin kneels on the canvas, wondering where he could have gone so horribly awry…wondering how Knight…a new face on the IWC scene could have bested him…With sorrowful eyes he watches Knight sliding out of the ring and rejoicing as she heads up the ramp, having got her revenge and a major win here on pay-per-view.
Gavin’s sorrowful eyes are only focused on Knight for so long before they turn to the inbound masked faces of two MORE of Tabitha’s clients….both individuals sliding into the ring. The knelt Taylor is unable to put up much of a defense, lifting clinched fists towards the faces…the masked faces of these potential assailants. But a fight ISN’T what these two men had in mind…What they do have in store for Gavin are extended palms rather than clinched fists. Taylor looks confused…and understandably hesitant, but takes the open hands and allows the pair to aid him to his feet. They then pat him reassuringly on the back and gesture to the backstage area.
Susie: Hey…looks like Gavin is leaving with Tabitha’s clients….He’s sticking to his gamble.
With Tabitha’s clients acting as his shepherds, Gavin is led to the back to presumably meet with his new agent.
The walls absolutely tremble with excitement at the sight of Christian Savior…Rising Phoenix pacing in anticipation of perhaps the biggest match since IWC’s relaunch…a match literally eons in the making. The pacing Savior eyes the floor as he stoically works a groove into the carpet’s surface. He stops every time he reaches the steel chair holding a Singapore Cane….the very weapon he’ll have ample opportunity to crack over every inch of Orlando’s anatomy this evening…But something is nagging at him. Even though tonight should be one of the happiest of his career, given that he’ll be able to unleash unspeakable levels of torture on his long time nemesis, a particular thought festers inside of him…eating away at his…conscious?
Rose: It all comes down to this.
That just happened to be ONE of the thoughts racing and repeating through Christian’s mind…and to now hear it extracted from his brain and brought into the ethereal rather than the subconscious…jars the Rising Phoenix. He turns and finds the sight of his wife to be a very welcomed and soothing one.
Christian: It seems so.
Rose takes Christian’s hand into her own and rubs it against her cheek.
Rose: I know…you’ve been waiting a loooong time for this.
Christian: You’re right, you’re soooooo right.
The Singapore Cane is extracted from the surface of the chair and twirled to his side. He then squeezes the handle of the staff, testing its weight and its maneuverability until it becomes more an extension of his body than a foreign object.
Christian: You, and anyone not living in a subterranean keep feasting on the corpses of mountain goblins and playing riddle games to keep themselves entertained, would know that the issues between Orlando and I….go beyond personal. Our issues surpass the typical definition of the term…feud….This isn’t just a grudge, Rose, it’s much…much more than that.
Rose: I know sweety. It’s almost like you two are destined to wage war for an eternity.
Christian: He’s the Batman to my Joker…He’s the Professor Moriarty to my Sherlock Holmes…The two of us…we….
Rose:…complete each other.
Though it’s a platitude….one too closely associated with the Batman, Joker relationship Christian described…it’s nevertheless the truth.
Christian: I don’t know about that.
He denies it even though it’s so painfully obvious that Rose has hit the target right in the center.
Rose: Face it, Christian…Without Orlando Cruze as your foil, what else do you have?
The Rising Phoenix scoffs.
Rose: Yeah, you have me, Christian. You have our unique family….but in terms of wrestling….who else would you have to keep you in check, to keep you on your toes, to keep challenging you to be a better wrestler….a smarter and more crafty athlete….Like it or not, Orlando…he inspires you.
Christian: Come on now Rose, that’s a little….
Rose: Without Orlando here to drive you…you never would have been World Heavyweight Champion…He raised your game to a whole new level…He gave you purpose…He gave you…meaning.
Though he really doesn’t want to accept this as the truth, he knows that Rose speaks in cold, hard undeniable truths.
Rose: So if you were to go out there and destroy him….guess what? You would be lost. Like it or not…Orlando motivates you…he brings the absolute best of you…And I can’t be responsible for taking him away from you.
The cane slides out of Christian’s hands….Savior glaring down into his open palms with a look of disbelief.
Christian: Wait? What?
The staff is lowered along with Rose’s head, finding it difficult to stare back into the eyes of her husband.
Rose: You NEED Orlando.
Christian: No…what I NEED is this match against him…It’s just like I said last week, I HAVE to beat him.
<Rose: And one day, you WILL get that match, but not under these circumstances…not with our strings being pulled by that obnoxious imp. We’re being manipulated…playing into doing the bidding of Drake, of the Blacklist. They’re expecting us to go out there and cripple Orlando….and for Cruze to slow us down enough that we’re a total non factor in tonight’s World Title match…Well I’m sick…sick of being a puppet, Christian. I’m not about to go out there and perform in this match because I’m being FORCED to. And if I were you, I wouldn’t let Drake cheapen the match you’ve been asking for since the day the IWC re-opened its doors…the match you and Orlando are DESTINED to one day have….But today is NOT that day….
Christian: I have to disagree, strongly.
He doesn’t want to argue with Rose…..really doesn’t want to….but he also doesn’t want to face the truth of her comments.
Christian: Orlando and I need this match, Rose, I need to end him for what he did to you.
Rose: Which was?
He can think of a thousand things but is unable to name a single one of them.
Rose: Sure he had me attacked by Jackson Adams, and had me split your skull with that cane at the pay-per-view…crimes he’s GOING to pay for….when WE’VE decided its time for him to pay his penance…not when we’ve been manipulated into it….Not when the match is being used to ensure neither of us…or Cruze can interfere in the main event….
Christian: You’re letting Tay-Tay get into your head, Rose. You’re STILL being played like a puppet. As long as Orlando is around, you’ll NEVER get back the World Heavyweight Championship. He’s going to keep standing between you and the gold. I have to do something about him tonight…I HAVE TO…And you need your recompense…You NEED your retribution for what he had YOU do to ME….We’re not going to have a better opportunity than this Rose…a better shot to finally remove Orlando….To ensure that no one stands between you and the World Heavyweight Title.
The debate wages on and now that Christian has made his counter argument, Rose has seemingly been put in her place. She lowers a head into her palm…the only one not holding the cane.
Rose: I need to think, Christian. We NEED to be simpatico on this…okay? On the same page…So until we’ve BOTH made up our minds regarding what’s to be done about Orlando…I’m taking this with me…
Rose begins to walk off with the cane in hand before Christian reaches out to reclaim it.
Christian: Wait…what are you doing? Bring that back? Where are you going?
Rose: It’s for your own good, Christian, for your own protection.
Out of the room waltzes Rose, leaving Christian snipping at her heels, reaching for the cane desperately. The door slams in his face though, leaving Christian leaning with his forehead against its wooden surface, twisting slowly from side to side in maniacal manner. Someone equally as maniacal is the figure lurking undetected in the shadowy corner of the locker-room…positioned in the small space between two perpendicular rows of lockers….Hurse leans forward from his seat on the benches, watching this whole scene play out with his one good eye and a smile upon his face.
Ba’al: Dir haben sie wohl etwas in den Kaffee getan.
No….nobody is joking…this is not a laughing matter….Though many chuckles will probably follow once Ba’al has found his way into the very bathroom he was made aware of by the Black Crusade messengers. There are countless sinks…many stained tiles on the floor….and an endless row of stalls…there is no Leeland Gaunt, at least not out in the open.
Ba’al: Wenn der berg nicht zum Propheten kommt, muss der Prophet zum Berg kommen.
From behind his back the curved blade that menacingly encroached the throat of Mr. Hush, is withdrawn and extended to Ba’al’s side. He approaches the doors to each stall, slowly pushing them open to peer within. He searches each chamber, trying to determine rather Mr. Gaunt has hidden himself within either of these portals. He finally reaches the last door, one marked with the sign ’Out of Order.’ The grip on the blade tightens as he shoves the door open and instead of finding a broken toilet…discovers an elaborate set up…Planted on top of a the decommissioned toilet….is Silence….wearing a tattered top hat and pea green jacket. In front of her is a lavish tea set….planted on top of a tea table that seems to have been cracked down the middle, which happens when suplexing certain fanciful British wrestlers upon it.
She takes a sip from her tea acting completely unaware of Ba’al’s imposing presence.
Silence: Have you any ideas why a raven is like a writing desk?
To this Ba’al has no answer. Instead he merely lowers the blade to his side and leans against the door frame of the stall…enjoying the spectacle.
Ba’al: Where is Leeland Gaunt?
He’s growing wearisome of these games.
Silence: Well. The entire world is falling to ruins and poor Cheshire’s off his tea.
The blade raises back to striking position…but is now being employed to pick something from between his teeth.
Ba’al: I’ll ask again, shrew…where is Leeland Gaunt?
Silence: The Jabberwok with eyes aflame. Jaws that bait and claws that catch. Beware the Jabberwok, my son.
Ba’al: How quaint….Such frivolity…Such waste…
He approaches the Mad Silence, who sips tea in response to the terror who approaches with blade drawn.
Silence: Follow the white rabbit, yes…..good advice….follow him down the rabbit’s hole, you must. Then you will meet the Red King.
The razor sharp blade is quelled inches from Silence’s face….why….because she’s finally given over the next clue to tracking down Gaunt….A clue that manifests itself in the form of the excessively large rabbit that casts a shadow upon him. Ba’al turns to address the gelatinous Bob…wearing a pair of fluffy bunny ears and equally as fluffy bunny slippers.
Bob: Bob Rabbit is late, Bob Rabbit is late, for a very important date, no time to say Mnoose…Bob Rabbit late, Bob Rabbit late, Bob Rabbit late.
Ba’al inches away from the stall….and towards the blubbery Bob, who nervously darts about the bathroom, from one wall to the other.
Ba’al: Please lead on.
In true gentlemanly fashion, Ba’al opens the door and Bob Rabbit rushes through it…leading the Prince of Sin…presumably…to Leeland Gaunt. At that precise moment a door on the opposite end of the room flies open and in walks both Simon Cagero dragging along P Clarence Whitman III.
Whitman: How many times must I remind you, Mr. Cagero, I have a fear of public W.C’s.
Simon: Relax…we’re not here so you can drop the Cosby Kids off for a swim…
Whitman: Ohhhh…then what brings us here?
Simon: This….
The door to the stall is pushed ajar to reveal Silence seated within, still thoroughly in character.
Whitman: Merciful heavens….Not this barmy loon.
Simon: You want to find, Lois?
He nods in the affirmative.
Simon: Then she can help us.
Whitman: How did you even know she’d be here?
Simon: I followed the swarms of flies….
Silence: In my own defense…that’s thanks in large part to the mess Rose Savior left in the stall beside me.
Another sip of tea is taken with Silence mimicking the way that Clarence raised his pinkie finger when digested the delicious liquid a few weeks ago.
Silence: I presume the two of you are looking for Leeland as well?
Whitman: No…you witchy…witchy woman. We’re looking for Lois.
Silence: Ah. Well find Leeland and you will find Lois.
Aggravated doesn’t even begin to describe Whitman….patience totally and completely lost.
Whitman: Mr. Cagero, I don’t know how much longer I can tolerate this.
Simon: You go no other choice.
Whitman really wishes that wasn’t the truth, but sighs when he recognizes that it’s exactly that…the TRUTH.
Silence: I’ll tell the two of you whatever you wish to know once you’ve sat and shared a spot of tea with me.
Cagero visually measures the parameters of the stall.
Simon: Yeah, I don’t know if we’ll fit…
Simon: I said SIT!
A porcelain tea cup is shattered against the wall.
Simon: Alright, alright, we’re sitting, we’re sitting.
Whitman: Not on this floor.
The stall door begins to close behind Whitman’s back as the tea is poured for three.
<img src=http://i413.photobucket.com/albums/pp220/Hurse/backstageante.png
When one door shuts…another opens…The door leading to the locker-room comes ajar just as Orlando Cruze steps through it. He pulls said door shut behind his back and lingers in the hall….the hall that only seems to get longer and longer with every passing moment. But he’s not looking down that corridor…one that brings him ultimately to the ring where he will compete in undoubtedly the biggest match since IWC’s rebirth…Instead his eyes are upturned to the ceiling….contemplating what brought him to this moment and forcing a sigh to clear his mind and his conscious.
At last he takes off…embarking towards the ring where his long gestating feud with the Saviors prepares to turn into full fledged infection.
Though the camera begins to track him towards the ring…it’s attention is captured by something else…the door Orlando just exited swings open and out steps Broderick Chase. He’s not pompous…he’s not arrogant…he’s rather unemotional in all regards….Once the door shuts behind him, Broderick looks up to the ceiling and sighs in Cruze fashion.
Another individual equally as consumed with thought is Rose Savior…who’s each step seems to contain the weight of the whole world….Pressure pushes down on her, drawing her closer to the ground as she steps through the corridor on her way to the ring…looking as if she’s going through with tonight’s handicap match after-all. A decision has been reached…and it might be one she’s wholly on board with, but it’s a decision she’ll have to live with nevertheless.
And speaking of decisions she has to live with….
Robin: Hi there, Rosey…remember me?
Robin Brooks hops around the corner of a hall running adjacent to the one that Savior is currently strolling down, blocking her path to the ring.
Rose: Like I could forget….I’ve got no time for you, Robin…
Robin: Awww…well might I suggest you MAKE some time.
Menace transforms her tone….speaking with vile rather than frivolity. The change in her disposition coincides with the punch delivered to the back of Rose’s head, knocking her to her elbows and knees. With his fist wrapped by the steel cuff Rose refused to lock around Taylor’s wrists earlier tonight, Hurse steps to the Queen of Thorns’ side and stoops forward.
Hurse: Guess we have to show you how these work.
The handcuffs bind Savior’s wrists just before she can rise to her knees and scream obscenities.
Rose: You don’t put a hand on me….
A kick is delivered right to her temple by Brooks, knocking Rose onto her back. The Singapore Cane she dropped to the concrete is swooped up into the arms of Hurse, who admires it and tests its dexterity.
Hurse: Thanks for the gift, Rose.
“In the House in a Heartbeat” plays through the PA system and the Icon moves through the curtains, warmed up for what should be a red hot bout tonight. Actually, the heat between Cruze and the Saviors is down right levels of molting magma hot…and the flames are about to seer more than just one victim. Orlando steps down the ramp and slaps a few outstretched hands, still trying to embody the image of the Icon that all these fans have so long believed in. Though he’s got so much on his mind, including THIS sure to be barbaric bout….He’s also got the proposal of Aaron Harrison weighing on his mind…Keeping him from retaining his focus on this bout.
Susie: And Lando Cruzian is here for Pinata fest 2013…I swear, there better be candy this time, or so help me…But anywho. Orlando about to fight the Saviors in a handicap match where whooping sticks are legal. And we’ve seen those whooping sticks play such a big role over the past few months in regards to the rivalry between Orlando and the Saviors. Like when Orlando had Rose beat her own husband with the cane at the last pay-per-view…then booked Rose in the first Singapore Canes are legal match against Aaron Harrison…then Rose used the cane to turn Hawkeye all evil and get him to work for the Chitauri….Then Orlando employed the cane to keep the Belrog from passing over the land bridge….Then….
The many canes hanging from the turnbuckles are closely scrutinized by the Icon….well aware that he’s about to put them to use against Christian and Rose…two forces who have long been waiting and yearning to crush him. He needs to center himself, he needs to prepare himself, he needs to focus, but is having all kinds of trouble doing just that…Well…at least up until the opening rift of Christian Savior’s entrance music plays through the PA system, and the Rising Phoenix shortly thereafter rips through the curtains. Though Rose’s comments resonated with him on a number of levels…all rationale….all better judgment lapses when squaring down the Icon….the man who has put the Savior’s through so much in the span of such a short period of time.
Susie: Orlando had Christian beaten with the cane several weeks ago…making him pretty darn angry….But then we thought the two were starting to get on the same page before ownership of the World Championship created another rift between them. Orlando hit Rose with the cane just last week in an attempt to get back the World Title…and then it was used by Saruman to overpower Gandalf at Orthanc….
Before the revisionist history of the cane-as it relates to its involvement in this feud-can be rehashed, Savior slides into the ring and wastes absolutely no time. There is absolutely no filling out process, or hesitance so that Rose can reach the ring, Christian wrapping his fists around Orlando’s face and doing so with a brimming intensity. Punch after punch after punch collides with Orlando’s jaw and cheek, staggering him backwards. But Orlando will not be some helpless victim, fighting back against the Rising Phoenix with punches of his own.
Susie: And here we go…this has been so incredibly long in the making…Orlando and Christian absolutely hate each other…and have hated one another for as long as I can remember…which is up to about five minutes ago.
But the crowd has a much, much longer history than Susie, vividly recalling the violence between Icon and Rising Phoenix, the Bluegrass Bloodbaths, the Steel Cage Eliminations, the multiple wars for the World Heavyweight Championship. Now they right a new chapter in the book of blood.
And it might not take too long for blood to literally spill as Savior throws a closed fist into the face of Orlando, attempting to bust him right open. But the Icon reacts without hesitance to deliver the European Uppercut that rocks Christian’s jaw, almost fracturing it. Christian staggers back and then Orlando moves in and chops him across the chest….before doing it a second time…then a third.
He moves in for the fourth and final shot but Christian catches him by the arm, swings around under it and then drags Orlando forward by his clutched wrist into a front chancery. He instantly grabs the back of Orlando’s trunks, elevating him up into the implant DDT…But Cruze drops back to his feet just before it can connect and then reaches out, hooking the creases of Christian’s knees. He pulls them up into the air and the Phoenix falls to his back with Orlando trying to step through in order to get the sharpshooter locked in.
Even though it’s been eons since the last time the two fought in the middle of the ring…they still can reach each other like open books. Hence why Christian rolls back right out of the sharpshooter to his knees, wedges hands to Orlando’s stomach and shoves him backwards across the ring.
The Icon spins to the center and turns just as Christian comes racing in for the spear to end this match…But a well timed boot to the chest prevents just that…There will be no Bloodline Spear…but there might just be a Rock Bottom.
Orlando stands, shoots an arm across Christian’s chest and grabs the back of his tights, about to heave him up and drive him down.
Susie: Back and forth…back and forth…back and forth…is anyone going to use the cane already? I want my damned candy!
Orlando heaves Christian up into the air to drive him down when Savior twists his body in mid-air, wrapping his legs around Cruze’s waist and then falling forward. He rolls Orlando up, sitting on Cruze’s chest and holding down on the creases of his knees…leading to a potential pinfall…but a pin is NOT what Christian came here for tonight. He’s here to end this…to finish his war with Orlando once and for all. Hence why Christian stands, swings around the legs and begins to step through them as he is on the verge of locking in his OWN sharpshooter….or at least a variant of it.
And unlike Orlando, he’s able to turn his opponent over and get hold locked in…Wait…no…Orlando KEEPS rolling right over…all the way over to his back. Christian is forced to face Cruze, who bends his knees just enough to drag Savior down, catch him around the neck and pull him over into the small package.
But Christian squirms free before official Alex Ingelson can even think about making the count. Not only does he kick out but he turns and drops to his stomach at Orlando’s side, something that DEFINITELY does not work to the Phoenix’s benefit. Orlando grabs Christian’s arm, stretches it to his side, steps around it and then leaps over Savior’s back, catching him by the shoulder and thigh in the process.
Savior is pulled over into the magisterial cradle…trying to make quick work of Christian before Rose can even reach the ring. But Ingelson will not make the count…not until all parties have been sworn in..sort of speak. He shouts as much at Orlando, who breaks the pin in favor of standing up, stepping through Christian’s legs and rolling him over to his stomach into the sharpshooter.
Savior gets to his elbows and while grimacing painfully, begins to crawl towards the ropes, refusing to be bested….not by the man he’s waited THIS long to get in that ring. He eventually reaches out for the bottom rope but Orlando drags him back to the center of the ring and stoops down onto the small of the back…really mangling the kidneys and the legs of his opposition.
Susie: This match might be shorter than Desmond Drake.
The pain is positively agonizing, Christian trying not to even think about tapping, but the more torque Cruze puts on the hold…the harder it becomes to block the thought from entering his head. He painstakingly begins to pull himself across the ring towards those ropes for as second time….reaching out for them just when he hears music to his ears…literally…Rose Savior’s theme drawls a huge response from the fans, who eagerly turn their sights to the stage.
Susie: Here comes Rose….Who just went and got a total butch hair cut.
Why does her hair look so butch…because it’s not HER hair….Hurse races down the ramp with a Singapore Cane in his palms.
Susie: Oh wait…it’s Paul Burchill in al his swashbuckling magnificence.
With cane in hand Hurse stops directly beside the ring, extending it under the ropes…offering it to Christian. Savior doesn’t have time to think about it…he just reacts, taking the weapon out of Hurse’s palms and then turning just enough to swing the staff into the back of Orlando’s thigh, and then to his knee. The shots cause Orlando to lose his balance. He falls to a knee and TRIES to keep the sharpshooter locked in still…but another shot from the cane between the shoulder blades puts the kibosh on this plans.
Orlando drops to his elbows and knees while Christian struggles to his feet behind him. He then swings the staff right down into the upper back of Orlando, causing him to twist and writhe as he falls to the canvas. Before Christian can do further damage to Orlando with the weapon that has been so instrumental in the hostilities between the Icon and the Rising Phoenix, Christian turns to address Hurse lingering at ringside.
Christian: Where’s Rose?
Hurse thinks quickly….trying to cover his own ass.
Hurse: She said she couldn’t in good conscious go through with this…but wouldn’t dream denying you and I the opportunity to get our revenge on Orlando.
Though skeptical Christian can’t pass up the opportunity to pummel Orlando…bringing the cane down into his ribs. He then lifts the cane up high and extends Orlando’s arm out over the canvas, about to slap him over the bicep.
But Orlando turns just enough to grab the foot wedging his wrist in place. He pulls up on it, causing Orlando to hop up and down as he tries to fight his way out of this predicament. He still has the cane in his clutches as Orlando gets to his feet in front of him, holding one of his nemesis’ ankles still in his clutches. Christian then swings the cane at Orlando’s head in an attempt to save himself…but the Icon ducks at the last second.
He stands upright only to duck down again….avoiding another swipe from the cane that narrowly misses it noggin. Orlando then stands up a third time and avoids yet another swipe from the cane. Orlando finally pushes down on the foot, sending Savior into a full spin, eventually turning back towards his adversary, who catches him by the back of his knees…still desperate to end this match and end it quickly.
But Christian then takes the cane across his palms, and pulls it down over the small of Orlando’s back, dropping him to his knees. He reaches for his kidneys while Christian steps back, holding the weapon tightly and ultimately rushing in to cave in the skull of the mother of all nemeses. But Cruze suddenly stands up, catching the inbound Savior’s ribs to his shoulder, standing up, turning and driving him down into the canvas with a double A style spine buster.
Unfortunately Orlando is not able to follow up on the pin, resting on his elbows and knees, feeling the ill effects of the multiple shots with that Singapore Cane.
Susie: Everything starting to take its toll on the poor, fragile and extra shiny head of Orlando Cruze…I wonder if I rub it and ask it questions if it’ll be anymore informative than you, Magic 8 Ball?…..Without a doubt…Good, I’m glad we continue to see eye to eye.
Orlando avails himself that he’s going to have to fight fire with fire…or cane with cane. He crawls sluggishly across the ring in the direction of one of two canes hanging from diagonal corners, when Hurse leaps up to the apron and grabs the weapon he was headed for, ripping it right off the turnbuckle before Orlando could so much as put a finger on it.
Hurse lifts the cane high above his head with a gigantic grin on his face as Orlando gives him the type of look that could cause hair to instantly turn gray. Hurse then makes several motions as if he’s going to strike Orlando with the staff but fails to get so much as a flinch out of his rival.
Rose: Get me out of these thing! Come on….come on!
The very two police officers seen at the start of tonight’s telecast who are tasked with handling the cuffing duties on Taylor Chase….are now doing the opposite….UNCUFFING Rose’s wrists. She is kneeling on the concrete before them…still unable to move to her feet after that damaging blow to the back of her skull from the very cuffs that bind her wrists.
Rose: Hurry….
They finally seem to come across a set of keys that work, fitting into the cuffs…on the brink of unlatching Savior when…
HOLD IT!
It looks as if Rose just saw someone squish a kitten with the bottom of their boot, and is apparently not into foot fetish. Into her view steps Desmond Drake, his inflated head taking much of the screen.
Drake: Gentlemen, keep those cuffs exactly where they are.
As if Rose couldn’t possibly be anymore disgusted.
Drake: What a predicament your in here, Rose…
He states while rubbing his fingers together to dig some gunk from beneath his nail.
Drake: Stuck in those handcuffs while your husband is being pounded…ever so viciously in the ring…by a man who will not rest until he has destroyed the entire Savior lineage. And here you are, the one person who can save Christian, all tied up…It’s a shame really….That you would leave your husband so defenseless.
Rose: What is it you want you little fre….?
Drake: Now…now…Rose…I know you’re a little upset because you realize that you could have had me and instead you married that greasy muppet getting his ass handed to him by Orlando…but there’s no need for vulgarities. Actually, the only thing there is just cause for at the moment, is a kiss….
Okay now a whole kitten of litters must have been ritualistically stomped to death before the eyes of the former World Heavyweight Champion.
Drake: If you want out of those cuffs….you’ll put those lips, right here!
He gestures to the pouting lips.
Drake: Come on…bring em on over…Give me a big fat wet one….have your socks blown off…and then I’ll let the cops unshackle you….my love.
Rose: I would rather gag on my own vomit.
Drake: Don’t play coy with me, Rose. You hard angels singing, you saw stars the moment we hugged all those weeks ago. You…like me…felt something truly, truly special. Now embrace those feelings, kiss me.
Rose: I would rather kiss Louie Anderson after he just got done eating an entire baguette of garlic bread.
Patience is no longer a virtue that Drake has the liberty of exploiting.
Drake: You OWE me a kiss, Rose.
Rose: Excuse me?
Drake: I put this Singapore Cane match together for you…For you to get your revenge on Orlando…I have his lover being forced to compete with hands cuffed behind her back against the Blacklist, just like Orlando had YOUR lover forced to compete with hands shackled behind his back against the Black Crusade. So after all these sacrifices…after all these oh so tender mercies…you owe me that kiss…Pucker up BABY!
The lips protrude so far from Desmond’s face that they almost float off his skin, sprout cartoony wings and flap their way to Rose’s cheek. And instead of exuding that expression of repulsion normally saved from one suffering food poisoning, she channels all of her acting classes to instead emote feelings of compassion.
Rose: You’re right, Dessie, you’re so right…
Drake’s eyes open and his puckered lips transform into face stretching grin.
Drake: Am I now?
Rose: You’ve done so much for me, Dessie, and…and…it’s only right for me to repay the kindness you’ve shown to me.
Drake: Fabulous.
Desmond’s grin couldn’t get any bigger even with plastic surgery.
Rose: But kissing you will be a little cumbersome with these cuffs. I can’t get very passionate with you when my wrists are trapped.
Drake: A problem easily solved love….
Fingers snap in the direction of the officers prompting them to finally do something more than stand there like a bunch of stone faced golems. Keys slip into the cuffs and free Rose’s wrists. She pulls them before her face and rubs at the scratchy red indentation left in her flesh. But another irritation remains in front of Rose, smelling his breath by breathing into his palm.
Drake: Okay my love…prepare for a kiss that will make you positively soil your panties.
Rose: Oh my….
She fans her face as if suffering a sudden case of the vapors.
Rose: You sure do know how to sweet talk the ladies.
Drake: I’ll do more than just sweet talk you. But enough gabbing…let’s start groping.
The lips once again approach Rose like a serial killer methodically stalking their virtuous prey. And just like in all those slasher films…the cold-blooded killer never gets the girl….Just as Drake’s lips are within inches of Rose’s face, a finger…rather than Savior’s mouth…connects with Desmond’s flesh.
Rose: Wait…Dessie…I thought of something you COULD do that would actually excite me.
Desmond’s eyebrows arch and his grin widens.
Rose: You can bleed.
An open hand palm slaps Drake’s cheek with enough force to send him to his seat. The moment his back hits the floor, Desmond is scooting across it with a look of a man who just saw the entire Cenobite army closing in upon him. But there’s only one woman with a fetish for his destruction that nears…and Rose is all it takes.
Savior steps towards Desmond, finally having the man who has somehow shrank even more when faced with the imposing figure that is the vengeful spirit. But even though Rose could rip the man to pieces, she walks past him….having only enough time at the moment to punish one of her rivals…one of the men she deems responsible for the loss of her gold. In the process she leaves behind a whimpering, tear shedding Desmond.
Orlando has finally turned away from Hurse to keep his focus on Christian, nailing him with stomp after stomp to his chest as he sits in the corner. Christian is unable to defend himself against these numerous blows delivered in such rapid fire fashion…the Icon intent on doing as much damage as possible…even if it means fracturing the sternum of his adversary in the process.
To everyone’s shock Christian actually begins to rise…with each stomp…with each closed fist…Christian seems to become more and more powerful. Instead of being downtrodden, he’s motivated by the succession of strikes delivered by a puzzled Orlando.
A European Uppercut is even employed but STILL Savior is inching closer and closer to his feet. Once upright, Christian does something Orlando deemed inconceivable, he grins…grins right into the face of the devil.
Cruze removes that smile with a forearm to the jaw…followed by one of the roaring variety. But Savior ducks at the last second, swinging around behind Orlando and waiting for him to pull an about face. And ultimately it’s Cruze’s face that is turned about…or inside out…when he spins around and eats a right hand from Savior, followed by another and another…getting not just a second helping, but thirds and fourths.
Christian then takes Orlando by the wrist and whips him off across the ring but Orlando puts on the breaks. He turns around in the center of the ring to face Christian then drags him forward into a gorilla press. The crowd is stunned at the feat of strength displayed by the Icon, who holds Savior high…high above his head…about to throw him half way into the stands if necessary, but Christian slides right off the palms before any of that could happen…continuing to disrupt the well laid thought out plans of the Icon.
He drops down right behind Orlando, who turns directly into the thrust kick right to the jaw. The shot is so stiff it sends Orlando not off of his feet…but staggering right back into the ropes…where his arms are caught from behind…by Hurse of all people.
Susie: Leave him be, Hurse, Orlando didn’t steal your booty….Not that you even had a booty to begin with….Seeing as you’re the quintessential white guy.
The fans are all over Hurse just like he’s all over Orlando, actually using the cane to slide around in front of Orlando’s arms and pin them behind his back.
Hurse: Come on Christian…come on….finish him!
Savior doesn’t care about the influence of Hurse….he just sees an open target, one sprayed right on the ribs of a man he hates more than anything in this life…possibly even broccoli.
Therefore he bends down and rushes right at those ribs…diving into the abs of the Icon with a spear…But it’s a different set of intestines that become unlinked by the spear…Hurse taking all of it…the full force of the Bloodline Spear that sends him flying off the apron and crashing to the mats.
Not only did Orlando side step the spear, breaking free from Hurse’s clutches in the process, but he grabbed hold of the cane Steven was using to hold him in place. Which is about as good for Christian as a 24/7 marathon of Pretty Little Liars. He turns around and has the cane swung into the very shoulder that was about to hit the spear. But Orlando isn’t just hitting that particular shoulder for the sake of inflicting damage, he’s targeting the arm to keep Christian from EVER hitting a spear again.
Orlando then takes Christian’s arm and folds it around behind his back in a hammerlock, but uses the cane to hold him in place. He then grips the top and bottom of the cane before wrenching it forward several times, repeatedly twisting Savior’s arm in a very ghastly fashion.
Christian almost falls forward, but Orlando keeps hold of both ends of the cane, then uses it to charge him across the ring and throw Savior down shoulder first into the second turnbuckle pad.
Savior doesn’t just bounce off…he bounces off hard, then goes staggering backwards into Orlando, who takes the cane, sticks it between Christian’s legs and over top of the thigh. He then lifts up on the cane which is wedged to Savior’s testicles, slamming him down into a back suplex.
Susie: Uh-oh….Christina might be peeing splinters for a while.
Orlando stands up with the cane still in his clutches and evil intent in his mind. He stands up over top of the laid out Christian and then grabs his legs, stretching them out to both of his sides, leaving him spread eagle on the canvas and his genitals entirely exposed to the cane assisted castration that will follow.
The cane slowly raises above Orlando head, about to be driven into Christian’s testicles with enough force to ensure he never sires any offspring. But before he can put an end to the Savior family tree before it adds a few limbs….it’s one of HIS limbs that are grabbed and almost snapped. He was so consumed with hurting Christian, that he didn’t even notice Rose sliding into the ring behind him….not until it’s too late.
Susie: There she is…there’s Christian’s savior….Wow…oh wow…did anyone just what I intentionally did there? That was awesome…that was the best slip of the tongue since my uncle showed me what that term means.
The moment Orlando spins around is a moment he’ll no doubt regret for the rest of his life…because it takes only a moment for Rose to go airborne, catching Cruze around the neck and plucking him down to the canvas into the Black Rose.
Orlando’s face collides with the canvas to bone fracturing impact, causing him to flop over to his back, looking dead to rights.
Susie: There goes Orlando’s nose….It’s probably lodged in his anus about right now.
The whiplash from the cutter sends Orlando flopping to his back, stretched in a prone state…a state prone enough for Christian to take advantage…he crawls in and falls over Orlando’s sternum. The fans and Rose BOTH watch intently as the official drops into position…about to make the count.
1
2
Rose suddenly grabs the official’s hand, keeping Ingelson from making the decision.
Susie: Kinda hard to win the match when you’re trying to play patty cake with the official, Rose…There’s always a time and a place for patty cake…but here and now isn’t that time, isn’t that place.
An agonized Christian rises to a knee and turns with betrayed eyes to Rose…but the betrayal…turns to belief…belief in Rose’s motives.
Rose: No…this is yours Christian…this is yours.
She refuses to be the woman who ended Orlando…leaving that distinction to the man who TRULY deserves the honor, her husband, and her most stalwart supporter. Christian can definitely support his wife’s decision this time, no arguing needed, as he rises to his feet, pulling Orlando along with him. The Icon is upright albeit stooped forward in the front chancery. He grabs the back of Cruze’s trunks and heaves him up before ultimately dumping him square on his skull with an implant DDT.
Orlando’s head leaves an indentation in the canvas, and the DDT leaves a permanent indentation on his mind. The pain from the DDT and the shots from the cane, have caused Orlando to begin resolving himself to defeat. He now lays on his back, ready for the pin, but the Saviors have NEVER given into his demands. Instead they continue to stand in opposition to Orlando’s desires, evident as Christian picks up one of the Singapore Canes, and then throws it to Rose. She catches it but doesn’t want it…not until she realizes that Christian has a cane of his own and stands on the opposite side of the Icon.
Christian: You can consider this our date night.
Rose smiles…finally seeing Christian enjoy himself for the first time in as long as she can remember. The smile on Savior’s face widens as he brings the cane down across Orlando’s ribs. Cruze curls into a fetal position before Savior slams the cane over his shoulder. Orlando flops around as Christian then brings the cane down over his knee, almost shattering the tibia.
Susie: Christian’s getting a heck of a tune out of Orlando’s body. He makes a great drum set as Savior goes all Lars Ulrich on him….Wait…where did that name just from? Isn’t Lars Ulrich the killer in Scream?
Though Christian is having a blast with each bash of cane to flesh, he notices Rose isn’t joining in. Not from a lack of trying. She attempts to step in and cave in Orlando’s anatomy with the cane but for some reason she just can’t. Every time she’s about to pulverize the Icon….she sees that same haunting image that kept her from destroying Harrison a few weeks ago….The image of Christian kneeling in the ring, begging her to beat him with the cane.
It causes her to not only hesitate but to stop….stop entirely…just unable to bring herself to do it. So she lowers her cane and pretends not to be cramping Christian’s style.
The Rising Phoenix falls to his seat beside the Icon, wedging the cane across his throat and shoving down on it until Orlando’s head is almost turned into a pop top. Orlando’s eyes are popping out of his head like Cohaagen exposed to the surface of Mars. His face is so red you would think he were a soiled tampon during that time of the month. He breaths like an asthmatic inhaling pet dander while smoking a carton of cigarettes.
Finally, just before Orlando could pass out, Christian rolls back and allows the Icon to start his way up. This is all a very cruel twist, considering that he’s letting Orlando stand up only to exhaust himself, and to give him the false impression that he has hope…which he doesn’t.
Cruze just barely gets his knees under him when Christian swoops in behind his back, straddles his spine and then places the cane across Orlando’s mouth, pulling back with all his strength. Orlando feels like a zombie in a pit with the Governor, about to have his head cracked in two by the cane being yanked backwards by a roaring Phoenix.
Christian: You brought this on yourself, Orlando….you brought this all on yourself!
True…this was one bed of flaming hot fire pokers that Orlando prepared for himself. But what Christian brought on himself was a counter….a counter from his rival. Christian grabs the cane wedged between his teeth and then falls forward, flipping Savior over his head.
Christian drops into a forward roll and ends up on his feet, turning as Orlando rushes at him with the cane being swung. At the last second the Phoenix crouches, avoiding the cane shot and causing it to travel towards the face of Rose, who took residence behind her man. Just before she can be added to the list of the cane’s victims, Rose gets her foot up into Orlando’s ribs, doubling him over and almost forcing him to drop the weapon….almost.
Rose gets a running start to do damage to Orlando’s front, while Christian rushes in from behind to do damage to the back. Just before he can be sandwiched between the Saviors, Orlando drops down and lifts the cane into the air, causing one end to catch Rose in the ribs, and the other to hit Christian’s stomach. The cane has little give as its caught between both Christian and Rose’s rib-cages. The two bend forward after having the air knocked out of their lungs, catching the cane between their palms and lowering it down to the canvas before their sunken faces. They just fall against one another shoulders to hold themselves up when Orlando steps in and delivers a kick to the cane between their hands, sending it flying right up into their faces.
Susie: I’ve never seen a cane used like that before…maybe once in Bangkok…but it didn’t end up in someone’s face…another orifice perhaps…but not a face.
Christian and Rose look brain-dead as they stagger around, turning right into Orlando’s arms, catching them BOTH against his shoulders. To the absolute astonishment of everyone, Cruze shows remarkable strength by hoisting both Saviors into the air and then dropping them with a double spine buster.
Susie; Oh wow…didn’t even think something like that was possible. I thought it was just one of those made-up monsters…like the Boogeyman…or Dick Chaney.
The fight has been knocked out of both Christian and Rose alike…the Saviors writhing across the canvas. But they don’t know the meaning of the word, ’writhing’ just yet. Cause real pain comes when Orlando grabs Rose’s legs, and flips over on top of Christian…a joke about her being on top of her husband would probably be inserted here…but the action is too hectic to give time for said jokes….Orlando steps over the BACKS of both opponents, grabbing not two, but four legs…heaving them all up into a double lion tamer.
Christian shoves himself up off of the canvas and in the process pushes Rose into the air as well considering that she’s on top of his back. It takes everything Christian has in him to begin willing his body towards the ropes…ropes so…so far away….If its not bad enough that Christian has to pull his OWN weight into the ropes…but he has to drag Rose’s weight along with him…AND Orlando’s…all while trapped in the lion tamer…all while fighting the urge to tap out. An urge that becomes increasingly difficult to deny.
Eventually it becomes too much for him, all the pain and pressure causing him to collapse to his chest while lifting his palm up into the air. Christian is about to slap the canvas when Rose regains her senses long enough to grab her husband’s wrist, keeping him from tapping out. Christian TRIES to bring his palm down to the ring but Rose won’t let him do it.
Susie: This is the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen…which is saying a lot considering that this is the IWC.
In spite of the pain coursing through her own body, Rose is giving an inspirational speech to her husband…reminding him just how big this match is…This renews Christian’s vigor, pushing himself back up and fueling him to crawl towards the ring. He then reaches out and grabs the bottom rope…overcoming all the pain and all the weight on his back.
The referee doesn’t even have to start a five count before Orlando despondently breaks the double lion-tamer…falling to his knees in the middle of the ring in the process. He tries to overcome all the trauma inflicted on his own body just to reach his feet. He gets up just over top of a cane that he fumbles around in his clutches.
Rose and Christian help one another to their feet when Orlando steps up behind them and extends the cane across both their throats. He then employs his incredible strength to heave both Saviors into the air by their jaws, delivering almost a choking giant swing, and then unleashing them in order to throw the pair across the ring. Christian and Rose twist out to Orlando’s sides and eventually collide with the canvas while their nemesis falls against the ropes, using them as his only means of support.
He spots Christian standing up first, prompting Orlando to step in, take the cane and wrap it around the back of his head before employing the weapon to snap mare his adversary. Christian comes down to his back while Orlando then steps up behind the crouching Rose. She just got to her feet, with her back unwisely turned on the Icon, who predictably takes advantage. He backs Rose up, sits her on top of the seated Christian’s shoulders and then wraps his leg around Rose’s shin, and Christian’s bicep. He then places the cane across Rose’s neck before dropping back, delivering a Russian Leg Sweep that brings both Saviors down to the canvas….But Rose seems to get the worse of it, considering she was the one with the cane wedged against her throat.
Susie: Did anyone see this match going this way? Orlando is actually dominating the Saviors at this point…and finding some creative uses for that sodomy stick.
Orlando floats over after hitting the leg sweep that took BOTH Saviors out and now ends up stretched across Rose’s sternum, forearm wedged against her face for the pin.
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Ingelson’s hand doesn’t make it to the canvas a third time considering that Christian has managed to sit up and grab Orlando’s wrist, pulling him off of the pin. He then reaches out and grabs the cane sitting on the canvas and places it across Orlando’s throat, wrenching back into a crossface…..Not just a crossface though…a crossface with the cane.
Susie: Orlando about to be turned into a human pez dispenser…and I STILL probably won’t get candy out of it.
Amazingly the tide has changed so quickly with Orlando suffering a submission aided by the cane and at the clutches of a remorseless Christian….at least having no remorse when it comes to the Icon.
Orlando wedges his hands to the canvas, shoving himself up off of the ring…not across it…No, he’s standing up, and in the process heaving Savior into the air beside him. Christian still has the crossface locked in with the cane, even as he’s being lifted into the air. He now dangles out to Orlando’s side trying to hold onto the crossface but Orlando turns and drops him right into a side slam of sorts directly on top of the still laid out Rose!
Both Christian and Rose writhe across the canvas, grabbing at their mangled bodies while Orlando takes a moment to convalesce.
Susie: So much for that. Orlando is just so powerful. I bet one of his biceps probably has twelve more biceps trying to pop out of it.
Speaking of pop, that’s exactly what Orlando gets when he picks up a cane and leans with all his weight upon it, turning the weapon into a walking staff. He then turns and lifts the cane above his head before bringing it down simultaneously over the ribs of Christian and Rose as they lie side by side.
He then lifts the cane and drives it down over both of his opponents’ ribs once more, inflicting untold levels of damage. He then drops down across the chests of both Christian and Rose and uses the cane to hook the creases of their knees.
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Christian and Rose simultaneously kick out, dashing Orlando’s hopes of finally putting the Saviors in his past. He sits up with sweat dropping off of his banged up body….his bruised muscles…his worn tissue…his failing bones. The Icon stands up with every bit of his anatomy weighing a metric ton. Once on his feet he falls back into one of the turnbuckles and then lifts his foot before ever so dramatically drawing it back down to the canvas
Susie: Is Orlando trying to squash grapes…he better make sure he doesn’t fall out of the mixing vat…because then he’d sit there and cry hysterically for twenty minutes.
Orlando drops his foot again…the super kick obviously on his mind…and about to literally e on the mind of either Rose or Christian. The two stand up simultaneously, supporting each other in a more figurative fashion. They then turn just as Orlando darts forward into the super kick that MISSES because Christian and Rose simultaneously shove away from one another. This causes Orlando’s boot to fly right between their bodies and his own physique to go twisting into the cables. He then comes staggering back towards Christian who delivers a big running knee to the Icon’s ribs, flipping him over and causing him to land on his seat while gripping his battered ribs.
At the exact moment that his seat hit’s the canvas, Rose’s knee hits his face…Savior charging into the lethal knee strike heard all around the world. Cruze collapses to his back and now Christian takes one of the weapons, places it long ways down the back of his thigh and knee and uses it to deliver a cane assisted leg drop right across Orlando’s throat.
Orlando rolls across the canvas grabbing at his throat and then grabbing at the ropes….employing them to reach his feet. That’s when Rose leaps into the air and delivers a dropkick between Orlando’s shoulder blades. The kick sends Orlando’s chest into the top rope, causing him to ricochet off and stagger back into the Rising Phoenix, who goes airborne. He places the cane across Orlando’s throat, wedges knees to his upper spine and drops him into a back stabber…Instead of pulling Orlando down by the shoulders though, he drags him down by the cane across the carotid artery.
Orlando bounces off of the knees, truly WRITHING across the canvas at this point. He is grabbing at his spine and his throat…unable to decide what part of his anatomy hurts more. Eventually the pain is pushed aside, Orlando’s survival instincts kicking in. He crawls over one of the canes when Christian swoops in, grabs the Icon around the neck and prepares to deliver the implant DDT a second time. But Orlando suddenly stands up and pulls the cane into Christian’s crotch, then keeps lifting. He pulls Savior up and over with the cane wedged to the taint of the Phoenix, flipping him over and sending him crashing across the back of his head.
Christian rolls over and Orlando has the advantage, standing up with the cane held in front of his face…a very bad idea if there ever was one…Rose rushes forward and hit’s a big thrust kick to the cane, driving it back into Orlando’s face.
Cruze collapses to his back…all but spent at this point….convulsing as Rose would normally go for the pin…but really wants her husband to have this moment…this career milestone he desperately needs. She shouts for him to go for the pin, pleading with him to recover and make the pin…..but Christian has been through too much…has endured too much…
Rose finally acknowledges that her husband can’t follow through prompting her to step up to the plate as the pitch hitter. She rushes at the ropes but Orlando catches her going by, hooking her leg and pulling her down into the school boy from behind.
Rose rolls right through though and out of the pin, waiting for Orlando to get up in front of him. He’s only about half way up before Rose goes airborne, catching him around the neck for the diamond cutter. The fans are flipping out and so is Rose, who is shoved out of the cutter and across the ring before she can deliver the move.
Now she substitutes one for another, dropping over on top of her head and palms with the back of her legs striking the top rope. The head-stand ricochet from the ropes is counter when Orlando rushes in, bends down with his side facing Rose and drags her down out of the headstand and then up onto his shoulders. He pushes her legs off of his shoulder and then swings her around, catching Rose across the chest then planting her with the Rock Bottom across the canvas.
The whole building is going nuts when the very unique version of the Rock Bottom connects and puts Rose in dire straights…straights she won’t be recovering from. Orlando hooks her leg and has the victory all but cinched in.
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By God no….NOOO! Rose has gotten a shoulder from the canvas a mere fraction of a second before the three…leaving Orlando to question everything…absolutely everything….but primarily what’ll it take to finish off the Saviors.
He’s seemingly at the end of his rope as he drags Rose up to her feet and then shoots an arm across her chest…going to the well and wishing that this will finally be enough to put an end to this war…But Christian charges in to make sure that doesn’t happen only to have Orlando step forward and push Savior’s wife right into his sternum. Orlando catches him by the shoulder TOO…and then heaves BOTH Christian and Rose up into a simultaneous Rock Bottom…driving the two into the canvas stacked up on top of one another.
Susie: Holy Nick Nolte!
A resounding ovation is heard from the crowd at the sight of the stereo Rock Bottom that has fell BOTH Christian AND Rose. The former World Champion is shoved out of the way so that Orlando can make sure that Christian DOES play an instrumental role in the conclusion of this handicap match…by being the man who is pinned.
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Susie: So long…farewell…auf weidersehen, good night.
NOT HAPPENING…Christian getting his shoulder up mere seconds before the Saviors could taste ANOTHER defeat at the hands of the Icon. Disbelief…total and utter disbelief.
Orlando sits up and grapples with what just happened, unable to bring himself to the truth that this match is continuing. But at least it gives him the opportunity to inflict further damage on Rose, and make sure that she DOESN’T play a factor in the World Title match. So he begins to set his sights on her….meaning he has to look up, because Rose is springing off the back of her crawling husband and catching Orlando around the neck, dragging him around into the tornado DDT.
Orlando’s head crashes into the canvas, bringing an end to his drive. He lies on the canvas as Christian slowly backs across the ring…nay….staggers across the ring, eventually taking a spot in the far corner. He then bends forward, crouching up, crouching down, preparing to unleash the spear to a reaction that has the fans coming out of their seats.
Susie: Christian about to put a shoulder in him…meaning he’s well done.
Rose grabs Orlando’s shoulder, pulling him slowly off of the canvas in order for the Phoenix to slice their rival in two…and that’s precisely what he’s on the verge of doing. Christian barrels across the ring and dives into the spear when Orlando smashes one of the canes over his head. Rose, and more importantly, her husband had not anticipated this calamity…nor the one that follows next. Orlando steps back and then delivers the super kick against the jaw of an unsuspecting Rose.
Susie: He took out both Saviors again…Orlando is on a roll…He’s got them…he’s got them right where his big burly…thousand bicep arms want them.
The fans are gasping at the sight of Savior lying on his back with fragments of broken cane laying around his head, but are equally as pulled into the plight of Rose, who isn’t moving after taking the super kick. Yet there are others who sympathize with Orlando, actually cheering him….spellbound by his performance this evening.
Orlando continues to put on a show unlike we’ve ever seen before…or actually like the one we just saw a few seconds ago…Cruze backing into one of the turnbuckles, bending down with hands on his knees and his tongue extending out to his side.
Susie: Is he gonna…he’s not is he…He wouldn’t…
The fans are equally as stunned that Orlando would be going for this….would be preparing to take a page right out of the Savior family playbook…and to make matters a tad bit more insulting, he’s about to deliver the move on an unsuspecting Rose…why…because she was the first to show any signs of movement. She begins to stand up in spite of so many people begging her to stay down.
Susie: If you get up Rose, you’re not gonna like what happens to you.
Rose doesn’t listen to any warnings…too stubborn…too resolate…too determined. Once on her feet Rose turns around just as Orlando does the unthinkable. Without remorse or compassion Orlando dashes out of the corner and leaps into the spea….the Original Sin? Christian leaps in out of nowhere and delivers the code breaker on Orlando…countering his spear and catching him before he can deliver the move on Rose.
Susie: Ohhh…Christian catches Orlando before he could hit it…he’s such a good little hubby.
The fans are swept up into the emotional tidal wave, bowled over by the suspense of seeing the spear reversed into the Original Sin, which has spared Rose an unthinkable fate….wait…it’s actually put her in quite an unenviable position. She is staring down at the Icon, who kneels on the canvas and sways from side to side, on the brink of going over as he desperately holds onto any last vestige of consciousness. His batting eyes tries to remain open but are mere slits. Though the sits allow him just enough vision to see Rose picking up one of the canes. She stares down into the weapon within her clutches….glancing between it and the face of the Icon.
Susie: This scene is somewhat eerily familiar isn’t it?
A choice…one Rose did not want to be left in her hands…there’s Orlando kneeling on the canvas, and there’s the cane once again in her clutches. Does she do it? Can she do it? She grips the cane so tight splinters may dig into her skin…But some of that tension is released when she turns to Orlando…who mouths the words “save me.”
Seconds later the cane is cracking it two over the skull of the Icon, sending splinters and sweat cascading through the air.
Susie: SHE DID IT! ROSE FINALLY DID IT! She just bashed Lando in the skull with the cane!!
The phobia has been overcome, Rose at last conquering the fear and conquering the Icon. But said conquering is not yet complete, cause Orlando is SHOCKINGLY getting back to his feet. He stands absent of thought just as Christian barrels across the ring and cuts him in two with the Bloodline Spear.
Orlando is driven into the canvas with Christian not just coming down on top but hooking both of his legs.
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3!
And the match everyone has been waiting to come to fruition has just reached an ending that can only be described as fitting.
Susie: I am blown…blown away…not the other type of blown. The blown that can people into serious trouble.
The match lived up to all the hype and all the brutality, and with the Saviors capturing their retribution. But now it’s Rose’s arms that capture Christian’s neck, wrapping around his head and pulling it into her chest. The two share a passionate hug amongst a riotous and emotional response from the crowd.
Thomas Boll: Great American fan…winner of match…Christian, Rose, Saviors!
Somehow the crowd has the lung capacity to get even louder after this announcement is made and the victory that Rose and Christian have worked so hard to achieve has finally been achieved. Rose helps Christian to his feet, steps to his side and lifts his arm up high to properly commemorate the victory. Orlando looks up from his laid out position on the canvas, gripping at his bruised ribs and staring at the victors through the blood gushing down his forehead. He watches the two leave the ring and marching up the ramp to the tunes of Christian’s entrance music. They finally reach the ramp where Rose again takes her husband’s wrist and lifts it as far above his head as it can get without dislocating his shoulder. The arm drops down…but not to Christian’s side. Instead he grabs Rose’s head and pulls her into a kiss so passionate it would make any Hollywood director envious.
As the two step through the curtains Orlando gets to his feet in the middle of the ring, almost falling over several times. Somehow he achieves the ability to keep his wobbly legs beneath him. It’s this act of courage and determination that gets a standing ovation from many in attendance.
Susie: Orlando gave it his all tonight….he fought through everything but the Saviors were just too much for him in the end. That cane to his skull, and the spear, finally finished off the Icon.
No…Orlando hasn’t been finished off…he raises his arms above his head to celebrate with the crowd…celebrate the small victory of still being able to stand after this match…But he doesn’t stand for too long, because Hurse swoops in behind him with a cane and slams it over Orlando’s back.
Susie: OH POOEY!
The fans have a bit more vulgar response at the sight of Hurse doing more damage to Orlando…feeling that he got off light…that his ability to stand upright is a direct and personal insult. Hurse lifts the cane above his head and brings it down over Orlando’s back again, knocking him to his stomach.
Hurse bends down over him and pulls back his patch so that the laid out Cruze and the thousands in attendance can view the mutilated patch of flesh where his eyeball used to be.
Hurse: You do not walk away from this, Orlando…Not again….not again.
He draws back the cane above Orlando’s head about to split it like a melon when Taylor Chase comes barreling down the ramp and sliding inside. The sight of the World Champion has Hurse scurrying for the hills…jumping ship like a rat. He leaps the ropes and then the barricade, wanting absolutely no part of Chase, crouching down to check on her man, her Icon, her love.
Her hand slowly slides into his own and the other brushes some blood out of his eyes. Taylor turns Orlando’s head so that he looks up into her face.
Tay-Tay: Hold your head high, Champ…Hold your head, high.
With a tear in his eye Orlando gazes at the woman who means more to him than anything, and although it hurts him to so much as breathe, he’s able to say…nay shout something very loud.
Orlando: NOW!
Before Tay-Tay can question rather this is some type of concussion related outburst, her ankles are grabbed from outside the ring and she’s slid right into the shoulder of her own father. The Brod holds Tay-Tay over his arm and begins to carry her up the ramp without spending time on an explanation…one she would no doubt ignore anyhow.
Tay-Tay: What are you doing? Daddy stop! STOP Daddy! DADDY!!!
A forlorn Cruze watches as his intoxicatingly beautiful love is whisked backstage by an overprotective yet well intentioned father. She thrashes, kicks and screams, does everything in her power, short of attacking her own papa in order to break free from his grasp, but the Brod, he won’t let go, he can’t let go, he couldn’t live with himself if he allowed her to compete in the torturous main event.
P>Susie: Where you taking her, Brod? Where? Can I come?
Through the curtains strolls both Chase’s, leaving behind Orlando…who has convinced himself that what just happened was for the greater good. He no longer thinks myopically, but expands his worldview, concerned with the good of not just himself, but the company as a whole.
Like an Egyptian Queen, Tabitha Silevestone’s every whim and desire is met by the fawning clients, more like servants surrounding her. One masked track suit wearing individual slave has provided the holder of the World Heavyweight Championship belt with a goblet of grapes, and another even fans her off with a giant palm leaf. She not only accepts this royal treatment, but relishes in it, kicking back in her leather recliner with the sequestered World Title belt resting on her well toned abs. The door leading into the room somewhere deep within the innards of the MGM Grand Gardens, flies open and Tabitha’s location is at last revealed, at least to one person, Gavin Taylor.
Tabitha: Gavin my sweet, been waiting for you.
The smug levels are off the charts, as Taylor STRUTS into the room and a chair is quickly pulled up for him by one of the masked individuals who led him to this undisclosed location. Gavin plants himself in and tries to get relaxed.
Tabitha: Comfortable?
Gavin: Chair is a little lopsided.
A grimace and a headache from the all powerful Silverstone.
Tabitha: Unacceptable. Someone fetch Mr. Taylor a more agreeable seat.
Four of the flock break away to fulfill the demands of Silverstone, who can’t help but to smile and pop another grape.
Gavin: It’s alright, I’ll make do.
Tabitha: You shouldn’t have to. As my client you’re entitled to the best, and only the best.
Gavin: Can’t argue with that. So, I guess the sales pitch is coming.
Tabitha: Yes, because unlike Adam Chase, I’m not going to treat you like an indentured servant. You have absolute freedom with me, which is why I won’t be holding you up to the arbitrary terms of the gamble you placed on your match this evening. You don’t HAVE to be my client, but I’m sure you’ll want to be after we’ve had a chance to properly discuss terms.
Gavin: You have my ear.
Bob: Bob Rabbit is late, so late, Red King gonna be mad at Bob, Red King gonna be a big mean.
Ba’al’s patience has passed the test, suffering a number of varying personalities that can be described as quite over the top. He proceeds deeper and deeper into the MGM Grand, nipping at the heels of the massive leathery pantaloons that adhere to the blubber of Bob. Each step brings them deeper into the shadows, with pipes and valves surrounding them, indicating that they’ve gone subterranean. This serves Ba’al just fine, because the deeper they go, the less likely anyone can hear Bob scream.
Bob: Through the Bob hole…
P>A very tiny door is visible at the end of the hall, one Bob pushes open before TRYING, rather unsuccessfully to stuff in engorged body through. He gets less that half way before finding himself stuck…trapped in the entirely too small aperture. Ba’al sighs before turning attention to the regularly proportioned door just off to its side leading to the exact same location. He pushes it open and takes a few steps, which is all it requires before he comes into view of Leeland Gaunt seated Indian style with a few candles faintly burning on his sides.
Bob: Bob Rabbit late. Bob Rabbit stuck.
Ba’al doesn’t even glance at the upper head of Bob sticking through the wall at his side, attention fixed on a surprisingly calm Mr. Gaunt.
Mr. Gaunt: Ah, at long last, if it isn’t the regurgitater of googled German euphemisms. How kind of you to join me.
Gestures are made to the open patch of ground before him.
Mr. Gaunt: Famished? I’m sure there a few cans of Spam around here somewhere.
Ba’al: I’m afraid I have appetites for more macabre desires, Mr. Gaunt.
His fingers are slipping through the brass knuckles of the blade currently hidden behind his back.
Mr. Gaunt: Planning on doing something truly unspeakable with that knife behind your back? Or are you simply going to hold it to my throat before ultimately letting me walk away in truly anticlimactic fashion?
Ba’al: You’re fate is a bit more determinant than Mr. Hush’s, I’m afraid after viewing the numerous videos that have arrived over time upon my door step that the evidence is a bit overwhelming in regards to your guilt.
Mr. Gaunt: Videos you say? So you’ve let it slip then that someone made you aware of the Black Crusade?
Ba’al: Your crimes were brought to my attention, yes, but ultimately I was the one who passed judgment and shall enact the execution.
Mr. Gaunt: You’re quite welcomed to try, Mr. Lord of Flies.
The hidden dagger contained in Gaunt’s cane is withdrawn and placed on the floor in front of his crossed legs.
Ba’al: I’m aftaid that will not protect you, Mr. Gaun….
Ba’al was narrowing the gap between himself and the guilty party before stopping just in time to keep his foot from making contact with the sigil drawn across the floor.
Ba’al: A devil’s trap?
The grin on his face is rather excessive in terms of malice and malevolence.
Ba’al: You think justice can be trapped, Mr. Gaunt? Can be contained? No, justice is a power, one that extends into the ethereal, beyond the bounds of physical limitations.
Mr. Gaunt: Would you please get on with slashing of my throat if it prevents me having to hear anymore of your delusional, and all together silly rhetoric?
Ba’al: I suppose far too much of my time has already been wasted on your inane antics throughout the evening. So if expedience is what you desire, and you care not for a retrial, then execution shall be carried forth.
The man of menace moves AROUND the sigil, careful not to step beneath it. Surprisingly Mr. Gaunt does not move towards his own weapon, perhaps intent on testing the extent of Ba’al’s masochism. Or perhaps he’s simply waiting…waiting for the two individuals who come busting through the doors at that very moment. P Clarence Whitman and Simon Cagero rush into the room and find themselves stunned to spot Ba’al turning to address them with his eyes.
Ba’al: Ah, gentlemen….wasn’t aware this was a surprise party.
Simon: Well surprise, surprise mother-fucker.
Cagero and Whitman dash towards Ba’al, his abduction of Lois Prince coming back to haunt him, or so would be the case if the executioner didn’t have an equalizer, the dagger in his clutches. He swipes it through the air but only manages to cut that, just the oxygen and CO2 standing between he and the aggressors. Whitman and Simon leap back in time to avoid the curved steel traveling towards their flesh. Ba’al holds them at bay and looks to taker advantage of their fear only to have a forearm swung into his testicular region.
Mr. Gaunt gets the drop on his would-be assailant, doubling him over and causing the knife to slip from his fingers to the floor below, clanking against the cement.
Mr. Gaunt: If only others practiced some simple Himalayan testicular techniques.
Whitman and Simon are all over Ba’al before he could possibly recover, fists and feet swinging into every bit of his anatomy. Eventually Ba’al is brought to his knees with his lower lip busted open again causing blood to seep down into the sigil beneath his knees.
Mr. Gaunt: Gentlemen, please…I want him capable of speech.
Whitman: This sycophant has possession of my….
Mr. Gaunt: I’m quite aware of your current misfortunes, Mr. Whitman, and Mrs. Prince’s location is paramount amongst the many questions I have in store for Mr. Lord of Flies.
Ba’al: Questions you say?
Ba’al turns his head just enough to look over his shoulder at the man he is now incapable of getting hold of considering he’s trapped by the sigil he kneels upon.
Ba’al: And what? You expect answers in exchange for my freedom?
Mr. Gaunt: No, Mr. Lord of Flies, I’m afraid that freedom is the least of your concerns.
That very same curved blade is extracted from the ground and held in the clutches of Mr. Gaunt.
Whitman: Excuse me…but when did this show turn into Supernatural fan fiction?
Mr. Gaunt: In the words of Mr. Meriweather, silence you jackanapes!
Mr. Gaunt stoops towards the prone Ba’al, but remains outside of the ring sigil and as thus out of the reach of his intended victim.
Mr. Gaunt: Let’s skip the formalities shall we and CUT right to the point. Where have you hidden Mrs. Prince?
Blood is swiped from Ba’al’s lip turning the back of his fist into a handkerchief.
Ba’al: Since I’ve gotten from her what I desire, I’ll gladly return the empty husk that I left behind. Mr. Whitman, you can find her festering carcass in the employee chapel.
Whitman is off before he can be party to anymore of these all together odd circumstances. Through the door he rushes with Simon following behind. Cagero pauses half way through the door, looking back at Mr. Gaunt to ensure everything is under control.
Mr. Gaunt: Take your leave, Mr. Cagero. I have this in hand.
Simon departs and Mr. Gaunt paces around the sigil. His eyes are focused upon the kneeling and bleeding prisoner.
Mr. Gaunt: You mentioned video tapes a few moments ago…
Ba’al: Damning and incriminating evidence I must say.
Mr. Gaunt: Who sent you these videos?
Ba’al: The very same man instrumental in my signing with this company. A man who hounded me night and day to bring justice to this federation.
Mr. Gaunt is quite intrigued as he slouches, bending at the knees to get at eye level with the man he interrogates.
Ba’al: I believe you know him as Desmond…Desmond Drake…
Mr. Gaunt: Interesting. So the little reprobate is responsible for your signing and your subsequent targeting of the Black Crusade?
Ba’al: What is the proper American colloquialism? Ah yes…something regarding fighting fire with fire?
Mr. Gaunt: Funny you should mention fire.
One of the candles is raised and turned just enough to cause melting hot wax to pour to the floor.
Ba’al: Is this when the torture begins?
Mr. Gaunt: You sound quite giddy, Mr. Lord of Flies.
Ba’al: Oh I’m no sadomasochist, Mr. Gaunt…But whatever keeps you distracted from the fact that my blood has erased a sizeable portion of your sigil, does strike my fancy.
Indeed, the blood secreted from his lip has pooled upon the sigil and warn away just enough of the markings to break Gaunt’s spell.
Mr. Gaunt’s eyes shoot to the sigil and then back up into the empty space Ba’al’s face used to occupy. Into the ether the lord of flies has flown…vanishing from the sight of Mr. Gaunt.
Mr. Gaunt: Intriguing.
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Bob: Bob still stuck!
The loud voice of Bob breaks the awkward silence as he tries to push through the tiny aperture he’s currently trapped in.
Bob: Did Bob hear something about Spam?
Tay-Tay: No Dad…stop…stop….don’t do this!
Chase is no longer squirming to get out of the hands of Broderick, but out of the trunk she’s been stuffed into. Hands wedge to the trunk door, trying to keep it from being shoved shut and trapping her inside, but her father is far too strong and far too determined. He slams the trunk shut and locks her inside, so that now all that can be heard are her stifled screams.
Tay-Tay: Let me out of here Daddy! Or I’ll never forgive you…NEVER!
Broderick doesn’t believe that, one day she’ll see things his way, after-all, family forgives and ultimately forgets. Chase steps around to the driver’s door, pops it open and hops behind the wheel, hitting the gas to carry his custom auto from the building. But it’s not his antique vehicle that he’s accelerating from the MGM Grand, it’s the precious cargo held in the trunk.
Susie: Awww, Brod protecting his daughter the only way he knows how, by abducting her and taking her out of the building so she CAN’T defend her title against Harrison tonight.
The drum beat of Crash Karma’s ‘Fight’ dredges up a number of responses from the crowd, none of them being very friendly. Through the curtains steps Hugo Magnusson and Bash Kincaid, wearing their Tag Team Champion belts and expressions that match their attitudes. They embark towards the ring with anger in their hearts, fed up with this night already, considering they weren’t expecting to even wrestle here tonight.
Susie: And speaking of title defenses, we’re about to see the Tag Team gold on the line in our only championship bout. Where’s Adam Chase though, how come he’s not with his clients? He already lost one tonight, shouldn’t be trying to piss off Hugo and Bash too.
In spite of not having Chase at their side, Magnusson and Kincaid leap to the apron and into the ring, Bash looking a bit tipsy after ingesting copious amounts of champagne earlier in the night. But who needs Chase right? After-all, Hugo and Bash have been the most dominant of tandems since signing with the IWC, only suffering ONE loss thus far to Unity, and they’re looking to put that in their past in favor forging a truly bright future. They relinquish their straps just as Stone Sour plays over the PA system and one of the challenging teams moves to the stage. A skipping Cassidy Haze leads Damion Sommers to the stage behind her, who spins around unleashing a maniacal laugh. The eccentric team moves to the ring with Cassidy skipping up the steps to the apron where she waves to the Tag Team Champions. Hugo returns the wave before Bash slaps his hand down.
Susie: And the weirdest team since the Moondogs…someone throw them a bone to much upon.
There only seems to be one thing the two want a taste of, the Tag Team Championships. They leap to the apron and do not hesitate to slip through the ropes, coming face to face with Hugo and Bash. Actually Cassidy has Damion drop to all fours so she can step onto the small of his back and get into Bash’s face, exchanging some insults with him. That’s when….
Dollar: There is no way we’re coming out to that horrid abomination you call an entrance theme. It’s little guitar rifts and off key singing is not indicative of class or sophistication whatsoever…two things mostly closely associated with Johnny Dollar.
TPKid: I think you got the being an ‘ass’ part right.
Dollar: I said class.
TPKid: I could give a flying fuck…we’re going out there to MY entrance music like it or not.
Dollar is adamant and TPKid is just as stubborn, the two continuing to bark at one another just behind the curtains.
Dollar: Would it kill you to have just a little sophistication?
TPKid: I’ve got sophistication coming out of my ass.
A roll of the eyes.
Dollar: I’m so sure. You know what…forget it…Let’s just have NO music tonight…It’s better than picking whatever ear-soar you choose to hype your arrival.
TPKid: So sorry my entrance music isn’t provided by some dead musician who couldn’t stop fingering his organ.
With that TPKid is on his way to the ring, leaving Johnny Dollar behind with a shaking head.
Dollar: No good can come of this.
The match is about to get underway, even though Hugo and Bash were promised the night off…but now they no only to wrestle one team, but two…As demanded by Dollar, no entrance music is provided for the polar opposite personalities comprising the team of TPKid and Johnny. The two are STILL arguing with one another over the most mundane of things, such as who gets to go through the curtains first. At last they reach the compromise that they’ll BOTH step through at the same time. Black Magic Woman pops up behind them, arms crossed and head giving a judgmental shake, not liking this childish behavior from the two men.
Susie: Where’s Porno Lad? I so want a refund…Someone give me a refund!
Without Porno Lad present there’s no one to unify these two, who were all set to go at it with one another as opponents rather than partners. In spite of their misgivings the two march up the steps….opposite steps…and climb into opposing corners. Dollar looks flabbergasted, stomping his foot and slapping the top turnbuckle pad.
Dollar: Get over here into MY corner!
TPKid: I’ve already made myself comfortable, so get bidet using ass over here, Johnny.
The two proceed shouting at one another from across the ring when referee Fitzpatrick signals for the bell to get this madness over and done with. The bell chimes and here…we….go…the fun is about to begin. Cassidy instantly takes off the kid gloves and leaps off of the back of Sommers, landing right on top of Kincaid’s shoulders. She then swings around into a big hurricarana, flipping him over.
Susie: Nice way for any match to start, with Cassidy’s crotch in your face.
Bash rolls across the canvas while Haze kips up to her feet, then takes off into the ropes. Hugo charges in to aid his partner and put the kibosh on whatever Haze has in mind. But instead he walks right into a log roll, Damion taking his legs out from under him. Magnusson collapses to his stomach while Haze rushes forward and lunges into the air, connecting with a double stomp right between the shoulder blades of Hugo.
Magnusson’s face is driven into the canvas and he goes flopping to his back while Haze steps to Damion’s side the two interlocking hands before rushing at the recovered Kincaid and hitting him with a double team lariat. Bash is sent flipping up and over the ropes to the outside of the ring while Haze exits and leaves Damion to pick up the pieces.
Sommers turns towards Hugo who is griping the back of his neck and TRYING to get up. Damion rushes in and gets a double palm thrust to his carotid artery for his troubles, causing him to stagger back. He centers himself though and then charges forward once more only to have Hugo catch him with a tilt a whirl straight into the back breaker across his elevated knee.
Susie: The clown couldn’t hang with the champs for long…no matter how many balloon animals he throws around.
The ailing spine of Sommers corrupts him momentum, making it very difficult for him to stand up. That’s okay, cause Hugo takes him around the waist and dead lifts him not only up from his hands and knees but onto his shoulders so he can deliver a lay out power bomb. Sommers collides with the canvas so violently it shakes the entire ring, which Hugo is stepping across in order to make the tag to a furious Bash.
Kincaid is just all worked up as he slips into the ring, lifts his fist and dives into knuckles first into Damion’s forehead. Sommers sits up gripping at his skull while Bash swoops in behind him, delivering crossface forearms to both sides of his skull, inflicting enough damage to rattle his brain. He then applies a sleeper hold and his incredible strength to heave Damion up off of his seat and ultimately fling him down spine first into the canvas by the back of his head with a sleeper slam.
The impact causes Sommers to ricochet up to his seat, already looking darn near unconscious. And he gets even closer to a comatose state when Bash ricochets off the ropes in front of him and delivers a siding lariat to the throat.
Damion goes down and Bash looks to make quick work of his challengers. He wedges a forearm to Sommers’ face, pushing his shoulders down to the canvas.
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A shoulder escapes the canvas and Damion escapes defeat, but who knows for how long at this point. Kincaid stands up, taking the wearer of mass clown makeup by the wrists, pulling him up to his seat, wedging a foot to his chest and then delivering an inverted curb stomp. He then goes airborne, dropping another fist down into Damion’s face.
He doesn’t for a pin, he instead plucks Sommers up and throws him into his corner. A big running forearm cracks Damion’s jaw, and almost takes him out of the corner but Kincaid doesn’t let that happen, instead wedging a shoulder to his challenger’s ribs, holding him in place. Hugo then reaches over and slaps his partner’s back before slipping into the ring and moving into an opposite corner. He gets a big running start, barreling into a European Uppercut to Damion’s jaw. Bash stepped out of the way just in time to avoid being sandwiched between his partner and his opponent, leaving the challenger entirely exposed to the European Uppercut that has him staggering out of the corner.
All the while Hugo is rushing into the ropes in front of him, ricocheting off and then almost beheading the banged up Sommers with a big boot to the jaw. The kick puts Damion down and Hugo twisting into the cover.
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The resiliency of Sommers is a sight to be beheld….and it is being beheld…by thousands in the stands and potentially millions at home.
Susie: Poor Damion…you guys wouldn’t treat Bozo like this…so why do it to Sommers? Don’t you know how many balloon animals he could create for you?
From the canvas to his feet Sommers is dragged before being heaved up onto Magnusson’s shoulder. He then powers him backwards across the ring and drives all the air and energy out of his body by driving it into the turnbuckle. He then raises a palm which is slapped by Bash, bringing himself back into this match. Hugo stands up, grabs the challenger by the back of the head, charges him out of the corner and throws him into a discus lariat to the throat. Kincaid almost beheads Damion, putting him out…and out cold. Kincaid then reaches down, grabs Sommers by the hair, drags him around to his feet and applies a front chancery upon him.
He heaves Sommers up into the air but Damion twists his body around in the process so that he wraps an arm around Bashs; neck and drags him down into a reverse DDT right out of the previous vertical suplex position. The back of Kincaid’s skull collides with the canvas and Damion not only rolls away, but slides through the legs of the inbound Magnusson. Damion leaps to his feet behind Hugo then lunges forward, catching him by the back of the head that is eventually driven down into Bash’s chest.
Susie: Is it time for one of those obligatory hot tags to be made?
That’s exactly what time it is…evident as Damion gets to his feet and lifts a palm, pointing it in the direction of Cassidy, who is still half way across the ring. He begins to move in and bring an eager Haze back into this confrontation, but instead his palm is slapped by TPKid.
An angered Sommers spins around and gets a boot to the ribs, doubling him over before being place din a side headlock. TPKid makes sure that Sommers meets up with Haze, but not via tagging her in. The top of his head is employed as a battering ram, driven right into Haze’s stomach and knocking her from the apron. He then turns around and transitions from the bulldog position to a front chancery. He then rushes across the ring and leaps into the air just as Hugo gets back to his feet, kicking him under the jaw, and actually stepping off of him in order to swing around into a tornado DDT.
The DDT connects on Sommers, leaving him dead to the world but his opponent surging with adrenaline. Kid leaps to his feet just as Bash charges at him with the forearm aimed at his face. Before his head can become a souvenir for some lucky fan, Kid ducks the arm hooks it, and leaps into the air with his legs, extending then across Bash’s back.
Ultimately Kincaid is dragged down into the crucifix pin.
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Kincaid kicks out, dropping to his knees only to be caught in a front chancery from TPKid, who performs an Alligator roll, dragging Bash along with him while trapped in the hold. Unfortunately the roll puts TPKid too close to the ropes, just within reach of a tag from Dollar.
Susie: Haven’t we seen enough blind tags for the evening…But wait…If their blind…doesn’t that mean we’re not suppose to see them?
TPKid’s eyes cut to the man who is climbing up and over the ropes, sitting on the top turnbuckle pad with hands interlocking for a double axe handle.
Dollar: Stand him up.
Johnny barks orders, but that doesn’t mean TPKid is about to follow them. He instead alligator rolls Bash back to the center of the ring and then stands up, heaving him up into the air for a vertical suplex. That’s when Johnny changes strategy, leaping out of the corner and hitting a cross body on the upside down Kincaid. Kid falls back into the suplex at the same time the cross-body connects. Dollar remains strewn across the chest of Bash, hooking his leg for the pinfall.
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Bash manages to get a shoulder out from under the commentator/agent/wrestler/man who would wear many hats if they wouldn’t mess up his hair.
Susie: My broadcast colleague ALMOST just won the belts…meaning he might let me put some glitter on them and everything. And if he doesn’t, I’ll challenge him for the straps, with you…Magic 8 Ball….as my partner.
Dollar doesn’t look very pleased that his pinfall failed to net him the win…especially since it means he’ll have to continue teaming with the man who has taken residency in their corner, insisting upon a tag…one that Johnny is no intention of making.
He drags Bash up to his feet and hooks both arms, trapping them behind the champion’s back so he can subject his face to a number of knee strikes. They land against the bridge of his nose and his chest, bringing Bash closer and closer to a state of unconsciousness.
But Bash suddenly has a burst of energy, standing up and back dropping Dollar…wait…he actually flips over out of the back drop attempt and lands right on his feet. The fans are stunned that Johnny was capable of pulling off such a feat…and now uses one of his feet to nail Bash to the ribs the moment he spins around.
The Tag Team Champion doubles over, grabbing at his mid-section and finding himself mere seconds from throwing up his champagne. Dollar is taking off into the ropes ricocheting off into what appears to be a match killing move only to have Bash rush forward and cut him off with a knee to the ribs, doubling him over.
Bash then rushes into the opposite ropes while slapping his forearm. But the moment he turns and springs off the cables, Johnny is charging right in and hitting him to the face with a back elbow. Bash falls back against the cables but doesn’t spring off into a forearm. Instead he springs off into the clutches of Dollar, who snap mares him over the canvas. He then leaps in front of Bash and then over his head, catching him around the head as he delivers the neck breaker.
Johnny rolls to his feet and swings his arms out to his sides with a giant smile plastered across his face.
Dollar: Now THAT is entertainment.
His boisterous display is well received by the Vegas crowd, but not by TPKid, who slaps his partner’s shoulder. Dollar looks flabbergasted by this blind tag, prompting him to react in the spur of the moment, out of anger. He grabs TPKid by the back of the head and pulls him over the top rope, flipping him over unintentionally into a senton bomb across Bash’s sternum.
Kid then rolls straight to his feet and boasts perhaps even better than Dollar.
TPKid: Thanks partna.
The upper lip of Dollar quivers as he exit’s the ring, leaving Kid on his own. With Black Magic Woman slapping the apron and cheering him on, Kid refocuses on his target, the co-holder of the Tag Titles. He pulls Bash along to his knees then drawls back his fist for a knock out shot only to have Kincaid grab him by the belt, dragging him forward into a shoulder to the ribs.
Kincaid then stands up, grabs Kid by the wrist and yanks him forward into a lethal short arm clothesline. Kid goes down hard and Bash lands beside him. The moment Kid hits the canvas, is a moment Dollar capitalizes upon reaching over the ropes and slapping the shoulder of his partner.
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He then lays in wait for Bash to get back to his feet. Once his opponent is upright, Dollar goes springboard leaping to the top rope and then flying off right into ANOTHER devastating lariat from Kincaid, putting Dollar right back down.
Susie: If Dollar loses his head do I STILL have to do commentary with him? Though he already pretty much is a talking head so nothing will really change.
Kincaid is sluggish, VERY sluggish as he gets to his feet…so sluggish that he slugs his way backwards into the ropes falling against them for support. The moment he hit’s the ropes, is a moment that CASSIDY capitalizes on.
She tags Bash with her hand then with her foot, nailing him in the back of a skull with a kick that sends him twisting towards the center of the ring. Haze then enters the squared circle with Damion stepping to her side, the two interlocking hands before running into another tag team lariat. Their arms connect…but not with Bash’s chest…Instead its his forearms they nail and forearms that separate their interlocks hands. Haze and Sommers go spinning across the ring after having their move blocked. The moment then turn back towards Bash, he charges in and delivers a stereo lariat, knocking both challengers down to the canvas.
Susie: This guy is unstoppable…and not just because he has a downright magical perm. Though I bet it doesn’t hurt.
Referee Fitzpatrick requests that Bash exit the ring but Kincaid pulls back his fist and sends the official running. He has no intention of exiting the ring….not when his team is dominating. He turns just as Haze has reached her feet and is stumbling towards him. Kincaid catches her coming in and forces her up onto his shoulder. He then rushes forward for the power slam only to have Haze counter at the last second. She slips off of Bash’s shoulder to her feet behind his back. She then leaps into the air, grabs Bash’s shoulders and delivers a back stabber. Bash bounces up to his feet, stumbles forward and gets caught in the clutches of a recovered Sommers, who scoops him up and then drops to his seat as he delivers a seated Michinoku Driver.
Evidently Bash should have gotten out of the ring when he had the chance…and Damion should have followed suit. He begins to stand up when Dollar swoops in behind him, taking Sommers around the neck, charging him like a human battering ram into Cassidy’s ribs….No….Haze sees it coming this time, prompting her to not just side step the head of her partner, but to step off Dollar’s hip and connect with an enzugari to the back of his skull.
Johnny is left looking like he was on a late night bender, falling back now into the shoulders of Sommers. He stands up, holding Dollar in an inverted fireman’s carry then swinging him around out of the torture rack into a reverse neck breaker.
Susie: Magic 8 Ball, I hope your ready to pick up the slack for Johnny next week….after moves like that he’ll never be able to commentate again.
The last two moves have done it…siphoning all the fight from Johnny’s body, and leaving him susceptible to the pin and you better believe that’s what Cassidy is going for. As Damion crawls into a defensive posture to ward off anyone who might interfere, Haze climbs into the cover, hooking Johnny’s leg.
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TPKid rushes in to stop the pin but gets a shoulder to the ribs, Sommers shoving him back first into the ropes, both men spilling through them.
The official is about to bring his hand down for a third time only to have Magnusson interfere at this point. He grabs the ankle of Haze and drags her off of the pin towards the center of the ring.
Susie: Awww..TCWC want to keep their brighties…and I can’t blame them….but I wanted to see the clowns celebrate.
Suddenly Haze flips to her back and uses the ankle Hugo is gripping to drag him down into the gogoplata. Hugo tries to escape the submission, swinging from side to side in the submission hold that seems to be besting him. Out of nowhere he seems to be get that last wind, employing incredible strength to heave Cassidy up and off of the canvas, as she holds onto the gogoplata even while suspended in mid-air. He then twists around into a modified giant swing. Cassidy is still clutching the gogoplata just as she’s swung into a front dropkick to the temple delivered by Kincaid.
The kick finally breaks the hold…Cassidy’s hold…but not Hugo’s. Even though she releases the submission, Hugo won’t let of the legs and now employs them to heave her straight up onto his shoulders. He then rushes across the ring about to throw her into the power bomb when a surprisingly recovered Dollar catches him coming in, by side stepping him, hooking his leg and his shoulder then snapping back into the Russian Leg sweep.
Hugo crashes to his back with Cassidy coming down on top of his chest. The official does not make the count though on the basis that Hugo is not the legal man.
That’s okay with Haze though, as it keeps the violence going. She now ducks her head and rolls towards Dollar. Johnny has just reached his feet when Cassidy springs out of her roll and lands with her own feet wedged to his ribs. She wraps hands around the back of Dollar’s head and drops back into the monkey flip…Scratch that, Dollar doesn’t go over. Instead he reaches back, grabs the top rope and prevents being hit with the move, causing Haze to fall to her back with her legs suspended in the air.
Dollar then steps through the legs, wraps them around one another and pulls her over to her stomach, applying the Texas Cloverleaf to a massive ovation from the crowd.
Haze puts her elbows to the canvas, pushes herself up and chuckles from the pain coursing through her kidneys and knees. The ropes seem separated from her by miles, but she doesn’t even make an attempt to reach them…Largely because Sommers is racing in to save her, leaping into the air for a knee strike. But Dollar turns, reaches out, and catches the creases of Damion’s knees, causing him to collapse to his back. Then tries to step over in order to apply the cloverleaf.
Damion is pulled over to his stomach and locked in a hold that brings him close to the brink of submission…so close….He is about to tap the canvas when Haze steps in and delivers the Segregated Minds to the back of Dollar’s head, breaking the submission and almost breaking his skull.
He collapses to the canvas and Haze doubles over, reaching for her kidneys. Nevertheless, in spite of the pain, she’s happy…thrilled actually….getting some sick kicks…literally and figuratively, out of what she just did to Dollar, who looks like he’s taking a page of his partner’s playbook by ingesting an entire case of Pabts Blue Ribbon for the match.
He is definitely not looking like Milwaukee’s Best at the moment…and really needs to grab a Bud…that Bud being TPKid, who has possibly allowed Coor heads to prevail. One head he’s not too cool with belongs to Cassidy, hence why he’s rushing in and trying to remove it from her shoulders with a lariat…lariat that misses its mark but nails a recovered Hugo to the throat, staggering him slightly, but not taking him down. This prompts Hugo to grow a set that hangs to his knees, slapping his chest and then demanding TPKid try harder….demonstrating an ultimate bravado.
Kid takes the bait, turning to get a running start off the ropes for the lariat then turning around just as quickly and booting Hugo to the ribs, taking all that bravado right out of his body. TPKid then spins around and delivers a thunderous, decapitating lariat that puts Magnusson down and down hard.
Susie: Nothing pretty about that..unless you count TPKid’s triceps.
Kid is then grabbed from behind right when he was in the middle of gloating. His moment in the spotlight ruined by the influence of a vengeful Haze, trying to rip off his sideburns. But the greasy nature of his side burns proves detrimental to Haze, who yanks back but has her fingers slip right through the oily follicles. She then gets wide eyed as Kid turns around and throws a big boot that she ducks under. As a result the boot goes traveling right into the chest of a recovered Kincaid…Bash staggering back.
Kincaid collects himself though, then points to his jaw, which can’t be do badly damaged since he’s running it and running it a lot. He’s shouting right into TPKid’s face, using every single vulgarity he can come up with to drag the upstart’s name through the mud. Then, much like Hugo, he dares Kid to try again.
TPKid does just that, first slapping his knee then turning away from his opponent and rushing into the ropes. Or so it seems, instead he spins around instantly and goes for almost a version of the Epic Fail…perhaps paying homage to wounded partner Porno Lad. But the spinning super kick is caught in the clutches of Bash, who keeps on running his mouth to utter the words ‘no…no…no..’ it true Dikeme Mutumbo style. He then pushes down on the foot and sends Kid spinning back towards Sommers, who has regained himself and is in the process of charging in with a big double axe handle.
But Kid side steps him, kicks Sommers to the crease of his knee and sends both of his feet flying right into Kincaid’s ribs, doubling him over. TPKid then bounces off the ropes, rushes forward and NAILS Bash right to the temple with the biggest big boot ever seen…knocking the co-holder of the Tag Team Titles into next week.
The crowd is amazed at the sight of the bare knuckle brawler besting the finely finessed tandem of Hugo and Bash. He then throws an arm up high, getting a mega pop from the crowd before that pop turns to squeals the moment that Cassidy delivers ANOTHER Segregated Minds to the back of Kid’s skull, taking the fight right out of him.
Susie: Can no one stop that kick? No one? Can’t someone just make her wrestle bare footed? Taylor Chase has to do it every night….expect for tonight that is.
Haze has laid to waste both of her opponents, but a pinfall is not what she’s interested in. Instead she examines the grease under her nails then follows it by examining the blade fished from her corset. Methodically she approaches TPKid, stooping down at his side, grabbing him by the sideburns and sitting him up as she threatens to give him a much needed shave.
Haze: You’ll look so much cutter this way.
She is just about to cut one of Kid’s most distinguishing characteristics when hymens the world over burst at the sounds of Porno Lad’s truly epic Backstreet Boys theme music blaring through the speakers. Their reception gets even more riotous when Porno Lad himself emerges through the curtains and takes residency on the stage. Though his head is heavily wrapped, and he leans primarily on a crutch, Porno Lad is able to stop, soak in the adulation, and rip his shirt straight down the middle in typical Hulk Hogan fashion. The Mega-Face throws down the tattered remnants of his shirt, available on IWC shop.com, and then embarks to the ring where Haze is waiting, blade in hand and smile on her face.
Susie; This is unreal…Who put steroids in Porno Lad’s cornflakes this morning….Who? This guy is the definition of Immortal…the epitome of a Mega-Face.
The powers of the fuzzy wrist bands imbue him with just the strength he needs to toss aside the crutch, overcome the perpetual agony of his split ends and then climb up onto the apron. Haze blows him a kiss and then waves seductively in his direction before a jealous Sommers rushes right past her. A big fist is thrown at Ethan’s face the moment he enters the ring…connecting right to his jaw.
He goes spiraling into Haze, who spits into her palm then slaps Porno Lad to the cheek. He goes turning back towards Sommers who boots him to the ribs, takes him by the back of the head and charges him at the turnbuckle, ramming his presumably injured hair against the turnbuckle.
This willful targeting of his hair, prompts Porno Lad to suddenly buck up, standing straight. Haze then nails a double axehande smash to the upper back of Porno Lad, but the blow doesn’t put him down, it prompts him to begin gyrating…shaking his arms out to his sides and stutter stepping across the ring. Another forearm connects and instead of ailing Ethan, it sends him spinning around with fingers pointing into the faces of both his opponents.
Fans: YOOOOUUU!
Sommers throws a punch and has it blocked and countered with a right of Porno Lad’s own. Haze throws a punch to the same results. And then Porno Lad lays her out with a second punch before grabbing Sommers by the wrist, shooting him off into the ropes and catching him coming back in with a big boot to the throat.
He goes down and Porno Lad goes up, leaping into the air before ultimately crashing across Damion’s throat with the big leg drop.
The leg drop leaves Damion convulsing while Porno Lad is celebrating. He jumps to his feet and employs a Hogan style pec flex then turns to cup his ear and lean in to gauge the crowd’s reaction. But the moment he does said ear cup, his wrist is grabbed by Hugo, who drags him forward into a lariat…one that Porno Lad ducks. He rushes into the ropes, bounces off then dives half way across the ring just in time to catch Hugo with a shoulder tackle.
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Hugo goes down, scrambles up to his feet and then gets hit with another shoulder tackle…This isn’t enough to keep Magnusson down, as he rushes up, throws a lariat, and has PL duck that one two before wedging a shoulder to his spine. He then lifts Hugo up and delivers a modified back drop suplex, planting Magnusson on the canvas in front of him then leaping to his feet and waving a hand in front of his face.
Fans: You can’t see me!
Into the ropes he rushes, and off he springs into a big fist drop right to Hugo’s eyes, sending Magnusson into convulsions.
Susie: This man is a GAWD!
Back to his feet lunges Porno Lad, who slips into his corner and DEMANDS a tag be made. Dollar is still ailing from the Segregated Minds, but is able to crawl close enough to dive out and slap Ethan’s hand, bringing him into this match in an OFFICIAL capacity.
Susie: I can’t believe Porno Lad is summoning the strength to do this, he’s inhuman.
After the leg drop and the five moves of doom, what else can Porno Lad do to top himself? How about the top rope elbow drop? He climbs the turnbuckle, reaching the very top rope and then soaring through the air and ultimately crashing down with the point of his elbow driven directly into the point of Hugo’s chest. He then kips up, backs into the ropes and begins to stomp his foot to signal for the Epic Fail.
All the while Bash is reaching through the ropes and tagging himself into this match by slapping Cassidy’s shoulder. He slips into the ring just as Porno Lad spins across it into the Epic Fail that a kneeling Hugo avoids thanks to the interference of his partner. Bash rushes in and catches Porno Lad’s arms from behind…then heaves him up into the full nelson slam.
Porno Lad’s finishing move is thwarted and so to maybe his desires to emerge as the co-holder of the Tag Team Titles. Kincaid is too tired to follow up though, staggering back and falling against the turnbuckle after hitting the full nelson. But within seconds of falling into the corner, he’s falling victim to a step up knee strike to the jaw delivered by a recovered Haze. Cassidy then catches Bash around the neck and rushes him out of the corner into the bulldog. But at the last second, Bash slams his feet to the canvas and causes Haze to break the bulldog as she staggers forward to the middle of the ring. She then spins around just as Bash spirals out of the corner into a facial rearranging discus elbow. The strike lands with such force that it sends Haze flipping over and landing on her stomach, where she twitches and twitches..and pretty much just twitches.
But all that twitching is of no concern to Kincaid, who instead goes out of the ring before reaching beneath it and snatching hold of a steel chair. He pulls it out and slams the weapon against the apron, and then off of the stairs, firing himself up.
Susie: The chair…again? This thing has played such an instrumental role in every single one of the TCWC’s matches thus far.
Bash rolls into the ring with the chair in hand, determined to have it influence the outcome of yet another Title bout. The referee is now being detained unintentionally by Sommers, who is trying to employ the official as a makeshift crutch to reach his feet.
With chair sat in place Kincaid waits behind a slowly recovering Haze, anticipating her ascension. She just gets to her feet when Bash swoops in from behind, hooks both arms and then heaves her up into a full nelson onto the chair. The steel crushes under the weight of…not Cassidy’s spine…but Bash’s head. Haze countered in mid-air by twisting around, catching Kincaid’s neck and dropping him down skull first into the chair.
He bounces back off of the steel and onto his feet, his legs almost buckling as he walks around in true Frankenstein fashion, ultimately turning directly into the Epic Fail. Porno Lad lays Bash out then comes down laying across his chest, but the fans aren’t laying around, there are on their feet exploding in response to this pinfall.
1
2
3!
Neither Haze, Hugo, nor Damion could interfere before it was too late….meaning the truly unthinkable has just happened…we have NEW IWC Tag Team Champions….Porno Lad and….and….
Before Porno Lad can even relish this win, staggering to his feet to begin to party hardy…he’s grabbed by the shoulder and spun around by a recovered Dollar…who adamantly requests an answer regarding who will stand at his side and hold the belt along with him. Porno Lad looks confused, and doesn’t given an impulsive answer…especially when he’s spun around to the opposite side by TPKid, who is ALSO requesting answers.
Susie: Uh-oh….who are our Tag Team Champions? Porno Lad stepped in it knee deep this time.
The referee steps in arms weighed down by the Tag Team Championship belts…That weight is lifted by Porno Lad, who then dashes across the ring shouting through the ropes at the Thomas Boll. Though he has a very limited grasp on English, the announcer can piece together what he’s hearing to form something slightly cogent.
Thomas; Lady and gentle-folk, winner of match and new Tag Championship…Porno Lad AND TPKid…
The smile on TPKid’s face instantly has Dollar searching for a barf bag. Johnny can’t even bring himself to look upon the smile, or the title thrown over Kid’s shoulder, or his wrist being held up high by Porno Lad.
Thomas: AND….Johnny Dollar!
That grin from Kid is mirrored by Dollar, who’s whole face lights up when he hears this new, the pigment of his skin going from green to white. Now HIS wrist is raised and the other Tag Team Title bel tis dropped over his shoulder.
Susie: So wait…hold on…give me a second here to try to figure this out…Porno Lad…Johnny Dollar…AND TPKid are ALL IWC Tag Team Champions? Is that legal? There are only two belts and three people. And even though math give me a migraine, I don’t think this adds up.
With the bell chiming in the background Porno Lad tries to speak over all the screams.
Porno Lad: We’re doing this Freebird style Playas!
Clearly Kid and Dollar have their trepidations, but are eased at the sight of the Tag Team Titles hanging over their forearms, and their reflections in the gold plates.
Tabitha: So does the contract suit your standards, Mr. Taylor?
A ballpoint pen twists around the fingers of Tabitha before ending up in her teeth, biting down on it nervously as she watches the parchment being scanned by Gavin Taylor. It appears she is on the verge of signing her biggest client to date, one that won’t be so easily toppled by the forces she tried to have crushed in the middle of the ring.
Taylor: Ohhh….it looks…saucy.
Tabitha smiles…but then frowns…then smiles again…then frowns.
Tabitha: Is that good?
Taylor: It’s gravy.
Tabitha: Can we stop with the food puns and…
Taylor: It’s absolutely perfect, Tabby. Couldn’t have drawn up a better contract myself.
Tabitha: You kind of just did.
Gavin grins, and nothing breaks that grin.
Gavin: Oh yeah…I did, didn’t I?
The pen continues to twirl around Tabitha’s fingers.
Tabitha: It’s all pretty standard stuff, Gavin, I get my customary 15% for all media endorsements…and believe me, there will be a lot of them…and…
Gavin: Unlike my previous Agent, I trust you, Tabby…So how about you fork on over that pen and….
Tabitha: No…no…no…that’s NOT how this works. Here…
She addresses a particularly burly member of her entourage who just staggered into the room after suffering the assault at the hands of Lohan.
Tabitha:…guard this with your life.
The World Championship is pulled in and nestled tight to the track suit wearing body of Silvestone’s client.
Tabitha: If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do this right. You come to that ring with me right now and we do this publicly….Understood?
Taylor: Whhhhyyyy?
This time around her smile is unwavering.
Tabitha: Because I want YOUR former agent…to see you sign this contract and humiliate him in front of the entire world. Every member of the Chase family is going to suffer, understood? And it‘s not gonna happen behind closed doors…It‘s gonna happen right out there…in the ring…for the whole world to bear witness.
Instead of putting up any type of resistance, Gavin stretches his way to his feet then motions to the door.
Gavin: After you…
It pains Tabitha to leave her palace surrounded by a variable harem of fawning clients, but that’s just what she does. But before she departs, her eyes shoot back to the masked individual holding the World Title belt in hand.
Tabitha: If anything happens to that belt, I swear to God what I do to the Chases will look like a love peck compared to what happens to you.
Nathan: Come on Adams….You’re only making this worse on yourself.
With a chair occupying his hands Nathan is forced to use his foot to kick in every single door in the corridor. He briefly scans the interior, searching for any signs of Adams or the End Effect.
Nathan: HEY!
That same man of extra olive oil skin…the stage-hand who was verbally victimized by Tay-Tay earlier in the night, may find himself physically victimized by Creed. He no doubt takes notice of this…hence why his eyes have darted to the chair in Creed’s clutches and the fury in his eyes.
Stage-Hand: Erm…yes, Mr. Creed?
Nathan: Do you know where Adams and the End Effect are?
Stage-Hand: What am I…On-Star?
That chair he pensively gazes at, raises by mere centimeters…just enough for the Stage-Hand to lose the base in his tone.
Stage-Hand: Actually yes…
Nathan: Yes what?
Stage-Hand: Yes…Sir?
Nathan: Where did you see them headed?
Instead of talking, he gestures, pointing down the hall towards the parking structure. Creed embarks towards the parking lot….so determined to drive the chair into the flesh of Adams over and over and over again until there’s nothing left but bones churned to dust.
Stage-Hand You’re welcome!
He goes back to texting and opts to ignore the ungrateful Creed.
The doors to the make-shift chapel vibrate as an incredible force slams into them.
Whitman: AHHH! Her Majesty’s Crown!
Now the door opens with a simple twist of the knob, revealing Simon Cagero standing in the hallway with head judgmentally shaking…judgmentally shaking towards Whitman, who is bent forward clutching at his shoulder.
Simon: That really wasn’t necessary.
Whitman: I believe I may have damaged my clavicle.
Simon: If your lucky.
Attention draws from the pain coursing through Whitman’s arm, to the whimpers emanating from the chapel. Both Simon and Whitman instantly draw their focus to the giant crucifix at the forefront of the church…but it’s not Jesus mounted upon it…it’s a tied up and exhausted Lois. She went and tuckered herself out fighting against the straps that keep her contained to the cross’s surface. But the mere sight of Whitman perks her up, causing her eyes to light brightly and for the fear to fade.
Lois: CLARENCE! Oh thank God…my prayers have finally been answered.
Whitman: You’re X-Class Champion is here, Dear. You have nothing more to fret about.
He rushes towards the cross and his precious Lois, scaling the steps to the dais just beneath the two. As he begins to pry the duct tape from around her ankles….Simon finds himself unable to pry his eyes from the sight before him.
Simon: Wow…she really is the spitting image of Taylor Chase.
There is no attempt made to stifle the smile on Simon’s face.
Whitman: Are you going to continue standing there gawking like a loon, or will you help me?
Simon weighs the pros and cons of either option.
The entrance lyrics of Gavin Taylor continue to pipe through the PA system….and the crowd is also piping in with a visceral response regarding the two figures currently in the ring…one toting a contract and ink-pen in her hand. Tabitha Silverstone holds a lot more though, including ALL the cards…and now she’s about to pull an ace from her sleeve.
Tabitha: Ladies and gentlemen, tonight I promised I would no longer be ignored…And you’ve seen the first steps taken to ensure just that…But I believe my efforts have to be both accelerated AND escalated. I have to keep the Chases’ on their toes…make them realize that the longer they go without fulfilling my demands, the worse it’s ultimately going to be on them.
Tabitha finally turns focus to Gavin, who has been impatiently stewing in the corner this whole time.
Tabitha: But enough about me. Unlike Adam Chase I’m not going to hog the spotlight from my clients…especially my NEWEST acquisition…THIS man…the All-Star…the great Gavin Taylor.
The fans justifiably boo.
Tabitha: A man who has signed himself over to a winning team. I have to applaud you Gavin, for seeing the writing on the wall. That the Chase family is spiraling into oblivion while I’m taking my own agency straight into the stratosphere. And it’ll keep reaching new heights with guys like you rallying beneath my banner.
She turns things fully over to Gavin, who has no trouble running off at the mouth when under the spotlight.
Gavin: Babe…don’t undersell it…I’m gonna take your Agency past that stratosphere and into the heavens. I’m through being held back by my own Agent, I’m ready to take the next step, I’m ready to shatter glass ceilings, I’m ready to hold that World Heavyweight Title.
Tabitha: And with me backing you…you’ll get all of that Gavin…and so much more. Now all that’s left to do is sign on the dotted line.
The contract is placed back in Gavin’s hands as he continues to examine all the fine print. He taps the pen against his teeth while closely scrutinizing every inch of the document.
Gavin: Everything looks to be in order here.
Tabitha: Of course it is…I’m anything but not meticulous.
Gavin: Good…I like to hear that…Adam was never the greatest when it came to paper work.
Tabitha: Then sign it and put Adam Chase in your past forever.
The pen is placed to the document, Gavin about to put down his signature with all the necessary flourishes. And Tabitha, she watches with the biggest of grins, realizing she’s about to steal Taylor Chase’s brother in law away from her, just like Tay-Tay stole her client by ending the career of Sebastian Knight.
Gavin: Hmmm…I noticed one issue here…
He looks up from the document, which now has one of his fingers wedged against it.
Tabitha: Well I assure you any discrepancy can be….
Gavin: I noticed your nothing but a heinous, self righteous BITCH!
Tabitha eats crow and chokes on it.
Tabitha: W…wha…what?
Gavin: And I don’t sign with BITCHES…
The pen is thrown into the stands while the contract is torn up then tossed into the air. As it reduces to confetti above Tabitha’s head she desperately tries to grab it and piece it all back together.
Tabitha: You’re making a huge mistake!
Gavin: No, you made a big mistake thinking I would ever turn my back on my family…And you made an even bigger mistake when you turned you back on the World Heavyweight Championship.
Silverstone stops trying to piece together the contract, and starts trying to unscramble the words Gavin just shouted at her…The deciphering isn’t done quick enough, making the parties backstage lose their patience with Silverstone.
Chase: What’s the matter, Tabitha? Having trouble following the bouncing ball?
Tabitha: What is this?
Upon the Cartel-tron we see Adam Chase…looking as if he’s on cloud nine.
Chase: Let me help you read between the lines, Dear. Gavin there, he never had any intention of leaving my agency. He knows how to pick a winner, and Tabby, that’s something you are not. Because once again you’ve been bested tonight….bested by a superior agent, and a superior mind. You really shouldn’t been so quick to trust Gavin…and to trust that he didn’t have the GPS function on his cell-phone turned on when he went to meet you backstage…
Tabitha is at the point of blowing a blood vessel.
Chase: Which made it pretty easy to track you down…and to insert another double agent…One who would got their hands on something you never should have let out of your sights.
The camera pulls back enough to reveal a masked and track suit wearing individual at Adam’s side…though the most important piece of attire happens to be the World Heavyweight Title over their shoulder. No one pays attention to the gold when the mask rips away and reveals the face of Brittany Lohan.
Silverstone is shaking mad.
Chase: You should have learned by now, Tabitha, that you don’t mess with the Chase family. You just don‘t have the skills sweetheart.
Lohan winks towards Silverstone and then holds up the World Heavyweight Championship to a surprisingly loud and sustained pop.
Tabitha: No! NOOOO! NOOOOOO!!!
Gavin walks around the screeching harpy, unleashing a vastly different tune, a loud chuckle at her expense. He slips through the ropes to the apron and then waves goodbye to the outraged Silvestone, who from her knees on the canvas begins to rip hair from her skull.
Susie: Looks like this didn’t work out too well for Tabitha. She lost the biggest sparkly of them all.
There is a vehicle in the distance, a giant, almost military style hummer, complete with camouflage paint job and all. One complete with a sunroof, which Jackson Adams is sticking his head out of. He leans upon his forearms and cocks his head to the side as he watches the inbound Creed.
Nathan: You little pisser, you made the biggest mistake of your life tonight.
A steel chair is flung at the back of the hummer, bouncing off its bumper. Jackson, who already had his taste of the steel earlier tonight, is not looking for second helpings. The hummer starts with Brandy Danielle visible behind the driver’s wheel, while Rain occupies the passenger seat.
Jackson: Sorry Nathaniel, but I’m fed the fuck up with you…with Cruze…with all of it. It’s time to hitch my wagon to a group who can get things done around here, and who are all on the same page.
Creed: You’re going to get what’s coming to you…all of you…..
Jackson: Not tonight we won’t.
The hummer speeds away with Creed unable to catch up no matter how fast he runs.
Jackson: See you around Nathaniel….sooner rather than later I’m sure.
Creed: You can count on it you bloody kipper!
The End Effect make a hasty retreat from the MGM Grand and leave a fuming Creed behind. He picks up the chair and flings it into a nearby cement column, watching as it bounces off.
Gary: Excuse me, Creed.
Though he’s pretty much at his most emotionally wrought state, he turns to address The Maniac and Brooklyn Smith, both of which seated on the hood of a nearby car.
Gary: But it seems to me that you might need a little help.
Nathan: What’s it to you?
Gary: Well, Creed…with the Blacklist, and the End Effect being thorns in your sides, it would only make since that you find a little back up of your own, and since we’re recruiting solders to aid us in the purging fire this company desperately needs….well…I’m sure you can see where this is going.
As if Creed didn’t have enough on his mind already….but even though he’s just a bit delusional with anger at the moment, he knows that help WILL be needed if he wants to dispatch the groups of Blacklist and End Effect.
A bag of ice brings down the inflammation in Desmond’s cheek, but nothing will reduce the pain felt in his heart. Not the warmth and coziness of his office, or the comfort of sitting back in his leather chair, or the open briefcase on the surface of the desk, holding the Evolution Championship within.
Drake: Earlier this evening I made a vow….A vow to name a BRAND NEW Evolution Champion. But not without first asking my roster to prove themselves, to step up their game and show me what they were willing to sacrifice. We’ve had four wheelers, kisses, strip teases, and managerial contracts all put up for grabs this evening, but in the end there was one sacrifice made that I couldn’t possibly overlook.
Finger tips slide over the plate of the championship.
Drake: Mika Kozlov, Lukas Montgomery, and Aaron Harrison….the three of you have embodied sacrifice…and have gambled everything for the betterment of this company, hence why I‘ve given you such lucrative job titles within the ranks of the IWC. Though now…now I‘ve got a different function in mind for the lot of you. Mika, Lukas, Aaron, the three of you will serve as the forbearers of the Evolution Championship. I am announcing at this very moment, that the Blacklist are the Evolution Champion.
The briefcase is snapped shut and the latches popped in place.
Drake: But let’s move onto another championship…..the big one boys and girls…the World Heavyweight Title.
He waits for the obligatory cheap pop, but there is none..
Drake: In a matter of moments, the World Championship will at last be defended. In a match that should appease the fans, the roster, and the Board of Directors all in the same. A match that was perfectly designed to ensure that the likes of Taylor Chase and Orlando Cruze pay their ultimate recompense.
Images begin to overtake the screen foreshadowing what in a matter of moments promises to be an earth shattering confrontation…one that will not sit well with the fans, the roster, or the Board of Directions all in the same. The images relate to Orlando Cruze, Taylor Chase, Brittany Lohan and Frankie Paradise standing on the stage at the conclusion to Awakening, with the Icon holding up the World Heavyweight Championship.
Drake: The World Heavyweight Championship has motivated actions deemed uncharacteristic of both Orlando Cruze AND Taylor Chase….It inspired them to perform acts of a heinous and truly reprehensible nature.
A roaring Simon Cagero is not expressing elation, but agony as his leg is swung into the steel post by the Icon. Another individual who laments sheer and unbridled pain is Christian Savior, who finds his hands shackled behind his back as he’s hit with a version of the Misery by Legion. And ultimately we see a blood soaked Rose choking the life out of Frankie Paradise before the stele knee brace of Tay-Tay travels right into Savior’s temple, knocking her right out.
Drake: So many horrible…heinous and downright deplorable acts committed in the pursuit of World Championship glory….But it was ultimately these desires to hold the title that has led Chase and Cruze down a path of self destruction.
As Orlando stands over the back of the rightful World Heavyweight Champion, holding Rose Savior in place for an canning, he instead finds his own head the recipient of a strike from the Singapore staff. The cane bashes in Orlando’s brains and leaves him incapable of keeping Aaron Harrison from stealing the World Heavyweight Championship, standing on the stage where he holds the gold above his head. The voice of the IWC’s very own monster can be heard in the background.
Harrison: My goal has never changed here in the IWC….and it’s not to be World Champion…it’s not to be a hall of famer…it’s not even to be accepted as the best amongst my peers….it’s to destroy Orlando Cruze…To cure this company’s plague….to be the monster slayer.
Tay-Tay grips a cane over the body of a kneeling Orlando, about to bring the weapon down over his head while Harrison discusses the particulars of that infamous contract the Icon signed.
Harrison: No disqualifications….a hand picked referee….AND….your hands Taylor…they’ll be cuffed.
Cameras return to Drake, his spine turned to the camera as he stands in the corner, hands interlocked behind the small of his back and eyes raised towards his giant self portrait upon the wall.
Drake: At last a paragon of virtue, a stalwart of self righteousness, a true believer rose from the masses of the persecuted and the tortured. The acts of Taylor Chase and Orlando Cruze created Aaron Harrison…His presence wouldn’t be needed if the actions of Chase and Cruze weren’t so reprehensible, weren’t so grotesque.
If a halo could be digitally added to the footage of Harrison, it would be…though he’s clearly more entitled to devil horns. The levels of Aaron’s sociopathy are so satanic in nature, there almost difficult to be relived. Denile Partis hanging from neck by noose. Fire shooting from the carcass of a smoldering Kellen Jefferies. A taser being wedged to the orbital socket of Hurse resulting in the explosion of his eye. Rose Savior loaded on a stretcher covered in layers upon layers of her own blood. These are just a few of the acts committed by the Blacklist…all to force Orlando’s hands…to force him to compete.
Drake: And at long last the chance has come…the opportunity has arisen for Aaron Harrison to be this company’s savior.
A handcuffed Orlando is driven skull first into the canvas with a bulldog driver by Harrison…before cutting to Aaron shattering a Singapore Cane over his knee as he menacingly approaches Taylor Chase….
Drake: Tonight, all the plans, all the scheming and manipulation, it comes down to this moment.
Orlando and Harrison going nose to nose.
Drake: The chance to fix all the mistakes, to set right all the wrongs, it falls unto the more than capable shoulders of our messiah, Aaron Harrison.
Harrison shattering the cane, using the cane, and ultimately just threatening others with the cane are all scenes that come and pass. We see him standing on a dock with the World Heavyweight Championship, throwing Christian Savior into the side of an ambulance with a belly to belly suplex, and delivering the shuffle side kick to the skull of a kneeling Orlando. It then cuts to the Blacklist standing over a pile of bodies in the ring and shamefully assaulting Leeland Gaunt.
Drake: Finally the IWC will be cleansed of its demons, and Harrison will be the man who brings about the rebirth….the rechristening…and finally gives you people the hero…and the champion…you truly deserve.
Taylor and Orlando are featured kneeling in the ring and glaring upon the malicious eyes of Harrison on the stage.
The inevitable at long last is here….two police officers standing in the middle of the ring with shackles in clutches.
This is it….the moment…the match that has been anticipated since seemingly the first day the IWC emblem flashed on the screen, Orlando Cruze swerved the crowd by announcing the Evolution Title Tournament, the Blacklist claimed their first victim, and a Savior won the first main event. And another victim, the very man who has made so many bait and switches, arrives on the stage at that very moment. “In the House in a Heart Beat” brings about only the type of pop that Orlando Cruze can generate, a mixture of lung deflating cheers mixed with pensive sighs. Regardless of cheers, boos, or confused indifference, Orlando gets a reaction as he steps through the curtains, bandage crudely covering the open gash in his forehead that still manages to pipe blood down his face.
Susie: As if Porno Lad’s performance moments ago wasn’t inspiring and improbable enough, now we’ve got Orlando Cruze, the Icon, about to compete in his SECOND match tonight…mere minutes after having his head treated like a pinata…That DIDN’T produce candy…Stay calm Susie, stay calm.
Speaking of calm, Orlando looks surprisingly docile as he moves up the steps and to the apron, glaring over the sea of humanity. A lot is on his mind…A LOT. He contemplates how this all came about, how this twisted, curvy road brought them to this ultimate destination, the end of the journey. The path has reached a dead end and now the Icon sees all the signs reading, “No Outlet.” He raises his hands towards the police and they instruct him to turn around before shackling his wrists.
Susie: He’s really going through with it, he’s gonna face Aaron Harrison with his hands cuffed behind his back, all to protect his lovely little Tay-Tay. This is the so sweet I think I suddenly have diabetes.
For months Orlando claimed that he was a martyr, a man who had made multiple sacrifices for the betterment of the IWC, and now he’s literally proving it, about to sacrifice life, limb, his everything on behalf of Taylor Chase and the company he believes in. And the man who will make sure he makes this sacrifice arrives to the lyrics of ‘Monster’ by Skillet, but doesn’t arrive alone. Aaron Harrison, the challenger for the Championship, but more importantly the man who will crush Cruze, moves to the stage flanked by not just Mika Kozlov and Lukas Montgomery, but by Executioner, Jacob Laymon and Billy Mayne, Drake’s eclectic staff known as the Shop.
Susie: Looks like the odds are so in the favor of our new General Manager, who has waited eons for this match to happen, to get his grips around Orlando’s big, bald head, though he’ll need some pretty huge hands to make that capable.
The proportions of Orlando’s head are gonna be even larger thanks to swelling when Harrison puts his fists into it. Under the ropes Harrison rolls, popping up to his feet with sheer malice inhabiting his eyes as they lock on Orlando. Normally Aaron’s expression is all together void of emotion, and his eyes are a blank template, but tonight they are colored by indignation.
Harrison: At last Orlando, at last.
For the first time in as long as we can remember, Orlando looks legitimately concerned, realizing that his hands are cuffed and that Harrison has him in his crosshairs. There will be no more avoidance, no more escape for the Icon, as he finally wages war with the proud representative of the monstrous trio that would make Pennywise and Pinhead envious. But not all parties have yet to arrive for this twisted soiree. Where is Rose Savior? Where?? Though her music now plays over the PA system, the special guest referee does not make her entrance…and why, because the Shop and the Blacklist stand at the end of the ramp and around the ring revealing batons in their grips…ensuring that she will not reach the ring and officiate this confrontation.
Susie: Wait…it looks like Harrison’s friends are making sure that Rose Savior can’t get out here to referee the match. This was all a ploy I guess. That adorable little midget, Drake, just wanted Rose to believe he was giving her that position as special referee so that she’d fall head over heels in love with him, but apparently he never had any intention of actually letting her influence the outcome of this match.
Harrison looks towards Orlando and shrugs before snapping his fingers. That’s when Montgomery valiantly leaps to the apron and removes his warm up jacket, revealing the striped t-shirt on beneath. He throws the coat to the ground and then goes airborne, leaping over the ropes into the squared circle.
Susie: Looks like Lukie, the new head trainer down in our developmental system, is gonna officiate this one.
Harrison now dispatches the officers, who inquire as to rather they should linger just in case he requires use of back up handcuffs. Aaron doesn’t need them, and the sight of the police physically churns his stomach, so they’re sent scurrying and scurrying quickly. Once all outside parties have been cleared, Montgomery turns and gestures for the bell to officially get this no disqualification World Title about under way, with Orlando valiantly stepping into the role Tay-Tay was set to assume. Now he takes on the role of victim, of sacrificial lamb as he steps around the ring, eyes burrowing a hole into the flesh of Harrison. Aaron doesn’t budge as he watches the pacing Icon limbering up his legs, as they’ll be his only defense in this title bout.
Harrison: And to think, Orlando, we could have been friends…best friends.
Orlando suddenly stops pacing and the look of doom and gloom endowing his face transforms into a bright grin.
Orlando: Friends? You don’t know friendship. And you’ll never learn love…Or the extent one will go to for love….
Harrison: Should I bring out some violins?
Orlando: No, but you probably should have let the cops leave another set of handcuffs.
The smile on Orlando’s face widens while Harrison’s head tilts all the more….studying the grin from a different perspective. A car horn blares through the building and the very vehicle that the Brod drove out of the building now comes backing through the curtains off to the side of the stage. It pulls down as far as it can get, almost to the mats surrounding the ring, stopping right beside the end of the ramp.
Susie: Hey…it’s a car…but I’d much rather have TPKid’s riding lawnmower, just because of the spinner rims.
The flushed fans watch as the car comes a stop, drawing in all the parties around the ring like gnats to a bug light.
Harrison: Cute, Orlando….Congratulations, you’re now wearing the only pair of cuffs that were brought to the ring, meaning Tay-Tay won’t have to wear them….not that I truly had any intention of forcing her to wrestle handcuffed, and not that WE have any intention of letting her get to this ring. You’re gonna face me, Orlando, one way or another.
Harrison takes a step towards Orlando, who tentatively moves back but still wears an enormous smile.
Orlando: I….WE…thought you might say something like that.
Harrison: We?
Harrison stops moving and then turns towards the car, shouting for all to hear..but shouting just a second too late.
Harrison: DON’T!
The warning isn’t made in time, because Executioner absent mindedly pops open the trunk and a big kick connects with his temple. Out of the trunk of the car leaps both Silence and Mr. Hush, both individuals crashing into Mayne and Executioner. That’s when the sunroof to the car opens and through it emerges Al, arms sweeping to his sides.
Al: BEHOLD THE POWERS OF PRESTIDIGITATION!
Laymon, Executioner and Mayne are no match for even two thirds of the Black Crusade, who throw their victims around with particular glee. But Mika and Montgomery are a different story. The two Blacklist members pounce on the Black Crusade from behind, beginning to deliver forearms to their backs….turning the tide…for mere moments…right up the point where Unity has decided they’ve seem enough. Down the ramp rushes Yvonne Knight and Kathryn Pearson. Knight leaps up onto the hood of the car, steps across it and then leaps off the trunk into a big diving plancha that connects with Mika and Laymon, knocking the two down to the mats.
Montgomery turns and spots Pearson before she can get the drop on him though. A big grin forms on his face as he winks in the direction of the frightened Kathryn, remembering what Lukas did to her shoulder a few weeks ago. What he’s about to do to her next will be far worse though. He bends down and rushes at her for a spear when Kathryn opens one of the car doors, putting it between her and Lukas. As a result Montgomery smashes right into the car door, popping off and staggering back, absent mindedly into a kick that lands to his jaw, one delivered by Silence.
The buzz saw style kick sends Montgomery collapsing into the trunk of the car. At the same time Mika seems to be getting the better of Mr. Hush, knocking him to the mats with a forearm then backing up so she can get a big running kick to his face. But then Hush slides through her legs, ends up on his knees behind her and delivers a punch so vicious to her rear-end that it sends Kozlov flying forward and be hip tossed by Knight right into the trunk of the car.
Silence then grabs the trunk and slams it shut, trapping both members of the Blacklist inside.
Susie: Payback by the Black Crusade for those ambulance shenanigans last week…Yay…I even get to say shenanigans again…and glitter….and break dancing…Without Dollar out here, my own shackles have been removed…YIPEE!
Harrison rushes towards the ropes to come to the aid of his teammates, and gets half way through the ropes when Taylor Chase leaps the barricade, leaps to the apron at his side and then dives forward with her steel plated knee brace traveling directly into Aaron’s skull.
Susie: Now Tay-Tay’s TKO connects…it connects….it connects! Did she and Orlando just play the Blacklist?
Though she hit the TKO, she didn’t get all of it, otherwise Harrison wouldn’t still be upright and twisting to the center of the ring where he’s drilled to the jaw with the super kick from Orlando.
The jaw shattering shot knocks Harrison to the canvas amidst a reaction that shakes the walls of the MGM Grand.
Susie: YES! Superkick connects…it connects…it connects!
Orlando and Tay-Tay make eye contact, and the two smile as a result. Cruze then slips through the ropes to the apron and gets a running start across it, delivering a big kick to the face of an unsuspecting Mayne, who was standing on the mats outside of the ring. The kick sends Billy flipping completely over backwards and landing on his feet…doing even more damage to the clavicle brace keeping Mayne’s neck supported.
In the meanwhile Laymon and Executioner are being beaten away from the ring by a combined effort of the Black Crusade and Unity….All outside parties removed from this equation….an equation that will not take long to be solved. Taylor throws herself over Harrison’s chest and slaps the canvas repeatedly. But there is no referee to make the count considering Montgomery is trapped in the trunk of the car. That’s when Rose Savior moves through the curtains her striped shirt….and slowly makes her way down the ramp….
Susie: I don’t know rather this is good or bad for Tay-Tay….Hopefully she talked some since into Rose earlier tonight.
Savior slides into the ring across her knees and then just sits there, hands on her hips, examining the pinfall and more importantly the woman making it. She stares into the eyes of Chase, gauging her soul. Once she sees the sincerity, and the lack of arrogance Chase normally exudes, Rose raises a palm and slaps the canvas.
Susie: And she’s making the count…she’s making the count!
The crowd is absolutely amazed that Rose could overlook Tay-Tay’s theft of her World Championship to do the right thing here.
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The fans are already rejoicing, dancing the jig in the stands before their two step turns into frozen postures at the sight of Harrison kicking out of not just the TKO, but the Orlando super kick as well.
Susie: WOW! Totally WOW!
The bell does not chime even though Rose was on the verge of calling for it.
Susie: Did Harrison really just kick out? Guess Tay-Tay didn’t get all of that TKO…cause no one kicks out of that.
Taylor rises to her feet and wants to argue with the speed of Rose’s count, but then spots Orlando shaking his head from ringside and pleading with her to keep her cool. Instead of wasting time arguing with Rose, Chase slaps her knee, and then rushes into the ropes, bouncing off and coming back in at the slowly ascending Harrison for another TKO. She lunges forward but Harrison does something even more shocking, side stepping the knee, catching it and then hooking her around the shoulder. It seems to pain him to do it, knowing it won’t win him any favors with Mika, but out of self preservation he hoists Chase into the air and drops her spine across his raised knee.
The back breaker sends Tay-Tay flipping to her stomach and spread across the canvas as Harrison goes spiraling into the ropes, falling through them to the apron. He doesn’t go for the pin and instead goes for the trunk to the car, trying to pop it open and free his precious Mika and Montgomery.
Orlando comes rushing in though to prevent Harrison from turning the tide back in his favor. But Harrison turns, bends down, catches Orlando’s knees to his shoulder and back drops him through the air, right on top of the steel trunk of the car.
Susie: That wasn’t smart Cruzey…not with your hands cuffed and Harrison being the ultimate strategist.
Orlando rolls off of the trunk grimacing in pain and unable to reach for his battered mid-section due to his cuffs. Aaron is about to go after him but then turns just as Chase comes diving through the ropes, hitting him with a suicide head butt and knocking Harrison onto the trunk of the car.
Susie: Seven…no seven point five.….no…..eight and three quarters!
The crowd is downright orgasmic at the sight of Chase’s big dive taking out the monster, putting him on top of the trunk and putting him out of this bout. Tay-Tay then crawls on top of Aaron and begins to deliver punch after punch after punch to Harrison’s face, causing him to slide down the trunk but his head still remains stretched across the very object keeping Montgomery and Kozlov trapped. Tay-Tay then stands up and steps up onto the hood of the car, turning just in time to leap off into a Bret Hart style double axe handle elbow drop.
The back of Harrison’s head bounces off of the car trunk as a result and his body finally goes twisting into the mats. He rolls across them and ends up grabbing the apron in order to reach his feet. They just get under him when Chase slaps her knee, again signaling for the TKO to the end this and end this right now.
From the trunk she leaps, flying through the air and about to crack Harrison’s head only to have him duck at the last second…But Chase lands on the apron and grabs the ropes, preventing herself from going down. She then spins towards Harrison, and leaps off, landing right on top of Aaron’s shoulders. She drops back and throws Harrison over into the hurricarana, sending him thudding against the mats.
Susie: I think everyone had resolved themselves to the belief that this match would be playing out totally different. That it would be Tay-Tay on the receiving end of this beating…not Harrison.
Aaron rolls across the mats and towards the trunk of the car, weakly reaching out and grabbing the latch to pop it open. But Tay-Tay keeps that from happening, rushing in to continue her onslaught. But much like Cruze, she gets ahead of herself, not realizing that Harrison was luring her in before it was too late. Aaron stands up, side steps Taylor, catches her under the arm and hip tosses her over back first into the steel trunk.
Susie: MEGA YOUCHERS!
Form the hood of the car Taylor arches her back, reaching for her kidneys but being unable to convalesce her injuries because Aaron is right on top of her. He pulls Chase up and across his chest before dropping back, throwing Tay-Tay over his head into a fall away slam that sends her flying all the way down to the mats. Aaron lays on the trunk of the car while Tay-Tay crashes into the thin protective matting, grabbing at her shattered spinal column.
Susie: DOULE MEGA YOUCHERS!
The World Champion reaches for her kidneys as she rolls towards the steps, employing them to slowly reach her feet. That’s when Harrison steps in behind her, and grabs her hair, yanking back on it so that she looks up into the face of the challenger.
Harrison: Stop fighting Taylor…it wouldn’t make Mika very happy….Just go down and stay down…..And I promise you I’ll make this merciful.
Taylor spits right into Aaron’s face but fails to generate an emotional response other than a sigh. He now spins Chase around, hooks both of her arms then snaps back into a double arm DDT. The top of Chase’s head cracks off of the mats and does so rather forcefully before she flops to her back. Aaron then drags her up to her feet and into the ring before sliding in himself. He takes Taylor’s hair, rolls her to her knees, hoists her up to her feet and drops into a second double arm DDT, this one even more forceful than the last.
Chase flops over to her back and looks about as conscious as a stone…and she remains as still as a boulder as Harrison climbs into the cover.
Rose stands back, examining the pinfall, and examining the eyes of Harrison….seeing that they are still as full of menace and malice as ever. In spite of this, in spite of the fact that Harrison left her in puddles of her own blood mere weeks ago, Rose drops down and makes the count.
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It goes against her every fiber to slap the canvas for a third time, but thanks to Tay-Tay’s kick out, that doesn’t happen. Its like the fans have suffered spontaneous human combustion regarding Chase’s inconceivable kick out.
Susie: Holy hallelujah, Chase got a shoulder up.
And it’s that very shoulder that finds its way into Harrison’s clutches. Aaron sits Taylor up and grabs her arm, folding it over behind her back into a modification of the overhead wrist lock.
Now Harrison is going to wear Taylor down painfully and methodically…But Chase isn’t about to let that happen, wedging two feet to the canvas and bridging herself up slowly from the canvas. As thus Aaron uses the grasp on Chase’s wrist to pull her around out of the submission and into a double underhook, setting for the DDT. But Chase grounds herself, wedging feet hard to the canvas….becoming as heavy as a stone. She proves as stubborn as a brick, throwing all weight into Harrison’s ribs and shoving him backwards into the turnbuckle.
Rose clears out of the way in the nick of time, almost being sandwiched between Harrison and the turnbuckle. Ultimately its just Aaron who suffers, hitting the corner with his arms falling over the ropes. Taylor then backs away and is about to get a running start for a leaping knee strike only to have Rose get in her way, demanding to know rather Chase was trying to take her out.
Tay-Tay doesn’t have time for this, pushing Rose aside and then rushing straight at Harrison, leaping into his chest with both knees. But the distraction from the special referee slowed Taylor down too much, allowing Aaron enough time to counter, catching the creases of her knees and then throwing her up unto his shoulders.
Harrison charges out of the corner and drops into a running sit-out power bomb, driving Chase viciously into the canvas. Aaron then leans forward and presses his shoulders to the creases of Chase’s knees, desperate to end this and end it quickly.
Once again Rose makes a very tough choice before ultimately falling to the ring and slapping the canvas.
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Tay-Tay continues to display her stubbornness, launching a shoulder from the ring in the nick of time.
Though Harrison is not prone to emotional outbursts, he methodically begins to approach Rose, questioning the legitimacy and speed of her count. But Rose won’t be backed down…won’t be intimidated. She stands like an Easter Isle statue, staring Harrison down with an equal amount of intensity. Harrison then smirks before returning his focus to a woman he has intimidated in the past, that woman being the World Heavyweight Champion.
He takes Tay-Tay around the neck, applying a front chancery then delivering a knee to the top of her skull….followed by another, and then another. He rolls to his side, pulling Tay-Tay along with him, and then rolls back to the other side, dragging Chase over to her stomach, wearing her down. He eventually swings out to her side and pulls back on her forehead, applying almost modification of the crossface without trapping the arm.
But Chase isn’t about to submit, not after finally fulfilling her lifelong ambition of becoming the World Champion. She wedges her hands to the canvas and begins to stand up when Harrison breaks the crossface, swings around over top of her head and pulls her up into a camel clutch.
Susie: Harrison is just wearing down the champ down…trying to methodically pick her apart one piece at a time and it seems to be effective.
Or does it….yes, Tay-Tay is ailing…yes…her body feels like jello in the arms of Harrison….and yes…Chase is still as stubborn as ever. It takes her everything, but once looking through the ropes into the eyes of Orlando standing outside of the ring, she finds the motivation to push back, right through Harrison’s legs. She then shoves Aaron forward with hands pressed to his rear-end, sending him charging right into Rose. Aaron stops just before he can ’unintentionally’ crack heads with Savior. He then backs up and points towards Chase, insisting she’s secretly trying to take Savior out.
Food for Rose’s already biased thoughts….But Aaron is about to feast on something else. He backs right into a huge back stabber….no….Harrison isn’t pulled down into the attempted double knees back breaker. Instead he reaches back and grabs the hands holding his shoulders then falls forward and flips Chase forward.
Tay-Tay rolls across the canvas to her feet and then finds herself mere inches removed from head butting the special referee. Rose steps back with fists clinched and glaring at a wide-eyed Taylor. The World Champion isn’t about to throw down with Savior though, and instead backs up right into the clutches of Harrison, who catches her around the jaw and prepares for the hangman’s neck breaker.
But Tay-Tay suddenly counters into a backslide.
Susie: Tay-Tay may have it…she may have the championship retained!
Rose bites her tongue and drops to the canvas, trying to be the bigger person.
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Harrison kicks out and then drops to his knees in front of Taylor, who leaps to her feet and goes for a big kick to the face. But Aaron catches her foot before it can connect and then pushes it down, sending Tay-Tay into a full spin. Harrison waits for her to spin around and then charges in with a big lariat that Chase ducks before catching him by the shoulders, leaping into the air and delivering the back stabber.
Aaron stands up straight, arching his spine and grimacing slightly from the pain coursing through his spine. He then turns around to face Chase, who leaps into the air and catches him around the neck for the leaping downward spiral…But Harrison steps through the arms of Chase, ending up behind him and catching her around the jaw, before pulling her down out of the air and into the hangman’s neck breaker.
The back of Chase’s head cracks against the shoulder of the challenger, sending her convulsing across the canvas. Just before she can truly writhe, Harrison climbs into the cover, digging his fingers down her throat with a mandible claw forcing her shoulders down to the ring.
A trembling Savior slides her hands through her hair then drops them to the ring, slapping the canvas.
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To a loud roar Chase launches her shoulder free from beneath Harrison’s weight again.
Susie: Maybe you should just stay down….Tay-Tay….not sure agitating Harrison is that smart an idea. And I know something about smart ideas.
Harrison shoves Chase to her stomach and steps over her back, pulling her up once again into the camel clutch. Rose continues to play along…to fulfill her role as special referee…dropping to her knees in front of the Champion and the Challenger, watching intently to see if Chase will submit. She doesn’t….she can’t….she won’t….she mustn’t let Harrison take what she strived all of her career to achieve. Therefore with a face of unmatched intensity, she begins to crawl knee after knee towards the ropes, pulling Harrison’s body along with her.
This time Harrison breaks the hold of his own accord, to stand at Tay-Tay’s side and drop an elbow to the small of her back. He then rolls to his feet and leaps into the air, coming down seat first across her shoulder blades, physically pushing her face down into the canvas. Chase then rolls across the ring, right into the ropes, which she starts to climb up.
But Aaron turns what should be a source of salvation into a tool for torture. He steps over Chase’s lower back while sticking her head and arms between the middle and bottom rope. He puts Taylor’s arms over the middle cable, while pulling back on her jaw, applying a camel clutch variation. The back of Taylor’s head and neck is wedged against the middle rope as Harrison maliciously applies the submission. And given the fact that this match is no disqualification it means there is nothing that Rose could…even if she wanted to…do…in order to break this normally illegal abuse of the ropes.
There’s only one way this can end, with Tay-Tay mumbling the phrase ’I Quit.’ But she won’t…even as she begins to pass out…she just can’t bring herself to submit and give up the championship she worked all her life to win.
Harrison’s patience does not last forever, breaking the camel clutch then rushing across the ring. He ricochets off the far ropes to get a running start behind a face wash to Tay-Tay, who unfortunately has turned while leaning back first against the ropes. But perhaps he turn wasn’t as ill advised as earlier believed. She reaches out, hooks legs around Harrison’s ankle and drop toe holds him down throat first into the middle rope.
Aaron falls over the middle cable just as Taylor darts into the ropes behind him, ricocheting off, building her own momentum and then diving seat first right into the back of Harrison’s head and neck. His throat snaps off of the top rope and he goes rolling to the center of the ring while Chase slides right through the ropes and to the apron. She then staggers across the apron and scales the nearest turnbuckle, getting to the very top rope where she begins to steady herself.
Aaron gets up ever so sluggishly in the middle of the ring and then spirals right into huge front dropkcik off the top rope delivered by Tay-Tay…one that results in a huge reaction from the crowd. The fans know they shouldn’t…but they just can’t help cheering on Chase as she takes down the big bad…Aaron Harrison…putting him on his back.
Susie: But it looks like Taylor is coming back…She’s fighting off this monster…this fiend…and she doesn’t even need torches or pitchforks to do it….Did you see this coming Magic 8 Ball?….Reply hazy try again…Jesus…is that your only response?
Taylor rolls away from Harrison instead of towards him to get the pin. She gets her elbows and knees beneath her, forcing herself up in spite of her body telling her to stay down. Harrison’s ailing body is already upright, turning just as Tay-Tay stands up and delivers big kick to the back of his knee, bringing him down to all fours. Chase then steps around in front of him and steps in, delivering a thrust kick that is all types of devastating, echoing throughout the MGM Grand and reverberating through the head of the challenger, putting him on his back.
Chase then steps towards the turnbuckle, scaling it slowly…oh so slowly…much to her detriment. She gets to the top rope and turns, glaring down at the near comatose Harrison then flipping forward through the air into the 450 splash…but Aaron suddenly rolls right out of her path…As a result Chase has to duck her head, rolling forward across the canvas straight to her feet. She turns just as Aaron rushes in then responds by leaping into the air, catching Harrison around the neck and planting him with the leaping downward spiral, putting Harrison’s face into the canvas.
He bounces off…bell rung…and flips to his back, sprawled across the ring just as Taylor crawls towards the turnbuckle. She slides through the ropes, scales them and ends up on the top cable with Orlando cheering her on, watching with such pride.
Now Taylor flips through the air and comes crashing down with the 450 right into Harrison’s raised knees.
All the air is knocked right out of Chase’s body…causing her to grimace with pain and reach for her ribs while Harrison swoops in, takes both of her arms, hooks them and drags her to the center of the ring.
Susie: If you have small children, turn them away from the TV right now.
Though he might be ailing, Harrison throws Taylor up into a double underhook piledriver only to have the champion flip up and onto Aaron’s shoulders, before snapping back into the hurricarana. She ends up seated on top of Aaron’s chest while holding down the creases of the challenger’s knees. The whole building is alive with raucous responses as Tay-Tay closes in on the retention of her title.
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And the hand comes down into a third slap of the canvas…only to stop mere inches from connecting because Harrison kicks out, sending Chase rolling over backwards.
She then scrambles back into her opponent though, or more accurately, the creases of his knees. She grabs them and then flips forward into a jackknife pin.
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Aaron rolls over sideways, ending up pulling Chase to her stomach and chest with Harrison stretched over her back. He then reaches down, hooking both her arms, lunging to his feet, pulling Chase along with him and then hoisting her up and dropping her down skull first into the canvas with the double arm piledriver.
Susie: I think Harrison might have turned Tay-Tay into a human turtle…Hopefully one more entertaining than Dana Carvey in Master of Disguise.
Chase is out…she’s out cold and Harrison is well on his way to securing the biggest win of his IWC career. He crawls into the cover, hooks a leg and then hooks the other with a leg of his own, making sure there is no way for Chase to kick out. Rose swallows her pride, falls to the ring and slaps it to declare a new World Champion.
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And it is over…a NEW World Heavyweight Champion….will NOT be crowned just yet…cause Chase was able to get a shoulder off the ring and into the air.
Susie: A-MAZE-ENG!
The crowd is slapping the barricades and stomping their feet in response to this unthinkable kick out accomplished by Taylor…keeping the World Championship in her possession…at last not literally. Aaron cries foul, getting to his feet and turning towards the referee, stepping into her so that his chest knocks her back into the ropes. Rose turns away from Harrison and smiles as he physically imposes his will upon her.
Harrison: It serves you best to end this now, Rose….Unless you want me to finish what I started on your husband….
The magic word was uttered and leads to a big outburst from Rose, who goes airborne, catching him around the neck and delivering the Black Rose.
Susie: CUTTER!
Aaron flips over to his back, spent and left primed for the pin….which is exactly what Taylor is going for at that very moment. She climbs desperately towards Aaron and throws an arm across his chest with Orlando watching almost teary eyed. Rose contemplates her choice then settles, falling to the ring and slapping it.
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Her hand drops for the three but then stops…stops mere centimeters removed from the ring. Taylor rises to her knees in celebration of her title defense before realizing that Rose didn’t make the third and decisive slap of the canvas, and instead is flying knee first right into her temple. The knee strike sends Chase collapsing to her back with Rose landing beside her, wearing an expression of malice.
Susie: And then a knee to Tay-Tay! Rose might be the worse referee ever.
Savior takes a moment…and only a moment to survey her destruction…leaving both Chase and Harrison laying in the center of the ring. She then rolls to the outside, walking right past Orlando who watches her with wide eyes, all together helpless to do anything regarding the actions of Savior.
Susie: Rose came, she destroyed, and she left. What a night she‘s had.
Orlando’s eyes transfer from Rose, to Tay-Tay, who is trying her best to get up…but after taking the knee to the temple her best just isn’t good enough. So she digs even deeper….deeper than the Mariana trench. The crowd is very supportive as Taylor gets her fists under her and then at long last gets her knees under her. She pushes herself up to a kneeling base when a shuffle side kick drills her directly to the temple, giving her a bitter taste of her own medicine.
The pill does not go down easily, but Taylor does, ending up stretched across her back with Harrison falling over her sternum, on the cusp of conquering Chase and ensuring that he gets the World Heavyweight Championship….as well as an eventual showdown with Orlando.
The Icon pleas with Taylor to get up, begging her to kick out, but it all may be in vain as down the ramp rushes Desmond Drake, adorned once again in a child’s large referee shirt.
Susie: And here comes the Garbage Pail kid.
Right past Orlando scurries Drake, who rushes up the apron and pauses a mere few inches from the Icon, winking to the former President. He then slips through the ropes while Cruze drops to his back, trying to pull his cuffed wrists around in front of him, bending his knees to get them under his feet.
But it’s the last act of a desperate man, who cannot aid Taylor in time to keep Drake from costing her the World Title.
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But Taylor doesn’t need Cruze, she doesn’t need anyone, getting her shoulder up within seconds of Drake’s hand slapping the canvas for a third time. He watches longingly as Chase rolls away from Harrison, who merely shakes his head.
Harrison: That wasn’t very smart, Taylor.
Drake: Just finish her, Aaron…
Harrison sneers in the direction of the IWC President and then grabs the hair of Chase, slowly pulling her up to her knees and then dragging her head into a front chancery before hooking both arms, setting up for that lethal double underhook face buster. The Hybrid Theory is about to connect when….
STATIC
Susie: Oh shit.
Everything begins to flicker, the lights, the cameras, cell-phones, the monitor embedded into the announce table…It’s all pixilated. Why? Clarity. Everything becomes evident once the house lights rise with an unnatural red luster and reveal the menace that is Legion standing in the midst of all the chaos within the ring. But if his presence isn’t hair raising and spine shivering enough, to make matters even more fearful, he has a target within his clutches, one wrapped with light-tubes, and that target just so happens to be IWC’s authority figure, Desmond Drake.
Susie: It’s the Masked McGoober…and he’s got…he’s got Drake.
Harrison kneels on the canvas a few feet away, leaning against the ropes and watching the N.H.B Champion hold Desmond on his shoulders, body entirely wrapped in tubes.
Drake: Aaron, help me….help me!
Harrison: Why?
Every fan in attendance rejoices as Drake is thrown into the air, caught by the throat and driven down into the canvas with the Misery II. Desmond’s body isn’t the only thing that implodes, so to does all the tubes wrapped around his body. The most gruesome of scenes plays out like a snuff film in front of horrified eyes. Glass dispersers through the air and tears through Drake’s flesh, ripping away his skin in not shreds but chunks.
Susie: Legion has just murdered the manipulative dwarf.
Indeed, that seems to be the case, cause a bleeding Desmond hasn’t moved even an eye lash after that incredibly sick and twisted maneuver unleashed by the dreaded N.H.B Champion. Though Legion feasibly could wrench life from Harrison’s body, he doesn’t even so much as glance at Aaron, he just eyes the diminutive despot lifelessly strewn across the canvas.
STATIC
The distortion and brief blackout that ensues allows Legion to slip away under the cloak of darkness. When the lights rise, they cast their normal radiance without the eerie red hue. The only red hue visible at this point is the blood seeping from the warped body of Drake. NOW Harrison acts, after deliberately doing nothing to aid Drake.
Aaron’s sights are set on Taylor, swooping in and locking his hands around her hair when she drops back, launching a leg right into the top of Harrison’s head. The kick sends Aaron staggering back but not going down. Chase then rolls to her side and leaps into the air, delivering an enzugari to the temple. Harrison goes spiraling across the ring with Chase building a lot of momentum….momentum she crests right into the leaping knee strike. The fans watch, not with elation, but despair as Taylor’s legs are caught in mid-air, she drops to her back and Harrison tries to step through in order to apply his sickening submission, the No More Words.
Chase turns from one side to the other, trying her best to avoid being trapped in this submission by her diabolical challenger. She then scoots right over the glass scattered across the canvas after the Misery II, plucking a shard right off of the canvas. As Aaron bends down to get the submission properly applied, Taylor lunges forward and jabs the glass into his face.
The shard digs into Harrison’s flesh and causes him to release the sharpshooter, stepping back and swiping his palms down his face. He almost goes over as he clutches at his lacerated skull, which is about to hurt even more when Chase flies straight into him with the TKO yet again.
She connects, with the canvas, when Harrison catches her inbound knee and her chest, shoving her down with a big spine buster right on top of the glass shards she used to save herself from the submission. Chase’s spine collides with the glass and her body arches from it, revealing tiny fragments embedded into her skin.
Susie: Now Chase doesn’t have to go far to find her reflection…just has to grow those eyes in the back of her head I hear Dollar talking about so frequently.
Glass lines the spine of Chase, who surprisingly doesn’t opt to go for the pin, not that it would matter with there being no referee. So instead he rolls to the outside of the ring and lifts the tarp into the air, reaching beneath the squared circle for something contained in a black sack. From the sack a taser is removed that has the crowd reacting with waves of dread.
Susie: Yay, Aaron’s got his own sparkly. Why does everyone get one but me?
Harrison is about to put Taylor away for good this time, and mercifully as well, considering the taser will instantly quell her uprising. Chase turns to her elbows and knees with glass fragments dropping from her flesh as she tries, tries, tries to stand up and Harrison swoops in with the taser at the ready. Orlando, who has somehow managed to get his arms and cuffed wrists in front of him, screams for Chase to watch out…but it might be too late.
The taser is swung towards Chase, but she steps back, avoiding it and delivering a kick right to Harrison’s forearm, causing him to drop his weapon to the canvas. He turns away from Chase, grabbing at his forearm but its his neck that should be what he watches for, because Taylor steps forward and applies the rear naked choke.
She just begins to get it locked in when Harrison suddenly drops to his knees, flipping her over his head and down to the canvas. She rolls right across it to a kneeling base when Harrison swoops in and grabs her by the hair.
Harrison: It didn’t have to be this way, Tayl….
What shuts Harrison up? The taser wedged directly to his stomach, shooting electrical currents all throughout his body. The gyrating Aaron tumbles to his knees as Taylor continues to pump him full of electricity. She finally takes the taser away, throws it across the canvas then lunges knee first into the temple of the challenger….the steel knee brace cracks Aaron upside the head and puts him on his back.
Susie: The TKO…it connects…it connects…it connects.
The knock out shot leaves Harrison strewn across the canvas and Chase crawling desperately into the cover. Both legs are hooked, and the crowd is figuratively hooked at the sight of Chase pinning the most reprehensible and repugnant man on the planet. But the referee situation has yet to be resolved…at least not until Orlando slides into the ring and with shackled wrists grabs Desmond’s hand. He rolls the midget to his stomach and then lifts his limp hand into the air, using Drake’s palm to slap the canvas once…twice….and three times. There is not an occupied chair in the crowd, every fan is upright and rejoicing.
Susie: SHE’S DONE IT!
A standing ovation is justifiably given to the World Champion, who preserved through everything, absolutely everything, including odds of an insurmountable variety to achieve victory here tonight. Orlando immediately crawls across his knees and across glass in order to take her hand into his own and lead the conquering champion to her feet. He lifts her arm high…deservingly high above her head. Chase can barely stand, but nothing is going to keep her from celebrating this moment.
Tay-Tay: I….I did it?
Orlando nods in confirmation.
Tay-Tay: I….I….did it….I did it…I DID IT!
It takes every last vestige of strength summoned from deep within to leap into the air, embracing this victory. Cruze steps back clapping as best he can with hands shackled. But there is one thing missing from this truly feel good moment, and that’s the World Heavyweight Championship. Problem solved…by the ultimate problem solvers, Adam Chase, Gavin Taylor and Brittany Lohan. They all three step down the ramp, but not alone, because Broderick Chase is also in tow, and he’s carrying the World Heavyweight Championship belt.
All four figures slide into the ring and with title in hand Broderick approaches his daughter, handing the belt to its rightful owner.
Chase takes it with a tear in her eye and then raises the championship above her skull to a rousing response. The Brod then pulls her in, gives her a hug and a kiss on the cheek before stepping back so she can have her spotlight. But wait…according to Cruze there’s STILL something missing here….something not quite right about the whole situation…which is why he STEALS the World Title right out of Chase’s clutches.
Susie: Uh-oh, spaghetti-O.
Everything suddenly becomes tense, as Orlando stands there with the World Heavyweight Championship draped over his forearms, longingly staring at the reflection that stares right back from the polished surface of the gold. The belt that has long been a staple of Orlando’s career now rests…rests right in Cruze’s arms….reunited with him at long last.
But the reunion doesn’t last long, considering that even with shackled hands, Orlando approaches the celebrating Chase and places the World Championship around her waist, fastening it in the back.
Susie: And Cruzey finally does the ring thing, he passes the torch, or the championship to be more accurate.
Orlando steps back clapping along with every fan and every member of Chase’s family and entourage. Taylor, who is just so overcome with emotion, only has one thing to say.
Tay-Tay: I DID IT! I DID IT! I DID IT!!
Chase leaps around with the World Championship wrapped around her waist and her arms swinging towards the heavens. But now SHE’S the one who stops and stops cold, finding herself eyeing the Icon, face to face with her love. Once their sights intertwine, she changes her tune.
Tay-Tay: WE did it! WE did it!
Orlando: WE did it! WE did it!
Now everyone in the ring repeats Chase and mirrors her enthusiasm, watching as Tay-Tay rushes at the ropes, leaps onto the turnbuckle and begins to slap the World Championship wrapped about her waist. All of this is done under the attentive gaze of Harrison, who sits with back wedged to the diagonal corner that Chase is celebrating in. He watches with a dribble of blood streaming down his face…a flow that ends at his upturned lips, because Aaron is smiling…not in response to Chase’s victory, but the body stretched motionless across the canvas at his side….Desmond Drake…who has now been removed from the equation, meaning power and control shifts to the GM of New Age, the Head Trainer, AND the NEW General Manager, Aaron Harrison…The Blacklist now at the helm.
Susie: What a match and what a night. Taylor Chase retains the sparkliest thing I’ve ever seen and got to play with a taser too! And she gets to decide rather to see her reflection in the belt or Orlando’s bald scalp.
The reaction continues to be deafening at the sight of Orlando, Broderick, Adam, Gavin and Brittany saluting the World Heavyweight Champion. And on that note Upping the Ante drawls to a….nother backstage segment.
The sound of the rejoicing fans can even be heard filtering into the subterranean dwelling of one Mr. Gaunt. He sits on his knees in the center of the very sigil that trapped Ba’al for only a few moments. He gazes down into the blood that his fingers swipe across, drawing it away from the cement so that he can get a closer examination.
Mr. Gaunt?
Into the feint light of the candles steps Kitty Buehler, emerging from the dense shadows. Leeland doesn’t even turn to acknowledge her.
Mr. Gaunt: Mrs. Buehler.
Kitty: Sorry to disturb you, but I spent a lot of time tracking you down here tonight….
Mr. Gaunt: Then don’t squander anymore of your time and state your purpose.
Naturally Buehler is tentative to declare her intent, choking on her words.
Kitty: I….I just want an explanation is all.
Mr. Gaunt: An explanation you say? You feel as if one is owed to you?
Kitty: Well….yeah…I just NEED to know..
Mr. Gaunt: As long as my acts continue to swell the ranks of your congregation, what does it matter to you?
She is a bit bolder and more declarative.
Kitty: How did you know where Ba’al was earlier tonight?
Even though Gaunt doesn’t feel obligated to answer, he does indulge Buehler’s need for an explanation.
Mr. Gaunt: When one tampers with other worldly forces it empowers you with an unnatural clarity of vision.
The answer creeps Kitty but she continues to dig deeper.
Kitty: And why did you have me send Lois Prince to Ba’al’s hiding place?
There is no quick reply from Gaunt, who is now in the process of removing the blood from his fingers by swiping it across a small Petri-dish retrieved from his pocket.
Mr. Gaunt: I needed her to be captured, Mrs. Buehler, so that Mr. Whitman could ultimately rescue her, removing any doubt in Mrs. Prince‘s mind that Mr. Whitman can keep her safe and secure.
Kitty: But…but why?
Mr. Gaunt: Mr. Whitman and Mrs. Prince are destined for one another, and I must see that destiny realized.
Kitty: But….
Mr. Gaunt: Mr. Whitman and Mrs. Prince MUST end up together…They MUST.
The blood in the petri-dish is turned from side to side as Mr. Gaunt gets a closer look at it.
FADE TO BLACK
IWC 