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In a flash we get a brief look at the IWC emblem while a number of IWC combatants appear in the background, past, present and perhaps future. Running the gamut from Daemon Frost, Chapel, Nathan Creed, to Johnny Kingdom, Robin Brooks, Silencer, before wrapping up with Frankie Paradise, Taylor Chase, Rose Savior and an eerie red hue surrounding Legion.

ORLANDO CRUZE

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

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

Sparkles: SHUSH! I think I heard something.

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

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

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

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

Lovejoy: Oh….uhhh…hi.

At last the rolling cameras are acknowledged.

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

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

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

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

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

Lovejoy: Sparkles and I are just hanging out here…

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

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

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

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

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

Lovejoy: Yep. Orlando has remained tight lipped…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cheers, and lots of them.

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

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

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

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

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

Al: A SPLENDIFEROUS IDEA!

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

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

Boos, and lots of them.

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

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

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

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

Al: A THOUSAND APOLOGIES…

Interrupts Al after a brief aside with Mr. Hush.

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

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

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

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

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

Al: EXCEPT FOR THAT BIG STICK…HAHAHAHA!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The one free hand is used to palm his face.

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

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

Mr. Gaunt: I really wish you would.

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

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

Laymon: You do this Executioner.

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

Executioner: Grrrrr?

He shrugs his shoulders after making the grunt.

Executioner: Grrr…grrr….Grrrr!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mr. Gaunt: Sure it wasn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dollar: That’s Adidas, you brainless twat.

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

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

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

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

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

Susie: So is his body odor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dollar: Epic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Susie: Apparently it’s not break dancing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dollar: If only…if only.

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

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

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

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

Susie: These three really need some stress release candles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tick-tock…tick-tock…tick-tock….

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

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

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

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

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

Yes…love…I hear you…I hear you…

Back to the camera her attention turns.

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

Trailing off as if hearing that voice again.

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

Her one visible eye stares off into the distance.

Tick-tock…tick-tock…tick-tock.

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

Sparkles: What the hell is wrong with you?

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

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

Lovejoy: I was thirsty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lovejoy: I…I can’t….it’s too public…

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

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

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

Lovejoy: Ahhhh…

Sparkles: Jesus Christ, did a pipe just burst?

Lovejoy: Feels almost orgasmic….

Christian: Is he in there!?!

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

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

Christian: Get the hell out of my way.

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

Christian: Ummmm, Orlando?

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

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

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

Orlando: What’s wrong with knocking?

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

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

Said loose fabric is gestured to on his forearm.

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

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

Orlando: Wouldn’t expect anything less.

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

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

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

Orlando: Kinda.

Savior literally has to bite his lip.

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

Blood begins to form in his lower lip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Christian: And what do you mean…compromise?

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

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

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

Christian: What terms?

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

The snicker is not the reaction Orlando was anticipating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Security: Mr. Cruze….

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

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

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

Security Guard: Yes Sir.

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

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

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

Security Guard: Let him in.

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

Security Guard: Yes Sir.

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

Security Guard: I’ll relay the message.

Orlando: You damn well better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Susie: He should pay his electricity bills then…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mika continues her introductions, playing along.

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

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

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

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

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

Dollar: Maybe I was wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dollar: Mind switching chairs with me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dollar: Only you, Susie, only you.

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

Dollar: What is Aaron up to?

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

Dollar: Oh I guarantee it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dollar: Never-Say-Die.

Susie: But I didn’t.

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

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

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

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

Dollar: Forget it.

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

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

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

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

1

2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Susie: Are there no lengths to your ass kissing?

Dollar: None at all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dollar: Christian is absolutely possessed…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dollar: He ALMOST got him with the bat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Susie: You were saying?

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

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

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

Dollar: This is unreal…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Susie: Their taking their turns tearing that ass up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dollar: And NOW what’s going on?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh yeah, women in bondage…HAWT.

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

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

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

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

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

Alright…some girl on girl action…NIIICE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MOMENTS AGO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Susie: You really waste no time do you?

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

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

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

Susie: Don’t you consider this courageous?

Dollar: No, I consider it unbridled idiocy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1!

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

2!

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

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

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

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

1!

2!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1!

2!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1!

2!

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

1!

2!

3!

DING! DING! DING!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dollar: Take the dumb blonde and spare me.

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

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

Claude: Haven’t I made it clear yet?

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

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

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

Claude: FIRE ME!!

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

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

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

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

A receptionist is busy fielding an influx of phone calls.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Can I get a little help, please?

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

Receptionist: Oh…ummm….hello there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beatrice: Okay…

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

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

Desmond: Yeah, I figured as much…HEY!

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

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

For the first time Desmond shows absolute, unflinching determination.

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

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

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

Drake: I thought so.

Greyson: This is never gonna dry.

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

‘MOTHERFUCKERS’

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

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

Lovejoy: I can’t…

Sparkles: Then let someone else blow on it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lovejoy: He barely even touched you.

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

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

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

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

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

Sparkles: Did he?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silencer: Is it?

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

Silencer: Pretty much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sparkles: They’d have pasties over their nipples.

Silencer: Oh…well…problem solved.

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

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

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

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

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

Silencer: What would the winner get?

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

Silencer: I see, let me think…..

Orlando: Simon.

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

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

Orlando: Can we talk?

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

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

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

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

Silencer: Get on with it.

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

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

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

Silencer: Uh-huh…

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

Orlando: Dammit Silencer! This is serious!

The two step up on one another, tension escalating.

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

Silencer: Why does this sound so familiar?

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

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

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

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

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

Silencer: Hold it…

A time out is signaled by Cagero.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silencer: Now if you’ll excuse me…

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

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

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

Sparkles: AHHHH! Seriously Bro!?!

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

Sparkles: Quick, blow me, Greyson.

Lovejoy: Don’t you mean, blow on you?

Sparkles: That too.

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

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

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

Susie: Like a holy hand grenade.

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

Susie: I’d much prefer more Tommy Wiseau.

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

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

I‘m your biggest fan…

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

Don’t worry IWC…I’m your biggest fan.

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

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

A sledgehammer slowly works its way up into her palms.

Tick-tock…tick-tock…tick-tock…

Mika: Here we go again.

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

Mika: We’re streaming…

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

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

Montgomery: The corrupted.

Harrison: The manipulated.

Mika: The STUPID!

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

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

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

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

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

Mika: We put the kibosh on that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mika: That HE should be afraid of US.

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

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

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

MOMENTS AGO

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

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

The footage begins to roll along…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Judgment….

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

Has been made….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The following images are of Bella Swan and Edward Cullen…

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

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

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

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

Frankie: Not Jack and Rose…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taylor: I DID IT! I DID IT!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Porno Lad: WTF…

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

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

Gestures are made in the direction of the ring.

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

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

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

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

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

Katelyn: Are you through?

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

Katelyn: You’ll never understand.

Porno Lad: What?

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

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

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

Porno Lad: Like what?

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

Katelyn: Like winning the World Heavyweight Title.

The revelation has Porno Lad’s head spinning.

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

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

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

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

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

Porno Lad: Holding you back?

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

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

Katelyn: Is Leeland Gaunt.

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

Troubles?

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

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

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

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

Now it’s Porno Lad’s eyes batting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

TPKid: Incarceration. And shower rapes.

Porno Lad: Oh yeah.

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

Porno Lad: Shower rapes?

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

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

TPKid: You know what, just take this….

The balloon is handed to Porno Lad.

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

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

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

Porno Lad: In what way?

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

Porno Lad: How do you figure?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I Get Off“ by Halestorm hit’s the pa system, Kirsta Lewis comes out dressed in all black leather with a whip in her hand. She cracks it a few times as she walks down to the ring. As the fans boo her it never fazes her as she keeps her head held high, tossing her long dark hair from side to side. She knows she is one of the most hatred women in the sport and she lets it be known she likes it that way. At ringside, she raises her hands to the crowd and flips them all off before slipping into the ring.

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

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

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

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

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

Dollar: “Yeah good luck with that…”

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

1!

2!

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

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

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

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

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

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

1!

2!

TPKid kicks out once again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1!

2!

3!

4!

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

5!

6!

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

7!

8!

9!

10!

DING! DING! DING!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Susie: It’s Scary McBoo!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mark: Ladies….ummm…ladies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cassidy: Maybe a few pecks on the neck? A little nibble on the earlobe….before I work my tongue down into your…..

Mark: Ewww….ewwww…

Mark is almost purring like a kitten before at last being spat out like a hairball.

Lohan: Stop playing with him…Cassidy.

From behind Haze is dragged away form Mark by the collar. Brittany acting almost like a feral Momma cat, lifting her offspring by the back of the neck.

Haze: Awww….he was like putty in my hands.

Lohan: I think the only putty is in his pants.

Mark embodies the full on pouty face.

Lohan: You came here for a reason, Mark, so stop shamelessly flirting with someone totally out of your league and get to your questions.

Mark: Questions? Oh…oh yes…questions. I think I have some questions…let’s see…

Fingers are snapped for an entirely different reason.

Mark: Tonight marks the first time you two have teamed together here in the IWC, but from what I’ve gathered through the mighty power of the internet, you two have created a pretty lethal tandem in other companies.

Lohan: Yes…because Cassidy here…

Brittany strokes Cassidy’s hair as Haze interlocks her hands and twists from side to side like a bashful little girl.

Lohan: Is a pet project of mine. She’s been schooled….wonderfully so, in all the areas that count.

Mark: Like what…algebra?

Lohan: Try violence…try manipulation…try BRUTALITY. My tutelage has inspired what was once a meek little girl, to become the fiery hell kitten you‘ve only gotten but a glimpse of over the past few weeks. Tonight though, my vision for Haze will be fully realized, as she stands beside her teacher and gives everyone else a lesson in what she‘s truly capable of. And let‘s say it‘s a bit more than cutting off a few strands of Porno Lad‘s hair.

Haze: Oh, you do know how I aim to please.

Lohan: And you had better, Cassidy…

Mark: Yes, I imagine there be quite a bit of embarrassment, should the two of you, an established tag team be defeated by Porno Lad and Silencer, two men who have never teamed together before.

Lohan: We’re not concerned with wins or losses, Mark, this is our coming out party….

Mark: How hot.

Lohan: Not THAT type of coming out, Mark. Tonight, we go to that ring and use Silencer and Porno Lad as nothing more than sacrificial lambs…slaughtered to show the world the unbridled chaos the two of us are ready to unleash.

Haze: Did the IWC really think this out? Did they realize what they were getting themselves into when they paired student with pupil tonight? I don’t think they grasp what we’re going to do to my love-bug, Porno Lad, and Brittany’s least favorite wrestler, Silencer.

Mark: Lohan, you said Silencer and Porno Lad were just sacrificial lambs, nothing more…But, you’ve got to admit, this match is personal for the both of you…what with Cassidy’s issues with Porno Lad…

Haze: My lil Love Bug.

Mark: Erm…yeah…plus, Brittany, you’ve had plenty of Twitter related banter with Silencer AND just a few weeks ago, you were involved in an attack upon him and his friend Bob.

Lohan: Yeah…you’re point being?

Mark: Hasn’t that created quite the strife between the two of you?

That Cheshire grin is thrown around like a hot potato, now finding its way to Brittany’s face.

Lohan: Mark…do I look angry to you?

He overlooks her, careful not to let his eyes focus too long on her chest.

Lohan: Up here, Mark.

A worried Comeau instantly lifts his eyes back to her face.

Lohan: I’m not the type who gets angry…who allows things to get personal. Anger is an emotion….and emotions are weakness…I don’t let Silencer’s juvenile comments upset me. That attack you eluded to….was done on behalf of my friend, Taylor Chase. And what I do to Silencer tonight…the physical wreck I leave him in….will be done not because its personal…but because it’s what’s best for Tay-Tay.

Mark: Meaning?

Lohan: Jesus, do I have to be so blunt?

Mark: You’re speaking to wrestling fans here, Brittany, subtlety is wasted on them.

Lohan: Good point, Mark, and way to alienate the fan-base.

Mark: Like I give a shit.

Another swig from the flask represses any emotions Mark might be feeling at the moment.

Lohan: Silencer said it himself a few moments ago, he and the rest of those ‘Motherfuckers’ are out to ruin the biggest night in Taylor’s career….Well….

She reaches back and grabs the crowbar out of the locker behind her.

Lohan:…Cassidy and I….

Haze claps giddily.

Lohan: Are going to ensure that DOESN’T happen.

Mark: Well you two will pose a very formidable threat this evening, that’s for sure….BUT…in just a couple of weeks, Cassidy, you’ll be facing Porno Lad again…AND…the TCWC for the Tag Team Titles.

Haze: He-he-he…more opportunities for Porno Lad and I to get all frisky…Can’t wait.

Mark: But on that night you’ll have the chance to choose whomever you want to compete at your side for that Tag Team Championship match. Unfortunately for you though, that partner will not be Brittany Lohan, as she’s already scheduled for the High Stakes Tag….

A finger wedges to his lips, closing them shut.

Haze: You’re so adorable, Mark. You actually think I’m going to tell you who I’m teaming with at Upping the Ante?

A nod is employed as he’s unable to speak.

Haze: That’s not very fun…not fun at all! I think I’ll wait for the big reveal…what do you think Brittany?

Lohan: Sounds smart to me.

Haze: And what do you say to getting this cavalcade of carnage underway?

Lohan: You’re adoring fans await.

With crowbar in hand, Lohan gestures towards the exit but Haze is focused only on the locker.

Haze: Then let’s not keep them waiting.

A gleeful Haze states while turns to reveal the switchblade in her clutches. She seductively slides her finger over the tip of the blade before flipping it shut. Off she skips with weapon in hand, leaving Brittany behind to overlook Mark with repulsion. Once she finally departs Comeau turns to the camera and takes another swig.

Mark: Looks like I picked a bad night to try and cut back on hard liquors. But yeah…Lohan and Haze versus Porno Lad and Silencer…it’s next peoples. Things are about to get crrraaaaaazzzyyy.

STATIC

Apparently Comeau was right on in his speculation, because almost immediately the view changes to that same lady seated in a very poorly lit hall, in front of the wall sparse of decorations. This time she’s all hunched over, her well defined spinal cord jutting out from her midnight blue gown.

Tick-tock…tick-tock…tick-tock…IWC….is that you?

There are a barrage of flashes, intermittent cryptic images dispersed amongst shots of various IWC wrestlers, unfortunately one would require a slow motion button in order to see everything played in this viral video. Back to the figure, who turns her head ever so slightly, long bangs still hiding her face.

I finally came back for you, IWC….I‘m going to spill your blood like you did to me…so you‘ll never be the same again…

The long and knotted hair continues to hide her face even as she scuttles, still hunched over right into the camera.

Never be the same again…never be the same again…NEVER BE THE SAME AGAIN!!

A very sinister laugh emanates from the woman with finger tips nipping at the sides of her mouth hidden beneath the shaggy hair.

HA-HA-HA-HA-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock!

STATIC

Yet another weapon comes into view…and its in the wrong hands…the hands of Aaron Harrison. But this time the weapon isn’t a baseball bat, a steel pipe, a crowbar, a switchblade, or a lighter…it’s a Singapore Cane. Harrison tests its weight as he sits backstage in some undisclosed location, swinging the now infamous, by IWC standards at least, weapon from one side to the other.

Mika: Easy Cowboy…you might hurt yourself.

Kozlov steps in, oddly wearing a hockey mask over her face. It’s removed and tossed to the side as she wraps an arm around Harrison’s neck and then sits right on his knee, making herself comfortable.

Mika: Did you buy me a new toy?

The cane is taken and suggestively stroked by Kozlov’s palms.

Mika: And it’s not even made of leather.

Harrison: Nah…

He slowly works the cane back into his hand.

Harrison: I have a different recipient in mind for this gift.

Mika: Oh?

Harrison: We got a present for the heartless Black Crusade….we got something for the brainless Christian Savior…and now…this special present is intended for the cowardly Cruze.

The cane twirls around Aaron’s hand.

Harrison: Think he’ll like it?

Mika: I’m sure he’ll LOVE it, Cowboy.

There is something eerily familiar regarding this scene, with Mika seated on Harrison’s lap, playing with the Singapore Cane, the two conniving together as they hatch a plot that will surely lead to the ruination of the Icon.

Harrison: It’s sad really….?

Mika: What’s that, Cowboy?

Harrison: I take no pleasure in what must be done to Orlando. There’s just somethings you gotta do. Don’t mean you have to like it.

“Everybody” by the Backstreet Boys has the crowd reacting like they just devoured their body weight in sugar. Their response gets even more enthusiastic as the flesh and blood Porno Lad, who would like to see a bit more flesh from his female adorers, moves to the stage, lifts his fists into the air getting a rousing ovation and then rushes straight to the ring. After several crotch points with coinciding explosions of pyrotechnics, Porno Lad finally reaches the ring and prepares for yet another opportunity to get hands on the woman who dared to cut a lock of hair away from his fro, Cassidy Haze.

Dollar: I shudder to think of what Aaron Harrison is going to use that Singapore cane for.

Susie: I have a guess, but you always tell me it’s wrong…or perverted for some reason.

Dollar: I’m guessing it has something to do with sodomy?

Susie: You guessed correctly.

Dollar: Why am I not surprised? But someone who is all about the shock factor is the Mega-Face, Porno Lad. A man who has taken on the burden of SAVING the IWC sort of speak, by being the biggest face in the history of this federation.

Susie: He’s already got a huge head, so I guess his face should catch up with it. Seriously, his head is big enough for him to become the mascot for Jack in the Box.

Dollar: Well, TPKid didn’t do much to put down his ego, considering that he propositioned him backstage to become his tag team partner for that three way Tag Title bout at Upping the Ante. It’s just going to swell Porno Lad’s ego till it pops like a pimple. And Cassidy Haze, or Lohan, may use their weapons to pop that pimple.

As Porno Lad grab asses with the fans and would like to literally cop a feel on a couple of them…attention turns to the stage where Silencer is set to arrive.

GO AHEAD…

The voice of Cagero filters through the loud speakers, but the former World Champion has yet to make his arrival, the stage still darkened without a single spotlight to enhance Silencer’s arrival.

SILENCE ME

The lights come back up and reveal not the painted face of Silencer, but the make up smeared faces of Brittany Lohan and Cassidy Haze…CONFUSED make up smeared faces. The two are turning, looking up, down, all around to find Silencer, who is nowhere in sight…not over hill…not over dell…it appears he’s hit the dusty trail. Cassidy and Brittany are at a loss, finally turning with angst ridden expressions and simultaneously asking the same question…”where is he?” Nowhere…that’s where…as he’s delayed his arrival…and apparently for good reason…..considering these two psychopaths were waiting to get the drop on him, with their weapons of choice in clutches.

Dollar: It looks like Lohan and Haze were going to get the drop on Silencer, but he’s outwitted them on this occasion…he saw this ambush coming from a mile away.

Susie: Really? Did he use a viewfinder? Because whenever I use those things all I see are pictures of lions and other zoo animals…I love the monkeys.

The peril of bewilderment continues to plague Lohan and Haze until the Cartel-tron lights up and answers are at last provided by the very soul they were intent on torturing. Upon the screen resides the very painted face they wanted to turn a different shade, transforming it from white to red.

Silencer: Awww….I’m sorry…I didn’t go and spoil the surprise, did I?

He thumps his fist against his knee.

Silencer: I guess I’m just the perpetual spoilt sport, aren’t I?

Neither Haze nor Lohan respond very well to Silencer’s cynicism.

Silencer: I feel terrible. I feel the pain of a 15 year old girl penetrated for the first time. Here you two ladies obviously spent a grand total of about three minutes arranging this whole plot, and then I went and blew it like Haze has so many truckers since she turned eleven.

Cassidy runs her fingers up the knife, really wishing she was using it to slice Porno Lad’s throat.

Silencer: You two are probably so pissed off that I went and ruined your whole plot, that you probably don’t even want to see me out there tonight. So guess what? With the Motherfuckers in charge, we’re able to make a few tweaks. And the first tweak I’m going to make….is officially removing myself from this tag team bout…

The crowd expresses angst, for once being on the same page as Lohan and Haze, who really wanted to employ their weapons to cripple Silencer.

Silencer: But don’t worry IWC, and Porno Lad…I’ve got a replacement in mind…a HUGE replacement….a man who just like Porno Lad reeks of charisma, and is a great big bundle high octane energy.. And yeah, when he passes gas, it does smell like he’s been drinking pure octane. So Haze, Lohan, I’ll stay away so as not to further agitate you, AND to make sure I’m rested up enough to make Tay-Tay’s World Title coronation, truly special.

The deranged duo continues to glare up at the Cartel-Tron, barking insults at the smiling Silencer, who will rest easy in the confines of Orlando’s office while they’re forced to compete against some scrub. But they apparently set their expectations way to low, because Silencer raises the bar in a big way the moment his replacement’s entrance theme plays through the speakers.

BOB BOB BOB! BOB BOB BOB BOB! BOBBOBBOB! MNOOSE!

His illustrious voice rings through the arena, as the lights dim down slightly, as the Bob march starts to play throughout the arena.

Lohan and Haze look down in time to see Bob log rolling through the curtains, unleashing his primal battle-cry.

Bob: EEEEEE!!!

Neither lady responds in time to keep their legs from being cut out from under them. The two collapse to the stage while the fans leap out of their seats, unleashing a reaction of sheer elation.

Dollar: It’s Bob? Really?

Susie: YES! YEEESS!!! Holy shittters YES! The awesomeness is unleashed…Bob has just given me a raging boner even though I’ve never possessed a penis.

Dollar: Sure you’ve held more than your fair share. But this is…just…downright ridiculous. Silencer using his newfound powers…to put Bob in this match as his replacement, and he’s already taken out Lohan and Haze with that epic log roll.

Bob just gets to his elbows and knees while his opponents are dashing to their feet. They rise in time for Porno Lad to come scrambling up the ramp, stepping off of Bob’s back and launching himself leg and hip first right into his opposition. All three go down with Porno Lad collapsing on top.

Dollar: And now Porno Lad is joining in on the fracas.

Susie: Ewww…

Dollar: I said fracas dammit. You perverted minx.

The crowd is acting like they just witnessed a Superbowl game winning catch, rejoicing at the sight of Porno Lad and Bob giving Haze and Lohan their comeuppance. Bob stands up and soaks in the adulation, which is getting him oh so excited. That’s when Porno Lad swoops in, takes a rising Haze by the hair, predictably targeting Cassidy, and whips him towards Bob. This prompts the big man to turn, bending forward and launching his rear end into the air. Haze bounces off of it like it were a trampoline, being launched right back into Porno Lad’s clutches, who bends down, catches her knees to his shoulder and heaves him up into a big back drop.

From quite the height, Haze comes crashing down onto the steel plated barricade, wincing then reaching for her possibly bruised kidneys. Porno Lad then yelps and takes off as Lohan comes charging after him. Brittany is hot on Porno Lad’s heels, before he drops into a baseball slide between Bob’s legs and Lohan finds herself ALMOST rushing right into the raised rear end of the big man.

Her heart leaps into her throat once she realizes she was moments from being engulfed in the folds of Bob’s flabby bum.

Dollar: That was close…Bob and Porno Lad using the blubbery behemoth’s backside as a potent weapon thus far.

Susie: It’s like kryptonite, Johnny, no one knows how to counter the bum of steel.

Brittany suddenly raises her foot, wedges it to Bob’s bum and employs her uncanny strength to shove him forward right into a rising Porno Lad, the top of his head ramming right against his partner’s crotch. Porno Lad leaps back, grabbing at his crotch, unaware of the fate that is about to befall him. Lohan steps towards Haze, helps her to her feet, takes her wrist, whips her towards Bob, then watches as Cassidy leap frogs one opponent, using him almost as a pommel horse to launch herself into a hurricarana on Porno Lad.

Dollar: WHOOOA! An incredible move from Haze!

Susie: See, I told you, Bob is the ultimate weapon. But it’s so sad, everyone is just out to use him. He’s not just a piece of meat people, he’s more than just eye candy dammit.

Bob stands up and looks around, unsure what just happened but positive that he should react with a dance, which he does to the delight of the masses. He shakes his massive derriere before the good natured jelly roll ends when Lohan delivers a straight blow to his crotch from behind. Bob doubles over, grabbing at his genitals and unleashing an ‘EEEE.’ Brittany then steps to his side, grabs the tie that is somehow attached straight to his epidermis, then employs it to drag her towards the ring.

Bob does what he does best, roll, but not of his own accord, for it’s the Final Solution of pro-wrestling who puts him in the ring. Bob rolls to the center while Lohan shouts to her tag team partner, Haze still on the ramp stomping away at a traumatized Porno Lad. She only stops in order to snatch up the crowbar that her mentor dropped, tossing it down the ramp to Lohan, who catches it then swings it into the steel steps, leaving a dent.

Dollar: Brittany Lohan determined to use that crowbar on someone, and if it’s not Silencer…it’s gonna be Bob. Poor Bob, Silencer pretty much fed the gullible glutton to the wolves tonight.

Susie: Don’t you dare hit him with that crowbar, Lohan…don’t you dare! As if seeing that plushie suffer last week wasn’t traumatizing enough.

Dollar: We saw the destruction Lohan caused with that weapon last week…will she do even more damage to Bob utilizing it tonight?

With crowbar in hand Brittany descends upon her unsuspecting victim. She raises the crowbar into the air, acting in defiance of referee Stuart Wright’s many protests. But he has no authority at the moment considering the bell has yet to ring to officially start the match, giving Lohan full flexibility with the rules. With bar raised aloft, Brittany charges at Bob only to get greasy, ham smeared hands, wedged to her stomach, before being shoved backwards into the ropes.

Brittany bounces off the cables and comes back in at Bob, swinging the bar at his face only to have him duck the shot. He then steps behind Lohan and delivers a devastating open hand slap right on her bottom.

A stunned Lohan leaps forward, grabbing at her tuckus and looking as if her eyes are about to rip right out of their sockets. The malicious Brittany turns, and swings again at Bob’s face with the crowbar. He ducks a second time, steps behind his opponent and hits ANOTHER open hand slap on her rear-end.

Lohan: STOP IT!

The vengeful femme lifts the crowbar into the air one more time before Bob leaps forward and engulfs her with the many layers of his fat, hitting her with a splash. Bob steps back and is about to dance before it’s his eyes that go 3…no…4 dimensional…if there is such a thing. He looks in shock at Lohan, who was staggered, but not taken down by the splash.

Dollar: It didn’t work Bob, Brittany’s too tough.

Susie: It’s those big man shoulders I tell you. They should be counted as foreign objects as they give her a totally unfair advantage.

Bob continues to look stunned before he steps forward and gets a big boot right to the jaw, one delivered with such stiff force that it instantly takes his flabby frame down to the canvas.

Dollar: What a big boot square to the mush. Bob’s jaw absolutely fractur….wait a minute.

To everyone’s surprise, but Brittany’s more than anyone…she goes to pull back her foot she finds it trapped in the mouth of Bob. She keeps trying to wrench it free before glaring down into the big man’s face and hearing his disturbing comment.

Bob: Mmmm…ham!

Susie: OMG! Bob is trying to eat Brittany’s foot.

Dollar: Probably tastes pretty leathery.

It becomes apparent that there is only one way for Brittany to escape this predicament considering that she dropped her crowbar after being hit with the splash and is unable to reach it. Once she realizes it’s out of her grasp, she employs her hands instead to reach down to her boot, unlacing the straps and pulling her foot out of it. Bob then rolls around on the canvas, licking and chewing on the boot, looking as if the taste is giving him a euphoric feeling.

Haze then reaches under the ropes, grabs him by his leathery pantaloons and drags him to the outside of the ring. Bob is so distracted munching on the boot that he doesn’t even notice Cassidy pushing him along until his knees collide with the steel steps. The big man then goes crashing over them to the mats.

The bell finally chimes to officially get this match underway after Wright has tossed the crowbar to the outside and Porno Lad has slipped into the ring behind an unsuspecting Lohan.

Dollar: And the match JUST NOW getting started.

Susie: But Bob…but Bob can’t compete now…his wiggy could be injured.

Dollar: What in the hell is a wiggy? You know what, I don’t even want an answer to that question.

Porno Lad charges up behind Lohan, takes her around the waist and then tries to drop back into a German suplex. Unfortunately Brittany blocks it by taking off into the ropes, dragging the Original Prankster along behind her. Once her chest hits the turnbuckle, she wraps her arms around it, keeping from being dragged into the devastating suplex. But Porno Lad keeps his arms wrapped around her waist and now begins to smell her hair.

Porno Lad: Mmmm, you’re hair smells like ginger-blossoms.

A back elbow drills Porno Lad right in his teeth before he can continue delivering his observational pick-up lines. He goes staggering back while Haze slides into the ring behind him and nails a big dropkick between his shoulder blades. The force sends Porno Lad charging forward into Lohan, who steps forward in time to catch him coming in against her shoulder, before heaving her up into the air, twisting and driving him down to the canvas via a Double A style spine buster.

All the momentum has been taken instantly out of Porno Lad’s sails as he lays on the canvas, lower back arching from the canvas. But he hasn’t even begun to feel true misery, because Lohan is shouting instructions at Haze, who is eager to make her mentor happy. She rushes into the ropes, ricochets off, comes back in at Brittany and gets gorilla pressed into the air. Ultimately Haze comes crashing down with a big splash right on top of Porno Lad’s chest.

Dollar: The Tag Team experience of Lohan and Haze playing a pivotal role in their dominance here. Everyone knows my feelings on actual tag teams when it comes to facing singles competitors randomly thrown together.

Susie: If it doesn’t involve glitter, than I’m totally uninterested.

Bob is back to his knees and crawling towards his corner, climbing up and chewing on the tag rope like it were a piece of beef jerky. When Wright insists that he stop, Bob reaches over the cables, grabs him by the top of his head and delivers the dreaded Wiggy Twiggles. Wright eventually pries himself out of the noogie and reprimands Bob for his outlandish behavior.

Meanwhile, as the fun and games persist between Bob and the referee, Porno Lad suffers the two on one assault from his opponents.

Cassidy grabs Porno Lad’s ankle, lifts up on it and sends him rolling over backwards to his feet. She then grabs him by the wrist and whips him towards a waiting Lohan, who goes to catch him with another twisting spine buster.

In mid-air though, Porno Lad slips off of Brittany’s hands adjusts his body and lands on his feet right behind his opponent. He then pushes her right along into the inbound Haze, the two clocking heads against one another. The unintentional head-butt causes Lohan to look so disorderly she could probably be brought up on charges. She staggers back into the waiting arms of the Original Prankster, who catches her around the waist then snaps back into the German suplex, bridging into the pin.

Official Wright turns around just in time to see the pin, dropping into position to make the count.

1

2

It took a long time to hit the suplex but with little pay off, because Lohan kicks out a fraction of a second before the three and prevents a shocking win from Porno Lad and Bob.

Dollar: Wow was that ever close. I thought for a moment that Porno Lad legitimately had the match won for he and Bob, but it didn’t happen. Brittany still TOO powerful.

To the canvas Lohan twists as Wright steps into her partner’s face, insisting that Haze vacate the ring. She slowly backs into her corner and immediately cries out for her mentor to make the tag. Brittany is a bit shaken but still possesses the ability to crawl, which is exactly what she does, right into her corner where she slaps the hand of Haze.

Cassidy is so gunho that she leaps the ropes and goes charging right at the rising Porno Lad, only to be caught with a tilt a whirl right into the backbreaker across his raised knee.

He then bridges Haze back up to her feet and wraps an arm around her neck before snapping back into a downward spiral that plants her face hard against the canvas.

Dollar: Fluid combination by Porno Lad, who is actually the one providing the lion’s share of the work…wrestling wise for his team. Never though I’d hear those words coming out of my mouth.

Susie: Tag in Bob, Porno Lad, tag him in…there’s far more wiggy twiggling to be done.

Though he can make the attempt at a pin, Porno Lad opts instead to continue going at it on his own considering the unpredictable nature of his opponent. He turns the palm that was once outstretched to make a tag into a fist, swinging it into the rising Cassidy’s face. Another punch, and another punch is delivered, sending Haze stumbling back into the turnbuckle.

He then comes barreling in only to have his shin dropkicked and for him to take a header straight into the middle turnbuckle pad. His skull bounces back and his brain is rattled by the collision with the corner. This leaves him incapable of stopping Haze from making the tag to her partner. Brittany enters the ring behind Porno Lad and then half bare footed, steps to the middle of the squared circle where she’s taken by the wrist and whipped by Haze into a hip first splash against the back of her opponent’s head.

Porno Lad’s face is driven hard into the turnbuckle, leaving him clinging to the last vestige of consciousness as he turns and falls to his seat. With glassy eyes he looks at Haze bend forward, blowing a kiss to him.

Haze: Are you liking this, Lover!?! Getting steamy for you?

A downtrodden Porno Lad uses the ropes as the ultimate aid to reach his feet only to have Lohan step out of the corner, grab Cassidy by the wrist and whip her towards their common foe. Haze connects with a step up knee strike right on the jaw of Porno Lad, then drops down, hooks him around the neck and rushes out of the corner with a bulldog attempt. But in actuality she pulls up on Porno Lad’s hair so that his face is aimed forward instead of looking down, so that he can be charged right into the discus double axe handle smash from Lohan, that almost shatters his nose on impact.

Porno Lad flies back and flops on the ring while Lohan instructs her protégé to exit the ring. Cassidy takes a moment to give her rival a hair tussle before rolling to the outside of the ring, leaving the Prankster to the mercy of Lohan….to which she has none. Brittany grabs her adversary by the wrist, drags him up to his feet and then pulls him into a trachea crushing short arm clothesline. Porno Lad actually corkscrews through the air as a result of the blow, before ultimately tumbling to the canvas.

Lohan then makes another quick tag, keeping herself and Haze fresh as daisies. Into the ring Cassidy scrambles, rushing up behind Porno Lad, grabbing him by the hair, sitting him up and holding him in place. This puts him in perfect position for Brittany’s big Yakuza kick, nailing him right between the eyes with her bare-foot.

Dollar: And now that cranium crushing Yakuza kick hit on Porno Lad with enough force to possibly send his nose straight up into his brain….if he actually has one that is.

Susie: As much as I love Porno Lad, he should have made the tag to Bob when he had the chance.

Porno Lad goes down, but only so that Brittany can drop to his side and place him in a modified crossface. She lifts up on her opponent’s jaw, exposing his face to the sickening running basement dropkick delivered by Haze.

Dollar: Porno Lad just getting hit from every possible angle, by Haze and Lohan, who are really demonstrating that student, teacher relationship through their continuity.

Lohan finally makes her exit as Haze picks up the pieces…the fragmented pieces of Porno Lad, who is desperately trying to stand up. That’s when she swoops in and pulls one of his hands out from under him, but not to deliver an offensive move. Instead she puts one of his fingers into her mouth and actually sucks his finger in a provocative fashion. She then spit’s the finger out and delivers a twisting knee strike to the side of Porno Lad’s temple.

PL collapses to his back, looking absolutely spent at this point as Haze continues to kneel on the canvas, fanning herself off with her palms. She then leaps to her feet and rushes across the ring into the ropes, but when hits them, Bob delivers a big slap on her posterior. An outraged Haze spins around just as Bob grabs her wiggy and gives it the obligatory wiggle.

Susie: Another wiggy twiggled! Can I start a ‘this is awesome’ chant?

Dollar: If you do, I’m walking.

A desperate Haze at last pulls her head back out of Bob’s clutches and then delivers a slap of her own to the cheeks of her opponent…the cheeks on his face. Bob snaps his head back so that his eyes burn a hole into Cassidy.

Bob: You big MEAN!

He throws a wild punch at Cassidy but she steps back, avoiding it. He then throws another punch over the ropes but Cassidy rears back once again just in time to avoid the slug to her jaw. A laughing Cassidy actually sticks her jaw out, imploring Bob to try again, which he does…but misses the target. Haze then backs away still chuckling but is totally unaware that Porno Lad has recovered. Not until he wedges his hands to her back and shoves her right into Bob. Unexpectedly the two having a meeting of lips, Haze finding herself trapped in a kiss with the burly big man.

Susie: This is so damned hot. Bob should so work with Porno Lad to get into the porn industry. Can you imagine, Bob, the porn star?

Dollar: I really…really DON’T want to imagine that actually.

Cassidy finally fights Bob off, prying his lips off of her own. Rage burns in Haze’s eyes, as her face turns many different shades of red. Furiously she reaches out, grabbing a still traumatized Bob by the back of his head and pulling him forward into….another lip-lock. The crowd reacts in a wave of unanimous surprise at the sight of Bob being forced into a French kiss.

Dollar: I have never been more sick to my stomach…not even when I came down with food poisoning after eating tainted shrimp.

The molestation ends when Haze says it ends, finally pulling away from Bob, and leaving a big lip-stick mark behind across his mouth…but that’s not the only mark she leaves on the gelatinous gyrator. Haze steps back fanning herself off then, turns towards Porno Lad, who suddenly crawls through her legs and then reaches out and slaps the belly of Bob, tagging him in.

He steps over the ropes just as Haze turns around and finds herself once again face to face with the blob. The sight of the behemoth causes her to step back, palms outstretched before gesturing between their lips, reminding him of the passionate exchange the two just shared. She actually asks for a sequel, leaning forward and puckering up to draw the big man in….into her web….because hidden behind her back is the switchblade, which she slowly pops open and prepares to employ on the unsuspecting behemoth.

Susie: Don’t do it Bob…don’t do it.

Bob wipes his lips with the back of his arm and then leans forward to deliver the type of kiss that would make Hollywood film-makers truly jealous. Just before their lips interlock and Haze can use her favorite weapon to the destruction of the big bellied brawler, Bob unleashes a huge ham burp directly into Cassidy’s face. The overwhelming odor causes Haze’s knees to buckle, almost knocking her out the second she catches a whiff of it..

Susie: I don’t know if it was intentional, but that was awesome…A big burp that looks stronger than chloroform.

Dollar: That probably smells worse than a thousand Pepe Le Pews.

Haze goes from red to green, gasping and choking for air as she fans her face with both hands. The asphyxiation gives Bob just the opening he needs to rush forward into a big lariat that takes his opponent down. He then rushes into the ropes, ricochets off and dives forward into a huge butt first splash onto Cassidy’s chest.

Aid for Haze comes in the form of her partner, Lohan scrambling into the ring and charging right at the seated Bob. Before she can catch the big man with his guard down, Porno Lad re-enters the ring and catches her with a spinning back heel kick to the ribs. Lohan is doubled over and put in perfect position for Bob who jumps to his feet and then into the air with the butt check.

His cheeks nail the face of Lohan, causing her to stand up looking disorientated and turning into Porno Lad, who then delivers a step up enzugari to the back of her skull.

Somehow Lohan is still standing, albeit stumbling and staggering around as she tries to maintain her balance. She then turns into Bob who catches her by the creases of the knees, heaves her up over his back and ultimately drives her down into the canvas with the Mnooseville Slam. Bob’s rendition of the Alabama slam leaves Lohan sprawled out right next to Haze, mentor and pupil lying in equally as prone states. Bob and Porno Lad then exchange a glance and a nod before taking off into opposite ropes. Bob and Porno Lad do matching dances before simultaneously diving into stereo head butts to the chests of Lohan and Cassidy.

Susie: A double Dancing Wiggy Drop!! Okay…I can’t help it…THIS IS AWE…

Dollar: DON’T EVEN! Porno Lad and Bob taking control of this match and getting these fans so fired up in the process.

The crowd is indeed going absolutely nutters….everyone standing at attention and watching intently as Bob now rolls back and forth over both his victims. The sight of the Mnoose Sausage only gets the crowd to react even louder, realizing that the chubby, hairy goober could be on the verge of making either of his opponents tap out.

But before Bob can earn the submission, one of his rolls ends poorly, because Lohan catches him by the arm. She then lets Bob roll over to his stomach, laying stretched over Cassidy then steps over his back, wraps his biceps around his neck and applies the Painfully Perfect.

Dollar: Just when it looks like Bob is about to score the submission with the Mnoose Sausage, he rolls right into Lohan’s version of the Buffalo Sleeper….and oh look at this…

Cassidy reaches out, takes Bob around the back of the head and pulls him down into a modification of her Nyctophila. All those in the Manhattan Center react in shock at the sight of the Painfully Perfect and the Nyctophila being simultaneously locked in on Bob, who has absolutely no other recourse but to submit.

Dollar: This is…I’ve never seen anything like this before. Both of these ladies simultaneously applying their finishing submissions on Bob, really punishing the big man.

Susie: Hang in there Bob, fight this. Everyone get up and clap, show that you believe….that you believe in Bob.

One man who believes in Bob, is Porno Lad, and he can actually do something to help his partner. He steps in and delivers the Epic Fail square to the top of Lohan’s skull, forcing her to break the Painfully Perfect.

The spinning super kick knocks Lohan absolutely silly, and forces her to break the submission before twisting through the ropes and crashing to the outside of the ring.

Dollar: EPIC FAIL!

Susie: Lohan is out…This is their chance…this is their chance!

Porno Lad grabs one of Cassidy’s ankles and forces it away from Bob’s throat. Not only does he roll her over to her knees but steps behind her back and applies the tazzmission, his own signature submission. Bob, though suffering from severe air deprivation, stumbles towards his partner and opponent then bends forward to lift his bum right up in front of Haze’s face. Porno Lad leans forward, burying Haze’s face into the crack of Bob’s bum while keeping the tazzmission applied to a raucous reaction from the crowd.

Dollar: Good God this is absolutely TERRIBLE! I wouldn’t even wish this fate on Adolf Hitler. If Bob farts right now…God help us all.

Porno Lad cackles at the expense of his opponent, subjecting her to just the type of treatment she deserves. But Cassidy finds a way out of this by reaching her hand into the air and applying the crotch claw on Bob, who’s face twists into a look of pleasure, then one of pain.

Dollar: Another submission now applied, the crotch claw! But who’s gonna tap first? Bob, or Haze? Maybe neither one, because here comes Lohan.

To the shock of absolutely everyone, Lohan, who barely has a single remaining brain cell working after the Epic Fail, steps up behind Porno Lad and applies a dragon sleeper.

Dollar: And now just about everyone has a submission locked in. Bob smothering Haze’s face with his bum, Cassidy giving the crotch claw to Bob, Porno Lad applying the Tazzmission on Cassidy, and Lohan locking in the dragon sleeper on Porno Lad. I think I’ve got cross eyed. Who’s gonna tap…WHO?

Susie: What’s with this emphasis on tap? Is it too much to ask that they change it up with a little break dancing? Just a little?

Surprisingly everyone is hanging tough, fighting and resisting the urge for submission to the intrigue of the masses. But their attention deviates to the stage, where two individuals have emerged to get a close up of the action.

Dollar: As if this couldn’t possibly get anymore twisted, here come the Tag Team Champions, Bash Kincaid and Hugo Magnusson observing this action. Though I think it’s safe bet that their here to do a little more than just observe.

The two slowly encroach upon the ring, nearing the four athletes involved, two of which being the primary challengers for their straps at Upping the Ante. Porno Lad nor Cassidy are aware of the arrival of the team that has defeated them as a collective on two previous encounters, and now look to pulverize them outside of the standard tag team encounter.

Susie: I think you were right, Johnny.

Dollar: Reporting nothing new there. I think Hugo and Bash are here to soften up the competition after Porno Lad and Cassidy Haze have sufficiently softened one another up.

The TCWC continue on their way towards the ring, ready to inflict untold amounts of damage on their thorns in their sides. When it seems that this match is surely going to end in another disqualification, via interference and violence unleashed by Hugo and Bash, it’s Kincaid who finds himself subjected to some unexpected carnage. A steel chair slams into the upper back of the Tag Team Champion, putting Kincaid into a downward spiral and the fans into an uproar. The sight of TPKid standing behind the TCWC, with a dented chair in hand has everyone leaping to the high heavens and ultimately back down to earth.

Dollar: TPKid interfering and taking out Kincaid with the steel chair….He’s continuing to try and endear himself to Porno Lad…this time saving him from the Tag Team Champions.

Hugo wants to go after the Trailer Park Kid, but he’s held at bay by the chair wielding deviant. Magnusson stays out of range of a shot from the steel, then turns and assists Bash back to his feet so the two can overwhelm their assailant. TPKid slams the chair on the stage and backs up the ramp while Hugo and Kincaid follow, lured to the backstage area by design…TPKid keeping the TCWC from interfering in this match.

Dollar: Seriously? TPKid actually showing some intelligence? I didn’t think anyone with backwoods facial hair like that was capable of such a thing.

Susie: He needs mutton chops…serious mutton chops.

Hugo and Bash track their prey through the curtains to the backstage area, leaving the action in the ring to continue without incident…unless you consider Haze’s face buried in Bob’s backside to be an incident.

The weird, near pornographic way the four are intertwined at last ends when Porno Lad breaks his submission and pushes, back, shoving his opponent in reverse a few steps. He then drops to his knees as Lohan tries to keep the dragon sleeper applied, and snap mares her over his head. Brittany falls to the canvas while Haze stands up behind Bob, still locking in the crotch claw. Suddenly Bob pushes back with his seat, hitting Cassidy’s chest via his bum and knocking her backwards into her own tag team partner

Cassidy turns just in time to have Lohan drop to her back, wedge her feet to Haze’s stomach and monkey flip her right into Porno Lad. She crashes upside down into the Original Prankster’s chest, as both competitors collapse to the canvas as a result.

Dollar: Another amazing tag team move by Haze and Lohan. These two just know each other so well…and its not working out to the benefit of Porno Lad and Bob.

Just before Lohan can get back up, Bob leaps into the air and squashes her chest with the folds of his massive bottom. Brittany desperately kicks her legs as the official makes the count.

1

2

The crowd is absolutely amazed as Lohan sits up and forces Bob off of her into a sunset flip.

Dollar: How in the hell does Lohan have the strength to pull off that counter on the near 500 pound Bob?

The referee makes the count.

1

2

Bob gets a shoulder up and log rolls away from Lohan, who grabs at her possibly fractured sternum after having all the weight of Bob crashing down on top of it. She turns and shouts across the ring at Haze, who in spite of being shaken up by that last tag move, promptly responds by rolling to the outside and snatching up the crowbar dropped to the mats.

Dollar: The crowbar coming back into…wait….

The crowbar slides into the ring and within inches of Lohan’s hands when Porno Lad stomps down on the illegal weapon, then snatches it off the canvas. The referee is so busy checking on the condition of Silencer, that he doesn’t notice Porno Lad picking up the weapon and threatening to use it on Lohan.

But he stops, Porno Lad shaking his head and refusing to be so sinister as to use an illegal weapon…keep in mind…the man is the ultimate baby-face…the ULTIMATE baby-face…and baby-faces…they don’t blindside people with weapons…nuh-uh…no way.

Dollar: Come on Porno Lad, use the damn weapon you idiot…stop trying to be such a goodie two shoes.

Susie: And he is wearing two shoes too, so you’re right on the money.

Porno Lad turns and begins to throw aside the weapon when the referee turns and spots it in his palm. Brittany then goes limp as a noodle across the canvas, looking like she’s been knocked unconscious. The official jumps in Porno Lad’s face and points at the crowbar, which the Original Prankster drops behind his back plays innocent, implying that the referee was seeing things. But he will not be swayed, turning and calling for the bell under the false pretense that Porno Lad just bashed Lohan with the crowbar.

Dollar: Mind blowing stuff here. Porno Lad was trying to throw the crowbar out of the ring and do the right thing, then he gets spotted with it and Lohan employs her acting skills to make it look like she was bludgeoned with the weapon.

Susie: So wait…Porno Lad is being disqualified? No…no way…You NEVER disqualify you’re top face…NEVER!

Dollar: That’s EXACTLY what just happened. Porno Lad and Bob have been disqualified even though the Prankster never used the crowbar. Probably should of if he was going to be falsely convicted anyhow.

Susie: This is wrong…wrong on so many levels.

As Porno Lad argues with the official, he has no idea that Haze has slipped in behind him, is rushing in and delivering the Segregated Minds to the back of his head. Porno Lad is knocked forward into the ropes and sent spilling through them. Haze then watches with a twisted grin before she turns and gets caught by the creases of her knees. Bob hoists Cassidy into the air and then drives her down to the canvas with the Mnooseville Slam.

Dollar: The Mnooseville Slam by the Bobster! Getting some revenge for his team.

Porno Lad and Cassidy both now lay spent across the outside mats, the two athletes looking exhausted after absolutely brutalizing one another throughout the course of this tag team bout. This means that Bob and Lohan are the only two left in the ring, not a good thing for the ham aficionado. Bob stands up and lumbers around, his jelly rolls swinging from side to side and providing very little cushioning against the shot from the crowbar. A ripple effect cascades through Bob’s belly, reacting like a body of water with a stone tossed in the middle.

Dollar: Lohan has got that damned crowbar again and now she’s using it on Bob.

Susie: No Lohan, NO! Bad Brittany, BAD! Bob doesn’t deserve this.

Dollar: The man tried to eat her boot for crying out loud. Of course he’s got this coming.

The Mnooses adoring big man doubles over and exposes his back to a shot from the crowbar, bringing him down to his knees. Lohan then steps around behind his back, places the crowbar around his throat and pulls back, choking the life out of him. However, her eyes aren’t on the man she’s bludgeoning, but locked solely upon the Cartel-tron. It’s also where she directs her near methodical statements.

Lohan: SIILLLENCER! SILENCER!

Susie: She’s still calling out that mascara wearing man.

Dollar: Lohan promised before this match that she would keep Silencer from interfering in her employer’s, Taylor Chase’s, World Title celebration. She’s hell-bent on fulfilling her job functions.

Brittany continues to cry out for the shit-stirring Simon.

Lohan: Silencer! SILENCER! We have your Bob, Silencer. He still lives…

A look of annoyance transforms Brittany’s once calm and collective face, as she looks to mutilate Bob’s with the crowbar.

Lohan: Silencer, maybe you don’t hear so well.

The crowbar grinds viciously against Bob’s cheek.

Bob: EEEEEEE!

Bob’s squeal gets him boatloads of sympathy from the fans, imploring Brittany to let him go. She doesn’t give in to their pleas and instead wraps a hand around her victim’s lips, closing them tightly.

Lohan: Come out SILLLENCER!

Brittany was on the cusp of an actual grin before even the faintest hint of a smile vanishes at the sight of the last person she wanted to see stepping through the curtains.

Pearson: I’m afraid not, Mrs. Final Solution.

An overwhelmingly positive reaction is heard for one Kathryn Pearson, who in the span of just a few short weeks has instantly made a name for herself on the IWC landscape. She continues to generate buzz by audaciously interrupting the very lady she’s scheduled to team alongside of at Upping the Ante, in the process doing no favors in terms of building trust between the two.

Pearson: What’s the matter? Looks like you don’t want to see me…

Said suspicions are true. Lohan throws down Bob and points the crowbar straight at the woman who interfered in her plans last week to use Lukas Montgomery as ransom, and here she is, doing the exact same thing again.

Pearson: Why is that? I mean, we’re supposed to be girlfriends, right? Building some kind of bond as we prepare to team up at the pay-per-view. But by the look on your face, it seems that your…well…downright homicidal at the mere sight of me. That can’t be…I thought we had built some type of mutual understanding last week….Oh wait…no we didn’t…we didn’t at all…

Pearson is just as bold in her step as she is in her words, getting closer and closer to the ring, in spit eof the threatening presence of Lohan…and the crowbar in her hand makes her all that more menacing.

Pearson: Actually, as I can recall, last week you just kept getting in my way, impeding my plans. I haven’t been a professional wrestler for very long, but to me, that doesn’t sound like the basis for a very united tag team…now does it, Brittany?

Wisely she pauses at the edge of the ramp.

Pearson: If these issues between us continues, well, it can bring us down at Upping the Ante. We need to go into that match as a TEAM, not as enemies. If we want to take back our number one contenderships…the title shots that WE earned…then we’ve got to be cohesive. So instead of being at each other’s throats, I’ve found a solution for our problems….one that will help me overlook what you did last week when you came out, distracted me and allowed Nathan Creed to steal my captive, Lukas Montgomery, right out from under my nose when I had the Blacklist chomping at the bit to get him back.

It suddenly dawns on Brittany why her partner at Upping the Ante is being so bold…why is she being so long winded…why she is being such a ’distraction.’ When the realization sets in, it’s too late. Lohan turns around mere seconds after Silencer has jumped the barricade, grabbed Bob by his wrist and helped roll the big man out of the ring and out of harm’s way. He goes a step further by aiding Bob over the guardrail, the two taking off into the crowd. Brittany rushes at the ropes and reaches through them, but there’s no way she can get her fingers on the pair before they vanish amongst the crowd.

Dollar: Kathryn Pearson, she just distracted Brittany long enough for Silencer to save Bob. What the hell is she thinking? She’s just antagonizing the woman she’s gonna have to depend on at Upping the Ante.

Brittany’s vengeful eyes twist towards Kathryn, who is already back on the stage, on the verge of stepping through the curtains.

Pearson: Eye for an eye, Brittany…eye for an eye.

She waves goodbye to Lohan, who crosses her arms and just shakes her head in a very disappointed fashion.

Dollar: These two ladies may just kill each other before they even make it to Upping the Ante.

Susie: If they do, I call dibs on Kathryn Pearson’s halter tops.

Orlando: I really feel like an idiot right now…

In spite of this statement the Icon wears a smile…albeit an uneasy one as he stands in some tame backstage corridor, conversing with an off camera figment.

Orlando: Obviously you should have been the first person I came to. But I just thought extending the olive branch to Christian and Silencer, would make you happy…would be something you would want me to do. I…I just wanted to show you that I’m turning over a new leaf….that I’ve, you know, seen the light. It took a lot of pride swallowing in order to approach two of the men I despise more than the Board of Directors. That should show you how much I’ve changed…how much I’ve grown….how much I’ve evolved these past few weeks since you showed up and really knocked me over the head with a ten pound bag of ‘conscious.’ You’re like my Jimmy the Cricket…which is why I need you.

The mystery persists no longer, as the camera drawls back to finally reveal a perturbed Nathan Creed. All the tell0tale signs of annoyance are exuded by Creed’s body language, cross arms, twitching brow, and a hung over expression on his face.

Orlando: 3N…No Name Necessary…former Tag Team Champions…..back together one last time under the IWC umbrella. Can you imagine anything more epic than that? Anything more headline grabbing and ratings spiking? 3N…Nathan Creed, Orlando Cruze…united by a common goal…and all you have to do Nathan…is agree to….

Nathan: Stop…just stop.

But Orlando will not…he’s on a roll….meaning there’s no time for that whole ‘listening’ thing.

Orlando: Just take a second and think back…back on all the accomplishments…the accomplishments of Cruze and Creed. We took down the Conspiracy, we took down Dan Douglas, we took down the Alpha Generation, and if you just do this one last favor for me…we can continue to have so many accomplishments as a…

Nathan: SHUT IT!

The Icon snaps back both literally and figuratively.

Nathan: Listen, Orlando….Brother…I appreciate that you went to Silencer…that you went to Christian Savior…that took a lot of balls.

Orlando: They’re HUGE, Creed. Which is why I have such big ambitions. I think you‘ll really appreciate this offer I‘m giving you, one that will no doubt ensure we reunite and take back this company.

Nathan: You’re not listening to me, Orlando…big surprise there.

Orlando: I don’t think YOU’RE listening to ME, Creed.

Nathan: No, I’ve stood back and listened to you too damned long. I listened as you threw everyone on this roster under the bus, as you droned on and on and on about everyone being beneath you, about everyone being incapable of carrying the weight of this federation. If you’re so superior…prove it. Go out there next week, face Frankie…face Harrison…face them both on your own.

This is not going how Cruze has anticipated at all. He was sure, positively positive that Nathan would be the one to take him up on the offer…but Creed isn’t even willing to hear the sales pitch.

Orlando: Nathan….I….I need you.

Nathan: You need me? So is that why you left the ring and left me to get my ass kicked all over the Manhattan Center a few weeks ago? Is that why you didn’t come out there last week when the Blacklist was trying to get the unfair two on one advantage on me? Oh wait, I forgot you were too busy obsessing over getting back your World Heavyweight Championship to care what happened to your…brother.

Orlando: Okay, I’ve made some mistakes. But aren’t you supposed to be the bigger man? Aren’t you supposed to overlook my past transgressions and turn the other cheek?

Nathan: I’m fed up with overlooking your behavior…with forgiving and forgetting. We go through this same song and dance routine time and time again. You betray me, you turn your back on me, you spit in my face, and then I forgive you, come to your aid, we act like nothing ever happened. And as thus, you never learn your lesson, meaning we’re doomed to repeat the same pattern. That’s not the case this time, Bud. You’re not going to use me as a crutch, as a safety net. I’m not here to catch you every time you fall. I think if you hit the earth, it may actually snap some sense into that big head of yours.

Silencer: Hey, Box-Head, we’ve got a meeting…

Nathan turns and acknowledges Silencer poking his head out of the door now marked ‘Motherfuckers.’

Nathan: I’ve gotta go.

Orlando: Nathan, wait…we’ve gotta.

Creed yanks his shoulder away from Orlando’s hand as he walks into the office. A flabbergasted Cruze remains behind, throwing his arms into the air and letting them flop to his sides. It begins to dawn on him that he may be completely on his own…BUT…he’s certainly not alone at the moment, evident when he’s bumped from behind by Mr. Hush and Al. The two are obviously on their way to this secret pow-wow, but can’t get much further before Orlando grabs hold of Mr. Hush’s wrist.

Orlando: Hey…HEY! I need to talk to you.

Mr. Hush glances down at the hand then up into Orlando’s face, prompting him to detach his palm at once.

Al: MR. HUSH IS NOT THE TALKING TYPE! AND HE SEES YOU AS QUITE A CONNIVING KNAVE…PARDON MY LANGUAGE.

Orlando: Good lord, turn your decibel down a notch.

Orlando puts fingers in his ears to decrease the volume of Al’s explosive voice.

Orlando: Tell Mr. Hush that I need his help.

Al: PLEASE ALLOW ME TO CORRECT MYSELF, AS I’M SURE I MISPOKE. MR. HUSH CAN HEAR, HE JUST OPTS NOT TO SPEAK.

Orlando: I don’t care, use synthesizer tones and flashing lights, do whatever it takes to communicate with the man. I need his help, I need him to summon Legion for me.

There’s already a limo taking up a huge chunk of the parking lot, one belonging to Mr. D, but another car finds room…no…makes room. The obvious rent a car speeds into the lot and has to screech to a halt when a muddy St. Bernard darts in front of it, frothing at the mouth as it passes dangerously close to the vehicle. After the tires screech, bringing the car to an abrupt halt, the door pops open, and out steps….Jackson Adams?

Dollar: Adams? Jackson Adams? What…why….is HE here tonight?

Susie: Maybe he’s here to compete in the costume contest.

Dollar: What costume contest?

Susie: The one I just imagined.

Dollar: Well this isn’t imagined. Jackson Adams is here in the flesh, and we haven’t seen him since Awakening, where it was revealed by Desmond Drake that he was suffering from concussion related dementia. So why is he here tonight?

There is no baggage, at least not figuratively…The only baggage Adams brings with him is of the emotional variety, evident by the angst ridden expression on his face. He doesn’t seem happy to be here, but nevertheless he sets foot on IWC soil for the first time since the last pay-per-view. Through the doors storms Adams, undoubtedly ready to make a statement concerning his return to the IWC.

Mika: Honestly, we didn’t think you were capable of it, my Sweet.

Seated on a crate in the guerrilla position is Mika Kozlov, leaning back and examining the photos she’s taken with her I-Phone. She seems unhappy with one of the shots, prompting her to lift the phone into position and snap another photograph of the writhing Kathryn Pearson.

Mika: Going out there and standing toe to toe with Lohan. Many a braver individual than you would never even dare cross paths with Brittany, but since you did, that must mean your one tough cookie.

Kathryn tries, but fails, to pry her arm out of the clutches of Montgomery. It remains tightly pinned against the small of her back while she’s wedged cheek and chest first against the wall. Behind her back stands Montgomery, forcing her forward…forcing her against the wall so that she can’t budge, not even an inch.

Pearson: You two think you can intimidate me?

Mika: No way. How could two meek little individuals like ourselves possibly threaten someone who just stood up to the mighty Lohan? It be stupid of us to even try. I mean, how would we do it? By ambushing you right as you stepped through the curtains into the backstage area.

Lukas looks back at the curtains which are still swaying right after Pearson passed through them.

Mika: By having Lukas twist your arm until it almost snaps at the elbow?

Lukas wrenches up on the arm until he hears a slight squeal from Pearson.

Mika: By reminding you that you might not want to piss off your tag team partners tonight?

Montgomery: Hey, Katie…you might not want to upset the two of us…

Lukas pulls the hair off of her shoulder and away from her ear so she can hear him clearly.

Montgomery: We are your tag team partners tonight, after-all.

Mika: I mean…how would that sway you, considering you seem like the bold and courageous type that would take a loss on her record instead of going out there to team with the two of us.

Pearson: I’d rather taste my own vomit than team with you two. And Lukas, that better be a roll of quarters in your pocket, or so help me!

He pulls back on her jaw rather violently and draws his lips dangerously close to the lobe of her ear.

Montgomery: It is. I happen to be doing laundry later tonight.

Mika: Yep…seems to me that the Blacklist might be stepping into a 3 on 2 situation, or, as terrifying a thought as it may be, a 4 on 2, should you decide your time would be better spent teaming with the Crusade and Whitman, instead of aiding your helpless partners.

Pearson: If Lukas doesn’t take his God damn hands off of me, I’ll make sure he needs first AIDE by the end of the…

Another yank on her jaw and twisting of her arm, Lukas ensuring that she listens to every cynical word oozing from Kozlov’s smiling lips.

Mika: You’re just rebellious enough to do that too? Aren’t you, Katie? Aren’t you? If you could slap your own partner, Brittany, in the face last week by abducting Lukas…

Montgomery: Did it turn you on seeing me in bondage?

Mika: …when Lohan clearly had a plan for him as a hostage…then what’s stopping you from being such an instigator of mischief in our match tonight? Nothing seems to threaten you. Nothing seems to stop you from creating strife between yourself and your partners? Here the Blacklist is willing to overlook your abduction of Montgomery last week in order to get the job done, to take out all our common foes, and what do you do?

Pearson: You haven’t even begun to see what I’m going to do the two of you.

Mika: You just keep on stirring the pot…you just keep on trying to aggravate us…just like you did to Lohan a few moments ago…when you should be doing just the opposite…trying to find some common ground between us so that we’re all on the same page.

Pearson: We’ll never be on the same page.

Mila: Yep…there’s that rebellious…counter-productive Kathryn rearing her spunky little head again. You just proved my point.

Pearson: When that bell rings tonight, you won’t have to worry about the Black Crusade or Whitma….

Mika: Clearly this isn’t going to work, Lukas. The threat of physical violence doesn’t scare Kathryn. She proved that last week when she went toe to toe with Lohan. And she doesn’t respond to logic either. Instead of willingly working as a team this evening to take out Whitman, and help us send a message to Legion through torching his allies, here we stand, literally twisting her arm in a futile attempt to make her see the light.

To the side of Pearson, Mika steps, putting a forearm on the shoulder Lukas cleared of hair. She grabs a few strands herself, playing with them.

Mika: In what world are you living on, Pearson? You’re so naïve, you’re so gullible. You believed that David Helms really cared about you. You believed you would always be a part of your kid’s life. You believed that it be a smart idea to make enemies out of the Blacklist. And you believed we would actually team along such a little rebel.

The words end and gestures are instead employed, Mika nodding towards Lukas. Before Kathryn can react, she’s shoved with tremendous force shoulder first against the wall, possibly fracturing her clavicle and snapping the rotator cuff. Pearson collapses to the ground amidst screams of pain, anguish flowing down from her shoulder to her finger tips.

Lukas blows a kiss in her direction while Mika mimics the way that Kathryn waved goodbye to Lohan a few moments ago.

Mika: Maybe now you’ll learn to have a bit better control over your impulses…rookie.

Montgomery pantomimes a phone beside his ear, mouthing the words ‘call me.’ The only thing Kathryn needs to call is an ambulance, her shoulder in dire need of medical assistance.

A sigil continues to be drawn across the ground, Mr. Hush painstakingly putting his all into channeling his inner Bob Ross in order to complete his artistic rendering. Though, while Mr. Ross would employ a multitude of brushes varying in shape and size, Mr. Hush utilizes only a magic marker…working with the tools at his disposal. As if the task couldn’t be anymore difficult, the impatient tapping of Orlando’s foot against the floor, and the repeated groans only exacerbates Mr. Hush’s agitation.

Al: MR.HUSH WOULD LIKE FOR YOU TO REMEMBER WE’RE DOING THIS NOT OUT OF NECCESSITY, MY GOOD CHAP, BUT OUT OF PURE CURIOSITY. SO HE WOULD KINDLY REQUEST THAT YOU STOP BEING SUCH AN IMPETUOUS AND PEEVISH BORE.

Orlando ignores Al and continues to glare down at his watch.

Orlando: Is this going to take much longer. I have places I need to be?

Al: MAY I BE PERMITTED TO MAKE AN INQUIRY?

Orlando: Inquire away.

Says Orlando with a sigh and a rubbing of his temples.

Al: IT MIGHT BE PRESUMPTOUS OF ME TO MAKE ASSUMPTIONS REGARDING HOW THE SUPERLATIVE MR. GAUNT REACTS TO US AIDING YOU, BUT I’M GUESSING HE MIGHT BE IRKED. SO I THINK WE DESERVE TO KNOW WHY WE‘RE PLACING OURSELVES IN SUCH A CALAMITOUS POSITION.

Orlando: No…you DON’T deserve an answer. Not after everything you idiots have done to my good pal, Jacob Laymon, and the efforts you’ve went to in order to alienate my roster. But if it’ll help speed along the process, I’ll give the obligatory explanation. If I can show the Board of Directors that I’m capable of getting on the same page with the Black Crusade, by turning Legion into a corporate shill…

Al: A SHILL YOU SAY?

Orlando: Yes, by convincing him to take me up on my proposition for a match. Can you imagine it? The impact that would make on the Board of Directors? They would be bowled over to see that Cruze is capable of taking the most unruly of athletes, a man determined to create unrest in the IWC, and transforming him into a company man. The word monumental springs to mind.

Al: I LOATHE BEING PRESUMPTIOUS, BUT YOU MIGHT NOT GET VERY FAR IN THAT DEPARTMENT. WITHOUT MR. GAUNT, LEGION DOES NOT FAIR VERY WELL IN THE DECISION MAKING DEPARTMENT. AND MR. HUSH INFERS THAT YOUR PERHAPS…DESPERATE…THAT NO ONE ELSE WOULD BE YOUR PARTNER…AND LEGION IS A LAST ATTEMPT?

Orlando: Just get on with it.

He gestures to the sigil.

Al: FINE. BUT MR. HUSH WOULD LIKE TO REMIND YOU THAT HE’S NOT QUITE THE EXPERT WHEN IT COMES TO SUMMONING. HE’S ACTUALLY QUITE INEXPERIENCED IN THIS FIELD.

Orlando: Let’s just get this over with.

Al: I BELIEVE MR. HUSH IS READY.

Orlando: About time.

Al: MR. HUSH HAS RESPONDED WITH AN EXPLETIVE I CARE NOT TO REPEAT.

Mr. Hush, an obvious amateur when it comes to the art of conjuring, begins to wave his hands rhythmically over the emblem. The increasingly aggravated Icon glances down at his watch to see how much time has elapsed before seeing that the second and minute hands have stopped dead. Attention finally deviates from the watch to the lights, which begin to flicker and flash. Mr. Hush’s summoning spell seems to be creating quite a bit of havoc when it comes to everything electrical in the area. The lights finally shut off, and remain off for several seconds before slowly regaining their power.

Billy: Oh….oh yes….do it baby…curl that tail.

Is it Legion’s masked face that Orlando gazes upon….is it the N.H.B Champion who is caught under the ever watchful eyes of the Icon….is it the Anthropomorphic Personification of Hatred….No…but it’s definitely someone who is hated….someone who is loathed. Instead of clutching the N.H.B Championship…Billy Mayne has a Furry Fetish magazine stretched across his palms. Instead of being sat on a pile of bodies….Billy sits on a porcelain throne, his pants down around his ankles.

Billy: God I’d love to suck those whiskers.

Billy pulls the center-fold to his tongue and licks it all up and down. Once he reaches the edge of the magazine he opens his eyes and at last spots his captive audience. Mr. Hush is scratching at the back of his head, Al is gnawing at his nails, and Orlando is rolling his eyes.

Orlando: That is NOT Legion.

Al: WE WARNED YOU THAT MR. HUSH WAS NO EXPERT REGARDING THE BLACK-ARTS….THOUGH I’M SURE IF GIVEN ANOTHER OPPORTUNITY HE’LL…

Orlando: No…no…I’m far too busy to be playing around with the likes of the Black Crusade all night long. Thanks for this colossal waste of time.

From the room Cruze storms, leaving Billy and the toilet planted beneath him behind, as he nervously examines the faces of Al and Mr. Hush.

Billy: Please God tell me this is another dream…

He focuses entirely on Al.

Billy: Any minute now you’re going to turn into Mr. Peanut….

Hives begin to form on his skin.

Billy: Turn into Mr. Peanut damn you!

EARLIER THIS WEEK

P. Clarence Whitman III nervously overlooks an Applebee’s menu, but the last thing he wants to do right now is eat…considering his stomach is all a flutter in anticipation of his first date with Lois Prince. A handkerchief is extracted from her pocket and swiped across his sweaty brow before eyes nervously dart towards the waitress who passes by. He then digs into his pocket and removes a watch…yes…he actually has a gold plated pocket watch.

He then looks up from the watch and almost leaps out of his chair when he spots the woman seated across the table in front of him. How Silence got there without him noticing her arrival, is unfathomable for Whitman, but nevertheless, there a member of the Black Crusade now sits, staring over a table at Whitman.

Whitman: How…what…am I bladdered?

He closely studies the glass of water he just purchased to ensure there is not a drop of alcohol inside.

Silence: Georgie Porgie pudding pie

Kissed the girls and made them cry

When the boys came out to play

Georgie Porgie ran away

Whitman looks like a sufferer of PSTD, eyes wide, lower lip quivering, having several flashbacks to his numerous run ins with Mr. Hush over the past few weeks. Oh how he wishes there actually was alcohol mixed in with his water.

Whitman: What are you doing here? I’m on a date.

Silence: And the Black Crusade was informed of such.

Silence pretends that she’s examining the menu on the table before her.

Silence: I hear that the potato skins are really quite scrumptious.

Whitman: Would you kindly leave? Lois will be here any moment.

The menu is slapped to the table surface.

Silence: No need to be so uncivil, Clarence, you’re making a scene.

Of course Silence realizes that it’s her masked face and garish attire that is eliciting so many glances from the fellow Applebee’s patrons. Whitman isn’t glancing at anyone, not even Silence, the only thing he’s staring at are his palms, which hide his face.

To be continued

The World Heavyweight Championship shines in the clutches of Johnny Kingdom, who is captured in photograph form.

Frankie: Nice five o‘clock shadow bud? Can you grow ACTUAL facial hair?

The image is ripped in two and then tossed into the air. Another picture quickly takes its place, this one showcasing another former World Heavyweight Champion, AWOL.

Frankie: Have we ever had a World Champion who wasn’t bald?

This picture is crumbled up and tossed over the shoulder of Frankie Paradise, who sits in the studio chair from that same undisclosed location. From a small tray table he grabs another picture, turning the image to reveal the face of Christian Savior.

Frankie: Or one who doesn’t look like he just walked out of a friggin Charlene Harris novel?

The picture merely drops to the floor, Frankie showing no further interest in it, save for kicking it backwards under his chair. Yet another pic, this one featuring the painted mug of Silencer, shoulder draped with the World Championship.

Frankie: How about a champion with some class…with some honor…with some dignity?

A lighter is removed from Frankie’s pocket and held up to the corner of the picture, causing it to burst into flame. It’s dropped to the ground just as the flame nips at his fingers.

Frankie: Well….you do now…

The grin on his face is so sickening vomit wouldn’t be enough to quell the discomfort in the stomachs of the fans.

Frankie: You’ve got a champ with a terrific head of hair…a champion who looks like she just stepped out of the pages of Penthouse…a champion who could even grow facial hair if she wanted to, cause that’s just how awesome she is, she can do anything she sets her mind to…and a champion with some class to match that fantastic ass. Tay-Tay….Taylor Chase.

Frankie begins to snatch up all the photographs on the table beside him, featuring the many former World Champions in the IWC’s illustrious history. He stands up from the studio chair and throws all the pictures above his head, allowing them to disperse like confetti.

Frankie: Taylor…look at me….over here…

The braggadocios Paradise steps up onto the studio chair and extends his arms out to his sides as the litter of paper falls down around him.

Frankie: Look at this Taylor…it’s all for you…it’s all for you!

He falls off the chair after almost losing his footing, just barely catching himself before he hit’s the floor.

Frankie: Why? Because you earned it. You worked your whole career for this moment, and you shouldn’t let walking anal warts like Silencer, or Christian Savior, or Orlando Cruze, ruin this for you. This is your biggest moment…your DEFINING moment…your crowning achievement…though you probably wouldn’t wear a crown considering it might mess your hair…

The thought of Tay-Tay with a tangled fro annoys Paradise so.

Frankie: But nothing is going to mess this moment….because this is not just the crowning achiement of Tay-Tay…the biggest moment of Tay-Tay’s career…but what you’re about to see…what you’re all on the verge of witnessing…it’s the IWC’s crowning achievement…it’s the IWC’s biggest moment…for you at last are blessed with a World Champion, who’s has beautiful curves to go along with her beautiful mind. Ladies and gentlemen…I give to you….

He extends his palm towards the wall behind him.

Frankie: You’re NEW World Champion….TAYLOR CHASE!

There is a small pyro from the top of the wall as a long poster unravels like a scroll and extends from ceiling to floor, revealing an image of Taylor Chase holding up the World Heavyweight Championship.

Cameras suddenly turn to the entry way, where that same giant poster hangs from the Cartel-Tron to the stage, completely covering the entry way. After a few moments it rips right down the middle and through it steps the authentic..flesh and blood Taylor Chase. She steps forward with World Title held aloft, soaking in the reaction from the crowd…which isn’t very positive.

Dollar: And here it is…the moment we’ve all been waiting for Susie…

Susie: A Bob striptease?

Dollar: No, the arrival of the NEW World Heavyweight Champion…one we can FINALLY be proud of…Taylor Chase.

Susie: Oh…no striptease then?

Dollar: If we’re lucky.

“Boss’s Daughter” begins to pipe through the loud speakers as Taylor embarks towards the ring, ready for her first IWC World Heavyweight Title coronation….not that she thinks there will be many…as she has no intent on EVER losing the World Championship now that it’s finally in her grasp. Everything is in place to make this moment truly memorable, from the streamers wrapped around the ropes, to the presence of her father and sisters at ringside, Madison, Ashley Marie and the Brod giving her a standing ovation. Past them she struts in her lavish dress, and through the streamers she slides before finally ending up in the ring, where she once again raises the World Title belt between both hands. The moment the belt is elevated, pyrotechnics explode from the turnbuckles and the scaffolding…followed by confetti descending upon the ring and the crowd. Balloons actually tumble as well, being tossed around by some excited fans.

Dollar: What a moment this is is, Susie, bask in this…bask in this.

Susie: How come Rose Savior didn’t get a celebration like this?

Dollar: Maybe if she did a bit more to endear herself to the fans she would have got confetti, she would have got balloons, she would have got pyrotechnics…but instead all her attitude earned was the worst beat down of her entire life.

Taylor looks surprisingly stoic, yet still oozes arrogance and confidence as she twists in circles amongst the almost blinding array of confetti and balloons. At long last she’s forced to drop the World Championship, placing it on her shoulder so she can free up a hand to grab a microphone.

Tay-Tay: You didn’t believe in me, did you?

Her free hand caresses the Championship.

Tay-Tay: You never believed you would see this image, did you?

That caressing hand now carries the belt, extending it to her side.

Tay-Tay: You never believed that Taylor Chase, would stand in the center of an IWC ring, and declare herself the one TRUE World Heavyweight Champion, did you?

The reaction from the crowd is indicative of her suspicions.

Tay-Tay: Well…the proof…as they say…is in the pudding…or I guess as my Dad would put it…the proof is in his Pumpkin.

The Brod smiles with rosey red cheeks at ringside, actually blushing due to the overwhelming emotions he feels at that very moment.

Tay-Tay: Because I did believe…I did believe in myself…I did believe everyone would see this image…I did believe that I would stand in this ring and declare that I am the TRUE World Heavyweight CHAMPION!!…I DID IT! I DID IT!!!

The belt is repeatedly raised above her head to mass heckles and dejection from the crowd.

Tay-Tay: I DID IT! I DID IT!!

To the turnbuckle she dashes, kicking off her high heels in order to climb to the middle rope, where she twirls the championship like a helicopter propeller above her head.

Tay-Tay: I DID IT! I DID IT!!

To the outside Taylor rolls before slapping her palm on the surface of the announce table and dangling the World Championship in front of the faces of Dollar and Susie.

Tay-Tay: I DID IT! I DID IT!!

Around the ringside area Tay-Tay runs, swiping the World Title in front of all the faces of the fans in the front row. As she passes Madison, the two high five one another and then Tay-Tay rolls back in the ring where she continues to create a spectacle.

Tay-Tay: That’s right…suck it bitches.. Because Tay-Tay DID IT! She won the World Heavyweight Championship. She proved everyone wrong. Everyone who underestimated me. Everyone who thought I wasn’t World Champion material. Everyone who treated me like a joke. Everyone who walked all over me because they thought I was an ineffectual idiot who could never get the job done. Well now all those people who looked down their noses at me…All those people who thought I was a nothing…a non threat…there looking up at me…looking up at me as the World Heavyweight Champion…and dreaming they could be, Tay-Tay.

Dollar: Some nights I dream that I’m WITH Tay-Tay.

Tay-Tay: Fitting isn’t it? That everyone who thought they were better than me, now wants to be me? But they never will. Because there’s only one Taylor Chase, only one woman who can rise above all the obstacles, above all the naysayers, above all the hate to stand out here and proudly declare…I DID IT!!!

She leaps into the air and holds the World Heavyweight Championship above her head.

Tay-Tay: Do any of you…any of you honestly think you’d persevere through all the filth…all the garbage…all the crap that was thrown at them like I did? That any of you would have the courage…the passion…the determination to see it through…to obtain their career goal…even after being screwed over time and time again? Anyone else would have left this company. Would have gone off running and hiding if they were subjected to the persecution I’ve been subjected to. Just because I choose to let my heart guide me, it’s made me into a social pariah amongst the roster. You see it on Twitter every single day…idiots coming out of the woodworks in order to slander me…And then I come to work and get the same treatment in the locker-room…My peers steal my clothing…they make discouraging comments to my face and behind it…and they go out of their way to try and sabotage my career. And then I come to this ring, and I hear it from you, the fans. I hear you chant ‘slut.’ I hear you cheer when you see Rose Savior hit me in the head with a Singapore Cane. I hear you laugh when you see Bob running around in MY designer apparel. And I hear you support the likes of Silencer…Leeland Gaunt…Christian Savior…Disco Ninja…everyone who hates on me simply for being the better athlete…and because I choose to follow my heart.

She scowls at the fans, who cheer at the names she’s just mentioned, totally ignoring the statement she was TRYING to make.

Tay-Tay: No one would have stuck around and endured all of this….would have put up with such a hostile work-place, and with such hostile smart marks who desperately cling to what the IWC USED to be, instead of what it can be…and what it WILL be, now that Taylor Chase is the World Champion. Because unlike everyone of you…I endured…I endured everything…and now I’m a champion who is about to institute change around here.

The new World Champion paces amongst the confetti, kicking a few balloons out of her way.

Tay-Tay: The old days are in our past…the old IWC…it’s dead….it closed for a reason…because people were desperate for something different. I’m the embodiment of that change…of that evolution….

Katelyn: Blah…blah…BLAH!!

Dollar: Oh come on, let the woman have her moment.

To a huge ovation, Katelyn Buehler comes stepping through the curtains with microphone in hand and annoyed expression on her face.

Buehler: You want to talk about old? Well hearing you stand out here blabbering like a dumb bitch got real old…real fast.

The audacious Katelyn shows absolutely no fear…no trepidation whatsoever about climbing up the steps and to the apron, getting on eye level of with the menacing Tay-Tay. Chase keeps smiling in spite of the fact that her title coronation has been interrupted.

Dollar: Katelyn, the woman is set to challenge Tay-Tay for the World Championship in our main event this evening, is really doing herself no favors when that match rolls around.

Buehler winces as she bends down to slide through the ropes, still wearing all the war wounds of her highly physical match against Ducky from last week. Nevertheless, in spite of the bandages, and many internal injuries that plague her, Buehler steps right into the ring across from the Champion.

Buehler: You’ve only been World Champion for two weeks, and I’m already sick of you….you already bore me.

Tay-Tay rolls her eyes.

Buehler: You represent nothing new, Tay-Tay. I’ve been here throughout the years. I’ve seen people come out here and say the exact same things your saying…do the exact same dance your doing…and make the exact same promises they’re destined to never back up. I’ve seen people exploit the powers that be time after time to get what they want. If you really desired doing something different. You would have taken the proper route to the World Championship…the respectable route. You have worked for it. You would have put in the time…the effort…you would have scraped and clawed your way to the top like I’ve been doing for so many years now….

Tay-Tay: Years? Did I hear that correctly….YEARS!?!

The mic is lowered from Buehler’s lips, knowing exactly where this is going.

Tay-Tay: There’s the difference between you and I….one of many actually. While you’re content with sitting around and waiting to get your opportunity…I take it…I do whatever is necessary to take the championship….I’m not some bimbo who waits around till I’m collecting cobwebs in my panties, waiting for an opportunity to come my way. I have the ambition…I have the drive…to do whatever it takes….

Katelyn: Don’t you mean…do WHOMEVER it takes?

Tay-Tay’s eyes flutter as she TRIES to maintain her composure.

Katelyn: And you know what….Tay-Tay…maybe your right? Maybe I’ve been too complacent waiting around…waiting for my opportunity. But that was only because I was too afraid…too afraid to stand up and challenge for the Championship out of the fear that I’d end up looking like nothing more than a joke…That I’d end up only embarrassing Porno Lad and my whole family. But I’ve bided my time. I’ve worked my way up to the title match between us tonight…I’ve worked my way up to the moment, where I can proudly stand here and declare…I DID IT…I’ve beaten fear.

Suddenly Buehler dashes forward and crashes shoulder first into the ribs of Tay-Tay, taking her down with the spear to an explosive response from the crowd.

Dollar: Buehler is on top of Tay-Tay! And although this is how many of my sexual fantasies have played out in the past, they never started quite like this.

Susie: Katelyn has beaten her fear, and now she looks to beat the champ.

Straddling Tay-Tay’s chest, Buehler begins to lift up on her head, repeatedly ramming the back of it against the canvas again and again, possibly inflicting some brain-damage in the process. The Chase family does not like what they’re seeing from ringside.

Katelyn wraps her hands around the throat of a stunned World Champion, actually strangling her at this point. Finally Chase lifts a leg into the air, wedges it to the bicep of Katelyn and pushes her arm away. She then rolls over backwards to her feet and then rips away the bottom of her long evening gown, revealing that it was a rip away intended to do nothing more than hide the steel knee brace. She rushes straight at Buehler and leaps into the air for the TKO but Katelyn wisely moves out of the way, pushing her along into the ropes. Taylor’s knee hits the top rope, and she goes flipping over it as a result, landing on the apron knees first as a result.

Buehler then comes rushing in to get her hands on Tay-Tay, only to have Chase drop down out of the way, evading the attempted assault. Therefore Katelyn storms to the center of the ring in an absolute huff, snatching up the shoes Tay-Tay removed seconds ago, and pitching them to the outside of the ring right at their owner. Chase avoids them, swatting aside her high heels in order to grab something else, a microphone that has spilled to the mats.

Tay-Tay: You want to prove yourself, Buehler…you want to prove you have no fear…then you won’t be afraid to fight me right NOW for the World Championship. I say let’s not wait till later tonight, and let’s get this main event started!

A second isn’t even taken for Buehler to consider the offer, instantly nodding and then encouraging Chase to enter the ring. Buehler bends down, hands wedged to knees, eyes firmly locked on the Champion, who begins to approach the ring, ready for her first Championship defense.

Dollar: We’re getting it right here, right now, Susie. No more waiting. We’re about to see Taylor Chase versus Katelyn Buehler for the World heavyweight Championship….this is huge.

Tay-Tay climbs up onto the apron when a familiar voice screams through the PA system.

Silencer: Whoa…whoa…whoa…whoa…WHOA!

Much like Lohan and Haze, Tay-Tay becomes the second lady this evening to glare up at the Cartel-Tron at the smug expression on Silencer’s face.

Dollar: Oh lord. I guess Silencer is making good on his promise to make Taylor Chase’s night miserable.

A headshake is elicited from Chase at the sight of the grinning Cagero, knowing that absolutely no good can come of this.

Silencer: Yoo-hoo, Tay-Tay, did you think I‘d forget about you? Of course not.

Taylor does a full on sneer.

Silencer: Seems like you really want to go at it with Katelyn tonight, and far be it from me to deprive the fans some girl on girl hotness…BUT…there seems to be something missing from this whole equation. This match doesn’t look set. Let’s see, we have two opponents eager to face each other…we’ve got a time keeper…we’ve got a ring bell…we’ve got the smoken hot Susie at ringside, and the totally not, Johnny Dollar ready to TRY and provide some commentary. But what’s missing…what could it be…I can’t put my finger on it nor in it. Ah yes. That’s what it is…There’s no referee.

Dollar: Not again.

Silencer: And that referee is someone with experience keeping you in line, Tay-Tay…someone you’re quite familiar with.

The tunes provided by the Beejees immediately booms through the speakers and a disco ball lowers from the rafters, hanging above the ring. On cue That Disco Ninja rolls from under the ring and leaps to his feet, gyrating and dancing around in his referee jersey. Instead of hiding beneath the squared circle he now hops on top of it, where he is still dancing around in his striped shirt.

Dollar: Good lord no…just no…not that same disco dancing idiot who screwed Taylor out of the World Championship at Awakening.

Susie: As if I couldn’t be anymore excited with panties on…That Disco Ninja shows up to referee the match and keep Tay-Tay at bay-bay.

Dollar: This is a flagrant violation of the powers that Silencer and…OHHH!

As Disco is about to dance his way through the ropes, Brittany Lohan leaps over the barricade, rushes across the mats and slams her crowbar into the back of his knee. That Disco Ninja collapses ot his back then twists to the outside mats, immediately reaching for his leg, grabbing at the swelling mass with both hands.

Dollar: Lohan attacking out of nowhere and keeping That Disco Ninja from being able to referee this match presumably.

Susie: So I guess we won’t even get disco dancing then? We’re still stuck with tap?

Dollar: Brittany doing as she promised….watching Tay-Tay’s back…She was lying in wait…because I’m assuming that they saw this coming, in the same way Silencer knew that they were going to try and get the drop on him in our last match.

The injured knee is the least of Disco’s concerns, because Brittany is still standing over him intent on inflicting further damage. She nails him in the ribs with the crowbar, and then delivers another shot to the knee, wearing him out with her weapon. Tay-Tay watches this unfold with a grin on her face before winking in the direction of a nearby camera.

Tay-Tay: Sorry Silencer…sorry Blacklist…but it looks like WE‘RE the ones taking over tonight.

The repeated blows from the crowbar persist until Axl Evermore comes barreling down the ramp and around the ring, hell-bent and determined to aid his employee.

Dollar: Axl coming to the rescue of Disco…BUT WAIT!

Evermore doesn’t even make it all the way down the ramp before he’s clobbered to the back of the head by Gavin Taylor of all people.

Dollar: Gavin Taylor pouncing on Evermore before he could reach the ring, he’s mugging him.

Susie: But what else does Axl have left to steal? His briefcase was already taken from him last week by this very same guy.

Axl needs no reminding of what happened last week, the thought of Gavin employing Isaac Saine to beat him down so Taylor could abscond with the Evolution Championship is still fresh in his mind. That’s why Axl is already back on his feet and already fired up. Right and lefts connect to Gavin’s ribs, backing him up the ramp while Taylor clobbers him over the back via clubbing blows. The two twist their way towards the curtains while punishing one another. On the exterior of the ring another fight continues to wage on as That Disco Ninja tries to get back up only to be slammed to the top of the skull with the crowbar. Lohan then grabs him around his fractured skull, stands him up and throws him over the barricade into the crowd. She then follows after her mangled prey.

Dollar: Disco Ninja and Evermore taken out before they could play a role in this mach. And did I hear Tay-Tay correctly? Did she just say that she and her friends are taking over Riot!?!

Susie: I think she said something about break dancing…

Dollar: You have even more selective hearing than me.

Susie: I want more break-dance, and less tap. I still think Executioner could be a grand break dancer.

The only thing breaking right now are the spirits of the IWC fan base as their heroes are swept aside by Taylor Chase and all those in her collective. To make matters even more disheartening for the masses, referee Alex Ingelson has been plucked from the officiating staff by none other than Adam Chase, Tay-Tay’s uncle. He is dragged to the stage and then forced down the ramp with a good ole fashion kick to the backside to give him some momentum.

Dollar; And there will be no special referees this time…

Susie: Hey, that’s mean. Ingelson is very special. His skin is so pale he technically glows in the dark.

Dollar: I mean, there will be no Disco Ninja to interfere in the outcome of this match, Taylor Chase, Brittany Lohan and Gavin Taylor have just made sure of that. As the FAMILY takes control of Riot!, right out of the hands of the Motherfuckers.

Susie: He’s so pale that if he stood on a dark stretch of land planes might mistake him as runway lighting.

Dollar: Enough. This match is getting underway, and Tay-Tay has ensured that Silencer will not play a factor in its outcome…

Ingelson slides into the ring and motions for the bell while Adam Chase is making a different type of motion, giving his brother, the Brod, a thumbs up, which naturally is reciprocated.

Tay-Tay takes a moment to appreciate the brotherly bond between her uncle and father…but all that appreciation ends up very badly for the gorgeous World Champion. Her eyes were off the prize, allowing Buehler to come barreling across the ring and dive over the ropes intro a cross body. It connects with Chase’s chest, knocking both woman off the apron and down hard to the outside mats.

Dollar: Holy shits…What a way to start this World Title match!

Susie: Ingelson is so white he could be the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man’s British brother.

Just about everyone is on their feet, save of course for Champion and Challenger, who are both in the process of writhing across the mats. Surprisingly, a very fired up Buehler struggles to her feet, grabbing at her still banged up body. But her physical limitations will not hold her back, not when there is so much…so many high stakes on the line. She steps towards Tay-Tay, who has employed the apron to reach her feet, and delivers a knife edge chop across the chest.

Fans: WOOO!

Another chop nails Tay-Tay’s sternum.

Fans: WOOO!

Clearly the crowd is enjoying seeing Chase get what’s coming to her, especially after hearing her egotistical pre-match comments. Buehler at last takes her by the bangs, leads her around in a circle and then rolls her into the ring.

Dollar: Katelyn has been riding this emotional tidal wave since last week. I think we’ve never seen her this fired up.

Susie: I think Elmer’s Glue has more pigment than Ingelson.

Dollar: This is really starting to get lame.

Susie: But I have so many more.

Buehler climbs up onto the apron and begins to slide through the ropes towards the Champion still stretched across her back. She reaches through the cables to get hands around Tay-Tay’s throat when Chase lifts her feet, wedges them to Katelyn’s chest and pushes up with her legs. As a result of the forceful kick, the back of Katelyn’s head hit’s the top rope, causing significant whiplash. She then falls down, hanging ribs first over the middle rope while Tay-Tay bolts into the perpendicular cables. She springs off and then delivers a flip over neck breaker, pulling Buehler through the ropes and causing the back of her skull to hit the canvas rather forcefully.

Dollar: Sure, Katelyn has passion….sure she has fire….sure she has motivation. But that’ll get you nothing but a big bag of skittles when you’re facing someone who has the experience of Taylor Chase.

Katelyn isn’t even given a chance to fight her way up as Tay-Tay already has a handful of her hair and is using it to pluck the challenger to her feet. Holding Katelyn in place by her bangs, Taylor delivers one right hand after another to her forehead, Buehler becomes increasingly unstable, but remains upright just long enough for Taylor to spin around into a big discus punch that nails her opposition between the eyes. Buehler is staggered but not taken down, as it eventually takes a discus lariat from Tay-Tay to knock challenger to canvas.

Even though Katelyn is shaken up and banged up by these repeated blows, all of which targeting her head and neck, she starts to crawl in the direction of the cables. The ropes provide a prop to reach her knees just as Tay-Tay rushes in behind her, goes airborne and crashes down rump first across the back of her neck, driving Buehler’s throat into the middle cable. It snaps her throat back but Katelyn eventually remains straddling the middle cable jaw first.

Tay-Tay continues to take full umbrage with the rules, throwing her leg over the back of Katelyn’s head while pulling up on the middle rope, successfully choking the very life out of her amidst a five count from the official.

Predictably she breaks at four but only so that she can place both boots on the back of Buehler’s shoulders, and actually stand on top of her back this time, holding the top rope in order to provide proper balance and stability.

Dollar: Taylor is a true in ring general…her craftsmanship between those ropes is superb. She knows where she’s at…and what she’s doing at all times. And it’s that level of uncanny awareness that makes her such a threat.

Susie: I’d be more threatened by that human q-tip in the ring with her, Billy. If she stares too long at him she might end up suffering permanent retinal damage.

Another five count gets Chase to break another choke. She leaps off of Katelyn’s back, right over the top rope before landing on the apron.. She then dashes across it and delivers a swift kick to the temple of Buehler, knocking her off the middle rope and back into the ring.

Buehler rolls to the center and TRIES to stand up but doesn’t have much luck given the injuries she suffered last week, and the fast paced brutality she’s already endured throughout the course of this World Title bout. That brutality only gets worse as Tay-Tay descends upon her opponent, snatching hold of a handful of hair.

She yanks back on the locks and takes hold of Katelyn’s jaw, shouting into her ear at this point.

Tay-Tay: Seriously? You thought you were in my league? That I’d let someone like YOU take away what I had to suffer so much to….

A back elbow to the ribs finally shuts Tay-Tay up, doubling her over her traumatized mid-section. Katelyn goes a step further to close her mouth permanently, standing up and delivering a good old fashion, smash mouth upper cut. The strike connects and sends the World Champion into a spiral. But she twists out of the spiral right into a roaring elbow that misses its mark, Buehler ducking this time.

Tay-Tay then turns into another circle, only to be caught with a second uppercut to the jaw. This one sends spit flying and Tay-Tay into another spiral, turning into a boot to the ribs that doubles her over. Katelyn then takes her around the neck and rushes forward into the bulldog only to be shoved off mere seconds before Tay-Tay’s face could be imploded by canvas. The forward momentum causes an already unstable Buehler to lose her footing and go tumbling throat first into the middle rope.

She leans over it just as Tay-Tay comes barreling up behind her and leaps into the air, landing seat first across the back of….no…Buehler ducked down out of the way, causing Chase to go sailing right over top of her. The World Champion flies through the ropes and lands rather gracefully feet first across the outside mats.

Buehler then stands up and grabs the top rope, preparing to pull herself over into another cross body. She starts to leap only to grimace in pain, grabbing at her mid-section as she finally feels the pain of the violence inflicted upon her by Ducky last week.

Tay-Tay reacts quickly, grabbing Buehler by the ankles and yanking her feet out from under her. The World Champion then drags her by the legs under the ropes and out of the ring. Buehler lands, less than gracefully on the mats, and then receives a knife edge chop across the chest. It seems that Challenger and Champion are re-enacting what unfolded mere moments ago, but now with roles reversed, as Buehler finds herself subjected to the knife edge chops while propped against the apron.

Dollar: How does it feel Buehler? How does it feel to get your comeuppance?

Susie: Ewww.

Dollar: I shudder to think what you THOUGHT I just said.

Another knife edge chop cracks across Katelyn’s chest and almost buckles her knees. Tay-Tay takes Katelyn by the wrist and whips her straight into the barricade. Buehler’s ribcage slams violently into the barrier, arm falling over it as the only means of propping up her body.

The World Champion yawns before charging at Buehler and throwing a lariat that Katelyn ducks before rushing at the ring and sliding in under the ropes. Chase spins around just as Katelyn leaps over the ropes and crashes down right on top of her with a big cross body that gets the crowd blowing their wads in response.

Dollar: Well that’s surprising.

Susie: The fact that you don’t have to wear sunglasses around Ingelson?

Dollar: The fact that Buehler gets in any offense whatsoever against our World Champion. Though I guess she did prove something last week in that absolute blood-letting against Ducky.

Susie: Yeah, but I don’t know, she’s just not as fiery as we saw last week. Intense yes, but not as fiery.

Champion and Challenger are suffering the ill-effects of that last dive, but the champion is surprisingly the first to begin moving. She gets up when Katelyn charges in, wedges a shoulder to her ribs, and charges her back first into the steel steps. Tay-Tay’s spine hits the stairs with the force of a baseball bat swung into her kidneys. She reaches for her lower back as Katelyn comes barreling in to take her out with another shoulder to the ribs, but this time Chase side-steps her, throwing her along into the steel.

But Katelyn alters Tay-Tay’s plan by leaping into the air, landing on top of the steel steps then quickly leaping off and twisting in mid-air. The World Champion is caught with the Lou Thez Press, which Katelyn manages to botch…her forearm twisting as it collides with the mats.

A grimace forms on her face as she grabs at her elbow and wrist…but she at last blocks the pain and begins to deliver left after left to the face of Chase, now that her right has been rendered useless by that bad landing. The fans cheer over each and every blow that connects between Tay-Tay’s eyes, relishing the punishment she’s receiving.

The fists continue to fly until they almost drawl blood from beneath the surface, but Katelyn stops in order to break the official’s ten count. She then rolls back to the apron, shaking off her arm and getting ready to go airborne. Her patience pays off as Tay-Tay gets to her feet and then looks up as Katelyn dashes across the apron and is about to take flight only to trip herself up, She falls face first into the apron and then grabs at the ropes, keeping herself from plummeting down to the mats.

Dollar: Buehler with another botch….she just landed square on her face. But it looks like she’s had a lot of nasty landings on that face already. She didn’t botch a single move last week did she?

Susie: You’re asking me this? You do realize they just added Robsessed: Life of Robert Pattinson to Netflix right? I was literally glued to that all last week and just gave the occasionally pat response.

Buehler drags herself back up to her feet, albeit bent over when Tay-Tay leaps to the apron in front of her and jumps into the air, catching the neck of the challenger and dragging her skull down into a DDT. Katelyn’s skull is possibly cracked by the collision with the apron and the fissure that was opened in her scalp last week against Ducky is now oozing blood once again.

Dollar; And she’s bleeding…AGAIN…I thought that only happened once a month.

Buehler rolls back into the ring with blood dribbling down her forehead while Taylor climbs to the apron and then steps across it to the turnbuckle, scaling slowly to the top rope. A rare sight is witnessed as Chase takes to the air, nailing the flying elbow drop right to the forehead of Buehler, further lacerating her.

Dollar: And for the first time since she’s joined our illustrious roster, Taylor Chase has gone high risk….paying off with the retention of her championship.

Chase rises to her knees and begins to swipe the blood from the point of her elbow, flicking it towards Buehler, returning it to sender. She then non-chalantly falls into the cover, hooking the creases of Katelyn’s knees.

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To Taylor’s annoyance, Katelyn kicks out, launching a shoulder from the canvas.

Dollar: Buehler evading another pinfall. But she just doesn’t have the same spunk she did last week.

Buehler agonizingly gets to her elbows and knees when Tay-Tay steps in, wraps an arm around Katelyn’s waist, forcing her back up to her feet and then flipping her over into the Honesty Plex.

It looks like Katelyn just starred in a David Cronenberg film, with so much gratuitous volumes of blood cascading down her face. Like a shark, Tay-Tay is lured in, playfully nudging Katelyn over to her back and then placing a knee on top of her chest, using it to wedge her down to the canvas.

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Another kick out by Buehler results in a massive pop from the crowd.

Dollar: How much blood is Katelyn willing to loose, and how much punishment is she willing to take?

Susie: There’s a big gold sparkly on the line, Johnny…you fight your body, heart and soul out of the biggest of big sparklies.

With a roll of her eyes, Tay-Tay rolls the body of Buehler to her knees, drags her head under her posterior, and then throws her arms out to her sides. In the process she shakes her head and throws in a few derogatory slaps over the lower back of her opponent turned prey.

Tay-Tay: Did you really think she could be me? That she could rise above the obstacles? You’re wrong, so wrong. Time to prove it.

Tay-Tay raises Katelyn into the air, holds her upside down and then drops to her seat, connecting with the pulling piledriver. Buehler is put down right on top of her head and then collapses to the canvas like a totally limp noodle. Halloween has truly started early, because Buehler’s face is covered by a mask…a mask of blood.

Taylor swipes the crimson off her knees and then crawls into the cover, hooking a leg this time, perhaps taking Buehler a bit more seriously.

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Tay-Tay wonders if its some kind of practical joke when Ingelson informs her that the Challenger kicked out.

If it is a joke, Tay-Tay isn’t laughing, and the fans find it even less funny when Chase plays the part of killjoy, grabbing the blood soaked locks of her opposition and pulls her head under her seat. With another sigh Tay-Tay hoists Buehler up and drops her square on top of her skull with another pulling piledriver.

Dollar: Two piledrivers SPIKING Buehler right on top of her head. This girl is a lot tougher to put away than Chase thought she’d be.

The totally busted and bludgeoned Buehler lies on the canvas, totally motionless, totally void of any semblance of consciousness. Chase just wants this to be over at this point, evident as she actually hooks BOTH legs this time.

Dollar: Don’t kick out Buehler…don’t kick out…It’s become apparent that Porno Lad was right when he tried to dissuade Katelyn not to participate in this match before it got started.

Susie: I love Porno Lad, almost as much as I love beanie babies, but nobody could ever dissuade me from participating in a match with a big shinny on the line. The big shiny is the ultimate motivator.

Dollar: You know what, Susie, add the word ‘shiny’ to the banned list, right alongside Glitter, and Santa With Muscles.

Susie: Don’t stifle me!

Blood stains are left on the canvas where Buehler’s head was just planted, and now she is left with batting eyes, looking up into the spotlights shining down and enhancing her crimson smeared skull. There seems to be nothing left for her to do regarding the pending failure to capture the World Championship,

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The joke must have been one in really poor taste…or really too soon….because Tay-Tay wears the type of frown that would lead one to believe that she just saw a thousand puppies being ritualistically slaughtered. And now Katelyn is about to ACTUALLY be slaughtered, as Tay-Tay drags her around to her knees and props her blood soaked face up by the jaw.

Dollar: I suppose I’ve GOT to give props to Buehler…her threshold for pain and resiliency have been amazing in this match, and last week. But yeah…don’t think she’ll have a very long career at this point.

Susie: It might not be long, but it will be glorious if she wins tonight.

A victory would be a miracle, considering it be win enough for Katelyn to just be able to walk away from this match after all is said and done. Her persistence is only aggravating Chase, who drags her blood saturated opponent along to her knees and drags her head into position for a third and decisive pulling piledriver, one that would leave Buehler incapable of drawing breathes…let alone kicking out.

She just starts to drag the head between her legs when Katelyn goes crawling right through, ending up behind her opponent. Chase looks surprised, and is even more stunned when she spins around and finds the top of Katelyn’s head driven directly into her stomach, doubling her over. She grabs at her mid-section and grimaces from the trauma before stepping right back in, this time receiving a forearm to the ribs, knocking her back a few paces.

She fights through the pain and rushes at Buehler, who suddenly stands up and delivers another forearm, this time on the jaw. Tay-Tay is shaken, but not taken down. She catches herself and then charges forward into a shot of her own, that is blocked and countered with yet another forearm from the bloodied Buehler.

Dollar: Are you kidding me? Katelyn is actually fighting back? At last we’re starting to see the same intensity from her tonight, as we did in that drag out brawl with Ducky last week.

Susie: Look at her, the only thing white on her face are her eyes, and they’re just as bright as Ingelson’s skin.

Tay-Tay refuses to believe that this is happening, stepping in to deliver an attempted blow only to have her fist blocked a second time. Buehler then grabs Chase around the back of the head, holding her in place so that she can deliver forearm after forearm after forearm after forearm. The crowd loses count of how many forearms have just connected and continue to connect against the skull of the World Champion. Chase’s legs begins to cut out from under her, yet Katelyn holds her up so that she can subject her to another devastating forearm right to the cheek and the temple.

Buehler then follows this up by rushing forward into yet another forearm, but Tay-Tay ducks at the last second. The forearm goes right over her head and Chase takes off into the ropes behind her opponent. The cables give Chase some momentum, carrying her forward right into a diving forearm smash from Buehler that has the crowd reacting in total shock.

Dollar: Katelyn NAILING a forearm strike right bwteeen Tay-Tay’s eyes…though I wonder if she would have delivered that move with a bit more brutality if she were capable of using her right arm at the moment.

Susie: She’s got the Champ down…Tay-Tay is down and Katelyn could be closing in on her dream.

With fluttering eyes Chase clings to consciousness, trying to will her way back to her feet…but surprisingly Buehler is already getting up in spite of so much blood-loss. She TRIES to nip up to her feet but can’t quite pull it off with the razzle-dazzle of the Heartbreak Kid, instead her knees buckle and she falls on her butt. Quickly thereafter, Katelyn employs her one good arm, the right still feeling the ill effects of that botched Lou Thez Press. She stomps her foot and points down at the still kneeling Chase, perhaps signaling for her own version of the Epic Fail.

Dollar: This really cannot be happening…tell me we’re not actually about to see Katelyn become World Heavyweight Champion. I’ll throw myself off the top of the highest building if that happens.

Susie: I think the Empire State building is pretty high. I know I always got a nose bleed when I venture to the top of it.

Dollar: Okay…maybe I’ll start a little smaller. I’ll throw myself off the announce table, how’s that? Bottom dollar is this…I’ll lose it should Buehler actually pull this off.

Buehler is unleashing a primal, fierce roar through the blood that cascades down her face as she backs into one of the turnbuckles and stomps her foot. Hype is generated, every fan standing up and rallying behind the Challenger, realizing that she is on the cusp of closing in on the biggest achievement of her career….of her life.

Dollar: I’m not seeing this…I’m not…I’m totally going to live in denial if that’s what it takes.

Susie: Come on Katelyn….hit it….hit it!! Deliver the Epic Fail already…COME ON!

Pain addles Buehler, and blood loss is taking its toll, but Katelyn is rising above all of it, fighting through it all in order to deliver the very finishing move than won her man, Porno Lad, the World Heavyweight Title. The zombified Buehler cries out, insisting that Tay-Tay get up, which is exactly what Chase is doing. She stands up, stooped forward and looking glassy eyed before Buehler steps in and begins to nail the spinning super kick only for her heel to slip, ultimately losing her footing and putting her down mto the canvas across her knees.

Dollar: She just botched AGAIN…she looked like she was going to….AHHHH!

Dollar’s change in tone is in response to Tay-Tay capitalizing on her opponent’s slip, darting forward and leaping into the TKO, her steel knee brace slamming directly into Buehler’s bloodied temple.

Dollar: The TKO! The TKO DRILLIN’ Buehler right in the temple.

Susie: Noooo…she was so close…Katelyn almost hit the Epic Fail.

Dollar: But she botched it to devastating results.

Buehler flies back off of her knees and lays comatose on the canvas as Tay-Tay scrambles into the cover. The World Champion again hooks both legs, pulling up on them and in the process turning so that she can wedge a forearm against Katelyn’s blood smeared brow.

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Dollar: Is it enough…Is the TKO enough to put Buehler away?

In spite of all the begging, in spite of all the pleading, Katelyn just doesn’t have it in her to kick out of the TKO, the shot from the steel plated knee brace of Chase was at last too much for her to come back from, evident as Ingelson’s hand comes down for the third and decisive slap of the canvas.

Dollar: Oh lord…oh God…oh Jesus ‘Tap’….

Susie: Tap?

Dollar: Fine…Jesus ‘Break Dancing’ Christ…

Susie: Better.

Dollar; Taylor Chase with her first successful defense of the World Heavyweight Championship…but by God did she have to work for it. Because Katelyn just wouldn’t stay down.

Susie: She was like a zombie…only a really cute one.

Though Buehler kicked out again and again and again, to the point where it seemed nothing would douse the flames of her passion for capturing the World Heavyweight Championship, she was eventually undone by yet another botch, which led to the cranium crushing TKO…a TKO that led to this moment, Taylor standing triumphantly above her body…but NOT with the World Championship in hand.

Though Chase should have her just deserved spotlight after an intense World Title bout, all eyes are instead focused on the exterior of the ring, where the World Championship belt has been torn right out of the clutches of the time keeper and is being held by none other than the Icon.

Dollar: Taylor Chase reaching another career milestone here tonight as she retains the World Heavyweight Title over this incredibly tough Katelyn Buehler….But in the end….wait…what the hell are you doing here Cruze? And what are you doing with the World Championship!?!

Susie: He just can’t let it go. Just like I can’t let go Ducktales…it should still be on the air fuck-dammit.

The World Championship is thrown over…not Tay-Tay’s shoulder, but the Icon’s. It takes a few moments for Chase to come to the realization that its not just her thunder that’s being stolen, it’s the World Heavyweight Championship.. Focus is removed from her celebration, from the smiling faces of her family at ringside, and instead transition to Orlando darting around the ring and up the ramp with the World Title in his possession.

Dollar: This self obsessed son of a bitch is taking off with Taylor’s title! Can’t you let anyone…even the apparent love of your life have but a moment of recognition?

Susie: But that belt is so precious…it’s all symbolic and stuff…sure it does much more than just hold up your pants.

Though he should just keep on walking Orlando can’t help himself, he turns around and directs his statements to an equal parts confused and enraged Tay-Tay.

Orlando: I HAVE to do this, Tay-Tay…I HAVE to.

At last he vanishes through the curtains with Chase shouting at him from the ring.

Tay-Tay: What are you thinking, you BASTARD! Bring it back….bring back my title!!

Dollar: Again Orlando is stealing the World Heavyweight Championship! He just won’t let anyone have a moment in the spotlight.

Susie: Isn’t he slated to face Tay-Tay for the title at Upping the Ante? Wasn’t he tricked into signing a contract to face her for the belt? Maybe he’s just trying to protect Tay-Tay by making sure she’s not the champion, and as thus making sure they WON’T be facing each other come time for the pay-per-view.

Dollar: That was quite astute of you.

Susie: Thanks, I brought my spark notes this evening.

Tay-Tay is so angry her ears are actually popping from the pressure inside of her head. Her teeth mash against one another, threatening to send sparks flying through the air as they grate. A bloodied Katelyn is equally as upset…but not with the Icon…with herself. She turns onto her side, swiping blood from her forehead and realizing she just spilt buckets of it, on top of putting her body through a physical ringer, and ultimately has nothing to show for her troubles.

Katelyn is so consumed with her failure, that she doesn’t even notice the Brod sliding into the ring and stepping up behind Taylor, joining in on her verbal tirade. He kicks the bottom rope, looking even more irate than his own daughter.

Dollar: Just when I thought this show couldn’t get anymore TWISTED, here we see Orlando Cruze just absconding with the World Heavyweight Championship AGAIN! This is sooo not winning him any brownie points with Taylor Chase.

Susie: Brownie points? Are those the same as brownie bites? Neither of which I’m allowed to eat since it’ll go straight to my cheeks, the ones on my face and on my bum.

The fans may be intrigued, but Taylor Chase and the Brod are enraged as the feed transitions into another video, highlighting another romantic turmoil.

EARLIER THIS WEEK

Try as he may to play nicey nice, to act as if there’s absolutely nothing amiss, P Clarence Whitman III is not a thespian plucked from Shakespearian times. He cannot hide his displeasure and dismay over his dinner guest of the evening, Silence, who is in the process of studying the potato skin in her palm. She takes a butter knife, scooping out the interior to the plate below.

Whitman: I’ll implore you one last time to PLEASE leave…My date is going to be here any moment.

Silence: Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater

Had a wife but couldn’t keep her

He put her in a pumpkin shell and there he kept her very well

Clarence smiles and waves towards all the intrigued onlookers, trying to convince them all is well. He then turns to Silence and speaks to her in a harsh tone.

Whitman: I may have a very strong moral stance against putting my hands on women…but I might just make an exception in your case if you don’t kindly take your leave at the moment. If my potential lady love were to see me consorting with you…

Silence: That will not happen, Percy…so rest easy.

She lifts a piece of the bacon scraped off the potato skin and gives it a whiff, before opting, and opting wisely not to taste it. But Whitman does chew on something…the confusing statement he just heard from Silence.

Whitman: Meaning what exactly? Or do you only speak in nursery rhymes and vague insinuations?

Silence: To be blunt, Percy, I’M your date this evening.

He almost chokes on the drink of water he was taking at the moment.

Whitman: Pardon?

Questions the good natured British import in between numerous coughs as he tries to get the water out of the wrong pipe.

Silence: You should be getting a phone call in just a few moments informing you that Mrs. Prince will be unable to attend this romantic gathering, which happens after one partakes in a glass of tea Mr. Hush took the liberty of spicing through Exlax.

More choking…water actually flying out of Whitman’s nostrils. Taking a drink to help soothe his esophagus was a very…..very bad idea.

Whitman: He WHAT!?!

Silence: We wanted to ensure some one on one time between the two of us.

Whitman: For…for what possible gain?

He questions between drying his mustache.

Whitman: I have you know I’m far more than just a piece of eye candy you can turn into an all day sucker…or what is the proper American slang….a booty call?

Silence: That’s not what I’m here for, Percy.

Whitman: Stop calling me that…only my mother calls me that.

Silence stifles her grin.

Silence: You need help…

Whitman: If that’s not the pot calling the kettle black.

Silence: Romantic help, that is.

Whitman rears back from the table with his eyebrow encroaching on his scalp.

Silence: Considering I’m the only member of the Black Crusade born with certain feminine aspects, I’m here to give you lessons in the art of wooing the fairer sex.

A piece of bacon is scooped out of the potato skin and launched half way across the room, landing in someone’s beer glass.

Whitman: I hardly require your aid. I’ve shagged my fair share of young damsels.

Silence: But what you desire with Mrs. Prince, goes far beyond a simple ‘shagging,’ or ‘booty call,’ yes?

He has no earthly idea why he does it, but Whitman nods, actually opening up to Silence, albeit unintentionally.

Silence: It’s become clear to the Black Crusade that your wholly incapable of ensnaring the raven headed beauty. You do not possess the suave qualities necessary to win over a woman of Mrs. Prince’s caliber. Legion on the other hand, and you might find this a tad surprising, is quite proficient when it comes to winning over the ladies. So I’ll be channeling his advice throughout this evening, in an attempt to teach you the fine art of…spitting some game.

Whitman: I’ll have none of this.

The napkin that was absorbing the water from his mustache is tossed to the table before the X-Class Champion gets up to leave.

Silence: If you truly wish to pursue this relationship with Mrs. Prince, you’ll take your seat and listen.

Sacrificing a potential love affair with Lois Prince is not something Whitman wishes to gamble, considering he’s come this far, and gotten this close. Or maybe its just morbid intrigue. Actually, it’s probably a combination of both that leads him to retake his seat. Just as he slips into his chair his pocket vibrates, prompting Whitman to remove his cell-phone and raise it to his ear.

Whitman: Hello Dear…

He listens to Lois regurgitate the very words that Silence uttered moments ago.

Whitman: That’s fine, Love, you just worry about getting better. I’m sure I’ll find some way to fill my time this evening.

Another piece of bacon is flicked across the room, landing in the cleavage of a plus sized woman.

To be continued…

Tick-tock…tick-tock…tick-tock…tick-tock…

A long flowing gown hangs from the body of that very mysterious young lady, who twists from one side to the other as she now stands on a small dais. A bundle of roses are cradled to her chest, and a crown sits upon her head.

Their all gonna laugh at you…their all gonna laugh at you.

In queenly fashion she raises a hand into the air and waves to her adoring masses…masses who cannot see her face behind the bundle of hair hanging from her scalp.

Suddenly a bucket of blood comes oozing down from the ceiling, pouring down over her body, soaking it in crimson bodily secretion. Even as she becomes soaked by the blood, she remains stationary, not budging an inch, completely undaunted…completely unaffected.

Yes…they will laugh….they will….howl.

The camera zooms in and gets a very close up shot of the only visible section of her face, a blood red eye.

Tick-tock…tick-tock…tick-tock.

Mr. D: Yes…yes. I made it to the building.

The SCW Chairman and partial owner of the IWC runs his fingers across a table top as he walks past it backstage. He lifts his fingers up in front of his face, examining the dust collected under his nails and flicking it away before belly aching into his cell-phone.

Mr. D: And this place really needs a better janitorial staff….Now I’m sure you didn’t just call me because you were worried I wouldn’t make it to the building safely….

He pauses and listens…big shock.

M. D: Wait…what do you mean HE’S THERE?

The back of his head is scratched in a confused gesture, completely forgetting the dust collected under his nails.

Mr. D: That doesn’t make any….

In the midst of his forward progression he steps into an area of the hall that was poorly lit, and for good reason. The overhead bulbs begin to flicker and spark, as the camera filming this scene is hit with some intermittent periods of static.

Mr. D: Hello…HELLO….

The lights and the camera aren’t the only pieces of tech irritated by this strange backstage distortion. He looks at his phone and sees a black screen and no amount of button mashing will power it back up again. The attention turns from phone to a shut crate at his side, due to the banging noises emanating from within. A burning Black Crusade sigil is now evident on the crate’s lid, but it wasn’t there a few moments ago. Tentatively Mr. D extends his foot and pushes back the lid to reveal Jacob Laymon stuffed inside, all folded up like a pretzel, his knees actually placed to his shoulders.

Laymon: How did I get here? How!?!

Mr. D shuts the lid with that same foot.

Mr. D: I don’t even want to know.

He just keeps on walking, moving along as if on a mission while removing that piece of paper stuffed in the breast pocket of his jacket.

MOMENTS AGO

The World Heavyweight Title match…which can only be described as intense from start to finish…..is recapped.

Dollar: Ah yes, thankfully another video package that isn’t influenced by Mr. Hush.

Susie: He should be our permanent audio/visual dude.

Dollar: Just before the break we saw a grueling World Title bout between reigning Champion Taylor Chase, and challenger Katelyn Buehler….before THIS happened.

Blood gushes down the face of Katelyn, who is setting up for the Epic Fail. The dreaded spinning superkick is about to be unleashed when she loses her footing, botching and as thus collapsing to the canvas…all building up to the TKO that puts her down to the canvas and puts an end to her World Title ambitions. Chase begins to celebrate only to realize that the World Heavyweight Title has found its way into the clutches of Orlando Cruze. The last image we see from the video is Orlando rushing up the ramp and to the back with the Championship in his clutches, and Tay-Tay cursing his name.

Dollar: Taylor Chase had her hands full with her challenger tonight, as Katelyn Buehler gave her an epic…no pun intended…challenge, but eventually her inexperience cost her big time, as she botched that superkick and got nailed with the TKO. But the big story here, is not Katelyn’s idiocy, it’s the fact that the Championship was stolen right out from under Katelyn’s nose by the ‘love of her life’ Orlando Cr…..

The Brod: CRUZE!!!

The crowd is less than accepting of The Brod, and even less receptive to his bellyaching. The patriarch of the Chase Wrestling family paces in the ring, right past the RIGHTFUL World Heavyweight Champion, Taylor Chase, who stomps her foot with arms crossed, hoping her DADDY can fix this situation.

Dollar: As everyone can see, the Brod and Taylor Chase STILL taking a stand inside of the ring. They haven’t left since Orlando’s piracy of the title.

Susie: Don’t say piracy. You might inspire Orlando to start wearing an eye-patch and embark on some swashbuckling adventures.

An outraged Brod continues to publicly air his grievances.

The Brod: This has gone on long enough. What you’ve been doing to my Pumpkin…the way you’ve played with her emotions…its unforgiveable.

An arm is wrapped around Taylor’s neck, utilized to pull her into a protective hug.

The Brod: You claim that you love my daughter, that you worship the very ground she walks on….well it looks to me that you have a very…very funny way of expressing your affections. Instead of lavishing my daughter with all the riches she deserves, you take away her most prized possession, the World Heavyweight Championship? What’s wrong with you? You should be on your knees thanking God that a woman as gorgeous as my daughter would ever spend a SECOND of her time on the likes of you…..

Tay-Tay: Dad…Dad…let me handle this.

It goes against the Brod’s better judgment, but he gives the microphone to his emotionally distraught daughter.

Tay-Tay: Orlando…I had no idea you were this obsessed. This obsessed with the World Heavyweight Title….For a moment there, I actually thought you could care about something else. But it’s clear to me that as long as the World Heavyweight Title exists, you’ll never have room in your life for me, or anyone else. Is this why Kloe left you? Is this why none of your relationships worked out? I should have known…I should have known better by your track record that love is not in your…..

Orlando: LOVE is the only thing that drives me, Taylor.

The crowd is less receptive to Cruze than they are The Brod. Nevertheless, in spite of their abjections, Orlando steps to the stage with his shoulder weighed down by the World Heavyweight Title, and a microphone raised to his lips

Orlando: You might not believe this….but I do LOVE you, Tay-Tay. More-so than I’ve ever loved anybody. And a whole hell of a lot more than I’ve ever loved this.

He raises the World Championship above his head.

Orlando: Yes…this championship means the world to me.

The gold falls to his forearm.

Orlando: You have no idea what I’ve went through to hold this belt…the trials…the tribulations…the punishment I’ve suffered…but I’m willing to endure so much more if it means keeping you in my life, Chase.

These revelations tug at Tay-Tay on a very emotional level, but the Brod whispers into her ear, insisting that she keep that stiff upper-lip and not be swayed by flowery sentiment.

Tay-Tay: You love me? Really? Is that why you’re standing there with MY World Championship in your hands? Is that why you told Frankie Paradise to cost me the title match last week….?

Orlando: My words were taken out of context Tay-Tay. There was a reason I told Frankie to…

Tay-Tay: I don’t even want to hear it….What you did last week, it was inexcusable!

Orlando: No, it was the only thing I could do to protect you.

Tay-Tay: Protect me…From what? You?

Orlando drags his palm down his face.

Tay-Tay: Your nothing but a liar…what matters most to you IS that championship…otherwise you wouldn’t try to screw me out of it simply so you won’t have to face me at Upping the Ante. What are you so afraid of? That our relationship couldn’t survive a fight between us over the championship? That our relationship isn’t strong enough to endure one or two minor bumps in the road? Or are you worried that at Upping the Ante I’ll put an end to your claims that you’re the only one capable of holding that Championship. That you’re the only one….’marketable’ enough to be World Heavyweight Champion….?

The Brod doesn’t ask, he just takes, grabbing the microphone out of Tay-Tay’s hand before he forgets his thought.

The Brod: If you really cared about my precious little girl, you wouldn’t run off with her title, and you’d bring it back to this ring and retur….

Orlando: You don’t think I’d love to do that, Brod?

A deep breath is taken to try to compose himself.

Orlando: But I can’t….I just can’t allow Taylor to walk into Upping the Ante as the champion…

Tay-Tay doesn’t ask, she just takes….monkey see-monkey do…grabbing the microphone.

Tay-Tay: Why? Would you actually try to cripple me in order to hold that title?

Orlando: Crippling you is exactly what I’m trying to prevent.

Tay-Tay: So the truth finally comes….

Orlando: Enough…Tay-Tay…enough. Anything else you have to say can be said behind closed doors, in privacy…

Tay-Tay: No…you’re going to give me answers, and give me them right now!

Orlando: No…the only thing I can give you right now…is your second World Title defense.

Though Taylor is unable to audibly express it, the fans do it for her, a unanimous ‘what’ heard from the crowd, and this time not even when prompted by Steve Austin.

Orlando: What everyone fails to grasp, is that until the Board of Directors shows up and OFFICIALLY strips me of my position as President, I’m still in control, meaning I can still book matches. And right now, I’m booking you in your second World title match of the evening.

Its unclear rather Tay-Tay is more distressed than enraged….her eyes are clotting with tears as the man she thought she loved continues to turn the screws to her. Not even the hand of her father, gently placed on her shoulder, can put her at ease.

Orlando: All night long I’ve searched…searched for someone I could trust….

Tay-Tay: Yeah…yeah…yeah…Someone to team with you next week in another match you never should have….

Orlando: No…no….no….why will no one let me finish? I was looking for someone who could come to that ring and face you HONORABLY for the World Championship. Someone I know wouldn’t try to injure you in order to become the Champ…someone I trust could make sure you don’t make it to Upping the Ante with the title.

The Brod: Why are you doing this to her, Orlando….?

Orlando: And Brod, you’re banned from ringside for this match.

Broderick Chase seethes, and justifiably so.

Orlando: It wasn’t easy finding a challenger for you tonight, Tay-Tay. I went to Christian…I went to Silencer…I went to my friend Nathan Creed…none of them would even hear me out…and I completely failed to summon Legion. At the end of the day I could only rely on one person who’s been a good hand in the past. Which is why I placed a phone-call to THIS man…my ultimate back up plan.

To the side of the curtains Orlando steps and extends a palm towards the entry way. Instantly the opening track of Jackson Adams’ theme music kicks in and through the curtains strides the returning former Cartel and X-Class Champion, now about to add another accolade to his lengthy list of accomplishments.

Dollar: I hate to sound like these idiots in New York…but…what? Jackson Adams hasn’t been brought in to give answers…instead he’s here to be the second challenger for the World Heavyweight Title tonight?

Susie: I’m more confused than the time I sat through the movie Pearl Harbor? Why do people think that Ben Affleck can act?

Dollar: And what is Orlando thinking here? He’s really that desperate to rob Tay-Tay of the title? Just so he won’t have to face her for the Championship? Even I’m losing faith in our illustrious Icon.

Susie: Don’t you actually have to have faith in someone in order to lose it?

Dollar: Good point.

Adams pauses on the stage and nods towards Orlando before heading towards the ring, which The Brod vacates after giving his daughter some last second words of encouragement. Taylor hears absolutely nothing…far too shocked by this stunning revelation that her night is yet young, that another title bout is moments from beginning.

Tay-Tay bends forward with palms wedged to knees, taking a deep breathe as she watches Adams slide under the ropes and into the ring. Almost immediately Chase pounces on him though, dropping down and throwing repeated forearms over his back.

Dollar: Apparently this match is official. Jackson Adams, in his first night back with the company since it was revealed that he’s been suffering concussion issues, is challenging Chase for the Championship, and we’re seeing it right friggin now.

Susie: She hasn’t even recovered from her last match yet.

Dollar: That seems to be the point.

The Brod stops on the stage right beside Orlando, who is unable to bring himself to look into the eyes of Taylor’s father. With a sigh and a shake of his head Broderick offers but a passing comment.

The Brod: Pathetic.

He then steps through the curtains and leaves his daughter to do what she does best, perform…which is exactly what she’s in the process of doing. Adams tries to get up, hand pressed to the canvas still smeared with fresh blood splatters. He doesn’t get up in time to prevent the repeated blows from the forearm delivered by Chase, who then spins around and clocks him to the back of the head with a big roundhouse kick, obviously targeting his possibly still concussed cranium.

Jackson collapses to the canvas and Tay-Tay crawls into the cover, hooking a leg. Referee Ingelson re-emerges, sliding back into the ring and into position to make the count.

1

Adams gets a shoulder up, showing that he’s recovered from the concussion that has apparently kept him sidelined the past few weeks. He then scrambles to his feet only to have Chase rush in and clothesline him to the throat. It isn’t delivered with enough force to take Adams down, instead sending him spiraling into one of the turnbuckles, falling against it for support.

Dollar: Tay-Tay surprisingly controlling this match thus far. She’s fueled by pure womanly wrath thanks to Orlando’s mistreatment.

Susie: Should I do my whole woman roar?

Dollar: Good gracious no. That’s now on my banned list too.

Jackson is showing a bit of ring rust, after not being allowed to train for almost a month, which is why he’s unable to block yet another running lariat, connecting straight to his larynx. Chase then takes Adams around the neck and rushes out of the corner into a bulldog. But Adams puts the breaks on it, reaching back with both hands and grabbing the top ropes to prevent being driven face first against the canvas.

An aggravated Tay-Tay then spins around and rushes at Adams, who bends down, catches her by the knee and heaves her up into a flapjack that puts her ribs first right into the top rope.

Tay-Tay bounces off the ropes hard, grabbing at her mid-section then staggering back into the waiting arms of the challenger. All Cruze can do is watch with remorseful eyes as a stooped over Taylor is spun around and then hit with a famouser from Adams. From the canvas Chase pops, flopping over to her back as Adams scrambles into the cover, hoping Katelyn inflicted enough damage so that he could make quick work of the champion.

1

2

Chase gets a shoulder up to a mild reaction from the crowd, who are just plain fickle when it comes to who they should be supporting in this bout. Some feel sympathy for Tay-Tay, and others realize that she is a woman who simply does not deserve sympathy.

Dollar: Tay-Tay filling the ill-effects of her previous title match, going into this bout with Adams at nowhere near 100%. Plus she’s wrestling a man who hasn’t been in the ring for a month, meaning he’s as fresh as possible.

Susie: Sometimes I have trouble with freshness myself. Maybe Adams can tell me what kind of panty liners he uses.

As in the case of his face to face with The Brod, Orlando can’t bring himself to look upon what’s happening in the ring. Instead he settles for pacing as the action picks up within the squared circle…as if it ever ended.

Adams pulls Tay-Tay along by the hair and charges her across the ring before driving her face into the turnbuckle. She bounces off and falls to a knee as Adams leans into the back of her skull with a knee of his own, using it to push her throat against the middle turnbuckle pad.

He then backs up and gets a running start behind a big knee strike to the back of the skull. Adams then drags her out of the turnbuckle and throws her down to the canvas before falling across her chest.

1

Tay-Tay still has enough left in the tank to get a shoulder up. But the second she launches her arm from the ring, Adams grabs her by the shoulder and forces her back down into another pinning predicament, this time wedging a forearm against the bridge of her nose.

1

2

Chase shows one of many inherited characteristics, stubbornness. She kicks out again and only further intensifies Adams’ onslaught. Jackson leaps to his feet then into the air before coming down with a boot across her forehead.

The onslaught continues as the ailing Champion is dragged around to her feet only to be snapmared ot her seat while Adams rushes into the ropes in front of her, building some momentum as he ricochets from the ropes. He then delivers a swift boot directly to Chase’s forehead, knocking the World Champion out and leaving her susceptible to yet another pinfall.

Into the lateral press Adams falls….still believing he can put her away with ease after her previous encounter.

1

2

The persistent Chase remains just that…persistent. She gets another shoulder up to a surprising pop from SOME of the fans. Understandably Adams is a bit more intense in this match, as this the closest he’s come to the fulfillment of his World Title ambitions.

He leads Tay-Tay to her feet and delivers a few rights to her temple before ultimately whipping her into the turnbuckle. Adams follows her right in and leaps into the air when Tay-Tay steps out of the way, causing Jackson to alter his strategy. He lands on the middle rope and then twists around just as Tay-Tay comes charging in, catching her in the forehead with a boot.

Chase backs up right into position for Adams, who leaps out of the corner and twists in mid-air, delivering a flying European Uppercut that removes the Champion from her feet.

Dollar: Tay-Tay is really moving slower in that ring. Exhaustion HAS to be kicking in at this point.

A struggling Chase is surprisingly getting to her feet when Adams ricochets off the ropes in front of her and now hits a running European Uppercut that lifts her up off of her feet and sends her through the ropes to the outside of the ring. She lands on her feet while Adams braces himself and prepares to unleash another big dive, slapping his bicep in the process. The crowd anticipates seeing a rarity, a suicide diving Euro Uppercut, which is exactly what Adams is about to unleash. He barrels across the ring and is on the verge of diving through the ropes when Tay-Tay leaps to the apron, leaps over the ropes, leaps over Jackson’s back and catches him around the hips, dragging him down into the sunset flip.

Dollar: She might have it…she might have it!

The crowd squeals as Adams desperately kicks his legs but can’t get out of this pinning predicament.

1

2

Just as the official is about to confirm a successful second title defense, Adams dashes those hopes, kicking out.

Dollar: Does she have him…does she!?!

1

2

Not only does Adams kick out, but rolls completely over backwards straight to his feet, then wedges his shoulders to the creases of Tay-Tay’s knees. He unleashes a deep, guttural roar as he exerts all of his strength to heave Chase up into the air. He only gets her half way up into the power bomb position before swinging her around so that the side of her head and shoulder collides with the turnbuckle. The collision is devastating, leaving Chase sprawled across the ring and Orlando covering his eyes.

>Dollar: That did NOT pay off well for Chase. She was just RAMMED into that turnbuckle.

Susie: I hate to see women getting rammed.

Dollar: You would be the only one.

Tay-Tay is dragged away from the turnbuckle she was just rammed against and then turned over to her stomach by Adams, locking in a cloverleaf. Chase is hurting and hurting badly after already competing once and now being forced to defend her championship for the second time this evening. She lifts a palm into the air, already toying with the notion of tapping out, but she hangs tough, perseveres onward and forward into the ropes.

Her palms prop her up as she crawls into the cables and grabs the bottom one to a mixed bag of reactions from the crowd. Jackson knows precisely how to react though, throwing down the legs and pissing and moaning as he storms to the center of the ring. He then turns back and grabs Tay-Tay by the ankle, dragging her back to the center of the ring only to have the Champ lift her foot, wedge it to the side of Jackson’s head and kick him off.

Adams staggers back but doesn’t let go of the ankle. He steps back in, raises the leg into the air and swings around it, applying a spinning toe hold. The pain is agonizing and Tay-Tay isn’t about to endure it. She lifts a foot, places it straight to Jackson’s rear-end and kicks him off. Jackson is sent staggering into the ropes but then diving through them. He takes residency on the apron, anticipating Tay-Tay getting back to her feet.

It isn’t easy for Chase to do it, but she finally gets her legs beneath her, even if they are incredibly wobbly. Adams then springs to the top rope and takes flight, soaring right towards Tay-Tay, who suddenly takes to the air herself, nailing the inbound Adams with a big dropkick to the chest, swatting him out of the air.

Dollar: He did it again! Haven’t you learned your lesson Jackson? Every time he tries to go high risk it ends horribly for him.

Susie: Yes, just like every time I do math it ends with a nose bleed.

In spite of the lung busting dropkick, Jackson is dashing back to his feet then back in at Taylor, who surprises him with a leaping back heel kick. The shot takes Adams down, but doesn’t keep him there for long. He’s scrambling back to his feet when Tay-Tay spins around and catches him to the ribs with another devastating kick. She then steps to his side and delivers a hard kick to his chest, causing him to stand back up straight. Chase follows this up with an absolutely lethal step up enzugari to the back of the head that has Adams looking like he’s in need of an immediate cat-scan.

Dollar: And just like that Tay-Tay is coming back…building some serious momentum.

Someone, somewhere needs to shout ’timber,’ because Adams is slowly going over but now down to the canvas. Instead he twists into the turnbuckle, landing on his knees and looking brain dead. He rises to his feet just as Chase comes charging out of the opposite corner, leaping into the air and hitting a big hesitation dropkick to the back of Jackson’s head and shoulders, wedging him between boots and turnbuckle.

To the middle of the ring both athletes roll, which is fitting for Tay-Tay, because that’s just what she’s on…an absolute roll. She gets to her feet and looks at the distressed mug of a man she was willing to pledge her affection to. Now all she feels is disdain at the sight of him…but her sights twist quickly to Adams, who is back on his feet and trying to throw a right hand…TRYING. Tay-Tay ducks it and swings around behind Jackson, wedging her hands to his back and shoving him forward into the ropes.

He bounces off and Tay-Tay goes airborne into yet another dropkick, this one of the front dropkick variety. But instead of both feet nailing Adams, Tay-Tay’s back nails the canvas. She hits the ring with enough force to ring her bell, and expose her to Jackon’s onslaught.

Adams grabbed hold of the ropes to prevent being ricocheted into the kick and now steps away from the cables that provided such aide. He stoops down, grabs Tay-Tay around the waist and heaves her up into that same power bomb position. He then swings around in order to drive her skull into the turnbuckle but this time Tay-Tay reaches out and protects her head by grabbing the ropes. She now finds herself in a tug of war between the ropes and Adams’ arms. Jackson tries to pull her away from the ropes but Tay-Tay holds on tight, and just long enough to free one of her strong legs, wedge a boot to Jackson’s pectoral muscle, and shove him off.

In the process of kicking him away, Chase flips over backwards and ends up seated on the top rope. She scrambles to her feet and then goes airborne before Jackson even has time to react, nailing him with a missle front dropkick that catches him directly under the chin,

Dollar: And she nails it.

Susie: I do like to see woman nail men…

Dollar: Sure you have plenty of experience in that department.

Susie: Depends on if I have a nail-gun or not, Johnny.

Dollar: Clearly you have no grasp on subtlety.

Susie: Is it sugarless tea?

Surprisingly more and more fans are coming around to Tay-Tay, perceived as the lesser of two evils on this occasion. Nevertheless, even with growing crowd support, Chase struggles to her feet and follow up on the big kick. She finally crawls into the cover, hooking a leg with Ingelson assuming the position.

1

2

But there will not be a three, because Jackson gets a shoulder up and does so with defiance. Orlando is brushing sweat from his brow as the match persists, meaning Tay-Tay COULD retain her title. He reluctantly approaches the ring and stops beside it, getting close enough for Chase to hear him once she reaches her feet.

Orlando: Please Taylor…PLEASE!

Tay-Tay: Stay the hell away from me you son of a…

Before she can finish her statement, Jackson spins her around and delivers a quick kick to her gut, doubling her over. He then hooks both of her arms and heaves her up for his Spectacular Ending, but Chase shifts what little body weight she has, in order to drop back to her feet. She then swings out of the Angel’s Wings, and swings around with her foot launching at Jackson’s head. The boot sails right over its target though, Jackson ducking, standing and catching Chase around the arms. He spins her around and drives her hard face first into the canvas with the un-prettier.

Dollar: Orlando distracted Tay-Tay just long enough for Adams to recover, and it’s cost Chase dearly. Say goodbye to the Title, Tay-Tay.

Susie: I’ll say it for her…bye-bye title. I’ll miss you.

Adams drops into the cover, forearm wedged to face.

1

2

Not just yet…Taylor launches a shoulder yet AGAIN from the canvas, keeping this match rolling right along, to the chagrin of both Adams and Orlando.

Susie: Hey…I thought you said this was going to be over. You made me sound like an idiot.

Dollar: You need absolutely no help in that department.

Adams has had enough of this affair already, fed up with Taylor’s reluctance to fork over the championship. He stands up and grabs the protective steel knee brace of Chase, beginning to stomp down at the only uncovered portion of it..

Dollar: Jackson targeting Tay-Tay’s knee, I certainly can’t fault him for this move. That leg at one time debilitated Chase to the point where she lost several years of her wrestling career.

Jackson doesn’t just stomp at the knee brace he actually begins to unbuckle it. This is NOT what Orlando anticipated, evident as he furrows his brow and shakes his head. He slaps his palms on the apron and shouts at Adams to stop but Jackson isn’t listening, willing to cripple Chase if that’s what it takes to become World Champion.

Orlando: You said you’d take it easy on her Adams.

With the knee brace unshackled Adams turns to respond to the President.

Adams: I lied.

He then turns back to Tay-Tay, and receives a big upward kick right to the face. Jackson grabs at his jaw, turning away from Taylor and swiping his palm against his lip. He actually smiles in the direction of a truly upset Cruze.

For some reason Jackson just can’t help himself, pantomiming a title around his waist then turning just as Tay-Tay stands up and swings her protective knee brace directly into his ribs. Surprisingly the referee does not signal for the bell at the sight of Adams doubling over the brace, as the weapon is not foreign in nature, technically being part of Chase’s ring attire.

Tay-Tay then leaps into the air, and the protective plate embedded within her knee, cracks against Jackson’s temple. With force he collapses to the canvas and with speed Tay-Tay scrambles into the cover, hooking both legs.

Orlando doesn’t know what to do….stuck in a very hard spot, unable to decide if he wants Tay-Tay to win, or would rather risk seeing her subjected to even more violence from Adams. It quickly becomes apparent that all he can do is watch…..hand over his mouth and sorrow in his eyes.

1

2

3

The pinfall was obligatory, no kicking out possible after Adams tasted the sweat on Tay-Tay’s knees, knocking his teeth to the back of his throat. Chase sits up and celebrates yet another successful title defense albeit to heckles from the crowd.

Dollar: And somehow, through the skin of her teeth, Chase does it again. She successfully defends her championship for a second time!

Susie: This woman needs some golden bracelets and the lasso of truth.

Dollar: I wouldn’t mind seeing her in some tight fitting spandex, that’s for sure.

The audience’s response is just as mixed as Orlando’s, who just can’t help himself. He climbs up onto the apron with the World Title over his shoulder and eyes exuding compassion. Tay-Tay stops celebrating another career milestone in order to reach out and grab the title, trying to pry it away from Orlando.

Orlando: Tay-Tay…Tay-Tay…stop it…STOP IT!

He is forced to lower his microphone as he gets into a tug of war with Chase over the championship.

Orlando: Let go…I’m begging you.

Tay-Tay: It’s mine, I EARNED this…give it back.

She gives a big tug on the title and pulls Orlando not only into the ring but right into her lips. The two exchange a passionate, albeit unintentional kiss.

Dollar: God I wish I was Orlando’s lips right now.

The two continue to kiss, at first to the resistance of both, but they slowly begin to melt into one another’s arms. Chase actually throws one around the back of Orlando’s neck and pulls him into a tighter lip lock while Orlando actually throws one around Chase’s waist and heaves her up into the air. Her legs wrap around his hips as the two continue to kiss.

Jackson rolls to the outside, holding his jaw and watching with disgust as he backs up the ramp. The rest of the crowd watches as well before they see the World Title slipping out of Orlando’s hand. Tay-Tay is utilizing the kiss to give her satisfaction and to lower Orlando’s guard so she can pry the belt away. But once he feels it slipping through his clutches, Cruze tightens his grasp and refuses to let it go.

The two then go right back to fighting over the Championship, Tay-Tay breaking the kiss and dropping to her feet.

Orlando: Tay-Tay…please…just give me an opportunity to explain myself.

At last she lets go of the gold, feeling a bit of oxygen deprivation as a result of the long kiss she just exchanged with the President. Oddly enough she’s willing to give him the benefit of the doubt even after everything they’ve went through the past few weeks…or more accurately….everything he put her through over the past few weeks.

Dollar: Is she actually listening to this bald baboon?

Susie: I think she is.

The look of legitimate emotion seems to absorb Tay-Tay, drawing her in to his words.

Orlando: You know that everything I do is because I love you…is because I want to protect you. Some times I screw up…I admit it…last week was one of those times. I TRIED to keep you safe, but I went about doing it in all the wrong ways. But I know you THINK, I should have come to you and talked things out after I signed that contract. I couldn’t…there was nothing I could have said…or nothing I could have done that would have kept you from coming to this ring and fighting for the championship. I could have told you who would be the next person to face you for the title, and under what circumstances you‘d have to defend said title under, but you STILL would have come out here, and you still would have wrestled your heart out to ultimately become the champion. So talking to you, it would have been useless….I know you Tay-Tay…you’d never let me compel you to lay down and forfeit your World Title shot. So yeah. I went behind your back…if that makes me a scoundrel…a no good low down son of a bitch…then so be it. But it had to be done…I HAD to protect you….

Tay-Tay: I don’t NEED protection.

Hot potato is once again played with the microphone.

Tay-Tay: I think I just proved, not once….but TWICE…that I can protect MYSELF. So why don’t you stick to the boardroom, and stay out of MY business? Let me do my thing. And if my thing happens to be defeating you at Upping the Ante, then so be it…that’s exactly what I’ll do.

These words are like daggers to Orlando.

Tay-Tay: And another thing…you were right…totally right when you said no words would sway me from fighting for the championship…not even knowing that we would be opponents as a result. Because unlike you…I have faith that our relationship is strong enough to survive a fair…one on one fight for the championship. I can put up with you potentially beating me for the belt…not that it would happen in a zillion years…and I’m sure your ego can endure falling to me..won’t be the first time I pinned you after-all.

These words are like sugar to Orlando.

Tay-Tay: So why don’t you just have faith in our relationship…in our…

Harrison: Because this is a lot more complicated than your sweet little Orlando is letting on.

The fans heckle, and rightfully so, Aaron Harrison, who not only carries a microphone with him as he strolls down the ramp, but a Singapore Cane as well.

Dollar: Oh goody, it‘s Harrison…and he‘s got a little toy with him too.

Susie: And that’s one toy I actually wouldn’t play with.

Surprisingly the weapon is not intended as defense, evident as Harrison stops at ringside and throws the cane over the ropes where it lands right at Tay-Tay’s feet. Wisely Aaron doesn’t enter the ring, where Orlando is putting up a fist and trying to nudge Chase around him. She is having none of it, swatting his hands away.

Harrison: Orlando is lying to you, he’s LYING to everyone actually…

Cruze utters a few words that should never be uttered with children in attendance.

Harrison: Because that’s what Orlando does best…he lies…he manipulates…he deceives….He’s a man of ill repute…and something NEEDS to be done about him and NEEDS to be done now…Tay-Tay…pick up the cane…

Chase looks down at the weapon, then up at the face of Harrison.

Tay-Tay: Blow yourself.

Harrison: Now…now Taylor…no need to be so crass. I’m offering you a grand opportunity here. An opportunity to exorcise the demon that has been corrupting this company since it reopened its doors. An opportunity to slay the dragon hording the gold. Orlando will never learn his lesson until he’s fallen on his sword…or until someone makes him realize there are repercussions for his actions. Just think for a second…think about everything this man has put you through….Doesn’t it make you angry? Doesn’t it make you hostile? Aren‘t you fed up with him? Don‘t you want to teach him a lesson, Taylor? This is it…your opportunity to do just that. So pick up the cane…do it.

Taylor looks down at the cane, then up into the face of Orlando this time.

Aaron: Still not convinced are we? That this is the best course of action for not only you, but for the entire IWC? Hmmm, maybe you would be swayed should you get a glimpse of that contract Orlando signed last week…the one that pits him against you for the Championship. The one that allows him to keep his strangle hold on the belt.

Taylor looks down at the cane, and doesn’t look back up.

Aaron: I think if you saw some of the stipulations he placed on that match, you might be convinced to use that cane to crush his manipulative, deceptive, lying brain. For instance, did you know that the match he signed off of on will be no disqualifications…

Taylor KEEPS looking down at the cane, as her skin turns from a nice beige hue to a light red.

Aaron: Still not doing it for you? Still not convincing you to cut away the tumor that threatens to metastasize and spread through the whole company? Okay then, how about I be a bit more forthcoming with the details in that contract? How about I talk about the stip where the challenger gets to pick the special guest referee. Don’t you realize what that means? It means he can pick anyone he desires to turn the match in his favor…to help screw you out of the championship.

Taylor at last looks up, her gaze doing even more damage than the cane could inflict. Orlando opens his mouth to explain only to have Harrison cut him off, with even more details regarding the title bout.

Aaron: Wow…you’re an incredibly forgiving person, Taylor…well that or you’ve been thoroughly brainwashed by this parasite. Please do what’s right Tay-Tay, what you really need to do in order to keep that Championship and protect your future, because obviously the challenger is not just stacking the deck in order to take your belt, but to take your career.

Tay-Tay is aborbed into every word that oozes from Harrison, even if they don’t drip of emotion like Orlando’s…and his eyes are less than sympathetic.

Harrison: From what I’ve gathered, the contract for that match at Upping the Ante, has more than just TWO stipulations, and the last one truly threatens your career longevity, gorgeous. It allows the challenger to name any stipulation…ANY stipulation they desire, and in keeping with the spirit of the Icon’s deplorable, and inhuman treatment of others, the word through the grapevine, is that the challenger is planning to make you compete with your hands cuffed behind your back.

This last revelation is not just met with gasps from the crowd but a lifting of the cane from the canvas, finding its way into Chase’s clutches. She squeezes the cane to create significant friction while her eyes threaten to tear the skin from Cruze’s flesh.

Aaron: Have I touched upon all the stipulations you signed off on, Orlando? You challenging for the Championship….Taylor Chase being forced to wrestle under no DQ rules at Upping the Ante…the special referee being left up to the challenger…and oh…oh yes…Tay-Tay wrestling with her wrists shackled behind her back? Yep, I think that covers everything.

Tay-Tay is shaking from head to toe, trying her best to resist the impulse to bludgeon a pleading Orlando.

Aaron: Are you just going to take this, Taylor? Are you going to let this man put you at such a disadvantage at the pay-per-view? He’s booked you into a winless situation…A situation that ensures you’ll never walk away as World Heavyweight Champion. Hell, that you‘ll never walk again. You can‘t let him get away with this. You owe it to yourself…no…you owe it to the entire IWC, to do something before its too late…before Orlando takes you out like he will everyone else who stands between him and what he loves the most. And he proved two weeks ago, that it isn‘t YOU, he prizes more than anything else…it‘s what he‘s got on his shoulder right now…what‘s yours. So PLEASE Tay-Tay, I‘m begging you, exercise some common sense and drop the compassion for this monster. Take that cane and end this…end this before Orlando‘s reign of terror claims even more victims.

The cane is gripped so tightly that fire could burst out between her palms and the staff, but it still does not connect with Orlando’s skull.. Aaron takes a deep breath, runs his hand down his cheek and contemplates taking a different approach.

Aaron: Okay then, you know what, I’m gonna let the cat out of the bag here, Tay-Tay. I’ll admit to it, I played a role in Orlando’s signing of that contract, and you want to know why? I wanted to expose him for the degenerate ego maniacal scum-bag he is. The Blacklist respects you, we respect your father…. Mika, she absolutely adores you…plus Lukas has a life-size cardboard cut out of you in his room….for reasons I hazard not to guess…Unlike Orlando, we know your special, we know your just the person who can SAVE this company. Who can put an end to the Icon’s tyranny. So yeah, I helped coerce Cruze into signing that contract, to prevent you from being hurt in the long-run, before he could manipulate you any further with his ridiculous ‘proposals.’ But I made sure to attach a little addendum to that contract, one that stipulates that I have the power to call off the title match….

Orlando’s eyes are almost breaking out of their sockets, looking like they just became crustaceous. Chase looks between the stunned Icon, and the gabby Harrison, equally as surprised by this latest revelation.

Aaron: And being a person far more compassionate than this sociopath you’ve been manipulated by, I’m willing to make some concessions. I’ll call off the match if you take that cane and well…you know how the rest of this plays out.

The time for words are over, and now there are only actions…everyone waiting to see Tay-Tay’s…waiting to see if she’ll fall in line…if she’ll take the cane and crush Orlando’s skull, or exercise some better judgment. In order to make her decision just a tad bit easier, Orlando is actually dropping to his knees in the center of the ring, arms stretched out to his side in a true martyr position.

Orlando: Do it Taylor…do it!

To say that Chase is stunned is like saying that Tara Reid is a bad actress…it’s the biggest understatement of the century. She is bowled over at the sight of Orlando actually sacrificing himself…sacrificing himself to prevent the World Title match at Upping the Ante from unfolding. What was once an easy decision has just been made so much more difficult by this selfless act, one uncharacteristic of the man she’s been led to believe that Orlando has become.

Orlando: PLEASE! I’m begging you Taylor…hit me! HIIT ME!

Chase lifts the cane, moments from crushing Orlando’s skull but then stops, lowering the staff to her side, unable to bring herself do it.

Orlando: Save yourself.

The cane is raised above Taylor’s head and about to be brought down into Orlando’s skull. She steps forward, in mid-swing just as Cruze’s face twists pre-emotively, closing his eyes and turning away.

Orlando: I love you.

These words were spoken at a very poor time, as it prompts Taylor to stop cold…even though her passion for Orlando has been reignited, burning red-hot within her. Cruze tentatively opens one eye, looking out of the corner of it at the cane stopped mere inches from his face. The pupil ascends from the cane to the frozen features of his love.

Orlando: What are you doing?

The Icon looks more alarmed than ever at the sight of the cane dropping from Taylor’s hand and hitting the canvas.

Orlando: No…no please…hit me…come on…do it!

From the canvas the cane is plucked, but not by Chase’s hand, instead it’s Orlando’s. He desperately holds the cane out to Tay-Tay.

Orlando: Take it…take it God dammit! Put an end to me…you heard Aaron…I’m a monster…I’ll do anything to make myself champion….I’ll step on anyone….including you if that’s what it tak….

Tay-Tay: Bull.

For the first time the World Heavyweight Champion seems to be seeing things clearly, the muddied waters at last becoming clear. Much to the dissatisfaction of Harrison, clearly not liking how his plan has just unraveled.

Tay-Tay: Explain something to me, Orlando.

The cane is swatted aside like Orlando’s hands earlier as Chase drops to her knees in front of him and puts hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look eye to eye with her.

Tay-Tay: If you’re so determined to screw me out of the World Title…then why would you be so desperate to get out of our match?

Orlando jerks his head away.

Orlando: I’m no good, Taylor…Please just….

Tay-Tay; Tell me what’s going on…Just talk to me.

Orlando:: I…I can’t…

Mr. D: Then allow me to do the honors.

The owner of SCW and Chairman of the Board gets a reaction that would even make Charlie Manson cringe.

Dollar: We saw him arrive, and now we’re seeing him in the flesh…it’s Mr. D.

Susie: How much flesh is he planning on revealing? I didn’t even bring any single dollar bills with me.

Dollar: But what honors is he referring to?

Harrison feigns surprise at the sight of Mr. D, putting fingers to his lips in a fraudulent display of fear. Contrastingly, the reactions of both Orlando Cruze and Taylor Chase are totally legitimate, the two seemingly stunned by the sight of Mr. D standing there with a mic in one hand, and that same piece of paper in the other. Wisely Mr. D does not descend upon the ring, refusing to get any closer to the psychopath located at the end of the ramp, nor anywhere near the Singapore Cane still sitting beside Chase and Cruze.

Mr. D: I know…I know…shock….surprise….my name trending worldwide at the moment…yadda…yadda…yadda…let’s get past all that and let’s get to why I’m here…

Once again Orlando wears his emotions on his sleeve, reacting in jest rather than giving time for Olek’s words to gestate. He stands up with microphone griped as tightly in his hand as the cane Taylor was holding moments ago.

Orlando: We all know why you’re here, Olek, because I called you out here so that the two of us could at last end this…

Mr. D: Well…that’s partially true. I did come here in response to your challenge. Orlando…

Orlando: So get on with it then. Admit you’re here to do what you’ve been doing to my family since day one…continuing to torment the Cruzes.

Instead of cutting him off, Mr. D opts to let Orlando get this out of his system. Occasionally glancing at his watch, even though it stopped working the moment he wandered across the transportation of Jacob Laymon, which also rendered his phone useless.

Orlando: You’ve had it out for me, and my family, for as long as I can remember? Why, because you could never control me like you did your sheep over in SCW. And your ego couldn’t handle it…and it couldn’t handle the fact that you were never able to lure me…the most marketable and popular of all IWC superstars, over to SCW. You just stuck in your crawl that you couldn’t manipulate me. That you couldn’t sign me to a contract in order to ridicule and degrade me. You loathed the fact that I was carrying the IWC to greatness, that because of me SCW’s ratings were plummeting, while the IWC’s were sky rocketing. That’s why you’ve been out to torture me…and why you’re here right now to strip me of my powers as President of the IWC…

Mr. D: Are you through?

Mr. D is totally unaffected by the tirade from Cruze, actually it just seems to annoy rather than anger him.

Orlando: Just get it over with, Olek.

Mr. D” You might be the only one shocked by this Orlando, but your totally and completely wrong. Well…not about the fact that I would rather tie a boulder around your ankle than throw you a flotation device if you were drowning. To be honest…I can’t stand you, Orlando…never have, never will. You masquerade yourself as some hero…some type of savior…when we all know you’re the same type of ego maniacal prick I deal with on a daily basis. Your just a self absorbed lunatic obsessed with the fulfillment of your own ambitions, even if they get in the way of what’s best for business. That’s why I was opposed to you being named as President of the IWC from day one…but unfortunately, the Board opted to disagree with me…

Orlando: Boo-hoo, Olek. Just stop giving us your sob story and do what you’ve been yearning to since the day I took the helm as President of the IWC. Just go ahead and….

Mr. D: What? Remove you as President? I’d absolutely love to…but that’s not why I’m here tonight.

Once again Orlando’s eyes are jutting out of his skull.

Mr. D: To be honest with you, Orlando. I’m not sure what spurred you on so much. What got you so fired up, and angry enough to challenge me to come here tonight. But you‘ve never been bashful about hiding your feelings, and wanting to do things in a public forum. So I decided what was best for business, to ensure the two of us continued to work together professionally, was to come out here and answer your challenge. But the trip here, it gave me some time…time enough to look over this!

That same piece of paper he’s been carrying around throughout the night is extended to Mr. D’s side.

Mr. D: What I have here is a copy of the contract…the ORIGINAL contract…not what was faxed to the Board of Directors. This is the ENTIRE document you signed, Orlando. And this contract has some hidden specifications that NEED to be addressed. Since you won‘t do it, and I‘m already here against my better judgment, I will.

Harrison: Oh my word, Mr. D…what could you possibly be talking about? Inquiring minds wish to know.

Mr. D: Do us all a favor and stop trying to play me, Harrison. It’s like I told Desmond last week…I’ve been manipulating people for ages…I know all the tricks…so it’s going to take a mind much greater than your own to get one over on me. You may have gotten away with twisting the perceptions of these people, and bending Orlando and Tay-Tay to your will….but I see through your little tricks. While Tomlinson and my Daughter were so drawn to the most glaring portion of that contract I presume that YOU faxed over to the Board…Desmond brought me the original document, and I’m a man who will take a magnifying glass to the fine print. The fine print under the header, ORLANDO CRUZE VERSUS THE CHAMP…

Harrison; No…please don’t Mr. D; Please don’t spill the beans….you might just get me in some trouble.

Mr./ D: Oh, believe me, Aaron, you’re already in a load of trouble as it is.…

Tay-Tay: Quit rambling and get on with it already.

Mr. D: This contract is not for ONE title match…but TWO.

Orlando’s head lowers and his eyes close, realizing that all the things he couldn’t say are now being uttered by a man he loathes more than Harrison. He really doesn’t respond well to Mr. D being the one to save him, but accepts the help nevertheless….not that he had a choice.

Mr. D: This contract does grant Orlando a World Title match, that much is true…but not at Upping the Ante.

Harrison twists his toes against the mats and lowers his head with hands interlocked behind his back, playing like he’s been found out and is about to get sent to bed without his dinner.

Mr. D: The title match at Upping the Ante, and all those ridiculous stipulations attached to it, has been saved for a member of the Blacklist….and since Mika Kozlov and Lukas Montgomery are both booked for that High Stakes tag match…another bout I don’t agree to….I’m assuming Aaron Harrison is the one who will be facing Taylor Chase…

Harrison: You assumed correctly.

Mr. D: Meaning it’s going to be Aaron Harrison versus Taylor Chase for the World Heavyweight Title at Upping the Ante…there’s nothing I can do about that. Though I really…really wish I could. And actually, I have to admit, it was kind of brilliant….

Harrison: And I would have gotten away with it too if it weren’t for you meddling Board members.

Harrison actually shakes his fist towards the heavens.

Mr. D: There…I came…I solved…now I kindly take my leave.

Mr. D turns to walk away…eagerly….but has to stop when Orlando calls out after him.

Orlando: Wait…wait…you’re not here to fire me?

A very perplexed Mr. D turns around, eyebrow arched, indicative of said perplex.

Mr. D: How many times have you been dropped on your head this week, Cruze? Your suffering worse concussion issues than all those you fail to protect on your roster. Which is one of many reasons the Board decided to put you on notice. THAT was our decision last week.

Orlando: Say what?

Mr. D: In spite of my attempts to help the Board see their colossal failure, that being placing you at the helm of this company…they decided it be better to give you time…time to steer the IWC back on track. But judging by what I’ve seen here tonight. The fact that your out here groveling for Taylor to crack your head with the cane…The repeated brawls over control of the show…Jacob Laymon coming out here and TRYING to fire people for no apparent reason….I think its safe to say that the Board has reached the end of its rope when it comes to you, Orlando. And if I were at HQ right now, I’d be pitching to assume control over this show, which I have no doubt they would agree to.

Though Mr. D wanted to clarify things he leaves everyone more confused than ever…especially Orlando AND Taylor Chase.

Dollar: So wait…wait…my brain is about to explode here…

Susie: That’s how I feel every second of every day?

Dollar: I thought it was posted over Twitter that Orlando was going to be fired by the Board? But Mr. D apparently knows absolutely nothing about it. He was just here tonight to reveal that the contract Cruze signed last week was for TWO title matches, and that Aaron Harrison is the one who will be challenging Taylor Chase at Upping the Ante for the World Heavyweight Championship. Am I getting this all right? There’s way too many moving pieces to put everything together.

Once again Mr. D goes to leave but Orlando just won’t let him go until ALL the questions have been satisfied. Though the more Mr. D speaks, the more questions Cruze seems to have.

Orlando: Hold it, Olek. You can’t just leave it at that. You have to give us some actual answers here. You’ve got to tell me why it was posted on Tw….

Harrison has had enough talking, and now its his actions that have everyone captivated. Into the ring he rolls and the Singapore Cane is snatched up before anyone can respond. Orlando rushes forward and gets smacked right in the ribs with the cane, taking him down instantly to the canvas as he curls into the fetal position. Now Chase is stepping in, not to brutalize Cruze but to help him. She dives at Harrison only to have him roll from the ring, escaping mere moments before he could be subjected to a heinous beat down by the vengeful spirit.

Dollar: And now Harrison has just taken out Cruze. He’s suffering a fate worse than being fired by Olek…though that still might happen given everything that’s went down tonight coupled with the Board’s lack of tolerance when it comes to Orlando’s inability to control this show.

Susie: And see, that’s exactly why I refuse to play with that toy.

Mr. D can’t help it, try as he may, he cannot stipend the grin that forms on his lips.

Mr. D: Ridiculous.

Finally he backs through the curtains and leaves before being swept up into the acrimony. Harrison is bringing it his way, stepping around the ramp and now finding himself off to the side of the stage, with eyes still locked on the ailing Orlando. Tay-Tay rubs Cruze’s shoulders and tries to get him out of the ring, some stage-hands leap into the fray, doing their best to assist Cruze.

What they really need…is exactly what’s provided as an ambulance crashes through the curtains off to the side of the stage. But it isn’t there to pick up Orlando, instead it seems intent on mowing down Harrison. Luckily for Aaron, he’s got cat like reflexes, diving out of the way just in time to keep from being run over.

Dollar: Oh God…that ambulance just tried to run over Harrison…but….ohhhh.

All becomes clear when the driver’s side door opens and out steps Christian Savior….wait…not steps…LEAPS. He dives right out of the driver’s seat and from his elevated perch he lands on top the now standing Harrison, hitting him with a huge clothesline.

Dollar: You can add another attempted vehicular manslaughter to the list of complaints the Board can use against Orlando. Christian Savior was behind the wheel of that ambulance, and now he‘s jumping the man he just tried to run down…

Susie: Looks like Christian ain’t waiting around for that ambulance match. Please tell me he’s going to let me play with the sirens…PLEASE!

Dollar: This chaos continues in just moments…Christian Savior versus Aaron Harrison, Ambulance Match….we HAVE to take a commercial break…hang in there…you’re not gonna want to miss this.

Harrison is back on his feet but ailing, just like Orlando, who is now being helped up the ramp by the Tay-Tay and a few concerned stage-hands.

The show returns live, not cutting immediately to the chaos in the ring but the blood that drips down the face of Katelyn Buehler. The camera is zoomed in upon the woman who just came so close to fulfilling her ultimate fantasy. But now here she sits, bloodied and broken…with nothing to show for her efforts, other than the huge gash in her scalp, and the mask of blood covering her face. Her location isn’t important, it’s her words, directed straight at the camera, that resonate.

Buehler: I went out there tonight, and I….I….fucked up.

Admitting it is almost as painful as doing it…reliving the botched Epic Fail that perhaps cost her the championship.

Buehler: I did exactly what Ethan said I would…I made a fool of myself….I embarrassed him…and I embarrassed this company….

Normally Buehler would break down into tears, but not anymore…she’s shed enough of them for a lifetime.

Buehler: What? Do you all expect me to sit here and weep? To cry like some little girl? Not happening. Not anymore. I’m going to take what happened to me in that ring, and I’m going to learn from it. If you think I’m done….that I’m giving up….that I’m going to hide under my sheets and listen to Mad World over and over again? Maybe Katelyn Buehler would have done just that. But I’m not Katelyn anymore…I’m a whole new animal. One that adapts…one that evolves. I’m going to be a far more proficient predator the next time I clash with Taylor Chase…and that WILL happen. I WILL face Chase again…and I WILL win the championship. Because as of this very moment….Katelyn Buehler….is going back to basics…I’m going back into training.

Porno Lad: Baby…Baby…I’m so sorry.

Into the fray rushes Porno Lad just as Buehler was wrapping up her thoughts.

Porno Lad: It’s going to be alright….

Before Katelyn can speak up she’s dragged into a big squeeze, Porno Lad stroking her hair.

Porno Lad: I’m here for you now. Just let it all out…just let it all out.

Katelyn: Ethan….

Porno Lad: Shh…shhh..shhhh….just cry…just let your tears do the talking. You‘ll feel so much better, and if that doesn‘t work we‘ll totally re-enact the pottery scene from Ghost later.

Katelyn: Ethan….

Porno Lad: And the Black Crusade…yeah…they’ll pay for setting you up…setting you up to fail.

Katelyn: So wait…you never thought I had a chance?

A grin stretches across Porno Lad’s face, overcoming his feelings about the way his tag match ended, and the way Buehler just humiliated herself.

Porno Lad: Come off it my little lovely lady lumps…Sure I may make it look easy to win the World Title, but it actually took a lot of work. Victories don’t come naturally to just everyone. But hey, if it‘ll make you feel better, I‘ll let you be my tag team partner at Upping the Ante…I can kind of carry you to a win that way…Just as I‘ve done so many others…

Katelyn: No Ethan.

Porno Lad: There…there…you’re too grief stricken and embarrassed to make sense right now.

Katelyn: I am embarrassed, Ethan…and I refuse to ever feel this way again.

She pries his arms away from her waist and pushes him back with palms to his chest.

Katelyn: And I’m not content to just keep riding your coattails. I will make my OWN success in this company….and I will do it by winning the World Heavyweight Title…

Porno Lad is more than a little surprised by her behavior, watching with wide eyes as she strolls around him to the door…one that leads to the office confiscated by the Motherfuckers. She doesn’t bother to knock, having absolutely no patience whatsoever. She pushes the door open and reveals Nathan Creed seated inside, still consulting with Xander Cassius, and Silencer. And before they can even look up to acknowledge her, Buehler steps in and pushes the door shut behind her. Just before it closes, we can see her moving straight towards Nathan Creed, head trainer for the New Age.

Porno Lad: Well fine then…I’ll deal with the Black Crusade myself, and I’ll reenact the pottery scene from Ghost by myself too.

TPKid: Seriously, Bro?

Porno Lad cringes as he hears the voice of the Trailer Park Kid emanating from behind his back, realizing that he may have just heard every syllable stated regarding the Original Prankster’s request to have Katelyn be his partner at Upping the Ante. A tense Ethan turns to acknowledge the man he promised an allegiance to mere moments earlier.

TPKid: I thought we had this all worked out. I thought we were going to be partners at Upping the Ante….I had your back tonight and everything… I even let a win slip through my fingers just I could prove I could be a mega-face like you….

Porno Lad: Shhh….shhh….shhhh…

Porno Lad drags TPKid into a big squeeze.

Porno Lad: There…there…Porno Lad’s here for you now. Just let it all out.

TPKid’s eyes shift, unsure how to process this inappropriate embrace. That same tense expression resides on Porno Lad’s face, employing the only tools of manipulation he has at his disposal, and hoping it’ll be enough to sway the Trailer Park Kid.

The fans are flipping out, not over what just happened backstage, but what’s occurring around the ring as Harrison is Irish whipped shoulder first right into the steel steps. They barely budge upon collision with Aaron’s body, and Christian gives him little to no time to recover, descending upon the man who dished out an equal amount of punishment on Rose last week.

Dollar: We’re back on Riot! Just before the break, and during it, absolute chaos broke out with Aaron Harrison and Christian Savior getting their ambulance match underway in some violent fashion.

MOMENTS AGO

The revelations of Mr. D are briefly high lightened before the video quickly transitions to a scene of Harrison just barely avoiding being run down by the ambulance. Ultimately his evasion of the hit and run, leaves him susceptible to Christian diving from the driver’s seat into the big lariat.

Dollar: Right before the break we got some SHOCKING news from Mr. D regarding that contract Orlando was FORCED to sign last week…and then Christian tried to run down the man who perpetrated not only the signing of said contract, but the vicious beat down on Savior’s wife, Rose. Aaron cost Rose the title, and boy is he ever paying for it.

Back to the match, as too much of it has already been missed due to the poorly timed commercial break.

Christian swoops in, grabs Aaron by the wrist and the back of his head and then whips him again, this time right into the barricade. Harrison turns and crashes spine first against it, leaning over the steel and looking absolutely lost, totally caught off guard by this brutality. Brutality that only continues when Christian rushes in and delivers a lariat forceful enough to carry both men over into the crowd.

Susie: Now the crowd gets to join in on the fun. I’m so going to hop in there too and crowd surf.

Dollar: I bet Harrison wishes he was crowd surfing right now, but instead Christian is taking him on an entirely different type of ride.

Referee Fitzpatrick shouts at Harrison and Savior…trying to maintain some level of control, but any semblance of sanity flew out the window hours ago. Christian completely ignores the stretcher positioned at ringside, far too captivated with beating down Harrison when there are no rules put in place to protect the Blacklist member, not that Christian would adhere to them even if there were.

Evident as Savior picks up a chair and swings it with enough force to crack Harrison’s vertebrae. Aaron staggers forward after the shot from the chair and then turns just in time to get his arms up to protect his skull as the chair is swung into his head rather violently.

In spite of putting his arms up, the chair still connects with enough force to knock Aaron back. This time a chair provides its ACTUAL function, Aaron falling into it and now sitting up as Christian comes barreling in delivering a diving lariat. Aaron flips over backwards, chair in all, rolling across the concrete to his knees as Savior picks up the steel he was just seated on and throws it with every bit of strength he has into the skull of his adversary.

Dollar: Jeez, by the time this match is over, it might actually work out to Aaron’s benefit that he was thrown into the back of an ambulance, he’s going to need one.

Nothing seems to be capable of extinguishing the flames of anger and intensity within Christian that have been ignited by the malice that Aaron and the rest of the Blacklist showed Rose last week. He snatches Harrison around the neck, drags him up to his feet and then snap suplexes him right over onto the concrete. Aaron’s back hits with force against the totally unprotected floor, prompting him to sit up and cringe from the pain.

But he hasn’t even begun to experience pain, not in Christian’s mind. The Rising Phoenix swoops in, takes Aaron around the jaw and leas him over into the front chancery. Eventually Christian’s plan becomes painfully obvious…emphasis on the pain part, as he’s about to spike Harrison on top of his head across the exposed concrete via an implant DDT.

Dollar: This might be going just a tad bit too far, Savior. Not that Harrison doesn’t have this coming…but really now…come on…your about to kill the man.

Susie: Pretty sure they didn’t show any sympathy to Rose…so why should Christian do it for Aaron?

Dollar: Does nobody follow the preaching’s of the Bible? Forgive and forget…

Susie: I thought that was Loni Love.

Dollar: Not that horrible talk-show…the Bible you idiot.

The back of Aaron’s slacks are grabbed as Christian begins to heave his rival into the air. Just seconds before suffering severe brain damage, Harrison shifts his weight and comes down to his feet, then wedges a shoulder to the Rising Phoenix’s ribs. He powers Christian backwards through the crowd and eventually slams him spine first into one of the walls just beneath the many balconies of the grand ballroom.

Harrison drags his rival backwards and then charges him into the wall a second time. The kidneys and ribs of Savior take a lot of punishment via this slam, but he still will not go down or be debilitated. Forearms connect with Aaron’s upper back, threatening to bring him down. As the Blacklist member works his way to his feet, he’s drilled to the jaw with a forearm that rattles a few teeth.

But Harrison shuts him down via a knee to the ribs, doubling him over and putting his skull in the grips of his opponent. Aaron charges him through the crowd and eventually throws Savior over the barricade, flipping him straight over. Christian tucks his head and actually rolls through as he collides with the mats, ending up right back on his feet. He then turns and dashes back at his opponent, only to be caught by Harrison leaping to the edge of the barrier then taking flight with a big flying knee strike.

The point of his knee nails Christian right to the forehead, at last putting the Rising Phoenix down. Aaron tucks into a roll of his own, ending up on his feet and in the driver’s seat, and unlike Christian, he will mow down his rival.

Christian is deposited in the ring, being the first person to enter it throughout the course of this very physical encounter. But Harrison isn’t about to step inside, not until he has an equalizer in hand, that equalizer being the ring bell he takes away from the time keeper.

Susie: Not fair…not only does Harrison get to play with the sirens on the ambulance, but now he gets to play with the ring bell too? I thought that was Lukas’ job by the way.

Dollar: Aaron exploiting everything he can use to his advantage. And he‘s going to have to considering how Christian has just been coming at him and coming at him and coming at him since this match began. Who would have figured Christian would have taken the mutilation of his wife so personally.

Susie: Yeah, take a chill pill and chillax Christian.

Dollar: I’m going to echo the sentiment of Taylor Chase and insist you NEVER use the word CHILLAX in my company again.

Susie: So now that’s been added to the banned list too?

Dollar: Yes…along with glitter, plushies, and shiny.

Susie: That’s 75% of my vocabulary.

Like a movie monster Harrison stalks his prey, sliding in and lifting the ring bell high above his head, but Christian will not be some big breasted coed with the acting abilities of Lindsey Lohan. He stands up with the Singapore Cane that was haphazardly left in the ring after being used against Orlando. Now it finds another use, being swung with a rib imploding force directly into Aaron’s mid-section. Harrison feels the pain he subjected the Icon to moments earlier, dropping the ring bell in the process. Christian then swings the cane with all his strength into Harrison’s upper back the moment he stands up.

The sound of cane to flesh echoes throughout the arena and reverberates throughout the bones of the monster. Harrison staggers forth into the ropes and eventually takes a spill through them, landing in front of the stretcher positioned mere inches from the edge of the ramp. He ends up leaning against it then turning around just as Christian comes barreling across the ring and hitting a baseball slide dropkick. Both boots connect with Aaron’s chest, sending him spiraling into the stretcher and spilling across it.

Dollar: Christian has got Aaron on the stretcher and now he has to put him in the back of that ambulance.

Susie: As if Christian even cares about the rules…and as if I actually understand them. Neither one is a possibility.

Aaron is sprawled across the stretcher, eyes fluttering as he fights to remain conscious. Christian doesn’t make it any easier on him as he begins to scale one of the turnbuckles, reaching the highest elevation imaginable.

He steadies himself and spends absolutely no time playing to the fans before he goes airborne, connecting with a huge flying top rope splash onto Harrison and the stretcher.

Dollar: Christian taking flight and crushing Harrison!

Susie: He might have achieved better flight had he some magical glit…

Dollar: No…no…no, we just covered this. If you keep it up, I’ll have the words Tommy Wiseua banned as well.

Susie: You monster!

A rousing ovation is heard from the crowd at the sight of Christian going for broke, but cashing in huge via that diving splash that has apparently left Aaron immobile. Savior is hurting too, but the rage that compels him is enough to overcome his pain, evident as he grabs the stretcher and begins to drag it around the ramp in the direction of the parked ambulance. Someone had the common sense to come out and turn the ambulance around so that the back doors now face the ring, making it a little easier for the competitors to load their opponents inside.

Dollar: So much for not appreciating the rules, Christian clearly realizes as much, evident as he drags Harrison on that stretcher towards the ambulance. That‘s stage one of this…But Aaron isn‘t through just yet.

Aaron rolls off of the stretcher and falls to his knees at about the half way point. Savior then turns around and once he’s taken a few steps and realizes that the load has gotten so much lighter. Once spotting the kneeling Aaron, Christian takes the stretcher and pushes it with all his strength, shoving it right along into his rival.

Harrison just gets up with the edge of the stretcher is rammed into his ribcage, doubling him over. Christian keeps pushing the stretcher along until they reach the ring and Harrison finds himself squished behind stretcher and apron, sandwiched hard between them. Christian then climbs up and crawls across the cot, delivering right hand after right hand after right hand to the face of the trapped Harrison.

Christian will not stop until he sees blood ooze from Aaron’s face, leaving him just as bloodied as the now former World Heavyweight Champion.

Christian: How’s it feel Aaron…..how’s it feel to suffer you son of a bitch!?!

Another big right to the scalp almost has Aaron going down but he’s not going very far considering that he’s still wedged between stretcher and apron. Christian realizes this, standing up, stepping on top of Aaron’s face and using it to get back into the ring, slipping through the ropes then approaching the Singapore Cane. A weapon Christian is all too familiar with…a weapon he saw Rose use to great success when it came to capturing the World Heavyweight Title.

With the weapon in hand and murderous intent, Christian descends upon Harrison but has no idea that Aaron has scraped his way out from between his sandwiched position and is back on the apron. Christian’s rage blinds him to the fact that he’s walked right into Aaron’s trap. Harrison sticks his head under the ropes, under Savior’s backside and then stand sup, back dropping Christian over the top rope and back first onto the stretcher. Savior collides with the cot with unbelievable force.

Dollar: HOLLY SHIT! BACKDROP from the ring, right onto that stretcher.

Harrison shows a surprising amount of flexibility as he steps off the apron and onto the nearby steel steps and then actually flips back into a moonsault across Christian and the stretcher. Another loud pop emanates from the fans, amazed by this devil may care demeanor and appreciating the high risk shenanigens of Harrison.

Aaron rolls away, grabs his ribs but pushes through the pain, realizing that he’s got Christian trapped. To ensure that the Phoenix will not rise, Aaron takes one of the straps hanging from the side of the stretcher and places it across Christian’s throat. He tightens and tightens the strap until it’s actually strangling the Rising Phoenix.

Dollar: Yet again, Harrison is using everything he can get his hands on to punish Savior in some unique ways.

Susie: Christian is gonna need a turtle neck to hide these bruises.

The strap is pulled to the point where Christian’s head is about to pop like a pimple. He kicks his legs and tries to drag the strap away from his throat, his face turning bright shades of blue. That resistance ends when Harrison puts an elbow between his eyes, and then delivers a second bionic elbow variation to the face of his adversary. He then grabs the handles of the stretcher and tugs, pulling it around the ramp and towards the ambulance. There seems to be nothing that Christian can do to escape the stretcher, tied down completely. This doesn’t stop him squirming in a failed attempt to free himself.

Dollar: Harrison’s getting him closer and closer to the ambulance and there seems to be nothing the Rising Phoenix can do to stop it.

The stretcher with Christian loaded on top of it is now just inches away from the ambulance, Aaron turning to grab the back doors and begin prying them open. Before he can push the doors ajar, Christian pulls the strap away from his neck and turns. He stands up on the stretcher and dives off right into the upper back of Harrison, hitting a double axe handle that brings Aaron down to a knee.

Dollar: Savior fighting off Harrison’s attempt to put him into that ambulance, but just barely. Aaron ALMOST had the doors open and was seconds from tossing him inside.

Susie: But there’s so much to play with in the back of that ambulance…so many fun toys.

Christian grabs hold of the back of Harrison’s head and slams him face first into the hard steel doors of the ambulance. He bounces off and turns, falling seat first upon the running board with his back propped against the door he just rammed into. With his opponent prone and in perfect position, the Rising Phoenix backs up, taking position with both hands wedged to knees.

Dollar: Oh no…he’s not gonna…he’s not gonna…

Susie: Dance the Macarena?

Dollar: That would be a thousand times worse than what I think he’s actually setting up for here.

The fans eagerly anticipate what they’re about to witness, watching with captivated eyes as Christian bolts across the concrete and dives into the Bloodline Spear. But at the last second Aaron sidesteps and shoves Savior along face first right into the back door of the ambulance. An indentation of his head is left in the steel thanks to the high impact collision. Christian bounces off hard, grabbing at the huge knot forming on his skull.

Susie: Why did Christian just spear the ambulance? It didn’t deserve that.

Dollar: I doubt the ambulance was his original target…but God did he ever hit it with some force.

Savior looks like he just got shot out of a cannon, on dream street and suffering some Freddy Krueger related nightmares. But the only boogeyman he has to worry about, is the one grabbing hold of his knees, lifting them up and pinning them under his armpits. Harrison looks back at the ambulance doors and then drops in reverse, catapulting Savior through the air, arm and ribs first against the steel.

Dollar: Ahhh that was nasty.

Susie; Nastier than the Macarena?

Dollar; Maybe not that nasty.

The steel reverberates around Savior’s body before he twists into the stretcher, falling over it chest first. It appears that Aaron could have the win, victory within his grasp, but he’s got other plans. He approaches the one of the many tech stations around the stage and grabs hold of a steel chair that one of the A/V guys were seated in. Wisely he cleared out of the way the moment Aaron entered his vicinity. The chair finds its way into Aaron’s grips as he now approaches the front grill of the ambulance, climbing up on top of it. He ascends from hood to roof of the ambulance and then rushes across it before diving off, sticking the chair under his armpit as he flies towards Christian, looking for a chair assisted elbow drop. And he keeps on looking, because Christian moves out of the way just in time.. As a result Aaron falls into the stretcher and bangs up his elbow for nothing but the indulgence of his masochistic impulses.

Susie: Why did Harrison just elbow drop the stretcher?

Dollar: That wasn’t….not even going to indulge this stupidity.

Savior crawls towards the ambulance while Harrison crawls towards the stretcher, employing it to reach his feet. He just gets up, stooped over the stretcher when Christian leaps into the air, catches him around the neck and pulls him down into a diamond cutter on the steel chair and the stretcher.. The cutter connects with just enough force to send Harrison staggering zombie like right into the back of the ambulance, falling into it shoulder first in order to keep himself propped up.

Dollar: And the cutter connecting, that very move that helped advance Rose through the World Title Tournament at Awakening.

It takes all of Christian’s strength, but he actually lifts up the stretcher and sends it flipping towards Harrison. The stretcher crashes right into Aaron, crushing him between it and the ambulance.

Dollar: The stretcher continuing to play an instrumental role in the destruction of Harrison.

The stretcher collapses and Harrison falls side first against it. He then rolls away, body absolutely mangled by the repeated collisions with the stretcher and the ambulance. Wisely, though no normal human being should be capable of thought at the moment, Harrison crawls away from the ambulance, putting some distance between it and himself.

Savior doesn’t let him get very far, grabbing his ankle and dragging him towards the back doors of the ambulance. He reaches out, grabs the handle and begins to open one of the back doors, getting it ajar just a few inches before Harrison wedges his feet to Christian’s ribs and shoves him backwards into the ambulance.

Christian slams against the steel that he’s collided with over and over again, and now falls on top of the running board. He actually lays across it, looking almost vegetative. Harrison then stands up with the aid of the stretcher and comes stumbling in only to have Christian stand up and deliver a swift boot right to his inbound rival’s jaw.

Aaron almost goes down but Christian keeps him up so that he can take the back of his head and ram it into the back of the ambulance. Aaron collides hard with the steel then turns, finding himself in the same position Christian was in moments ago, seated on the running board, the only thing propping him up.

This position allows Christian to move in, grab him by the throat with both hands and begin to strangle…strangle with all his strength. Aaron kicks his legs and swings his arms, trying to fight off the overly aggressive Savior, but to no avail. The only thing that stops Christian, is Christian himself. He stops choking Harrison in favor of employing another weapon to ensure the destruction of his adversary. He approaches the steel chair, snatching it up off the stretcher and then employing it to ensure Harrison’s destruction.

He rushes across the concrete with chair raised above his head when Harrison suddenly reaches out, wrapping his arms around Christian’s waist and drops back, belly to belly suplexing him right into the back of the ambulance. An upside Savior slams with incredible force against the steel, body ricocheting off and collapsing to the concrete amongst a rousing holy shit chant from the fans.

Dollar: Oh good GOD! Savior belly to belly suplexed right into the back door of the ambulance!

Susie: Thought he was gonna be thrown right through it.

The audience continues to audibly gasp and start in with a rousing ‘holy shit’ chant at the sight of Savior’s perilous slam against the ambulance, which leaves him stretched over concrete. He struggles, in vain it seems, to get back to his feet, but doesn’t get very far before Harrison steps in and delivers a swift kick right to the ribcage of the man who has delivered such punishment on him throughout this bout.

Aaron then grabs the back door of the ambulance, which is all dented up and begins to open it when a forearm cracks him to the upper spine. The fans are going absolutely nuts at the sight of Orlando Cruze pouncing on the Blacklist member.

Dollar: ORLANDO! Orlando Cruze is back out here and he’s on Harrison…he’s finally getting his hands on the man who has caused him so much suffrage these past few weeks.

Susie: Get him Cruze…GET HIM!

Forearms, punches, kicks, every limb is used by the Icon to inflict punishment on a shocked Harrison. Aaron throws a punch of his own only to have it blocked and for the Icon to deliver a kick right to his ribs, doubling him over. Orlando then nails him under the jaw with a European Uppercut and begins to drag him back towards the ring in a side headlock.

Orlando: You’re not calling the shots around here bitch! You hear me!! You think you’re in control? You’re not…YOU’RE not in control of jack-shit!

Punch after punch after punch is delivered to the face of Harrison, absolutely pulverizing the man before he’s taken by the wrist and whipped right into the side of the ramp. He collides shoulder first with the wall, and sticks to it like a poster. Orlando now looks to make him as flat as said poster as he charges at Harrison and dives into a splash only to have Aaron step out of the way. Orlando crashes into the wall and leaves an indelible impression of his body in it. He doubles over, already suffering the ill-effects of that cane shot from mere moments ago.

Dollar: Orlando finally getting physical with Harrison…he’s been waiting for weeks to get his hands on Aaron, and now he’s taken full advantage of it….ohhhh….no….he missed that splash completely!

Susie: What did the wall do to Orlando to…

Dollar: SHUT IT!

Cruze then steps away from the wall just as Harrison snatches up the steel chair from the concrete and swings it right into Orlando’s forehead. A vile reaction is heard from the crowd due to the loud collision of steel to skull, and many actually wail at the sight of Orlando being taken down by Harrison, surprisingly supporting the Icon in his attempt to annihilate the Blacklist.

Dollar: And a shot right between the eyes with that chair…Harrison has waited equally as long to get his hands on Cruze…ever since he came into the IWC actually, he’s made it apparent that he wants Orlando…he wants to leave him lying alongside the bodies of all the other IWC talents that the Blacklist have taken out thus far.

Susie: But he didn’t get his hands on Orlando, he hit him with a chair.

Dollar: Now your just splitting hairs.

Susie: But Orlando doesn’t even have hair to part.

Dollar: Stop being so damn literal.

Apparently the annihilation of the Blacklist will not happen tonight, as Orlando lays at the feet of Harrison, who is still holding the mangled chair in hand. The distraction Orlando provided, proves costly though, as Harrison has dropped his guard against Savior.

The Rising Phoenix steps up behind Harrison, grabs him by the shoulder and spins him around only to have the chair swung with the force of a bullet fired from a gun right into the Rising Phoenix’s skull. The chair actually breaks around Savior’s head, hanging around his neck like a noose. This chair-shot, coupled with the belly to belly into the ambulance, seems to have finally done the trick, taking the fight right out of the Rising Phoenix. He tumbles to his knees, rocking back and forth but somehow remaining upright as Savior approaches the stretcher.

The cot is raised into the air and thrown aside, revealing that a taser has been taped under it.

Dollar: Uuuuuuh-ooooooohhhh. Harrison had this all planned out. Christian may have commandeered the ambulance but Harrison already had a taser planted on the stretcher before that happened.

Susie: This one-upmanship stuff is so much fun.

Dollar: What WON’T be fun is what Harrison is about to do with that taser. But why is he busting it out now? He’s got Christian primed to toss in the back of that ambulance? This is pointless.

Susie: Do you think he cares at all about winning this match, Johnny? If you do, obviously you don’t know the Blacklist that well.

The electrical current can be seen shooting across the taser prongs as Harrison slowly approaches the many bodies littering the concrete as a result of his brutality. Though Orlando grabs him by his belt and throws a weak right hand into his hip, the Icon will have to wait his turn, because Harrison steps away then closes the gap with a hard thrust kick right to the Icon’s temple. The stiff kick takes Orlando to the ground with Harrison leaning down over him.

Harrison: Don’t worry. You’ll get yours next.

With a smirk on his face Aaron approaches the defenseless Christian, grabbing him by the bangs of his hair and pulling back on his head to fully expose his face. Aaron wants there to be no obstruction between the taser and the eyes of the Rising Phoenix.

Harrison: Your wife put up more of a fight than this, Christian.

The taser sparks as it inches towards Christian’s face.

Dollar: No….he’s not going to do this…he’s not going to do this…..

Savior’s pupil dilates and Harrison’s smile widens just as the lights in the building go out.

Dollar: Seriously? Not now…not now! Of all the times for another power outage.

Susie: At least we don’t have an announce table for someone to pop out from under.

There is a pop, but not due to teleportation. A feint light can be seen on the Cartel-tron, which is slowly revealed to be static. The camera pulls back slowly to bring a full television monitor into view, one that sits on the floor and is not of the new school flat-screen variety. No, this is straight up O-G…

A figure in nightgown crawls towards the television and ends up resting on her knees mere inches from the television. Though her back is to the screen, its evident that we’re seeing that same mysterious woman who has made so many unusual appearances throughout tonight’s telecast.

Yes…uh-huh…

She seems to be speaking directly to the television, as if hearing voices emanating from amongst the pixels and distortions.

She goes a step further, reaching out with her palm and trying to make physical rather verbal contact with the mysterious entities within the television. The spine-tingling intent of this video is achieved as the fingers tentatively approach the monitor. Just before the fingers connect with the screen, something strange…as if this wasn’t already weird enough…begins to happen. Images actually start to take shape amongst the pixels and the static…images of Kellen Jeffries writhing on the canvas as his flesh burns….this is followed by a shot of Denile Partis being hung…As if that last image wasn’t ghastly enough, now the crowd is forced to relive a shot of the loading bay door coming down right on top of Dwayne Rodriquez’s throat….the final clip features a blood soaked Rose Savior lying stretched across the arms of Christian.

The television cuts off and instead of scenes captivating the crowd, it’s sounds…the sounds of giggles…the giggles of the lady seated on her knees and getting an up close view of the monitor. Slowly…ever so slowly…for totally dramatic purposes…she turns her head around to stare through the cartel-tron and address everyone who may be watching. Her hair is at last pulled back from her face to reveal the smile of….Robin Brooks.

Heeeeeeeee’s heeeeeerreeee.

The lights in the building return to normal and just before Aaron can bat an eye…pun intended… the back doors of the ambulance fly open and diving out of them comes Hurse. The place comes unglued as Hurse flies right into Harrison.

Dollar: No friggin way!

The whole building is shaking as Hurse lands on top of Harrison, both men going down to the mats with the eye patch wearing Parkwood on top. He is delivering right hand after right hand into Aaron’s face, the former World Champion absolutely pulverizing the man who tried to take his career away from him….the man who had the depravity to take a taser and all but kill his right eye.

Dollar: This is unbelievable. Hurse is back…he’s back and he’s here for revenge on Harrison. The man who took his right eye with that taser!

Susie: I’m so excited I have goosebumps.

The back of Aaron’s head is rammed against the concrete repeatedly by Hurse, until some blood actually begins to ooze from Harrison’s skull. The crowd may be pleased to see Hurse, but quickly realize that this isn’t the happy-go-lucky, perpetual man-child that endeared himself so to them over the years. A radical transformation has taken place within Parkwood, the impetus being the loss of his right eye. But it looks like Hurse is trying to cost Harrison so much more.

Hurse continues to drive the skull into the concrete before he drags Harrison away from the concrete, dragging him towards the ambulance and bashing his skull off of the running board/bumper. Harrison stands up, glassy eyed, looking to be on dream street. H turns around as Hurse nails him to the jaw with a right, and another right, and another and another and another. Everything about Hurse’s onslaught seems to be absolutely primal, bound and determined to mutilate Harrison, worse than he himself has been mutilated.

He then backs up to get a running start before charging right into a boot to the skull, Harrison somehow having the wherewithal to defend himself. Hurse is staggered but not taken down, he steadies himself then rushes forward only to be caught with that same side kick to the jaw that put Orlando down.

Dollar: But even Hurse can’t turn back the tide of Aaron Harrison and the Blacklist. There truly is no one who can stop these people…who can stop this man.

Hurse falls into the stretcher, using it for support as Harrison steps in to finish what he started on the former World Champion. Hands inch towards Hurse’s hair when the lights in the building again start to flicker.

Dollar: AGAIN!?!

Susie: Are their rats eating through the electrical cords around here or something?

The flickering and brief camera issues…a few bars appearing running up and down throughout the screen…ends when Mr. Gaunt appears standing on top of the ambulance, palms cupping the handle of his cane and head titled towards Harrison down below. Aaron detects the change in the crowd’s tune, prompting him to look up and spot Gaunt standing above.

Just before he can fully react Hurse stands up and puts the taser Aaron dropped, right against the number one contender’s back, positively electrifying him.

Dollar: Mr. Gaunt…Mr. Gaunt distracting Harrison long enough for Hurse to use that taser…And he’s shocking Harrison until his hair goes white.

The crowd is nowhere near as stunned as Harrison, who somehow still possess the ability to stand upright, and clings to what little consciousness he has left. His eyes remain open, just barely…but enough to see the ambulance doors bursting open again with Legion, the N.H.B Champion standing inside. He reaches down, palms the top of Harrison’s head like a basketball and places him in a Von Erich style claw.

Dollar: Mr. Gaunt has summoned Legion…and he’s literally got a handful of Harrison.

Orlando and Christian regain their consciousness long enough to grab both of Harrison’s legs and hoist him up into the air at the same time Legion is hoisting him up into the air via the claw. All three men collaborate in throwing Harrison into the back of the ambulance. The dazed Christian and the equally as banged up Orlando grab the ambulance doors and swing them shut, trapping Harrison inside.

Dollar: It’s over…heavens to Bettsies it’s finally over…Aaron Harrison at last put in the back of that ambulance….Orlando, Hurse, and Legion interfering to make sure Harrison finally got his comeuppance.

Savior slaps the back doors of the ambulance, which begins to take off, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Mr. Gaunt remains surprisingly stationary on top of the ambulance even as it takes off to the backstage area. The Rising Phoenix falls to his knees, running his hands through his sweaty hair and the knots on his forehead, still shivering as he watches the man who mangled his wife taken away via ambulance. Orlando is in much the same state, watching as the man who manipulated him for so many weeks, in an attempted to ruin his life, is driven from the Manhattan Center, ensuring he’ll have no further influence on the show and on Cruze’s career. And Hurse, he’s watching too, but not the ambulance speeding away, instead he has his eyes…an eye…on Orlando. Finally Curze turns around as Hurse mouths something to the Icon just loud enough to be heard.

Hurse: You need a partner next week….you’ve got one.

The fans cheer at the thought of Orlando and Hurse teaming together for the first time in an IWC ring to square off against Aaron Harrison and Frankie Paradise. The two former World Champions turn to acknowledge the departure of the ambulance with Harrison trapped inside with Legion, and Gaunt standing on its roof.

Dollar: Words cannot even begin to describe…just wow…that was positively bonkers…

Susie: They finally brought down Harrison…

Dollar: But this…this isn’t over…Aaron is still the number one contender for the World Championship, and Taylor will still have to defend the title against him at Upping the Ante with her hands shackled behind her back.

Peace has at last been restored…as all these men, Legion, Savior, Orlando and Hurse, four individuals who positively loathe one another, have united to bring down the greater threat, Aaron Harrison.

The Brod: What the fuck are you doing! STOP!! STOP!!!

There is all kinds of commotion backstage, the camera almost falling over as the operator tries to keep up with a frantic Broderick Chase. The reason for his distress becomes evident when the camera finally balances out long enough to spot Frankie Paradise standing at the end of the hallway, his back turned to the camera with his black leather jacket wrapped about his body and his boots wrapping around the body of Taylor Chase. The World Champion slides down between two crates, trying to use them to stay upright as Frankie continues to rain down upon her with punches and stomps.

The Brod: You son of a bitch…what’s wrong with you!?!

Just before The Brod can come to the aide of his daughter, Frankie opts to tuck tail and run. Dropping his designer shades as he reaches down to snatch up the World Championship belt. He throws it over his shoulder and takes off down the corridor, never turning even once to address the Brod or the camera.

He leaves Chase ailing, trying her best to pull herself up but unable to bare any weight after competing in two matches tonight, and then being subjected to an assault from a man she thought she could trust. The Brod looks equally as betrayed, glancing between the ailing Chase, and the fleeing Frankie.

The Brod: That bastard..that fucking CHUMP!

The enraged Brod is ready to blow his lid…really wanting to pursue Frankie, but instead bending down to check on the condition of his traumatized daughter.

The Brod: He’s not getting away with this. YOU HEAR ME!?! Daddy is gonna take care of that piece of slime.

Foam threatens to foam at the corners of the Brod’s mouth as he turns to see the camera looking down at him.

The Brod: Get out of my face!

His massive palm swats aside the camera lens, reducing everything to static.

Ice is wedged to the shoulder of Kathryn Pearson as she sits on a flight of steps somewhere in the backstage area, clearly ailing as a result of the brutality inflicted on her by the Blacklist earlier this evening. The pain doesn’t prevent her from being able to pick up a cell-phone, dialing a number and speaking between grinding teeth.

Kathryn: Hey…it’s me…I need you…

She waits for an answer, one that brings a slight smile to her face.

Kathryn: Can you get here in time?

A sigh of relief, followed by a groan from her mangled shoulder.

EARLIER THIS WEEK

Silence: Legion would like you to reconsider your choice of romantic settings. This place. It‘s no good. No good at all. License plates and posters of deceased celebrities on the walls does not create the type of vibe your going for here. You won‘t win over your damsel with draft beers and bad Mozzarella sticks.

The masked femme demonstrates her point as she pulls the tip off one of said Mozzarella sticks and extends the cheese out between her hands, letting it droop towards the table below.

Whitman: But I always heard Americans raving about Applebees. It seems to be an institution.

Silence: No….anyone who brings a date here would have to be institutionalized, my Dear.

Whitman: Erm…I think you’re hardly one to infer that others need to be committed.

Silence pays little attention to his retorts, far too captivated with wrapping the string of cheese oozing from the stick around her finger several times.

Whitman: Besides, I wanted Lois to be in her element…to not feel so out of place. And perhaps show her that this limely British chap could adapt to the American way of doing things.

Silence: My dear Percy, you just don’t get it do you.

The last thing Whitman expected, was to be listening to relationship advice from Silence, but the huge draft beer he sips at seems to help him deal with this sad truth.

Silence: If it weren’t for your little British quarks, you would be about as interesting as a soapy sponge.

Whitman turns his sip into a chug, no longer adhering to decorum.

Silence: Woman enjoy the company of men who are different, who think outside of normal American idioms and tropes. The exotic.

Whitman: Oh…is that why you’re so infatuated with Mr. Gaunt?

Silence at last lives up to her name, looking away and brushing hair behind her ear.

Silence: Mr. Gaunt possesses something you do not….A truly magnetic personality.

Whitman: Ah.

Silence: And your relationship is the one under the microscope, dear boy, so let’s stay on subject, shall we?

Whitman: Gladly.

Silence: Woman dig accents…Whitman…which is why you should enhance instead of hide your many British colloquialisms and euphemisms.

Whitman: Okay.

Silence: We naïve woman have this terribly inaccurate stereotype of foreign men…believing that somehow their accents and peculiar behaviors are charming rather than annoying, and that they know more regarding romance than traditional American males. See, women, especially those in the Western hemisphere, really are idiots, and we can be easily swept off our feet by the slightest mispronunciation of the word ‘tomato.’

Whitman: Ha…you say it so humorously…it’s to-mar-toe.

Silence: Or Lieutenant.

Whitman: You daft girl, it’s Lef-ten-ant.

Silence: My point exactly.

Whitman: So then, I should play up my heritage.

Silence: Yes..otherwise you might shatter the preconceived stereotype Lois has of you. As I eluded to earlier, women are inclined to believe that men from across the pond are better suited for romance. So you need to enforce that stereotype, and do it by bringing her to a place a bit more upscale than Applebees.

Whitman: Do you mind if I ask you something?

Silence: Ewww…I‘m intrigued.

Whitman: I wish to know why the Black Crusade has taken such a vested interest in the state of my love life.

She finally breaks off the end of the cheese from the deep fried shell it was encased in.

Silence: I’m not one to question Mr. Gaunt…he has reasons for everything he does. So when he tells me to assist you regarding wooing Lois….I do what’s told.

Whitman: So you don’t even know why you’re doing this?

Silence: Nor do I care to know why.

Whitman: Fair enough, I’m just concerned regarding your ulterior motives.

Silence: I’m sure we only have your best interest at heart, Percy.

Whitman: Forgive my impudence, but I have trouble believing that. Woman do not give me romantic advice very often, the last one who did was my Mother.

Silence: Oh, you need to stop that.

Whitman: Stop what?

Silence: Referencing your Mother.

Whitman: But the dear lady means the world to me. It’s my desire to keep her perpetually happy that has made me the successful, good natured gent I am this very day.

Silence: Yes, Mr. Gaunt is quite aware of this. But Mrs. Prince need not here constantly about your Mother. Woman are engrained with this self deprecating stigma that a man’s first true love is his mother, and that we could never live up to their standards.

Whitman: Ah…

Silence: Plus you need to shave that THING from your upper lip.

Whitman becomes uncharacteristically angry, his face transforming from bashful to begrudged.

EARLIER TONIGHT

P Clarence Whitman III strolls through the parking lot of the Manhattan Center with shades over his eyes and his wheel mounted baggage dragged along behind him. The X-Class Championship rests over his shoulder and bogs him down slightly as he proceeds towards the locker-room.

Comeau: Mr. Whitman…Mr. Whitman…

Mark Comeau, flash in one hand, microphone in the other, steps out from behind the camera to catch Clarence right before he could fully enter the building. He trails behind Whitman, who doesn’t stop to acknowledge the interviewer.

Comeau: Hey Whitman…do you have a moment?

Whitman: I know what your questions are regarding Mr. Comeau…and before you have the chance to waste your breathe, I’ll tell you right here right now, I am NOT teaming with those lunatics this evening. Whitman and…ummm..that lunatic fringe will not be acting in accordance with one another…yes…there will be no such camaraderie. Not after the ruining of my date with Lois, and the inhuman comments Silence made regarding my…

With a tear in his eye and a quiver of his lip, Whitman reaches up to pet his mustache.

Whitman: I must take my leave of you, Mr. Comeau…but not before saying it again…I will NOT team with those deviants this evening. I’ll take a pay cut if necessary…as I have the funds to recuperate potential losses. Now if you’ll excuse me.

Through the doors Whitman marches, officially entering the building and officially making his stance regarding the potential Clarence, Black Crusade team up known to the world.

The stage lights turn red, blue, and yellow and all pant up and down as “Hero” by Skillet begins to play. The screen shows some slow motion MMA clips of Xander Cassius knocking people out mixed with black and white clips of him pointing to the sky on walking on the beach.

From the back walks Xander, wearing heavy duty red and black athletic shorts along with a black shirt with a red and gold cross printed on the front and his name on the back. His hands are covered with MMA style gloves.

Cassius steps to the center of the stage and drops to his knees and bows his head as to give a short prayer. After a few moments he jumps to his feet and starts to pumps the fans up and he makes his way to the ring. A slight smile is on his face as he slaps the hands of the fans. He rolls under the bottom rope and runs to the far corner. He jumps to the middle rope, pulls his shirt off revealing the many tattoos on his body, and throws the shirt to the fans.

Dollar: Wow…hard to believe we still have so much left to come tonight after everything we saw just before the commercial break…including yet another theft of the World Heavyweight Championship…this time by the man Xander Cassius is about to face here this evening…but ummm, why?

MOMENTS AGO

There are clips of the shaky camera, and the furious Broderick charging into come to the aid of his bludgeoned daughter. Though we don’t get a very good glimpse of his face, the jacket and sunglasses are enough to clue the viewers into the fact that Frankie Paradise is the one doing the mugging on the woman he claimed to love.

Dollar: As you can see, Frankie, for God only knows what reason, completely blindsided Taylor Chase and whisked away with her World Championship. But something tells me The Brod isn’t going to let him get away with this quite so easily.

Susie: He looked mad….

Dollar: Great follow up as always, Susie. But another man who may be quite upset with Frankie, is this gentlemen, Xander Cassius. Who has to be furious with the fact that Frankie worked with the Blacklist last week. A group that Xander is hell-bent and determined to crush. Guilt by association is going to haunt Frankie here tonight.

Xander is all worked up, especially after his earlier interaction with the Blacklist. It appears his ribs are still bothering him regarding that assault from the baseball bat, but he’s looking to push through it in favor of getting his hands…his feet…whatever he can on Frankie tonight. The anticipation doesn’t last long because….

The eyes all focus on the stage as King Zero by Drowning Pool hit’s over the P.A System. The crowd get to their feet and start to boo as Frankie Paradise confidently struts out from the back wearing his wrestling attire along with trademark leather jacket with his name emblazoned on the back. The Los Angeles Native spins around and points to his back with one thumb, because his other hand is occupied by a briefcase holding the Evolution title..

Jessica: Ring Announcer: “Ladies and Gentleman, hailing from Los Angeles, California. He weighed in tonight at 180lbs – FRAAAAAANKIEEEEE PAAARRAAAADDIIISSEEE!!”

Paradise looks at the nearest camera hyped up after the introduction pointing to himself.

Frankie Paradise: “YEAH BABY! WOOO! Who’s your daddy, the EVOLUTION CHAMPION is bitches!”

He then begins to confidently walk down towards the ring as the female fans scream amongst the mixture of boo’s. Once he reaches the bottom of the ramp he stops and smirks before approaching one female fan in the front row and leans in pointing to his cheek, but just before she can get kiss it he moves away and laughs leaving her heartbroken as he rushes to the squared circle. He throws his briefcase into a corner before crawling in himself.

Just as Frankie slides into the ring, Xander is right on top of him, swooping in and delivering a big buzz saw kick right to Frankie’s chest. Paradise winces from the pain and has no time to recover before Xander moves in and delivers a second kick, and then a third, crushing the sternum.

Dollar: Xander pouncing on Frankie right from the get go….that’s not surprising…but what is shocking is the fact that Frankie hasn’t brought the World Championship out here with him.

Susie: No, but he did bring that glorious head of hair.

Xander wraps hands around the back of Frankie’s head and begins to deliver knee strike after knee strike to the face of his opposition, hitting them repeatedly to the skull of his adversary.

Cassius finally stops using his legs and starts employing his fists and arms to inflict some damage. The knees cease in favor of delivering some swift and vicious knife edge chops. Frankie is all out of sorts, falling into the ropes as Xander moves in and hits ANOTHER knife edge chop…followed by a third, each one more devastating than the last.

Finally Frankie lifts his hands into the air, calling for a time out but getting none. Cassius takes him around the neck and snap mares him over to the canvas before delivering a big kick right to the lower back.

Paradise arches his spine, rolls to his side and TRIES to get up only to be caught around the neck, snapmared over a second time and then hit with a second big kick between the shoulder blades. The stiff strikes have Frankie twisting and writhing across the canvas. He desperately tries to put some distance between himself and Cassius only to receive a running kick right to the chest from Xander who sprung from the ropes in order to deliver the move.

Wisely Frankie rolls to the exterior of the ring, trying to put some space between himself and Cassius, but Xander is all fired up and he needs to unload on someone…anyone associated with the Blacklist. He storms towards the ropes and slips through them to the apron when Frankie reaches out, desperately grabbing his foot, trying to pry out from under him.

Xander, using his leg strength, kicks Frankie off and sends him twisting into the barrier, falling against it for support. Cassius then steps to the apron and launches himself off into a double axe handle that connects right across the top of Frankie’s forehead.

The collision brings Paradise to his knees, leaning against the barricade just long enough for Cassius to come barreling in and sandwiching his skull between the steel and his knee-brace.

Dollar: Have we ever seen Xander so motivated? I mean, he normally goes in there and does all that ass kicking garbage we’re accustomed to, but tonight he looks more motivated than ever to beat up on Paradise.

Susie: Maybe he wants the big sparkly for himself, and he’s going to beat its location out of Frankie Paradise.

Cassius drags the prone carcass of Frankie to his feet and continues to be pure smash mouth, driving a tooth mashing forearm into Paradise’s mouth, followed by another, and then another. The tremendous fro of Paradise is taken and employed to lead him back to the ring, where he is rolled in under the ropes. The master manipulator ends up on his elbows and knees, fighting his way up to his feet when Xander comes rushing towards the ring, springs to the apron and then leaps over into a flying shoulder block. It connects directly to Frankie.

Dollar: Paradise just can’t get out of the blocks here.

Susie: I’m not allowed to play with blocks anymore…they kept ending up lodged in my throat.

Dollar: Another revelation that fails to surprise me.

The fans are now starting an outdated ‘woop that trick’ chant directed at Cassius, who is beating Frankie like he was his hoe. Cassius is about to put Frankie out on a street corner, but Paradise will no longer be slapped around like a bitch, employing every tactic imaginable to protect himself, including grabbing referee Fitzpatrick and employing him as a human shield. He grabs the official’s pudgy mid-section and drags him into the way to form a barricade, that for a moment derails Cassius.

Xander tries to get around the referee but Frankie has the official in a bear hug, scooting across his knees every time the referee turns. Fitzpatrick tries to turn around to shout at Frankie, but he’s still being gripped way too tightly, totally incapable of pulling a 180, or 360…any type of turn whatsoever. Xander has seen enough, he steps in and delivers a straight buzz saw style kick right to the interlocked hands of Paradise, causing the fingers to break apart and for Fitzpatrick to begin chastising Cassius for getting dangerously close to catching him in the crossfire.

Frankie flails his phalanges through the air after having them kicked so violently, before Xander steps in and swings around into yet another roundhouse kick, this one aimed at Paradise’s huge head. Surprisingly Frankie has the wherewithal to duck and then roll to the outside of the ring, avoiding the strike and avoiding any further physicality from Xander.

Dollar: Frankie really, really needs a breather. Someone give the man a towel and a spittoon.

Frankie looks simultaneously shaken and stirred by Cassius’ unique blends of strikes and dives, thus far having no answer to them. Suddenly Xander takes off across the ring and drops into a baseball slide, going for a second ropkick to catch Frankie off guard. But this time its Xander who falls into a trap, Frankie lifting the tarp into the air and trapping Cassius’ legs beneath it. Xander falls down to his feet with his lower half stuck under the tarp, preventing him from delivering any kicks and leaving his upper torso susceptible to the rapid fire forearms, punches and chops by Paradise, who is throwing an absolute physical tizzy on the MMA brawler.

Dollar: Frankie has had enough and he’s absolutely unleashing it all over Cassius…he’s beating the holy heck out of this man after pulling an unorthodox counter using the tarp/ Guess you got to work with whatever you’re given.

Susie: Just like I have, using my HUGE..Monstrously huge brain.

Dollar: I really…really would comment on that sentence..but it’s just like shooting fish in a barrel.

Susie: Another startling truth is revealed…you’re just determined to have PETA all over our asses.

A steel chair is taken from Jessica Wilde, who seemingly can never get comfortable at ringside. It is then set up on the mats and Frankie charges at it, stepping off in order to launch himself into a leg first lariat against the prone Xander’s chest. Cassius is driven back first into the apron, causing him to slouch down over the tarp, which seems to be the only thing holding him up. Paradise slides into the ring and reaches through the ropes, taking Xander around the chin and pulling back on it, so that Cassius’ upper back grinds and presses hard against the apron.

Cassius tries to rip the fingers from away from his jaw but Frankie breaks the hold of his own accord. He then stands up and leaps into the air while holding the top rope, flying over and adjusting in mid-air so that he connects with a leg drop across Xander’s throat, driving the back of his neck and his head into the apron.

Dollar: WOW…ANOTHER impressive move by Frankie, I don’t know where he pulled that one out of.

Susie: I’m guessing somewhere deep within his anal cavity.

Dollar: I don’t think everyone perpetually has something lodged in their anus like yourself, Susie.

After hitting the move that wows and surprises the peeps, Frankie rolls through the ropes and insists that Fitzpatrick carry on with his ten count, having no qualms with winning this match via count-out. And that seems to be the inevitable at this point, as Xander hangs limp over the tarp, eyes rolled to the back of his head.

Fitzpatrick: 1-2-3-4-5-6…

Xander finally begins to turn around, slowly pulling himself up with the aid of the ropes, trying to climb onto the apron.

Fitzpatrick: 7.-8-9…

The ten count is beaten at the last second to much fanfare, Xander rolling back in under the ropes. One person who isn’t celebrating is Paradise, who looks like he’s about to shit a kitten at the sight of Xander getting back into the ring.

Frankie: Bullshit!

He grabs Fitzpatrick by the shirt and spins hima round, slapping his palms together furiously.

Frankie: Who the fuck did you learn to count from….Count Chocula?

Before the official can even give an answer, he’s blown off.

Frankie: You’re useless as your facial hair is shitty.

Fitzpatrick grabs his beard and whimpers as Paradise passes him by, stepping right into an open hand palm strike across the chest. A blood red indentation is left on his chest from the hand of Cassius. But Frankie will not be deterred, hoping he can continue with his offense. So he grabs the back of Xander’s head and throws a knee right into his face, stopping Cassius’ onslaught before it get started.

Paradise then grabs Cassius by the jaw, holding his head up and slowly retracting his fist.

Frankie: Prepare to suck my fingers bitch,,,…just like Tay-Tay’s gonna be sucking my toes later tonight. Well…maybe not in the same way…but you get my point. Ya’ know, this really isn’t all that menacing when I have to explain my threats to you.

Xander: No…no it isn’t…

Frankie: Just know this is gonna hurt.

Frankie spent way too much time defining his threat, his inbound fist caught by Xander, who uses the arm to drag his opponent down to the canvas in a valiant attempt to get the fujiwara applied. But that’s all it remains…an attempt…cause Frankie rolls right through, gets to his feet and charges at the kneeling Cassius, throwing another knee at his jaw. This time Xander is able to slip around the knee, turn his back to Frankie, stand up, catch him by the armpits and drag him down into the backslide.

Frankie rolls right through once again, dropping over onto his knees, but this falls right in line with what Xander was planning. He immediately swings around one of the arms he hooked and leans back, applying a textbook and incredibly painful fujiwara submission hold.

Dollar: And this time Xander DOES get the fujiwara locked in…Frankie’s gonna have to submit…which might be best for him…because then he can get the hell out of here with the title.

Susie: He better let me put some glitter on it first dammit.

A submission seems all but a certainty due to Xander’s superb submission mastery, getting the fujiwara applied at such an angle that it makes escape impossible. Frankie lifts his palm into the air, ready to slap the ring and confirm the suspicions of every fan in attendance, who speculated that Cassius was closing on the submission.

Though Frankie was never one to make the peons happy…no…he lives to agitate those who have harassed him so viciously since his debut in the IWC. So he wedges his knees to the canvas and tucks his head forward, rolling across the canvas to escape the fujiwara. To the shock of everyone, Frankie moreso than anyone, Xander rolls right along with him and the two end up in the exact same position, Paradise still trapped in the fujiwara.

Dollar: Frankie tried to counter but he’s still trapped…he’s still stuck in this hold….and Xander, the MMA specialist demonstrating that there is no escape once he gets a submission locked in.

Fitzpatrick knows that this match is a foregone conclusion at this point given the fact that Xander is dug in like a tick, and isn’t letting go until he hears the submission. Therefore the official drops down right in front of Paradise, pleading with him to just give up. Frankie not only refuses but reaches out and grabs the official’s wrist, but not in an attempt to free himself. Instead he lifts Fitzpatrick’s hand into the air and begins to slap it repeatedly against the canvas

Susie: This is the worse attempt at patty cake I’ve ever seen.

Dollar: What in the hell is Paradise doing?

Before everyone can begin properly questioning Paradise’s actions, all becomes clear…or clearer at least…when Xander breaks the fujiwara, hearing the canvas being slapped behind his back and automatically assuming that Paradise just tapped out. He has no idea that it was Fitzpatrick’s hand hitting the canvas.

Dollar: Wait….this…this is brilliant. Paradise just used Fitzpatrick’s hand to slap the canvas and trick Xander into thinking it was him tapping out. Cassius just broken the fujiwara because he thought he won this match.

Susie: Still the worse patty cake ever.

Cassius is so convinced that he’s won, he’s actually on his feet celebrating, arms raised high in your classic victory pose. He fails to realize that the bell hasn’t chimed, and isn’t clued into this fact until Fitzpatrick hops in his face, insisting that the match is NOT over, informing Cassius that it was HIS hand that tapped, and not Paradise’s.

Dollar: That’s right Xander, you were fooled…you were played like a fiddle.

The crowd is absolutely disgusted that Xander fell for Frankie’s tomfoolery, and it even seems to have bamboozled the ringside staff, as the time keeper shouts into the ring, inquiring as to rather he should ring the bell or not..

Fitzpatrick can’t believe he has to explain this…sticking his head through the ropes and shouting at the time keeper while behind his back Xander is looking to punish the man who just made him look so foolish. He rushes straight towards Frankie, who is busy crawling away and into a corner…the very corner where the briefcase presumably holding the Evolution Championship belt is placed.

As soon as Cassius grabs hold of Frankie’s hair, and begins to pull him back into the center of the ring, Paradise turns and rams the briefcase right into his opponent’s jaw. The case bounces with force right off of Xander’s chin, sending him down to the canvas like a sack of potatoes.

Dollar: And Frankie capitalizing on all the confusion he just set into motion in order to bash Xander right to his jaw with that briefcase!

Susie: I wonder if it tastes like candy.

Dollar: I think the only thing Xander can taste right now is the blood pocketing in his mouth.

Though his brain isn’t functioning all too well at the moment, Xander rolls to the center of the ring and instinctively tries to get up but doesn’t get very far. He falls to his back once again, in perfect position for Frankie, who throws aside the briefcase just as the official turns around, then slips through the ropes to the apron, springs to the top cable and connects with that lethal springboard shooting star press. El Paradiso connects and knocks all the air right out of Xander’s body, right along with the last strains of fight.

Dollar: That briefcase shot followed up El Paradiso…Brilliant…absolutely fucking brilliant. I never thought I’d say that about a man with highlights in his hair, but I just did.

Both legs are hooked and Frankie is once again bitching at Fitzpatrick to make a quicker count.

The official gets his ass in gear, dropping to the ring and slapping it to a horrendous outcry of despair fro the crowd.

1

2

3!

That’s it…Frankie has just manipulated his way to another victory.

Dollar: I’m blown away…absolutely blown AWAY…Paradise using some true cunning in order to first trick Xander into believing that he submitted by using the hand of Fitzpatrick to tap the canvas, THEN, he uses that briefcase while the official’s back was turned trying to clear up all the miscommunication over the finish. This guy has come along way in a very short period of time.

Susie: He’s smart…that might explain why his head is so freakishly huge.

Paradise has no interest in celebrating, at least not until he has the briefcase back in his possession. The Evolution Championship finds its way into the clutches of Paradise, who cradles it to his chest and rocks back and forth with a huge smile on his face, cackling like a harpy over its prey. Frankie is absolutely tickled pink that he so masterfully pulled off this victory when it seemed all but a certainty that he was going to submit.

Now that he has his precious briefcase holding the Evolution Championship clutched to his bosom, Frankie insists that Fitzpatrick come in and raise his hand in victory so he can bask in the spotlight of his victory.

Dollar: This man deserves to have his hand raised, now do it, Fitzpatrick, do it right now!

Begrudgingly Fitzpatrick steps in and grabs Paradise’s wrist, lifting it into the air…Just as the crowd makes a unanimous gag noise at the sound of Frankie’s smile….their reaction changes from the sounds of vomit, to the sounds of surprise, as they spot The Brod storming towards the ring, looking to be in a highly emotional state.

Dollar: The Brod is back…and he said he was going to take care of this situation on Tay-Tay’s behalf. He’s out for some retribution on the man who just assaulted his daughter backstage.

Susie: I wish my Dad would defend my honor like this…but the Harlem Globetrotters are always too busy on the road to spend much time raising me.

Dollar: I would beg for a further explanation, but I really…really shouldn’t.

At first Paradise looks happy to see The Brod, automatically assuming that he’s come out to celebrate alongside him, but once he sees that Chase isn’t clapping, that his fists are clinched, and his eyes burn with hostility, Frankie’s happiness subsides.

The Brod rolls in and instantly Frankie pulls Fitzpatrick in the way…AGAIN! The official brushes the hands away form his shirt and storms out of the ring, refusing to be employed as a human shield. Instead he becomes a human crutch, rolling to the outside to hold Cassius up, Xander still suffering some concussion like symptoms after having his bell rung by the briefcase.

Frankie: Whoa…whoa….whoa…BRO…slow your roll.

The Brod has no intention of holding anything back, wanting to tear Frankie’s arms and legs off like he was an annoying insect. But Frankie is able to hold him at bay momentarily, by way of grabbing a mic from Jessica and playing upon the Brod’s better judgment.

Frankie: What’s your problem? You look like you want to go all Incredible Hulk on me or something, Chief. You should be out here patting me on the back, not wanting to punch me in my face. If it wasn’t for me, your little Pumpkin wouldn’t be the World Champion right now…

The Brod snatches Frankie’s wrist and pulls the microphone to his lips.

The Brod: The hell she wouldn’t you little shit! My girl has more talent in the tip of her nose than Rose has in her entire stick thin body….But yeah…you helped her out last week…which I was going to applaud you for…until it all became so clear to me. The reason you helped her win that title…is because you wanted to set her up, to get the championship just close enough so you can take it from my baby girl. Your worse than Orlando…your nothing but slime…

Frankie: Whoa…pump the breaks Brod! I worship the ground your daughter walks on. Seriously man, I’d throw rose petals everywhere she walked if I wouldn’t get cited for littering. Where’s all this hostility coming from.

The Brod: Don’t play stupid with me, Boy. You know damn well what you just did…what this was all about. Since day one you, and Orlando both have been playing my daughter, using her talents to accomplish your own selfish goals…and I’m not going to stand here and take it anymore. I’m not going to let you treat the apple of my eye like some piece of meat.

Frankie: Are you crazy? I would never…NEVER…objectify your daughter. And I would never stand between her and success. It’s like I said last week and here tonight. All I’ve ever wanted to do is what’s best for Tay-Tay. And if you don’t believe me, let me prove it right now.

He pries his wrist away and steps back, holding up the briefcase mere inches from the Brod’s face.

Frankie: I’m not just some creep trying to use Tay-Tay…and to prove it…I’m willing to give her what’s inside of this briefcase. If that doesn’t show you what I really think of your Pumpkin…I don’t know what will.

For once the Brod thinks instead of reacting out of sheer paternal instinct when it comes to defending his daughter. He steps back and lets Frankie take center-stage, actually believing that Paradise could be on the verge of truly doing the right thing by forfeiting the Evolution Championship to his little girl. The selfless act is on the verge of being completed as Frankie pops the latches on the case and lets it fall open.

Frankie: That’s right, I got this just for your daughter, and she’s gonna look oooh so good strutting around in it.

His sentence trails off when both he and The Brod watch the leather whips, gimp mask, and lingerie spill out of the briefcase to the canvas below. Its not the only thing that falls, because so does Frankie’s jaw, having no idea how all these kinky sex objects got into his briefcase, replacing the Evolution Championship belt that was there mere moments ago. Before he can even try to piece together an explanation his mouth is shut by via a closed fist delivered by the Brod.

The briefcase falls to the canvas right alongside Frankie, who tries to cover up as The Brod crawls on top of him, delivering punch after punch after punch to the perverts face.

Dollar: This just backfired big time on Paradise!

The fists continue to connect with Frankie’s skull as he desperately tries to cover up. The Brod only stops punching in order to grab the leather whip that just spilled out of the briefcase.

The Brod: This is what you bought for my Daughter…THIS…you sick little freak!

The whip is not used in the way it should be,, instead of lashing Frankie’s backside, it’s wrapped across his throat, The Brod pushing down on it in order to strangle him.

Tay-Tay: Stop it…stop it…PLEASE DADDY!

The World Champion rushes down the ramp holding the back of her neck in the process, still stinging from all the physicality she’s participated in throughout the night. She slides into the ring and jumps on her Father’s back, forced to physically pry him away from Paradise.

Dollar: What are you doing Tay-Tay? You should be joining in on this beat down, not stopping it.

Susie: It could be the ultimate father, daughter bonding experience.

It takes all of Tay-Tay’s strength, but she’s finally able to drag The Brod off of her would-be suitor. Frankie gasps for air and scrambles across his rear-end into one of the turnbuckles, sitting there wide eyed and dropped jaw, absolutely stunned by…in his mind…this totally unprovoked assault.

The Brod is just as stunned…by the fact that his little girl intervened to save this son of a bitch. He spins around to get some answers, all the while pointing to the lingerie spread over the canvas.

The Brod: How can you defend this pervert? Look at what he did to you backstage…and look at what he had planned for you…

Tay-Tay: Come off it, Daddy, you’re smarter than this….We’re totally being played here.

This insinuation hits the Brod like a bullet in the intestines.

The Brod: What?

Tay-Tay: Don’t be an idiot, Frankie wasn’t the one who attacked me back there….It was all a set-up to get you to do exactly what you just did…

Suddenly it becomes clear, The Brod realizing that the one chink was discovered in his impenetrable façade…his love for Tay-Tay being the one weakness exploited to get him to lash out without thinking things through clearly.

The Brod: Who played us?

Tay-Tay: It was…it was….

She can’t even bring herself to say his name…but that problem is solved when she spots the very culprit eavesdropping from the balcony, his leg thrown over the guardrail

Tay-Tay: That bastard right there!

The Brod whips around, following the finger pointing straight into the smiling face of Silencer.

Dollar: It’s Silencer….he…he…just bamboozled us.

The leather jacket…the briefcase in one hand…and the World Championship over his shoulder…yep…the evidence is beyond incriminating…no jury on the planet would require a second of deliberation.

Dollar: Silencer gets retribution on Paradise for setting him up last week under nearly the exact same circumstances, but more importantly, he now has BOTH the Evolution AND the World Heavyweight Title belts in his possession. This is sticking in Taylor‘s crawl big time…especially the fact that her own father was pulled into the middle of all this by that manipulative bastard Silencer.

Silencer: Ohhhh Tay-Tay…oooooh Frankie…the two of you really should be more careful with your possessions.

The briefcase is raised holding the Evolution Championship inside, and the World Title is held up in the other hand.

Silencer: To teach you both to respect your property…I think I‘m going to keep hold of these for a while.

This proclamation is met with a rousing ovation from the crowd…many of which now chanting Silencer’s name.

Silencer: But maybe I‘ll give them back, once either one of you have managed to…SILENCE…ME!

The opening rift to Silencer’s entrance theme tears through the building as Silencer steps back into the sea of humanity. The fans are slapping his shoulders and embracing this rare opportunity to truly get up close and personal with Simon. He not lets them cop a feel but even gives them a few presents, putting Frankie’s very own leather jacket over the shoulders of a hot, presumably underage girl.

Dollar: Just when I was about to give all the credit in the world to Frankie for being such a master manipulator….here comes Silencer to rain all over his parade.

Susie: How can there be a parade without elephants, and clowns…well…clowns of the less lecherous, creepy variety.

Dollar: Silencer has taken the Evolution Title….he’s taken the World Title…and he’s taken Frankie off his pedestal and brought him crashing right back down to earth.

Frankie doesn’t take this revelation all too well, gnawing at his lower lip and watching as Silencer swings the briefcase containing the Evolution Championship in a windmill fashion. Surprisingly Taylor Chase doesn’t look too upset by what the disgusting sight of Silencer holding her World Title, and instead begins to grin.

Tay-Tay: You have no idea, Silencer…you have no idea…hahaha.

We’ve seen ambulances…we’ve seen stretchers…so why not take things one step further…and introduce a body bag into tonight’s proceedings. A body bag that is loaded on top of a dolly. A body bag that thrashes and writhes, someone obviously trapped inside. But there seems to be nothing the captive can do as Brittany Lohan pushes it along upon said dolly, Cassidy Haze occasionally kicking at the sack.

Cassidy: I do believe Tay-Tay was right when she said that this would be a necessary evil.

Lohan: Tay-Tay always thinks two steps ahead.

Cassidy At least she gave us an easy task tonight. Wasn’t hard finding this bloated turd.

Lohan smirks even at the juvenile insult, riding an emotional high with her protégé at one side, and her mentor at the other. Plus the trio have just accomplished their mission, tracking down their prey with relative ease.

Cassidy: Do you mind holding up? I’ve got to grab something.

Lohan: I’d advice making it quick. Silencer is going to realize something is amiss soon enough.

Cassidy: Should be just a second.

She skips off in the direction of the woman’s locker-room while Lohan stoops down, crouching over the body-bag, stroking the head of whomever is trapped inside. She slowly unzips the sack to reveal the face of Bob, his mouth stuffed with an apple like he were a pig about to be slow roasted. And who knows…that may actually be what happens tonight given the bizarre behavior of Lohan and her student.

Lohan: Don’t worry honey, we’ll have you out of this sack soon enough. Just need it to sneak you out of the building, and then once we reach the car you’ll have all the ham we promised you.

Bob spits out the apple and nods with a giant smile on his face.

Bob: Bob likes ham…you big NICE.

Lohan: Yes…we know that dear. And if you ever want to eat ham again, or see your precious Mnooses…you’ll do as told.

Bob: Don’t you dare touch Bob’s Mnooses…..you big MEAN.

The smile is replaced by legitimate distress.

Lohan: That won’t be necessary, as long as you follow instruction. Understood?

Bob is forced to play along, given his love for the poor defenseless Mnooses. Therefore he opens his mouth and lets Lohan put the apple back inside before zipping up the body-bag.

Mary: I shudder to think of what Tay-Tay is going to make Silencer do to get you back.

Whitman: I think that’s a very intelligent decision, Mr. Creed.

Pearson: I can’t disagree with Mr. Rogers here.

Cameras open right in the midst of an agreement being reached that at last placates the X-Class Champion, P Clarence Whitman III, and one of the potential challengers for his title, Kathryn Pearson. The two stand on opposite sides of Nathan Creed, who has assumed the role of not only peace keeper, but acting as President on behalf of the Motherfuckers. He sits on what use to be Orlando Cruze’s desk….the throne of power…regardless of rather or not Orlando is still acting president…which may or may not be the case after the events of tonight’s telecast. For now at least, while Orlando’s fate is up in the air, Nathan will run the show…a role he seems surprisingly adept at.

Nathan: So we’re all in agreement. Tonight…it’s NOT going to be a six person tag team main event. Instead, what we’re going to see is a four corners tag team tornado match. The Blacklist consisting of Mika Kozlov and Lukas Montgomery, versus the Black Crusade, consisting of Silence and Mr. Hush, versus Kathryn Pearson and a partner of her choice, and P Clarence Whitman III and a partner of his choice. Everything good?

Whitman: Cheers…but I still want an addendum allowing me to wear a fire proximity suit.

Nathan: Don’t press your luck, Whitman.

Whitman: You do realize these people set others ablaze more than an adolescent Drew Barrymore.

Nathan: Just go and find yourselves partners.

Pearson: Way ahead of you.

Attention is purposely drawn to the cell-phone, Kathryn jingling it with her one good arm. She keeps her banged up shoulder curled to her side, which mirrors Nathan’s injured shoulder,. This might explain why he was so eager to please Kathryn, as the two shared a similar fate this evening, all thanks to the Blacklist.

Nathan: What about you, Whitman?

Whitman: Ummm…do you have any plans this evening?

Nathan: Did you think this out clearly before you made the demand to change dance partners?

The X-Class Champion cringes.

Nathan: Yeah….get on that. You have just under about five minutes.

He glances at the clock on the wall, which draws so much closer to the top of the show. As thus Whitman is off and running, desperate to find himself a tag team partner for what will now be a four corners tag team match this evening. Kathryn walks away with a smile on her face, proud over how this night will turn out, now having a partner she’s sure she can trust to have her back…whomever that might be.

Once they’re out of the office, Nathan makes himself truly comfortable, sliding into the leather chair behind his desk and kicking back.

Nathan: Ahhh…I can get use to this…

He leans back and interlocks hands behind his head, getting relaxed just as the door flies open and through it steps the last person in the world he wanted to cross paths with again. Jackson Adams frowns in the direction of his long time nemesis, Nathan Creed, but nevertheless approaches the acting figure head.

Adams: Where is he?

Nathan: Nice to see you too, Jacky Boy.

Adams: Cut the shit…where is he!?!

Adams leans over the table with his knuckles wedged to its surface, getting menacingly close to Britain’s Finest athlete.

Nathan: I presume you’re talking about Cruze.

Adams: I asked you a God damn question…Do I have to fucking Hellen Keller it for you? WH-ER-E ISSS OR-LAN-DO!?!

Nathan: Short answer…I have not a clue.

Adams slaps the table top.

Adams: That’s not good enough…I want answers…and I want answers right now!

Nathan: Well then I suggest you find Orlando.

Adams: He owes me an explanation for the shit he‘s put me through….

Nathan: WHOA….ho…ho…ho!

A laughing Nathan just can’t help but to put Jackson in his place, even if it means unintentionally coming to the aid of Cruze.

Nathan: Seriously? You have the audacity to complain about being given a title shot after you’ve sat on your ass and done nothing for the past month?

Adams: I’m not bitching about my title match…I’m bitching about that month I was FORCED to sit on my ass for no good fucking reason.

Nathan: I hardly think having a concussion counts as no good reason to sit at home….

Jackson blinks his eyes awkwardly, but not because of post concussion syndrome.

Adams: Hold on…time out….what the fuck are you talking about?

Nathan: Did you really get hit THAT hard on the head?

Clearly judging by the expression of confusion on Jackson’s face, he needs a better explanation.

Nathan: You seriously don’t know what I’m on about, do you?

Adams: Ummm, nooooo….seeing as I never had a fucking concussion.

Nathan: Wait…what do you mean?

The migraine Adams is suffering from right now makes it feel like he’s suffering a concussion.

Adams: Jesus Christ…can I say it any clearer? I NEVER HAD A CONCUSSION!

Nathan: So why were you acting the way you did at Awakening?

Adams: Because I was drugged you idiot! I have the blood test to prove it and everything. And I assumed that was partially why I was forced to watch from the sidelines the past few weeks, being forced to pay penance for someone else’s crimes.

Nathan: Soooo…wait a minute…wait a minute…

The migraine seems contagious.

Nathan: Why does Orlando think you had a concussion?

Adams: Am I Kris Angel? Am I a fucking mind reader? Hell no! How would I know why he’s been lying his ass off about me having a concussion? I haven’t a clue what he would have to gain from it.

Nathan: Well that’s just it…

Creed falls back in the chair with interlocked hands raised to his lips.

Nathan:…he wouldn’t.

Into the dimly lit locker-room struts Cassidy Haze, descending upon her stuff already forced into a gym bag. She unzips it in order to pull out a string of hair, twirling it through her fingers.

Hello gorgeous….

The hairs on the back of Haze’s neck stand on end. She turns slowly in order to acknowledge the presence of none other than Damion Sommers, seated comfortably in the woman’s locker-room, wearing pig tails in order to go incognito.

Damion: I didn’t think you were ever going to show up.

It hurts every inch of his anatomy to stand up from the bench, propping himself up with the use of a few lockers. Obviously he’s still suffering the ill-effects of the multiple drops on his head delivered by half the roster earlier in the evening. Nevertheless, even though it aches every portion of his body to so much as take a step, he shuffles across the room towards Haze. Naturally Cassisy is fishing the blade out of the back of her ring gear, holding it at the ready.

Haze: Damion Sommers!

She shouts with elation.

Haze; What do you want?

Any pretense of elation fades at the drop of a hat

Damion: Oh I’m just here to bask in the light of your beauty, Pumpkin Pie.

The moment a hand falls on his shoulder, Cassidy flicks out the blade, yet keeps it hidden behind the small of her back.

Haze: Awww…how sweet.

She responds with affection.

Haze: Now why are you really here?

Any pretense of affection fades at the drop of a hat.

Damion: I’ve been watching you lately, Pooh, and I’ve enjoyed what I’ve seen. Which is rare, because I don’t get enjoyment out of most things. Something about you…just…just inspires me though. Which is why I think we’d make the perfect pair.

Haze: Hmmmm…are you asking me out? I’m not a cheap date.

Damion: Oh, we’re well past the dating portion in our relationship. In my mind we’ve already been on a hundred dates, and in my dreams, we’ve gone a lot…lot further.

Haze: Thanks for sharing.

Damion: So I say we take this to the next level.

Haze: Damion, this is so sudden. You haven’t even met my Parents yet.

Sommers lifts one of her hands into the air and plants a kiss on the back of her knuckles.

Damion: Cassidy, will you let me be your tag team partner at Upping the Ante?

Several deep breathes are taken by Cassidy, who drops her knife in favor using her other hand, the one not presently being kissed by Sommers, to fan her face.

Haze: This…this…this is so….I’ll have to think about it.

Damion: Absolutely. I’ll give you all the time you need.

The psychologically seductive Sommers backs away from his muse, who swoons upon going back to her bag. She is going through her objects before feeling a tap on the shoulder, prompting her to spin around to come eye to eye with Sommers.

Damion: Have you made up your mind yet?

Cameras shift back to Johnny Dollar and Susie Moore, who silently stew after the last few pieces of footage have been provided, reflecting on everything they’ve witnessed thus far tonight.

Susie: Awww…it looks like Cassidy Haze may have just found herself a partner. Those two would make such a cute couple…in the totally disturbing, psychotic sense.

Dollar: Indeed. This whole tag team title situation is just as twisted as what’s going on with the World Title…let’s go back and show you what happened a few moments ago here involving the sordid situation which unraveled before our very eyes involving Frankie Paradise, Silencer, The Brod, and World Champion, Taylor Chase.

MOMENTS AGO

The obligatory recap is provided to offer an abbreviated version of the pre-commercial scene that unfolded, showcasing Frankie trying to ward off the Brod with a briefcase that he THOUGHT was holding the Evolution Championship. Instead a bundle of S&M gear comes pouring out, leading to a violent response from the Brod, pummeling Paradise with a lethal barrage of fists.

Dollar: Frankie tried to win The Brod over with that briefcase Gavin Taylor and Adam Chase stole from Axl Evermore last week…but apparently Silencer pulled a switcheroo with the briefcases when he snatched Frankie’s sunglasses and leather jacket earlier tonight. And as a result, Frankie ended up offering The Brod some…well…gear you’ll only see Cassidy Haze and Damion Sommers enjoying.

The footage continues with Tay-Tay dragging The Brod off of Frankie, and then the quarreling trio having a stare-down with the man who put them all at odds with each other, Silencer. He stands on the balcony and holds up the briefcase containing the real Evolution Championship, and in the other hand he clutches the stolen World Title belt.

Dollar: And then Frankie and the Brod were clued into the elaborate rouse that was pulled on them by Silencer, who took off with the World Heavyweight Title and the Evolution Championship. But apparently Taylor Chase knew this was coming, because she had Brittany Lohan, Cassidy Haze and Typhoid Mary pulling the first case of Bobnapping we’ve ever seen.

The video cuts to another, this one featuring Bob in a body bag being snuck from the building by the vicious trio of ladies.

Dollar: Bob taken by Lohan, Haze, and Mary at the behest of Taylor Chase, who knew Silencer was up to something..and didn’t for one second believe that Frankie Paradise was the one who assaulted her backstage.

From the beautiful yet brutal trio backstage the video segues to the affluent and the absurd pair seated behind the commentators table.

Susie: Well at least the show is almost over…and things couldn’t possibly get anymore twisted at this poin….

Dollar: Hold that thought, Susise, and I’m surprised you’re actually capable of having one by the way….

Susie: Yeah, and my head didn’t explode or anything…I’m just as surprised.

Dollar: Before we get off the topic of the Tag Team Title situation at Upping the Ante…

Susie: I thought we already did.

Dollar: I have a proposition of my own I’d like to make to either of the challengers for the Tag Team Titles. But instead of employing words, I think it be smarter to use THIS brilliant piece of cinematography I spent the better part of an afternoon putting together on my home PCU.

This coming “Upping the Ante”, there promises to be a lot on the line. And with such high stakes, such as bringing tag team champions into the mix, don’t you want a strong and dependent person to bring such greatness?

Johnny Dollar, the richest man in SCW and IWC. A man of wealth and integrity.

A man not afraid to fight for what he believes in.

A man for you and a man for all of IWC.

A man who isn’t afraid to voice his wishes on tag team title gold.

Johnny Dollar for Porno Lad’s partner at Upping the Ante. The richest man. The richest choice. Richest…period.

Paid for by the Million-Dollar Corporation and The Bottom Dollar.

The intro to “Enemies” by Shinedown doesn’t get the kind of pop anyone would particularly care to hear, unless your really into self deprecation. But Lukas Montgomery and Mika Kozlov are above the hate, the heckles, the harassment, acting with indifference to the insults thrown their way as they embark towards the ring to compete against three teams who are out to absolutely crush them mind, body and soul.

Dollar: Yeah baby, that was absolutely breathtaking…wasn’t it…wasn’t it? You gotta admit that was the most amazing piece of footage you’ve seen since an accidental clit shot of some sexy teenage actress.

Susie: You can’t even cite an example?

Dollar: You’ve seen one clit, you’ve seen them all. But we’re about to see some entirely different types of shots taken here tonight, as the six person tag match we were promised has now been transformed to a four corners match, the Blacklist about to go at it with three separate teams all in a valiant effort to claim dominance headed into that High Stakes match at Upping the Ante.

Susie: There have been so many changes made tonight its near-on impossible to keep track of everything.

Dollar: Hence the ear-mic..Susie…all hail the might ear-mic giving us all the information we’ll ever need. Such as this little tid-bit. Earlier tonight the Blacklist proved they were damn near unstoppable, but will they have the same luck when that bell rings and it actually matters? They’ve got three teams out to crush them this evening, what with the Black Crusade…consisting of Mr. Hush and Silence…P Clarence Whitman teaming with…whomever….and Kathryn Pearson teaming with…whomever…

Susie: Whomever is gonna have their hands full tonight.

Mika and Lukas look unconcerned regarding whomever their opponents will be tonight, still operating under the belief that they’re controlling things this evening, and not a soul can oppose them…especially not anyone participating in this match.

“Miseria Contare” by AFI…it plays just as two unique sigils flash on the screen, a one eyed crown of jewels and halo taking precedence. Mr. Hush and Al Todd-Meriweather of the Black Crusade are out first, with the Black Crusade butler swaying rhythmically to the music and Al shouting at the Blacklist from the stage.

Al: Prepare for a sound thrashing, you beef-witted-apple-johns!

Silence steps to the stage at this point, adding an intimidation factor that Mr. Hush slightly lacks due to his flamboyance. She strolls forth at a methodical pace, gazing back and forth, keeping a weary eye ever vigilante.

Dollar: Mr. Hush and Silence about to compete for the very first time in an official capacity. We’ve seen them both get very physical in the past few months, during that N.H.B Title match at Awakening…AND…Mr. Hush has repeatedly gotten into fisticuffs with PCW3, hence why Percy got a bug up his ass and requested to have another partner this evening.

Susie: I had a bug up my butt too, but that got cured with some Lindane Shampoo.

Dollar: Hence why my chair is scooted so far away from your own. Well, these two have proved they’re more than capable of brawling, but how will they wrestle against the likes of the Blacklist and so many others tonight in their first official match…which also happens to be their first main event.

Wisely the Blacklist has vacated the ring, watching and joking at the expense of Mr. Hush and Silence, an odd pear if there ever was one. Mr. Hush makes an even greater scene via rolling to the outside, leaping the barricade and then pulling some streamers out of his pockets, he throws them over the ropes right at Silence, one of them hitting her in the upper back. She spins around and presumably frowns beneath her mask at Mr. Hush, who instantly points to a chubby child at his side.

“Rip Out the Wings of a Butterfly” by HIM blares through the speakers and to the stage steps Kathryn Pearson to a massive uproar from the crowd. She smiles at their warm reception but instead of heading towards the ring amidst this toasty response, she pauses, not embarking towards the ring until she gestures for someone to follow suit and make their own grand entrance.

Dollar: Looks like Kathryn actually found herself a tag team partner for this evening, and FYI, Porno Lad, you’d be foolish not to pick me as your partner at Upping the Ante. Did you not just see that footage? If that doesn’t sway you, you’re dead inside.

Susie: Let’s see who Kathryn picked. I bet its Bob…please God let it be Bob.

Dollar: I doubt Bob can compete when stuffed inside of a body-bag.

Susie: If anyone could do it, it would be Bob.

The lights dim as the screen springs to life up above the entrance as ‘overture’ (Instrumental) by Icon for Hire plays through the PA system and a pink silhouette appears on the screen, walking towards us.

The intro is instantly recognizable by any self respecting wrestling fan, evident by their huge pop, especially as the music segues into ‘Theatre’ by the same band. That’s when the curtains part and Yvonne Knight steps through the curtains making her way out beside her protégé, Kathryn Pearson.

Dollar: Yvonne Knight!?! The trainer of Kathryn Pearson wisely selected to be Pearson’s tag team partner tonight. That is huge not only for Kathryn…but for the IWC…as Yvonne makes a HUGE in ring debut here on IWC soil.

Susie: Speaking of soil…I’m sure several fans just soiled themselves at the sight of Yvonne coming out here to join Pearson.

Dollar: This is truly an absolute shocker here tonight….Yvonne Knight debuts, and she stands UNITED beside her partner, Pearson. Kathryn won’t have to worry about any trust issues tonight, not like at the pay-per-view.

Pearson and Yvonne dart to the ring, Knight slapping a few hands in the process. Katthryn however, is entirely focused on the Blacklist, the two who injured her shoulder earlier in the night. Some ace wrap remains tightened around Kathryn’s shoulder, showing some war wounds from her earlier brush with the pair. The two then slide in under the ropes and leap to their feet, immediately gesturing towards Mika and Lukas. Kozlov brushes off the pair, deeming them unworthy while Lukas makes some lewd gestures in the direction of Pearson, only further antagonizing her.

Dollar: Well Pearson picked a great partner to stand at her side tonight as she goes to war with the Blacklist….Yvonne Knight shockingly in the middle of an IWC ring. But now the bar has been raised, so who’s P Clarence Whitman III going to bring out here as his tag team partner?

The answer doesn’t have to wait very long. No music plays but Whitman nevertheless makes his way to the stage in his traditional wrestling garb and weighed down by the X-Class Champion thrown upon shoulder. He overlooks the fans while taking a very deep breathe, knowing that their hopes are high and he’s undoubtedly about to let them down. He turns, gestures, and instantly from the back steps the newest member of Kitty’s Khristian Kollective, the man formerly known as Wino-Jack. His face is now clean cut revealing the numerous wrinkles lining his flesh, as well as all the nooks, crannies and fissures embedded into his skin. He steps to the stage wearing his KKK t-shirt while clutching tightly to the crucifix around his throat.

Dollar: Uhhh.. This is no Yvonne Knight. Whitman teaming up with….Wino-Jack of all people?

Susie: But he’s just Jack now…right? No more Wino?

Dollar: Which could be a really bad thing for Whitman, considering alcohol is what made Jack so invincible in the past. But I guess Clarence didn’t have very much in the way of time to find a partner considering he only had five minutes to do it.

Whitman reluctantly descends upon the ring, clearly not convinced that he’s found a suitable replacement for the Black Crusade tonight, but he made his bed, one he’d rather not share with the former transient. Nevertheless the two climb to the apron and take their corner, ready to participate in this blockbuster tag team main event.

Dollar: Whitman and Jack rounding out the last of the four teams slated to compete in this evenings main event. I wonder if the X-Class Champion is regretting not going through with the scheduled six person tag at this point. Though he can’t trust the Black Crusade, at least their better than Wino-Jack. Actually, I think anyone would be.

The bell chimes and Pearson and Knight instantly drop to the mats and rush around both sides of the ring, going right at the Blacklist. Mika and Lukas react, the two teams instantly going at it with a barrage of fists.

Dollar: And we are underway, with Pearson and Knight going right after the Blacklist. It’s broken down here already.

A very…very sad realization sets in on the our X-Class Champion at this moment, as he watches the two femmes wage war with the Blacklist outside the ring…that revelation being that he and Wi…JACK, are alone in the ring with the source of all his fears, the Black Crusade.

As thus Whitman snaps around to face the very man who has been quite the prick in his bicep…literally…giving him the tattoo that he has still yet to wash away fully. Mr. Hush looks Whitman up and down without uttering a word, only heightening Whitman’s state of alarm. At last Whitman bucks up,m literally pushing out his chest and pretending that he has not mortified by the bowler hat wearing fiend before him. He steps towards Mr. Hush, BOLDLY steps before lifting a palm into the air. He then points at it several times as Mr. Hush looks up at the twiddling fingers, wondering what in the hell he’s implying here.

Dollar: Is Whitman actually calling for a test of strength with Mr. Hush?

Susie: I don’t think he’d even beat ME in a test of strength.

Mr. Hush examines the open palm of Whitman, who continues to point to it, insistent that the two tie up and finally prove who is the superior man. Mr. Hush begins to step in before Whitman puts his palms down and now outstretches them in a defensive stance.

Whitman: Wait…wait…wait…I’m not ready yet.

Whitman steps back to the impatience of Mr. Hush and shouts at Jack in the corner. The former alcoholic follows instructions to the letter, reaching over and massaging Whitman’s shoulders.

Whitman: Give me just a moment to work this pain out of my neck, then you’ll get a jolly good rogering you will.

Mr. Hush bats his eyes at Silence, who shrugs, realizing without words, that her masked compatriot is asking her rather British people actually speak in such a stereotypical fashion.

As Whitman gets his massage the violence escalates outside of the ring. The vengeful Pearson is unloading on Kozlov, hitting her repeatedly with right hand after right hand to the face, exacting payback on the woman who assaulted her backstage AND manipulated her way into stealing her X-Class Title shot. A boot to the ribs doubles Kozlov over and puts her head in perfect position for a side headlock.

She then rushes across the mats and begins to dive forward only to have Mika push her off the attempted bulldog. She flies forward right into the steel steps but lands feet first on top of them. At the same time Yvonne is brawling with Montgomery on the opposite side of the steps. Somehow Lukas gets the better of his opponent…well…there’s actually no mystery to it, as the thumb to the eye gives him a definite unfair advantage. He then grabs Yvonne by the wrist and drags her forward into the short arm clothesline,b ut she ducks and continues to let her momentum carry forward right towards the steel steps Kathryn is standing on top of.

Pearson leaps over her trainer and lands on Lukas’ shoulders before snapping off with a hurricarana. At the same time, Yvonne dives under her student, over the steps and catches Mika around the neck, pulling her around into a tornado DDT that drives her skull first right into the mats.

Dollar: Incredible tandem offense from both Yvonne Knight and Kathryn Pearson, student and teacher working as an effective pairing to bring down the Blacklist onslaught.

The fans are just as excited by what they saw as Dollar, demonstrating as much through their raucous exclamations.

Back inside of the ring Whitman seems to be finally ready after having Jack grab him a spit bucket and a bottle of water. He squirts some water into his mouth, swishes it around and deposits his saliva into the bucket. Oddly enough Whitman has a handkerchief stuffed in the back of his wrestling tights, employing to dabble his lips and remove any secretion that may have been left behind by his ungentlemanly spit.

He then puts his dukes up and inches out of the corner as Mr. Hush searches everywhere for a clock that will tell him how much of his life has just been wasted. At last Whitman lifts his arms into the air before slapping his shoulders and insisting that the two settle their test of manhood through a collar elbow tie.

Mr. Hush moves in and is just about to lock up with the X-Class Champion, when Whitman backs away and pantomimes a timing out motion with his hands. He then shouts again towards Kitty’s brainwashed minion, who reaches into his pocket and removes a bottle of hand lubricant. He puts a dab in the outstretched palm of Whitman, who then rubs his hands together in order to ensure that their properly lubricated.

Silence: Can we get a move on this already, Percy!?!

Whitman: Hey now wretched woman …don’t cheapen this for me.

Finally Whiman’s hands are properly lubed and it appears that they will not risk being cracked or chapped. Therefore he steps forward in order to establish that basic collar elbow tie he was insistent upon locking in earlier. Mr. Hush takes the bait and falls hook, line and sinker into the trap yet again. The moment Mr. Hush gets within range, Clarence whistles for a time out and throws his handkerchief down at the Black Crusade member’s feet as if it were a flag.

Whitman: Wait…wait…wait…one more pre-match ritual, and then I’ll be ready, I assure you…Mr. Wino…

Jack: It’s Jack…just plan Jack…how many times do I have to friggin tell you?

Whitman: Fine…fine…be a dear and fetch the table would you?

Clearly Clarence had this well thought out in advance, finding ways to undermine the potential likelihood that he’d receive a vicious lashing, this time via the props he took the liberty of hiding beneath the ring. Several of which Jack now brings into play. A small table slides in first which Whitman quickly sets up. Then a silver serving tray with some fine dishes upon it and a sterling teapot in the middle, is inserted into the squared circle. The tray is placed upon the table and two stools are provided by Jack so that the two can sit and enjoy a nice glass of pre-match tea.

Dollar: Am I the one now suffering from concussion related dementia?

Susie: Ummm….why do Whitman and Jack get to have their tea party, yet I’m not allowed to have even one more edition of my fabled Susie’s Tea Party interview segment?

Dollar: Whitman going to absolutely absurd lengths in order to prevent participating in this match.

As the delay continues Mr. Hush rolls under the ropes and reaches beneath the ring, grabbing his own props. He throws a pillow into the ring a small blanket before rolling in and crawling under the sheet. He fluffs the pillow and places his head on it, taking a nap.

But no one is restful outside of the ring, especially not the Blacklist, who are still reeling as a result of the violence the united Kathryn and Yvonne are unleashing upon them. Knight has dragged Mika to her feet and has a shoulder wedged to her stomach, powering her spine first into the apron. Mika connects with the apron forcefully, causing her to almost lose her footing…almost…instead she goes twisting towards the steel steps, falling against them for support.

On the opposite side of the stairs Kathryn has reached her feet and now reaches with her hands for Mika’s hair. She grabs hold of it and obviously has something very destructive in mid only to have Lukas stagger in behind her, and leap into the air, nailing Pearson to the upper back with a diving knee strike. She is propelled forward into the barricade, literally spinning as she loses her footing and collides with the steel.

Mika continues to lean on the steps, seemingly having no idea that Montgomery just spared her a cruel fate…for the time being…..because Knight is dashing in behind her to rectify her protégé’s mistake. But Kozlov seems to possess such clairvoyance and super sharp reflexes that it would even make Peter Parker ashamed of himself.

Kozlov turns and ducks just as Yvonne charges past going for the lariat. Knight’s forward momentum carries her into the steps, but like Mika earlier, she leans upon them instead of crashes into them…a costly mistake. She has no idea that Lukas has climbed to the apron at her side and is leaping off, landing across the back of his leg on the back of Yvonne’s skull and driving her down face first into the stairs with a version of the fameouser.

Dollar: So much for Yvonne….Lukas may have just taken her out with one move…ONE MOVE! A very well timed and absolutely brutal one.

Susie: It is Halloween….everyone seems to be channeling their inner monster.

Dollar: For people like the Blacklist…Halloween must last 365 days a year then, Susie.

Susie: I wish it did, because then I could always wear my Bob costume.

Just as Yvonne falls to her seat, leaning back first against the steps, Kozlov comes barreling in and throws her whole body into a cannon ball, connecting with a version of the rolling senton right into Knight, crushing the legend between her body and the steps.

Dollar: And God did it ever just get worse for Knight.

Within the ring Whitman continues to do exactly what Silence suggested, embracing British stereotypes, even going as far as extending his pinkie finger from the surface of his tea cup during each sip. He engages in proper tea-time conversation with Jack, who is stuffing his mouth with a crumpet that originated from God only knows where.

Silence enters the ring and approaches the duo, Whitman surprisingly offering her a spot across the table. Instead she seems to have her eyes set on the teapot, picking it up and examining it slowly.

Silence: Care for a refill?

The hot tea is turned and from the spout burning hot liquid pours directly into Whitman’s lap, but to everyone’s surprise, Clarence has absolutely no reaction. Instead of responding to the singing of his gonads, Whitman acts totally aloof, even taking another swig of tea.

Silence: Wait a minute….

Silence drops to her knees and does something truly inappropriate, snatching at the zipper of Whitman’s trouser.

Whitman: My goodness. I don’t work this fast, we’ve only been on one date.

The fly is undone in order to reveal the fire proximity suit under his wrestling gear.

Silence: The fix is in.

Whitman: Well mother always told me to wear proper protection.

Silence: What did I tell you about discussing your Mother!?!

The table is flipped over right on top of Whitman. He ends up on his back with the table stretched over him as he desperately tries to wiggle out from under it. This process is impeded when Jack stands, gets a boot to the ribs and then is snap suplexed right over onto the table, crushing Whitman beneath,

Dollar: Silence having no where near the patience that Mr. Hush possesses…first revealing that Whitman was wearing that protective fire suit beneath his clothes due to his insatiable fear of being set on fire by the Blacklist, and then suplexing Jack on top of him.

Susie: So tea time is over already? I didn’t even get a damn crumpet. Or a streusel. Wait, are streusels served with tea?

Dollar: I would advice you to ask Whitman, but I think he’s nowhere near conscious enough to give an answer.

Jack is surprisingly back up on his feet and lunging at Silence again only this time to get caught around the knee and the neck. She snaps back into a T-Bone suplex, and the moment Jack collides with the canvas Mr. Hush steps in, grabs him around the legs, hooking the creases and seems to be signaling for an Antonio Cesaro style giant swing.

As the crowd gets ready for a bout of dizziness, and Jack prepares to fill like he’s back on the sauce, Pearson prepares to keep her trainer from being destroyed by the Blacklist. The Blacklist has Yvonne sat up against the steel steps with Mika wedging her hands to the trainer’s throat, choking her in true act of depravity. Lukas in the meanwhile is signaling for Mika to get out of the way. The moment she does Lukas barrels across the ring and dives into a forward flipping senton of his own. But at the last possible second Kathryn grabs Yvonne’s wrist and drags her out of the way, causing Montgomery to crash forcefully into the steel with nothing to show for his efforts but a bruised lower back.

Pearson is then given a kick to the gut for her trouble, Mika defending her partner…who is closer to her than a brother. She then grabs Kathryn’s arms, setting up for the Das-vi-Dania right on the outside mats.

Speaking of sets up, Mr. Hush has finally finished putting Jack into the giant swing position. He then exploits all his strength to turn around and just barely get his opponent’s body up off the canvas. He makes two full revolutions but then stops and drops Jack, staggering around as if he’s made HIMSELF incredibly dizzy.

Silence: MY TURN!

Silence steps in, grabs the creases of Jack’s knees and now begins to spin in circle after circle after circle, heaving her opposition effortlessly into the air and just as effortlessly making revolution after revolution.

Kathryn Pearson rotates as well, spinning right out of the double arm DDT predicament but still being held by the wrist. Kozlov pulls her forward and Pearson ducks at the last second before leaping to the apron behind her Blacklist opponent. Mika turns around and eats the heel of Pearson, mule kicking Kozlov to the face from her upright position on the apron.

Kathryn then turns to face the ring as a dizzy Mr. Hush falls into the ropes in front of her and upchucks Asiatic mist right into her eyes.

Dollar: Ohhhh…Mr. Hush just got so sick he misted right in Kathryn’s face…And speaking of sick, I think Jack’s gonna need a vomit bucket considering he’s been spun around about thirty times now with this giant swing from Silence.

Susie: How is anyone expected to follow all of this? How I ask…HOW!?!

The crowd confirms Dollar’s suspicions, counting to 31 after Silence has made yet ANOTHER full rotation with Jack trapped in her clutches. Speaking of someone being trapped in another’s clutches, that’s the fate Kathryn befalls, desperately brushing mist out of her eyes just as Mika steps in under her, grabbing an ankle and ripping it right from under her body. Kathryn’s legs go airborne but her body goes crashing down HARD face and shoulder first into the apron.

Dollar: JEEZ! A head is not meant to bend that way.

Fans: 32-33-34!

Whitman brushes himself off after getting out from under the table and then staggers to the cente rof the ring when Jack ends up being swung right into the back of his knees. The X-Class Champion collapses to his back and Silence releases Jack…why…because now she has the opportunity to torment someone else. She steps in, grabs Whitman’s legs and lifts the frantic X-Class Champion into the air, spinning around and around and around into ANOTHER giant swing.

Dollar: How is this woman not puking her guts out?

Susie: Well Mr. Hush and Legion had extensive training in the Himalayas to prevent feeling pain when given low blows…I’m guessing that Silence had training on many carnival rides to keep her from feeling dizziness.

Fans: 20-21-22!

The big swing only ends when Kozlov dives over top of Whitman just as she’s swung under her legs and nails a spinning heel kick to the side of Silence’s face. She drops Clarence and almost drops herself, but stays upright and goes twisting toward into her own partner. She collides with the still sick Mr. Hush’s back, knocking him through the ropes and to the apron. He begins to stand up on said apron when Lukas leaps up behind him and wedges a boot right to his rear-end, shoving him Mr. Hush forward, skull first into the exposed steel turnbuckle post.

Mr. Hush can’t stop his momentum as he goes charging with cranium crushing impact against the steel. He bounces off and twists to the outside mats, landing right in the arms of Yvonne Knight.

For all of Yvonne’s hidden talents, freakish, Silence style strength, is not one of them. She collapses to her back just as Mr. Hush lands on top of her. The incredibly dazed Mr. Hush then rolls over, finding that he’s seated on top of Yvonne’s face, her nose going right up into his anal cavity.

She squirms and trashes beneath the Black Crusade member, who is holding his noggin with both hands. Above him, inside of the ring, Silence has stood up and holds the top rope just as Lukas reaches out from the apron, catches her around the back of the head then drops to the outside. Silence’s throat snaps off the top rope and she goes staggering back right into the waiting arms of Kozlov, who goes airborne, catches her opponent around the jaw, then delivers the reverse neck breaker.

The moment the back of Silence’s head hits the canvas, causing her to pop up onto her seat, Lukas rushes into the ring and delivers a boot right to her face. Silence is knocked to the canvas after this Blacklist barrage.

Dollar: Just like we saw earlier in the night, the Blacklist is taking total control of everything going on in that ring. These two are truly so synch with one another, it’s scary. Hence why they’re going to have such a strong advantage in that High Stakes match at Upping the Ante.

Referee Blacker is having an absolute blast as she watches all of this, and does absolutely nothing to try ad get any semblance of control over the insanity…where would the fun be in that?

Two people who are apparently going to two things…jack and shit…about the Blacklist’s onslaught, are Clarence and his partner. Instead of fighting off the onslaught of Mika and Montgomery, the two have gotten to their feet and staggered into one another, exchanging right hands.

Susie: Te-he-he…Whitman and Jack are so dizzy they’re actually fighting each other!

Whitman lifts Jakc into the air for a scoop slam but loses his balance, having no idea its his partner who comes down on top of him. Jack now slaps the canvas, insisting Michelle get off her high horse and do her job. Before Blacker can tell him that he’s pinning his own tag team partner, Jack rolls off of Whitman’s chest and instead ends up sitting on top of his face. Whitman’s nose goes…well…you already know where this is leading, and the X-Class Champion tries desperately to get out of this stinky predicament he’s placed in.

The only thing that ends his misery is another running boot from Montgomery, this time delivered right to Jack’s face. The former hobo collapses onto his back, lying incapacitated and immobile.

Immobile of his own accord to be accurate, because Montgomery is dragging him to the center of the ring while watching his partner from the corner of his eye. Mika sets up the tea table that was flipped over moments ago, getting it into position just a few inches away. Lukas then backs up to the turnbuckle and drags Jack’s head under his seat before wrapping his arms around his opponent’s waist and heaving him up into the air.

As this disturbing scene prepares to play out, Mika has reached into her vinyl short tights and removed her I-Phone, taking some pictures of the pending calamity.

Dollar: Oh…oh my…this is gonna be bad…rreeeeeaaal bad for Wino-Jack!

Susie: And for the tea table.

Lukas has Jack hung upside down and now sticks an arm through his legs so he can jump off the turnbuckle and connect with a cradle piledriver. Jack crashes right through the table directly on top of his head via the middle rope piledriver variation, his body bending up and snapping like a twig upon impact.

Dollar: Cradle….CRADLE…Cradle piledriver from the second rope through that table. Jack’s night is done…..and so is his career. I think the Blacklist just claimed yet another victim.

Several pictures are snapped of the table, and the possibly broken neck of Jack….Mika making sure she gets some close up images of all this violence before hitting the ‘send’ button oddly enough…delivering the images to God only knows who.

A holy shit chant is justifiably given to the beyond brutal Cradle Piledriver unleashed by the potential challenger for the N.H.B Champion, who just demonstrated that he is completely in his depth when competing under hardcore rules.

Dollar: Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve GOT to take our last commercial break…hopefully that’ll give us time to get help for Jack. Stick with us…you ain’t gonna want to miss none of this craziness.

Susie: You mean there’s still more to come? Thank God I popped some Zoloft before the show. But in my own defense I thought they were Skittles.

Jack convulses across the canvas because that’s just about all he can do as the show fades into the final commercial of the evening….meaning we’ll be sticking with this match uninterrupted right to its gruesome conclusion.

And we’re back just like that, picking up almost exactly where we left off, with bodies flying everywhere, and no semblance of order in this four corners tag team match. The only different being that the broken table and broken body of Jack have at last been cleared from the ring.

Dollar: Ladies and gentlemen, during the commercial break, in what has become an all too familiar sight around here, Wino-Jack was carted out of the building on a stretcher after taking a devastating cradle piledriver through a table.

Susie: Good luck finding him an ambulance to get him to the hospital in.

They may be lining up in droves to take that journey to the hospital if this match gets any crazier. Right now the wrath of Kozlov and Montgomery has turned to Whitman, who is trapped under a lethal barrage of boots from the two. Lukas then rolls the X-Class Champion to his stomach, drops at his side and applies the EPICrossface. Instead of getting it legally established though, he throws in a fish hook of the nostrils and the mouth.

Mika makes sure she gets some great footage of this as well, circling around the traumatized Champion with her I-Phone snapping pictures.

Mika: Hurt him…HURT HIM…That’s NOT good enough…hurt him some more!

Again the pictures she’s taken are sent off to some unknown destination…someone being the proud recipient of photographs featuring Whitman’s face being mauled and mangled. Kozlov now stands behind the two in order to check and make sure her message went through, but it proves to be a bad position for her and Lukas alike.

Mr. Hush rushes in out of nowhere, catches the back of Mika’s head and hits a double handed bulldog that puts her down forehead first right on top of Lukas’ shoulder, forcing him to break the crossface. Kozlov flips to her back and Lukas rolls away, gripping at his possibly broken rotator cuff, leaving Mika t the mercy of the Black Crusade.

Mr. Hush then leaps to his feet and sticks his arms out to his sides, crouching slightly. The fans are instantly clued in to what he has on tap, especially as he leaps on one foot, and then does it again, and again, turning away from Mika in the process and putting some distance between them.

Fans: H-U-S-H!

The spell out his name in accordance with each single leg hop that he makes. He then drops to the canvas and performs the best rendition of the worm ever seen before hopping out the dance move to his feet, flopping his arms this way and that way, then delivering a big dropping chop across Mika’s chest.

Dollar: I never thought I’d see the worm again, and I wish I never had.

Mr. Hush then crawls into the cover on Mika, believing that the chop was enough to get the job done.

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Lukas grabs Mr. Hush by the ankle and drags him off of the pin, keeping the Blacklist alive. Then two sets of hands reach under the ropes, grab BOTH of Lukas’ ankles and pulls them out from under his body. He collapses to the canvas, and Yvonne and Kathryn then pull him to the outside by his legs. He lands right in front of Yvonne and Pearson, who deliver a step up enzugari and super kick combination.

Dollar; Quick..vicious…and effective.

Susie: Are you describing your sex life?

Dollar: Probably…yeah.

Montgomery collapses to his back, leaning spine first against the announce table and looking totally void of consciousness at this moment. Finally Kathryn and Yvonne have their opponent right where they want him, Lukas at the mercy of this united front.

Mr. Hush is clearly unaware of what he’s doing as he reaches through the ropes and grabs for the hair of both ladies. This prompts them to take their focus off of Montgomery and back to the man who victimized them equally in some capacity, be it spitting mist in Kathryn’s face or sitting on Yvonne’s.

Pearson takes point, leaping into the air and nailing a big knee strike to the face of Mr. Hush, delivering the knock out shot. But true punishment comes in the form of the next maneuver, as Knight leaps to the apron on one side of the Black Crusade member, and Kathryn climbs up onto the apron on the side opposite of her opponent. Student and Teacher nod at one another then take off simultaneously, delivering stereo basement dropkicks to the sides of Mr. Hush’s head, sandwiching his skull between four boots.

The masked Mr. Hush collapses to his knees but still subconsciously lets his head dangle over the middle rope. Normally Yvonne and Kathryn would probably go in for the kill, but their attention is on the destruction of one man, and it isn’t Mr. Hush.

Lukas gets to his feet using the announce table as a prop before two leaping forearms connect with his upper back, knocking him down to the mats once again. Kathryn and Yvonne land on their feet and then the two instantly begin pummeling him with forearms.

Dollar: The Blacklist getting it from all sides tonight. First Harrison whisked away in the ambulance after being assaulted by four men…and now Montgomery getting punished by Pearson and a woman who wasn’t even supposed to be competing here tonight…in Yvonne Knight.

Susie: You get a lot more than you bargain for whenever you tune into an IWC telecast.

Dollar: As long as it’s not Tommy Wiseau clips, I’m happy.

Pearson is relishing the next opportunity presented to her as Yvonne tucks Lukas’ arms behind his back and lifts up on them, exposing him to the pending devastation, leaving him defenseless against Kathryn’s vengeance. Just as Pearson moves in and begins to deliver right hands to the face of Lukas, in between slaps to the cheek. Two familiar figures leap over the barricade…familiar in the sense that they’ve been seen around the wrestling world…but NEVER in the IWC.

Dollar: Hey….hey…I recognize these two…that’s “The Maniac” Gary Matt, Taylor Chase’s ex-husband…and that’s Brooklyn Smith!

Susie: Why are they here?

Dollar: Does it sound like I have a damned clue?

Susie: I’m going to take the safe bet and just assume they’re here to hurt people.

Dollar: Safest bet you’ve ever made.

And who are they here to hurt? Well it seems that they’re quite indiscriminate in these regards. Michelle Blacker, given her passion for violence, merely watches and makes absolutely no attempt to call for a bell when the Maniac slides into the ring and instantly avoids a bicycle kick from Mika. He then steps behind Kozlov, takes her under the arms, hoists her up and drives her down to the canvas via the full nelson slam.

The Brain Damage connects and leaves Mika convulsing on the canvas. The X-Class Champion then steps in and throws a right hand only to have it blocked by Matt, only to get hit with a kick to the gut, doubling him over. Gary then charge sin, catches him around the head and delivers a swinging neck breaker.

The X-Class Champion was still way too dizzy to block that last move, nor can he defend himself against the top rope leg drop that connects from Brooklyn. The fans react with an explosive ovation at the sight of Smith’s high flying maneuver, incapacitating Clarence. He then rolls to the outside of the ring while Yvonne and Knight are brought into the fold. Kathryn was in the process of hopping to the apron, about to take flight and hit another diving strike on Montgomery, who is caught in the clutches of Yvonne and held in place…when the Maniac grabs Kathryn‘s hair, spinning her around. He goes for a right hand only to have Pearson duck, throw her shoulder through the ropes, and drive it into Gary‘s stomach. Yvonne drops Lukas and gets involved. The pair roll in and another exchange of rights and lefts begins, with Yvonne exchanging shots with the Maniac, and Pearson brawling with Smith.

Dollar; And now Pearson and Knight fighting it out with these two….who were clearly here to make a major statement…but to whom?

The fist fight wages on between both groups, who spill through the ropes, and then over the barricade into the crowd. The fans disperse as Knight and the Maniac launch fists into one another’s faces and Smith and Pearson are trying to one up one another through a series of knife edge chops mixed in with forearms.

Dollar; “Maniac” Gary Matt and Brooklyn Smith wanting to make an immediate impact by interfering in our main event this evening…but Pearson and Knight are having none of it fighting these two off. How many times can I call one match insane?

Susie: I think twenty times is the maximum.

The reaction gets louder and louder as Knight and Pearson fight these two off, the four disappearing into the sea of humanity.

Dollar: Pearson and Knight taking out of this equation via their battle with Brooklyn Smith and “The Maniac” Gary Matt. It seems that we’re down to just three teams at this point…well…2.5.

Mika is in the process of recovering from that devastating full nelson slam, leaning on the ropes to keep her body propped up. She then spots Mr. Hush in a prone condition staggering back to the center of the ring. She then steps in behind Mr. Hush, drops down and delivers a big uppercut right to his testicles. The fans boo in Pavlovian fashion as Mika stands up and sashays across the ring, wearing a big smile on her face. Unaware to her though, the shot to the gonads had absolutely no effect on Mr. Hush, due to years of extensive training in the art of surviving shots to the testicles. Kozlov and Mr. Hush turn at the same time, Mika almost losing her footing at the sight of her unaffected opponent.

She bolts straight at Mr. Hush, with a lariat only to have it ducked, and for her momentum to carry her forward right into the Mephisto Walk. The super kick nails her right to the throat, sending Kozlov falling right back into the clutches of a laid out Mr. Hush. He wedges his feet to the creases of Mika’s knees, and then hooks the arms before bridging her up into the air with the Expiratus Apotheosis. Mika grinds her teeth and occasionally flashes a quarky smile from the pain…well that and the fact that while she’s stretched, her ribs are exposed to repeated tickles from Mr. Hush.

Dollar: Silence and Mr. Hush setting Kozlov up for that Romero Special variation, stretching and….tickling…yes…I just said that…Mika to the point where she may have no other alternative but to tap.

The crowd is starting a ’tap’ chant but that doesn’t happen, thanks to the interference of Montgomery. Lukas rushes in and throws a big roaring elbow into the back of Silence’s head, connecting with the Quieter. The blow knocks Silence into her partner and her opponent, effectively breaking up the submission attempt as a result.

Silence rolls to the center of the ring with Lukas on top, delivering stomps to both her body and to the forehead of Mr. Hush. He then leaps into a knee strike, coming down right on top of Mr. Hush’s masked face before popping up to his seat. He gets a running start and delivers a running knee to the temple of a kneeling Silence

Dollar: Once again the Blacklist takes control.

Mika is back on her feet but quickly leaping off of them into an effective double stomp right to the ribs of the laid out Mr. Hush. She then drops out of the double stomp into a forward roll and flips out of it into the rolling thunder senton, crashing across the kidneys of Silence. She then turns Silence to her back, steps around the foot and establishes the Red Dawn submission hold…her unique rendition of the toe hold submission.

At the same time Montgomery has rolled Mr. Hush over and dropped to his side, establishing the EPICrossface. He pulls back on the jaw until the back of Mr. Hush’s head almost touches his shoulder blades.

Dollar: And now their making the Black Crusade suffer via double submission holds. This is the Blacklist’s MO, they’ll make you suffer any way they can.

Susie: Thank God its through holds and not through forcing us all to listen to Cher.

The submissions seem more designed to inflict punishment rather than elicit tap outs. But the pain persists only so long because an even bigger pain, Whitman is sliding instinctively back into the ring. The X-Class Champion just gets to his feet when he’s spotted by Mika and Montgomery, the two simultaneously breaking their holds. They get to their feet and methodically approach their opponent….slash…victim. Whitman raises his palms into the air once he realizes that he’s been spotted and is being encroached upon.

Whitman: Hold on…need more hand lubricant.

Before he can delay the inevitable, a leaping knee to the jaw delivered by Kozlov, sends the X-Class Champion spiraling into the turnbuckle and falling to his rump. Montgomery then backs up to the center of the ring and slaps his knee, looking to employ his own joint as a weapon. He barrels forward only to have Mr. Hush slide in out of nowhere, catching him around the ankle and hitting a drop toe hold.

Lukas collapses to the canvas and then Mr. Hush steps over his back, grabbing his legs and his arms. Just before Mr. Hush gets whatever it is he’s intent on applying established, he lifts a finger to his lips, resulting in a ’SSSSSHH’ from the crowd. On the outside of the ring, Al Todd-Mariweather at last speaks up, having surprisingly kept out of the antics thus far.

Al: QUIET YOURSELF, YOU BISBEGOTTEN SPAWN OF HELL!

The insult is directed at Montgomery, who is then heaved into the air and placed in the Japanese Fuck Bucket. Lukas grimaces and groans in pain as he’s swung back and forth under the posterior of Mr. Hush. Mika charges in to aid her partner only to have the top of Lukas’ head swung into her stomach, doubling her over. Just as she turns away, she spins towards Silence, who reaches up with her legs, wraps them around the throat of her opponent and pulls Kozlov down into the triangle choke.

Dollar: And now fates have been reversed, Kozlov and Montgomery finding THEMSELVES in the submission holds of Silence and Mr. Hush. The Blacklist couldn’t get the Black Crusade to submit, but can the Black Crusade get the Blacklist to tap?

Susie: A huge break dancing competition would be so much cooler…

Dollar: You’re STILL going on about fucking break dancing?

Susie: Is it so wrong of me to want to see Silence and Mr. Hush settle a feud through a break dance challenge? Is it? IS IT!?!

Dollar: Incredibly so….yes.

The simultaneous submissions remain locked in with Lukas’ head now being swung repeatedly into the bottom turnbuckle pad through this rocking horse variation. Al is cheering on his cohorts from the outside of the ring, but his reaction changes from one of celebration to calamity. He cries out for his brethren to watch out…and for good cause…as over the barricade leaps three individuals.

Dollar: It looks like the Black Crusade are closing in on a…..come on now! What the hell is this?

The fans are stunned at the sight of Porno Lad bolting down the ramp and sliding straight into the ring. Before Silence has a chance to react, she’s spun around and forced to drop Mika.

Al: WATCH YOUR ARSES FOR THAT JACKANAPES BEHIND YOU!

Silence is punched under the jaw, then hit to the opposite side of the face, the Original Prankser just unloading on one member of the Black Crusade. Mr. Hush breaks hius submission in order to interfere but then finds his leg snagged on something….Montgomery holding him in place, refusing to let him go.

Dollar: Now Porno Lad is interfering. He vowed to get his hand son the Black Crusade earlier tonight after he perceived them to intentionally set Katelyn Buehler up for failure. I don’t think that’s the case but Porno Lad believes it nevertheless.

Susie: Plus, you know, he might be a little upset about being hit with Gaunt’s pimp cane last week, and being power bombed on an announce table by Legion.

Dollar: True….or maybe he just came out here to take me up on my offer to be his partner at Upping the Ante and decided now would be a good time to get his hands on the Black Crusade. Two birds…one stone….you get my point.

Silence is too exhausted by the physical assault she’s endured in this match to defend herself against the rested Porno Lad, which explains why the masked messenger is taken over the top rope via the lariat with such ease. Both individuals flip to the outside of the ring and crash across the mats. Eventually they work their way to their feet with Porno Lad still unleashing a vicious tirade of kicks and punches on Silencer, battling her up the ramp and towards the backstage area.

Dollar: Now Silencer has been taken out of the match. She’s leaving Mr. Hush to his own devices…which is a really bad thing for numerous reasons.

The hyperventilating fans watch as Silence and Porno Lad brawl right through the curtains. This whole brawl is not only filmed by IWC cameras, but by the I-Phone clutched in a laid out Mika’s hands, snapping repeated shots of this whole fracas.

Mr. Hush stomps her to the back of the head though, and then grabs her precious I-Phone, squeezing it until it explodes in his hand. He throws down the broken fragments of the phone and then takes Mika by the hair, leading her up to her knees. Just as she gets to a kneeling base, Kozlov is nailed with a slap across the cheek.

Mr. Hush then turns and spots Lukas moving out of the corner and then darts forward and begins drilling him with rapid fire forearms and kicks and chops and head butts, employing every inch of his anatomy to inflict damage. He then turns back towards Mika, who is showing signs of movement, prompting him to to her side, kick her arms back over her chest, and then pantomime the removal of an elbow pad. He tosses the invisible pad into the air, swings his hands back and forth then takes off into the ropes. He ricochets off one set, leaps over Mika then bounces off the opposite set of cables before stutter stepping his way into the people’s elbow.

To a rousing ovation Mr. Hush makes the cover, hooking both of Mika’s legs before….

The feed is disrupted once again…someone hijacking the signal. In a flash the image of scales appear, one side weighed down with a set of toy chattering teeth positioned on tiny feet, moving in rhythmic circles. On the other side of the scale are four eyes, that seem to have been freshly plucked, blood still dribbling from the veins that were crudely ripped out of a skull.

Eye spy with my four little eyes….GUILT…

A roaring fire illuminates the figure seated in a chair so large it could almost be mistaken as a throne. Lady Justice remains stretched across the floor in front of the figure with his side now aimed to the camera. She is curled into a fetal position on the bearskin rug, fingers slowly rubbing the calf of the man who stews in contemplation, knuckles raised to his lips.

You’ve been judged…as has the whole of the Black Crusade…and for your attempts to reduce fear to a tool for comedic effect, you’ve been condemned…..

Mr. Hush and Al are now looking back at the Carteltron which flashes with this unusual imagery of the man known as Ba’al.

No court…no jury…no executioner was needed…for I am the system as a whole…and you are a weight tipping the scales, that needs to be balanced. Your sentence shall be served.

Those same chattering teeth are shown weighing down one side of the scale before the eyes begin to balance things out. The lights then reduce to shadows within the Manhattan Center, but within seconds they return to their original luster and illuminate Al standing outside the ring with plastic wrapped tightly around his nostrils and mouth. He drops to her knees, asphyxiating thanks to the plastic makeshift muzzle.

Dollar: What is this now? Al Todd-Meritweather’s mouth bound and gagged by that plastic wrap! How did Ba’al pull that off so quickly?

Susie: And now he’s targeted the Black Crusade, he put the gag on Al so he could no longer be the voice for the Hush, and it looks like it’s choking the life out of him.

Mr. Hush hurriedly rolls to the outside and tries his best to rip the plastic away from the mouth, or even the nostrils of his verbal conduit. For some reason the plastic just cannot be torn away, and what little has been ripped asunder reveals yet another layer beneath, and another layer and another. Mr. Hush has no other alternative at this point, watching as his associate turns a bright shade of blue. He quickly scoops Al up into his arms and carries him up the ramp to the backstage area where presumably Mr. Gaunt will find a way to accomplish what he couldn’t, the removal of all this plastic.

Dollar: Mr. Hush rushing Al to the back…but that…that means…oh no….

The significance of the Black Crusade’s removal from this match truly begins to sink in, when Whitman III is revealed to be the final opposition against the Blacklist. Mika and Lukas assist one another to their feet and dust their shoulders off before their eyes hone in upon the prone X-Class Champion.

Dollar: Whitman’s alone…he’s all alone against the very individuals that he’s expressed such fear and trepidation at battling.

Susie: Thank God he’s wearing that fire proximity suit over his lower extremities.

Whitman looks one way, then the other at the screaming fans…many of them screaming for the X-Class Champion to leave the ring…which is exactly what he’s about to see. He begins to step through the ropes when he suddenly spots someone seated in the third row, his attention drawn to a clapping Lois Prince, seated right beside Kitty Buehler.

The two watch with Kitty frowning and Lois clapping, quite mystified by all this action she’s witnessed thus far. Whitman tries to hide his grimace behind a grin, bucking up and trying to look tough. So that he doesn’t appear weak in the eyes his potential mate, Whitman rushes across the ring at the still recovering Blacklist. A forearm nails the jaw of Mika, taking her to the canvas while Clarence, grabs the wrist of Montgomery and pulls him into a short arm lariat.

Dollar: Whitman is actually taking it to the Blacklist! He’s standing up for himself tonight, just like he did last week against the security guards who were beating down Legion.

Whitman steps towards a slowly rising Mika and delivers a bionic elbow to the top of her head, taking her back down. Montgomery is up and he receives a bionic elbow as well, knocking him to his knees. The X-Class Champion takes both of his opponents’ by the backs of their heads and then drags them skull first against one another.

Dollar: He’s actually holding his own in there.

Susie: He really should wait until he gets into a bathroom before he does that.

Dollar: Not holding his own…why do I even bother correcting myself when you’re the only one who harbors such impure thoughts.

Whitman is building some confidence as he rushes into the ropes, ricochets off and comes back in at the Blacklist. His double lariat doesn’t meet with nearly the same level of success as Priest’s, because both Mika and Lukas duck the inbound arms simultaneously. And Kozlov even goes as far as to catch one. She swings to Whitman’s side, hooks his leg with her own and then snaps back into the Russian Leg Sweep.

The X-Class Champion and one of his potential challengers hits the canvas just as Lukas bounces off the ropes and dives forward. He comes crashing down back first across the chest of Whitman with a senton splash. He then rolls out of the way as Mika leaps into the air, and comes down with an elbow drop to the center of Whitman’s sternum.

Dollar: All the motivation and persistence in the world couldn’t keep Whitman alive during this brawl for long. He‘s fighting a two on one advantage. And you just know Mika‘s got to be loving this…the more brutality she and Montgomery inflict on Whitman, the worse shape he‘ll be in for a potential X-Class Title match down the line.

Whitman is still fighting back against these impossible odds, rolling to his knees and throwing rights and lefts at anything that gets close, even the referee. But a well placed boot to the temple knocks him to the canvas and keeps him from mounting much of a defense. Lukas then goes in to inflict further punish…

Mika: Wait!

Kozlov stops Lukas before he can do any greater damage.

Mika: It’s time.

Lukas nods and then rolls to the outside of the ring while Mika is busy whipping her I-Phone out and filming the writhing Whitman.

Mika: You were right to be so worried, little man.

Apparently Whitman and the Black Crusade weren’t the only ones who put props under the ring pre-match, because now Lukas has retrieved a bottle of alcohol from beneath the squared circle. He then rolls in, screws off the lid and begins to douse Whitman’s body in it.

Mika: Don’t worry…apparently he’s a man who quite enjoys a stiff drink.

The alcohol washes over Whitman’s head and drops down his chin and body, thoroughly saturating him.

Dollar: They said they were going to do it…they vowed that someone would go up in flames tonight…and apparently that someone is the very man who expressed such fear about being burned by the Blacklist since day one…P Clarence Whitman III.

Susie: Goodbye Whitman, we barely knew thee.

Dollar: This is not funny, Susie…even I can’t condone what we’re about to see right now.

Referee Michelle Blacker couldn’t be any happier, saliva almost dripping from the corners of her mouth as she watches Whitman try feebly to get to his feet only to be hit over the back of the head with a forearm by Kozlov.

Mika: Stay down….and enjoy our nice little bonfire….

Lukas extracts a lighter and flicks it open, holding it over the body of Whitman, bringing it down dangerous close to his flesh.

Montgomery: Did anyone bring some Smores?

A smile stretches across Mika’s face as she watches this whole massacre unfold via the screen of her cellular phone. The flame comes down towards the X-Class Champion when the crowd unleashes an ovation that threatens to rip the roof from the Manhattan Center. The reason the fans have become so enthused, to the point where property damage ensues…well…one need not look much further than the figure barreling down the ramp. Though she still wears a protective bandage over the dozens upon dozens of stitches embedded in her scalp and other areas of the body, Rose Savior slides into the ring across her stomach

Dollar: ROSE SAVIOR….the former World Heavyweight Champion! Where did she…how did she….

Susie: Why must you stutter through every expression of shock?

Dollar: Cause I sound more surprised that way. And wouldn’t anyone be stunned by this? Rose Savior is here, and she’s going right after the Blacklist, the very group that was instrumental in her loss of the World Championship.

Mika looks up just a second too late…spotting not Rose, but Savior’s boot ramming directly into her face via the Scarlet Thorn.

Dollar: And that kick has just taken Mika’s chin off.

Susie: I had to pay a lot of money to have my chin taken off.

The moment Mika goes down, Lukas goes up, pouncing at Rose only to be caught with a devastating diamond cutter. The Black Rose connects and sends Montgomery flopping across the ring, grabbing at his cracked cranium.

Dollar: And then the Black Rose on Lukas…Rose is so fired up….so motivated…so angst ridden after what these people did to her last week.

The veteran instincts of Kozlov carried her to the outside, where she now stands up with the aid of the apron. But there is no distance great enough to put between herself and Rose, who is launching herself over the top rope into a big cross body. She crashes right into a stunned Kozlov’s chest, knocking both ladies to the mats. She then rears back her knuckles, drives them into Mika’s forehead, and then does it again, and again and again!

Dollar: Rose is just beating the holy hell out of the Blacklist! I’ve never seen her so amped.

Susie: She probably drank like a whole gallon of Mountain Dew before the show started.

Kozlov finally gets her hands into Rose’s eyes, raking them and forcing the former World Champion to roll away. Mika then climbs back to her feet and puts some distance between herself and the woman she helped screw out of the gold. But then she turns and realizes that she didn’t do nearly enough damage to douse the flames of hatred burning like a nuclear hazard within Rose, who closes the distance between herself and Mika via the running STO. The back of Mika’s skull connects with the mats and she curls into the fetal position as a result.

Meanwhile, inside of the ring, the X-Class Champion is falling into the ropes, leaning on them for support. On wobbly knees he turns his attention to the recovering Lukas, stepping in to throw a right hand only to have Montgomery drive the top of his skull into the inbound champ’s stomach. Whitman doubles over, grabbing at his gut while Lukas takes off into the ropes behind him.

He is just about to bounce off and deliver the Quieter to the back of his opponent’s prone skull when Rose reaches under the ropes, grabs him by the ankles and prevents him from delivering the knock-out shot. Lukas is staggered but eventually turns around, stomping down at Rose’s hands only to have her pull them back at the last second. She then leaps to the apron, jumps into the air, catches the back of Montgomery’s head, before snapping his throat off the top rope.

Lukas’ head pops back and he stumbles into the clutches of Whitman, who rolls him up from behind into the backslide. The whole building is on its feet going nuts as Michelle makes the three count for the alcohol soaked and badly banged up X-Class Champion.

1

2

3!

There is an ovation of epic proportions when Blacker’s hand connects for the third and final time against the canvas…Whitman…of all people…scoring a victory over the group that has terrorized the IWC tonight.

Dollar: Whitman scores the pin! PCW3 has just pinned the Blacklist! That is bigger than a surgically enhanced tit.

Susie: Bigger than huge….it’s hugemunga!

Dollar: This has to be one of the most shocking things we’ve ever seen. First it looked like Whitman was going to be burned alive, but then…then Rose comes out of nowhere…..

Lukas rolls away from the pin, looking stunned that his shoulders were forced to the canvas by the X-Class Champion. In a rage Lukas looks to beat down the victor, showing that to the victors the spoils do not necessarily go. But before he can get his hands on Whitman, a big spear to the ribs takes him down. Rose rushes across the ring and delivers a spear with enough force to lift Lukas off of his feet. The vengeful former World Champion then gets to her knees and is about to dig her claws into Lukas’ eyes, before he’s dragged to the outside of the ring by his ankle, Mika pulling him from harm’s way.

Dollar: And Rose takes out the Blacklist…AGAIN…I don’t know if they realize what they’ve gotten themselves into regarding the targeting of Rose. They may have at last bit off more than they can chew. There’s only one way to describe everything we just saw in this match…and I think you know what adjective I’ll be using….

Susie: If I knew what an adjective was maybe I would know what word you’re going to use.

Dollar: Insanity…that’s what this was…pure unadulterated insanity too hard for words to even describe…

REPLAY

The many twists and turns in this four corners tag tornado are relived. There are images of Kathryn Pearson summoning Yvonne Knight to stand at her side, before cutting to Whitman and Wino-Jack embarking towards the ring.

Dollar: Things started off insane enough…when this six person tag was changed to a Four Corners Tornado Tag…after Whitman and Pearson refused to team alongside their respective partners. While Whitman was saddled up with potentially the first person he saw, Pearson made a call to her mentor, Yvonne Knight, who made her shocking debut here in the IWC.

Knight and Pearson are shown brawling with the Blacklist, before the replay cuts to Wino-Jack being taken out of the equation before he could even play much of a pivotal role. He’s dumped via the super cradle piledriver through the tea table by Montgomery and Kozlov.

Dollar: Then Jack was taken out by the Blacklist, leaving Whitman partner less…but things got even crazier when “Maniac” Gary Matt, and Brooklyn Smith showed up out of nowhere and tried to lay to waste everyone participating in this match.

Matt and Smith are shown hitting leg drops and full nelsons before Knight and Pearson battle them into the crowd. It then cuts to the End Effect sliding into the ring and pouncing off the Black Crusade.

Dollar: But Matt and Smith wouldn’t be the last ones to interfere because here came Porno Lad, pouncing on the Black Crusade.

The destruction of Porno Lad is showcased before the video then highlights the Blacklist on the verge of lighting Whitman ablaze. Just before they can, Rose Savior interferes, hitting all of her trademark moves to inflict brutality on the duo who left her for dead and cost her the World Championship.

Dollar: And then, in the final hour, salvation for Whitman comes in the form of Rose Savior, who turned back the tide of the Blacklist and fought them off….leading to a sight none of us thought we’d ever see…

Rose snaps the throat of Montgomery off the top rope, leading him to be rolled up from behind by Whitman, the X-Class Champion picking up the biggest win of his career thus far.

The recaps are over and Whitman stands triumphantly in the ring. He holds his ribs and doubles over as the X-Class Championship is back home upon his shoulder. He lifts a fist into the air while stepping up to the middle rope, and then goes as far as to point down at Lois, who is giving him a just deserved standing ovation. All the while Rose Savior is marching like a caged animal eyeing her prey from between the bars of her cell, gazing upon the Blacklist as they back up the ramp and…in spite of their loss…actually seem to be grinning.

Dollar: Whitman wins tonight to send us all home happy. I don’t think anyone…ANYONE in their right mind thought he would do it…but Clarence is the victor…and Rose Savior has just begun her pursuit for vindication.

Whitman kisses his X-Class Title and then blows a kiss to Lois who leaps into the air and acts like she catches it. She then shuffles it around behind her back and makes a no look pass back to Whitman, who acts as if he’s swooning, almost collapsing off the turnbuckle in the process.

Dollar: Everyone jockeying for positioning as we find ourselves drawing ever so much slower to Upping the Ante, where Whitman will go to war with the Blacklist yet again, and on that night he’ll be FORCED to team with the Black Crusade’s representative, Legion. Plus we’ve found out Taylor Chase will defend the World Title against Aaron Harrison with her hands shackled behind her back and under NO DQ rules…and we’ve found out so much more…You’re not going to want to miss anything else on our road to Upping the Ante…I think tonight has just proved that.

The celebration continues, but that feel good vibe couldn’t last forever.

The actions in the ring transition to the antics within the halls of the SCW HQ, the focal point being the office of the Board of Directors where Desmond Drake sits under metaphorical heat lamp. Sasha D is right in the midst of verbal tirade as she paces around the oval shaped table Desmond is seated at the end of it.

Sasha: Desmond…we appreciate you coming here tonight, and standing up for Orlando…

Drake: It was the right thing to do.

Clearly Sasha doesn’t agree, but carries on without fail.

Sasha: But I’m afraid you may have dug him into a deeper grave here…

A sad twinkle appears in Desmond’s eye as his head lowers.

Sasha: You have a funny way of trying to defend Orlando…Desmond…bringing to light his many failures since the reopening of the IWC…even many the Board were unaware of. Such as personally delivering the results of Jackson Adams’ head CT, plus the video of him being arrested for a second time last week on Riot!

Drake: I’m sure he had a good reason for it…Does it count for nothing that the man is IWC through and through, that he is as fiercely loyal to the IWC….

Suddenly Sasha’s phone begins to ring and vibrate.

Tomlinson: Is it Olek?

She takes the phone off the table, no longer bothering to put it back in her pocket given how many text messages she’s received throughout the night.

Sasha: No…someone is still sending me photos from Riot!…..Oh jeez…you probably don’t want to do know what I’m looking at right now.

The Board members inch closer to the table as she turns her phone for everyone to get a glimpse of P. Clarence Whitman III being doused with alcohol while a lighter is held above his head by the Blacklist.

Sasha: How do you explain this? Desmond?

She gives him a close up view of the image from the opposite side of the table.

Drake: Well…you know Orlando’s got a lot on his plate at the moment….what with booking himself in that tag match next week and inserting himself into the World Title picture….

Sasha: We really didn’t need you reminding us about the President of a wrestling company making challenges to his roster.

Drake: I mean…if I were there I’d gladly take some of the burden off his shoulders again, by being the man who takes a stand against the Blacklist, just like I did at Awakening.

Tomlinson: Yes, you seem to be the only man willing to handle them without the need to instigate further violence inside the ring.

Sasha: Which makes our decision all that much easier.

Drake: Can’t you guys just give Orlando the benefit of the doubt, just this once? I’m sure there was a reason he beat Rose Savior half to death, and forced Christian to wrestle in handcuffs, and is making all these crazy challenges, and is showing a completely inability to keep Riot! From exploding into chaos, like it has tonight. Give him time, and I’m sure he can offer an explanation….

Sasha: That time is up. We’re through waiting for him to reign in the Blacklist and the rest of the roster. Judging by all these pictures and videos I’ve received throughout the night, Orlando is just incapable of keeping this company under control…and he actually creates more chaos and carnage than he contains.

Drake: Only because I haven’t been there these past two weeks to carry some of the load.

Sasha: Yes, because unlike Orlando, you are capable of following orders. And we like a man who can follow orders. A man who doesn’t blow off meetings with his Board of Directors.

Drake: Again, I’m sure Orlando had his….

Tomlinson: We no longer care what his motivations are. The state of unrest he’s created in the IWC is too much for us to overlook anymore.

Sasha: Especially when someone has been rubbing our noses in it all night long.

She pushes the cell-phone to the center of the table.

Tomlinson: Wonder how they got your number.

Sasha: Doesn’t matter…what we need to concentrate on right now is the emergency vote we must hold.

Tomlinson: Shouldn’t we wait for your Father before we make such a decision?

Sasha: Actually it works out to our benefit that he’s not here tonight. We all know he can be equally as impetuous as Cruze, and that he’d be adamant that he can run both SCW AND IWC, which we all know is an impossibility. Plus I haven’t been able to get him on his cell-phone all night long. So we’ll just say that my Father abstains from voting….on the naming of a new IWC President.

The numerous Board members nod.

Sasha: And, because Desmond has first hand experience in the trenches, sort of speak, and the IWC only seems to be in such chaos whenever he’s away from the show….I nominate him to replace Orlando.

Tomlinson: I second the nomination.

Sasha: Then I say we put it to a vote amongst the rest of the Board…though…it seems to be a formality in my opinion…congratulations Desmond.

Drake’s head remains lowered, not wanting the Board to see the giant smile that has formed on his face. Everything going exactly to plan.

FADE TO BLACK

Riot! 4

In a flash we get a brief look at the IWC emblem while a number of IWC combatants appear in the background, past, present and perhaps future. Running the gamut from Daemon Frost, Chapel, Nathan Creed, to Johnny Kingdom, Robin Brooks, Silencer, before wrapping up with Frankie Paradise, Taylor Chase, Rose Savior and an eerie red hue surrounding Legion.

We’re streaming Cowboy… Leave her alone and get over here.

The images are blurry, as if being filmed not by the thousands and thousands of dollars worth of equipment at IWC‘s disposal, but a cell-phone. A phone clutched in the palm of Mika Kozlov, the amateur cinematographer slash professional psychopath.

Mika: Come on comrades, she’s had enough.

Kozlov is cast in an unfamiliar role, unaccustomed to calling off the dogs. She has to yank the chain though, drawing Aaron Harrison and Lukas Montgomery to her sides. A small handkerchief swipes a red substance from Harrison’s knuckles while Lukas removes what appears to be a thing of blue latex gloves. The lighting isn’t the best, making it incredibly difficult to discern their location.

Mika: Privyet boys and girls….probably weren’t expecting to see us so soon.

Harrison: Yes, my Mika, I think they were expecting the antics of some dwarf on a power kick, and a President desperately clutching to the illusion that he has power.

Mika: Awww, I’m so sorry to ruin your fun admirateurs…but I guess your stuck with us.

Montgomery: Could be worse. They could be stuck with those two idiots they saw open the show last week, that painted whore…and Taylor Chase too.

Mika: Zatknis, Lukas. Cowboy has something to say.

Before Aaron can finish speaking he puts the handkerchief, smeared with that red substance, directly into his pocket.

Harrison: We decided to forgo the routines around here…What with waiting around for some puppet toting buffoon, or an alcoholic womanizer, to interview us….

Lukas: We’re just so excited, and we can’t hide it.

Mika: Mums it…

A finger is wedged to Lukas’ mouth to shut him up.

Harrison:…What we have to say can’t wait. I got one tremendous weight off me already…

He pats his shoulder, where the World Heavyweight Title SHOULD be.

Harrison:…Time to get something else off my chest that’s been plaguing me. I’m horribly….TERRIBLY disappointed.

Mika rubs the back of his head to soothe the savage beast.

Harrison:…in myself.

The hand stops stroking and claws dig into the back of Aaron’s neck, Mika and Lukas reacting with surprise to this comment.

Harrison: I should have known better than to question the morals of the powers that hog screen-time around these parts. It appears that Orlando Cruze was quicker to respond to my proposition than I thought. You people need to read that little warning on the bottom of your show programs, which states ’CARD SUBJECT TO CHANGE,’ because although the marquee says, Rose Savior versus TAYLOR CHASE, one on one for the World Heavyweight Title….there’s going to be just a slight amendment made…It’s going to be AARON HARRISON versus Rose Savior for the title tonight….

Lukas: Has a better ring to it.

Harrison:…It’s the only way it can be, cause I know that Orlando Cruze, or Desmond Drake, whomever is running tonight’s telecast, would think better of calling my bluff. I’ve never been entirely honest, but no one should challenge my sincerity, at least not when it comes to matters in which I have a strong personal belief.

Lukas: This is the IWC though, Aaron, they think they’ve had our number time and time again.

Harrison: I guess you have a point there….Which is why I‘ve taken steps to make sure Orlando couldn‘t go through with some type of ambush in a shameful attempt to steal the World Title away from me.

He sneers, realizing the hypocrisy behind his statement, considering that he was the one who commandeered the title last week…becoming a thief stealing from a thief.

Harrison: So I decided not to bring the World Heavyweight Title with me this evening, and instead have left it somewhere Orlando and his gaggle of goons would never think to look. It’s hidden away until Orlando shows up here personally tonight, STRIPS Chase of her World Title shot and subs me into her spot against Rose.

The whole card is laid out on the table…but wait…there’s always an extra ace tucked under sleeve.

Harrison: If anyone out there thought things would go differently this evening, you’ll be a little disappointed. I’m going to take a page right out of Tay-Tay’s rose scented diary, and announce that Orlando WILL be here this evening, meeting or no meeting with the Board of Directors…and he WILL sign this…

A contract is removed from his pocket, unfolding it.

Harrison: A contract guaranteeing us all the match we’ve truly been waiting to see. A match that will finally answer the question of what means more to Orlando, title or love. And he will sign, he’s got no other option…not if he wants to get back what means more to him than anything in the world…

Lukas: The title?

Harrison: Maybe…or maybe this?

An almost giddy Mika turns to direct the phone towards the blood soaked body lying on the concrete just a few inches away. Though her face cannot be seen under several pints of blood, there is no mistaking Taylor Chase’s impeccable taste in attire and the tell-tale dragon tattoo stenciled into her spine.

Before the fans can truly examine the mutilation that has been done to Tay-Tay, the phone turns back to the faces of Montgomery, Kozlov and Harrison. Lukas seems to be the only one trying to stifle his grin.

Harrison: Sorry Tay-Tay.

Mika: Nothing personal, Sis.

Harrison: But what Lukas does next, that WILL be personal.

From his pocket that same flashlight with the taser mounted on the butt end is forked over to Montgomery. Along with the folded up contract Harrison eluded to moments ago, the very contract that guarantees Harrison the match he wants more than anything else on the planet.

Harrison: Lukas, do your thing.

Montgomery: Can’t wait…see ya in the ring Xander.

The trio is shortened to a duo as Lukas waltzes away, taser in hand, ready to go to war with Cassius. Harrison and Mika turn back to the phone in Kozlov’s clutches.

Harrison: And you should be expecting to see me too, Rose, very shortly. But ummm, doesn‘t look like anyone is going to be seeing Tay-Tay any time soon, because just like the World Heavyweight Title, we‘ve left her in the last place anyone would think to look. And if xomeone decides to interfere with our plans this evening, the World Title, will end up looking far worse than she does…

Gestures are made to the laid out Chase.

Harrison: So sit back, relax, and watch the Blacklist get one step closer to acquiring the match I‘ve been asking for since day one…a one on one fight, between myself, and this company‘s true monster, Orlando Cruze.

The phone switches off in the midst of a kiss between Kozlov and Harrison.

No pyrotechnics, no razzle-dazzle, no shameless hype, we’re jumping right into it tonight folks. The normal pre-show preludes are replaced by the immediate arrival of Xander Cassius. ‘Hero’ by Skillet usher forth Cassius, who hops in place on the stage with Arthur Magnus towering behind him. Mangler and Manager head towards the ring, stepping right past a ladder that is sat up on the ramp way. There is more than one actually, a ladder erected on every side of the ring.

Dollar: We hit the airwaves with another blockbuster…my spotlight stealing bicuspids….Plus, what we just saw to open our telecast. It wasn’t our normal video package, instead we just got the most cryptic piece of footage I think I’ve ever seen.

Susie: That was worse than watching Troll 2.

Dollar: I’m still….I’m still….I’m still in shock here people. The Blacklist have laid out Taylor Chase backstage…they just busted her wide open.

Susie: I hope there are no sharks backstage, that could be really bad for Tay-Tay if they smell her blood.

Dollar: This is NOT how I thought we’d be opening the show tonight. Taylor Chase was scheduled to face Rose Savior for the World Title in our main event. How is that even gonna happen now that she’s been….MUTILATED backstage? Who knows what the Blacklist did to her.

Once in the ring Cassius occupies a corner, leaning over the ropes ear first into the cupped hands of Magnus, who seems to be whispering encouraging phrases his client.

Dollar: It looks like Cassius here is going to take the fight back to the Blacklist. Those bastards deserve what Xander gives them. Which could and SHOULD be a taste of their own sour medicine, if Xander can get his hands on the taser that will be hanging above the ring. Whomever climbs a ladder and pulls it down, will have free reign to use it on their…WAIT A MINUTE!

Xander is so busy discussing strategy with Magnus, that neither man notices Montgomery already sliding into the ring and pouncing on Cassius with the taser. It seems the fans will be forced to relive the ghastly scene that played out last week when Montgomery got the drop on Dwayne before power bombing him from the edge of the stage. But that’s NOT what happens this time, cause Xander turns just in time to bend down and catch the inbound Montgomery by the crease of his knee, dragging his leg right out from under him.

Before Lukas has a chance to react he’s twisted to his stomach and placed in the ankle lock, dropping the taser at the feet of referee Johnson.

Dollar: The Blacklist trying to get the drop on ANOTHER athlete, just like they did to Tay-Tay before the show could even start, and to Dwayne last week. But this time the guerrilla warfare didn’t go as planned. Xander with eyes in the back of his head…

Susie: Sounds like a serious medical condition.

Dollar: Plus he’s got an ankle in his arms, he might just rip Lukas’ foot off the rest of his body.

Montgomery masks his pain by engulfing his face with his palm, the other lifting into the air for the submission.. He balls up his fist and watches in agony as Johnson picks up the taser and places it on the hook that has now been lowered to the center of the ring. The taser rises back towards the scaffolding, putting the weapon precisely where it should be.

Lukas is not in the position where he should be, instead of standing over Xander’s flailing body, he’s on his chest, desperately trying to ward off submission to the ankle lock. At last Lukas turns to his back, wedges feet to Cassius’ chest and shoves him off into the turnbuckle. The MMA based brawler hit’s the corner, arms falling over the ropes while Lukas wisely rolls to the outside.

Dollar: Damn, Montgomery got out of the ankle lock. NOT cool.

Lukas staggers only a moment or two, trying to shake off the effects of the damage done to his ankle. A ladder that was was set up beside the ring is grabbed, Montgomery equal parts leaning against and dragging it towards the squared circle.

Dollar: Several ladders set up on all sides of the ring for this match, and we’re seeing one brought into the gold already. Hopefully not to Xander’s detriment, after he went spilling off one at Awakening.

Susie: I spilled off the top of a ladder a couple of times, and nothing happened to me.

Dollar: Erm…might want to rephrase that.

Xander doesn’t let Lukas get very far with the ladder, storming across the ring and then reaching through the ropes. Claws are dug into every orifice on the Blacklist member’s face, his eyes, nostrils, even ears. A disgruntled Cassius turns his opponent’s head into a bowling ball, trying to fit his fingers right into the eye sockets as he drags him towards the ring. That’s when Lukas pulls back on the ladder, yanking the steel leg right into the top of Cassius’ head.

Xander collapses to the canvas, clutching at his skull as he twists to the middle of the ring. He struggles to reach his feet while Lukas has a hard time remaining on his own, ankle still persistently nagging him. The ladder is sat on the apron and Montgomery tries to enter the ring only to have Xander surprise him with a baseball slide dropkick into the ladder.

A second before the steel can crush his chest, Lukas lifts the ladder into the air, allowing Xander to slide right under it and land on his feet beside him. Montgomery then swings the ladder around right into Cassius, but he ducks moments before it could cave his skull in.

Lukas twirls around completely, ladder stretched over his chest, eyes burning a hole into Xander. That burning sensation transitions to his chest when Xander leaps to the apron and then springs off into a missile dropkick to the rungs of the ladder. The steel is driven into Lukas’ chest, bouncing off his body and sending it twisting into the barricade. He falls right over the steel into the crowd, where the fans clear a gaping hole for the mangled Montgomery.

Dollar: Xander showed some of these skills at Awakening, he’s becoming a hybrid of MMA strikes and submissions, mixed with some high flying…speaking of which.

The ladder that bounced off of Lukas’ chest is now raised into the air, Cassius setting it up on the mats. The rungs are quickly climbed as he nears the top.

Dollar: Xander climbing the ladder outside of the ring.

Susie: He might have a hard time reaching the title from there, unless he’s got those super Stretch Armstrong arms.

Dollar: I think he has other ideas in mind.

Xander stands up on top of the ladder and then does a quick crucifix gesture across his chest before diving off right into a big splash on Montgomery in the crowd. Lukas has just gotten to his feet when Xander collides with his shoulder, both men spilling to the hard concrete amongst a massive uproar.

Fans: HOLY SHIT…HOLY SHIT!

Dollar: Holy snikies, WHAT-A-DIVE!

Susise: Xander should wear some green leotards and totally sprinkle magic glitter all over himself.

The fans clear the area just in time to avoid being caught in the middle of the dive. All eyes intently watch with rabid excitement as Cassius drags Montgomery to his feet, continuing to channel his frustrations on one third of the Blacklist. He takes him by the wrist and whips him directly into the barricade, but Lukas springs into the air, landing on the top of the barrier then leaping off onto the ladder that Xander just dove off of. He climbs a few rungs and then back flips right over the barricade into Cassius, resulting in another loud pop.

Dollar: What the hell?

Susie: Amazing! Lukas should wear some green leotards and totally sprinkle magic glitter….

Dollar: Yeah, yeah, Peter Pan references….yadda…yadda…yadda.

Lukas rolls away from Cassius then grabs a steel chair, prying it out from under a particularly heavy set fan. He then turns, lifts the chair above his head and drives it down on Xander’s skull, sandwiching it between steel and concrete. That was his intention at least, as Cassius sat up just moments before the steel could obliterate his head.

Shockwaves course through Lukas’ hands, causing him to drop the chair and turn his back on Xander, who is busy crawling towards the barrier. Lukas turns back around, looking fed up already. He builds a great bit of speed while charging at Xander, who stands and side steps the headstrong member of the Blacklist, pushing him right along into the barrier.

Lukas leaps into the air, lands on the barricade and then springs off right onto the ladder, landing on the rungs like he did moments ago. But then Xander jumps over the barricade himself before another moonsault could connect. He grabs Lukas’ ankle and yanks on it, causing Montgomery to turn around in a dire attempt to fight him off. That’s when Cassius grabs his chest and stomach, throwing him off the ladder with a gorilla press variant and that sends Montgomery crashing down right on top of the edge of the barricade.

Dollar: Lukas hitting that barricade with the type of impact that could cave his chest in.

Susie: Montgomery should get implants, they could totally cushion the fall.

The sore sternum of Montgomery turns just as Xander delivers the type of knife edge chop that could crack his chest. Xander turns away and then spins back towards Cassius, who nails a second knife edge chop with equally as devastating results.

Montgomery turns and falls back first against the ladder, which is the only thing that holds him upright. Xander falls into the apron, and would normally roll in to break an official’s count but given that this bout is contested under no disqualification rules, he has the luxury of remaining outside the ring as long as he wants.

He then approaches Montgomery and nails a big roundhouse kick to the same bruised sternum,, almost bring Lukas down, but somehow he remains upright just long to be subjected to yet another shot. The swelled chest becomes even more inflamed after this big kick, a kick that could cause him to crap his heart out. Xander isn’t through victimizing one third of the group that has caused such chaos, in both the IWC and his life. Xander steps into a third kick that Lukas suddenly ducks down out of the way of, causing Cassius to kick the ladder instead.

He calls out in pain, his shin almost imploding upon impact with the steel rungs. He grabs at his possible fractured tibia, but shakes off the effects before throwing a big punch at Lukas’ face. Montgomery steps out of the way and causes his opponent’s fist to go sailing through the rungs of the ladder.. He now finds himself in a very unenviable spot, arm trapped in the rungs of the ladder, shoulder taking some punishment as it collides with one of the struts.

In this predicament he has no idea that Lukas has taken to the apron and is running across it before at last diving off into a big dropkick right between the shoulder blades of Xander, driving him into the ladder.

Dollar: Come on Cassius…that ladder is working to his detriment.

Susie: We’ve seen what those mischievous ladders can do, like totally turning against Axl Evermore a few years ago to cost him the Cartel Championship.

Dollar: Why do you remember things that happen years ago, but can’t even recall what happened last week?

Susie: I remember exactly what happened last week. I got to watch an entire episode of Santa with Muscles.

The ladder falls over as Xander tumbles into it. When the two hit the mats Cassius still finds his arm trapped in the rungs, but now sandwiched in the middle, the ladder closing around his bicep and forearm. Lukas realizes this and quickly rushes in, leaping into the air before delivering a devastating double stomp directly into the ladder rungs. Cassius’ arm is completely squished, possibly shattering the radial bone.

Susie: And the ladder just broke Xander’s arm.

Dollar: Very real possibility.

Sluggishly Cassius gets to his feet, groping his arm when Lukas swoops in behind him, taking his arm, folding it behind his back and then utilizing his shoulder to wedge it in place. He heaves Cassius up into a suplex position and then drops back, planting Cassius’ arm into the laid out ladder with a back drop suplex upon it.

Dollar: The arm just completely taken out…which…as ashamed as I am to admit it, will make it impossible for him to climb that ladder and reach the taser.

Montgomery grabs Cassius by the hair, leading him up to his feet where his arm is placed in another hammerlock. He’s then charged at the steel turnbuckle post and slammed against it rotator cuff and clavicle first. Montgomery slides the ladder in and then enters himself, having vanquished Cassius…or so he thinks.

Much like a certain Marvel superhero, Lukas possesses uncanny recuperative capabilities, sitting up and holding his swollen muscles while Magnus steps in, offering….insults? Yes, he employs the art of reverse psychology in order to fire Xander up.

Cassius continues to squeeze the swelling in his shoulder and forearm, trying to get back up and into this match. But thus far all he can do is watch as Lukas sets up the ladder just beneath the taser and begins to scale it.

Susie: Uh-oh, I’m scared for Lukas already, he’s getting up way to high. I’m gonna throw up.

Dollar: You do that after every meal anyway, so what’s it matter?

Lukas is feeling the ill effects of the physicality that’s been unleashed upon him thus far, which hinders his upward momentum. The taser sways above the ring as Lukas reaches up for it. Out of nowhere his ankle is caught in the clutches of Cassius, albeit via one arm. He stands up still gripping the leg and trying his best to use it in order to pull his opponent down to the canvas. However, the equally as desperate Montgomery stomps down right into his shoulder, forcing the MMA specialist to break the hold.

He then turns around and bends down, trapping Xander’s head in a front chancery. To the dismay and horror of many, Lukas leaps off the ladder, going for the tornado DDT. Just before Xander’s head could be caved in against the canvas, he avails himself of the predicament, shoving Lukas off in mid-air. Somehow Lukas lands on his feet but then twirls into the turnbuckle, falling against it for support.

Xander then comes rushing in only to have his shoulder blasted by a big kick from Lukas, knocking him back and giving Montgomery a chance.

He then comes rushing out of the corner to take advantage of the shaken Xander only to be surprised as he’s caught by the back of the head and thrown, not into the ladder, but through it. Lukas actually finds himself suspended above the ring, stretched over the hinges running between both set of ladder legs. Lukas looks a tad shaken up himself, but his confusion is made a thousand times worse when Xander steps in, grabs his prone opponent by the back of the head and begins delivering kick after kick after kick right to his exposed face.

With Lukas trapped in the middle of the ladder he has absolutely no defenses whatsoever to this onslaught from the MMA badass. Xander takes off into the ropes, who doesn’t settle with a mere series of kicks, running into the ropes, ricocheting off then leaping into a big knee strike that nails Lukas right in the temple.

Dollar: There ya go, Xander, indulge those homicidal impulses…wear him out….wear him out GOOD!

Susie: He’s beating him like I did my little brother after eating an entire bag of sugar for breakfast. Until I learned that I don’t even have a little brother.

Lukas hangs limp as a noodle over the ladder hinges, drool seeping from the corner of his mouth. It becomes evident that his opponent is totally unconscious, and Xander would probably have the pin…if that’s what he wanted…but it isn’t….payback is what he’s after, and there would be no more fitting retribution that taking the taser to his trapped opponent.

With Lukas stuck in the ladder, he’s unable to stop Xander scaling the rungs off to his side, getting closer and closer to the taser.

Susie: He’s going after the taser and ladder is helping him. Giving him just the unfair advantage that he needs.

Dollar: Get the taser, pull it down and get some payback for Tay-Tay. The Blacklist have cost her the World Title tonight, now Lukas his career.

Cassius is almost at the top of the ladder, reaching up for the taser when Lukas twists his body just enough to lie across the hinges back firs. This position allows him to reach through the rungs and grab at Xander’s leg, trying to pry it out from under him.

An aggravated Xander is having none of this, beginning to deliver buzz saw kicks around the side of the ladder into the upper back of Montgomery, who remains seated on the hinges running between the steel struts. One kick after another slams against Montgomery’s upper back before Xander takes his opponent by the hair and drives him face first against the steel. He then pulls back and does it again, but this time Lukas blocks having his head obliterated by the collision, and does so by yanking Xander’s hand away from his hair, and then shoving his forearm directly into the side of the ladder.

His arm bounces viciously off the ladder, causing Xander to cry out in pain, doubling him over and putting him in a bad spot. Lukas turns so that he’s actually seated on one of the very strong ladder arms, kicking Cassius right in the shoulder, knocking him off of the ladder. Casiuss tumbles from almost the top of the ladder and collides with the canvas to back breaking impact.

Dollar: Oh no, Xander’s arm not only banged up by the ladder but then he falls off and takes an equal amount of damage to his back. But worse yet, Lukas is positioned in a very good spot to reach that taser, at least if he hurries.

Lukas twists his body and slips around the side of the ladder legs, finally putting himself onto the rungs. He stands up and begins to scale one rung after another in his upward ascension to the taser. His twiddling fingers grab hold of the weapon that has been so instrumental in the Blacklist’s reign of anarchy. From the hook the taser is taken down, Lukas having it totally at his disposal yet again.

Dollar: Oh crap on a kitten…this is not good for Xander at all. Lukas has got that taser and he’s proven to be an expert with it.

Susie: Just dawned on me. You know what would have made this awesome…like wicked awesome. If there were poles. The taser should have totally been on a pole.

Dollar: Thank you, Mrs. Russo.

Susie: I’m not even Italian…though I am suddenly craving spaghetti.

The taser is activated, sending blue shocks dispersing through the air as a smiling Lukas raises the weapon above his head. He’s seemingly on the verge of employing the weapon when he’s suddenly grabbed by the hips and yanked down off the ladder into a power bomb by…not Cassius…but Dwayne Rodriquez.

Dollar: Rodriquez to the rescue. He just took out Montgomery with a power bomb right off the ladder!

Susie: Someone probably stepped on a crack, which has broke his back. Or does that only work on Momma’s?

Dollar: Somebody had better call Lukas’ Momma after that power bomb! Dwayne taking advantage of the no disqualification rules.

The whole ring shakes after the lethal power bomb, which may have transformed all of his bones into pudding. Everyone is on their feet, save for Montgomery, as Dwayne towers over his Blacklist adversary, shouting down at him a string of foul words rubbing a pound of salt in the wounds. Before Dwayne can add a few more wounds to dump salt in, his attention turns to the intervening Aaron Harrison and Mika Kozlov.

Dollar: Ah crap on a cracker…here comes the rest of the Blacklist!

Susie: What is it with you and bodily secretions on multiple objects?

Dollar: What’s with your own foul bodily secretions, namely the ones emanating from your mouth?

The crowd sounds downright bipolar, shifting from cheers to boos to cheers again when Dwayne leaps through the ropes to the apron before diving off into a stereo lariat to the throats of both Blacklist interlopers. All three individuals hit the mats but Dwayne is back on his feet in a hurry and launching a series of haymakers into anything that moves. First it’s Mika, then it’s Harrison, then Mika again, then Harrison again. The fans are stunned that the fast striking, quick talking Dwayne is holding his own against this destructive duo, brawling with them right to the backstage area.

Dollar: Dwayne is fighting off the Blacklist, leaving this match one on one. He’s stemmed the tide of chaos.

Dwayne lobs a knee into Aaron’s chest, doubling him over, taking him by the back of the head and throwing him face first into one of the steel support beams holding up the Cartel-tron. Skull bounces off steel and he now goes twirling through the curtains. Mika then jumps on Dwayne’s back from behind, throwing punch after punch into the side of his skull. Rodriquez is now the one twirling, trying to pry Mika off his back as they spill into parts unseen, the guerrilla position.

Xander is slowly pulling himself up with the use of the metal ladder and one arm. At last he gets to his feet just as Lukas gets a knee beneath him. Xander twists his body, jumping up to nearly the half way point of the ladder then leaps off into a back heel kick that nails Lukas under the jaw.

Montgomery is sent into the ropes, spilling through them to the apron. Every inch of Montgomery is hurting but he’s use to the pain, channeling it into the intensity he requires to reach his feet. He just stands up when Xander steps in and throws a big right hand.

The punch proves devastating…for Cassius, cause Lukas ducks, grabs him by the wrist and drags the already damaged arm down into the top rope, snapping it off. Xander turns away and doubles over his arm, wrapping it in a protective cocoon that is own body.

Lukas then reaches over the ropes, grabs Xander by the jaw and pulls his head back so that he’s stretched slightly over the top rope. He then leaps into the air and nails a big knee strike right to the back of Xander’s skull, doubling him over. Lukas slides urgently through the ropes, steps to Xander’s side, locks arms around his waist and then heaves him up into the air for the Everybomb. It connects and with enough force to break Xander into shards.

Dollar: That very dangerous power bomb connecting, it put Dwayne out of action for a long time during that triple threat match last week, is it going to incapacitate Xander long enough to get the three?

Montgomery crawls into the cover, wedging his shoulders to the creases of Xander’s knees and folding him up into the pin.

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2

The dejected fans let their chins hit their chests before they suddenly leap to their feet at the sight of Cassius’ arm springing off the canvas.

Dollar: The Everybomb just didn’t do the trick, Xander barely getting a shoulder up….and oh balls…this is big time bad…He’s going after the taser.

Lukas abandons the pin and crawls across the canvas in the direction of the weapon he had his hands on moments earlier. The taser is plucked up into the hands of Montgomery, who again tests it. Once his eyes are enchanted by the sight of the electric current shooting through it, he turns to acknowledge that Xander has somehow gotten to his knees.

Lukas moves in quickly only to have the crease of his knee caught. Once again Xander tries to rip the leg out from his opponent apply an ankle lock before Montgomery leaps into the air and drills Cassius to the skull with an enzugari.

The stiff kick echoes throughout the Manhattan Center and sends Cassius twisting into the ladder, falling against it to support his shaken brain and body.

Susie: Awww, we didn’t get to see a real hug between Cassidy Haze and Porno Lad last week, but we do get to see Xander and ladder hugging it out now.

Dollar: He’s holding that ladder to keep upright after that hard kick to the cranium, which allowed Lukas to just barely avoid the ankle lock.

The taser has been dropped and before Lukas realizes he should pick it up, he gets too headstrong and impatient, rushing right at Cassius, who side steps him and tosses him into the ladder.

Lukas goes airborne, leaping right on top of the ladder. Xander then reaches out to grab his ankle, trying to put him in the submission while he’s standing on the rungs. This proves ineffective, Montgomery stomping down right on top of the injured bicep, again exploiting the banged up limbs to keep him in this match.

Xander once again doubles over, cradling arm to stomach while Lukas slowly turns around, about to leap off the metal ladder. Suddenly Cassius turns, revealing that he’s picked up the taser and is now wedging it against the ladder leg.

The ladder acts as a conduit, electricity passing through it and through the body of a stunned Montgomery….literally stunned that is.

Dollar: He’s sending the electricity right through the ladder and right into Montgomery’s body! This guy getting exactly what he has coming to him after what he did to Tay-Tay.

Xander doesn’t stop vicariously electrocuting Lukas until he sees his opponent’s eyes roll to the back of his head and drool seeping from the corner of his mouth. He just begins to fall forward when Xander drops the taser, reaches up, grabs his opponent by the arms and hoists his limp body up into the double underhook piledriver.

Dollar: And Montgomery dumped square on his head…

Susie: I thought his head looked more rectangular than square.

After the devastating dump on his skull, AND the electrocution, Montgomery is STILL all sorts of incapacitated. He looks to be in a vegetative state, which explains why he makes no attempts to stop Xander in the process of crawling across the ring, moments from going for the pin.

Lukas slowly begins to stir at last, but he still has no defenses, especially not against the pending onslaught. A group of IWC combatants come strolling through the curtains, led by Adam Chase. The Super-Agent is flanked by not just Hugo Magnusson and Bash Kincaid, but by his all-star client, Gavin Taylor.

Dollar: This just got a lot…LOT worse for Lukas Montgomery, because here comes Taylor Chase’s uncle, Adam…..Tay-Tay’s brother in law, Gavin Taylor, and the Chase Wrestling Collective. Their going to find out where Tay-Tay is by beating the answers right out of Lukas.

Susie: They might as well as take him to Gitmo then. Do some Japanese water torture.

At long last Xander has summoned the strength to reach out and drape an arm over Lukas’ chest, and as the referee makes the count…

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2

Suddenly Gavin Taylor drags Montgomery to the outside of the ring. He’s held up by the arms and dragged by Hugo and Bash towards Chase. A palm is wedged to Lukas’ chin in order to hold his head up, and that’s only so he can be slapped hard across the cheek.

Chase: Where ie she? Where is she you son of a bitch!?!

Instead of getting an answer he receives a grin from the drooling Lukas.

Chase: You think this is funny, huh? We’ll see if you keep laughter after my boys here are through with you.

Gavin: Normally I don’t get my hands dirty, but I’ll have no trouble putting my mitts to this guy’s face.

He gives a visual demonstration by pie facing Lukas, who almost goes down but is still propped up by the Tag Team Champions.

A flabbergasted Xander gets to his knees in the ring, arms thrown out to his sides and eyes bugging out of their sockets.

Xander: WHAT THE HELL!?!

Magnus is equally as upset, shouting around the ring at Chase, who has Gavin form a physical barrier between himself and Cassius’ massive manager.

Dollar: It looked like Xander was finally going to get a measure of revenge against the Blacklist, and then Gavin Taylor dragged Lukas out of the ring mere seconds before a three count could be completed.

Susie: Everyone wants a piece of that ass.

Dollar: This is ridiculous, Xander so close only to be robbed here. I‘d almost have sympathy for Cassius if it weren’t for those shitty tribal tats.

Cassius is still blowing his top as he kneels in the middle of the ring, Magnus now standing behind him, hands on his client’s shoulder, trying to reassure him that the night is still yet young. The Tag Champions not only keep Montgomery up but provide his only means of momentum, carrying him up the ramp in the direction of the curtains. Adam is already telling them what to do to Lukas should he refuse to give answers only to become deathly silent when an unexpected figure cuts them off.

Dollar: Hey now….why is Brittany Lohan stopping Chase?

The fans are just as fickle at the sight of Lohan forming a human barrier between Chase’s clients and the backstage area, which would have been turned into a torture chamber if not for Brittany.

Dollar: I would think, being Tay-Tay’s bodyguard, which she’s done a horrible job of tonight, that she’d want answers more than anyone.

Susie: Isn’t she all buddy buddy with the Blacklist?

Dollar: I wouldn’t think so after the way the Blacklist screwed her out of the number one contenders spot for the N.H.B Title last week by way of holding the World Title belt ransom.

The tension in the air is as as thick as the fat clogging Louie Anderson’s arteries. Everyone watches with baited breath, waiting for either Lohan, or Chase’s collective to strike. Finally a move is made…by Lohan…but not a physical one.

Lohan: Fork him over.

She insists.

Lohan: You four can’t get answers from him….I can….I happen to be very persuasive.

Though Chase really doesn’t want to give up possession of Montgomery, his only means of finding Tay-tay, he at last acquiesces to the request. Brittany swoops in and scoops Lukas up onto her shoulder, she walks away, carting him to the backstage area.

Dollar: Lohan has got Lukas….which is NOT good whatsoever if your Montgomery. Everyone knows that Brittany is NOT the most stable minded individual. We can only imagine what she’s going to do to Lukas in order to get answers out of him.

Susie: Maybe she’ll force him to sit through episodes of Yo-Gabba-Gabba.

Dollar: I just hope she can get answers soon, cause while all of this is going down, Tay-Tay is bleeding out backstage.

Adam Chase and Gavin Taylor exchange a glance, realizing they’ve just given up their sole source of information. Their glance ends when Chase’s eyes turn to the phone in his hand, desperately trying to dial a number.

A napkin dabbles the sweaty brow of Desmond Drake…in dire need of some Bystolic. His stress is at such a level he could desperately utilize some candles, or a nice long bubble bath. None of these are an option for Drake, who settles for pacing as a means to alleviate the tension. It doesn’t work, especially every time he so much as glances in the direction of the double doors at his side. They serve as the entry point to the conference room where the Board of Directors were holding their meeting this evening with the New York collective of marginal stock holders.

Drake: Dear Board of Directors….no….no….this isn’t a fruity letter.

Drake runs hands through his hair, but tries not to mess it so he can look as professional as possible in front of his employers, knowing the slightest aberration could cost him his job.

Drake: Ladies and gentlemen of the Board of Directors…I’m here tonight to apologize….

In aggravation he stomps his foot.

Drake: No….that sounds WAY too formal. Needs more emotion.

The recitation of his speech to the Board is abruptly cut short, as is his pacing when he walks head first right into the belt buckle of Orlando Cruze. He steps back, eyes darting up into the face of the well dressed and well kempt Icon.

Drake: Thank God you’re here.

For the first time in a very…very….long time, Desmond actually looks happy to see Orlando. The feeling isn’t mutual.

Orlando: What? You thought I wouldn’t show up? That I’d just let you go in there and incriminate me?

This is not what Drake needs to hear….his blood pressure spiking to near stroke levels.

Drake: What….what….what are you talking about?

Orlando: Don’t kneel there….oh wait…your NOT kneeling….

Drake has learned to let such comments slide down his back, not that they have a very long distance to travel.

Orlando: Don’t STAND there and act stupid…even if you can pull it off very convincingly. If you thought I’d let you go in there and set me up like you did on the last Riot!, your out of your obnoxiously huge head.

Drake: Orlando, you’re the only one of his mind, man. You won’t listen to me, you won’t listen to Nathan, you won’t listen to anyone. I thought a night in jail would finally help you hit rock bottom and be the trigger you needed to snap out of it. To go back to the Icon that I’ve spent so much of my life idolizing…

Orlando: You thought wrong, Drake. Besides, I’m STILL that Icon…I’ve never changed. I’m still looking out for the best interests of the fans, and for my roster.

Drake: Is that why you let Jackson go out and compete with a concussion? And why you would endorse the actions of the Blacklist even after everything they’ve done to YOUR roster?

Cruze swipes his hand through the air, blowing off the slanderous accusations.

Orlando: Everyone who fell at the hands of the Blacklist, they were all big boys, actually bigger than your average boy. They knew exactly what they were getting into when they signed their contracts. And I’ve NEVER endorsed what they did to Hurse, or Denile Partis, or Kellen Jeffries. I would have done something about it too, if it weren’t for Christian Savior, Silencer, and YOU, constantly meddling in my business and taking my eye off the ball.

Drake: Really?

The question isn’t cynical…it’s genuine.

Drake: Maybe your right, Orlando, maybe we’ve all been too quick to judge.

Drake confesses while lowering his head.

Drake: I’ve been trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but the way you’ve handled things lately….I mean…we wouldn’t be here about to defend our jobs if it wasn’t for the way you’ve conducted business.

Orlando: No, we wouldn’t be here if you, Silencer, and the Saviors hadn’t collaborated to set me up.

Drake: Orlando…please…even you can’t be THAT paranoid.

Orlando: You bamboozled me, Desmond….why? Because your nothing more than what I called you last week…a saboteur. You’re out to get me because I’m the only one who can make the IWC the ratings juggernaut it was long ago. You’re just being Mr. D’s little errand boy, out to ruin my reputation, out to make me look like a fool in front of the Board of Directors…all to undermine the success of the IWC, to cut its legs out from under it….

Drake: NO Orlando.

At last Drake seems to grow a backbone…but it may be too late.

Drake: I was put in this position because your doing in IWC, exactly what you did in SCW. Your causing chaos…carnage, disorder. Your doing nothing more than stirring the pot, Cruze. And admittedly, I’ve done a terrible job of keeping you in check. Otherwise this meeting wouldn’t be necessary. But if I’m able to admit my short comings, can’t you?

Cruze contemplates his answer instead of responding in haste. Desmond sees the window and dives through the opening.

Drake: If we can just go in there on the same page, we can convince the Board that we can make this partnership work…..

A phone jars Orlando, ringing loud enough to snap him out of the momentary enchantment.

Orlando: Shut it, Desmond.

Drake: Come on Orlando, can’t you take the call later, we’re really making some progress here…

Orlando AGAIN brushes Drake off, as he’s done so often since the commencement of their partnership. A phone is withdrawn from Orlando’s chest pocket and raised to his ear.

Orlando: This is Cru….

His face twists into a picture of agitation.

Orlando: WHOA…whoa…whoa…slow down…who is this?

A few moments pass as Orlando tries to make sense of the voice shouting into his ear.

Orlando: Adam, take it down a notch.

Everyone finds out at the same time who Adam was dialing at the conclusion of the Lukas Montgomery’s abduction. He speaks at a slower pace so Orlando can actually keep up with him.

Orlando: Uh-huh…uh-huh….

No more generic replies, Orlando falls totally and completely quiet, still as a statue. All traces of emotion fade, as does the pigment from his skin.

Orlando: Well where is….?

The answer is given before he can even finish the sentence….though it’s unclear rather it would end with a ‘Tay-Tay,’ or ‘the title?’

Orlando: I’m on my way.

He hangs up the phone and goes to leave, flabbergasting Drake, who is almost squirming out of his suit.

Drake: Orlando….where….where are you going?

Orlando doesn’t even respond, just starts marching down the corridor.

Drake: What about the Board?

Orlando: SCREW THE BOARD! I’m needed elsewhere.

Orlando vanishes through a door, leaving Desmond all alone to smooth things over with the Board of Directors. Nervously Desmond runs his hands over his head as the door to his side conveniently opens right at that precise moment.

Secretary: Mr. Drake, Mr. Cruze, their ready for you?

A deep, long sigh from Desmond, who fixes his tie, forms a stiff upper lip and steps into the lion’s den with a piece of meat hung around his neck.

Dwayne: Take it….BIATCH!

Knees repeatedly collide with the face of Aaron Harrison, Dwayne jumping into each strike and delivering them with incredible, jaw and nose breaking impact. He holds down on the back of Aaron’s head, holding his face down so that he can deliver the brutal MMA strikes.

Dwayne: You ain’t fucking with the IWC…with my boys…and with me no more.

He holds back on Aaron’s head, proving to be the only thing keeping Harrison upright. He doesn’t want to look at the loading bay doors in the docking area…he doesn’t want to look at the numerous crates…or the half eaten lunch and glass of water abandoned on top of one…all he wants to look at, is the face of Harrison…into his eyes…into the pupils which show no soul.

Dwayne: This shit ends right here tonight.

Harrison: What are you waiting for DWAYNE? Do it…DO IT!

Dwayne pulls back his fist and is just about to use it when Kozlov comes charging in, grabbing him by the shoulder. Rodriquez spins around and almost beheads her with a back fist to the cheek, knocking the sadistic princess into the crates stacked up around them. He then turns back towards Harrison in time to avoid a lariat to the throat, Rodriquez ducking at the last conceivable second.

Aaron then spins around and tastes a big spinning back fist to the lips for his troubles, almost bursting one of them on impact. Harrison falls to the concrete and begins to crawl….

Dwayne: That’s right, Aaron, craaaawwwl…crawl like a dog! And speaking of bitches…

He turns his focus to the back of Mika, who is leaning over a crate, TRYING her best to get up. Just as her legs regain some stability, Dwayne grabs her by the shoulder and turns her just as that glass of water mentioned earlier, is shattered right against Rodriquez’s forehead. Kozlov swung around and destroyed not only the glass but all of Dwayne’s momentum, sending him twirling to the concrete. He collapses onto his elbows and knees…

Mika: What were you saying about crawling?

Dwayne tries to pry some shards of glass out of his eye and get to his feet when Aaron comes barreling in and almost caves in his temple with a running punt kick. The strike, naturally stiff of course, sends Dwayne taking a very bad roll towards one of the loading bay doors, one that was negligently left partially open.

Harrison: You think your strong, Dwayne? You think you’re a bad-ass? Afraid I have to disagree.

Dwayne ends up grabbing the loading door and tries to pull himself up to his feet when Mika takes hold of a small steel crate and swings it down into the back of his head. This strike to the brain at last takes the zombie like Dwayne out, no longer dragging himself up without any use of his muscles or mind. He falls to his back, eyes fluttering as they grasp onto the image of the steel loading bay door above.

Harrison: Because to be strong…to be a bad-ass…

Harrison approaches a chain that acts as the lever for the loading door, taking hold of it.

Harrison:….you never….ever….hesitate.

He pulls on the chain and all the weight of the loading bay door comes crashing down right on top of Dwayne’s throat. Rodriquez’s body twitches and writhes, before at last going as still and placid as a tombstone. His throat was absolutely crushed by the door, leaving him truly breathless, brain and body deprived of oxygen.

The Blacklist members, now conjoined at the hips, Mika locking arms around Harrison’s waist, watch with emotionless eyes as Dwayne’s body stops thrashing.

Mika: Silly IWC, how many people are they going to sacrifice?

Harrison: As many as it takes before they finally learn.

The two walk away from Rodriquez, leaving him only barely able to draw breathes, chest heaving in a very slow methodical pace.

Back to the ring where Damion Sommers’ music is playing in the background, as the sociopath is lingering in the ring, eyes focused on the stage in anticipation of chaos…sheer….unbridled chaos.

Dollar: What in the world did we just witness?

Claude Judas Rose: Delicieux.

Dollar: Things just went from bad to borderline snuff-film. Dwayne Rodriquez may have just been beheaded by that loading bay door.

Claude: To be blunt, Dwayne is an asshole who got what he had coming.

Dollar: He took the fight to the Blacklist and it back fired in a big way. Where was Xander? Where were Chase and his Collective?

Susie: Probably in the middle of a pants off dance off marathon.

Dollar: There’s plenty of violence running amok around here in the IWC tonight, starting with Taylor Chase, then escalating to what we just saw from Rodriquez, and now we’re about to witness newcomer Damion Sommers collide with Krista Lewis, while Claude Judas Rose joins us here at commentary. Welcome, Claude.

Cameras shift to Claude seated at the end of the announce table, twisting his chair from side to side with thumbs twiddling over his stomach, looking about as care-free as he possibly can be.

Claude: Thanks for making me feel so at home.

Dollar: Erm, yeah, your welcome. To what do we owe the honor…?

Claude: Quiet, Johnny, don’t bother even trying to kiss my ass, it’s a waste of your time and my patience. I’m here for one thing, and one thing only, to watch a whore pay her penance.

Susie: But Damion Sommers doesn’t even look all that loose. Maybe behind closed doors…

Claude: Salope! Damion is NOT who I’m talking about. I’m referring to that tramp who super kicked me last week. It is not a transgression I will forget.

Dollar: Well Damion Sommers about to make another attempt at having a huge impact on tonight’s telecast, looking for win number two over the equally as dangerous and unpredictable Lewis. Surprised we’re even seeing Damion here tonight after he took that ride in the trunk of the Blacklist last week.

As her music plays she appears, dressed in all black leather with a whip in her hand. She cracks it a few times as she walks down to the ring. As the fans boo her it never fazes her as she keeps her head held high, tossing her long dark hair from side to side. She knows she is one of the most hatred women in the sport and she lets it be known she likes it that way. At ringside, she raises her hands to the crowd and flips them all off before slipping into the ring.

Claude: Here is the whore I was referring to.

Dollar: If only Krista was a whore, I’d be in hog heaven. Anyway, I think your just a tad upset with this woman after she gave you the Hell’s Bitch Kick at the conclusion of our pre-show last week.

Claude: No, I hold no grudges, I don’t like this woman, on the basis that she’s a scantily clad nothing, who gets over on her cleavage rather her artistic mastery of wrestling. It’s sickening.

Lewis and Sommers circle each other in the ring. Lewis looks at Rose at the commentators table and gives a small grin.

Rose: Pay attention to your match before I teach you how a lady should act. Not that I have the motivation to compete in any confrontation where money is not a motivating factor, I might just make an exception in this prostitute‘s case.

Dollar: You seem to be in a great mood today.

Rose: Oh, great. Wonderful. Wouldn’t you after getting a kick like that?

Dollar: Personally, I would have ducked and sneaked a peek. Let’s me know where to put my dollar bills.

Moore: Good job staying classy, Johnny.

Dollar: It’s what I do. First class all the way.

Rose: Please, you, this woman, everything about this company is void of class. Hence why I would gladly accept my termination should they offer it.

Dollar: Erm. How would that help your bottom line?

Rose: If I’m fired it would make things so simple. I could sit at home paying woman like Krista here to service me instead of competing in a company that lacks artistry. Don’t you people realize that if I’m fired, the IWC would still have to finish compensating me for the remainder of my contract, a mult-year deal. So they’d be paying me to sit at home drinking cheap wine and screwing cheap hookers.

The two competitors lock up in the middle of the ring. Using his superior strength, Damion pushes her back a little bit and very quickly grabs her right arm and locks in an arm wrench, then moves to a wrist lock on top of it. Using her quickness, Kirsta rolls forwards out of the arm wrench, ducks under Sommers’ arm and locks in a rear waist lock. He quickly drops to a knee while circling his opposite arm backwards and around her head before rolling her over his back and to the mat while holding onto that headlock. She is quick to position herself on he side with her top leg forward. She uses that leverage to push herself and Damion onto their knees and to their feet. While still in the headlock, she pushes Sommers to the ropes and pushes him to the other side. Damion bounces off the ropes and connects with a shoulder block. Lewis is to the ground. Damion runs to the ropes and bounces off. Lewis rolls to her belly as he passes over. She is to her feet as he bounces from the far ropes and back to her. Leapfrog over him. She positions herself and pulls her right leg back, going for the Hell’s Bitch Kick. Damion grabs the top rope to stop himself and throws himself through the top and middle ropes to leave the ring.

Dollar: Kirsta tried to hit her move. Looking to end it early. Or maybe she wants to hit it twice in the span of two weeks, like she did in the pre-show on the last Riot!

Rose: Hey.

Dollar: So, I’ve never got to ask this question. What’s it like being knocked out by a small woman?

Moore: Hey!?!?!?

Rose: Why don’t you step into the ring and find out?

Dollar: I’m a lover, not a fighter.

Rose: Thank you, M..J.

Moore: You’re a what? That’s not what I heard.

Referee Wright counts Damion Sommers’ time out of the ring as he looks walks around and thinks about what he is going to do. He jumps to the apron and steps through the ropes and back into the ring. He circles with Lewis before heading out of the ring again and restarting the count. She waits patiently in the ring, always facing him. He walks around the ring with his hands on his waist while looking at Kirsta from moment to moment.

When Referee Wright counts to 8, he jumps on the ring apron and steps through the ropes. The two competitors circle. Kirsta approaches as Damion backs into the corner and puts his body through the ropes and tells the ref to have her back off. While Wright tells Krista to back off, Damion leaves the ring yet again. She begins to argue with the ref about it, as he walks around the ring to the aisle and backs up away from the ring.

Kirsta Lewis is getting impatient as she now directs her attention to Sommers who is halfway up the aisle and looking at her. She screams some words at him that would make all mothers around the world cringe.

Rose: You watch your language. There are auto mechanics in here for goodness sake. There’s no cause for that.

Dollar: Yet, don’t you wish…

Rose: Shut up.

The fans hear those words and begin to cheer and laugh. Damion Sommers marches his way to the ring and jumps on the apron again and pulls through the ropes, except for one leg. He looks at her and when she approaches him, he pulls himself out of the ring again to a chorus of boos from the fans. He turns around and waves at the ring like he didn’t need this and began to walk away. Kirsta Lewis lost her patience. She ran at the ropes and jumped through the top and middle ropes for a suicide di…. PELE KICK!

Rose: HAHA! You see how easily she was outsmarted there? Woman….so gullible.

Dollar: I have to hand it to Damion Sommers, he outsmarted her there.

Sommers wasted no time in getting to his feet and pulling her up. He grabbed her by the head and quickly rolled her into the ring. He slid in also and covered.

1

2

kickout. Right into a headlock. He pushed on leg into the air while on the other foot and rammed his knee into the back of her neck and shoulder blades. He did it a second time. And a third. He pushed her all the way down to the mat before jumping in the air and landing a knee to her head. He covers again.

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2

kickout. Not in the least bit dissuaded he is quick to his feet and pulls her up as well, Very quickly pulls her into a front face lock and into a suplex position. He kicks his leg back and snaps his feet under and past her legs for a snap suplex. He quickly twists his body and rolls on her for another cover.

1

2

kickout again.

Dollar: It doesn’t look like he’s going for the win. I think he’s trying to get into her head.

Rose: Oh, it’s a good move. He keeps covering Kirsta so she will kick out, making her use up energy to kick out. Also, it’s making her worry that he might get a quick win.

Moore: But wouldn’t an experienced wrestler know this and not worry?

Dollar: That’s the point. He’s insulting her as she does it.

Moore: But he’s not inexperienced.

Dollar: That’s the point.

Moore: What point?

Rose: How do the two of you still have jobs?

Sommers takes his time as he begins to pull her up. He scoops her in the air and slaps her down to the mat. Drops an elbow, she rolls out of the way. Both to their feet. She is in the air very quickly and delivers a dropkick his his face. He is stunned as she is already to her feet. He flips forward and hits a senton splash, rolls to her feet and backflips to deliver a standing moonsault. He hooks a leg

1

2

3

NO!! Shoulder was up. She is quick to her feet as he is only to one knee. She runs and dropkicks him in the side of the head. He is knocked away and rolls under the bottom rope and out of the ring. She follows him out. As he walks around, she runs behind him and drives a knee to the center of his back, knocking him forward and into the barricade. He turns around and leans back as she charges, jumps awkwardly, and hits a knife edged chop.

Fans: WHOOOOO!!!!

Damion grabs his chest and staggers forward. The self-proclaimed Hell Bitch grabs him by the head and slams it into the ring post. She pulls him around and slams his head on the ring apron before rolling him back into the ring, with his head still under the ropes, face down. She backs up, steps forward and rocks him with a scissors kick.

Moore: Owie owie owie!!!

Dollar: She kicked him like her leg was an Iron Maiden.

Damion Sommers lay over the edge of the ring like his was completely unconscious. The Hell Bitch rolled into the ring and pulled him by the leg into the ring and rolled him over before covering for the

1

2

kickout.

He slowly rolled him to his feet and pushed him onto a corner. She climbed to the middle rope and began to knee him in the head.

Fans: 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10

He jumped off him and whipped him to the other corner. She charged in and ran right into a boot to the head. Sommers pushed himself to a sitting position on the top rope and jumped off and drove his knee into her head. Both are on the ground, trying to get to their feet. Kirsta is the first to land a blow with a roundhouse kick to his thigh. She jumped in delivered a kick to his shoulder. She spun with a wheel kick, Sommers ducked and stepped forward. When they were face to face again, he grabbed her around the chest, under her arms, and flung her in the air with a belly to belly suplex. She was in the air for some time before crashing to the mat. She grabbed her back and tried to get to her knees. Sommers was slowly, but surly, faster than she was. He grabbed her head and put it between his legs. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her up, jumped and hit a piledriver. She bounced off the mat and laid still he laid over her gently for the

1

2

kickout.

Dollar: I think he should have hooked the leg. He might have had here there.

Rose: I agree. But after what she did to him a few moments ago, I think he’s lucky to even get the cover.

Sommers slowly got back to his feet and went to a corner and outside the ropes. He slowly climbed to the top as Kirsta Lewis lay in the middle of the ring. He finally got to the top rope and raised his arms in the air. He jumped off the top rope and connected with a big elbow drop. He covered her again and hooked the leg.

1

2

3….

NO! shoulder thrusted up. Sommers could not believe it. He looked pushed himself up to a sitting position on his knees while looking at the ref in disbelief. Wright confirms that is was a 2 count. He looked down and shook his head before going to one knee and grabbing Krista by the head and pulling her up. He pulls her to a corner and hoists her on the top rope and begins to climb to the top. He locks in a superplex position, but Lewis punched him in the gut several times before knocking him from the top rope and to the ground. She jumped in the air and hit her Frog Splash.

Moore: Ohh… The Kitty Splash.

Dollar: I think it’s called the Cat Splash.

Rose: Kitty sounds better. But another word for a cat would be better.

Moore: The two of you are horrible.

Both competitors are down and hurting but Lewis at last turns and throws an arm over Damion’s chest.

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2

3!

Lewis has done it…she’s pinned Damion after a grueling back and forth confrontation.

Dollar: The Hell Bitch does it…She picks up the win over Damion Sommers in a very impressive….

Rose: Spraying perform on manure doesn’t take away the stench, Dollar. You cannot polish a turd.

Susie: What? Krista just had a great match, she looked pretty impressive in my view.

Rose: I would cherish the opinion of Andy Dick over you, whore.

Susie: Wha….what!?!

Rose: I’m through squandering my precious time on the two of you. In fact, I’m through wasting my time on this company, period, but I have one last goal to complete before I get both feet out the door.

Claude throws his head-set down and steps around the announce table, insisting that Jessica give him the mic. When she does, he implies she gave it way too easily, which makes her a loose slut.

Susie: I’ll pretend for a moment he meant ’whore’ in a loving way.

Dollar: It looks like Claude has something to say.

Krista struggles to her feet as the official raises her arm aloft, gesturing to the victor. But on this occasion, it’s the victor who’s celebration is spoiled.

Claude: Pardon the interruption…

Claude moves up the steps to the apron as Damion rolls out of the ring right past him. The closer he gets the more Krista is prompted to tighten her fists, getting ready for round two.

Claude: Mrs. Hell-Whore…I know you don’t consider what you did in this ring to be WRESTLING. For wrestling is an art….and I’m a TRUE artist. You on the other hand, probably consider Farah Fawcett smearing her paint smeared tits on a canvas to be fine art. No..no…it isn’t art, and you aren’t a wrestler. I happen to excel on both fronts…but, much like any great artist, my work goes underappreciated, because of the likes of skinny, talent less sluts like yourself who have deluded all these misanthropes into lowering their standards. Because of you…true art is dead…you killed it and put a Cleveland Steamer on its chest….

Claude’s comments are not well received by the fans or Lewis.

Claude: I came into this company to create my ultimate masterpiece, but because they choose to back talents like yourself, I see that all my hard work will ultimately be in vain. Hence why I’ve requested my release from this company, and will stop at nothing until I’ve been granted a reprieve from the shackles that are my contract. But if I MUST compete this evening, before I depart, I’ll give one last lesson in true fine art, and I hope that you, Krista Lewis, will sit right there between that idiot and that whore…

Gesturing to the commentary table.

Claude: ….to watch me vanquish someone you have much in common with, a trailer park, meth smoking, welfare collecting IDIOT. Perhaps I can finally teach someone the true artistry of wrestling, though I‘m sure my attempts will ultimately be futile considering you‘re inability to appreciate anything that isn‘t uttered by Jeff Foxworthy, and doesn‘t require an obligatory set up line of ‘you might be a redneck if.’

Krista shakes her head as the microphone plummets from Claude’s clutches.

Dollar: What an invitation from Claude Judas Rose to Krista Lewis. Apparently he wants her to join us out here at ringside to watch his match against the Trailer Park Kid, which is scheduled for just a few moments from now. Scooch over, I want Krista all to myself.

Susie: Awww, thought I’d finally have someone I could have a long chat with about glitter.

As Claude leaves the ringside area, Lewis watches and wonders if she should truly take him up on his offer.

Give us some room.

EMTs are the only ones permitted to be anywhere in the vicinity of Rodriquez, fending off several IWC rubber neckers. They tend to a man who’s neck may have just been turned into actual rubber after having a loading bay door collapse right on top of it. A cervical collar is delicately wrapped around Dwayne’s throat and neck, holding it as stationary as possible before ultimately moving him onto a back-board.

Chase: Who did this, huh? WHO!?!

Adam Chase fights his way through many local competitors and staff members to get the best view of Dwayne possible.

Gavin: Get out of our way dammit!

All Gavin’s barking finally departs the crowd so that he and Chase can get to the front.

Chase: Was this the Blacklist?

He gestures to Dwayne, who is heaved into the air by the back board and loaded onto the stretcher.

Chase: I ASKED A QUESTION!

There are several shrugs and titled heads, no one giving much in the way of a definitive answer.

Gavin: Their useless Adam.

Chase: How come nobody grabbed them?

More shrugs…more tilted heads…even less answers.

Gavin: You idiots just let our only chance to take Taylor back slip right through your fingers. Have you no appreciation for the first lady of the IWC? Don’t you know she’s lying somewhere in even worse shape than this friggin idiot?

Xander: Dwayne!

Rodriquez is unresponsive, even to the shouts of his colleague, and the closest thing he has to a friend, Xander Cassius. With Arthur Magnus following behind, Xander rushes to his allies’ side, trying to get close only to be held off by the EMTS.

Xander: What the hell happened?

Concerned whispers are shared by the crowd of lookie lous…none of which gives an explanation. All Cassius can do is gaze upon the faces of the vultures…waiting…and waiting…and waiting.

Chase: It was the Blacklist…THEY did this to….ummm…uhhh…whomever this is.

Xander: Those BASTARDS!

Xander kicks over a nearby crate, knocking the half eaten sandwich and bag of chips off its surface. All the while Arthur remains surprisingly stoic, not even intervening during his client’s outburst.

Gavin: And where were you….exactly?

Gavin JERKS some of the curtain jerkers out of his way as he inches towards Cassius, who freezes like he were just dumped into a big bat of carbonite. The piercing eyes of Xander slowly turn and lock on the audacious Taylor’s throat.

Xander: What?

He questions in a tone that would turn the hair on knuckles white.

Gavin: Where were you?

Gavin hates repeating himself, especially when it comes to talking to people beneath him….far beneath him.

Gavin: If you weren’t so busy out there grab-assing with the fans after your match, you could have joined….

It’s Taylor’s turn to freeze upon gesturing to Dwayne.

Gavin:…whomever this guy is…in getting your hands on the Blacklist.

The finger of blame is unfairly pointed at Xander, who is ready to snap said finger in two and shove it right up….

Xander: Hey! Dwayne and I have been fighting the Blacklist since the word ‘go,’ while you’ve all sat on your asses and done a big fat nothing to stop them. So if you want to blame anyone for what happened to DWAYNE ROD-RIQ-UEZ…

Gavin: Who gives two shits about Dwayne Rodriquez, the guy is totally expendable. We’re talking about Taylor Chase. If you would have been here to beat the crap out of the Blacklist like a good little trooper, we could have got Aaron or Mika to tell us exactly where their keeping my sister in law.

Cassius was already upset, but now is borderline psychotic after the way Gavin just disgraced not only himself, but the injured, and incapable of defending himself against such slanders, Rodriquez.

Xander: I was headed back to help him…but….

Gavin: Excuses, excuses. Your just as useless as all these tools.

He gestures to the jobbers, who, like Dwayne, cannot speak up, but for different circumstances, their job security resting on the fact that they remain silent.

Gavin: YOU let this happen. Your responsible for what happened to your Bud, and what happens to Tay…

A slap to the cheek finally shuts Gavin up, but not for long. Instead of responding verbally, he reacts with a fist, nailing Cassius right to the jaw.

Magnus: Boys…boys…stop this!

Chase: Call off your dog, Magnus!

If only they could turn a hose on Gavin and Xander, but it probably wouldn’t even be enough to keep them under control. The two are throwing strikes into one another’s faces and into the jaws of any jobber who tries to intervene. The emergency technicians look up just a second too late to warn Xander as he spills right on top of Dwayne and the stretcher thanks to a spear from Taylor. Both….all THREE men….go twisting to the concrete, the whole stretcher with Dwayne on top falling over.

The gawkers have finally seen enough, intervening in spite of the repercussions. Even Chase has had his fill of mindless violence for one evening, grabbing Gavin by the arm and physically prying him away from Xander. Magnus, with the aid of a few stagehands, grab hold of Cassius and pull him across his seat until he’s separated from Taylor by a few feet. He throws some kicks in spite of his feet being nowhere near his target.

Magnus: That’s enough, Xander.

Chase: Cool it, Gavin.

Taylor is trying to break free before he notices the EMTs swarming around the knocked over stretcher like a bees around a hive poked by a stick. Xander at last takes notice of this as well, eyes ripping out of their sockets.

Gavin: Look at what you’ve done!

This time Cassius doesn’t react on impulse and instead glares at the EMTs desperately trying to lend assistance to Dwayne, having to start from scratch at this point.

EARLIER TONIGHT

A screen grab of Dwayne Rodriquez brawling with both Aaron Harrison and Mika Kozlov.

Dollar: If your just joining us, you’ve missed a lot of great one liners from Johnny Dollar, but also some of the most chaotic imagery we’ve witnessed since the rebirth of the IWC. The Blacklist struck again and Dwayne Rodriquez became their latest victim.

The whole grizzly scene that unfolded earlier in the evening is relived to the horror of all onlookers. Dwayne is seen surprisingly holding his own against Mika and Harrison until a fortuitously placed glass of water is shattered right against his eye by Kozlov. It doesn’t end there, because then a large loading dock door is slammed directly against his larynx.

Dollar: Dwayne was taking the fight to the Blacklist before the numbers game became too much, leading to a loading bay door…yes….one of those huge overhead steel doors being dropped right across his throat by Harrison.

Susie: Do you think that he’ll get to use one of those voice boxes that make his voice sound like a robot. That could totally be his new gimmick. Dwayne could be the Man-Droid!

Dollar: But if this wasn’t bad enough, mere moments later, THIS happened.

MOMENTS AGO

It looks as if EMTS have at last got Dwayne stable enough to be transported, positioning him on a stretcher with back and neck braced for stability. But the brawl that breaks out between Xander Cassius and Gavin Taylor derails all of the hard-work of the medical crew. Their fist fight carries them into Dwayne, taking the stretcher over to the concrete with the duo landing alongside them. At last Adam Chase and Arthur Magnus intervene, physically prying their respective clients apart.

Dollar: Then Xander Cassius totally went ape shit on Gavin, for absolutely no reason in a totally unprovoked assault. And if that wasn’t bad enough he then knocked his own tag team partner right off the stretcher. Emotions are running so high tonight, a night where we were supposed to witness the biggest main event in Riot history when Taylor Chase challenges Rose Savior for the gold. But again, thanks to the Blacklist, that match looks like it will NOT be happening this evening…

Transition from video to the ring where a familiar individual currently resides, mic in hand and power suit draped over slender frame.

Jacob Laymon: I might be running a little behind schedule tonight, but welcome everyone to RIOT!

There is a mixed bag of reactions, some applauding, others heckling, and some chanting the most ridiculous things imaginable. Many of their impulsive responses are fueled by the sight of security surrounding the ring, the burliest of burliest guards forming a shoulder to shoulder barrier between Laymon, and anyone who would dare interfere. For added protection, the masked Executioner lurks behind Jacob’s back.

Dollar: And now Jacob Laymon FINALLY showing up. As we understand it, he was left in control of tonight’s telecast while Orlando Cruze and Desmond Drake are away meeting with the Board of Directors.

Susie: If only they left me in charge. There wouldn’t be such brutality. Because I’d give everyone a plushie…plushies solve all the world’s problems.

Though he’s dressed to the nines, decorum is the last thing on Laymon’s mind. With microphone in palm, Jacob begins to dissect the night’s previous events, and prognosticate upon the future.

Laymon: You may asking yourselves, what am I, head of talent relations doing in this ring right now? Well how about I put things in Laymon’s terms for you…hahaha.

Dollar: Oh lord, tell me he didn’t just go there.

Susie: Did he? Ewww….what if one of the wrestlers step in it?

Jacob proceeds after his terrible play on words.

Laymon: With Orlando Cruze and Desmond Drake away, I, Jacob Laymon, have been handpicked by the Icon himself, to run this telecast in his stead. And you all had best believe that I’ve been busting my hump to make sure that the ship sails smoothly while I’m at the helm.

Dollar: Epic fail.

Laymon continues in spite of the volcanic heat he’s elicited.

Laymon: And not to toot my own horn here, but I think I’m doing a pretty proficient job thus far. I guarantee everyone is glued to those tv screens right now, that there hasn’t been a second of channel surfing. Orlando would be proud that I’m keeping the IWC the ratings darling it has been since our inception…BUT….he might not be too pleased with other aspects of tonight’s telecast.

Short comings and pratfalls are not what Laymon is used to acknowledging…and he’s not about to change that now.

Laymon: Don’t worry…keep it calm, keep it relaxed, Boss, I’ve got this. Dealing with talent happens to be my area of expertise, which makes me confident that I can handle the Blacklist tonight.

But I’m even going to step out of my comfort zone by doing a bit of on the fly booking to ensure that the fans don’t feel bait and….wait, sorry, forgot I’m not allowed to use that phrase…so the fans don’t feel as if they’ve been robbed….no…hold on….that’s probably a poor choice of words too given what happened to you last week Orlando. Ummm…

He really…really tries to think this one out before deciding that metaphors or similes are just TOO dangerous.

Laymon:…so that the fans go home happy. There we go. That was safe.

The crowd doesn’t share Laymon’s confidence, evident by their jaded responses. Much like the Saviors on last week’s telecast, they know what to expect from the authority figure, and it won’t be anything to tell their children about.

Laymon: I’ll make sure the World Title match everyone was promised DOES go down tonight. Plus I’m going to make sure that there is no more chaos…no more carnage…no more disorder….no more antics. This night will go accordingly, and Orlando will see that he made the right choice leaving me in charg….

Mr. Laymon…ooooh Mr. Laaaaaymoooon.

Attention diverts to the Cartel-Tron.

Mr. Gaunt: Hi there.

And on the big screen everyone gets a glimpse of Mr. Gaunt, flanked by his own security, Silence. Executioner growls at the sight of the lady who defeated him in the body slam challenge last week. Mr. Laymon isn’t growling, he’s hyperventilating.

Mr. Gaunt: Oh, am I interrupting something?

Laymon: You know damn well I was in the middle of a spee….

Mr. Gaunt: Because it would mortally wound me to know that I had involuntarily interrupted you in the middle of conducting business.

Laymon: I was right about to finish announc…..

Mr. Gaunt: I’m all about professionalism, Mr. Laymon, and it would be terribly unprofessional of me to impulsively cut you off.

Laymon: Would you….

Mr. Gaunt: I’m sure it’s quite aggravating and stressful to have someone undermine you.

Laymon: I have a main event to….

Mr. Gaunt:…To have someone constantly employing cheap parlor tricks to challenge your authority. Why, it could almost be frustrating enough to cause premature hair-loss. At the very least you don’t have to worry about that.

Laymon: Stop it…stop it…stop it….STOP IT!

Repeatedly he stomps the canvas in the middle of a full on nervous breakdown. Executioner is there to give him a shoulder massage, but the big man is no amateur masseuse, almost ripping the trapezius muscle.

Laymon: What the hell is wrong with you!

He turns his wrath to Executioner, who backs up with open palms no longer on shoulders, but raised defensively.

Mr. Gaunt: There’s nothing irregular about me, Laymon.

Laymon: I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to him.

Pointing to Executioner.

Mr. Gaunt: Fair enough.

Laymon: I am so sick and tired of you.

Mr. Gaunt: That’s quite depressing, Mr. Laymon, here I thought you and Executioner were chummy enough to reenact one of those slow, hand in hand skips down the beach.

Laymon: I’m speaking to you.

Mr. Gaunt: Well then, I’m equally as devastated.

Laymon: Would you deal with this bastard?

Mr. Gaunt: Mr. Laymon. Why would I follow such malicious edict? What did Executioner ever do to you?

Laymon: I was talking to Executioner dammit!

Mr. Gaunt: Hmmm, seems you need a lesson in specifics almost as badly as you need a lesson in accuracy.

Laymon: You NEED to shut your mouth.

Mr. Gaunt: But as far as I can tell, Executioner is incapable of no more than the occasional guttural growl.

Laymon: I was talking to you!

Mr. Gaunt: Oh…specifics, Mr. Laymon, specifics.

Laymon: I told you to go and deal with him.

Mr. Gaunt: Fiiine, if that will put you at ease. Silence, go body slam Executioner again.

Laymon: God dammit, I was talking to Executioner!

Dollar: Why do I feel like we’re all in the middle of an Abbot and Costello routine?

Susie: I love it when they fought Frankenstein…..And look, there’s already a mask wearing Frankenstein in the ring.

It’s clear that Laymon’s earlier anxiety was warranted, the veins in his temples doing the cha-cha-cha.

Laymon: I swear to God, I can’t take anymore of this.

To the surprise of everyone but Mr. Gaunt, a sympathetic expression befalls the face of the Black Crusade leader.

Mr. Gaunt: You look almost ill, Mr. Laymon. Executioner, you might want to grab a bucket before he purges.

Executioner begins to search for a pail only to be stopped via a palm to his chest.

Laymon: I’m fine.

Mr. Gaunt: Maybe a pillow and a blanket…that’s the least you can do, Executioner. Go on, go and fetch. Sit Ubu sit, good dog.

Once more Executioner is about to take off and grab the requested supplies.

Laymon: I said no! I’m fine!

Mr. Gaunt: Have you eaten anything today, Mr. Laymon? Taking on this amount of work on an empty stomach isn’t healthy. Go get him a sandwich, Executioner, the last thing we need is for him to faint in the middle of the ring.

Executioner is already half way through the ropes before Laymon takes him around the massive bicep, pulling him back.

Mr. Gaunt: How about a nice Rueben? Maybe a Philly Cheese Steak of some kind, the grease would do wonders to settle your tummy, Mr. Laymon.

Laymon: I said no…no…no!

The easily manipulated Executioner looks soooooo conflicted.

Mr. Gaunt: Tisk, tisk, if you can’t take care of yourself, how do you ever expect to take care of an entire roster? Alright, if you won’t accept nourishment or comfort measures, how about I agree to carry some of the weight tonight on your behalf?

Mr. Laymon’s pulse is not only through the roof, but into the stratosphere.

Mr. Laymon: What are you talkin…wait, where are you?

Mr. Gaunt: Don’t worry…wait, what did you tell Mr. Cruze a few moments ago? Keep it calm…keep it relaxed…

Oh how Jacob loathes hearing ’his’ words come out of Mr. Gaunt’s mouth.

Mr. Gaunt: Because the Black Crusade is already precisely where we’re needed this evening.

The camera zoomed in on Gaunt and Silence pulls back to reveal the production truck behind their backs. The door is swung open and Mr. Hush stands on the threshold, moments from entering.

Mr. Gaunt. Being the observant individual that I am, I noticed last week that Mr. Cruze and his Spermicidal Conduit, Taylor Chase, were quite upset with the hard workers back here in the production truck. So it dawned on me, that the best way I could be of service, is to take over the audio and visual portion of tonight’s show. Or, again, for accuracy sakes, to allow my liege, Mr. Hush to handle such operations this evening.

Jacob: I swear to God, if you so much as dare set foot in that production….

Mr. Gaunt: Don’t you pay attention, Mr. Laymon? If you were nearly as observant as I, you would have heard me say that Mr. Hush is going to be in charge of production tonight, not me. Go on…go in.

Mr. Hush, unlike Jacob, actually does pay attention, following instructions to the letter. He enters the truck and slams the door behind, the sound of the lock latching can be heard.

Jacob: God dammit, Gaunt! I’m serious. If you think your gonna get away with this, your….

Suddenly the mic cuts out right in the middle of Jacob’s tirade. A furious Laymon strikes the microphone a few times, hoping it will kick back in. He then requests the use of ANOTHER microphone, one promptly supplied by Jessica Wilde. He lifts that to his lips and begins to speak, but his words reach no one else’s ears but his own.

Dollar: I think Mr. Hush has cut Laymon’s mic.

Mr. Gaunt appears genuinely concerned.

Mr. Gaunt: Oh my, appears your stress has caused you to become mute. Or perhaps the volume needs to be increased. Mr HUSH!

He cups hands around his mouth and shouts towards the production truck.

Mr. Gaunt: Mr. Hush, Crank the volume a little would you?

Laymon is so mad he’s actually shivering. He then hears some static emanating from his microphone, letting him know that power has perhaps been restored. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words he utters are not the ones that come pouring through the PA system.

You betrayed me! Your not good. You, you’re just a chicken. Chip-chip-chip-chip-cheep-cheep.

Instead of being consumed by rage, Jacob looks as confused as his head bodyguard. He taps the microphone once again and tries to speak, only to find his voice replaced by one belonging to the infamous Tommy Wiseau.

I did not hit her! It‘s not true! It‘s bullshit! I did not! Oh hi Mark!

Laymon runs a palm down his face before giving this one last try.

You are tearing me apart, Lisa!

The straw that not only broke the camel’s back and sunk Laymon’s battleship. Must be one powerful straw. The microphone is flung to the canvas and Jacob is barking at his head of security to do something. Executioner finally does exit the ring per the orders of his benefactor. All the guards surrounding the ring follow Executioner to the back amongst a loud uproar from the crowd. Jacob is left all alone in the ring, menacingly glaring at the Cartel-Tron, which continues to showcase Mr. Gaunt and Silence.

Mr. Gaunt: I’m so glad we could take just a small amount of pressure off your shoulders tonight, Mr. Laymon.

Security continues to swarm upon the production truck while Laymon remains behind, steam shooting from his nostrils and ears.

Dollar: Things just keep getting more and more…well…downright INSANE this evening. Now the Black Crusade has taken over the production truck to the ruination of Jacob Laymon. They are doing everything in their power to cause issues for the powers that be here in the IWC.

Susie: I want more Tommy Wiseau, give me more Tommy Wiseau or we riot.

Water soars through the air but eventually stops when it meets a barrier, that barrier being the face of Lukas Montgomery. After being void of consciousness for the past thirty minutes or so, at last the shower snaps Lukas out of it. Instinctively he raises his hands to wipe his face but finds his wrists are shackled to a wheel-chair. Most people would react with…I don’t know…horror…despair….dread? Oddly enough Lukas responds with a smile.

Lohan: Hey there, blue eyes.

Lukas’ grin isn’t mirrored by Brittany, who crouches before him, getting on his level….though the two are clearly inblanaced.

Lukas: Brittany, sweetheart, it’s nice to see you, all three of you actually.

Clearly he’s suffering some double vision as a result of that electrocution earlier tonight. Attention turns from the three Lohan’s stooped before him, to the chains binding him to the chair.

Lukas: Chains? Kinky.

Lohan: Really? Is this getting you hot?

Her hand slips into Lukas’ hair.

Lukas: Of course.

Suddenly she yanks hard on that glorious head of hairs, violently wrenching back his neck.

Lohan: Then this is really going to turn you on.

From the shadows that surround Montgomery, a tray table is pulled into view, one filled with an assortment of sharp, metallic items.

Lukas: Ewww, shinny.

A pair of pliers is raised aloft.

Lukas: How did I get so lucky?

Brittany looks a tad indecisive, returning the pliers to the tray and picking up a scalpel instead.

Lohan: Lukas, do us both a favor and spare yourself.

Lukas: Oh?

Lohan: Just tell me where Taylor is, and I won’t have to add one of your baby blues to my collection.

The scalpel inches towards Lukas’ eye.

Lukas: Brittany….Brittany….Brittany….everyone knows we’re buddy, buddy, so why don’t I spare YOU?

The scalpel stops just short of cutting away flesh.

Lukas: Did you think THIS wasn’t part of the plan? That the Blacklist didn’t anticipate my capture? You don’t know us well as you think, Lohan….

He shakes his head, while extending his hand just far enough reach into the side of his wrestling gear and remove document.

Lukas: Would you be kind enough to be a good little errand girl and deliver this to Orlando Cruze?

An indignant Lohan snatches the paper out of his hand, and then opens it up, giving it a quick scan.

Lohan: Seriously?

It’s not often that Lohan is legitimately shocked, but what she sees on the paper totally surprises her.

Lukas: I’ve got nothing else to say to you, Brittany. I’m only going to talk to Orlando.

He looks away from the ever so menacing six eyes that are staring back at him.

Lohan: Hate to disappoint you, Blue Eyes, but Orlando isn’t here….

A bone chisel finds its way into her hand.

Lohan: So I’m afraid your struck with me.

Lukas: You sure about that?

Brittany is about to respond, verbally and PHYSICALLY, when her pocket begins to vibrate.

Lukas: You probably want to answer that.

Into her pocket she dives and a cell-phone emerges with Orlando Cruze’s face book image flashing upon it. Once more Lohan is surprised to find herself surprised. She rolls her eyes and drops the chisel, using her hands to answer the phone rather than answer her impulses for violence.

Lohan: Orlando?

A pause for the answer.

Lohan: You’re on your way?

She stands up and looks towards the door behind her back.

Lohan: Yeah….Lukas is still with me…..No….I don’t mind sitting on him till you get here…

Her finger tips are already slipping around the chisel.

Lohan: No…of course not….wasn’t going to touch a hair on his head.

With a sigh she hangs up the phone and lets go of the chisel.

Lukas: Awww, what a shame, was really looking forward to seeing what that’s used for.

With a tilt of his head he gestures to the surgical stapler.

Lohan: Don’t worry, you may yet find out.

Lukas flashes another smile.

Happy birthday Mr. Porno Lad….happy birthday to you…

Just after hearing Cassidy Haze TRY to sing, which sounds more like a dozen cats being drowned in a tub, an instrumental version of Trenches begins to play in the background. With the Riot theme song blaring, Cassidy continues to skip her way to the ring with….oddly enough, a present tucked under her armpit. One wrapped with Jack Skeleton themed paper.

Dollar: So much going on around here tonight it’s almost hard to keep track of it all. Apparently Haze has some kind of present for Porno Lad.

Susie: What’s in the box….what’s in the box!?! Hehehe, I just totally went Brad Pitt on your ass.

Dollar: Erm, sure. Intrigue running wild up in this hizzy!

Susie: What’s a hizzy? Some type of euphemism for the clitoris?

Dollar: Keep on believing that. And I’ll keep on believing that we get some kind of answers to what’s going on around here the longer this show progresses.

Moore: It couldn’t possibly be anymore confusing.

Mr. D….THAT Mr. D….of SCW fame and fortune….sits at the head of a long table. At one of his sides, Sasha, at the other Bob Tomlinson. A few inches away, Jason Zero’s representative is also discernable amongst the crowd of other stock holders. And of course, rounding out the group seated around the table, is a man who has an emotional investment in IWC, rather than a financial one, Desmond Drake.

Mr. D: So, what your telling us is that Orlando Cruze was called away….on business?

Desmond’s armpits must look like they pinched water balloons to the point of implosion. His brow is heavy with sweat, and his skin is so red one might mistake him for a Killer Tomato, if there are even viewers old enough to understand that reference.

Mr. D: What ‘business’ is urgent enough to call him away from this meeting?

It feels like the scalpel that Lohan was moments away from using on Montgomery is now twisting in Desmond’s intestines. Nervously he looks away from Mr. D, unable to bring himself to make eye contact with his mentor, especially when he has to lie through his teeth.

Drake: I’m sure it was a real emergency. Probably something to do with one of his kids. I mean, Mr. D, you can surely relate to Orlando on that front, if anything happened to your daughter you’d….

Mr. D: Desmond…just stop.

He waves his hand through the air.

Mr. D: Don’t try to play on my paternal responsibilities…in fact…don’t try to play me at all. I’ve been manipulating people for over a decade, Boy, it‘s an acquired skill, one you don‘t possess.

Sasha: Seriously, Desmond, your attempts at manipulation are almost as bad as your attempts to steer Orlando Cruze in the PROPER direction.

Tomlinson: We’ve been a tad disappointed in your performance, Desmond.

Drake just continues to look down at the floor, unable to tear his gaze away from the feet that dangle over the edge of his chair.

Mr. D: Look at us like a man when we talk to you, Drake.

At the demand of Mr. D, Desmond raises his head, taking his focus off his toes and to the eyes of his mentor.

Sasha: When you came to us earlier this year and told us you were the right person for this job….we admired your spunk, your determination. Normally we wouldn’t give an intern this type of opportunity, but your persistence…your boldness…it really won us over. If you could stand in front of a room full of powerful people, like us, and insist that you can do what we’ve been unable to, control Orlando Cruze, we thought surely you’d be capable of standing up against Orlando. But…that’s NOT what we’ve seen. Instead you’ve been nothing but a fan-boy….a MARK for Orlando. And you’ve allowed your admiration for Cruze to cloud your judgment.

Mr. D: You keep talking about how much you trust, Orlando….Do you think if WE trusted Orlando, that you’d even have a job?

Tomlinson: Which might not be the case after this meeting has adjourned.

Mr. D: You were given a task, one you VOLUNTEERED …no…no….PLEADED for over and over and over again until we finally broke down. And what have you done with this opportunity, you’ve squandered it. You’ve let yourself be manipulated constantly by Orlando, blindly following him even as the IWC fell into total chaos.

Sasha: Let’s look at the most recent pay-per-view. We appreciate the fact that you forced Orlando to put the World Title on the line in the tournament, but shortly thereafter, things spiraled into total lunacy.

Tomlinson: There was a wife being forced to bludgeon her husband with a Singapore Cane, a man’s knee repeatedly assaulted post match, a dancing Ninja illegally officiating matches, and a half naked man chasing chickens throughout the parking lot….

Mr. D: And where were you during all of this? Oh yeah…you ran away with your tail tucked between your legs.

Desmond: Mr. D…Board….I’m very sorry for my poor performance over the past few months…

Mr. D: And you should be.

Desmond: But I’ve been trying my best to take a stand and be the man the IWC needs me to be.

Sasha: Don’t think we didn’t notice what you did on the last Riot!

He perks up in his chair.

Sasha: Having Orlando arrested, in spite of the charges being dropped later, was a risky yet calculated move. You showed the type of boldness you won us over with, and the unflinching courage we saw you exhibit time and time again when encountering certain SCW competitors during your time interning under the old man.

Mr. D sneers at the jab directed towards his age.

Mr. D: You’re actions demonstrated poise under pressure, and reminded us why we put you in this position to begin with. You had Orlando detained by police even though you knew you would be facing swift and severe repercussions from the obviously unstable Cruze.

Tomlinson: And it looked like the arrest actually seemed to EFFECT Orlando.

Mr. D: As did your strategy of employing Cruze’s old chum, Nathan Creed, to try and talk some sense into him.

Desmond: To be fair, Nathan was pretty motivated to take a stance against Cruze WAY before I even got in his ear.

Sasha: So yeah, you’ve BEGUN to take steps in the right direction to stem the tide of chaos that Cruze has caused.

Mr. D: But, in my person opinion, it’s too little too late. The company is in a state of total disarray, and as far as I‘m concerned, your just as culpable for this FAILED experiment, as Orlando is.

Tomlinson: Though he isn’t here. I think it’s time we move on to discussing the actions of Orlando Cruze.

Mr. D: We’re gonna be here a while. Pizza anyone?

A unanimous “no” is heard from everyone gathered.

Riot! Returns with Claude Judas Rose already inside of the ring, pacing back and forth with his music blaring in the background. The tricorne is gone, and there’s no sight of his fanciful tapestry hanging from the entry way…no flash….no pizzazz…just straight up Rose…straight up violence. He paces back and forth, one eye on the stage and the other on Krista Lewis seated behind the commentator’s table. With legs crossed Krista twists back and forth in her chair, barely even paying attention to Rose’s threatening glances.

Dollar: Finally…finally the Board of Directors bringing down the hammer on the one man who truly has it coming…Desmond Drake.

Susie: I hope he doesn’t get fired before I get the chance to tussle his hair.

Dollar: Speaking of bringing down the hammer…that’s just what Krista Lewis might do, joining us here at ringside by way of Claude’s invitation moments ago.

Krista Lewis shrugs rather than verbally responding.

Dollar: We saw Claude Judas Rose, the man you fought to a double count-out last week on IWC.com’s exlusive pre-show doing commentary moments earlier…so I guess we’re going tit for tat.

Susie: Hey, that’s my nickname for my boobs. Tit-and-tat.

Krista: Thanks for continuing to reinforce the stereotype of blondes, Susie. And Johnny, I’m here because Claudia up there, had some choice phrases for me during his match. I thought it only be fair to get a few things off my chest as well.

Dollar: You could start with your bra.

Krista: Pardon?

Dollar: I just hope this doesn’t lead to a brawl. You’re not going to try and get the jump on Claude like he did to you?

Krista: Probably. Come on now Johnny, you know there’s no other way this could end.

Dollar: True.

Claude is already mumbling obscenities under his breathe towards Lewis, while also employing some crude hand gestures, such a throat slicing motion.

Krista: Keep on threatening me, Rose. I’ve yet to hit the Hell’s Bitch Kick tonight, getting a little anxious to deliver one.

With Black Magic Woman at his side, Trailer Park Kid makes his anticipated debut, stepping to the stage. Though he should be anxious about competing in his first IWC match, he seems more preoccupied with the unusual intro music ushering him forth to the ring. He looks up at the speakers, awkwardly batting his eyes before at last shaking his head. He and Black Magic Woman at last head for the squared circle, where Claude continues to anticipate the confrontation.

Dollar: Well now…it seems we didn’t have to wait long to see Mr. Hush’s influence on the audio and visual side of the show. He just swapped out TPKid’s intro theme for…whatever it was we just heard.

Susie: That may be the greatest entrance theme of all times. I’m so making that my ring-tone.

Dollar: This is not going to sit well with the powers that be. But just like I said last week, every Riot! seems to see the debut of another combatant eager to make a splash on our level. Last week, it was you, Krista Lewis, debuting in our pre-show, tonight, it’s TPKid, rising to the challenge.

Krista: Wow…how fair that I’m relegated to the pre-show, and this greasy redneck actually gets an in show introduction?

Susie: It’s because you’re a woman, Krista, and woman are treated so unfairly around here. We need to stage a protest.

Dollar: Maybe you two should remove your bras and burn them.

Krista: Excuse me?

Dollar: I said maybe you two should remove your…ummm….uhhh….bras and burn them. Yeah, I couldn’t think of a way to cleverly word my way out of that one. Just go ahead and slap me.

Krista: If we weren’t separated by this walking twig between us, maybe I would.

Susie: Twig? But I ate a whole apple two weeks ago.

Lewis goes back to watching someone else who’s words have spurred her to violence. Claude’s attention however is squarely on TPKid, who is running the ropes in front of him, limbering up.

Dollar: TPKid, who as we understand it, has made a impact around the wrestling world, is going to have a handful with Rose. A man with a serious fetish for violence and a determination to prove a point to you, Krista.

Krista: If that point was making it apparent that he’s drawn his facial hair on with magic marker…mission accomplished.

The bell chimes as Claude and TPKid size one another up. Just before the match can officially get underway, a small circle appears in the corner of the screen, one filled by the face…or mask…to be more accurate, of Mr. Hush, hitting many switches and toggles, in spite of not knowing exactly what they do. Hence why Claude and TPKid have to stop in the middle of their feeling out process to look up at the house lights which constantly change colors before settling on an obnoxious shade of lime green that is highly offensive to the eyes. The camera turns away from the Black Crusade member, and settles on the newest acquisition to their ranks…the Shakespearian actor…Al Todd-Meriweather.

Al: A FOND HELLO TO THE IWC FANDOM…AS THE VOICE OF MR. HUSH, I’M HERE TO ANNOUNCE HIS DISPLEASURE…OR MORE ACCURATELY…HIS BOREDOM WITH WHAT WE’RE SEEING.

Dollar: Does this guy have no control of his decibel level? He shouts more than Sam Kenison.

Al: ITS JUST NOT WORKING FOR HIM…NOT AT ALL…WHATSOEVER…NOPE…NUH-UH…NADDA…THEREFORE MR HUSH HAS DECIDED THAT TO GIVE THIS MATCH, AND MANY OF OUR SEGMENTS TONIGHT, JUST THE SPICE AND EVERYHTING NICE THEY REQUIRE, HE’S FOUND SOME OF THE GREATEST MEDIA CLIPS OF ALL TIMES!

SO, TO ACTUALLY MAKE THIS MATCH INTERESTING, HERE’S A CLIP OF JESSIE SPANO’S MEMORABLE FREAK OUT FROM SAVED BY THE BELL!

Hush disappears as the circle he was encased in transforms into a square. Within said square the image of the Black Crusade member has been replaced by Jessie Spano’s heart wrenching performance from Saved by the Bell.

Dollar: Oh lord, please don’t let this be a sign of things to come.

Susie: Elizabeth Berkley…I almost didn‘t recognize her without her whore uniform on.

There seems to be quite a bit of fanfare for TPKid, as the crowd tries to do anything to ignore the obnoxiously green hue cast over the ring.

Dollar: And the fans getting behind this rookie, by IWC standards at least, but then again they were always going to; such is the disdain for Rose.

Lewis: And rightly so, turning up and thinking he has the right to comment on my match. Who the hell does he think he is?

Susie: Got to admit, it seems the fans are taking to the Trailer Park Kid…maybe we have a new favorite in our midst. Then again, I tend to like anyone with oil stained clothing. Makes me feel so much cleaner by comparison.

Dollar: Until Claude makes a mess of him…well, more of a mess

Lewis: You honestly believe that? What has he ever done to justify that?

Dollar: Errrr…

Lewis: Exactly

Immediately Rose goes on the offensive, take it to the TPKid with a succession of rights and lefts which rock him back on his heels. Claude grabs a hold of the Kid’s wrist and whips him across the ring and into the ropes, lifting his knee into the face of his opponent. As TPKid hits the ground, Rose jumps in the air, dropping his knee into the chest of the Kid, before hooking his opponent into a Reverse Chin Lock

Dollar: As expected, the rookie well and truly out of his depth here, and Rose opening up and then some

Lewis: Not a bad start, I’ll give him that

TPKid gets back to his feet and drives his elbow into the guts of Claude and then again, and then a third time until he is released. He then runs the ropes, but Claude is waiting for him and scoops him up, driving him into the mat. He then measures TPKid and drops his fist into his face, before going for a pin

1…

TPKid quickly kicks out, and rolls to ringside, where he is given words of encouragement from the Black Magic Woman.

Dollar: Good idea rookie, go ask your momma for help

Susie: I’ll tell her you said that

Dollar: Don’t she has bigger arms than me.

TPKid slides back into the ring and immediately Rose is on him, and stomping down on his body. Rose the picks him up and bails him into the corner, before running in with a Body Block which crushes TPKid in the corner. He then grabs TPKid by the hair and throws him across the ring with a Hair Toss, the fans letting him know what they think of him, boos raining down from the rafters. Rose merely looks out over the crowd and laughs, making a point of laughing in the Black Magic Woman’s face as well. Claude picks the TPKid to his feet, and drills him with a Snap Suplex, his spine crashing into the canvas. He then picks him up and drills him again with the same move, TPKid unable to resist. Rose the picks him up again, and delivers the Snap Suplex for a third time, driving all the air from TPKid’s bodies, before hooking the leg

1…

2…

TPKid kicks out again to the delight of the crowd

Susie: Rose dominating this match thus far

Dollar: Of course he is, the rookie cannot cope with the onslaught.

Lewis: Could be that the TPKid is just a little out of his depth

Susie: But he is hanging in there, which is half the battle.

Dollar: Yeah great, he’s got some guts, but it won’t score you a pin fall now will it?

Rose once again picks TPKid to his feet, this time drilling him with a Neck Breaker, which once again brings the boos from the crowd

Dollar: What has he done besides be good?

Susie: It’s the arrogance of the man Johnny, its way people don’t like you

Dollar: People DO like me…and I don’t have to drop to my knees to get them to like you do

Susie: Are you implying…

Dollar: Yes I am sister…I went there. Well, no IWC fans, I haven’t been there…ewww.

TPKid is picked up to his feet once again, Rose drilling him with a perfect drop kick which once again drops TPKid to the mat. Claude drops to his knees again to attempt a pin

1…

2…

TPKid kicks out again, but this time with a little less authority, Rose nipping up to remonstrate with the referee. As he does this however TPKid reaches up, and pulls Claude into a small package

1…

2…

3…

No, Rose kicks out, the shock almost costing him the match. His anger gets the better of him however has he begins to stomp TPKid over and over again, TPKid having to cover up to avoid the punishment

Susie: See, Claude’s arrogance nearly cost him there, TPKid nearly stole this

Dollar: Yeah, well now look, all he did was piss Claude off.

Claude picks TPKid up and throws him into the corner, raising his arm

Susie: I’ve seen this

Dollar: It’s the ‘Bloody Rose’, and you’ll see why it is named such if he hits it.

Claude runs in, looking to hit the move, and jumps up onto the second rope. However, before he can grab the hair, TPKid drops him with a desperation hard right to the face which sends Claude flying backwards. TPKid turns, and springs off the ropes, into a Moonsault, crashing into Claude’s prone body. Both men lie on the mat out of it, as the referee begins to count

1…

2…

Dollar: TPKid hit the move, but he has absorbed so much punishment he can’t take advantage.

3…

4…

5…

Susie: And its Rose moving first, crawling towards the ropes.

6…

7…

Dollar: And now TPKid starting to stir, but Rose is at the turnbuckle, and is up

The referee stops the count, and Rose attempts to hooks TPKid. However, the Kid gets out of the move, and drops Claude with a Swinging Neck Breaker, the arena erupting.

Susie: He’s hung on in there, and now he’s taking control, and these fans love it

Lewis: Yes, now this is what I was looking for. Come on Kid, show him what you can do

Dollar: Rose just taking a minute, normal service will be resumed.

TPKid holds the back of his head, and walks over to Claude who has problems getting to his feet. TPKid boots him in the stomach and whilst he is bent over delivers a shocking DDT, driving his head into the mat. TPKid then starts to climb the turnbuckle, unsteadily arriving at the top.

Dollar: What the hell is he doing?

TPKid answers that question with a Flying Elbow Drop, which crashes into Claude’s unmoving body. TPKid hooks the leg and the referee drops to count

1…

2…

Claude kicks out at two, TPKid immediately jumping to his feet and grabbing the back of Claude head. He then runs across the canvas before jumping, dropping Claude with a Bulldog, driving Rose into the mat once again, before once again hooking the leg.

1…

2…

3…

No, Claude kicks out again, TPKid just missing out on the three counts. TPKid once again drags a groggy Rose to his feet, whipping him into the ropes and scooping him up, allowing the momentum to take him backwards before dropping Rose by his throat onto the strands.

Dollar: This kid is good

Susie: Changed your tune Johnny?

Lewis: It’s a fine performance from the TPKid, but the main reason he has got back into this match is Rose simply doesn’t have a clue how to compete in a company of this size and history.

Rose attempts to get to his feet, but TPKid grabs him and takes him to the mat, hooking into the Black Mamba, his version of the Peruvian Necktie, which brings every member of the crowd to their feet.

Susie: What the hell is that?

Dollar: It’s used mostly in MMA, but it’s a highly effective submission move which has got Rose in massive trouble here.

The referee asks Rose if he wants to quit, but Claude refuses, trying to drag both his and his own weight to the ropes. TPKid continues to pile on the pressure, but Rose is made of stern stuff and is now just a few inches away from the ropes. For a moment it looks like he won’t make it, but finally his hands grip the strands and the referee tells TPKid to release the move which he does. Claude rolls out the ring, holding his neck, as TPKid basks in the adulation of the fans

Susie: TPKid in control of this match up, and Claude Judas Rose doing the only thing he could and getting out of the ring

Dollar: I’ve gotta admit, I got this kid wrong

TPKid sits on the strands inviting Rose back into the ring, but he declines the invitation, preferring to use the steps and only then does he get in once TPKid has backed away

Susie: Some of the early arrogance gone, Claude knows he’s in a fight.

Dollar: He should, he very nearly lost it there to that brutal submission move.

Lewis: Come on, keep up the pressure Kid you got this

Rose is a bit more indecisive, knowing that TPKid is more than capable, but TPKid wants to keep up the momentum and charges in, taking Rose back into the corner and nailing him with a couple of knees to the gut. As Rose bends over, TPKid drops him with a Fameasser, driving Rose’s face once again into the mat. Quick as a flash he is back in him, and hooks in a single leg Boston Crab, once again leaving Claude righting for the ropes. TPKid is in the center of the ring and has it hooked in tight, leaving Claude with nowhere to go. Claude however spins, TPKid quickly turning the move into an Ankle Lock, but Rose kicks out with his spare foot, his heel connecting with the chin of the TPKid sending back towards the ropes. A stunned TPKid holds his chin, but Rose is already up and running the ropes. TPKid goes the same, but Rose leaps, hitting a flying clothesline line which nearly decapitates TPKid

Dollar: Diving Rose Line out of nowhere…that’s the difference right there. Ring experience counts for everything and TPKid just found that out.

Rose staggers over to TPKid and picks him up, forces his head into his armpit, the stale odor causing the TPKid to almost gag. Rose then whips TPKid into the corner and follows him in, jumping up on the second rope besides TPKid and placing his knees behind the Kid’s head. He then leaps forwards, TPKid’s face hitting the canvas hard, blood splattering everywhere from the impact

Susie: Ooooo what a shot from Claude Judas Rose, hitting the Bloody Rose, and leaving TPKid with a bloody nose. Did you see what I did?

Dollar: You do realize that’s why the move is called that?

Susie: What?

Dollar: Forget it, my head hurts.

Lewis: Impressive…

Back in the ring, Claude turns TPKid over, and whilst grabbing the tights hooks the leg

1…

2…

3…

The arena boos and jeers, but then erupts as the referee puts two fingers up, and points to TPKid’s hand holding onto the bottom rope. Claude rubs his eyes in frustration, again arguing with the referee and then the fans

Dollar: TPKid is busted open; he should be concentrating on him, not the fans or the referee.

Susie: And somehow TPKid is getting to his feet, his nose still pouring blood.

TPKid wipes away the blood smearing it across his arm, as Rose turns to see his opponent getting to his feet. Rose runs across the ring, but the TPKid meets him with a devastating Spear, cutting him in half. After regaining his senses, TPKid goes for the cover

1…

2…

Kick out by Rose, to the annoyance of the crowd. TPKid gets to his feet, looking to pick Claude up, but Claude rolls him up into a small package

1…

2…

TPKid kicks out, both of them rising to their feet, Rose drilling TPKid with a right hand that TPKid retaliates with one of his own. Another shot from TPKid us then responded to with one from Claude. Claude throws another which TPKid ducks, lifting up his opponent and drilling him with a Spine Buster. TPKid then nips up onto the turnbuckle, but Claude is up, and he punches TPKid in the gut, and then again, the both of them stood on the top rope. Claude hooks TPKid around the waist and then falls backwards, the both of them crashing into the canvas as Rose delivers a perfect Superplex from the top turnbuckle.

Susie: What an effort from TPKid, but this is over

Dollar: Pin him Claude, I always had faith in you

Lewis: Kick out TPKid…one more time

Claude crawls over, and with a massive effort covers his opponent

1…

2…

3…

The arena reacts negatively towards Claude who lifts his arms aloft. But the referee brings them down, signifying that TPKid once again kicked out before the three, and that this match isn’t over. Rose kicks the turnbuckle in frustration, as TPKid tries to drag himself up using the strands for assistance.

Lewis: YES!!! That’s what I’m talking about

Dollar: What a match we have watched here, TPKid putting in one hell of an effort, but Rose also showing why he is so highly rated in this company.

Susie: Both men look out on their feet, but the crowd is still behind the TPKid.

Rose psyches himself up for one last effort, as Black Magic Woman shouts encouragement to TPKid who looks really unsteady having given everything in this match. Rose hooks TPKid and drops down to one knee, taking the exhausted Kid to the canvas with him. TPKid then lifts himself up and drops onto his backside, bringing the jaw of Claude Judas Rose down on the top of his skull. TPKid then gets to his feet, and whips Claude across the ring, connecting with a Dropkick on his return, before going for the cover.

1…

2…

Kick out by Rose, TPKid immediately picking Claude to his feet. Claude breaks from him however and gouges him in the eyes. Whilst blinded, Rose drills TPKid with a Reverse DDT, covering him with his feet on the second rope

1…

2…

Nooooo, TPKid kicks out yet again, only now the referee seeing Claude’s feet on the ropes

Dollar: OMG!!! What is it going to take?

Susie: I’d say Claude going to the top…

Rose climbs to the top rope and holds his arms aloft, TPKid unable to move.

Dollar: This is it, what an effort, but this is over.

Rose leaps from the top, hitting the diving head but from the top rope

Susie: Job done

Dollar: But it took the Rose Dive…amazing effort from the TPKid

Lewis: Dammit, lucky that’s all

Rose motions that it is over, and drops to one knee, hooking the leg

1…

2…

No, No, No…kick out by the TPKid once again, somehow summoning the strength to escape. The fans are in absolute raptures having found a new favorite to get behind. Rose doesn’t like the noise however, and once again flips off the crowd, whilst once again climbing the turnbuckle.

Dollar: He’s going for it again Susie…

Susie: And TPKid doesn’t know where he is

Lewis: Come on TPKid get out of there

He leaps from the top, crashing into, NO, TPKid rolls out the way at the very last moment, Claude crashing into the canvas hard. TPKid gets to his feet, using the ropes again; Claude gets up on his knees, but is sent sprawling by a Shining Wizard. TPKid goes for the pin

1…

2…

Kick out by Rose, both men now breathless and running on empty. TPKid picks Rose to his feet and throws Rose into the ropes. As Rose comes back he ducks under a running Lariat. Rose stops, allowing TPKid to hits the ropes again

As TPKid comes back, Claude Judas Rose scoops him up, looking for a moment like he is going to hit a scoop slam, but then he thrusts him down, TPKid hitting the canvas hard on his head, his neck bending wickedly

Dollar: Oooo, what a shot from Rose

Susie: Art Attack…and just like that

The referee drops to his knees as Rose hooks the leg

1…

2…

3…

The arena erupts in boos as Rose picks up the victory. TPKid holds the back of his head as Rose celebrates.

Lewis: Dammit, he was so close

Instead of paying attention to TPKid, who is being aided by the Black Magic Woman, Claude has his sights set on another former opponent, Krista. He leans on the ropes, shouting over them at Lewis.

Claude: Have you learned? Have you?

Krista: Yeah, I learned….I learned that you’re a total jackass. Actually, let me put this in language Claude would understand.

A microphone is taken into Krista’s hand and she taps it while walking around the announce table and taking a seat upon its edge.

Dollar: Can you scoot back just a little bit further here Krista, you’re ALMOST sitting in my lap.

Krista: CLAUDE!

Her shouts into the microphone ensure she captures Claude’s attention.

Krista: I think I HAVE learned a few lessons from watching you, but the only way I can convey my message is by talking in terms YOU seem to understand. Claude, you might be a pretentious douche-bag, if you think simply wearing paint smeared overalls makes you an artist.

A deep breathe is taken in order for Claude to compose himself, considering that the joke he used earlier to insult Lewis is now being employed against him.

Krista: Claude, you might be a pretentious douche-bag, if you think growing a stubble and wearing a really stupid hat, makes you an artist.

Rose blows her off with a dismissive swipe.

Krista: Claude, you might be a pretentious douche-bag, if you go around calling everyone idiots and whores, yet secretly screw anything without chest hair, and show no intelligence by speaking in nothing but curse words.

He mumbles the word ‘bitch’ behind clinched teeth.

Krista: Got one more….Claude, you might get a Hell’s Bitch Kick, if you don’t stop running your mouth like a masochistic pretentious douche-bag…and stay out of my business.

Claude chuckles and then steps into the ropes once more, leaning over them to offer a rebuttal.

Claude: Since I don’t pay for sex, I’ll have no trouble staying out of your business.

Now Krista turns the other cheek, by sliding into the ring and causing Claude to back peddle. He and Lewis have a tense face off to a tepid response from the crowd, wondering who is going to make the first move in this chess game. Ultimately Lewis steps in and lifts her leg for the kick causing Claude to turn and dart away, but Lewis had no intention of actually delivering the Hell’s Bitch Kick, instead lowering her foot back to the canvas. Her motivation becomes clear when Claude spins around only to run right into a Canadian Destroyer from TPKid, who sprung from the top rope and caught Judas on the way down, flipping him right over before ultimately dumping him on top of his skull.

Dollar: Ohhh, Krista Lewis just set that up perfectly! It looked like she was going to nail Rose with yet another Hell’s Bitch Kick, but instead she sends him turning right into the Trailer Park Dump, the most devastating flipping piledriver I’ve ever seen.

Krista smirks at the sight of Claude getting his comeuppance, quite amused by TPKid’s connection with his high impact finisher, one that has left Rose convulsing on the canvas. Black Magic Woman then steps in and assists her bloodied boy to his feet, TPKid leaning against him as the two back away from their vanquished foe.

Lewis then steps forward and stoops down over Claude, winking at the vile sycophant.

Krista: Now that…that was art.

Duct tape has wisely been placed over the mouth of Sparkles, keeping the vulgar puppet under control, for the time being at least. Normally Greyson Lovejoy would have a hard time containing his cohort, even with duct tape, but the sight of Kathryn Pearson joining them for an interview, has put Sparkles in an absolute trance…luring him into a lull like a serpent enchanted by a flute. The puppet’s head hangs to his side, completely enthralled by the image of the breathtaking Pearson…who in spite of not being booked for the evening, is adorned in her wrestling gear.

Lovejoy: IWC fandom, standing beside me is a woman who requires little introduction…

Pearson: And I’m not about to wait for an introduction either. I’ve got something to say….

The duct tape has fallen slightly off of Sparkles’ mouth, allowing his crude comments to be heard.

Sparkles: Please let it be something about breast augmentation.

The duct tape is urgently pressed back over Sparkles’ mouth, Lovejoy desperate not to let the incredulous behavior of his colleague get them into further trouble.

Lovejoy: Carry on.

Pearson: I’m pissed, Greyson….BEYOND pissed.

Lovejoy: To be fair, Sparkles once dated a woman who had breasts the size of two Prius…so don’t be offended by his inference to your chest size.

Pearson: That’s not what I’m so steamed about. I’m upset over the actions of Orlando Cruze last week…well…Cruze AND the Blacklist. They collaborated to steal what I worked my ass off to earn.

The reference to her backside has Sparkles leaning in to get a better glimpse.

Sparkles: Looks like you’ve still got a nice badonkadonk.

The tape is pressed even tighter over his lips.

Greyson: Industrial strength my ass!

Pearson: I went through absolute hell last week to win the X-Class number one contendership, and now…now I have to defend it because the Blacklist blackmailed a spineless Orlando into reversing the referee’s decision? What…on….what planet does that make sense? In what universe is this right? The word bullshit isn’t even strong enough to describe what that corrupt, power hungry asshole did to me last week.

Greyson: I believe we have footage of what your eluding to. Let’s roll it now…

Back to the puzzled face of Greyson Lovejoy, his eyes briefly connecting with Sparkles’ before they both quickly turn back to Pearson.

Greyson: Ooookay, that was clearly NOT the footage we were…You know what, I think I’ll just fill in the gaps myself.

He tries oh so desperately to remember what happened last week between Pearson, Cruze and the Blacklist.

Greyson: Last week, you won some sort of pants off dance off against the Blacklist to win the number one contendership for the Exlax Championship, but then they stole Orlando’s personality, and threatened to not return it until….

Pearson: Stop….just stop…please. Way to follow the product, Greyson.

Greyson: Yeah, sorry, remember, Sparkles is the one supposed to be conducting these interviews, but I knew if I let him speak to you, it would either end up in a sexual harassment or paternity lawsuit, neither of which I can afford on my meager wages.

Pearson: Anyhow, bottom-line, I’m upset. I didn’t work so hard to become number one contender just to have to turn around and now defend what I EARNED in a nonsensical triple threat tag match at Upping the Ante. Plus, I show up here, already motivated for a fight, only to learn I haven’t even been booked. Which I’m assuming is punishment for standing up to Orlando at the end of last week’s show.

Greyson: I believe we have footage of that…let’s see what your talking about. Production truck, please stream the footage.

A palm isn’t even sufficient enough to hide Lovejoy’s face. He peeks out from between the cracks of his fingers to gauge Pearson’s reaction.

Greyson: Erm…yeah. That was NOT the footage in question.

Pearson: Can this be a bigger train-wreck?

Greyson: Only if the tape falls off Sparkles’ mouth again.

Pearson: Well if I get my way, the Blacklist is gonna feel like they just endured a train wreck, because I’m challenging them….or to hell with it…ANYONE….to a fight tonight. I’ve got some aggressions to work out of my system, and I’m…..

She trails off the moment a sight grabs her attention off camera. She’s totally lost interest in Greyson and Sparkles, walking off and leaving Lovejoy to breathe a sigh of relief. Deeming it safe at this point, Lovejoy pulls the tape from Sparkles’ lips.

Sparkles: Boobs-tits-boobs-tit-boobs-tit!

Pearson doesn’t hear the filer-less Sparkles, her focus entirely on the figure who just exited a room a few feet away from the interview area. Brittany Lohan turns and closes the door, before reaching into her pocket for a set of keys.

Pearson: LOHAN!

Brittany’s attention shifts from locking the door to the face of Pearson.

Lohan: What? I have no time for you.

Pearson: Better make time, sweety, cause the two of us, we have a lot to talk about.

Lohan: Like what?

Her phone rings, further derailing Brittany’s attention from locking the door. She takes it out and sees Orlando’s glorious mug smiling back at her from the screen.

Lohan: Yeah, I’m on my way.

Pearson: Oh, I don’t know, maybe we should be discussing some kind of strategy for getting back our number one contenders spots. I noticed earlier tonight you took off with Lukas Montgomery. Seems to me, he’d make a wonderful bargaining chip. We could use him to lure the Blacklist to the ring and either beat them down mercilessly, or get them to back down on their….

Lohan: The purpose of taking Lukas was to find Tay-Tay, and that’s ALL he’s going to be used for.

Pearson: WHAT!?!

Kathryn is beside herself.

Pearson: Are you letting your friendship with the Blacklist sway you or something? Can I even trust you to be my tag team partner at Upping the Ante? Where we’re SUPPOSED to fight the Blacklist, and the Champions to get our title shots.

Lohan: That’s up to you. And my allegiances are none of your business, nor is what I do with Lukas. Now I’ve got a certain Icon to talk to.

Pearson: Really? The same son of a bitch who screwed us out of the championships just so he could take back his STOLEN World Title?

Lohan: One in the same.

Pearson: How could you?

Brittany takes an oh so threatening step in Kathryn‘s direction, predictably backing her up and backing her down.

Lohan: Ask yourself. Is this really the best time to get in my face?

Surprisingly Kathryn falls quiet, vividly recalling the path of destruction that Lohan carved over in Supreme Championship Wrestling. All Lohan is going to say has been said, turning and walking off, leaving Kathryn behind, dejected and disgruntled. Yet, even with her mixed emotions, Kathryn took notice of something that Brittany failed to do….lock the room she just exited. Tentatively Pearson twists the knob and pushes the door open, revealing Lukas Montgomery seated in a near pitch dark room, chained to the wheelchair with a wad of tissues stuffed in his mouth. Lukas’ eyebrow arches at the grin stretching over Pearson’s face.

Trenches plays in the background at the sight of a whistling P. Clarence Whitman III, weighed down equal parts by the X-Class Championship AND a bible. A ‘KKK’ t-shirt snuggly stretches over his torso, properly attired for his meeting with the very group holding a prayer circle behind a set of double doors. Whitman pauses inches removed from the doors reading ‘Kitty Kristian Kollective.’ He pauses only to pop a Mentos in his mouth, wink at the camera and then enter the room.

Dollar: He’s actually going through with it. P Clarence Whitman III, our X-Class Champion, instead of concentrating on his huge triple threat match tonight, is headed into Kitty Buehler’s Christian group…whathaveyounot.

Susie: I PRAY he has a good time. Hehehehehe, I just made such a funny that I almost pooped myself.

Dollar: Wonderful. As if that chair hasn’t been scrubbed enough. Well, we’ll follow this development, along with so many others as this night progresses.

The final padlock is snapped into place just as the parking lot becomes abuzz with the chatter of Jacob Laymon and his army of security guards. Executioner towers over the back of Laymon as the group descends upon Mr. Gaunt, who is in the process of chaining Silence over the door of the production truck.

Laymon: You’ve stepped in it this time, Gaunt.

Mr. Gaunt: MISTER Ga…oh forget it.

He gives a dismissive wave towards Laymon and his army.

Laymon: We’re not about to let you slip through our fingers like we did last week. This psychological warfare crap ends and ends right here tonight.

Mr. Gaunt: Psychological warfare you say? Who’s been employing such….

Laymon: Don’t even stand there PRETENDING to be stupid, Gaunt. You’ve been making my life a living hell for months now. Undermining my authority, and harassing all the talent that I personally signed. And for what gain….what gain!?!

Mr. Gaunt: My motivations are apparent to me, and that’s all that matters. Besides, I’m sure I’ve made my displeasure regarding the way you and Orlando handle my liege Legion, more than evident.

Laymon: Regardless, this comes to an end, right here, right now. And what in the….?

Before he can even finish his question or gesturing to Silence chained to the door, Mr. Gaunt gives a snappy explanation.

Mr. Gaunt: Mr. Hush will continue to fulfill his obligations one way or another. Perhaps if he aids you in properly running the audio and visual side of things, it’ll give you time to reflect on your many failures as the FORMER Head of Talent Relations, or as Orlando’s whipping boy.

Laymon: You think chaining Silence to the door is going to keep us from getting in that production truck. No…no….we’re the tank, you’re the naïve college student and this is our Tiananmen Square. The protest is about to be squashed through LETHAL force.

A grin forms on Laymon’s face.

Laymon: And it appears you’re not going to be able to do a thing about it. Looks like you’ve got no protection around. Mr. Hush is in the production truck, Silence is chained to the door, and as far as I can see there’s not a single sigil in sight. Did you think this one clearly, MISTER Gaunt. Seems you can’t summon Legion without one of your occult emblems, now does it?

Mr. Gaunt sighs, feigning defeat.

Mr. Gaunt: Looks like you’ve finally got me, Mr. Laymon.

Laymon: Was bound to happen eventually. Executioner….do your job and deal with this.

The monster steps forward to crush the throat of Mr. Gaunt with his bare hands. However, Leeland’s hand moves to his cane, ready to unsheathe his hidden blade.

Mr. Gaunt: Wait…

Laymon: Are you going to beg, Mr. Gaunt? I thought that we beneath you.

Mr. Gaunt: No. I was just going to remind you of one of Mr. Hush’s many talents. Not only is he quite proficient with audio and visual production, but he also has a knack for tattoo artistry. He showed just how talented he was last we…

Laymon: Yeah, yeah, we saw him tattoo Whitman, what the hell does it matter?

Mr. Gaunt: Actually I think his best work was done on Executioner.

Laymon’s head of security stops, as frozen as a mannequin, modeling the body language of a man truly bewildered. His masked face turns back to Jacob, who is equally as confused.

Laymon: Executioner never got a tat….

Mr. Gaunt: I think you might have been a bit too preoccupied by spider-LINGS to notice what Mr. Hush did while Executioner was sequestered to parts unknown.

Laymon: You didn’t.

Mr. Gaunt: No, Mr. Hush did, and frankly I’m surprised that neither you, nor Executioner have noticed.

Attention is squarely turned to Executioner.

Mr. Gaunt: Why don’t you raise your shirt there and allow everyone to see Mr. Hush’s artistry?

The baffled big man is reluctant to follow orders given by Gaunt, turning to his actual employer for advice. Laymon reluctantly nods, and as thus the shirt is pulled up to reveal that Executioner has been given a tramp stamp. The Black Crusade sigil has been stenciled right into the small of his back.

Laymon: You son of a bit….

He only stops in mid-tirade when the lights in the parking lot begin to flicker. One of the headlights on the production truck actually explodes, sparks dispersing through the air.

Mr. Gaunt: Oh please don’t stop…if you have something to say, then by all means get it off your chest….we still have a moment or two.

Laymon: Let’s go.

He has to tug on Executioner’s arm a few times in order to pull him away from Mr. Gaunt. The behemoth beams an intimidating gaze towards Gaunt throughout the whole process, refusing to break eye contact with the man he’d so like to leave in a pile of broken bones and busted organs.

Mr. Gaunt: Leaving so soon? What a shame.

Walking, but not to for the improvement of Christian Savior’s cardio vascular system. He steps back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, eagerly anticipating an answer to the call he just placed, cell wedged to his face with such force that it might result in instant brain tumors.

Christian: Hey, Rose….

Aggravated…all he could get was the message box of his wife, and World Heavyweight Champion, Rose Savior.

Christian: It’s me again, Babe. Just wondering if your still having those car issues you texted me about….Getting pretty late.

He pulls his wrist watch up in front of his face to determine the time.

Christian: Kind of a bad night to be running behind. First World Title defense, remember?

Who is he fooling, there’s no way he could stay angry with Rose, even if she were to bash his skull in with a Singapore cane…oh wait, been there, done that.

Christian: So get back to me if you need me to come and pick you up from the photo-shoot. No harm in admitting you let the car overheat…again….because you can’t remember to keep your coolants in check. Call me as soon as you get this message.

Call ends and Christian goes to step into his locker-room. The door opens and in he walks before finding his progression halted by the individual seated in a chair, casually flipping through the pages of a magazine. That individual being, co-number one contender, Silencer. Christian questions if he can get around Cagero without having to interact with him, but alas, Silencer has set up shop directly beside the Rising Phoenix’s locker. In spite of all his more sadistic impulses, which surprisingly seem to be triggered by Silencer’s presence, he tries to remain civil.

Christian: Simon…

Silencer: Douche-bag.

Christian takes a deep breathe and keeps on moving, not giving Silencer the slightest satisfaction. He moves right up to his locker and begins to remove his gear, ready to dress for competition. The belt from his slacks are removed before he stops and glances over his shoulder at Silencer, who is still seated right there, nose buried in the articles of the magazine.

Christian: Do you mind?

Silencer turns away from the magazine to give Christian a moment of his attention….just a moment.

Silencer: Adequacy issues?

Christian: Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for our little battle in the ring tonight?

He can’t help to take notice of the fact that Silencer is still wearing his street gear, sans long trench coat.

Silencer: Though none of your bizz…the airport misplaced my bags. So what you see, is what you get.

Christian: Fair enough, but don’t you have a runway show to put on or something?

Silencer: Meh, a little winded. Decided I’ll take it easy tonight and just settle for humiliating you in the ring.

Christian: How thoughtful of you. Now if only you’d be thoughtful enough to, I don’t know, turn your head for a moment.

Silencer: What’s wrong, can’t drop trou in front of other men? Don’t be so bashful.

Christian: Sorry, Simon, I’m not as eager to be in the buff around a bunch of dudes like you.

Silencer: I let it all hang out wherever I go and in front of whomever I want, Christian. Unlike you, I don’t hide anything.

Christian was right in the middle of unbuttoning his collared shirt when that last statement finally resonated with him.

Christian: And what was that supposed to mean? Leave it to you to be a contradiction, Cagero, you can’t exactly make a subtle statement while in the process of bragging about being entirely open.

Silencer: Oh I was getting around to the brutally honest part, Christian…give a man time to work.

Christian: Are you trying to imply that I’m hiding something?

Silencer: Ugh…

The magazine is thrown aside and he pinches the tissue between his eyes.

Silencer: Way to go and crap all over my thunder…But yeah, go ahead, do your obligatory rebuttal….And I’ll pretend that I’m listening instead of picturing your wife in a orgy with a dozen Bobs.

Christian: Nah, don’t think I’ll even bother indulging you, no point to it. Especially when it would involve defending myself against accusations I’ve already refuted a thousand times/.

He begins to mimic the smart marks with the most nasally tone he can generate.

Christian: ‘Ewww it’s Christian Savior, you just know he’s up to something, that he can’t be trusted, that he’s really not out to be a better person, to make the IWC a greater wrestling company, and that he’s only motivated by an insatiable greed for the championship’ And why would people think that? Just because I’ve backstabbed every individual who’s ever trusted me because it was all part of some dastardly scheme to get myself back into the World Title picture? Geez, talk about pigeonholding someone.

Silencer: If the shoe fits, Christian, if the shoe fits. Besides, you’ve got no reason to whine about being stereotyped when you do everything in your power to endorse said stereotypes. I on the other hand have been generalized as some loud mouth, childish, debauch rabble rouser with a fetish for paunchy loin clothe wearers smeared in ham grease, and yet I’ve done absolutely nothing to reinforce such a stigma.

Christian: Yeah…you’re a real victim, Simon.

Silencer: Glad you see it that way. And before any more of my brain-cells can be VICTIMIZED by way of listening to you, I’ve got a match to prepare myself for.

Silencer begins to rise from his chair and turns to leave, but Christian just HAS to have the parting shot.

Christian: You’re welcome by the way.

Out of some morbid intrigue, Cagero stops and turns back to the now shirtless Christian.

Silencer: And why would I be grateful for anything you’ve ever done? Unless you’re the guy who convinced Kathryn Pearson to start wearing a push-up bra I have no reason to thank you.

,font color= red>Christian: You forget already?

Silencer: Maybe. My brain is pretty rotted after repeated viewings of Taylor Chase’s camel-toe.

Christian: You forgot how I saved your ass at Awakening, how I kept you from losing that match against Orlando Cruze? And as thus guaranteed that the World Title would be defended in the tournament.

Silencer: Oh pffft.

He not only makes the farting noise, but also a masturbatory hand gesture.

Silencer: Give me a fucking break….

Christian If your not careful how you talk to me, maybe I will, Simon.

Silencer: Your intentions were about as noble as Orlando Cruze’s secret Prince Albert piercing. Everyone, even all the mnooses in all the parsely patches, recognize that you helped me not out of some noble pursuit…but to fulfill your own selfish desires of being the World Champion. I’m sure that if Orlando hadn’t beaten you to the punch with that whole Singapore Cane soap opera bullshit, you would have come up with some plot to screw your way to the World Championship. Which is exactly what Taylor is doing at the moment….

Christian: Eeeeassssy now, Simon….Why is it so hard to believe that I‘m a changed

man?

Silencer: Because no one truly changes.

Christian: Look at Orlando Cruze and tell me that.

Silencer is quick with the quips, but not this time. His eyes flicker and his mouth hangs open, no sounds emanating from it.

Silencer: Touche.

Christian: I’ve changed…I’ve grown up…now maybe you should give it a try.

Silencer: And how would a stuffy, high brow Silencer be any fun? Wouldn’t exactly be entertaining if I talked in the same robotic box head fashion as Nathan Creed. Or played things by the book….which probably doesn‘t even have nude pictures in it.

Christian: Touche.

Silencer: I’ll believe you’ve changed when I actually see it.

Christian looks himself up and down.

Christian: So your just going to stand there ogling me as I get out of my casuals and into my wrestling gear?

Silencer: Not LITERALLY change, you power hungry bag of dicks. I mean, once I face your wife for the championship….then we’ll see if you’ve REALLY turned the page. I know the lengths the two of you go to in order to hold the championship. But believe me, I‘ll go to equally as disturbing lengths in order to capture it.

Out of the room strolls Cagero, leaving Christian to think over what he just heard. That’s when the phone in his pocket begins to ring, Savior grabbing and eagerly answering.

Christian: Rose….where are you?….What?

He puts a finger in his other ear to drown any ambient noise

Christian: Are you going through a tunnel or something, I can barely hear you…The reception back here must be terrible….Rose….ROSE!?!

With a groan Christian pulls the phone away from his ear and sees that the call has been disconnected.

Christian: Damn you Apple!

He tries to strangle his I-Phone while stepping out of the room to get better reception, negligently leaving his locker wide open in the process. Attention diverts to said locker, or more accurately the shadow cast upon it. A set of gloved hands reaches out from behind said camera, slipping into the bag and removing an object.

Keys.

The fans are flummoxed regarding the odd choosing of theme music for Porno Lad, but the more it resonates with them, the more it makes sense. The Original Prankster storming to the stage, actually seems to appreciate the upgrade to his entry theme. With Katelyn Buehler at his side the two dart to the ring and the Original Prankster scales a nearby turnbuckle before throwing in a completely unnecessary back flip to bring him into the ring. Katelyn questions rather she should do the same, all amped up by the music piping in the background, finding inspiration in Mr. Hush’s version of Porno Lad’s theme music. PL implores her not to until he has the emergency room’s number on speed dial, given Katelyn’s predilection for botches.

Dollar: Some shenanigans backstage….

Susie: Not fair…how you keep getting to say that word. I love saying shenanigans.

Dollar: Then go ahead, say it, get it out of your system.

Susie: ShhhhhhenaniGANS! Te-he, I love it.

Dollar: Great…I really didn’t need those last two brain-cells anyway, so thanks for just killing them. And someone who might out to do some killing of his own, is this man, Porno Lad. The Original Prankster is being forced to team with the woman who held a knife to his girlfriend’s throat last week, and even worse, cut a piece of his hair off.

Susie: That was WRONG.

Dollar: And it was the first time we saw Porno Lad absolutely go apeshit
As a result. But now he’s got to try to forget that fact as he agreed to team with Cassidy one more time to challenge for the Tag Team Championships. I wonder why Cassidy has become so obsessed with Porno Lad.

Susie: Just look at him and tell me you’re not obsessed yourself.

With Katelyn Buehler encouraging him from ringside, staying right where Porno Lad can keep an eye on her, Porno Lad prepares for this huge opportunity, a shot to bring the Tag Team Titles back to his waist. It’s at this point that…

….sends the crowd into a conniption fit. No one quite knows how to react to either the theme music Mr. Hush handpicked for her, or the arrival of Cassidy Haze, the ever so enigmatic femme fatale, who has hazed….no pun intended…Porno Lad since her debut with the company.

But tonight it appears that she’s TRYING to smooth things over, evident by the present stretched under her forearm. She skips to the ring with the black and orange Jack Skeleton themed wrapping paper swaying from side to side. At last she hops to the apron and reveals a microphone tucked behind the present.

Susie: Is that a young Tommy Lee Jones doing her entrance theme? And awww, she brought me a present.

Dollar: I think that’s for Porno Lad, Susie.

Susie: Can I at least play with the paper and the box his gift came in?

Dollar: Depends on if you were a good girl this year. But we all know Cassidy is destined for a big old lump of coal this Christmas after everything she’s done in the short period of time she’s been here. Including holding a knife to Katelyn’s throat last week. Don’t know how she expects a present to help her win Porno Lad over after something like that.

Cassidy: Ethan…Baby-Doll….You don’t look happy to see me.

She juts out her lower lip and droops her eyes, trying to look as puppy dog as possible to little sympathy from the man who now stands directly in front of her in the ring. The only thing that keeps the two separated is the present in Cassidy’s arm.

Cassidy: I know I went and pee-peed in your cornflakes by threatening Katelyn, and by cutting off a lock of your hair last week, but I think we can get past this. I really do. I think…I KNOW I can make you love me again.

Buehler bites her lip at ringside, but her rage over Cassidy’s flirtation with Porno Lad is causing a ball of rage to slowly form in the pit of her stomach.

Cassidy: I COULD do it by offering some heart warming and meaningful apology, but after everyone witnessed Jessie Spano’s Emmy winning diatribe earlier tonight, I think their a little tired of all the drama. So I’ve decided I’ll buy your love by lavishing you with gifts, te-he.

The box is placed on the ground in front of Porno Lad, who suspiciously eyeballs it but makes no moves to open it. Wisely he plays things cautiously, having no idea what could be contained behind the decorate Nightmare Before Christmas wrapping paper.

Cassidy: What’s wrong? Awwww, you don’t trust me…lil ole me? What did I do to make you so paranoid? Was it kicking you in the head after you went for that hug a couple weeks ago, or leaving you high and dry for the most part at Awakening without a tag team partner? I promise you, Porno Lad, what I have here in the box will make up for all of that and make you see that I can be trusted. Here, if your THAT worried, I’LL open it for you.

Porno Lad makes no attempt to stop her, not trusting Cassidy as far as she can be tossed. She grabs the box, rips the paper away and then pries open the cardboard around her expensive gift. At last she removes what’s inside….

Susie: Please don’t be Gwyneth Paltrow’s head.

No bloodied blonde locks emerge from the box…but it is a head of hair that Cassidy extracts…a HUGE head of hair at that.

Cassidy: I got you a wig to cover up that train wreck on top of your head.

Not only is it a wig, but a MASSIVE black afro, with a hair pick wedged in it.

Cassidy: This will totally cover up that huge bald spot I left on your head. Here, try it on.

Porno Lad’s entire body has gone the shade of the substance he’d like to see oozing out of Haze right now. She detects his animosity but it doesn’t stop her from stepping right in and placing the wig on top of his head.

Cassidy: That does such a wonderful job of covering that rat nest you normally sport.

The crowd groans after every dig at Porno Lad’s hair, knowing that it’s his pride and joy…the source of all his happiness.

Dollar: Does Cassidy not realize just how much she’s antagonizing Porno Lad right now? His hair means more to him than the children he doesn’t have.

Susie: I like the afro. He can form a tag team with Disco Ninja. They can call themselves Those Disco Lads. My God if I were a man I’d have a total erection right now.

Porno Lad’s trembling fingers rise towards the afro, ripping it off of his head.

Cassidy: I knew you’d love it. Now come here and give me some sugar.

She stoops over and puckers her lips, but it’s not a kiss she receives. Instead it’s a spear right to the ribs, delivered by none other than Katelyn Buehler.

Dollar: Buehler has had enough! She just speared Haze right out of her boots!

Susie: I call dibs on them, their made of leather and all shiny.

The fans are going nuts at the sight of the cat fight as both Haze and Buehler roll around on the canvas throwing wild right and lefts, some not even connecting. At last they spill under the ropes to the outside of the ring, where Porno Lad pitches the afro, making sure it hits Haze in the back. Things only get more chaotic when… Mancrush Anniversary Mix plays over the PA, another Mr. Hush selection, and instantly through the curtains charges both Bash Kincaid and Hugo Magnusson.

Dollar: And here comes the tag team champions, seizing on this opportunity!

Adam Chase is following behind his clients, screeching instructions as Bash and Hugo throw down their tag team title belts on the ramp then slide into the ring. Porno Lad surprisingly charges right at them scooping the legs of Magnusson out from under him and then coming down on top of the Tag Champion, throwing rights, lefts, anything that will connect. Bash steps over Porno Lad’s back and grabs him around the jaw, pulling him up to his knees then throwing a huge forearm into the side of his skull.

Dollar: Hugo Magnusson and Bash Kincaid all over Porno Lad. They’re taking advantage, yet again, of another two on one predicament that Porno Lad finds himself trapped in.

Outside of the ring Haze has reached into her corset and reveals a switchblade. She brandishes it to the horror of Buehler, who scoots in terror away from the crazed lady, defensively holding out palms and pleading for her life. Cassidy grins and returns the knife where she got it before hopping to the apron, ignoring the non-threat that is Katelyn at this point. Referee Fitzpatrick at last intervenes and gets in front of Hugo, who was stomping at the chest of Porno Lad while Bash held his arms behind his back and insists he leaves the ring.

Magnusson threatens to pummel the official, but Fitzpatrick will not back down and instead squares up on the Tag Team Champion. At last Magnusson exit’s the ring and now it actually resembles a straight up tag title match with all parties precisely where their supposed to be. Hugo is his corner, Cassidy is in her corner and Porno Lad, from his knees is flipping Bash over his back and to the canvas.

Chase shouts from the outside of the ring at Kincaid to get back up, which is precisely what he does, lunging to his feet and charging with a right hand into Porno Lad’s face that is blocked. PL then connects with an uppercut of his own, followed by another, and then another, and then another. He then spins around and takes Bash down with a big discus lariat, fueling all his rage directed at Cassidy into the blows he delivers on Bash.

Dollar: I think Katelyn Buehler just lit a fire under Porno Lad’s ass.

Susie: I had a fire under my ass one time too, but they said it was just hemorrhoids.

Dollar: Another totally appetite suppressing comment, Susie, thank you.

Lad is up and looking for a victim…who is Hugo to deny him. Magnusson leaps the ropes and comes charging in to aid his partner only to be caught with a big Atomic drop, planting Hugo down crotch first onto Porno Lad’s raised knee. The Original Prankster then leaps into the air and dropkicks Magnusson to the chest, sending him spiraling into the turnbuckle. He hits it hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs and leave him momentarily debilitated.

All the while Porno Lad is getting back to his feet and charging in with a huge lariat to the throat. It isn’t enough to take Hugo down, he remains upright, albeit swaying from side to side, ABOUT to go down at any moment.

Flustered…Porno Lad turns and takes off across the ring to build momentum for a second lariat only to run right into Bash, who stands up and goes for a clothesline of his own. Porno Lad ducks, stands up, grabs Kincaid as he passes by around the jaw then drops into a reverse neck breaker that has the crowd screaming.

Dollar: Porno Lad REALLY taking it to TCWC…those insults directed at his hair have him homicidal.

A pumped Porno Lad leaps back to a standing base and then turns just as Hugo rushes out of the corner and almost rips his head off with a dashing European Uppercut. The blunt force trauma lifts Porno Lad up off of his feet and sends him flying back first into the turnbuckle. He hits the corner hard, arms falling over the ropes, allowing Haze to make the tag. She then leaps to the top rope above a kneeling Porno Lad, while Hugo is helping Bash stand up and dust himself off.

Porno Lad suddenly looks up and spots a cackling Haze towering above him, prompting him to react out of sheer spite and malice. He stands up, wedges hands to Cassidy’s stomach and throws her off the top rope, unintentionally pitching her into a cross body on both Bash and Hugo, taking the TCWC down to the canvas with Cassidy landing on top.

Porno Lad will not allow her to slip through his clutches that easily. He stands up and rushes right at Cassidy, who stands just in time to catch her inbound partner with a drop toe hold, causing him to plummet skull first right into Kincaid’s crotch. Bash sits up, grabbing at his swollen genitalia while the referee jumps all over Porno Lad, insisting he vacate the ring.

Porno Lad rolls free from the squared circle, a little shaken up after his head took a great deal of trauma, and will now require a thorough washing. Once outside of the ring he actually requests a towel from a fan, using it to scrub his face while inside of the ring Bash is also getting a face scrubbing, from the boots of Cassidy. She bounces off the ropes and drills him with a basement dropkick to the skull while he was still seated on the canvas. Not anymore, he’s on his back and reeling from the facial rearranging collision.

Haze then leaps to her feet before going airborne with a big double stomp right to the ribs of her opponent. Bash rolls to his side, gripping at his mid-section while Cassidy staggers forward into the ropes, a bad position for her, because it puts her in position for Hugo.

Magnusson had retaken his place in his team’s corner, but only for a moment, unable to keep from taking full advantage of his opponent’s positioning. He rushes across the apron, grabs Cassidy by the back of the head and charges her across the ring face first into the apron. She bounces off and staggers back while Porno Lad takes Hugo by the ankle, ripping his leg out from under him. Magnusson’s face takes a violent impact as well, against the apron. His head snaps back and he collapses to the mats./

Porno Lad conversely, leaps to the apron, about to re-enter the ring only to be knocked off by Haze of all people. Bash recovered long enough to reach his knees, wedge his hands against a discombobulated Cassidy and shove her right into Porno Lad. The moment her back hits his chest the Original Prankster is not only sent sailing, but twisting right into the barricade.

He turns and crashes directly against the steel sternum first. Immediately after bouncing off the apron and turning back towards the ring he falls into the clutches of Hugo. Magnusson scoops him up onto his shoulder, displaying his freakish strength and then throws him up into the air, ultimately causing the Original Prankster to crash throat first onto the barricade.

Dollar: And just like that Porno Lad taken out of the equation. I think we all know who he’s going to blame for this.

Susie: Oh no, not equations, anything but equations. They make me use my brain, which causes bad nose bleeds.

Dollar: Multiple collisions with that barricade have Porno Lad spent. But then again, longevity has apparently never been an issue for the Original Prankster.

But Porno Lad’s plight is yet at an end, Hugo grabbing his shoulder, spinning him around to take his wrist and then whipping him violently into the exposed turnbuckle post. Porno gets a taste AND a second helping of steel, the meeting of mouth to post sending him twirling to the mats.

Dollar: And ANOTHER collision with the post!

Susie: Ethan just went deep throat on the steel.

Porno Lad doesn’t fair very well outside of the ring, and his opponent isn’t doing any better within. After sending her tag team associate into the barricade, by accident (?), she rushes out of the ropes at a still kneeling Kincaid. She is just about to unload on him when Bash drives the top of his head right into her inbound ribs. He then stands up and delivers a devastating running forearm to the side of her skull. Cassidy twists to her knees and into the ropes, falling over the middle one throat first. Hugo spots this, running across the mats and grabbing Cassidy around the back of the head, dragging down on it so that her neck is being strangled against the cable.

Dollar: No tactics too low for Kincaid and Hugo, which is why I predict these two will hold the Tag Team Titles for a very…very long time to come.

Susie: I’d do nothing short of kill someone to retain a sparkly. Which would explain why I spent much of my youth in that mental facility.

Dollar: Explains a lot. I’m guessing your on weekend furlough at the morning.

When Fitzpatrick spots Hugo it’s too late. Just moments before he can intervene, Magnusson nails a lethal European Uppercut…not to the jaw…but to her forehead. The shot sends Cassidy to her feet, body not responding to the many misfiring synapses within her brain. She goes staggering right back into Kincaid, who takes her by the shoulder, spins her around and delivers a big knee to the ribs, putting her a stooped forward, very bad position.

Kincaid then runs into the ropes, bounces off and delivers a swift kick to the side of Haze’s skull. The shot sends her spiraling down to knees, and throat into the middle rope. She falls over it and Chase immediately delivers a straight right hand between her eyes, capitalizing on Fitzpatrick’s distraction as the official is still lambasting Hugo for his earlier underhanded tactics.

Dollar: Again, the TCWC employing the number’s game to their advantage, this is total McDonald’s….I’m loving it!

Susie: Wow…just wow…if I were capable of having that erection I spoke about earlier, you just killed it.

Fitzpatrick finally turns back to the ring just in time to see Cassidy stumbling backwards into the waiting clutches of her opponent. By the shoulder Haze is spun around, caught about the waist and then heaved into a belly to belly slam. Bash comes down right across Cassidy’s chest and wedges a forearm against his much smaller opponent’s face.

1

2

Physical punishment and tests of her endurance are not unaccustomed to Haze, hence why she kicks out with such gusto.

Bash takes that fight right out of her, applying a sleeper hold on Haze then heaving her right up to her feet in a sleeper hold. He then begins to spin in circles, actually lifting Cassidy’s feet from the canvas in the process of the giant swing. Instead of clutching the legs he maintains his grip around Haze’s throat though, the sleeper hold firmly applied. After making several rotations Bash releases Haze, throwing her half way across the ring.

Even after being released, Haze makes several revolutions then ultimately crashes into the canvas.

Dollar: That is nothing but strength, Susie.

Susie: He must hit the gym…I use to…until I was doing squats and farted so violently I popped my hymen.

Dollar: Disgusting on so many levels.

Bash grabs Cassidy’s legs, tucks them under his armpits and drags her towards his corner. Hugo reaches over the ropes, slapping his partner’s shoulder, setting up their big tag team move. The next step, Bash dropping back into a catapult that launches Cassidy’s face right into a punch that seemingly knocks her out.

Cassidy falls back and lands with the small of her back arched over Kindcaid’s raised knees. Hugo is now entering the ring and rushing into the ropes, bouncing off as he gets a running start for the same lethal tag move we saw the team employ several weeks ago.

Dollar: Hugo moments from double stomping and shattering Cassidy’s totally exposed ribs. This is going to be gruesome.

Chase watches on with delight…before his reaction changes to disgust at the sight of Porno Lad reaching under the ropes and catching Hugo by the ankle as he attempted to ricochet from the cables. Once again Hugo shows off his incredible strength, reaching over the ropes, grabbing Porno Lad by the HAIR and utilizing it to hoist him right up onto the apron.

The moment Porno Lad lands on the apron he swipes the hands away from his hair and turns redder than a tampon on a certain time of the month….okay…that was a totally unnecessary comparison. Anyways, Porno Lad is pissed…ROYALY POED…in fact.

Porno Lad: No one touches my hair, BITCH!

Porno Lad nails the jaw of Magnusson with a hard right hand, sending him staggering backwards towards Haze. She suddenly reaches up and catches Magnusson by the hips, dragging him down so that he lands back first right across his own tag team partner’s chest. Haze sits up off of Bash’s knees and then flips forward into a jack-knife cover. The crowd applauds the very unusual and unorthodox move they’re witnessing, Haze sretched over Hugo’s chest back first, holding down the creases of his knees, while Magnusson lies on top of his own tag team partner…his back to Bash’s chest.

Dollar: What the hell are we seeing here?

Susie: Something straight out of one of Porno Lad’s fantasies.

The official makes the count to wails from the crowd.

1

2

Hugo wraps his arms around Cassidy’s waist and begins to bridge himself AND the challenger off the canvas. He almost goes down but then Bash lifts his feet into the air, and wedges them to Hugo’s spine, giving him that added leverage necessary to finish bridging back to a standing base.

Once upright, still keeping his arms wrapped around Cassidy’s waist, Hugo spins around, putting his opponent in a very bad spot. Cassidy is stooped over in power bomb position, Magnusson lifting her up into the air and onto his shoulders. Just before Haze can be slammed with bone breaking impact against the canvas, she wedges her hands to the top of Hugo’s head and shoves herself over. She then comes down with her own double stomp right onto Bash’s chest.

Dollar: Hugo was going for the power bomb, but it ended in disaster, as he set up Cassidy perfectly for that double stomp on his own partner.

Susie: There’s so much going on, this is like an episode of Lost, where I pretend to be fascinating by what’s going on, but am really just amazed by all the flashy colors.

Cassidy bounces off the ribs of Kincaid then leaps forward, landing on her feet. She then drops back, rolling right over top of her opponent in order to extend her legs and wrap them around Hugo’s neck, the second he turned to survey the damage that he had done. The legs interlock around Hugo’s head and Haze pushes herself up into the air, swinging around into the head scissors.

The crowd goes nuts as she drags Hugo around into rotation after rotation after rotation. She is just about to snap off when a fed up Bash reaches his feet and dives into her temple with a lethal knee strike.

Her flashy moves pays off, but not as she had intended, leaving her looking concussed on the canvas.

Dollar: She just swung herself right into that devastating knee strike from Kincaid. The Tag Champions constantly watching each other’s backs and they’ve got the challengers on their heels.

Susie: But I thought the TCWC were the heels.

Dollar: When did you learn insider lingo?

Susie: Around the same time they stopped airing reruns of Boy Meets World. Forced me to start paying attention.

The crowd recites their Pavlovian response, screeching incessantly at the sight of Haze’s head almost twisting right off her neck as a result of the knee. A knee that may have just kept the tag team titles right where they are, around the trim waists of the TCWC.

Hugo falls into the cover, both legs hooked for the pinfall.

1

Porno Lad tries to get into the ring but Bash cuts him off by grabbing him via his bangs, lifting up on his head and driving an elbow into his temple. The Original Prankster spills to the outside of the ring and then reaches up, clawing at his hair. His face twists into a mask of rage when it’s revealed that one hair is missing, stuck between the fingers of Kincaid.

2

The ref’s hand doesn’t come down for the three on account of a shocking kick out by Haze.

Dollar: Cassidy keeps her team alive…But it’s almost a foregone conclusion at this point that neither she nor Porno Lad are walking out here with the belts. These two just can’t get on the same page. Besides, you know my stance on singles wrestlers grouped together trying to beat a well oiled machine.

Susie: Yeah…the TCWC do look like they put way too much baby oil on before this match. Makes them almost look slimy.

Hugo is downright deranged after the kick-out, surprisingly be the one to lose his cool. He shouts at Bash to get into position while taking Haze around the ankle, flipping her to her stomach then heaving her into the air by the waist into a wheel barrow position. Bash slaps his knee and rushes into the ropes to deliver another devastating strike only to be low bridged. He goes flipping over the top rope thanks to Porno Lad, landing on the mats feet first. The second Bash lands, Porno Lad dives off the apron and connects knee first with his opponent’s face, driving the Tag Champion down to the canvas.

Meanwhile, inside of the ring Haze reaches back with her arm, wrapping it around Hugo’s neck and trying to connect with a reversal into the bulldog out of the wheelbarrow position. However, Magnusson shoves her off, sending Haze flying forward but eventually landing on her feet. She then surprises everyone, Hugo in particular, by dropping back into a roll and extending her legs, wrapping ankles around the Champion’s neck. She pushes herself off the canvas and begins to rotate over and over again, dragging Hugo around repeatedly before eventually capping off with the head scissors take down. Magnusson flips over and crashes to his back while the fans surprisingly go crazy for a move that Haze hit.

Dollar: She nails the head scissors take down at long last. But it’s all a false glimmer of hope here. I’m telling you singles wrestlers, especially ones who don’t get along, are not going to beat a tag team that has been together for years. The TCWC has proven that over and over again.

Susie: Yeah but….

Dollar: Hold that thought…ha…forgot who I was speaking to…as if you actually have thoughts, because Porno Lad is going ballistic out here again.

Susie: I noticed that Bash took one of his hairs.

Porno Lad grabs Kincaid by the hair, pulling him up to his feet and then driving him down face first into the announce table.

Dollar: He’s going nuts right out here in front of us.

Porno Lad pulls back and drives Bash’s face against the announce table again, and again, and again. He’s obviously lost any semblance of composure. Bash is all over the place, looking like positively tipsy. He staggers around before falling right back into Porno Lad’s clutches. The Original Prankster takes the shoe off the foot of ring announcer Jessica Wilde, who shouts ‘rape’ instinctively. All Porno Lad wants is her high heel though, so he can take it ram it right against Bash’s skull, knocking him totally unconscious. He falls over the announce table, sprawled across it.

Porno Lad throws the shoe aside and crawls on top of the table, placing Bash in a side headlock as he delivers punch after punch after punch to his face. Cassidy watches from the inside of the ring, and really seems to be enjoying the show. A grin the size of Jupiter’s rings wraps around her face as she witnesses Porno Lad totally flip out.

Cassidy: I knew you had it in you my love.

Her distraction proves costly, as Hugo steps in behind her and hooks both arms. The crowd screams as Magnusson heaves Cassidy up into the air for the full nelson, the very move that bested her at the pay-per-view. At literally the last second Haze breaks an arm free and reaches back, wrapping it around Hugo’s neck and then dropping down into a bulldog counter. Magnusson’s skull bounces right off of the ring and he flips to his back, Haze crawling right into the cover.

Susie: Ewww, Hugey’s face nailed the ring. That was a major ouch-stravaganza.

Dollar: Can someone please get Porno Lad and Bash Kincaid off of our announce table already? I can’t work under these unsafe conditions.

The two are going nowhere, but are switching positions. Porno Lad ends up on his back and Bash is on top now, raining down blow after blow to the face.

Inside of the ring Magnusson is in a bad way, Haze throwing her whole body weight, which doesn’t account for much, across his chest. Fitzpatrick is out of position though, thanks in no small part to Chase, who fulfills his managerial duties by leaping to the apron and trying to get into the ring. Fitzpatrick puts up a roadblock, keeping him contained to the apron, but also missing the potential three count.

At last Haze realizes no count is being made to acknowledge her pin. She stands up and begins to alert the official before realizing that she can take full advantage of his distraction. She runs to the outside of the ring and snatches the chair right out from under Wilde, causing her to tumble to her rump.

Jessica: Seriously!?!

Wilde feels thoroughly violated as Haze walks right past both Bash and Porno Lad rolling around on the mats exchanging a wild series of punches. She then leaps to the apron and slides through the ropes with chair in hand.

Dollar: This is NOT a good idea, Cassidy…steel chairs have been instrumental in every single one of the TCWC’s victories since their debut here in the IWC.

Haze slides through the ropes but finds the steel chair in her hand snagged on something. She turns and finds herself genuinely enraged at the sight of Katelyn clutching the chair, refusing to allow her to introduce it into the match.

Katelyn: You’re NOT getting my man disqualified you zombie slut!

The chair is ripped out of Katelyn’s clutches by the stronger Haze, who then reaches through the ropes and pie faces Buehler down to the mats right alongside Jessica Wilde. The two help each other to their feet, innocent victims caught in this all out war. Haze then turns, stooped over the chair in her hands when Hugo steps in, catches her around the neck and drops back into an oh so devastating DDT. The top of Cassidy’s head slams right into the chair, causing her to flop over to her back and look absolutely spent.

Susie: Ewww, the chair turns on the hand that feeds.

Dollar: I love to say it, “told you so.” The chair aiding the TCWC to another victory.

Hugo wedges a forearm deep into Cassidy’s face, adding insult to his pin-fall. Chase finally clears dodge, allowing the referee to make the count.

1

2

The fans watch as Hugo picks up a major….blow to his ego…cause Cassidy kicks out a mere fraction of a second before the three. Hugo demands a recount, as does Chase, shouting furiously from the outside of the ring.

,Dollar: Are you….my God…Cassidy Haze kicks out.

Hugo is on his knees running his hands over his bald scalp, in total disbelief that he failed to pick up the win even after employing the chair…a weapon instrumental in many of their victories here in the IWC thus far.

Outside of the ring Porno Lad and Bash are back on their feet and the Original Prankster is being whipped right at the steel steps. But the Original Prankster does a headstand carthwheel right over top of them, his rage fueling him to do some truly remarkable things. Bash comes running in when Porno Lad dropkicks the steps, sending them flying into Kincaid’s shins, knocking his legs right out from under him. He tumbles right over the steps and collapses to his back.,

Hugo spots this, sticking his head through the ropes and shouting at Porno Lad, who quickly rushes at the top half of the stairs, steps up them and leaps off, putting just one foot on the apron in order to deliver a modification of the Epic Fail, his lethal spinning super kick. Magnusson is sent spiraling to the center of the ring, where Haze has recovered and is waiting. She spins around and cracks him to the back of the head with the Segregated Minds.

The strike knocks Hugo completely and totally out cold, sending him plummeting to the canvas on the very face that tasted the Original Prankster’s boot.

Dollar: Epic Fail followed by the Segregated Minds! Haze and Porno Lad have got it, they’ve got…the tag team titles are within their grasp…What the hell is Haze doing? Go for the pin you psycho bitch!

The crowd is screaming and pleading with Haze to cover Hugo, but instead she’s focused on one thing, crawling towards the ropes that Porno Lad is standing on opposite end of.. He has Bash up to his knees, repeatedly throwing right hands into his forehead. In the process of crawling towards her partner, Haze has picked up some of the hairs that Kincaid tore out of Ethan’s head, extending them towards the scalp of her partner.

The moment she tries to put the hairs back on Porno Lad’s head, he turns around and in a furry lifts his boot as high as it will go, nailing her between the eyes with the Epic Fail.

Dollar: Porno Lad did it again! He just hit Cassidy with the Epic Fail a second time in the midst of their tag title match!

Susie: No one touches Porno Lad’s hair, no one.

The spinning super kick nails Cassidy right between the eyes and sends her slumping to the ring. Before Porno Lad can get back in the ring to make up for his lapse in judgment, he’s grabbed around the ankle by Bash and pulled off the apron. Porno Lad then comes crashing down face first right into the top half of the stairs he employed as a weapon moments earlier. He bounces off and collapses to his side while in the ring Hugo has managed to crawl towards Haze and collapse across her chest.

Dollar: Don’t tell me…it’s gonna end like this…it’s gonna end like this AGAIN!?!

Susie: What would you rather me tell you. That they’re re-releasing Master of Disguise on Blue-Ray collector’s box-set?

Dollar: Actually go back to telling this match is going to end like this.

The referee at last drops into position and makes the count to a wave of unanimous despair.

1

2

3!

The Epic Fail has done the trick again…but to the detriment of Porno Lad and his partner, Haze.

Dollar: Hugo and Bash…they’ve retained…they hold onto the Tag Team Titles by hook or crook.

Susie: Emphasis on the crook part.

The masses are quite upset when the referee’s hand comes down and slaps the canvas a third time, cementing the fact that the TCWC have just retained the Tag Team Titles, the very belts that Chase is sliding into the ring with.

There is no time for celebration as Hugo and Chase find their attention turning towards Kincaid and Porno Lad rolling back into the ring, still throwing rights and lefts into one another’s faces. Porno Lad ends up in the mounted position, sitting on Bash’s chest and delivering a series of lethal combinations.

Dollar: Porno Lad still flipping out on Bash for ripping one of his hairs out.

Susie: You do not mess with this man’s fro.

Hugo tries to intervene, stepping in to deliver a kick only to have Porno Lad catch it before it connects. He stands up and then delivers an inside leg trip on Magnusson, bringing him down to the canvas. He then begins to deliver stomp after stomp to his chest and face. Hugo desperately tries to cover up but nothing protects him from the onslaught by a deranged and disgruntled Porno Lad. He then turns his attention to Chase, who was shouting discouraging comments at the Original Prankster right up to the point where he was finally noticed. Now his insults have been replaced by pleas for leniency. He backs towards the ropes, palms outstretched, moments form feeling the wrath of Porno Lad.

Dollar: Oh come on…nobody touches, Chase…nobody puts their hands on the manager of champions…..nobody.

PL reaches out to lock hands around Chase’s neck when Hugo and Bash interrupt the proceedings, delivering a double forearm smash to his upper back. Porno Lad is brought to his knees where the TCWC begin delivering stomps.

Dollar: Adam Chase doing what he does best, creating a distraction that puts his clients back in control.

The TCWC continue their onslaught on Porno Lad, bringing him down to his stomach before they spot Cassidy standing up in the corner with a switchblade in her hand. She opens it and approaches the two with knife drawn, causing the Tag Team Champions to vacate the ring and do so in a hurry. They land beside Chase, who shoves the titles into the chests of his clients. The three wisely back away, unwilling to suffer any further physicality.

Chase: You two are needed elsewhere tonight, we have to find Tay-Tay dammit.

He drags the Champions away from a potential fight with the blade wielding Cassidy. She turns to Porno Lad at this point, her tongue licking the tip of her trusted ally, the knife.

Cassidy: I think I’ll carve my initials in you…That way you’ll never forget your precious Cassidy.

She approaches with the most sickening intent imaginable, actually slicing her name into the flesh of Porno Lad. Once again Katelyn is forced to interfere to prevent any further mutilation. She slips into the ring and crawls right into her love, wrapping her arms around his neck, putting her body between Cassidy and the Original Prankster.

Dollar: Buehler AGAIN throwing herself in harm’s way in order to prevent a Porno Lad dissection. She’s grown a backbone, but Cassidy might carve it right out of her.

Her lips tremble in terror, tears streaming down her face as she realizes she’s going to potentially be mutilated by…wait…Cassidy stops…coming to a complete standstill. In fact, she’s now back peddling away from Buehler, who at last opens her eyes when she hears the change in the crowd’s tune. She then looks right at Haze, a smile forming on her face as she realizes that Cassidy must be afraid of her. Buehler stands up over top of a recovering Porno Lad and puts her fists up, Haze raising a palm defensively and mouthing the words “I want no part of you.” She then rolls out of the ring while Buehler nods her head.

Katelyn: That’s right, you DON’T want any part of me. I’ll tear you to….

She stops…coming to a complete standstill, In fact, she’s now turning as the hair on the back of her neck stands on edge upon feeling breath down the nape of her spine. Upon turning around she finds herself staring into the eyes of….DUCKY…SCW’s deranged, truly demented goddess of chaos.

Dollar: Holy mother of God, tell me I’m not seeing what I think I am. Tell me this ISN’T true. Tell me that DUCKY is not standing in an IWC ring.

Buehler backs up pale as a sheet at the sight of Ducky, who just watches instead of reacts. Her head tilts to such an angle one would suspect that it’s going to twist completely around in a full 360 degree circle. Buehler’s heart is beating through her chest as she backs right into one of the turnbuckles, holding a hand over her quivering lips. Porno Lad looks up and spots Ducky standing above her, prompting him to slap his cheek to make sure he’s actually awake.

Dollar: THIS is actually happening, Ducky, or one of her fifteen million split personalities is here…in the IWC…and she’s glaring down Katelyn…a woman who is absolutely TERRIFED of her.

Susie: Ducky…her name is ducky? Can I take her to the bath with me?

Dollar: Sure a lot of cameras would LOVE to film that scene.

In spite of Ducky doing absolutely nothing, save for staring emotionlessly, Katelyn’s already cowering in the corner weeping like a frightened child.

Mr. Gaunt: Mrs. Buehler…

To the stage strolls Leeland Gaunt, cane in one hand, microphone in the other.

Dollar: And as if this couldn’t get any more confusing? I swear, Gaunt better be here to give us some damned answers or I’ll totally flip my lid.

Mr. Gaunt: Allow me to introduce the opponent you agreed to face last week…I believe you know her as Nicole Kinneck…or perhaps her wrestling handle….Ducky…would be more familiar to you.

Katelyn: No….NOOOOOO….NOOOOOO!!!

Ducky smiles ever so slightly as she watches Buehler have a major league freak-out.

Mr. Gaunt: Oh, and Mrs. Buehler, before I forget to mention it. Your match against Ducky here…and yes, I will drop the necessity for a prefix, cause calling her MRS. Ducky, just sounds totally ridiculous…will be contested this evening under no disqualification rules. Enjoy ladies.

Dollar: My God, I didn’t know Mr. Gaunt was THIS cruel. He’s forcing Buehler to face the ultimate fear, battling Ducky in a match where there will be no rules, absolutely nothing to keep this demented SCW combatant in check. What’s going to happen when these two collide here tonight?

Susie: It’s gonna be messy.

Dollar: VERY messy.

Lohan: He’s right back here, Orlando…been keeping him on ice precisely as you requested.

Orlando: Good…good.

It’s not often that Orlando looks positively out of sorts, brow heavy with sweat, and pigment faded from his skin, but the plight of Taylor Chase has clearly effected him. His tie is gone, his collar in disarray and his shirt unbuttoned around the neck, feeling as if it was strangling the life out of him.

Orlando: Has he told you anything? Has he given you any clues as to where…

Lohan: He gave me this.

A document is taken from Brittany’s pocket and handed straight over to the disheveled Cruze as the pair stops right outside the door containing Montgomery. Orlando is almost shaking too bad to open the paper, slowly unfolding it.

Orlando: Seriously?

Lohan: That’s what I said.

Orlando: I’m not even….I can’t process this….just let me talk to Montgomery.

Lohan: I left some tools in the room, to help break the ice with ole blue eyes.

Orlando: Good.

The document is stuffed in Cruze’s pocket while the door at his side flies open, revealing the contents of the room….only there are NO contents…it’s completely empty….meaning there’s no wheelchair…there’s no chains…there’s no Lukas Montgomery.

Orlando: Is this some kind of trick?

The base in his voice would normally result in a crowbar being rammed up his ass by Lohan, but she realizes that this is a very emotionally turbulent time for everyone, Orlando especially. So she lets this one slide….for now.

Lohan: You better not be the second person to accuse me of working with….

Her voice trails off as she suddenly has an epiphany.

Orlando: What is it?

Lohan: Pearson.

Orlando: What?

Lohan: I’ll take care of this.

Orlando: No….I’m through depending on others….You fucked this up, Brittany. And now, because of you, Tay-Tay is laying somewhere bleeding out…and that psychopath Harrison is STILL walking around with MY Championship.

It takes every fiber of Lohan’s being to allow these continuous jabs to just slide down her back. She keeps a stiff upper lip even as Orlando rips into her verbally…opposite of the way she’d rip into someone.

Orlando: I’m going to deal with this one way or another. I’m getting back my Tay-Tay.

Off and running…yes…running…Orlando dashing to the aide of his love. All the while Brittany is left behind…both plotting and watching.

P.Clarence Whitman III watches through a pair of sunglasses as a figure sits on a small, make-shift dais, pouring his heart out to a sympathy Kitty.

One drink would lead to another, and then another…..and I thought they would make my happy. That they would fill the void in my life. But when I found myself on my knees in some back alley, I realized that all the alcohol in the world would never be enough to replace what was truly missing in my life.

Tears began to stream down his cheeks, past the shaving cuts and razor bumps.

Kitty: Thank you so much for sharing, Jack. Hopefully Jesus can help you fill that void.

In spite of the many physical abnormalities plaguing the artist formerly known as Wino-Jack’s face, Kitty still puts a hand to his cheek and pulls his head down to her shoulder, giving him a hug. Though she’ll probably need mass quantities of penicillin after said embrace. A round of applause goes up for the truly courageous older man who poured his heart and soul out…but now pours nothing but tears. Everyone seated in a circle around the stage clap, save for one man, the individual graced by the X-Class Championship. He offers a totally different response.

Whitman: ZZZZZZZ.

Everyone takes notice of Whitman’s snoring, prompting a smiling Lois Prince to nudge him hard with her elbow. Whitman snaps out of it and immediately wipes the embarrassing sliver of drool from his chin.

Whitman: Praise ALLAH.

Whitman shouts before realizing his verbal faux pas.

Whitman: I mean…ummm…that wonderful bearded chap, with the sandals and such. Yes, praise him, with chips and whine and so forth.

The incredibly embarrassed Whitman is so frantic he actually forgets the name of the lord and savior. Lois puts a palm on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. She doesn’t judge, but the same cannot be said for Kitty.

Kitty: Perhaps you’d like to take this opportunity to open up to us, Whitman…

As if he couldn’t get anymore uncomfortable.

Whitman: In….what….way?

Lois: She wants you to confess your sins.

Kitty: Indeed. There’s nothing better for the soul than confession.

Whitman: Oh…well….I’m not sure that I.

Kitty: Clarence….it’s alright for me to call you that, right?

Whitman: I thought we got past all that first name basis non-sense last week.

Kitty: If you truly want to be welcomed into God’s arms in the afterlife, and are serious about joining our cause, I…

Whitman: Alright, dear, I don’t want to be seen as some ponce, and it seems you have me by my Bell End.

From his chair rises the X-Class Champion.

Whitman: Do I need to stand…or place my hand over my heart?

Lois: That’s for the pledge of allegiance, not confession.

Whitman: Oh, so are there any customs I need adhere to.

Lois: Just be honest, Whitman.

Kitty: We’re all waiting.

He looks around at all the impatient faces staring at him, but turns away from Wino-Jack’s, which looks worse than a combination of Rhea Perlman and Pete Postlethwate.

Whitman: I’m afraid none of my tales will be nearly as interesting as Jack’s. I’ve not lived a life of drunken debauchery…as I’ve been relatively tame….and I’ve experienced little in the way of what you would call, cardinal sins…lust…greed…and so forth. And perhaps my only true source of pleasure requires nothing involving battery cables, or dousing a lit cigarette on skin…

Kitty: Okay then, do you have ANYTHING to confess?

Lois: We all have our demons. Some more than others.

She looks away from Whitman, getting increasingly uncomfortable the longer he goes without confessing any actual sins of merit. Whitman struggles to come up with something that will put everyone…namely Lois at ease, without painting him in too negative of a light.

Whitman: I did deliberately disobey my Father by way of becoming a professional grappler. He was quite knackered. Does that count as sinful?

Kitty eyes Lois, detecting that her follower is unpleased.

Kitty: It’s a start.

Whitman: Alright, I ummm, at age fifteen I harbored impure thoughts about my nanny.

Kitty: You still had a nanny at fifteen?

Whitman: I was, how would you say it? A late bloomer?

Lois: Is that…it?

She’s feeling more and more like scum when around Whitman, who desperately tries to retrace his steps to discover past misdeeds.

Whitman: In school I arranged a prank on my professor. When she turned her back I had my school chums push their books off their desks. It created quite the stir, and frightened the poor dear something awful.

Jack: So you never did drugs?

Whitman: I do enjoy the occasional brandy. And I’ve sampled this…Smirnoff….drink you have here in the states…but I much prefer the brandy.

Jack: Smirnoff!?! I once gave a man head for half a bottle of Tequila. It didn’t even have the worm left in it. Have you ever had to give a man head for half a bottle of Tequila?

Whitman: Blimey! I’ve bedded quite a few lasses in my time, but none with male genitalia.

Lois: Have you committed any sins?

Kitty: Lois, Jack, relax. Everyone has sinned in some form or fashion.

Jack: I don’t even think this guy qualifies for the freaking Baptismal you had planned for next week.

Kitty: Of course he does.

Whitman: Baptismal, you say? Will there be fairy cakes and fizzy drinks?

Kitty: Maybe. Please attend Whitman…we’d love to have you.

Lois: Yeah….

The words lack sincerity. It appears that Lois has become none too enamored with Mr. Perfect….no…not the bubble-gum hurdling Henning…but the prim and proper Whitman.

Whitman: I would be most overjoyed to attend.

Lois: Hey Whitman…didn’t you tell me you were booked tonight?

She inquired while glancing down at her watch.

Whitman: Oh…oh yes…of course. Thank you, Lois…Quite enamored with that name by the way, Lois.

Lois: Erm, yeah.

Whitman is off and jaunting towards the ring for his big triple threat match. As soon as the door closes behind his back, Kitty pretends to be directing her comments to everyone, but instead seems to focus on Lois.

Kitty: Isn’t he nice?

Lois: Yeah, too nice.

Kitty: Hmmm. Have you ever actually seen him wrestle?

Lois: No, actually.

Kitty: Maybe you should tonight. He could surprise you.

Cameras shift back to Johnny Dollar, who is neatly stacking a bunch of show notes…while Susie Moore is searching her kindle for another God only knows what.

Dollar: Ladies and gentlemen…

The notes are taken and tossed right over Johnny’s head, papers flying everywhere.

Dollar: Those were my show notes…which have been rendered completely and utterly useless after what’s went down here tonight. My stars…the Blacklist attacks Taylor Chase…Lukas Montgomery is abducted…Ducky is here in the IWC to challenge Katelyn Buehler…and we’re not even half way through the show thus far. But instead of me describing it, let’s go back and actually watch what happened moments ago when Mr. Gaunt revealed who Buehler will be facing this evening.

<img src=http://i413.photobucket.com/albums/pp220/Hurse/video.png>

Dollar is doubled over the table, pinching his eyes as if suffering from a severe migraine.

Dollar: That was NOT the video….would someone PLEASE get Mr. Hush out of the production truck?

Susie: Another Total Recall reminder, you know what that means?

Dollar: Saturated sheets this evening?

Susie: You betcha.

Pearson: You know what….that‘s enough….

There is quite a pop for those familiar with Kathryn Pearson, and even those who aren’t, react at the sight of Kathryn pushing a bound and gagged Montgomery to the stage. She successfully juggles shoving the wheelchair Lukas is seated in while also clutching a microphone.

Dollar: Lohan’s suspicions were well founded, Kathryn Pearson has hold of one of the men she’s scheduled to face in that three team High Stakes match at Upping the Ante.

Susie: I want to take a ride in the wheelchair too…can I….can I please?

The chair is led to the ring and Pearson moves around to the far end, positioning it between the squared circle AND the announce table. She ensures that no one can easily get their clutches on the chained Montgomery.

Pearson: I’ve seen way too much…and dealt with way too much….so I know I’m going to upset a few people….but someone has got to stand up and do something about this.

She doesn’t step away from Montgomery’s side, refusing to put any space between herself and her captive. Instead of being alarmed to be Kathryn’s clutches, Lukas looks like he’s bored, actually dozing off.

Pearson: I’m use to being a disappointment, to my ex-husband, to my mom, to dear old daddy….So it doesn’t bother me that I’m about to disappoint my tag team partner at Upping the Ante…I’m not even upset that I’m going to piss off the Boss. He didn’t exactly take my feelings into consideration when he robbed me of my number one contendership last week, so why should I consider HIS feelings? And Orlando, he’s GOT to learn that I’m not going to fall in line and take this garbage with a pinch of salt.

The crowd applauds Kathryn’s willingness to stand up against the President, in spite of the potential repercussions.

Pearson: I sacrificed my entire life to support my ex-husband in his rise to superstardom here in the wrestling world….but now that I’m away from him…it’s time for ME to start thinking about making myself a success and finding my own niche. Which isn’t going to happen when I’m being sabotaged around every turn. So if the Blacklist can play the blackmail game to get what they want, well, what’s good for the gander, is good for the goose.

Dollar: Hey? How come she’s allowed to say that and I’m not?

Pearson feels comfortable enough to climb up onto the apron, allowing for a small gap between herself and her prisoner.

Pearson: So here’s how it’s going to shake out. Blacklist, if you want Montgomery back, you’ll come out here and face me. If I can beat you, then that High Stakes match at Upping the Ante, is OFF, and I get my one on one match with P Whitman Clarence Junion the third…WHATEVER….for the X-Class Championship. BUT…if the Blacklist are too cowardly to show up…then Orlando, by all means come out here and TRY to take Lukas away from me….Threaten to have me arrested…threaten to fire me…you STILL won’t get Lukas back….until I get what I deserve. The only way you‘re getting Lukas back is if you give me the championship match I EARNED!

Once it becomes apparent that no one is rushing to rescue Lukas, Kathryn feels its safe to slip through the ropes and into the ring. She steadies herself for either a brawl or a bargain.

Kathryn: So what? What’s it gonna be? Am I ready for a fight, or are you going to come out here, do the right thing, Orlando, and get your bargaining chip back? You want to find Taylor Chase, here’s your opportunity…here’s your lifeline to the love of your life.

Gestures are made to the yawning Montgomery.

Kathryn: And I’d suggest you make up your mind right now, because I’ve already spent so much of my life waiting hand and foot on others…that ends tonight…my patience, it’s wearing incredibly thin. So come on…come on!

She doesn’t have to wait long before ‘Lights Out’ by Breaking Benjamin hits and the crowd goes nutty. Through the curtains emerges an individual that Pearson did NOT expect to see…Brittany Lohan…and neither lady looks very happy to gaze upon the other.

Dollar: The Blacklist NOR Orlando Cruze answering Pearson’s challenge. Instead it’s…it’s her own tag team partner at Upping the Ante, Brittany Lohan. The lady she stole Montgomery from.

Susie: Big shoulders versus big boobs. What a face off this should be.

Dollar: I don’t think Lohan is very happy that her credibility and loyalties have been questioned over and over again throughout the night, and she might just take out that frustration on….

Brittany: Kathryn…Kathryn….Kathryn…

Dollar: Way to let me finish, Lohan.

Lohan moseys on down the ramp, not allowing herself to get emotional, even given the condescending gleam in Kathryn’s eyes.

Lohan: I understand you have trust issues. You’ve pretty much been betrayed by just about everyone in your life…..

She moves up the stairs and to the apron, leaning forearms first against the top rope. Merely looking into her eyes would normally be enough to lead someone rushing to the nearest bathroom to clean out their shorts, but Kathryn does not flinch, full of conviction….resolute in her determination to see justice done.

Lohan: I can sympathize. I don’t have a very good track record with all those I THOUGHT I could trust. So yeah, I understand where your coming from.

Pearson nods her head, glad that Brittany sees things her way.

Lohan: We were both royally screwed by the Blacklist last week, and by that SPINELESS Orlando Cruze. I’m not a happy-go-lucky myself about the whole situation. But this is NOT the way to go about getting what you want. All your doing is pissing off Orlando, and more importantly, pissing me off too. And believe me, I’m the last bitch you want to piss off.

Kathryn’s resolve is weakened, especially when Lohan enters the ring and steps right up into her face, intimidating the rookie grappler.

Lohan: You’ve seen what I do to people who get on my nerves, Kathryn. You don’t want to be amongst them. So I’m here to take Lukas to Orlando, and to get Tay-Tay back…step aside.

It goes against everything Pearson personally believes, but she clears a path for Lohan, who sneers before moving towards Montgomery. She is moments from getting her clutches on Lukas, only to have her wrist snatched. The audacious Pearson has hold of Lohan, gripping her wrist just long enough for Brittany to be FORCED to tear it free and turn to acknowledge the woman bold enough to put her hands on her.

Kathryn: I don’t think you heard me, Brittany. I told the Blacklist, they weren’t getting Lukas back without a fight. And since….well…you seem to be in their close circle of friends, I’m going to consider my challenge, answered!

Pearson throws aside the microphone and backs up with arms outstretched to her sides.

Dollar: Is she serious? Kathryn Pearson is actually challenging her own tag team partner for the High Stakes match at Upping the Ante?

Susie: This is gonna get bad….real….REAL bad.

Dollar: She’s not allowing Lohan to just take Montgomery back….she’s going to have to fight her for him. And apparently, she just doesn’t trust that Lohan isn’t being swayed by her friendship with the Blacklist.

An actual smile, one of pure shock, is present across half of Lohan’s face, in total disbelief that Kathryn is actually challenging her…not to a match…but an unsanctioned FIGHT! Brittany lowers her head and shakes it before suddenly rushing right into a lariat that Kathryn ducks.

Kathryn steps under the lariat and then rushes into the ropes behind Brittany, ricocheting off the cables. She comes back in, building incredible speed as Brittany tries to behead her with a back elbow. Kathryn ducks that as well, and then turns just as Pearson ricochets from the ropes and comes back in. The Final Solution steps in to splash the fledgling wrestler, who surprisingly slides right through Lohan’s legs.

Dollar: Kathryn slipping through Lohan’s fingers like water. She just can’t her hands on the woman, who was trained by the very lady who also trained Brittany’s sister, Dawn. Don’t know why that’s relevant, just goes to show I’ve done my research.

Kathryn leaps to her feet and then into the air, delivering a dropkick between Lohan’s shoulder blades. Brittany is sent not only into the ropes, but through them to the outside of the ring. She lands on her feet and turns back towards the ring, smiling wider than ever at this point.

Lohan: Okay then…the gloves are off hon.

Dollar: Looks like Brittany is through playing around.

Susie: How can they be playing without even having a game board…Ewww…they should totally end this fight through Candy Land.

Lohan begins to slide back into the ring only to have Pearson stomp at her hands, keeping her from getting back in. Brittany backs up and then shakes her head, realizing that Kathryn has marked her territory, and will not allow any intruders on her turf. Therefore Lohan takes off AROUND the ring, rushing towards Montgomery. This does exactly what Brittany wanted, drawing Pearson out of the squared circle to stop her.

Kathryn runs around the opposite side of the ring before reaching the steps, leaping onto them and then diving right at Lohan to cut her off. Unfortunately for her, she forgot Brittany’s brute strength, being caught right on top of her adversary’s shoulder. Brittany turns and drives Kathryn spine first right into the barricade. Kathryn reaches for her kidneys, screeching out in pain after the devastating collision.

Susie: I wonder if that’s the same face Kathryn makes when she takes a pooh.

Dollar: Well…thanks for killing any trouser twinge I’ll ever get looking at Pearson again.

Lohan pulls up on Kathryn’s chin and leans her over the barrier.

Lohan: You wanted this…remember…this is what you wanted!

A forearm is driven into Kathryn’s chest, almost bursting her sternum. She then grabs the back of Pearson’s hair, charges her towards the ring and rolling her onto the apron. While most of her body ends up inside of the ring, her upper half remains extended over the apron and high above the mats. Lohan takes the back of Pearson’s head, lifts up on it and then drives her down hard chest first into the apron. She then gets a running start behind a devastating boot to the side of Pearson’s head.

Dollar: Pearson definitely earning her bones tonight. Lohan is putting this rookie through the ringer.

Lohan turns to get her clutches on Montgomery, feeling that she’s finished off the upstart only to have a handful of her hair caught in Kathryn’s clutches. Brittany appears annoyed, turning around to face Pearson, who is on her knees on the apron, throwing right hands down into her forehead. Brittany grabs hold of Kathryn’s wrist and yanks her down off of the apron right on top of one of her shoulders. She has Pearson in a running power slam position, taking off ready to obliterate her opponent with a slam on the protective mats.

The crowd squeals but not Pearson, because she slips right off of Lohan’s shoulder, lands behind her, and shoves her off into the turnbuckle post. Lohan is seconds from hitting the post but saves herself by grabbing the steel, refusing to be bludgeoned by it. She then turns around as Pearson comes rushing in, prompting the incredibly strong Lohan to bend down, catch the inner thighs of her opposition, and throw her over her head.

Pearson catches such height that she actually lands on second rope, showing remarkable grace and poise by balancing herself on the cables. She quickly spins around as does Lohan, who looks up just as Pearson flies off the turnbuckle into a HUGE cross body. She crashes down right into Brittany’s chest, taking her down to the mats with Kathryn landing on top.

Dollar: Wow….just wow…Kathryn showing she has no trouble going high risk.

Susie: She’s got tattoos, that means she’s all extreme and junk. So you shouldn’t be surprised.

Dollar: Kathryn desperate to find success in this business, and she’s not about to let anyone sabotage that.

Pearson rolls away from Lohan to her feet and realizes she’s got her opponent right where she wants her, in an opportune position that won’t last very long. She leaps to the apron and takes off across it, about to dive off when Lohan shows that recuperative ability that has made her such a threat. She leaps to her feet and then to the apron, catching the running Pearson under her arm, heaving her up into the air and dropping with a side slam that plants Kathryn right against the apron.

Dollar: JESUS CHRIST ON A CRACKER!

Susie: Is she dead? Does she have a pulse? Someone hold a glass under her nostrils to see if she’s still breathing. Maybe I should use my stethoscope.

Dollar: Susie…that stethoscope is just a string with a cup at the end of it.

Susie: Yep. It also doubles as my cell-phone.

Dollar: I think Lohan may have just ensured that she’s going to be in a handicap match at Upping the Ante because she might have just broke Pearson’s back with that slam on the apron.

Lohan glares from the mats at potentially crippled Pearson, who lies like a limp noodle on the apron. Not an inch of her is moving, cluing Lohan into the fact that this might be her opportunity. With one victim vanquished, Lohan sets her sights on another, her appetite for chaos insatiable. She descends upon Montgomery, grabbing his wheelchair and pushing him around the ring towards the ramp.

Dollar: And Lohan has got Montgomery back in her clutches. She’s going to find out where Tay-Tay’s mangled body is one way or another…if it’s not too late. Thank God….WAAIT!

Lohan looks up over the wheelchair as Pearson runs across the apron and dives off into a lariat, connecting right against Brittany’s throat. The two collapse to the mats with Pearson landing on her knees. She reaches for her kidneys after that disgusting side slam across the apron, really feeling the effects of this impromptu brawl. She sluggishly gets to her feet, almost falling over after it took the last vestiges of her strength to hit that lariat.

Though this fight may be short in duration, it’s been very brutal on the rookie Pearson’s body. She takes Lohan around the neck, leading her up to her feet while driving forearms over her upper back repeatedly. She then turns Lohan in a full circle before rolling her into the ring. Kathryn then slides in herself, refusing to be bested, refusing to be tested, refusing to be belittled. She approaches Lohan and then gets caught with a discus axe handle smash that almost sends Pearson flipping completely over backwards.

Kathryn lands right on top of her face then twists to the canvas amidst a loud screech from the viewing masses.

Lohan: Brutal….absolutely BRUTAL axe handle smash from Lohan, twisting Pearson completely inside out.

Normally Lohan would have a pin in mind, but there is no referee as this is a completely unsanctioned fight. Brittany settles instead for another form of victory, getting her hands on Montgomery. She approaches the ropes and begins to slide through them when her ankle is ensnared in the clutches of Pearson, who will just let up.

Lohan turns and looks down at the mangled figure clamped onto her ankle, causing Brittany to sigh.

Dollar: I think Lohan is going to walk away from this match with a whole new level of respect for Pearson. Well, after she breaks her in two and ends her career.

Brittany is so busy pummeling the upper back of Pearson, and Kathryn is so busy keeping Lohan away from Montgomery, neither lady notices the figure jumping over the barricade. A predictable eruption commences from the crowd at the sight of Nathan Creed, who takes advantage of the distraction. He grabs the handles of the wheelchair and begins push it up the ramp towards the backstage area.

Dollar: What….wait….Nathan Creed…it’s Creed…and he’s taking off with Montgomery!

Susie: They just need to line up a bunch of police cruisers backstage.

Dollar: Yes, because I think a lot of people are going to be arrested before the end of the night.

Susie: No, so I can play with the sirens.

Pearson is on her feet, shoulder wedged to Lohan’s ribs, powering her backwards into the turnbuckle. Forearm after forearm rams into Pearson’s upper back, knocking her down to her knees. She then scoops Pearson up by the armpit and switches positions with her, tossing Kathryn into the turnbuckle. She is about to pull her fist back and deliver a shot when Kathryn catches her off guard with a scream….not one pleading for mercy…but one alerting Lohan to Creed.

Pearson: Whoa…whoa…what the hell!?!

Nathan doesn’t even look back, taking no pleasure in ruining the well laid plans of Pearson, or usurping Lohan. All he cares about is getting Montgomery backstage before the Blacklist can intervene.

Dollar: Where is Creed taking Montgomery?

Susie: This the worse case of re-gifting I’ve ever seen.

The two pass through the curtains while Lohan turns and glares menacingly at the stage, realizing that Montgomery has slipped through her fingers. Kathryn remains in the corner, looking downright rabid at this point.

Dollar: Nathan Creed has Lukas Montgomery, but why? What are his plans for Lukas?

You won’t have to wait long for answers….not this time…no-no….cause cameras instantly pick up Nathan Creed in the guerilla position, shoving Montgomery into one of the backstage corridors, and doing so in a hurry.

Orlando: Nathan….Nathan…stop….STOP right now!

The chair screeches to a halt, and would kick up dust if it were traveling any quicker. Nathan grimaces as he turns to acknowledge Orlando Cruze, rushing to catch up with his best friend.

Orlando: Where are you going? What are you doing? Why are you doing this?

The questions come so quickly that Nathan doesn’t even have time to answer. Instead he just soaks it all in, the inquires and Orlando’s frazzled state. He gazes upon a man who is NOT the Icon of old, the Icon that he respected.

Orlando: Are you seriously taking off with the only man who can reunite me with Tay-Tay?

Nathan: Have you seriously become this big of a pussy whipped dick-head?

Cruze is no longer frazzled, he’s angry…..no….he’s infuriated.

Orlando: Nathan….my Brother…I would expect those types of comments out of Silencer….not out of you.

Nathan: You want to know why I’m commandeering Lukas here?

Orlando: You better have a damn good explanation.

Nathan: Because it’s the only way I could get your attention, Mate.

Orlando: What? What does that even mean?

Nathan: You and I need to have a serious chat, Lando, you’ve GOT to listen to what I have to say.

Orlando: I swear to God, I do NOT need this right now.

Nathan: What? You want sympathy? You want me to feel bad for you? Because I don’t feel bad for you, and I don’t feel bad for Tay-Tay either.

The murderous gleam in Orlando’s eyes do absolutely nothing to dissuade Creed, hell-bent on saying exactly what needs to be heard…now that he’s finally got Orlando’s attention.

Nathan: Because the two of you brought this on yourselves. You’ve let the Blacklist run around stirring shit…and you even endorsed it. This federation used to be the dog’s bollocks, but you’ve let the Blacklist turn it into a battlefield. And because you didn’t nip them in the rear from jump street, they’ve only escalated and escalated and escalated the violence, until you finally got swept into the middle of it. Did you think letting those three have free reign would work out well for you in the end? Of course not. And if you weren’t so busy with your head stuck up Tay-Tay’s wet-kipper, and so focused on keeping the World Heavyweight Title around your waist, you would have realized that long before it got to this point.

The flames in Orlando’s eyes have been doused, lowering them from Creed’s face.

Orlando: Nathan….PLEASE!

Nathan: You walked away and let me get my arse kicked last week, but I’m not going to let you fall flat on your arse, Orlando, when it comes to relaunching this company. It starts tonight, because I’m going to help you stand up to the Blacklist and stop falling for their tactics….

Lukas: Gentlemen….oh gentlemen….

The clothes have been spat from Lukas’ mouth, allowing him to speak at long last.

Montgomery: As much as I hate to ruin this little bromance, I have a little something to say.

Orlando’s teeth dig into his lower lip as he steps around in front of the chair, bending down to get into Lukas’ face.

Orlando: You better choose your words, very…very wisely.

Montgomery: And you better realize your in no position to threaten me, Boss.

Orlando: Tell me where Taylor is, right now…or….

Montgomery: You’ll what? You’ll do nothing.

Nathan: He might not, but I will.

Creed slides his hands on Lukas’ shoulders.

Montgomery: Tell your boy to get his mitts off of me, Orlando, if you ever want to see Tay-Tay, or the World Heavyweight Title again.

Nathan: Orlando is through being threaten….

Orlando: Nathan…let him go.

Nathan: What? Didn’t we just talk about this?

Orlando: I said let him go….PLEASE!

A disgruntled Creed lets go in order to throw his hands in the air.

Orlando: Now Lukas…

Lukas: Do you have that contract I gave you?

Orlando: Erm….yes…..yes I do.

Lukas: Take it out, sign it, and then I’ll tell you everything you want to know.

What is Orlando to do? He removes the document, unfolds it and stares at the fine print.

Orlando: Aaron really thinks he’s going to get the title tonight, huh?

Lukas bites his tongue and channels Harrison’s terrific ability to blatantly lie.

Lukas: Not as if there’s any other option, now sign the contract.

Orlando grabs a pen, signing his name to the contract.

Orlando: There, it’s done. Aaron will get his match. Now where’s Taylor? Where is SHE!?!

Lukas: Did you ever think to check in your office?

Orlando barely even lingers behind long enough to hear him out before taking off down the corridor. The fact that Tay-Tay’s mangled body would be left in HIS office ALMOST makes sense, as it was a plot hatched form the diseased, warped, demented minds of the Blacklist. So he runs—rushes–dashes to the aid of his beloved, hoping beyond hope that he isn’t too late.

Lukas: Hurry, Orlando, hurry.

Montgomery is chuckling to himself before he looks down at his handcuffs.

Montgomery: You can remove these now.

This time it’s Creed turn to chuckle, slapping Lukas on his shoulders.

Nathan: I don’t think so, Chap.

Lukas stops laughing.

Nathan: You and I, are about to take a ride.

MOMENTS AGO

A still frame image of Kathryn Pearson standing in the ring beside a wheelchair bound Montgomery is featured, as we begin to recap events that unfolded right before the commercial break…the twisted…demented…turn of events that is…which require quite a bit of explanation from the commentary staff, or at least the one with a functional brain.

Dollar: Wow…it actually looks like Mr. Hush is going to let us have one of the video packages to explain what went down moments ago.

Susie: Awww…why relive the past when we can relive Arnold in drag?

Dollar: Just before the break we saw Kathryn Pearson kidnap Lukas Montgomery, and demand that either the Blacklist or Orlando Cruze come out to return her number one contendership only to have Brittany Lohan of all people answer her challenge. Then this happened.

Dollar: What…in God’s name…was that?

Susie: Pure awesome caught on celluloid is what that was, Johnny.

Dollar: I feel as if my childhood was just raped. Why oh why hasn’t something been done about Mr. Hush yet?

ORLANDO CRUZE

The name of the ‘acting’ President of the IWC has been written across the door. The crowd is aware…or so they think…of what they’re about to witness next, already shielding the eyes of the younger, more impressionable viewers. If only Orlando had the same luxury, but as he storms down the corridor towards his office, he prepares himself for a sight straight out of a John Carpenter movie.

His fingers wrap around the knob of the door, his chest heaving, his breathes heavy, his forehead doused with sweat. After a deep breath he begins to twist the door and step inside to find his blood soaked love. But that sight is deprived to the Icon as the door is ripped right out of his clutches, and Orlando instead finds himself staring into the unblemished face of the perfect Taylor Chase.

Orlando: Ta–Ta–Tay Tay?

Tay-Tay: Babe, what are you doing here?

Tay-Tay looks just as confused as Orlando, but for different reasons. Though she’s perplexed simply because Orlando is present at the Manhattan Center, and not off at his meeting, Orlando is surprised to find his lover not soaked in a bucket of blood.

Tay-Tay: Aren’t….you ….supposed to be at a meeting?

Orlando: TAY-TAY!

Orlando reacts out of pure joy, unable to keep his emotions buried under sleeve. Speaking of sleeves, they wrap around Taylor’s waist, heaving her up off of the floor into a big squeeze, twisting her through the air. She unleashes a slight giggle before at last being returned to her feet.

Tay-Tay: Ummm…okay. Easy tiger.

The last thing Cruze is about to do is take it easy, wrapping his hands around Taylor’s cheeks and pulling her into a huge kiss on the lips. Tay-Tay’s toes almost curl up into the back of her feet thanks to the passionate lip-lock. Before they can pass out from asphyxiation, Chase finally pulls away, eyes batting and cheeks flushed with color.

Tay-Tay: Aren’t you feeling feisty.

She fixes the collar of his shirt and his jacket.

Orlando: You have absolutely no idea how relived I am to see that your okay.

Her eyes shift.

Tay-Tay: And wwwwhhyy wouldn’t I be?

His eyes shift.

Orlando: You don’t know what’s going on?

Both of their eyes shift.

Tay-Tay: Am I supposed to? I’ve been in your office all night, since you weren’t going to be using it anyway. Well, with the exception of like the hour that I spent in the driving to the airport.

Orlando: Why?

Allow the Brod to field this one, Baby-Girl.

Taylor Chase’s legendary father steps out of Orlando’s office and slaps him on the back, causing the paranoid…and for good reason…Icon to spin around with fists raised at the ready, on the verge of pummeling anything that moves. Broderick Chase smiles back at the Icon, chalking this up to some sort of game.

The Brod: Mr. Icon…I flew in tonight to sit front row center and watch my crown jewel win the World Heavyweight Title.

Orlando: Uh-huh.

Cruze is still trying to figure out how this explains absolutely anything.

The Brod: But when I got here to spend some time with my Pumpkin, I ran into this punk.

The elder Chase steps aside and gestures to the interior of the room, where Frankie Paradise is seated behind Orlando’s desk, making himself comfortable. He’s kicked back in the leather chair, ankles crossed on top of the desk, with cellular phone in hand. He seems to be tweeting.

Orlando: Mmmkay.

He’s still struggling to put together the pieces of this puzzle.

Tay-Tay: Yeah, Frankie thought that we all needed to have a bit of a pow-wow, hash out the issues Frankie and I have been having lately with the old man playing peace keeper.

The Brod: Old man? Pfft….You know I still have the body of an eighteen year old. I could probably out bench-press your boyfriend here.

Orlando: So wait…wait…wait…wait…you mean to tell me that the three of you have been back here all night long?

Tay-Tay: Pretty much, yep.

The Brod: Frankie had a lot to get off his chest. But I think his tirade kind of won us over in the end. Didn’t know the kid was capable of such sincerity.

Tay-Tay: Yeah, he kind of made me realize just how big of a bitch I’ve been to him the past few weeks.

Orlando: Wait….

He rubs his temples.

Orlando: Why haven’t you answered the fifteen thousand calls and text messages I sent you?

Tay-Tay: Because my stupid cell-phone got broken. Frankie was trying to download some kind of new music app on it for me and somehow he dropped it. Thing shattered into like a thousand pieces.

The Brod: That’s what cases were built for, Pumpkin.

Tay-Tay: I know Dad…I know….But not like you got much room to talk, what with forgetting to bring your charger.

The Brod: Don’t remind me. I feel so naked without my ability to send tweets.

Orlando: Wait…wait…wait…

The two finally pick up on Orlando’s anxiety and outrage.

Orlando: So you…you…you didn’t run into the Blacklist tonight?

Tay-Tay: If I ran into the Blacklist, don’t you think I’d be standing here about to return the World Title to you?

The Brod: Only for you to give it back to her later tonight, right?

Orlando looks like a deer caught in the headlight by this inference.

Orlando: Ummm….uhhhh….about that.

The Brod looks dismayed, Tay-Tay appeard distraught, and Frankie lets everyone know he’s truly disgusted.

The Brod: You’re not going to give into the Blacklist and strip my daughter of her title shot are you? We’ve still got Frankie’s mom on speed dial, she’s a powerful lawyer.

Tay-Tay: Dad…please.

Frankie: Of course he isn‘t going to strip Tay-Tay…though it be hot….

Frankie rises from the chair, at long last vacating Orlando’s seat of authority and then moving to the door where all the commotion is taking place.

Frankie: Because we all know that deep down, Orlando cares more about Tay-Tay, and keeping that beautiful smile on her face, than holding the World Title. Right? Which is why he won’t bow down to the Blacklist and WILL give Tay-Tay her title shot tonight, right?

Orlando scowls at Paradise.

Orlando: Right.

Orlando’s scowl is buried behind his hands, which slowly run down his face.

Tay-Tay: What’s wrong handsome?

Orlando: I really…really wish I had come to my office a few minutes before I signed something I shouldn’t have.

Everyone is intrigued, their eyes prompting him for further information, but Orlando remains quiet, refusing to give in and tell his close circle of allies the terrible truth. The match that he signed off for on that contract offered by the Blacklist…a match that would undoubtedly put Taylor Chase in a particularly perilous position. How he could he tell her? How?

Lohan: PEARSON!

Once again Brittany Lohan finds herself abnormally amped up, emotionally wrought after seeing Taylor….or so it appeared to be Taylor at least…left a mangled…mutilated mess at the onset of tonight’s Riot!….which was followed by constant questioning from the lady who is standing at the top of the ramp. Kathryn Pearson is exhausted after the short, but physical fight she just had with the very woman she’ll team along with at Upping the Ante.

Dollar: As we TRIED to cover via the recap a few moments ago, Kathryn Pearson and Brittany Lohan were really going at it over ownership of the captive Lukas Montgomery, believing he should be used in different ways. While Lohan wanted to use Montgomery to coax the Blacklist into giving her the location of Taylor, Pearson wanted to use him to get back her number one contendership. And apparently, now we’ve learned that Tay-Tay was NEVER in any danger…that she WASN’T assaulted by the Blacklist at all.

Susie: I’m pretty sure that Brittany doesn’t know that though.

Dollar: Yeah, she still looks pretty fired up. And Orlando didn’t know about it until he signed the contract…which I can only assume grants Aaron Harrison, Taylor Chase’s World Title match.

Lohan is taking several breaths in an attempt…an ATTEMPT to calm herself down. It becomes harder and harder the longer she looks at the stooped over Pearson, who is still feeling the effects of the physical brawl she just partook in.

Lohan: You may have just ruined the only chance we had to get Taylor back, and I CAN’T let you get off that easy for it. Get your ass back to this ring RIGHT NOW!

Pearson stands up straight on the stage and mouths the word ‘seriously?’

Lohan: You better believe I’m serious. Now either get in this ring so I can continue giving you a lesson in wrestling, or I’ll drag you down here and…

Kathryn actually starts on her towards the ring, needing no further coaxing.

Lohan: Yeah…get in here…get in here now.

Whitman: Ladies…ladies….ladies….is there really such need for this strife?

With the X-Class Title over shoulder, and a KKK t-shirt still bound to his body, P. Clarence Whitman III emerges on the stage.

Dollar: What in the freck is this idiot doing here? Why are we forced to look at his mug right now?

Susie: I think Whitman’s cute, in a John Merrick kind of way.

Dollar: Two Elephant Man references in the span of a few weeks, jeez, we are running low on material already.

The commentators may be struggling, but Whitman has plenty to say as he approaches the two women with a surprising lack of trepidation, even as Pearson watches from the apron with a none-too pleased expression and Lohan gives the type of stare that could melt a glacier.

Whitman: Normally I would remain outside of such disputes as these, as I’m no meddler, but I could no longer tolerate seeing two ravishing beauties such as yourselves, fighting all the wrong battles.

Lohan and Pearson exchange a quick glance and then look back at Whitman, who boldly slides into the ring and moves between them, employing his body as a physical barrier to keep them apart.

Whitman: Now I realize what most may be thinking. ’Are you daft Whitman?’ Why am I foolish enough to separate two of my opponents at Upping the Ante, instead of allowing them to exchange fisticuffs and potentially leave them unfit for competition? That’s not my prerogative. I don’t want weakened opponents…I want opposition that will give me a fitting challenge. I think that’s what we all want…what anyone in their mind would desire. What does beating injured opponents demonstrate? Nothing…Nothing at all. It only makes the victor look quite weak…forced to depend on the injuries of his opponents rather than his own skill.

Dollar: Did they get Whitman out of the 1980’s?

Whitman: I proudly embody principles of the ancient Brushido. I believe in honor unto death…

He pulls a bit on the collar of his t-shirt….the last word making him a bit uncomfortable.

Whitman:…amongst the many other lessons learned from the mighty Samurai. And that is why I’m here. Mrs. Pearson…Mrs. Lohan…pulverizing one another plays only into the hands of this gaggle of sycophants known as the Blacklist. If you wish to stand any chance at defeating them, put your animosity aside, allow bygones to be bygones…

Pearson’s and Lohan’s glance in one another’s directions turns into a long stare. It seems that they are actually buying into Whitman’s diatribe.

Whitman:…I think you two need to shake hands and forgive one another. Honestly, to truly reinforce the bonds of your alliance, maybe you should hug. Perhaps a little peck on the cheek would display your camaraderie. And we certainly wouldn’t fault you if you decided to take it even a step further. Nothing says I respect you like a full on open mouth kiss on the lips Yes, that would be quite appeasing.

Whitman tries to swipe the drool from his lips as Pearson and Lohan get a step closer to one another. Once they realize that they’re unintentionally acting out Whitman’s fantasies they stop and slowly turn their eyes to the voyeuristic X-Class Champion.

Dollar: You really should have stopped while you were ahead Whitman.

Susie: Now I think he’s not going to have a head.

Whitman: Please don’t let my swooning distract the affirmation of your love for one another….

Whitman notices they’ve stopped inching closer to one another.

Whitman: Ladies, please don’t fear giving me the cold shoulder. If you’re insistent however, I’ll join the two of you in a group hug.

His arms extend and Pearson proves that Whitman is indeed daft, demonstrating as much by catching him off guard via a kick to the ribs. The X-Class Champion doubles over, grabbing at his mid-section and exposing his face to right hand after right hand from Kathryn.

Lohan will not settle for sloppy seconds. She pulls Pearson out of the way and then drives a forearm into Whitman’s cheek, almost taking him down. She then grabs his wrist and whips him right into Pearson, who delivers a big lariat putting the X-Class Champion down to the canvas.

Dollar: Well I think Whitman accomplished his goal of uniting these two women, but not in the way he had planned.

Susie: They should so send him over to the middle-east, he’d make a great peace keeper.

Whitman scrambles to the escape the ring, only reaching back in true Indiana Jones fashion to grab his X-Class Title. Pearson is nipping at his heels but is only stopped when she’s grabbed by the shoulder and spun around so that she comes face to face with Lohan.

Immediately the two are back on each other’s cases, exchanging words rather fists at this point.

Dollar: So much for that alliance.

Susie: It lasted as long as my attention span….eww look at Whitman’s shimmering sparkly spark.

The X-Class Title seems excessively heavy on the shoulder of Whitman as he backs up the ramp, feeling the effects of the brief physicality he was just subjected to. Just as he is about to clear out of harm’s way…the lights in the building dim.

Dollar: Oh shit.

When they rise a sigil has been formed on the stage right beneath Clarence’s feet. Before he can so much as gulp a hand tears right through the metal mesh below and grabs Whitman’s ankle. The X-Class Champion tries to pull away but it’s in vain, as the rest of Legion emerges from sigil and now grabs his prey by the shirt, dragging him down to his knees.

Neither Brittany nor Kathryn do anything but stare, forgetting about one another in order to fixate on the behemoth who has hold of a kneeling Whitman by the collar of his shirt.

Dollar: Legion has arrived…but for what purpose?

Susie: To make me saturate my underpants?

Dollar: I think it’s more than that. He’s got hold of Whitman, who has been a victim of the Black Crusade for several weeks now. Is he at last going to make Clarence face his ultimate fear?

Just as Legion begins to drag Whitman towards the backstage area a baton slams right across the back of the N.H.B Champion’s head. The goliath staggers forward as two riot gear wearing security guards tear through the curtains, both of which wielding the same weapon, batons that inflict damage on the mask clad colossus.

Dollar: Now security is all over Legion. Their beating the stuffing out of the N.H.B Champion.

Susie: Is he literally filled with croutons?

Dollar: How should I know what a demon’s diet consists of.

Susie: I’m thinking souls and Mr. Pibb.

Whitman watches from his knees with a look of downright confusion as Legion staggers down the ramp and turns just in time to be hit between the eyes once again with a baton by the more feminine looking member of the assaulting party.

Legion is sent spiraling towards the ring and eventually collapses against the apron, trying desperately to hold himself up.

Dollar: More chaos…more carnage. Laymon presumably sending his sentinels out here to deal with Legion once and for all. Getting payback for all the problems they’ve caused in the production truck. At long last they‘ve got the drop on the monster.

With Legion taking a knee one of the security guards feels bold enough to turn and throw a baton to Whitman, who got a little closer in order to get a better glimpse of what’s happening here.

Dollar: Now these two are giving the baton to Whitman. Are they actually encouraging him to hit Legion?

Susie: Or maybe they’re encouraging him to do a Fred Astaire style dance with the baton. He does kind of look like Fred Astaire. And I say that having absolutely no idea who Fred Astaire is.

Whitman first looks down at the baton, then back up into the tinted face plates shielding the….well…faces….of the security guards.

Dollar: What’s it gonna be Whitman? Either take your chance to finally stand against the Black Crusade, OR stand by the statements you made just a few moments ago. You’re slated to face Legion, are you going to do it straight up in this triple threat, or battle a weakened man? Assuming Legion is a man.

It takes Whitman a moment but he finally comes to a decision, swinging the baton right into the skull of one of the guards. He then turns and swings the stick into the knee of the other attacker. The fans are going nuts as Whitman swings for the fences, taking out any and all frustrations on security.

Dollar: He’s actually coming to Legion’s defense! He really is THAT stupid!

Susie: Don’t you mean, honorable?

Dollar: No, I mean stupid.

Whitman keeps swinging until both of Laymon’s sentries have been sent scurrying into the crowd.

A monitor provides a perfect view of all the action, and both Kitty Buehler and Lois Prince are enjoying what they see. Well, at least Lois is, as she gets to see a different side of Clarence, his bad-ass side. Buehler looks disgusted by the actions of Whitman, but surprisingly pleased at the sight of the slight grin on Lois’ face.

Lohan and Pearson are still bickering inside of the ring while on the outside Whitman is looking between the baton in his hand and the prone Legion. At last he tosses the weapon to the ground and reaches out, nervously taking the behemoth under the arm, aiding him to his feet. Legion eyes are widened by the sight of someone actually assisting him to his feet, offering support rather than physicality. His response to this kind gesture, taking Whitman by the back of the head and slamming the X-Class Champion face first into the apron.

Dollar: Told you so. Knew PCW3’s misguided idealism would cost him dearly. Legion is compassionless, you can‘t reason with the man.

Susie: Not even if he bought him a plushie? Cause you know…

Dollar: Yes, yes, we all know your predilections about plushies and glitter.

Susie: Don’t get me started on glitter. It might be the one thing Legion’s mask is missing.

Legion cocks back his fist to unload on the prone Whitman while Lohan finally shoves Pearson down to the canvas then runs across the ring in order to drop into a baseball slide. Both boots slip under the ropes into Legion’s chest, knocking the N.H.B Champion back a few steps. Finally referee Stuart Wright comes bolting towards the ring, ready to officiating the impending carnage.

Dollar: The referee is here to get some semblance of control to all this anarchy and I suppose to start the three way preview to the High Stakes Tag Match at Upping the Ante.

Susie: I thought he was out here to do another of his impersonations….he played Porno Lad wonderfully at the last pay-per-view.

Dollar: Surprised you remember that.

Susie: What?

Dollar: Wright being dressed up as Porno Lad.

Susie: When did that happen?

Given the fact that Lohan has bigger muscles than he does, Whitman makes an exception about fighting woman this evening. He runs right at Brittany, who reaches out and catches Clarence around the waist, then drops back into a release over head belly to belly suplex. Whitman’s spine collides hard with the mats while Loahn turns her focus to Legion, taking the N.H.B Champion around the neck in a side headlock. She then charges him by the top of the skull directly into the steel turnbuckle post. He bounces off and staggers back, senses and impulses still hindered by the attack from Laymon’s security.

Brittany takes the N.H.B Champion and rolls him into the ring before climbing up onto the apron. She is just about to enter the ring when Legion rises to his feet and delivers the shuffle side kick right to Brittany’s skull. She’s sent flying, without the use of happy thoughts or magical powder, through the air before ultimately coming down right on top of the X-Class Champion.

Whitman looks up just as Lohan lands in his clutches, catching her before she hits the mats. Unfortunately, both to Clarence’s dismay and pleasure, he’s caught his opponent by the boobs. Before he can given an explanation Lohan looks down at the hands touching her endowments, then up into Whitman’s face with a look that could turn coal into diamonds.

Pearson has stepped around behind the pair, shaking her head judgmentally before a timid Whitman poses a very important question to the woman he’s unintentionally groping.

Whitman: Erm, do you want me to let go or squeeze?

Another boot is delivered by Lohan, as far south of the mid-section as possible. Clarence doubles over and puts his head in the clutches of the Final Solution of Pro Wrestling, who whips him by the back of the noggin towards the ring. He loses his footing though, and goes down head first right into the crotch of Pearson. Kathryn jumps back with Whitman’s head stuck under her lower extremities, digging his skull in like an ostrich putting its skull in the sand.

She throws her arms up into the air and glares down at Whitman before at last prying his head from her crotch.

The moment Whitman stands up he inquires as to rather they’re now betroved, only to have his inquiry go unanswered, thanks in large part to the forearm nailing him to the upper back. Lohan knocks Whitman forward into Pearson, the two spilling over the steel steps and crashing across the mats.

Dollar: God, as much as I loathe Whitman, I have to say, he’s been in a lot of positions I find quite envious.

Susie: I envy the fact that his head looks just like a testicle.

Dollar: What is it with you and testicularly shaped heads?

Susie: In the words of Sparkles…it’s a compulsion.

With Whitman and Pearosn taken out Lohan returns her attention to the ring only to instantly fall into the clutches of Legion. He reaches through the ropes and grabs her right by the throat, choking her viciously. He then heaves her up by the carotid artery to the apron and reaches over the cables, locking both hands around her larynx.

Brittany tries to pry the hands away from her neck but can’t break the grip of the incredibly storng N.H.B Champion. A forearm is thrown over the ropes into Legion’s chest, followed by another and then another. Lohan takes her opponent by the back of the head and tries to drop down off the apron to snap his throat against the top rope. However, Legion plants his feet and keeps both hands locked around Lohan’s throat as he feet dangle above the mats, kicking desperately. He then heaves her back up into the air and onto the apron before at last throwing her over the top rope.

Lohan comes down in the center of the ring onto her knees STILL being choked with both hands of Legion. The N.H.B Champion has Brittany’s face turning several different shades, settling on a bright blue hue. She’s now going purple as she slowly begins to curl to the canvas.

Dollar: This is kind of sick, Legion is just choking Lohan into unconsciousness, and there seems to be nothing she can do about it.

Susie: Who knows, maybe she’s into that type of thing.

Salvation for Brittany comes in the chivalric Whitman, who steps up behind Legion and grabs his thick bicep, trying to force him down to the canvas into the crossface, a submission that has netted the X-Class Champion quite a few victories. Yet even Whitman can’t break Legion’s grip on his opponent’s throat, unable to prey a single arm away with all of his strength. So to the shock of all onlookers, Whitman wraps his legs around Legion’s forearm and then places his hands under his chin.

Dollar: Really? Whitman has got a crossface locked in on a STANDING Legion.

Legion remains upright with Whitman suspended in mid-air, applying the submission. He wrenches back on the chin several times while keeping his legs clamped about the wrist and forearm, the crowd applauding his unique submission variant. At last Legion is forced to acknowledge his tag team partner at Upping the Ante, AND break one hand away from Brittany’s throat, throwing back his arm and sending Whitman cascading through the air.

Clarence crashes to the canvas while Lohan rises to her feet, pigment returning to her face. She wraps an arm around Legio’s forearm, finally prying the other hand away from her throat, and then hooking his other arm. She has both of the N.H.B Champion’sarms in her clutches, leaving him defenseless against the barrage of headbutts that connect against his chest.

She then takes Legion around the back of the head and drops into a sit-out jawbreaker, sending her adversary staggering back. Brittany then tries to capitalize but almost falls over due to the strangulation, Legion’s palm prints left in her throat.

Speaking of the leviathan, he bounces off the ropes and absent of thought, but not of malice, staggers into the waiting foot of Brittany, traveling right into his guy. He doubles over as Lohan places him in a front chancery, setting up for a big time vertical suplex. She tries to heave the N.H.B Champion but her back gives out. Though she possesses incredible strength she’s still unable to get the manifestation of fear over into the suplex.

Therefore, Whitman, a paragon of nobility, steps in, takes Legion by the neck and aids in the suplex attempt. But Legion is going nowhere, mostly because Brittany has given up on the suplex and is eyeballing Whitman. It doesn’t take long for her to indulge the impulse to save in his skull, nailing a right to his cheek. Whitman staggers away and Brittany turns her focus back to Legion a little too late to avoid the knee to her gut and the front chancery that is applied.

Just as he’s about to hit a vertical suplex, Whitman steps in and tries to help, placing Lohan in a front chancery as well. Now it’s Legion giving the X-Class Champion the stank-eye.

Dollar: Whitman, would you please just learn that nobody wants to work with you. I don’t even want to look at you, let alone be forced to team up with you.

A vicious back elbow nails Whitman in the eye, knocking him out of the equation. One might detect a shiner forming around his eye if the lights in the arena weren’t such a dark shade of red, a technical malfunction resulting from the arrival of Legion.

Speaking of which, he goes back to Lohan, extending his palms and engulfing her throat. But wait, she drops down to her knees and drives the top of her skull into the guts of her massively proportioned opponent. She then goes for a second head butt to his ribs only to have a knee cut her off, rammed directly into her face.

The Final Solution rolls away to the center of the ring, getting to all fours as Legion steadies himself. Just at the precise moments when he stands up, Whitman comes barreling across the ring, steps off of the crawling Lohan’s back and launches himself right into Legion.

He reaches out and catches Clarence across his chest then back flips over into a moonsault fall away slam.

Dollar: WOW! We saw quite a bit of this at Awakening, Legion displaying some tremendous agility to hit that fall away moonsault slam.

Susie: The big man can fly, and he turned Whitman into a little squishie.

Legion isn’t through, he stands up still clutching the much lighter Whitman across his throat and prepares for a second moonsault fall away slam when Lohan steps in out of nowhere, delivering a dropkick to Clarence’s back.

The impact drives Whitman hard into Legion’s chest, knocking the masked man back into the ropes. He spills backwards right over top of them with Clarence still trapped across his sternum. The two flip completely over and Legion lands on his feet across the outside mats STILL holding Whitman in fallway slam position.

Dollar: Good GOD, Legion truly is a monster if he can keep hold of Whitman even after that flip over the top rope.

Before he can connect with yet another potential fall away slam, Lohan slips through the ropes and dives off the apron into a double axe handle. Legion keeps one arm in position, holding Whitman across his chest and then extends his other hand, catching Lohan as she comes in by digging his claws right into her mouth. The mandible claw is applied at the same time that he has Whitman still in position for the fall away slam.

Susie: Ewww, who knows where that hand has been.

Dollar: I shudder to think, but we know where it is now, right down Lohan’s gullet.

Suddenly Whitman begins to deliver repeated knees to the side of Legion’s head while Brittany connects with kicks to his gut. It takes a number of shots before the behemoth at last unleashes both of his opponents. Whitman lands on his feet and applies a front chancery while Lohan slaps the fingers out of her throat and also puts the N.H.B Champion in a chancery. The two snap back into a double vertical suplex, driving Legion right into the outside mats.

Dollar: Tense situations create for odd bed-fellows. Whitman and Lohan working together to at last take out Legion.

Legion remains sprawled across the mats, not flinching an inch. His opponents on the other hand are fighting their way back to their feet, or more accurately, Lohan is the one throwing forearms while Whitman just stands up. He gets forearm after forearm after forearm to the cheek and the chin, almost knocking him to the mats. But Brittany isn’t letting him go down, instead she’s taking him by the head and running him towards the ring where she can take full advantage of the X-Class Champion.

Whitman rolls across the canvas to the center while Lohan is beginning to enter herself. She turns towards Pearson, who is sitting on the steel steps with her arms crossed.

Lohan: Watch and learn.

She is just about to enter the ring but the fact that she took her eyes off the prize proves incredibly costly. Whitman rushes in and grabs Lohan by the arm as she was half way through the ropes is now trying to drag her down into the crossface. The official gets on the case of Whitman, telling him that Lohan’s leg is in the ropes and he cannot get the submission applied.

Lohan however, is not content with being saved by a scrawny official, she pushes back with her arm and sends Whitman spilling through the ropes to the apron. She then turns around as Clarence stands up on the opposite side of the cables and does the unthinkable, steals from Legion’s repertoire. He reaches over the ropes and digs his fingers right down Brittany’s throat, trying to apply his own mandible claw. But this one proves ineffective, especially when she bites down on the fingers rammed inside of her mouth.

Dollar: I don’t think Whitman thought this one out clearly. He saw it worked well for Legion, but that guy is a totally different creature than Clarence.

Susie: She’s eating his fingers. I wonder if they taste like bangers and mash.

Whitman bites his own hand, the free one, digging teeth into knuckles as he stifles a scream. Lohan spit’s the fingers out and then bends down, putting her head under Clarence’s seat. She then stands up, flipping Whitman over the top rope. As he comes down he catches Lohan around the waist, dragging her down into a sunset flip.

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Dollar: Has Whitman caught another unsuspecting victim with a roll up?

The ref is moments from hitting the canvas a third time when Lohan rolls back out of the pinning predicament and to her feet. Whitman then lifts his feet into the air and wedges them to her chest, shoving her off backwards to the center of the ring and at the same time rolling over to his feet. He then bolts straight at Lohan, who recovers in time to bend down, catch Clarence against her shoulder, heave him up and drive him down into the double A spine buster.

Bones and organs are mauled by the collision against the canvas, Whitman looking beyond spent…positively broke at this point. On the outside of the ring Legion surprises everyone when he arches his back up off of the mats in a crab walk fashion before slithering in serpentine fashion back up to his feet.

Dollar: Uh-oh, Legion didn’t stay down for long.

The N.H.B Champion slides back into the ring and stands just in time to be nailed to the throat with a big discus lariat from Lohan. The collision knocks him back into the turnbuckle while Lohan begins to deliver repeated elbows to the side of his face. Her eyes then turn towards the opposite side of the ring, where Whitman has taken position in the diagonal corner, leaning on it for support.

She rushes in and engulfs him with a big splash, then turns around and charges across the ring, slamming her body into Legion as well. The crowd is stunned to see Lohan’s impressive onslaught, crushing both of her adversaries via the big splash. She then turns back towards Whitman, who remains upright, albeit stooping out of the corner and charges in for another splash that will crush every bone in his body.

But the moment she steps forward she finds herself snagged on something, Legion grabbing her by the hair and not letting her get an inch. The No Holds Barred Champion spins Lohan around and grabs her by the head, applying the Five Finger Crawl.

Dollar: Now Legion channeling the aura of Kerry Von Erich with the claw! He’s got Lohan palmed like a basketball.

Susie: Hopefully he doesn’t try to spin her head on his finger next. And I’d hate to see his rendition of a double dribble.

Legion is squeezing Lohan’s head until it implodes and Pearson couldn’t look anymore apathetic over the plight of her tag team partner.

Pearson: So that’s how its done, huh?

Whitman now rushes out of the corner and leaps into the air, dropkicking Legion to the chest, backing him up into the turnbuckle, but he will not break the Five Finger Crawl on Lohan. Brittany drops to her knees as her skull begins to squeeze around her brain. Whitman stands up, looking stunned that Legion remains upright and still clasps hold of his opponent’s cranium. This prompts him to begin delivering a series of open hand palm strikes on the title holder.

The onslaught only ends when Legion reaches out and palms his head like a basketball as well, trying to squeeze it until all the air comes gushing out.

Dollar: That didn’t work out well for Whitman, he’s caught in the Five Finger Crawl as well. Legion is going to knock both opponents out with this submission.

Susie: That or reenact the scene from Fright Night 2 by using their heads as bowling balls.

Instead of prescribing to Dollar’s logic, Legion heaves Whitman into the air by his head and throws him into the turnbuckle. Whitman lands on the top rope, seated across it and instantly wondering how he got there. Legion then hoists Lohan up into the air and sends her twisting into the corner in the same fashion. She hit’s the turnbuckle just beneath Whitman, standing under the seated X-Class Champion.

Legion then steps to the center of the ring, turns and rushes in to deliver a big splash of his own presumably. That’s when Whitman steps off the top rope, steps off the top of Brittany’s head and launches himself into a big diving double axe-handle that actually has Legion stunned.

Dollar: Whitman FINALLY living up to the high risk, aerial dare devilry we’re supposed to see out of the X-Class Champion…though to be fair, Legion and Lohan set that up expertly.

Susie: And Lohan had to smell his foot in the process to boot.

Dollar: From what I understand, Whitman had that foot properly manicured and odorized after what Mr. Hush did to him several weeks ago on this program.

Legion looks very confused, staggering around after the double axe handle while Lohan comes barreling out of the corner, looking for a big yakuza kick on the unsuspecting X-Class Champion. Whitman side steps her though, allowing the boot to nail Legion right between the eyes. The N.H.B Champion stumbles back, swinging his arms to remain upright.

Lohan then turns around as Whitman comes barreling towards her, but now its her turn to duck whatever he had planned. She bends down and catches the inner thighs of Whitman, throwing him up into the air so that he lands right on top of Legion’s chest, finally taking the monstrosity down off of his feet. He lands on his back with Whitman seated on his chest for the pin.

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Lohan ricochets off the cables in front of Whitman and then comes barreling back in with a huge Yakuza kick connecting right to the face of her seated opponent.

The X-Class Champion’s head is almost knocked clear off his shoulders. He flips over backwards while the aggressive Lohan instantly turns her focus on Legion, delivering an elbow drop to his ribs. She rolls to her feet and hits a second elbow, then a third, then a fourth, and at last a fifth.

Dollar: Elbow after elbow after elbow right to Legion’s chest. Lohan just unloading on both opponents at this stage.

In the process of reaching her feet, Lohan turns to acknowledge the watching Pearson at ringside. A sneer forms on her face, one that finally causes Kathryn to seemingly lose her cool. She throws the tarp hanging from the apron into the air but doesn’t like what she sees beneath the ring. This prompts her to walk down the mats continuing to lift the tarp in an urgent search. Instantly her eyes light up at the sight of the perfect weapon, that for some reason was left beneath the squared circle.

She picks up a crowbar that gets a loud reaction from the crowd, slapping it against the apron.

Dollar: Pearson has hold of the very weapon that Lohan has used to cause such chaos here in the IWC…It’s what put Sebastian Knight out of commission at Awakening.

Susie: Hopefully Pearson doesn’t do what Lohan vowed she would over Twitter and ram it up someone’s rectum.

Pearson is about to slide into the ring with the crowbar in hand, mistakenly putting it in the ring first. That’s when Lohan steps right onto her forearm and reaches down, prying the crowbar out of her clutches.

Dollar: Oh no, now the RIGHTFUL number one contender for the No Holds Barred Championship has got the crowbar in her hand. This is bad for everyone in a five mile radius, especially with how fired up Lohan is tonight.

Brittany backs up slowly when Whitman is grabbed out of nowhere, but NOT by Lohan. Legion once again takes Whitman by the throat, hoisting him up to his feet and then employing his head as a human battering ram. He charges Clarence’s skull right into the lower back of Lohan, knocking her forward into the ropes. She spills through the apron, clutching at her kidneys.

The impact of his head to Legion’s spine knocks Whitman’s head out of Legion’s side headlock, spurting free and then reaching out and grabbing his massive opponent around the thigh as he goes down, TRYING to pull him down into a school boy. Legion flails his arms to keep from being dragged into yet ANOTHER roll up victory from Whitman, which have proved quite useful for the X-Class Champion thus far.

Just when it seems that Legion is on the verge of going down into the school boy, he instead goes down ass first right onto Whitman’s chest, crushing it beneath him.

The official makes the count as everyone watches Whitman go blue from all the weight crushing his chest.

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Dollar: Legion picks up a HUGE momentum builder by beating Whitman….squishing him beneath his bulk. He had those roll ups of Clarence‘s scouted.

Legion rolls to his elbows and knees after defeating Whitman in climactic fashion, pinning the very man who will be his tag team partner at Upping the Ante.

Clarence clutches at his sternum as he twists away from Legion, somehow mustering the strength to begin rising to his feet, albeit by no conscious choice of his own.

Dollar: I might not be the only one who’s stunned more by Whitman taking the fight to Legion, than by the N.H.B Champion’s victory here tonight. Instead of running away in fear, Clarence finally stood up to the masked monster.

The bell chimes repeatedly in the background as the celebration commences only to ultimately be cut short. Whitman has just reached his feet when the crowbar is swung by a vengeful Lohan right into the top of his head. Clarence collapses in a heap across the canvas.

Dollar: Lohan just BASHED Whitman right in the head with that friggin crowbar! His skull may have just been split right down the middle by this psycho.

Susie: And she doesn’t look done yet.

The N.H.B Champion has just reaches his feet when Lohan slams the crowbar between his shoulder blades. The goliath does not go down, instead turning just as Brittany slams the bar right against his jaw, almost knocking every tooth out of his mouth. Legion at last goes down to a knee but won’t stay down. He actually begins to stand up when Lohan just goes nuts, hitting every inch of his skull, chest, and shoulders with the crowbar, over and over and over again, from every angle. Legion throws some wild right hands, unconscious before his body can even catch up with him.

At last he crumbles to his seat and falls spine first against the ropes, eyes glazing over.

Dollar: And dear lord, Lohan even brought down Legion with those shots form the crowbar. This woman has absolutely lost it. But maybe that primal aggression is just what she needs against the likes of Legion.

The crowbar is more bent up and mangled than Legion’s skull, being tossed to the canvas beside the battered N.H.B Champion. She then turns towards Pearson, who watches on with shock from the outside of the ring.

Lohan: YES…that’s how it’s done.

Whitman and Legion, the champions, lie beneath the deranged Lohan, who has at last snapped after the abduction of her friend and employer Chase, as well as the repeated swipes at her loyalties.

Dollar: The Champions might not even make it to that High Stakes tag match at Upping the Ant…What the hell?

Susie: Upping the Ant? Sounds like animal porn to me.

Legion slithers across the ring towards Whitman, wrapping arms around his neck and pulling him up to his feet just as Lohan was stepping in to dish out further punishment on the X-Class Champion with the crowbar. Suddenly the lights go out, and when they return back to full power, without that eerie red tint, there’s no sight of Legion…there’s no sight of Whitman….there’s just Lohan standing there alone with the crowbar in her grip and a confused expression on her face.

Susie: Where’d they go?

Dollar: Legion employing his hocus pocus tactics again. Last week he disappeared with Christian Savior, and tonight, he does it again with Whitman before Lohan could further pulverize him. But…buy why? I thought Legion was compassionless.

The Original Prankster looks exhausted…battered…banged up…bruised…fucked six ways from Sunday. Hs leans over in his chair, a bag of ice placed to his eye, perhaps suffering a mouse under his pupil after the beat down by the TCWC. Gripped in his hand is NOT the IWC Tag Team Title belt, but the giant afro that Cassidy bought him as a present.

Katelyn: Why do you still have that?

Buehler questions while approaching the seated Porno Lad with a cup of water in hand. He leans back, pressing his spine against the wall of the long corridor they’re positioned in, and putting his legs up on a small box.

Porno Lad: Don’t know to be honest….

He examines the afro forward and back.

Porno Lad: I guess Cassidy’s got me thinking.

Katelyn: Don’t tell me you’re letting that psycho-slut get in your head.

She forks over the cup of water to Porno Lad, who can’t even stomach the thought of drinking it.

Porno Lad: Actually, she’s got me thinking about our whole relationship.

An exclamation point expressing the fact that Buehler has gone into alert mode is about to flash above her head.

Katelyn: In what way?

Porno Lad: Just realized I’ve never really gotten you anything.

She’s instantly relieved.

Katelyn: Don’t worry about it, Babe. I’m fine. Being together again, that’s gift enough.

Porno Lad: No…no…I’ve been a total dick to you over the years…and though it doesn’t make up for the way I’ve treated you….

He takes his feet off the small box and picks it up, holding it out to Katelyn.

Porno Lad: I got you a little something. Not much, just kind of picked it up at one of the souvenir stands.

The fact that someone at long last bought her a gift, one from the heart, makes Katelyn’s knees almost buckle and a tear form in the corner of her eye.

Porno Lad: Don’t get all menstrual on me…Just open the damn box…not like it’s an engagement ring or something.

He shudders at the thought that he may have just implanted a very bad thought in Katelyn’s head. The box is eagerly opened by the smitten Buehler, who finds herself even more overwhelmed.

Katelyn: Awww….awww…AWWW…you didn’t.

Porno Lad: I did, because I’m a great big sweety like that.

A plushie is removed from the box…but not just ANY plushie…it’s a PORNO LAD plushie…beautiful head of hair mimicked and everything. She looks it up and down with a cheeks blushed and massive grin on her face.

Katelyn: You are the most thoughtful man on the planet….I love it.

She squeezes the plushie, and then squeezes the real Porno Lad, pulling his head into her bosom.

Porno Lad: Alright…ALRIGHT ALREADY.

He pulls back and takers the plushie from Katelyn.

Porno Lad: What an uncanny resemblance.

The Prankster stands up continuing to admire the stuffed toy.

Porno Lad: There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about too.

Katelyn: Anything.

Porno Lad: You can’t go through with this match against Ducky tonight.

She groans and lowers her head.

Katelyn: I have to, Ethan…

He pulls her eyes back up by lifting on her jaw.

Porno Lad: No….no you don’t. Especially not to protect me. I can handle myself. The Black Crusade don’t scare me.

Katelyn: They should. You have no idea what they’re capable of.

Porno Lad: I’m not going to let you negotiate with terrorists. You’re NOT fighting Ducky tonight, understood? Let the Blacklist try to do something about it. We’ll take the fight right back to them at their precious little production….

A cane is swung right into the back of Porno Lad’s head. The sound of the collision echoes throughout the corridors of the Manhattan Center and sends Ethan tumbling to the concrete, landing face first. Katelyn clears out of the way, looking on in absolute terror at the sight of the Original Prankster and the plushie he purchased her lying on the ground. Towering above him, with Mr. Gaunt’s cane in hand….is Ducky.

Katelyn: No….no…please…leave him alone…LEAVE HIM ALONE!

Buehler drops down and tries to protect Porno Lad but can’t bring herself to get very close to Ducky, unsure what personality she would be tangling with. She doesn’t even intervene when Ducky bends down and picks up the plushie that Porno Lad dropped.

Ducky: Awww…it really is cute. I think I’ll keep it.

Katelyn: NO!

Ducky: Sorry, finders keepers, losers weepers.

He begins to playfully jaunt away.

Ducky: See you in the ring, girlfriend.

Buehler’s hands are on top of her head, going as pale as a sheet. Trying to get her jumbled thoughts. She doesn’t even stoop down to check on the love of her life, instead watching Ducky strut away with the only gift anyone has ever given her.

Cameras return to Riot!, featuring those same two pudgy police officers seen last week exiting their cruiser in the parking lot. They let the lights mounted upon their car continue to flash as they step towards the inner sanctum of the Manhattan Center.

Dollar: Why are the police here AGAIN!?!

Susie: Are you sure their not the world’s most out of shape strippers?

Dollar: Maybe they’re here to finally do something about the Black Crusade’s hijacking of the production truck.

The production truck does come into view, but only because the police are passing it without so much as a glance in its direction. Yep…they mosey right by the chains that hang from the door, no Silence in sight.

Dollar: Apparently I was mistaken, as odd as that sounds. They’re headed into the Manhattan Center, but for what purpose?

Mr. Gaunt, cane in hand, and sunglasses perched on the edge of his nose, for whatever reason, maybe a fashion statement, maybe cause he just had his pupils dilated…who cares…is seated on the steps leading to the production truck, watching the flashing lights of the police cruiser, seemingly mesmerized by them. That’s when he’s alerted by the arrival of those same two riot clad guards, stepping towards him with one brandishing a baton. The other would have a weapon in hand if it wasn’t snatched from their clutches by Whitman.

Mr. Gaunt: At last.

He rises in recognition of the duo. The crowd prepares themselves for a fight, but instead they should have been in preparation for another of Riot’s obligatory swerves.

Mr. Gaunt: I trust that all went accordingly.

The pair nods.

Mr. Gaunt: Then you should return to your post, Mr. Hush. Al doesn’t quite grasp an understanding of our goals this evening.

Both guards remove their helmets, revealing the faces of Mr. Hush and Silence, two full fledged members of Gaunt’s Black Crusade. Mr. Hush steps into the production truck, while Mr. Gaunt directs his statements to the sole female member of his collective.

Mr. Gaunt: Good thing Mr. Whitman is not a proficient striker.

Silence nods.

The arena lights dim and the video begins to play, featuring Nicole Kinneck, AKA Ducky, and her other many personalities in action. The birth canal that is the entry way, excretes the former SCW Underground Champion. Ducky comes to the stage, but not alone, toting the Porno Lad plushie she snatched from Katelyn moments ago. She heads straight to the ring and hops to the apron. She runs her free hand through her hair, snatching it at several times, on the verge of plucking some follicles straight out of her skull.

Dollar: Yeah…I’m just as shocked as everyone watching here tonight, which should never happen, considering I ALWAYS have the insider’s edge. Anyway, SCW’s Ducky summoned by the Black Crusade’s Leeland Gaunt. Let’s show everyone how this match came about.

EARLIER TONIGHT

Dollar: Dammit….dammit….DAMMIT!

Susie: Yay! More Wiseau!

Dollar: Got to do this via word of mouth then. At the pay-per-view we saw Katelyn imprisoned and then harassed while behind bars by Legion, who apparently sent the message, through I’m guessing sign language considering no one can understand a word coming from his mouth, that Buehler was to face her fear tonight, which she agreed to do under duress last week. And earlier this evening, we found out who her opponent would be, Ducky!

Susie: I love that name so much…DUCKY…And as if she couldn’t be anymore awesome, here she is with a plushie…a Porno Lad plushie!

Ducky enters an IWC ring for the very first time, swinging the plushie above her as if she were channeling the spirit of masked Golga. As her lyrics die down Ducky turns to address the entry way, eagerly…EAGERLY anticipating the arrival of her opponent…aka….her victim. Hollywood Whore overtakes the lyrics to Ducky’s entry theme, bringing a smile to Kinneck’s face.

Dollar: Is she going to show? Is Katelyn going to face the embodiment of her fear? Or run away with her head tucked up Porno Lad’s ass?

Susie: Does Porno Lad even have an ass to put her head in? He is a white guy…which means he possesses no posterior whatsoever.

Ducky lays across the perpendicular ropes intersecting in the turnbuckle, cheek resting on her fist as she waits and waits and you guessed it…waits some more. It seems Buehler is not about to take Ducky up on her challenge, that she’s perhaps hit the road. This fact begins to set in on the crowd as well, losing hope until at long last the curtains part, and through them strides Katelyn Buehler. The fans are relieved to see Porno Lad’s gal-pal, but she doesn’t look at all thrilled for the competition awaiting her, evident by her reluctant stroll to the ring and her long pause at the end of the ramp.

Dollar: Katelyn has come out but is she going to get in? Will she actually step up and fight Ducky?

Susie: She had better if she wants back that plushie.

Ducky gestures for Katelyn to enter but Buehler isn’t budging, she remains fixed to the ramp, lower lip quivering and tears streaming down her eyes.

Dollar: For God sakes, grow a back-bone woman.

Susie: Meow….that was my womanly tiger roar….

Dollar: Yes…yes…yes…we’re all well aware of your terrible femme battle cry.

Ducky sits up on the turnbuckle and slowly runs her finger around the nipple area of the Porno Lad plushie. A distraught Buehler turns away from the ring and starts up the ramp, coming to her senses. Ducky begins to pout in response before she snaps her fingers and Jessica Wilde forks over a microphone.

Ducky: Katie-Pooh….oh Kattie-Bear.

Katelyn stops, and with mascara running, turns to address the woman who is supposed to be her opponent this evening.

Ducky: I came here tonight for a wrestling match, and if you won’t face me…I guess I’ll have to wrestle your lil friend here.

To Buehler’s horror, she is forced to watch Ducky grab the head on the plushie and rip it clean off, revealing the cotton interior.

Susie: NOOO! OH MY GOD! OH MY GAWD! She just…she just….did you see?

Dollar: Stop hyperventilating, it was just a damned plushie.

Clearly the plushie didn’t have the emotional value to Dollar that it did to Buehler, who’s teary eyes transform into a scowl of pure rage. Her entire face goes blood red as the volcano within explodes. She barrels to the ring, steam shooting out of her eyes as she slides into the ring and SPEARS Ducky down to the canvas. She is right on top of Kinneck, nailing lefts and rights, lefts and rights.

Dollar: Katelyn has absolutely snapped! We saw this type of explosive anger out of her a couple weeks ago against Eddie Vines, and earlier tonight, but I’ve never seen her quite this enraged.

Susie: I want to beat the tar out of Ducky too for killing that plushie.

Hair is snatched hold of and Buehler uses it to ram the back of her head over and over and over again against the canvas. Eventually Ducky pushes her opponent aside, sending Katelyn rolling across the ring. This gives Ducky just enough time to stand up when Buehler comes rushing in with another spear in mind. But Ducky side steps this one and sends her opponent flying through the cables to the outside where she lands on her back HARD across the mats.

However, Buehler races back to her feet, as if she feels absolutely no pain, reaching beneath the ring and grabbing something. Ducky steps right across the ring and reaches through to get her hands on Katelyn, only to instead taste GLASS. Katelyn stands up and swings a fluorescent light tube right into the top of Ducky’s skull, glass shattering and dispersing through the air.

Dollar: HOLY MOTHER! Katelyn just…just NAILED Ducky with that light tube right to the cranium.

Susie: The bitch had it coming after what she did to that plushie.

Shards of glass fly everywhere and a powdery residue is left on Ducky’s scalp as she hits the canvas. Blood actually begins to dribble down her face…

Dollar: Blood? Seriously? Katelyn just busted someone open?

Susie: I’m not even going to give her one of my Hello Kitty band-aids.

Every inch of Buehler is vibrating…but not as a result of a battery operated device…it’s rage….pure unbridled RAGE that fuels her. All of the fear has slipped away as her anger oozes through every pour. A trashcan is slid out from under the ring at this point and Buehler slides it into the ring. She then slips in herself before taking hold of the weapon once again, one she puts to immediate use.

Ducky has gotten to her knees just as the trashcan is swung right into her already lacerated forehead. An indentation of her head is left in the can as Buehler lifts the weapon into the air and brings it down again over her skull. Both trash-can AND skull are damaged by the collision that leaves Ducky swaying from side to side and the masochistic Michelle Blacker, who volunteered to ref this match, salivating.

Katelyn screams as she steps in and slams the trashcan against Ducky’s skull a third time. She collapses to her back, blood really beginning to flow down her face.

Dollar: Wow…normally Ducky would be the one who’s totally and completely ape-shit crazy, but now the straight-jacket is on the other torso, because Katelyn is the one going positively bonkers.

Susie: Did you not see what Ducky did to that plushie?

Ducky’s head and upper body is slid into the trashcan while Buehler steps to the nearest set of ropes, slipping through them to the apron. She grabs the top cable and yanks herself over into a forward flipping senton, slamming her body into the trashcan. Instead of grabbing at her neck and shoulders, which should be killing her, Buehler gets straight to her feet then bolts across the ring into the opposite cables. She ricochets off, ducks into a forward roll then flips out of it into a rolling splash right on top of the trashcan, crushing Ducky inside of it.

Dollar: What in the hell? Is Katelyn actually….wrestling? This woman has been known to botch an Irish Whip….so how is she pulling off these moves so seamlessly now?

Susie: The damage to her plushie has motivated Katelyn to actually wrestle.

The rage within Buehler can no longer keep her motivated to block the pain surging through her body, finally feeling the ill effects of her repeated slams on the trash-can. She grabs at her ribs, rolling away and under the ropes. But the roll proves fortuitous as it allows her to drop to her knees and grab ANOTHER weapon from beneath the ring. A table is slid out to a warm…no…red-hot reception.

Dollar: Now she’s bringing out a damn table. This woman has totally gone off the rails.

Susie: She’s nuttier than a jar of Jiff, but for good reason…that poor…poor plushie.

Dollar: Enough about the damn plushie.

Susie: Where are the EMTs for the plushie? Huh? Huh!?! Where are they?

Dollar: Their probably still too busy trying to piece together Dwayne Rodriquez.

Surprisingly Buehler demonstrates a great deal of strength, effortlessly setting up the table and then sliding back to the apron. Up the turnbuckle she ascends, reaching the top rope and preparing for the dive of all dives onto Ducky. That’s before she gets her bell rung as a trashcan is thrown directly into the top of her head. The steel bashes right off of her skull, causing Buehler to lose her footing and ALMOST go tumbling to the outside of the ring. She would have if her leg weren’t snagged around the top rope.. She now hangs in a tree of woe, dangling above the apron and the outside of the ring.

A bloodied and disorientated Ducky takes advantage of this position. She slips through the ropes to the apron and with the trashcan in hand delivers a skateboard dropkick, can wedged beneath her feet and driven right into Katelyn’s prone body.

Dollar: Such violence…and we all know Michelle Blacker isn’t going to do anything about it, but watch and orgasm.

Indeed, that is all Michelle does, watch…well that and fan herself off as she feels feint. Buehler is convulsing as she remains hung from the apron, and Ducky is contemplating her next move. Ducky approaches the announce table, swiping blood out of her eyes in order to get a better view of Dollar, insisting that he get up out of his chair.

Dollar: Oh lord…don’t get me involved in this…I want NO part of this.

Ducky grabs Johnny by the jacket collar and pulls him up to his feet before immediately fidgeting with his belt.

Dollar: Jesus, so forward, Ducky. Normally I only get this type of treatment after I’ve taken a woman out to dinner at Red Robin.

Susie: Bow-chica-wow-wow….aaaaahh yeah.

The belt slides right off of Dollar and then is slapped on the announce table, Ducky obviously employing it as a weapon.

Dollar: Seriously? You had to take MY belt. That’s authentic leather dammit.

Susie: That’s why I don’t wear belts to the show, I just hold my slacks together with rubber bands.

With belt in hand, Ducky approaches Buehler, still hanging upside down from the turnbuckle. She now reaches under the corner ropes and wraps the belt around Katelyn’s throat. She pulls back on the strap, choking Katelyn, who swings her arms wildly as she tries to fight free from this strangulation.

Dollar: She’s using my hundred dollar belt to choke out Buehler. I didn’t think we’d get this level of violence from these two women.

Susie: What do you expect after the murder of a defenseless plushie. You know, something about this HAS to be done…HAS to.

Dollar: Susie…oh God no…where are you going you idiot?

Moore’s headset hits the table and she’s darting around the ring and up the ramp.

Dollar: You moron, get back here! Don’t leave me out here alone with these crazy bitches.

Susie disappears through the curtains just in time to miss Ducky throwing the belt into the ring and climbing to the apron. She repeatedly kicks Katelyn to the chest and the jaw as she remains hung in the tree of woe. She now sits Katelyn up on the top rope and steps under her, wrapping arms around her waist. The fans foam at the mouths as Ducky steps out of the corner, setting up to running power bomb Katelyn off of the apron and through that ringside table. Wisely Katelyn reaches down and grabs the turnbuckle, holding on for dear life.

Buehler now begins to rifle off with right hand after right hand to the bloodied face of Ducky, further lacerating her. At last Ducky drops to her knees, forced to break the power bomb attempt while Katelyn stands up on the turnbuckle, going for God only knows what. However, the moment she reaches her feet, Ducky stands up, wedges her hands to Buehler’s backside and shoves her off the top rope, sending her flying chest and chin first right into the time keeper’s stand and ring bell.

Buehler’s face bounces back off of the steel and as she collapses to the mats, clutching at his jaw, which already is beginning to spurt blood.

Dollar: From the top right into that ring bell, and now Katelyn is bleeding as a result. These two ladies truly are hardcore.

Katelyn, bleeding mouth and jaw, rolls to her elbows and knees, DESPERATELY trying to stand up. Her emotional blaze fans the flames of her intensity, compelling her to stand up, ever so slowly, even after that nasty tumble. Ducky then runs across the mats, leaps and dives through the perpendicular ropes inserting in the corner, in order to catch Katelyn around the neck and pull her around into a tornado DDT that slams her violently right across the top of her head.

Dollar: What the hell was that!?!

It appears that Ducky has not just knocked her opponent into left field, but out of the park. She takes Buehler around the neck, holding her up and pulling her head against her chest, actually cradling Buehler and rocking back and forth.

Ducky: Love ya, Katie-Bear.

She now drags Buehler around to her feet deposits her in the ring before rolling in herself. She immediately grabs the leather belt she stole from Dollar and swings it right into the lower back of a crawling Katelyn. Instantly Buehler pops up onto her knees, bridging her back and reaching for her kidneys. Ducky then whips her again with the belt, knocking her down to her elbows. She then steps over Katelyn’s mangled spine and wraps the belt around her throat, pulling back with all her strength.

This continues to happen, much to Michelle’s glee, and to the misfortune of Buehler, who is fading quickly, her skin turning bright blue. Ducky then frees her just before Buehler could pass out, wanting her to feel absolutely everything that’s done to her. The belt remains wrapped around Katelyn’s neck, but isn’t used to choke her. She leads Buehler up to her feet and then employs the belt to snap mare her opponent over to her bum.

Buehler just lands on her seat when Ducky rushes into the ropes, ricochets off and comes charging back in with a brutal knee strike landing directly between Buehler’s eyes. Katelyn collapses to her back and Ducky falls across her chest. Blacker looks almost reluctant to make the count, quite relishing in the brutality she sees these two femmes putting each other through. At last she does her job, making the count.

1

Katelyn’s fingers extend and grab hold of something.

2

As Michelle’s hand comes down for the three, Katelyn’s hand launches into the air, shards of fluorescent tubing embedded between her finger and now driving right against Ducky’s face.

Dollar: Ohhhh…Katelyn hitting Ducky with a fist full of glass!

Ducky rolls away, clutching at her face, desperately ripping the glass out of her flesh. All the while Buehler is struggling….finally getting to her feet with glass still extending through her fingers. She approaches Ducky but then takes her eye off the ball when she spots Cassidy Haze darting down the ramp.

Dollar: As if this whole situation couldn’t get anymore violent, here comes another woman with a passion for punishment, Cassidy Haze. We all saw her fight with Buehler earlier tonight, and I’d cue up a video to relive that very moment if I wasn’t sure we’d all be forced to watch another Tommy Wiseau clip…

Dollar: NO! I didn’t even….forget it…just forget it. I’m gonna keep my mouth shut instead of encouraging Mr. Hush’s shameless exploitation of Youtube.

Cassidy leaps to the apron and waves at Katelyn, who is just dying to pummel her. She swings a glass filled fist at Haze, who jumps back just in time. Buehler then turns her focus back to her original target, charging in to deliver a knock out and impaling shot only to caught with a rock bottom into a back breaker across raised knee…the Ducky’s Revenge connects!

Dollar: And the distraction proved incredibly costly, as it just led to Ducky delivering one of her potent finishing moves. Can it quell Katelyn’s intensity?

Blood is beginning to coagulate on Ducky’s forehead, but she doesn’t een let it bother her as she crawls into the cover. A forearm is wedged against Buehler’s face as Michelle doesn’t hesitate to make the count.

1

2

Suddenly Ducky breaks her own pin, rising to her knees and pulling Katelyn’s shoulders off the canvas.

Dollar: Ducky’s not through playing just yet.

Cassidy watches on with glee as Ducky begins to drag Buehler up to her knees. From the corner of her eye, Ducky becomes distracted by something, spotting Porno Lad spinning Cassidy around on the ramp and nailing her to the gut with a kick. Porno Lad grabs Cassidy by the head and the tights, running her into the barricade and throwing her over into the crowd.

Dollar: Now Porno Lad getting involved, taking out Cassidy before she could further influence this match. This is downright crazy.

The Original Prankster holds the back of his head, still feeling the aftermath of that cane shot earlier in the night. He shouts at Ducky, getting her attention just long enough for her to drop her guard when it comes to Buehler.

The woman of much violence and many personalities, screeches, through a mask of blood, at Porno Lad, actually asking him to get into the ring.

Dollar: I think for the first time in his life, Porno Lad is turning down the opportunity to participate in a three way.

Ducky sneers as her intended victim shakes his head. She then turns back to the ring where an Epic Fail drills her to the lacerated forehead, delivered by Buehler. Ducky is knocked to the canvas and Katelyn collapses on top of her. Blacker makes the count to joyous noise from the crowd.

Dollar: Buehler with her own Epic Fail delivered right on point, straight to Ducky’s face, and she’s got the pin…she’s got the pin right now!

Blacker slaps the canvas to cheers from the crowd.

1

2

Porno Lad’s heart sinks when he sees Ducky launch a shoulder from the ring, kicking out moments before the three.

Dollar: JESUS! Ducky kicks out! Only a very short list of people have ever kicked out of the Epic Fail.

Stunned…it’s the only way to describe the fans, who all remain upright as they watch this bloody brawl continue. One interested observer is forced to turn away when Porno Lad is grabbed by the shoulder, spun around by Haze and nailed with a right hand. Porno Lad responds with one of his own and then steps over the barricade, he and Cassidy continuing their escalating campaign of violence as they brawl through the crowd.

A blood drenched Ducky crawls away from Buehler, who staggers to her feet and limps towards the belt that was introduced into this match earlier. She picks it up and swings, nailing Ducky against the lower back, leading to the same body spasms that she herself suffered moments ago. Another shot to the spine nails her to the back, and then another, and another.

Ducky inches across her knees and then falls through the ropes to the apron, Buehler following with belt still in hand. She slips through the cables and wraps the belt around her fist, about to employ it cushion her punches to Ducky’s blood soaked face. She steps in to deliver another shot only to be caught with a kick to the gut, doubling her over. Ducky quickly drags the head under her seat, wraps arms around her waist then heaves her up into a piledriver off the apron and through the table sat up at ringside.

Dollar: AAAHHHH, Ducky just gave Buehler the piledriver THROUGH THE TABLE! DAMN!

Splinters have embedded themselves in Buehler’s head, lying comatose beside a blood saturated Ducky. Neither lady is moving for what seems like an eternity, while the crowd gives a rousing ‘holy shit’ chant.

Dollar: This is terrible….absolutely terrible…nothing may get the blood stains out of my belt.

It takes a while for Ducky to recover, but she at last gets to her feet, grabs the ankle of her opponent and drags her from the broken fragments of table towards the ring. The agonizing Ducky pulls Buehler to her feet and then rolls her into the ring. A trail of blood is left behind by Buehler, her scalp badly lacerated by the tumble through the table.

Dollar: And now Buehler is REALLY bleeding buckets. How much more can these two ladies do to each other?

Under the ring Ducky reaches, grabbing hold of ANOTHER fluorescent light tube. The crowd cringes at the sight of the weapon that Ducky pulls to the side of her face, rubbing her blood smattered cheek against it. She then rolls into the ring just as Buehler slowly gets to her knees, swaying from side to side. A crimson mask conceals her face as she bobs like a buoy in the ocean.

Every last vestige of strength is summoned in order to reach her feet.

Dollar: Are you kidding? How is she standing up?

The crowd is applauding, putting their hands together out of respect for Buehler, finding her upward ascent to be truly courageous. She stands up tall and Ducky pulls back the light tube only to watch as Buehler smiles and passes out, collapsing to the canvas. The light-tube is tossed and Ducky drops into the cover, hooking both legs.

1

2

3

Dollar: And it’s over…Jesus Christ it’s FINALLY over…Katelyn Buehler pinned by Ducky after a freakishly chaotic war. Ducky came in and defeated her, but Buehler finally stood up, showed a back-bone and conquered her fears.

A just deserved standing ovation is given to the absolutely BRUTAL bout these two femme fatales just participated in. Ducky crawls away from her damaged prey, blood dripping to the canvas beneath her. She slowly gets to her knees, letting the crowd get a glimpse of her crimson mask, only the whites of her eyes visible amongst the red palate. She employs the ropes to reach her feet then turns her head to see Buehler squirming. Katelyn rolls to her side, taking shallow breathes, pupils rolled into the back of her skull.

Dollar: This is…this was….pure carnage. And….well look at this…she FINALLY did something smart.

A stretcher is pushed from the backstage area by EMTS, who are currently being led by Susie Moore. The commentator waves them on urgently towards the ring, towards the individual…or individuals…in dire need of medical help. The fans are happy to see them give aide to the two women who desperately need it. BUT…their reaction changes when they realize the injured party their servicing is…the plushie. They work ever so slowly, careful to transport the beheaded plushie from the mats to the stretcher, all under the ever watchful eyes of Susie Moore.

Dollar: Oh…well…I guess Susie got the EMTS out here to aide the plushie….Am I supposed to be shocked by this? Because surprisingly, I’m not.

The EMTS go through the motions at the behest of Moore, checking the pulse rate and blood pressure of a headless plushie. While in the ring Ducky is stooped over, patting a bloodied Katelyn on top of her head, giving her hair a tussle.

The Rising Phoenix walks in circles around the locker-room, growing increasingly impatient as he stares into the cell-phone, hoping and praying that it rings. Eyes dart between the time on the phone and the clock on the wall, making sure that it’s totally accurate.

Christian: Come on Rose, traffic can’t be that damned bad. Where are you?

As if in answer to his prayers the phone jingles and vibrates, letting him know that he’s received a text message. He hits the dialogue box icon and instantly the message appears, originating from the World Heavyweight Champion. A sigh of relief escapes his lungs, a load of pressure taken off of him when he sees his wife‘s name attached to the message.

Christian: Thank God….wait…what do you mean your in Orlando’s office?

He reads the message a little closer.

Christian: Why in the hell would you be in Orlando’s office? That can’t be right.

Urgently Christian dials the number to his wife only for his call to go unanswered.

Christian: Guess Orlando and I are going to have a nice little face to face.

In spite of giving no answers Christian continues trying to dial his wife’s number before heading for….you guessed it….a meeting with the Icon.

Dollar: Oh lord no, this is NOT going to be good, Christian Savior is about to meet up with Orlando Cruze. If you thought what you just saw in the ring was explosive, just wait till you see what happens when the Icon and the Rising Phoenix cross paths. And why is Rose meeting with Orlando to begin with? I guess we’re going to find out just moments from now.

Susie: That’s too long…do we really need to see more advertisements? Especially if their not related to candy?

Dollar: We’re gonna have answers in just a few moments.

wait…I’m getting word that something ELSE is happening backstage as well. Get cameras back there pronto!

Surprisingly…not to mention oddly…Mr. Hush doesn’t cut to some goofy viral video, and instead the footage transitions straight into the sight of Nathan Creed pushing the bound Lukas Montgomery towards the ring.

Dollar: It looks like we’re about to see Lukas Montgomery again…and Nathan Creed is the one about to use him to own nefarious means. Getting his hands on the rest of the Blacklist.

Susie: The Blacklist are more in demand tonight than videos of former child-stars acting like drunken lunatics.

Dollar: Indeed, Creed leading him towards the ring, but for what reason? Guess, we‘ll find out the answer to that question as well when we come back from commercial break.

Susie: Damn you commercial breaks! You better be advertising toy…toys that are shiny and colorful.

Dollar: We’ll have to wait and see, just like we’ll have to wait and see what happens between Creed and Montgomery, plus Cruze and Christian…moments from now.

MOMENTS AGO

Much to the glee of Johnny Dollar, a still frame is featured of the conclusion to the three way match moments ago. Instead of a you tube clip, we get an image of Brittany Lohan brandishing a crowbar, and laying to waste both of her opponents…

Dollar: Oh my God…OMG….FINALLY. It looks like we’re going to get a video rehashing what just went down before the commercial break, which allows me save some of my precious oxygen. Just moments ago, THIS is what took place at the conclusion of the triple threat….

Just before we can witness the pinfall, and the vicious physical tirade of Lohan, utilizing her weapon of choice to do damage to the champions, while at the same time sending a message to her tag team partner, Kathryn Pearson watching from ringside….you guessed it…the feed is interrupted, and instead we’re taken to a close up shot of Bob’s face. He looks oh so dramatic, even with grease oozing from the corners of his mouth. Pure white seems to surround his multicolored afro and chubby cheeks, the ones on his face and the ones on his bum.

Bob: Bob ate ham, in a loinclothe, dancing with Mnooses in vain

The Mnooses fell into your parsley patch

The numbers always change

Don’t ever say Bob just rolled away

Bob will always want ham

Bob can’t ever stop living without Mnooses, counting those in your parsley patch

Bob will always want ham

The scene suddenly changes to a loinclothe clad Bob swinging around on a giant piece of ham, supported by a chain. He crashes through a parsley patch while leaning back to give the camera a seductive glare.

Bob: BOB came in like a WRECKING BOB!

Bob never had gas this bad

All Bob wanted was to break some wind

All ham ever did was give Bob a tummy ache

Yeah, Mnooses dance with Bob

The clip switches to Bob seductively lubing the side of his face with a ham, smearing it all over his lips as he sits Indian style on the floor. For some reason a Tay-Tay sheer dress wraps around only his chest, as that’s as far as he could get it down over his blubbery body.

Bob: Bob see Mnooses piled as high as the sky

And now Bob can’t stop counting all the Mnooses

But the Mnooses slowly turned, and twiggled your wiggie.

And now, the Mnooses are all over your parsley patch

Somehow Bob becomes even more scantily clad as he swings through the air on a giant ham, again smashing through the parsley patch.

Bob: BOB came in like a WRECKING BOB

Bob never had gas this bad

All Bob wanted was to break soome wind

All ham ever did was give Bob a tummy ache

Yeah, Mnooses dance with Bob

At last censors intervene before we could see the predominantly nude Bob interacting with his three most favorite things, ham, mnooses, and parsley patches.

Johnny Dollar’s eyes are huge, saucer huge. Susie in the meanwhile is fanning herself off, sweat pouring down her face.

Dollar: What….in the hell…did we just see? I feel like my eyes have been raped.

Susie: Am the only one who just orgasmed?

The arena lights dim as the opening riffs of the track that Mr. Hush selected for Creed start to pump into the arena. The first person the fans see though, is NOT the returning Nathan Creed, but Lukas Montgomery, STILL positioned on the wheelchair. His head hangs slumped to his side, eyes rolled to the back of his head with a huge knot on his forehead. Finally, the real man the crowd was eager to see, Nathan Creed, steps to the stage behind him, hands gripping the handles of the chair and a half smirk present on his face.

Dollar: And here we go AGAIN! Is this show stuck on some type of perpetual loop or something?

Susie: We’re in Groundhog’s Day? Oh no…I want to be Bill Murray then, you can be Chris Elliot.

Dollar: Nobody wants to be Chris Elliot…not even Chris Elliot wants to be Chris Elliot.

The crowd is incredibly hyped at the sight of Creed, who continues on his way to the ring, shoving the wheelchair and the victim loaded upon it, all the way down to the end of the ramp. Lukas is eventually left in the very same place Kathryn put him a few moments ago, but now Montgomery isn’t unconscious from boredom, but from some type of blow delivered to his skull. To the apron Creed ascends, microphone taken from Jessica Wilde.

Nathan: I know…I know…things are getting a little redundant. Didn’t we just see someone come out here bitching, complaining, and making all kinds of demands for poor lil Lukas‘ safe return to the rest of the Blacklist nutters? Didn’t play out too well for Mrs. Pearson did it? But you know what makes this blackmail different? The fact that it’s me, Nathan Creed, the Best of Britain, making the demands.

The crowd pops predictably loud for Creed, hoping that he does get better results.

Nathan: I’m not going to settle for some steroid ripped pillock in a padded brazier….I want the Blacklist…or more accurately…what’s left of the Blacklist….to march on here, step into this ring and get what’s coming to them.

Dollar: Nathan Creed is using Lukas Montgomery to lure Aaron Harrison and Mika Kozlov to the ring. This guy is just as crazy as Kathryn Pearson….and he has worse teeth.

Susie: Don’t forget the box head.

Insane….a term to describe the Blacklist….and now to define Nathan Creed….evident by the fact that he’s about to go to war with two members of the Blacklist all by his lonesome.

Nathan: Contract or no contract, your not making it to any title match, Harrison, you git…because I’m going to do what Orlando should have from the very beginning, deal with you, right this very…

Xander: Nathan…buddy, I’m sorry…but that’s not happening…at least not tonight.

The crowd couldn’t get anymore enthusiastic as Xander Cassius moves to the stage, the very man who had a war with Lukas Montgomery earlier tonight, before being forced to watch his partner, Dwayne Rodriquez destroyed at the hands of the Blacklist. So obviously he’s motivated and then some, to get payback on Kozlov and Harrison. With Arthur Magnus behind him, the two head towards the ring but it’s only Xander who enters.

Xander: I’m not through with the Blacklist, Nathan, not by a long shot. Mika Kozlov and I, we have some unfinished business, and I hate to leave things undone. So before I vacate this ring, I have to….I NEED….to see Mika in the same state she left Dwayne in earlier tonight…But I won’t stop there, not until I’ve severed all three heads from this hydra that’s been terrorizing the IWC. Aaron Harrison, he’ll be next on the chopping block….

Nathan: Now I feel the need to apologize, Xander, because I can see the determination, the anger, the rage inside. You really want to get your hands on the Blacklist tonight…and although it would be a tremendous accolade to destroy the three of them by myself, in my first night back….I’ll sacrifice that honor and play things a little smarter. I propose that the two of us mutually work together to ensure the total annihilation of the….

Gavin: You two couldn’t find your way out of a Denny’s parking lot.

The reaction that both Creed and Cassius got, is not the one Gavin Taylor receives. He and Adam Chase are not well received, like ants at a picnic, like flies in a horse’s eye, like crabs on crotch….they are not shown any appreciation. Neither man cares about the crowd’s reaction as the All Star continues towards the ring, Adam bringing up the rear, but like Arthur, he lingers beyond the very ropes that his client slides through.

Taylor: So what makes you think you’ll be able to handle the Blacklist? You…Xander…in the very limited time I’ve spent acknowledging your existence…and believe me…it’s very brief…I’ve seen that your nothing but a mindless brawler. Sure you can fight Harrison and Kozlov and Montgomery on a physical level, but half the threat they pose is mental. Their masters of manipulation, and I’m afraid you just don’t have the brain power necessary to match wits with them. You probably couldn’t even figure out one of those mazes on a kid‘s meal place-mat, let alone challenge Kozlov or Harrison on a psychological front….and Nathan Creed…

Nathan steps back with arms crossed over chest, eager to hear what Taylor has to say about him.

Taylor: Your just a meddling snaggletooth moron.

Nathan snickers.

Taylor: You’re ancient…you’re bones probably consist of 97 percent dust. You’ll be too busy getting a prostate exam to concentrate on crushing the Blacklist. Besides, your actions last week…well…they demonstrate that you’re WAY too impulsive. If you can’t control your outbursts when around friends, like Orlando, what makes you think your gonna be capable of keeping a level head when fighting the Blacklist? Face it guys…

Cassius and Creed exchange a glance, realizing their both being insulted simultaneously at this point.

Taylor:…neither one of you can match up with the Blacklist like I can. I’m motivated after the crap they pulled on Taylor Chase tonight…I’m talented enough to fight them physically…and with the combined brain power of myself and Adam here….we’re more than capable of outwitting these three jokers. So why not go ahead, save yourselves the injuries and the embarrassment, and get the hell out of the All-Star’s way.

Nathan and Xander continue exchanging stares, wondering which one will respond. At last Xander lifts a microphone to his lips, ready to unleash a tirade before he’s grabbed by the wrist, the microphone guided down from his lips when….

Harrison: Boys…boys…boys….the testosterone levels are through the roof here…

Aaron’s voice hits the PA system, leading to an absolute uproar of sheer rage from the crowd, and for good reason, as this is a tell-tale sign that the Blacklist has arrived….or at least one third of them…Through the curtains steps Aaron Harrison, continuing to display a total and complete lack of emotion.

Dollar: And here is one of the men that everyone wants a piece of tonight, Aaron Harrison, who looks like he’s got something to say.

Xander has lost all semblance of composure, moments form slipping through the ropes before Aaron dissuades him with a simple statement delivered in normal stoic fashion.

Harrison: You all need to calm down, and give me just one second to say my peace. I think each of you will be interested in hearing what I have to say.

Just before Cassius can rush up the ramp and CRUSH Harrison, Nathan takes him by the wrist, intrigued by the Blacklist spokesmen.

Harrison: I’m not the villain here…I’m not the big-bad. No. If you really dwell upon it, you’ll see that the only monster running amok in this company is Orlando Cruze. He’s playing us all off each other in order to distract us from his corruption, to keep us from rising up to challenge him for the World Heavyweight Title. He’s truly a master manipulator….take for instance the nasty rumor I just caught wind of. I heard that Orlando Cruze signed a contract for a match….well…you know what…I think you should all find out about it when Orlando grows the hair on his testicles and comes out here to announce it himself. And that’s exactly what’s going to happen. He’s going to come out here and reveal himself for the scoundrel he truly is. Which is why I’m ducking out of the World Title match tonight…I realize that I too was just being manipulated by Cruze…that he WANTED me to take out Tay-Tay, so that he wouldn’t have to rob his ‘love’ of the Championship, so he could keep his ego maniacal mitts upon it without looking like a bad-guy in front of his gal-pal. He’s going to have to come out and show his true colors to everyone, Tay-Tay included it instead of using me to distract you fans, and the roster from the truth….from his manipulation. So no, I‘m not challenging for the championship, and I‘m not being Orlando‘s pawn, any longer.

Creed is suddenly disappointed in himself for not allowing Xander to just pummel Harrison, as now he’s left in a state of total confusion. The look of bewilderment is mirrored by both Cassius and Taylor as well. This is perhaps the first and final time all three men will ever be on the same page.

Harrison: But if you three want to play along…if you want to be Orlando’s puppets, which I’m no longer content to be…by all means, come up here, attack me, and be done with it.

He drops the mic and decides to employ gesticulations to express himself, lifting his fingers and urging the trio to bring it.. Xander is already diving through the ropes before he can finish the gesture.

Dollar: These three wanted a war, and that’s exactly what Harrison is giving them, after announcing that he’s pulling himself from the World Title bout, based on something that Orlando signed, that’s apparently going to paint him in a very negative light. But where’s Mika?

Susie: Mika…I like that name….it sounds so Russian.

Dollar: That’s because she IS Russian, Susie.

Susie: Awesome…I hope she wears one of those big fuzzy hats.

The crowd is enthused at the prospect of Harrison at long…long….long last getting what’s coming to him, especially at the hands of Rodriquez’s tag team partner. The moment he reaches the ramp though, his wrist is caught and he’s spun around by Gavin, who yanks him forward into a Real Men Use Lariats. The bicep wraps around Xander’s neck and brings him down to the ramp with Taylor landing directly beside him.

Dollar: WAAAIT! Gavin just took out Cassius with that lethal lariat.

Susie: I think Gavin wants Harrison all to himself.

Harrison watches with amusement, even as Taylor gives him the type of glare that would shrivel a man’s testicles. Nathan has slipped through the ropes, also about to pursue Harrison, but hesitates. He lingers half in and out of the ring for several moments, eyebrow arched and head tilted, realizing that something isn’t quite right. His suspicions prove accurate when he turns and spots Kozlov sneaking from the crowd and stepping to Lukas’ side, already beginning to unshackle him with the use of a lock-pick.

Dollar: Harrison was a distraction…he turned everyone’s attention away from Lukas so Mika could swoop in and unlock him…BUT….Nathan didn’t fall for it.

Susie: I guess those with box shaped heads are naturally more intelligent.

Mika has no idea that the plot has not panned out the way she had envisioned, continuing to unlatch Montgomery. Meanwhile Gavin is storming right up the ramp in the direction of Harrison, who slowly backs through the curtains. All the while Cassius, shaken up by the lariat, CRAWLS up the ramp, in total desperation to get his hands on Harrison and NOW Taylor.

Dollar: Neither Cassius NOR Taylor realize that this was all just a set up by the Blacklist. They’re just allowing Mika to rescue their one bargaining chip.

Mika has one of Lukas’ hands unshackled before Nathan comes barreling across the ring and diving through the ropes. Kozlov looks up as Nathan soars right into them with the diving head butt, colliding with both herself AND the wheelchair bound Montgomery. Lukas falls over backwards still trapped in the chair while Creed and Mika collapse right out in front of the announce table.

Dollar: Whoa now! They’re getting too close for comfort!

Susie: Jeezal Petes, this is the best 3D I’ve ever seen.

Dollar: You’re not even wearing 3D glasses you idiot.

A fired up Creed grabs Mika by the hair, dragging her to her feet and propping her back first against the announce table. He then delivers a knife edge chop across her chest, followed by another that bruises her sternum. Mika, instead of crying out in pain, actually forms a smile. This prompts Creed to be even more vicious towards the woman who assaulted him last week. A third knife edge chop threatens to shatter her clavicle. He now takes her by the hair, runs her to the ring and rolls her in under the ropes.

Referee Fitzpatrick is bolting towards the squared circle, sliding in at the same time as Britain’s Finest. The official calls for the bell while Creed steps through the ropes only to have Mika rush in and deliver a knee lift to his temple.

Dollar: And we’ve got yet another match starting in chaotic fashion. Creed and Kozlov instantly going at it. I ALMOST feel bad for the officiating staff tonight, if I had sympathy that is, they‘ve been forced to be on the ball all night long/

Susie: Serves them right, cause those zebra stripes are not flattering on them at all.

Creed has spilled to the apron but is already back on his feet when Mika springs off the ropes running perpendicular to the ones Creed is standing on the opposite side of, twists in mid-air and catches Nathan with a dropkick to the shoulder.

Nathan is launched off the apron and through the air before eventually crashing right down into the announce table.

Dollar: Why is our announce table such a focal point for all these lunatics? Where’s my protective pope bubble?

Susie: Probably the same place they’re keeping my Kindle. How am I supposed to re-watch A He-Man, She-Ra Christmas Special now that they’ve commandeered my kindle?

Creed slides down the announce table and then rolls away, gripping at his battered torso. Some obvious ring rust seems to be taking its toll as Nathan moves a bit more sluggishly, muscles not use to this type of exertion after such a long rest period. He gets to his feet just in time for Mika to leap off the apron and connect with a big lariat to his throat, knocking them both down to the mats.

The smiling Kozlov, who never loses her grin it seems, pulls Creed to his feet before taking his wrist and whipping him towards the steel barricade. But wait, Creed perhaps lulled Mika into a false sense of security. He turns and reverses the whip, sending Mika right into the barrier. She turns and slams forcefully against the barricade with Nathan leaping to the apron, and re-entering the ring to break the official’s count.

He rolls back out and rushes right at Mika, who steps forward to take him down with a lariat. Creed ducks just in time though, slipping around behind Kozlov, wrapping his arms around her waist and setting up for a German suplex on the thin protective mats.

Dollar: This might finally take that smile off Kozlov’s face, Creed’s about to drop her right on her neck.

The point of Kozlov’s elbow catches Nathan right to the orbital socket, causing him to break the rear waist-lock. She then reaches back and takes Creed around the neck, rushing at the ring. She steps up the exterior of the turnbuckle post and then spins around, going for a springboard bulldog that connects, driving Nathan’s face directly into the mats.

Dollar: And just like that, Mika is right back in control, nailing a bulldog that may have rearranged Creed’s good looks…sorry, I tried to say that with a straight face.

Susie: Why? It wouldn’t matching Nathan’s face right now.

Nathan rolls to his back, grabbing at his face while Mika slides into the ring and then back out to the apron. She steps to the edge of the apron and then dives off into a big splash that connects right across the exposed Nathan’s chest and rib-cage.

Dollar: What a SPLASH!

Susie: But Mika only weighs like 25 pounds, how could it be that BIG of a splash?

Kozlov rolls away from the splash, hurting herself in the process of hurting Creed, but doing much greater damage to her opponent. Surprisingly Nathan absorbs the punishment and comes back for more, crawling in the direction of the ring and desperately dragging himself up with the aid of the apron. Just as he gets to his feet Mika steps around to stand on the opposite side of the turnbuckle post he was employing to reach his feet. Kozlov reaches around the post and takes both of Nathan’s wrists, pulling him forward nose first right into the turnbuckle. His head bashes off of the steel and he goes twisting into the ring, rolling in under the ropes.

He puts a palm to his swelling nose and slowly starts to stand up when Mika steps up the turnbuckle that has proved such an effective weapon for her thus far. She steps over the top rope and waits for Creed to get up, and the moment he does, she reaches down grabbing his wrists. His arms are outstretched towards her and she’s diving off, planting a knee to his chest. As Nathan collapses onto his back, Mika comes down knee first into his sternum.

Dollar: Almost a curb-stomp variation from Kozlov off that top rope using her knee instead of her foot.

Kozlov tucks into a forward roll after hitting the move, ending up on her feet before dashing into the ropes. She springs from the middle cable, flipping completely over backwards into the moonsault that connects across Creed’s banged up ribs and bruised chest. She then falls into the lateral press.

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2

Creed kicks out, resulting in a wave of enthusiasm from the crowd. The kick-out does not upset Mika, who stands up and leaps into the air, dropping at last knee first right against Nathan’s face. Creed clutches at his skull and sits up, putting him in a very unenviable position, Mika swooping in behind him. She takes both of Nathan’s arms and puts him in a full nelson…but instead of using her arms to apply the hold, she employs her legs.

Nathan almost immediately toys with the notion of tapping out due to the pain coursing through his arms. Somehow he’s tolerating it though, trying to fight his way through.

Susie: Mika must use a thigh-master.

Dollar: Kozloz utilizing a unique variation of the full nelson, by applying the hold with her legs rather than her arms.

Mika’s ankles are crossed behind Creed’s head, and will not be pried apart, no matter how many times Nathan twists from one side to the other. He’s doing absolutely everything in his power to stave off defeat, but too much damage has been done, and submission might be his only counter to this hold.

Just when he begins to fade, just when he starts to fall to his side Creed pushes back with his own legs, causing Mika to fall onto her shoulders with Creed bridging back in an unorthodox pinning predicament.

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2

Kozlov is forced to break the submission as Nathan now turns, and begins to step through the very legs that were locked around his shoulders. He tries to apply a sharpshooter variation perhaps when Mika twists her body and drop toe holds him down to the canvas. Nathan lands on his elbows and knees while Kozlov leaps over his upper back and pulls up on his arms, applying a traditional full nelson from a camel clutch variation.

Dollar: That didn’t last long for Creed….he’s back on the defensive all over again.

The crowd is losing hope, as is Nathan, who’s time away from the ring seems to have cost him dearly. He tries to get up, prompting Kozlov to release one of his arms and reach down, digging her fingers into Nathan’s nostril and cheek, fish hooking the Underdog. The official starts a five count before Kozlov reapplies the FULL full nelson. She then begins to deliver head butts to the back of Creed’s neck, doing even greater damage.

She even begins to bite his ear at this point, threatening to rip it right off and spit it across the arena. The official chastises her until she stops gnawing on the flesh. That last move was enough for Nathan, turning him downright primal. He forces himself up unto his knees and with a roar drops his head forward, flipping Mika right over top of him.

She rolls across the canvas to her feet while Creed gets to a standing base just in time to catch the inbound Kozlov under his arm. He heaves her up into a Canadian Back breaker only to have Mika flip upand over his shoulder, landing behind him and then leaping into the air. She wraps her arms around his neck, applying a sleeper hold.

Dollar: AGAIN…Mika is tackling this match in a more methodical, technical style. She is just wearing Creed down with submission after submission after submission.

Susie: Now she’s riding him like he’s a mechanical bull. Can she hold on for eight seconds?

She could probably hang on for double that time span as Nathan is falling to a knee, wearing down and wearing down rapidly. Sweat cascades down his face, which turns a bright shade of red, and now blue due to oxygen deprivation.

Dollar: Creed is gonna pass out…There may no other alternative at this point.

Or so Nathan made it appear. At the last seconds, moments from quitting, Creed stands, reaches back with his free arm and wraps it around the neck of Kozlov. He then leaps into the air and comes down with almost a stunner variation while Mika was still wrapped around him. Kozlov’s head snaps back and she collapses to her back with Nathan turning over, hooking both of her legs.

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Kozlov gets a shoulder up, staving off defeat. Nathan sits on the canvas, appearing frustrated by the kick-out, especially after this very physical encounter. He gets to his feet, sweating profusely, Mika’s wear down tactics working quite effectively. She is already rising to her feet when Nathan steps in and takes her around the waist, hoisting her up into a big Canadian Back breaker. Once again Mika flips up and over his shoulder though, landing right behind him. She then goes back to the same well, leaping into the air in order to apply the sleeper and body vice with her legs.

It doesn’t work out quite so well this time, Nathan spinning around, catching the interior of her thighs and throwing her up onto his shoulders. He then drops down and delivers a power bomb back breaker.

Dollar:Ohhhh….SNAP…probably the sound Mika’s back just made.

Kozlov flips off of his knee and lands on her feet, reaching for his kidneys. She isn’t allowed to stay there for long though, as Nathan stands up, takes her around the waist and hoists her up into a Canadian Back-breaker directly across his raised knee.

Dollar: And ANOTHER back-breaker for equal measure. Two high impact moves and Creed is RIGHT back in this.

Nathan is TOO winded to go for the pin, utilizing his last bits of energy to deliver those two back-breaker variations. In spite of his exhaustion, Creed gets to his feet, takes the legs of his opponent, wraps them around his own and then rolls her over to her stomach. He leans right back into the sharpshooter on Kozlov, who pushes herself up onto her elbows, instantly telling the referee that she has no intention of submitting. Though, secretly she does toy with the idea, as the pain coursing through her back is downright indescribable.

Dollar: Would be a great moment for Creed if he marks his return with a submission victory.

Just when it seems that this may very well be in the realm of possibilities for Creed, Kozlov summons what little reserves of strength she has left. She drags herself towards the ropes and reaches out, grabbing the bottom cable. Official Fitzpatrick gets in Nathan’s face, commencing with the five count before Creed at last breaks the submission.

He steps forward and bends in the center of the ring, huffing and puffing for air. He then turns towards Mika and steps back in to get the advantage when Kozlov jabs him right in the eye with a well placed thumb. Fitzpatrick is all over Kozlov for the blatant eye gouge, but she shows no respect for any semblance of rules, even tossing the official aside as she descends upon her opponent. However, Creed catches her around the waist and drops back, throwing Mika over head with a belly to belly suplex. Half way across the ring Mika is thrown, crashing into the canvas across her back and reaching for her kidneys.

Dollar: Good lord, what a belly to belly suplex. Nathan just tossed Mika the length of the ring with that move, it was like she was launched out of a catapult.

Mika desperately drags herself up to her feet with the use of the turnbuckle as Nathan gathers himself and then comes barreling in. However, he’s caught with a leaping knee directly to the jaw. The full force of the impact causes Creed to go stumbling back, clutching at his mouth while Mika springs to the middle rope, then leaps off, twisting into a lariat. Creed side steps it though and catches Kozlov coming down with a crossface. She lands on the canvas with Nathan sitting up beside her, leaning back with hands interlocked under her jaw.

Dollar: Creed’s got the crossface latched on….he’s got it…he’s got it….he’s got it! He might just get that submission after-all.

Susie: Yeah, I hope he does win, as long as he doesn’t smile. If I see anymore of his teeth I might upchuck.

Dollar: Didn’t you just do that backstage after eating a cracker?

Susie: Would you stop with the bulimia jokes?

Kozlov at last gasps in pain, reaching out with her hand and preparing to slap the canvas.

Dollar: Is she going to submit? Is she going to tap out?

Susie: Quit asking me the hard questions.

Just before tapping out Kozlov ducks her head, rolls forward across the canvas and thinks she’s escaped the hold. Unfortunately for her, Nathan has rolled right along with Kozlov, breaking the crossface and ending up on his feet with his opponent sprawled across her back. He quickly transitions around her legs, stepping through them and then rolling her over to her stomach, applying a sharpshooter to the mother of all pops from the crowd.

Dollar: She tried to roll through but ended up right back in the sharpshooter…I don’t know what’s worse, crossface or this?

Susie: If you ask me one more question I swear my head’s gonna explode.

Mika pushes herself up onto her elbows, frantically shaking her head at the persistence of the referee that she submit. No…she won’t do it…she won’t give in to Fitzpatrick’s demands. She digs her claws into the canvas, pulling herself desperately across the ring in the direction of the cables…but there so far away…so incredibly far. The official turns away from Mika momentarily to make sure all his kosher with Creed’s submission. But while his back is turned he doesn’t notice that Montgomery, has used the lock pick that was dropped earlier to unshackle himself, and is now reaching under the ropes, taking hold of Mika’s wrists. He pulls on them, dragging Kozlov into the cables so that she can grab hold of them.

Dollar: Lukas has freed himself from the wheelchair and now…now he’s helping Kozlov get to the ropes, which unsurprisingly, the referee has totally failed to notice. Can any of these refs grow half a brain?

Susie: Yeah, idiots get on my nerves.

Dollar: I know the feeling.

Kozlov clutches the bottom rope desperately, even wrapping her arms around it as well. Nathan looked up towards the Cartel-tron to see the positioning of his opponent, but before he could drag her to the center of the ring he witnessed Montgomery’s treacherous act. So when the official steps around and implores him to break the sharpshooter, he’s none too eager to follow orders. In fact, he outright refuses to break the hold on the basis of the Blacklist’s cheating.

Fitzpatrick starts a five count, but the closer Fitzpatrick gets to issuing the disqualification, the more aggressive Creed becomes with the submission. He pulls as far back on the hold as possible, almost shattering her lower back even as the official finally reaches five. It pains Fitzpatrick to do it but he’s forced to turn and call for the bell, disqualifying Creed on the basis that he would NOT break the hold.

Dollar: Nathan is disqualified…but something tells me that doesn’t matter…He’s out for a little thing we in the business call…retribution.

Susie: He’s angrier than me that time I spent two hours watching Ghost Dog: Way of the Samurai, and didn’t realize to the credits that it wasn’t about a spectral crime fighting canine. I was so mad I tried to rip the DVD box apart, and if it wasn’t made of such tough plastic I totally would of. Instead all I got was blisters on my hands.

Dollar: Why are you still talking?

Susie: Probably the same reason Creed hasn’t broke this hold…enjoyment.

Nathan leans back on the submission in spite of the bell chiming and Fitzpatrick’s demands. It takes a physical approach to finally encourage Creed to release Mika from her trauma. Montgomery slides into the ring and rushes right up behind Creed, throwing alariat at the back of his head when Nathan breaks the sharpshooter and catches his inbound arm. Before Lukas can put the kabosh on it, or even realize what’s going on, he’s FORCED down to the canvas and trapped in the crossface.

Dollar: Now the crossface is locked in again, this time on Montgomery! Nathan is a one person demolition crew…he’s taking out the Blacklist just like he swore that he would.

Lukas grimaces in pain, reaching his hand into the air on the cusp of tapping out to the submission when Kozlov returns the favor of her partner in crime. She reaches under the ropes, grabs Lukas’ ankle and drags him to the outside of the ring, prying him out of the clutches of Creed.

Dollar: And Mika now the one forced to save her tag team partner before any further punishment could be inflicted. As if Montgomery hasn’t been through enough already tonight.

Susie: And why should he have any right to complain? He got to ride around in a wheelchair all night long. If only I were so lucky.

Lukas slides to the outside of the ring, landing right beside Mika, the two propping one another up after this very physical onslaught from Britain’s Finest, who stands triumphant in the ring even though he lost the bout. Victory was achieved, not via pinfall or submission, but through the punishment Creed inflicted on the pair who are wisely walking away from the fight.

Dollar: And the Blacklist is actually…leaving. I guess fighting with Creed didn’t factor into their plans.

Creed stomps around the ring like a caged beast, desperate to gnaw on the first piece of meat that enters his domain. However, Mika and Montgomery are climbing over the barricade and escaping before any more members of the roster come looking for their blood. Nathan snarls as he watches the pair disappear in the crowd, not through with the Blacklist by a long shot.

Hands continue to engulf the face of Orlando Cruze, elbows perched on the edge of his desk. He leans forward into his hands, at a total and complete loss for words. Instead of sitting in the office of the Board of Directors, desperately defending his actions of late, here he sits in his own office, desperately trying to figure out how he could be so easily tricked by the Blacklist, and grappling what an annoying scratching noise that pesters him so. His thoughts are interspersed between feelings of regret, really wishing he hadn’t signed the contract a few moments ago, and that he could tell the impatient Taylor Chase about it. But he can’t…in spite of all the prodding questions, posed by the Chase family seated in chairs on the opposite side of the desk.

Tay-Tay: Talk to us handsome. What…what did you do?

Like daughter like father….the two hound Orlando to his breaking point.

The Brod: My girl needs an explanation, Orlando.

Frankie: Yeah, BOSS, why don’t you spill the beans already?

Implores Frankie as he steps in and takes a seat on the edge of the desk. He’s still sending out some crucial tweets while wearing a giant smirk on his face.

The Brod: Hey Kid, don’t you have a match to be getting yourself ready for? One that’s crucial to the success of my Pumpkin here tonight?

Frankie: Yeah, maybe I should be moving on along here….

Orlando: No-no, I actually need to talk to you Franklin.

In spite of the use of his formal name, much to Paradise’s annoyance, he bites his tongue….almost chewing it off actually.

Frankie: Erm…okay then…kind of had some stuff to do but I can hold off on that for a few minutes.

Orlando: Babe…

Frankie: Aww. Thanks, Lando, to hear that coming from you….

Orlando: I’m talking to Tay-Tay.

Frankie: Oh.

Cruze turns to address Taylor, interrupting a brief aside she was having with her father.

Orlando: Maybe you should start getting geared up for your match. And Brod.

The Brod is ripped away from his conversation with his Daughter.

Orlando: I’ll have security PERSONALLY escort you to your chair….front row center to watch your daughter’s crowning achievement.

The Brod: Pfft, no need for security, you think anyone’s going to tangle with these guns?

He flexes his biceps AGAIN.

Tay-Tay: Would you please stop flexing, Dad?

She gently nudges his arm down to his side.

Tay-Tay: And maybe it would be wise to let security escort you. I mean, with the Blacklist running around here and everything.

The Brod: Fine…

Frankie: Don’t think Brod needs to worry about the Blacklist.

Tay-Tay appears confused regarding why Frankie would make such an insinuation.

Tay-Tay: We should get going. Seems Lando wants to talk things out with Frankie here.

The two get up to leave but not before Tay-Tay steps around the desk and gives Orlando a little sugar, kissing him on the cheek. He seems so preoccupied he barely even acknowledges the love-peck.

Tay-Tay: See you out there, okay?

Orlando: I wouldn’t miss it.

Though he should make this comment with extreme enthusiasm, he almost seems reluctant…distressed even. Tay-Tay picks up on this but doesn’t want to rock the boat, especially not in front of her father. As the two leave, Frankie slides into the chair across from Cruze and whips out his cell-phone, providing some more last minute tweets before his match.

Frankie: Can we make this quick? I need a wardrobe change before my match.

Like walking on eggshells Orlando treads lightly. He tries his best to pick just the right words…words he never thought would be coming from his mouth.

Orlando: About tonight….

Frankie: Yeah….yeah…yeah, do what’s best for Tay-Tay, yadda, yadda, yadda, we’ve heard this all before.

Orlando:…well…that’s just it though, we might have different ideas of what’s best for Tay-Tay.

Frankie: How do you….figure?

His face finally emerges from behind his cell-phone and designer shades.

Orlando: I don’t know how else to say this…but….when you win the opportunity to special referee Taylor’s match tonight…you need to make sure Tay-Tay…..doesn‘t win.

Paradise drops his glasses and pantomimes a time out with his hands.

Frankie: Hold on….

Orlando: I know how this sounds, Frankie, but it’s truly what’s best for her in the long run….

Frankie: No.

This time Orlando’s the one calling for a time out.

Orlando: What did you just say to me?

Frankie: I said…NO.

Orlando: Listen to me, Frankie. I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t want to spare Tay-Tay the predicament winning the World Title would put her in.

Frankie: I’m not doing it, Cruze, forget it.

Orlando: Frankie, I don’t think your grasping this…

Frankie: No way, Cruze, NO WAY!

He tips over his chair upon flying out of it.

Frankie: I’m not going out there to screw Tay-Tay…though I would really like to figurative….

Orlando: Don’t even.

Frankie: Anyway, I’m not going to rob her of her life’s ambition simply because you want to hold onto the championship, just because you still want to walk around like you’ve got the biggest swinging dick in the yard…

Cruze is coming dangerously close to losing it.

Orlando: Frankie…

Frankie: Tay-Tay deserves better than this…she deserves better than you.,

Orlando: FRANKIE!

Both fists swing down yet again into the surface of his desk, which proves to be particularly pliable after all the damage Orlando has done to it as a result of his many tantrums.

Orlando: Tay-Tay can’t win the Championship tonight, she just…she just….can’t. God, I’m going to kill Desmond for even putting this match together.

Frankie: You know what, Orlando, I’m glad to disappoint you. I’m not going to cost her the World Title just so YOU won’t look like the bad-guy.

He steps towards the door, standing on the threshold.

Frankie: I’ll never do anything to hurt Tay-Tay.

Out of the room Frankie stomps, leaving Orlando behind to stew in thought. He rubs his fingers against his temples, looking to be at a loss for what to do regarding the Title predicament tonight. Suddenly he has a brainstorm…kinda…removing a phone from his pocket and dialing a number.

Chase: Wait…wait…you want us to do WHAT!?!

Adam is still following right behind Gavin Taylor, who looks side to side, front to back, up and down, searching every space, every nook and cranny for Aaron Harrison. Unfortunately he’s hid himself quite well, and won’t be discovered by peaking around the catering tables and loosely stacked boxes off to Gavin’s sides. But his search won’t be disrupted, even by Adam shouting into his cell-phone.

Chase: Ummmm…we’re kind of busy at the moment, with you know, trying to track down Harrison…

He pauses as Orlando barks directly into his ear.

Chase: I understand that he gave up that matc….alright, fine…fine…Cruze, we’ll do it.

The I-Phone is stuffed back in his pocket.

Chase: Gavin my boy.

Taylor stops looking behind boxes and starts looking over his shoulder.

Gavin: Busy at the moment.

Chase: Afraid Aaron is going to have to wait. I’ve got another mission for you at the moment.

Gavin: Mission?

Chase: Yeah…yeah…I know you don’t take very well to directives from Orlando….but he promises that this will really be in Taylor’s best interest.

Gavin: Fiiiinnnnee. What does his needy ass want now?

Chase: It’s a procurement assignment. We’ve got to take something from a certain…someone.

Gavin: Could you possibly be anymore vague?

Chase: If I really applied myself.

Blood continues to seep, dripping down Katelyn Buehler’s face as SHE’S now the one holding an ice bag to her forehead. In spite of a losing effort, Buehler looks overwhelmed with pride, sitting with a straight back for once, upon the cot in the trainer’s room. At last there’s actual confidence radiating from the woman who has been treated like trash her entire life. But tonight she stood…and she stood tall against the epitome of her fears, Ducky. Two sets of hands make her feel all the more confident, slipping unto her shoulders and giving them a reassuring rub.

Katelyn: Oh Ethan, that feels so good.

The massage proceeds until she reaches down to kiss his fingers and realizes that she’s smooching a pair of leather gloves. She pulls back and winces from the vile taste, her eyes instantly turning, panic stricken to the man standing behind her, Mr. Gaunt.

Katelyn: What the hell do you want!?!

She lunges to her feet and puts up both fists, refusing to be intimidated by the captain at the helm of the Black Crusade’s ship.

Mr. Gaunt: Your spunk pleases me, Mrs. Buehler. It’s nice to see that you’ve grown a spine. In forcing you to face your fears, you’ve grown…and your career will undoubtedly blossom as a result. For now that you’ve stared down the person who has terrified you the most, and stand here a survivor of her brutality, you have nothing left to fear.

With that simple and straight forward message, Mr. Gaunt turns to leave, but surprisingly, Katelyn doesn’t let him get very far.

Buehler: Mr. Gaunt.

Mr. Gaunt: My Dear?

Katelyn lowers her head, wondering why she’s about to say the words she feels obliged to get off her chest.

Buehler: Thank you.

Somehow Desmond Drake has managed to shrink even further. It’s almost like he’s Alice in Wonderland, ingesting copious amounts of vile liquid in order to reduce him to a more manageable size. But it isn’t some unique drink that makes him appear shorter in stature, it’s the intimidating gazes of the Board of Directors, Mr. D in particular. His gaze persists, while every other set of eyes wavers to the monitor set up in the back of the room, playing images of Orlando Cruze forcing Christian Savior to compete with his wrists shackled together against the ever so vicious Legion.

Mr. D: And all this….all this happened on YOUR watch?

A simple shake of Mr. D’s head makes it feel like Desmond has an ice pick haphazardly giving him a spinal tap.

Mr. D: Desmond…honestly….this is the pinnacle of FAIL if I’ve ever seen it.

Tomlinson: It’s clear that Orlando has not grown as an individual since his SCW days.

Mr. D: I hate to tell you guys I told you so….wait….actually…I love it…I’m going to quite enjoy rubbing your noses in this botched attempt at IWC’s resurrection.

: Dad, we’re not entirely convinced that the IWC should be thrown under the bus.

Mr. D: No, but Orlando Cruze clearly should be. It’s obvious to anyone with half a brain that the man cannot be trusted to run a wrestling company. His ego is totally and completely out of control.

Sasha: You would know something about egos.

Mr. D: Yes…yes I would, and Orlando’s is even bigger than my own….ego that is. I screamed as loud as I could, as long as I could, to anyone that would hear me, that Orlando couldn’t be trusted…

Tomlinson: Which is why he put Drake in this position as a safeguard.

Mr. D: And we can all agree that he’s been totally inefficient in that capacity. I think it’s time that you all get on board with my train of thought….

Sasha: Oh lord…here we go.

She throws her arms up in the air and Tomlinson pinches the tissue between his eyes.

Mr. D: What, it’s the only practical solution to this problem. We make Orlando step down as President, put him in a more suitable role for a man of his mentality, as a silent partner, and we announce MYSELF as the in show figurehead for the IWC.

Sasha: You have WAY too much on your plate already.

Mr. D: I can pull this off…Just look at what’s happened in SCW since I returned. For the first time in ages there’s actually been law and some semblance of order. Stability was restored, and it was all because you people had confidence in me. My return to SCW has worked wonders for the company…I can do the same in IWC.

Drake: Mr. D….

Everyone is stunned to hear Drake speaking up.

Desmond: If anyone could do it, it would be you.

This vote of confidence puts a grin on Mr. D’s face.

Desmond: But you, above all else, know what power can do to people.

Indeed, Mr. D has faced the perils of corruption in his past, on more than one occasion, hence why his grin borders on the brink of fading.

Desmond: Orlando is under a lot of pressure….something else yourself and Sasha know so much about. And this pressure, it’s got to him….it’s twisted him…it’s warped his mind….but in spite of his twisted logic, I truly believe he THINKS everything he’s doing is for the greater good of the company. He’s not out to intentionally destroy the product. With every fiber of his being he’s fighting to restore the company’s honor, and bring it back to its glory years. How could you possibly want to replace a man who to his inner-most core wants to make the product, you invested so much money in, all it can be?

Sasha opens her mouth to respond before being cut off, shockingly, by Drake, who is actually on his feet, stepping around the table. He stops beside Sasha, patting her on the forearm to put her at ease over the interruption.

Desmond: And you guys certainly can’t argue with how the product has been performing from a profit standpoint. We were the highest rated show on the ME Network. Our buyrates for Awakening, were great. The place is turning out to be a cash-cow for you guys. So financially speaking, isn’t it a good idea to keep Orlando on his throne if he’s filling your pockets?

Mr. D: Jerry Springer had great ratings too, but it wasn‘t quality programming. Do we really want our names associated with a place that endorses chaos? And let’s not even get started on how Orlando allows wrestlers to compete against medical advice. With concussions! It‘s opening us up to a major…MAJOR lawsuit. You all just saw what happened with the NFL and the billions of dollars they‘ll have to pump into concussion based legal issues….Do we want to open ourselves up to that?

Desmond: I truly believe Orlando didn’t grasp the severity of Jackson’s concussion syndrome. He’s been extremely taxed as it is, guys…and girl….and he’s still fitting into his new role, learning as he goes. Besides, you all saw how he suspended Axl Evermore the moment it was even insinuated that he was suffering some nagging injuries. I think he really does have the best interest of not only the company, but the wrestlers in mind…

Mr. D: Which is why he brutalized Simon Cagero with a Singapore Cane, and FORCED a man to compete while shackled?

Desmond: Yeah, on the surface, that makes Orlando look like a total ass…and a masochist. But dig a bit deeper, try to see it from Cruze’s perspective. Christian and Silencer, in the past were both parts of stables that went out of their way to destroy the IWC. Remember, they were founding members of the Conspiracy.

Tomlinson: No need to remind us of that.

Desmond: So naturally he’s not going to trust them, or anyone who worked with Dan Douglas, who truly was a cancer to this company, and was almost entirely responsible for the IWC closing its doors three years ago. He’s just trying to take out anyone he thinks will hurt his product…YOUR product. He just wants to defend the company….YOUR investment…and will not tolerate anyone standing in the way of the IWC becoming the federation it once was…..So you know what I say? I say you guys give Orlando time…and with time he’ll learn to trust Christian and Silence again, to coexist with them. Give him the opportunity to grow into his role…to transform into the President we all know he can be. Just…just…trust Orlando….and I swear you guys…and girl…will not regret it.

Orlando: Aaron Harrison’s head….on a pike….right along side Silencer’s…and Christian Savior’s….

Laymon: That’s grim.

Orlando: Well, you asked me what I wanted.

The Icon is pretty much at the end of his rope, one that now seems to be wrapped around his throat. A nervous Laymon sits across from him in the Icon‘s office, desperate not to say the wrong thing and increasingly thankful for the desk that separates them.

Laymon: I’m guessing you called me back here not to discuss decapitating half the roster.

Orlando: You guessed right.

Laymon: I promise you, Boss, I’m doing everything in my power to take care of the Black Crusade….I’ll deal with them….

Orlando: Does it look like I give two shits about the Black Crusade?

Laymon: Well, not to speak out of turn, but maybe you should take an active role in dealing with the Black Crusade.

Orlando: I’ve got enough to worry about, Jacob. And that’s part of the reason you’re here. I need you to do a job for me….

Laymon: Okay…this time I WILL do exactly as you request. It won’t end up like last week.

Orlando: Your better off NOT reminding me of your failures.

Laymon: Okie dokie.

Orlando: In a few minutes Gavin Taylor and Adam Chase are going to bring you something.

Laymon looks increasingly concerned, his eyebrow arching and his skin squirming, especially when he detects an annoying scratching noise emanating from somewhere in the room. Before he can address it, Orlando continues feeding him information, and he tries his best to remain focused on every syllable.

Orlando: As soon as you get it, go to the ring and…well….this will explain everything. Thought it be safer to write it down rather than expect you to JUST remember.

A piece of paper is slid across the table to Laymon, who eagerly snatches it up and begins to read it.

Orlando: Now go.

Jacob looks confused by all the information he’s absorbing from the blueprint of forthcoming events, leading him to be hesitant in his response.

Laymon: Okay, are you sure about this?

Orlando: Of course not, but it’s the only fix I could think of on the fly.

Laymon: Why not just talk to Tay-Tay? Get her match postponed instead of potentially antagonizing her like this?

Orlando: I couldn’t tell her with her father sitting right there. We’ll hash this all out after the show ends tonight though. I’ll take her aside and explain why it HAD to happen this way.

Laymon: Okay, Boss…I’m on it.

He exits, leaving Orlando to at last sit alone for some much needed introspection. He sits in quiet at last, hands interlocked and falling against his forehead. He continues to question if he’s made the right decision. Just when it seems he’s starting to come to his senses, his thoughts turn to that scratching noise.

Orlando: Come on now!

He’s aggravated enough without this incessant noise hassling him. He rises from his desk, determined to put an end to whatever this noise is that’s plaguing him. Therefore he follows the scratching right to a door, one leading to his closet.

Orlando: If it’s a fucking rat, I swear to God….

When the door opens its not a rodent that spills out and causes Orlando to jump back in horror. It’s a blood soaked Rose Savior. With shackled hands the World Heavyweight Champion collapses at Orlando’s feet, a puddle of blood masking her face. But that’s NOT what Orlando’s eyes are drawn to, instead it’s the fake dragon tattoo drawn across her lower back, one reminiscent of Taylor Chase’s.

Orlando: What? How did you? Why are you!?!

Instinctively, in spite of his issues with the Savior’s, he drops to his knees and takes Rose’s bloodied head into his hands. Turning her so that her face is looking up into his. The little bit of valor he has left shines as he looks up and cries for help.

Orlando: Somebody get in here…someone call the….

Before he can even finish requesting help, that’s just what arrives, but not in the form of EMTS. Instead standing in his doorway are the two police officers who arrested him last week.

Orlando: Oh thank God you’re here, call for an ambulance…

Officer: Mr. Cruze, please step away from her.

Their hands move to the revolvers in their holsters, leading to a double take from the Icon. His head snaps back, eyes opening wide. They are also in the process of speaking into their shoulder mounted radios, summoning emergency aide for the bludgeoned and bloodied World Champion.

Orlando: What….wait….hold on….you can’t think…

Officer: I said step away from the girl….NOW!

These two officers in particular are well aware of Orlando’s attitude towards the Savior’s, and to see him stooped over Rose, with her blood all over his hands…well…it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together.

Orlando: I’m telling you, I had nothing to….

Christian: Where is she, Orlando?

Savior steps into the room without so much as a pause to knock, but he does stop when his eyes lock upon Rose’s bloodied body in Cruze’s clutches.

Christian: You MOTHER FUCKER!

Before the officers can cut him off, Christian barrels across the room and spears the now upright Orlando to the ribs, knocking both men back over the desk. They take the whole table over and end up on the ground, exchanging shots between one another. The police interfere at long last, grabbing Christian and summoning all their strength to drag him back off of Orlando.

Christian: Let me go…let me go God dammit!

Officer: Don’t make us cuff you, Christian.

Christian: I’m gonna kill him…I’m gonna fucking KILL HIM!

Orlando climbs up from behind his knocked over table, finally getting his feet under him.

Orlando: I didn’t do this…I didn’t put so much as a finger on her head.

He lifts his fists in the direction of Christian only to have a pair of cuffs slapped around his wrists. An insulted Cruze turns towards the police officer, wide eyed and outraged.

Orlando: You can’t be serious.

Officer: Orlando Cruze, you’re under arrest for the assault of Rose Savior.

Orlando: You’ve got no evidence.

Officer: The blood on your shirt says otherwise.

Christian is no longer obsessed with getting his hands on Orlando, and is instead focused on wrapping his arms around Rose’s head, dragging her bloodied skull up to his chest. He doesn’t even watch as Orlando is dragged out of the office in handcuffs.

Orlando: I’m innocent…I’m INNOCENT!

Officer: How original, never heard that one before.

Savior is shaking, his face almost as red as Rose’s, as he clutches the World Champion in his arms.

The show returns to the ring where the Disco Ball is lowered and That Disco Ninja!, exclamation point and all, is shaking his money maker beneath it.

Dollar: WOW! Okay, time out. How can we possibly just transition back to wrestling after what we just saw?

Susie: Hey, if I can carry on after seeing an innocent plushie torn to pieces, you can get past what just happened to our World Champion.

Dollar: I could give a flying pig fart about what happened to Rose…I’m outraged because Orlando AGAIN is being led out of the building in handcuffs! The police heard him, he said he’s innocent….INNOCENT. He was set up.

Susie: It wasn’t him…it was the one armed man.

Dollar: This isn’t funny, you idiot! Orlando was set-up, and yeah, Rose Savior was apparently the one who was mangled by the Blacklist at the beginning of our show. I guess to lure Orlando back to the building so he’d sign that contract…a contract for God only knows what because Aaron Harrison has apparently backed out of participating in the World Title match.. Jesus, I’m so damned confused.

Susie: Welcome to the club, we’ll have a glittery pendant waiting for you.

Disco Ninja is still dancing around the ring, totally oblivious to what happened backstage to one of his associates.

Dollar: I guess I’ll TRY to get my mind focused here…That Disco Ninja is about to compete against Tiami Tyler….Yeah,, I just can’t get that image out of my head…I’ll always be effected by the sight of Orlando Cruze being led out of the building in handcuffs.

Tiami is not the next person to enter the ring, because instead that Disco Ninja is requesting that a few lucky fans climb into the ring in order to dance with him. But members of the fan base are not who climb into the ring with Disco, instead it’s Gavin Taylor and Adam Chase.

Dollar: It’s Taylor…at last someone who can snap me out of my funk.

Before Disco can figure out why the fans aren’t obliged to take him up on his offer to dance, he’s blasted to the upper back with a devastating forearm from Gavin. He goes down flat on his face and instantly is subjected to a barrage of boots from Gavin.

Dollar: I guess Gavin just wasn’t through with that Disco Ninja…wasn’t satisfied with the brutality he inflicted on him last week.

Susie: He really needs to start employing his decoys to get him out of these situations.

Adam proves to be a hands on manager, dragging Disco over to his seat and putting him in perfect position for Gavin’s brutal shining wizard, connecting with enough force to break the bones in his rival’s face. The crowd watches, and that’s all they can do, observe the brutality in horror. One person who can do more than just watch, is the very soul who just tore through the entry way. With brief-case in hand, considering it might serve a useful purpose, Axl Evermore darts to the ring amidst a monumental reaction from his hometown fans.

Dollar; Evermore on his way to the ring! He was too late to stop the assault on Disco Ninja last week, he’s not about to make the same mistake…YOUCH!

A double axe handle smashes the upper back of Evermore, knocking him down hard to the stage. Standing above him is a man Axl is not unfamiliar with, Isaac Saine.

Dollar: Isaac just attacked Axl…but….but…why?

Susie: Cause he doesn’t like Axl….I don’t know why. I thought everyone loved his stubble and his pony tail.

The collision has sent Evermore rolling down the ramp to the mats, really clutching at the back of his neck. Isaac storms towards him, but instead of putting his hands on Axl, he bends down and grabs the briefcase. He slowly begins to pick it up when Axl stands up and swipes the case right out of his hands. He then turns the attaché into a weapon, ramming it into Isaac’s ribs and doubling him over. He then lifts the case and slams it over the back of his skull, bringing Isaac down to a knee.

Just when he’s about to lift the case and deliver ANOTHER shot to his long time nemesis, Gavin sneaks up behind him and grabs the make-shift weapon right out of his hands. Axl turns around and has the case slammed against his forehead, dropping Axl to the ramp.

Dollar: And now Axl’s head caved in with the briefcase! And we all know what’s inside of it…The Evolution Championship that Evermore refused to give to Desmond Drake last week.

Susie: What?

Dollar: Evermore’s company is responsible for making all of the IWC’s championship belts, and apparently he still had the ORIGINAL Evolution Title in his possession, and the one thrown in the ocean several weeks ago, was just a duplicate.

Susie: Why did you TRY to explain that to me? You know I’m just visualizing what happened to that plushie, right?

Instead of doing further damage to Evermore, Gavin rushes up the ramp with the briefcase in hand, taking off with the original Evolution Championship belt. All the while Adam stops beside the kneeling Isaac, who sits on his knees in an emotionless state.

Chase: Either finish him off, or I post your maskless face on the net for the whole world to see.

The threat proves effective, Isaac instantly rising to his feet, grabbing Evermore by his pony tail and using it to drag him towards the ring.

Dollar: And now Chase using that picture he took of Isaac without a mask on to FORCE Saine into doing his bidding. Though I doubt it takes much coercion to get Saine to beat down Evermore. They’ve been doing that to each other for years.

Axl is rolled into the ring and Saine follows him in. He then steps forward and reaches down, picking up right where he left off in the original IWC, by literally picking up Axl, dragging him up to his feet. He then spins Evermore around into a cobra clutch, setting for the Psychotic Episode. He starts to lift him up before he realizes his leg is caught. Isaac looks down at Disco Ninja, wrapped around his tree trunk thick leg and refusing to let go. Saine takes an arm away from the cobra clutch to swat at Disco, and that’s just the opening Evermore needs to reach back, take his long time rival around the neck and drop into the Fully Loaded stunner.

Saine’s head bounces back and he goes staggering into the ropes, leaning on them for support. Just then Disco and Evermore interlock hands and rush across the ring, delivering a stereo lariat that takes Isaac up and over the ropes.

Dollar: Disco and Evermore have just cleared the ring! They’ve taken the brute out before he could tear Evermore apart.

Susie: Just like that poor plushie.

Dollar: But they fell right into Gavin Taylor’s plot. He lured Evermore out here by attacking Disco Ninja, just so he could steal the Evolution Championship. I guess we know now what Chase and Taylor were tasked with procuring.

Evermore and Ninja stand side by side, watching as Isaac backs up the ramp, holding his throat. But instead of mumbling threats or obscenities, he remains completely silent, still in a state of pure petrify.

EMTS have Rose loaded on a stretcher, pushing aside the stitched together plushie in order to get the bloodied Savior in position for transportation. Though she’s lost a lot of blood, and has endured a tremendous amount of punishment at the hands of a three on one mugging from the Blacklist, she’s surprisingly cogent…well…enough to address the man standing beside her…hand gripping her own tightly….trying to keep up with the stretcher as it’s pushed down the corridor.

Rose: Where…where…where am I? What’s….going on? Christian?<

Christian: Try not to talk, try to conserve your energy.

Christian runs his hand through Rose’s blood drenched bangs, pushing it aside so she can bend down and plant a kiss.

Christian: Just stay calm, okay. Their taking you to the hospital.

Rose: The…the hospital? No….no…

Without being aware of what she’s doing, Rose tries to sit up and get off the stretcher only to be pushed back by EMTS and her husband.

Christian: Remain still, Rose, you could have some internal injuries.

Rose: I don’t care…I’m not leaving. I have a title to defend.

Christian: For crying out loud, don’t worry about the God damned title…it’s not worth risking your life over.

Rose: Did YOU let injuries keep you from defending your championship? NO!

Again she’s surprisingly coherent for a woman who just suffered mass blood loss and injuries both superficial and internal.

Rose: Now let me off of here…

Christian: Can you guys strap her down or something? She’s not with it. Afraid she’s gonna hurt herself in this state.

Straps are employed per Christian’s request, EMTS throwing them over Rose’s body, who is too weak to fend them off.

Rose: No…Christian PLEASE!

Christian: I’m not going to let you go out there and compete…NO WAY! But don’t worry, I’m going to make sure Orlando gets what’s coming to him next week for what he did to you.

Rose: Or….Or…ORLANDO!?!

Christian: Please try to stay calm…

The moment the straps are buckled, keeping Rose from being able to move a Singapore cane is swung right into the back of Christian’s knee. Rose screams at the sight of her husband going down to all fours, grabbing at his leg and unleashing his own screech, not of fear or surprise, but pure pain.

Rose: No…Christian…CHRISTIAN!

The EMTS don’t even look back, too eager to get Rose to the hospital, so they keep on pushing her along on the stretcher, keeping her from being able to come to her husband’s aid, though in her present state she would probably wouldn’t be of much help.

No….she’d be incapable of assisting the love of her life against the very man who stands above him with cane in hand…Silencer. Though he seems to be cut off at the knees, looking quite shorter than normal. But it MUST be him, because he’s wearing identical make-up, has his hair done up in the same way, and is wearing all the traditional Cagero garb, including the long trench coat, which he now reaches into the pocket of for God only knows what. A cell-phone is then revealed, a bright pink one…which clues viewers into the fact that it’s clearly not his. A giant ‘ROSE’ has been drawn on the back of the phone…which now clues viewers into the fact that it belongs to Rose Savior.

Meaning…if you’re capable of connecting all the dots…that SILENCER must have been the one sending all the text messages and broken phone calls to Christian…meaning he had to be a co-collaborator in the vicious assault on the World Champion. An assault that would no doubt weaken Rose for her eventual bout with Silencer.

This piece of very incriminating evidence is thrown down right on top of Christian, who is still rolling around reeling from both pain and shock after that NASTY shot from the cane to his knee.

Dollar: Oh lord, was Christian…was he just…was he just attacked by Silencer of all people? And was Silencer carrying Rose’s cell-phone to boot? Is he the one who set up Orlando Cruze? I have to admit, that is smart, if Silencer is playing his rivals off of one another. If he‘s been working with the Blacklist all along.

Susie: Not only does he apply a mean mascara, but he’s a master manipulator too.

Dollar: How is this going to effect the four way we’re scheduled to see in just a few minutes?

Christian sits up clutching his knee, but takes his focus off his injury long enough to spot the phone lying on the ground beside him. The image of Rose’s cell causes him to take his attention completely off his damaged limb. Every inch of his skin turns a very dark crimson shade.

Orlando: This is starting to get a little redundant guys.

For the second week in a row, Orlando Cruze is being led through the backstage area not of his own accord, but by the police officers standing at his sides, gripping his forearms tightly. They provide extra support to the shackles that keep his wrists bound behind his back, ensuring that the particularly burly Orlando can’t break free. But he doesn’t fight, not wanting to further antagonize the officers, at least not physically.

Orlando: You both know there’s no point to this. I’ll be out before you can even finish your jelly donut and coffee back at the station.

Officer: I’d advice you not to say anything else without your lawyer present.

Orlando: And I’d advice you to cut back on the pastries Mr. Spare-Tire.

The officer subconsciously glances at his roll of belly fat, but then turns his focus to the police cruiser a few inches away. The back door is opened and Orlando is on the cusp of being guided through it. He stops to offer one last word of warning to those about to incarcerate him.

Orlando: You two realize your wasting your time with me, right? That the real sons of bitches who attacked Rose are still out there. I’m telling you guys the Blacklist is responsible for this……

Officer: Mr. Cruze, you can discuss this with the detectives who will be investigating your case.

Orlando: Can you at least give me like five minutes to talk to Jacob Laymon? Just five minutes. I need to tell him he can just call off the World Title match. WATCH OUT!

Orlando dives backwards into the police cruiser as the officers leap over the trunk and hood of their car. All their Dukes of Hazard inspired lunges come as a direct result of the car that comes speeding through the parking lot, just inches from clipping them. The police stand back up fixing their shirts and trying not to look too panic stricken. One of them grabs their radio and begins to bark into it.

Officer: I need back-up here now! I’m reporting an attempted hit and run…license plate number….did either of you catch the number?

An annoyed Orlando sits up and peaks his head out of the backseat.

Orlando: CS0911. Do you guys want me to tie your shoes next?

Officer: Get in the car.

Orlando is shoved back into the vehicle.

Orlando: Wait…wait…can one of you get word to Laymon? Tell him to cancel the title match….Rose can’t compete.

The door is slammed shut, cutting him off and trapping him inside. The cops then exchange a long and tense look.

Officer: Darryl…I know who’s car that is.<

The Officer’s heart sinks.

Darryl: Yeah, so do I Frank, so do I.

P Clarence Whitman III eyes flutter.

Lois: Clarence….Clarence….yoo-hoo.

Fingers snap in front of Whitman’s face before he at last comes through.. He looks up slowly into the smirk of Lois Prince, stooped before him.

Whitman: How in the blue moon did I get here?

Clearly the X-Class Champion is suffering lost time, sitting up from the table he was spread across. Almost taking over the stale cookies and the old coffee situated around him.

Lois: Not sure. I just came in to pick up the left over cookies from our group meeting and found you laying here.

Whitman: Did I get laggard or something?

Lois: Don’t smell any alcohol on your breath.

Desperately Whitman tries to retrace his steps as he looks around the conference room. The last thing he can remember is turning into a shot from the crowbar by Lohan, hence why his fingers instantly dash to the huge knot on his forehead, one crudely covered by a few bandaids.

Whitman: Who?

Lois: Don’t know. You were all bandaged up before I got here.

Whitman: Odd.

She busies herself collecting the left over goodies off of the table, desperately trying to resist the urge to do it. But at last she just can’t help herself. Against better judgment she leans in and kisses Whitman on the cheek. The X-Class Champion perks up, instantly forgetting the migraine and the lost time.

Whitman: What was that for?

Lois: Took a lot of courage to stand up to your Bosses like that. I almost didn‘t think you had it in you.

Whitman: Neither did I.

He could barely even recall assaulting Laymon’s security with the baton..

Whitman: I meant to say there is much more about me than meets your eyes, Lois. Perhaps you’ll learn more about me if say, we were to meet for dinner, outside of our place of employment perhaps.

Lois: Sure. Could be fun.

Whitman: Cheers.

Lois: We can discuss it later though. Got to get this room cleared out before the higher ups jump all over us.

Whitman: Bastards.

Lois: Want to help me pick up the rest of the chairs?

Whitman: Of course…

The smitten British import begins to slip off the edge of the table before he looks down and feigns alarm.

Whitman: Um, can you give me a moment? To…uhhh…collect myself, yes.

Whitman nervously crosses his legs while Lois carries the tray towards the doors.

Lois: Okay. Don’t take too long though.

She departs, leaving Whitman to take a long breathe as he looks down at the table beneath him. At the Black Crusade sigil drawn under his body..

MOMENTS AGO

Dollar: See, I didn’t fall for it this time. Didn’t waste my breathe at all. I refuse to be undone by yet another The Room clip played by that bastard Mr. Hush.

Susie: That may have been the best sex face EVER!

Dollar: This is totally distracting us from what really went down right before the break. We saw Orlando Cruze arrested AGAIN…but then he was almost run over by some crazed driver.

Moore: It was probably one of those old people who refuse to fork over their keys before their cataracts start flaring up.

Dollar: Hopefully the cops start doing their damn job and arresting people who actually do need to detained.

No “Go Ahead…” no “Silence Me…” nuttin….nothing but this odd intro theme ushering forth Silencer to the ring. The painted Cagero steps through the curtains and looks around at the sound speakers, wondering why Mr. Hush selected this theme on his behalf, mostly because it’s just way too awesome. He shrugs and embraces it before stepping down the ramp, still wearing his street attire based on the loss of the duffle bag apparently holding his gear tonight. He slips through the ropes and prepares for yet a match which gives him yet another opportunity to screw with Orlando and his circle of allies.

Dollar: Can’t believe Silencer would even show his face here after he proved himself to be a total hypocrite by abandoning his morals, his principles, any semblance of standards he had, when he partnered up with the Blacklist tonight.

Susie: I can’t believe he has the audacity to show his face with that head of hair sitting on top of it.

Dollar: But Silencer now has the chance to cause even greater chaos should he win this match and perhaps influence the outcome of the World Title match tonight…if there’s even going to be a World Title match that is. I mean, Rose was just escorted from the building on a stretcher, so it doesn’t look like she’s going to compete, and Aaron Harrison has already stated that he will NOT be competing against Tay-Tay after all. Who knows what to expect from our main event this evening.

Silencer paces in anticipation of his bout, still wearing a huge protective knee brace after the repeated assaults on his leg the past few weeks. Though he moves much more gingerly upon it than in recent weeks.

The fans cover their ears as the offensive tune filters in. As Christian Savior emerges through the curtains he doesn’t even pay attention to the music Mr. Hush selected for him. He doesn’t even focus on his gimp leg after that shot from the cane moments ago. The only thing he’s focused on is Silencer, who acts totally aloof to the rage seeping from every orifice of the Rising Phoenix.

Dollar: I’m surprised that Savior is even competing tonight. He got hit pretty hard with that cane, and I would think he’d be right at Rose’s side….WHOA!

Silencer turns to Christian with a smug grin only to be nailed with the Bloodline Spear before the match could even begin. Cagero goes down hard and Christian crawls right up beside him, applying a headlock while delivering repeated rapid fire right hands into his forehead.

Dollar: Payback is a bitch by the name of Christian Savior….he’s all over this co-conspirator…this bastard who helped maul Rose and set up Orlando Cruze.

Susie: How can you punch a man in make-up? That’s just wrong.

Punch after punch after punch is delivered with fury…with rage…with vengeance…with fire. Referee Ingelson is shouting at the two to break this up as the match hasn’t even started as of yet. Christian doesn’t care, he just wants retribution, evident as he sinks his fingers into Silencer’s hair, and leads him up to his feet. The air has been knocked from his body by that full impact spear that he never saw coming, leaving him defenseless against the punches to his forehead that send him twisting into the turnbuckle.

Silencer falls against it as Christian steps in and delivers repeated stomps against his ribs. He then wedges a forearm to Silencer’s throat and leans in to shout at the number one contender.

Christian: I’m the one who can’t be trusted? I’m the bad guy huh? HUH!?!

A truly vengeful Christian takes Silencer around the neck and rushes out of the corner, diving into the diamond cutter. At the last second Silencer shoves him off though and then goes twisting through the ropes, desperate to create some separation.. He leans against the apron and looks into the ring where Savior is limping back towards him.

Silencer: Whoa…whoa…what bug crawled up your ass!?!

Savior rolls to the outside of the ring and goes storming right at Silencer only to be caught with a knife edge chop across the chest. Christian is staggered by the blow as Silencer begins to deliver rights to his forehead in order to avail himself of this situation, to fend off the vengeful Phoenix. But Christian’s rage and need for payback is an all too motivating factor, prompting him to overcome these strikes and to grab his painted prey by the back of the head, charging him across the mats face first off of the ring post. Silencer’s cranium cracks against the steel and he goes twisting into the barricade.

Silencer falls against the barrier, leaning on it for support as Christian comes charging in, looking for yet another spear. Somehow he’s able to side step this attempt, pushing Savior along head first into the barricade. Christian crashes against the steel with enough force to send him flipping up and over into the crowd.

All the while Silencer staggers towards the ring, rolling to his elbows and knees. He clutches at his cranium and his ribs, feeling the effects of the spear and the multiple punches to his head.

The curtains part and through them emerges the self proclaimed, monster, Aaron Harrison. He shows no trepidation, and pays no attention to the theme music blaring in the background, much like Savior he’s totally focused.

Dollar: And Aaron Harrison has made a huge impact on tonight’s telecast as well…working with Silencer in order to take out the World Heavyweight Champion. What further influence will he have on tonight’s show though, should he win this match and go on to referee our main event…Again…if there will even be one.

Into the ring slides, not Harrison, but Christian, with a steel chair in hand. He swings it right down into the upper back of a still kneeling Silencer, catching him completely off guard. Silencer twists to the canvas as Christian steps over and lifts the steel into the air, driving the top edge right down into his rival’s ribcage.

Cagero curls into a fetal position, grabbing at his battered mid-section. Christian lifts the chair again when Aaron slides into the ring and sees to be coming to the aid of his co-conspirator. Savior turns and is about to hit him with the chair but Harrison ducks it, taking off into the ropes behind him.

He bounces off and comes back in at Christian, who turns, throws the chair aside and dives into another Bloodline Spear, it connects with enough force to send Harrison almost flipping over backwards. Christian doesn’t go for the pin though, considering that the match has yet to even begin. The truly vengeful former World Champion crawls on top of Harrison’s chest and begins rifling off punches with both fists to Aaron’s face.

Dollar: And now Christian is all over Harrison, just pummeling the man…and for good cause…considering Aaron left his wife in a pool of blood.

Susie: Nothing a couple tampons couldn’t fix.

This level of aggression has never been seen out of Christian, channeling so much primal aggression into his blows. They only stop when a side kick nails him to the cheek, Silencer delivering it with enough force to finally phase the vengeful spirit. Christian drops to his back, and in spite of taking the spear, Aaron begins to climb to his feet. He quickly takes Savior’s arms into his clutches, lifting Christian up and pinning his biceps behind him, trapping him in almost a standing version of the double chicken wing. This leaves Savior defenseless against the recovered Cagero, who leans upon the ropes to maintain his stability.

Aaron: Come on Simon, take him out…Do it already!

The chair Christian was using is kicked by Harrison, sending it sliding right into Silencer’s toes. Cagero looks at the weapon that mangled him then back up into the blood red face of Savior, who is screaming obscenities as he desperately tries to fight free.

Dollar: And the two are going to continue working as a team to take out ANOTHER member of the Savior clan. They may leave Christian in even worse shape than his wife.

For the first time in a long…long time…Silencer shows legitimate confusion. He’s tepid….cautious as he reaches down and picks up the chair, looking at his reflection in the gleam of the steel.

Aaron: Finish this….partner.

Aaron winks at Silencer, which seems to send him into a rage, prompting him to lift the chair and rush in only to receive a boot to the ribs. The weapon is dropped, along with Cagero’s guard, bending forward and clutching at his ribs. Christian then throws a back elbow, nailing Harrison in the jaw. Silencer steadies himself and rushes right at Savior, who drops into a forward roll, ducking the arm. As a result Silencer’s bicep travels right into Aaron’s throat, taking him up and over the cables to the outside of the ring.

Silencer sneers as he watches Harrison hit the mats, totally unsympathetic to his ‘partner’s’ misfortune. He then turns just as Savior caves in his skull with the steel chair. Silencer collapses to his back and begins to flop around like a fish thrown out of water. Both palms engulf the knot forming on the bridge of his scalp, and the only thing that takes his focus away from his skull is the pain coursing through his knee as Christian drives the chair into it. He then lifts the steel into the air and slams it down over the injured leg a second time, and then a third.

Christian: How does it feel? How does it feel!?! Huh? HUH!?!

The chair slams viciously against his kneecap a third, a fourth, a fifth, sixth, seventh…eighth…ninth…again and and again against Silencer’s leg as he flops around, desperately trying to protect his injured limb. Christian then steps to the center of the ring and sets up the chair, positioning it in the center of the ring. He then reaches down and takes Silencer around the neck, leading him up to his feet and placing him in position for the diamond cutter.

Dollar: He’s gonna hit this move one way or another. He’s bound and determined to destroy Silencer.

Christian rushes across the ring and begins to leap towards the chair when he spots Harrison sliding into the ring in front of him. Aaron has just reaches his feet when Christian breaks up the cutter attempt and instead steps off the chair, launching himself at Harrison, who side steps him jus in time to send the Phoenix flying into the top rope.

Christian bounces off the cables chest first, staggering back into the waiting clutches of Harrison, who wedges a shoulder to his spine and heaves him up into the back drop on the chair. But Christian floats over, landing right behind Harrison, who spins around, gets a kick to the gut and then is ultimately dropped with a DDT into the chair. Harrison’s head snaps back as his body goes limp, falling across the mats. In the meanwhile Christian is racing to his feet and turning to acknowledge that Silencer has reached a foot, unable to put pressure on his other leg.

Dollar: DDT right into the chair! Christian is somehow countering this two on one scenario to fend off these plotting bastards.

Susie: I thought two on ones were right up Silencer’s alley.

Dollar: Not this type.

Savior rushes across the ring, hobbling slightly and then steps off the steel chair he just employed as a weapon against Harrison, launching himself into a lariat that connects against Silencer’s throat. Both men are taken over the cables, flipping to the outside and hitting with a splat across the mats.

Dollar: And the fight goes back to the outside once again. Christian determined to tear Silencer apart.

Silencer crawls across the mats and employs the steps to reach his feet, leaning against them for support. That’s when Christian comes barreling in and eats a back elbow to his lips. Savior staggers back, clutching at his teeth, and then gets another running start only to have Silencer catch him around the waist then snap back into a belly to belly suplex. Christian flips over completely and crashes upside down against the steps, his lower back taking a great deal of punishment as it collides with the steel.

Dollar: Did I really just see that? Christian flipping over completely and crashing against the steel stairs with a friggin belly to belly.

Susie: I think you saw it…Sorry…wasn’t paying attention. My focus was on that sex face we saw a few moments ago. Why did it look like that dude had a really bad kanker sore in the corner of his mouth he was trying to touch with his tongue.

A banged up Silencer struggles to his feet, leaning against the apron and trying his best to put pressure on his knee, though it won’t support him. His attention is then drawn to Harrison, who is on his knees in the ring, scooping up the chair. Silencer slides back into the ring and staggers towards Aaron, who lifts the chair into the air, actually holding it out to his co-conspirator.

Aaron: It’s all yours, Bud.

Silencer snatches the chair right out of the hands of Harrison and looks down at it’s steel surface, at the multiple dents left it in by his knee. He grimaces but then raises the chair high above his head, about to bring it down on the skull of Harrison.

Dollar: Wait, why is he doing this for? Why is he about to attack his teammate?

Before he can drive the chair into Aaron’s head, his ankles are grabbed and his legs ripped right out from under him. He collapses onto his face and Christian drags him back out to the mats. Silencer lands on one foot, still unable to put weight on the other. But that doesn’t stop him from throwing the chair to Christian, who catches it in front of his face and then ducks when Silencer goes to roundhouse kick the steel against his skull.

Savior rolls across the mats, dropping the chair in the process, ultimately ending up on his feet then turning just in time to catch the inbound Silencer around his neck. He drops him with the diamond cutter, planting the painted mug of his rival right against the chair at long last.

Dollar: He finally nailed it, he finally delivers the cutter on the chair and gets but a small measure of revenge against Silencer. But I don’t think he’s through by a long shot, not after what Cagero and Harrison did to his wife.

The rage inspired Savior gets to his feet, menacingly glaring at Silencer, who lies in a near vegetative condition on the mats. Christian is just about to get his hands on him when he’s blindsided from behind by Frankie Paradise. The lariat to the back of his neck, knocks Christian into the apron, while Paradise rushes around him and slides into the ring.

Dollar: And Paradise at last shows up, letting Christian and Silencer take one another out before he….wait…what the hell am I looking at right now?

Susie: That’s not Frankie…it’s Silencer’s evil twin.

Though the trench coat has been thrown aside, Frankie is still wearing the face-paint of Cagero, and has his hair styled in similar fashion. The addled Savior looks up and spots Frankie staring down at him from the ring, wearing a huge grin while also encouraging him to TRY and get in the ring.

Dollar: Paradise is wearing Silencer’s gear, AND his make-up. Whoa….I just…I just realized what happened here. Frankie assumed Silencer’s identity….

Susie: To buy a bunch of stuff with his Visa card?

Dollar: No…HE was the man who attacked Savior backstage, and had Rose’s cell-phone. This must…this must…wait a minute…that means Frankie and the Blacklist were working together this whole time?

Susie: They should so form their own Dungeon of Doom. I’ll play the part of Kevin Sullivan.

Christian looks down at what he’s done to Silencer, and then back up into the face of Paradise, suddenly realizing that he was played, completely tricked by Frankie.

Dollar: Paradise played Silencer like a flute.

Susie: Are you implying that he blew him?

Now that the fix is in, Christian turns his wrath on Paradise, stepping up onto the apron just when Harrison moves in behind Frankie, patting him on the shoulder and gesturing over Christian’s back. Savior doesn’t bother to turn around, totally obsessed with mangling the pair before him. The only thing that derails him are the arms that wrap around his legs, dragging him down to his feet, before his arms are pulled behind his back and shackled by steel cuffs. Darryl and Frank clutch a shocked Christian by his arms, eyes darting back and forth between their faces.

Christian: What the hell are you guys doing?

Darryl: Christian, your under arrest for attempted vehicular manslaughter. Anything you say can and will be held against you….

The Miranda rights are read but this time Christian isn’t going to listen, tearing free from the cops and rushing into the ring. He slides in and immediately goes after Paradise, driving his shoulder into his ribs. A stunned Frankie goes down with Christian on top of him, employing his head as a battering ram, driving it over and over again into Paradise’s chest.

Frankie throws punches into Christian’s body while Aaron just stands back, watching all of this violence with a grin. He appears particularly amused as the cops slide into the ring and desperately try to grab hold of Christian, prying him off of Frankie, who is kicking at Savior even as he’s dragged away.

Dollar: Now the police are arresting Christian too? Holy crap, this is so friggin twisted. Apparently he was the one who tried to run down Orlando earlier tonight….you know what though, something tells me it might have been Savior’s car, but he wasn’t the one behind the wheel.

Susie: How do you figure?

Dollar: Cause we all saw someone take Christian’s car keys earlier tonight, and this keeps Savior from interfering in whatever goes down throughout the rest of the night…involving the World Heavyweight Championship.

It takes all their combined strength, but the police force Savior out of the ring and begin to pull him up the ramp. He fights with them tooth and nail, absolutely resolute and determined to get his hands on the two men who bamboozled him throughout the night. In spite of his rage, the thought actually crosses his mind that he might be looking at the very two souls responsible for what happened to Rose as well.

Dollar: Christian being dragged away by police, which changes the entire format of this four way. Is this now a triple threat? Who’s going to referee our main event? So much more to come. Find out what happens…NEXT!

The show takes a poorly timed commercial break in the midst of so much insanity, consisting of Christian being dragged kicking and flailing to the backstage area by police, Silencer desperately trying to put weight on his legs and Harrison actually helping Frankie back to his feet. The two men then lock eyes on Silencer, who realizes that he’s in the very same boat as last week, about to compete in a two on one predicament.

The show returns live with Silencer staggering around the ring with the chair in hand, glaring at Harrison, who is stooped forward, gesturing methodically for him to enter. Frankie is doing his very best Karate Kid impersonation, employing the crane stance on one foot. His smile can be seen beneath the layers of Silencer’s face paint that he employed this evening to trick Christian.

Dollar: We are back live on Riot!, and Silencer is in quite the pickle.

Susie: I hope it’s a baby kosher dill.

Dollar: Silencer forced to take two men on at the same time, but this match can’t get started until he drops that chair. And if you‘re just tuning, Christian Savior was taken away by police after it was revealed that it was his car that almost ran down Orlando Cruze backstage.

Official Fitzpatrick adamantly demands he puts the weapon down, but Silencer isn’t about to follow these orders. He climbs to the apron and begins to enter with the chair in hand only to have Fitzpatrick grab hold of it, trying to take the chair out of his clutches. The distraction allows Harrison to come charging in just as the chair is pulled out of Silencer’s hands.

Silencer grabs the referee’s belt, pulls on it to spin him around and then shoves the referee right into the inbound Harrison, driving the chair the official is holding directly into Aaron’s face. The Blacklist member collapses to his back after taking a hard face first collision with the steel.

Susie: Did the referee just hit Harrison with the chair!

Dollar: Thanks to Silencer…and there’s no way he can be disqualified for that technically since he never touched Aaron with the chair himself.

Silencer enters the ring when Frankie comes charging in. Just like last week Silencer remains incredibly elusive, wedging a shoulder to Paradise’s knees and back dropping him over the ropes. Like the week prior, Frankie floats over and lands on the apron though, he then drops into a baseball slide right between Silencer’s legs when his opponent turned to acknowledge the counter. Frankie then reaches up and wraps his hands around Silencer’s waist, trying to drag him down into the sunset flip.

In desperation Cagero holds onto the top rope, refusing to be pulled down into the pinning predicament. So Frankie instead bridges himself up to his feet and turns around, wrapping his arms around Silencer’s waist. He now drops into a backwards roll, attempting to bring him down that way. However, the former World Champion grabs hold of and clings to the top rope, refusing to be pulled into the pinning predicament.

As a result Frankie rolls back to the center of the ring, standing up and then instantly charging at Silencer, who turns around, stands on one foot and delivers a Karate Kid style crane kick to Paradise’s face. The fans go nuts as Silencer channeled the teachings of Mr. Myiagi to deliver the strike that may have put Frankie down and out.

Into the cover Silencer falls on his evil doppelganger.

Dollar: Are you fucking with me right now? Don’t tell me that Silencer’s gonna win after a damned crane kick!

Susie: Best finishing move of all times.

The referee slaps the canvas to a huge ovation from the crowd.

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The moment the referee’s hand comes down for the three, Paradise’s shoulder goes up from the canvas, staving off defeat.

Silencer sits up running his hands through his cracking paint. That’s when Harrison steps in and devastates his opponent with a big kick right to the forehead. Silencer collapses to his back and Harrison stumbles into one of the corners, leaning on it for support, still feeling the effects of that shot with the steel chair. All the while Frankie is fighting his way back to his feet and demanding that the two work as a team. He grabs Silencer by the injured leg and lifts it, using it to roll him over backwards into the waiting arms of Harrison.

Aaron catches Silencer around the waist the moment he gets to his feet. Before Aaron can deliver any moves, Frankie delivers a leaping back heel kick right to Silencer’s forehead. Right after the strike connects, Harrison snaps back into a release German suplex.

Silencer lands on the back of his skull and flips over to his knees, looking totally and completely out of it. That’s when Paradise rushes across the ring, bouncing off the ropes, and when he passes by Harrison, Aaron shoves him along to put greater momentum into a lethal front dropkick. Both boots nail Silencer to his skull, at last putting him to the canvas. Frankie then stands up, grabs Silencer’s legs and flips forward into the jack-knife cover.

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Silencer gets his shoulder up, resulting in an uproar of approval from the riveted fans.

Dollar: I thought Frankie for sure had the pinfall after that….but he came up just short…which NO, was not a crack at his height.

Susie: Hehe, he’s just a couple inches taller than Desmond Drake.

To his feet the lamb is led to the slaughter. A boot to Silencer’s gut doubles him over before he’s whipped into Harrison, who catches him around the neck on his way end. He pulls Silencer’s head under his seat and then lifts him into the air before finishing it off with a pulling piledriver.

Even dumping his opponent on his head is not enough for Harrison, who HAS to dish out more punishment on the controversial Cagero. He grabs Silencer around the neck and rolls him to his stomach before straddling his back. He sits on his kidneys and wraps arms around Silencer’s neck, lifting up on his head and applying a sleeper hold. Frankie then steps in and begins to kick at Silencer’s face over and over again. He even drops down and begins to grind his wrist tape against his rival’s eyes considering that he’s entirely exposed and defenseless against this onslaught.

Official Fitzpatrick insists that Harrison break the hold as a result of this blatant cheating on Frankie’s part. The submission is released and Aaron leaps into the air before ultimately stomping down at the back of his opponent’s head. Silencer tries to cover up but it’s futile. Aaron grabs him by his hair and leads him up to his knees, shouting into his ear.

Harrison: You brought this on yourself my boy. You brought this on yourself.

Frankie steps in and snatches Silencer’s head out of Aaron’s clutches, placing it in a front chancery before Paradise sweeps his leg down to the canvas in order to deliver a DDT with greater force and impact. The slam of Silencer’s head to the ring sends him flipping over to his back where he’s pinned by Frankie.

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Nope….not enough to get the job done…Super Silencer kicks out again. The second his arm launches form the ring, Harrison grabs him by the wrist, using it to pull him over to his knees, apply a double underhook and drop him with a double arm DDT. Silencer’s skull grinds against the canvas and he flips over to his back. Aaron sits up and shouts at Paradise.

Harrison: NOW go for the cover.

Frankie scrambles into the lateral press once again.

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STILL not enough, Silencer gets a shoulder up.

Dollar: What does it take…what does it take to put Silencer away? It’s like this man is immune to pain or something.

Susie: And why isn’t Aaron making any pin attempts?

Dollar: I haven’t a clue and I’m not even going to TRY and get into Harrison’s head. It’s a very scary place.

Already Frankie has gotten frustrated, standing up and immediately putting the boots repeatedly to Silencer’s body and primarily targeting the knee.

Frankie: Time to finish what I started, Bitch.

Obviously Paradise is eluding to the numerous assaults on the knee throughout the knee that commenced at Awakening and have continued up until this point. He lifts the leg into the air and steps around it, beginning to apply a spinning toe hold when Silencer lifts his other foot and wedges it to Frankie’s bum. He then kicks him off and in the process sends Frankie charging with the top of his head directly into a rising Harrison’s crotch. The impact knocks Aaron off his feet and sends him flying back, instantly grabbing at his crotch while Pasradise staggers back into the waiting clutches of Silencer, bringing him down into a backslide.

Dollar: Oh God…NOT AGAIN! Tell me he hasn’t caught Frankie again!

The referee slides into position making the count with every fan upright, realizing that Silencer has just overcome the odds once again.

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Fitzpatrick’s hand stops just short of the canvas when Frankie kicks out, dropping over to his knees in the process.

Dollar: No, Frankie kicks out…thank God he kicks out.

Just as Frankie falls over to his knees Silencer steps in and takes him around the neck, snapping back into a modified version of the downward spiral, or at least that was his intention. Frankie counters by catching the crease of Silencer’s knee and plucking his leg right out from under him.. Silencer collapses to his back and then Paradise stands up, still clutching the knee. He now rolls his rival to his stomach and steps over the crease of the knee, lifting it up into a Boston Crab.

Dollar: Though Silencer is no stranger to crabs beneath his belt-line, this submission is a lot worse than any simple parasite. Though some might compare Paradise to a parasite.

Susie: I like to compare him to Ronald Weasley.

Dollar: Why?

Susie: Cause I compare EVERYONE to Ronald Weasley.

Silencer is already tempted by the idea of tapping out. His palm extends, ready to slap the canvas due to the excruciating pain inflicted on his knee…but he just can’t bring himself to do it…to have two submissions loses on his record. Therefore he buries his fingers deep into the canvas and begins to drag not only himself, but Frankie across the ring in the direction of the cables.

Dollar: I can’t believe this crap…does someone have some kryptonite to finally kill this guy?

Susie: I do…I always carry kryptonite with me.

Dollar: Susie, that’s a booger.

The fingers of Cagero are close…so close to the ropes, just inches away from catching the bottom one and escaping this horrible plight. But it doesn’t happen…nope…thanks to Harrison, who stomps down hard on Silencer’s fist. He then stands on top of BOTH of Silencer’s hands, keeping them pressed to the canvas while he bends down to smack the back of Silencer’s head.

Harrison: Say the words Silencer….just two words…come on, you can do it….just those two words.

Aaron cups a hand around his ear and stoops down to amplify his hearing. It seems at long last that Silencer is left with no other alternative, looking up at Harrison and shouting into his ear.

Silencer: FUCK YOU!

Harrison closes his eyes and shakes his head.

Harrison: Those weren’t the words we wanted to hear, Simon.

Frankie lifts his foot and stomps the back of Silencer’s head, over and over again until Fitzpatrick is forced to intervene. He pushes Aaron back and then Frankie drags Silencer to the center of the ring, sitting down on the crease of the knee, putting even more pressure on the Boston Crab.

Dollar: Just give up Silencer…what are you really fighting for here? The chance to screw with Tay-Tay? Does it really matter that much to you?

Susie: Me thinks he’ll do anything to get into Orlando’s head, vicariously through messing with his main squeeze.

Silencer employs a primal roar of aggression in order to push himself off the canvas with his palms and begin dragging himself back towards the ropes. Harrison and the official are still bickering, Aaron calmly threatening the referee not to lay a finger on him while the official furiously barks back at him to adhere to the rules, something Harrison has never done.

As a result of this distraction, Harrison doesn’t realize that Silencer is crawling past and reaching out for the ropes once more. His hand falls just short and his palm now lingers above the canvas as he falls to his chest.

Dollar: He’s gonna tap…Silencer is going to submit for the second time in his career.

All those in attendance are imploring Silencer not to do it, begging him, pleading with him, almost dropping to their knees in prayer that he doesn’t give Paradise the honor of submitting him. Which he DOESN’T do. Silencer reaches out, grabs the bottom rope and the crowd goes nuts. But the argument between the referee and Harrison proves to be a double edged sword, as not only does it keep Harrison from interfering, but it keeps Fitzpatrick from spotting Silencer holding the ropes.

Therefore a grinning Paradise drags Silencer back to the center of the ring and then sits back down on the knee, keeping the Boston Crab synched in.. There is truly no other option left for Silencer, raising a hand into the air and bringing it down to the canvas for the submission….no…he doesn’t….he balls up his fist and rams it against the canvas to instead push himself up until his knuckles.

Dollar: God…just give up already. Doesn’t Silencer realize this is a total lost cause?

Susie: I don’t think so, Johnny. He’s pretty pig headed, and by that, I mean he has total pig nostrils.

Silencer has withstood a lot and come back from it, and on this occasion it doesn’t appear to be any different. He twists so that he comes down on his shoulder and begins to throw fist after fist into the ankle of Paradise.

Before Silencer can fight free Harrison intervenes, at last pushing past the referee in order to get his hands on Cagero. A knee is planted right to Silencer’s temple, the collision causing the leg to fall out of Frankie’s clutches as a result. Aaron looks up at Frankie and motions to Silencer with outstretched palms.

Harrison: Now finish him, Lover-Boy.

Frankie winces at Aaron’s demands, but turns around and sets, putting palms on his knees and eagerly anticipating the rising of Cagero.. Aaron isn’t about to sit around and wait for Silencer to stand up, not having the patience for it whatsoever. He steps in, grabs the chin of Silencer and leads him up to his feet, then spins him around just as Frankie leaps into the air for the Snap-Shot. But Silencer bends down at the last second, catching the inner thighs of Paradise and throwing him over his head.

Harrison looks up just in time to spot Frankie crashing into his chest, both men collapsing to the canvas with Paradise coming down on top of his new partner in crime. The two hit the ring and Frankie rolls away to his feet, looking stunned by what he just did. He then turns around and rushes at Silencer, who quickly reaches down grabbing Aaron’s wrist and log rolls him into the inbound legs of Paradise. Frankie is forced to jump over Aaron in the process, and while in mid-air Silencer catches him with a high impact dorpkick to the chest, swatting him down out of the air like he were a pest.

Paradise collapses to the canvas and goes rolling across it before ultimately spilling to the outside of the ring.

Dollar: How does this man just keep on doing this? Silencer again coming back against odds that should be insurmountable. Now he’s caught Frankie with the mother of all dropkicks.

Susie: Spinach…I’m guessing Silencer eats lots of it.

As Paradise rolls to the outside of the ring Silencer scrambles into action, approaching Aaron, who suddenly rises to his knees and delivers a forearm against the ribs of his inbound opponent. The former World Champion bends down, clutching at his mid-section while Aaron stands up in front of him and spins around into a roaring elbow that nails his adversary to the temple.

Silencer is sent twisting into the cables, falling against them while Frankie leaps to the apron behind him, reaching over and hooking both of his arms. He keeps them pinned to Silencer’s side, leaving him defenseless against Harrison, who comes rushing in and dropping down into a spear to the ribs. But Silencer back elbows Frankie and steps out of the way, causing Harrison to drive his shoulder through the ropes into Frankie’s….no…Paradise won’t allow this to happen for a second week in a row. Instead he leaps Harrison and the top rope, flipping forward and landing on his feet just as Silencer catches him to the jaw with a super kick.

Susie: Major boo-boo!

Dollar: And now the super kick out of nowhere connecting on Paradise. This guy just has no luck against Silencer.

Frankie collapses to his back and flip flops around like he were just hit with a thousand bolts of electricity to the chest. Silencer falls to his knees, unable to capitalize on the kick after the damage inflicted on his knee. Harrison would prevent it even if Silencer could make the pin, evident as he steps in and takes his opponent’s head into his arms. Just as Silencer is led to his feet he slaps the arms of his opponent aside and delivers a knife edge chop across Aaron’s chest, followed by another, and then another, and then another,

Aaron steps back with his chest welting from the chops, which don’t stop until his opponent is at last off his feet and on the canvas. Silencer then turns back to his other adversary, but finds that Paradise has rolled to the outside of the apron. This doesn’t stop Cagero, who reaches through the ropes, takes Frankie by the jaw and leads him up to his feet, stretching him back first over the top rope and exposing his sternum to a number of clubbing blows.

Silencer is using everything in his arsenal to keep his opponents at bay, but it can only hold up for so long. Harrison steps in behind Silencer and stops his onslaught upon Frankie, taking his shoulder and spinning him around only to receive another chop across his chest, followed by another, and then another that has him back peddling. Just before his chest can start spurting blood, Harrison stops Silencer’s momentum via the knee to the ribs,.

The former Champion stoops over, coughing up a lung while Harrison takes him around the head, dragging it under his seat then lifting him up for the cradle piledriver. But somehow Silencer is able to twist his body just before he can be dropped on top of his head once again by Aaron. He shifts his weight to the side and falls on his feet, flipping over onto them and taking Harrison by the wrist. He pulls him forward and catches Aaron around the neck, bridging him over backwards in preparation for the Break the Silence.

Dollar: Not the Break the Silence, if he delivers this move I swear I’ll vomit.

Susie: You’ll get better results the deeper you can get finger down your throat.

The crowd jumps up just as Silencer is about to put Aaron down, but instead it’s Simon who hits the canvas when Harrison twists his body out of position for the Break the Silence, hooks up his opponent’s leg, heaves him into the air and drops him with a shin breaker across his raised knee. Silencer begins to limp just as Frankie rushes in out of nowhere, leaps into the air, catches him around the neck and drops back into the Snap-Shot. Silencer’s face collides with enough force against the canvas to knock him totally and completely unconscious. He flops over to his back and Frankie quickly grabs his legs, flipping forward into the jackknife cover.

Dollar: SNAP-SHOT! SNAP-SHOT out of nowhere!

Silencer is out like a light and Frankie has him primed for the pin as Fitzpatrick falls into position to make the count, Harrison not doing a thing to break it up.

1

2

3!

The whole crowd is unanimous in their expression of disgust at the sight of Frankie Paradise picking up a pinfall over Silencer, who kicks out just a second too late.

Dollar: Frankie has done it, he’s got the monkey off his back…

Susie: Where the hell did he get a monkey? So not fair.

Dollar: He caught Silencer with his pants down, nailing the Snap-Shot when the number one contender was distracted with Harrison. In the end the number’s game in combination with Christian’s pre-match attack was just too much for Silencer.

A banged up Frankie rises to his feet and has his arm raised in the air triumphantly, but not by Fitzpatrick. Instead he looks up and realizes that Harrison is the one lifting his wrist aloft, prompting Paradise to quickly pull away before rolling out of the ring, wisely putting some distance between himself and the sociopath. As Aaron watches his reaction, a grin forms across his face.

Dollar: I’m still stunned by this. Frankie and Aaron worked so well as a team, not only in this match, but throughout this entire night apparently. Setting up Orlando Cruze, Christian Savior and Silencer., not to mention crippling Rose Savior But it looks like that relationship is tenuous at best, lasting just long enough for Frankie to reserve the position of special referee for our main event…if we even have a main event tonight.

Susie: We could always just air more clips from The Room.

Dollar: Heaven help me, I’d probably take that over the train wreck we may be on the verge of seeing.

Frankie backs up the ramp, grimacing towards the smile on Harrison’s face. Silencer turns to his side, eyes batting as he tries to regain some semblance of consciousness. Ever so slowly, with the aid of the referee he starts to stand up, Fitzpatrick allowing Cagero to put some weight on his thin shoulders.

It takes all of Silencer’s strength, but he finally gets to his feet…..or his foot to be more precise. Clearly he’s going to be in need of some serious medical assistance after everything that he’s been put through this evening, leaving him incapable of being a factor throughout the rest of the night.

Taylor Chase elicits quite the reaction, none of it positive, when her face appears on screen. She’s in the process of doing some last minute warm ups, squatting and then doing some side to side twists in order to get her abdominals in prime shape for the bout she’s moments form participating in. Clearly she has no idea what happened to Rose Savior…completely oblivious to everything considering that Frankie ‘conveniently’ shattered her cell-phone earlier tonight.

The Brod: This is it…Pumpkin.

Tay-Tay looks up at last to acknowledge her father, who steps into her dressing room and puts a palm on her shoulder.

Tay-Tay: Thanks Daddy.

Arms wrap around The Brod’s neck, Father and Daughter already embracing in a celebratory hug.

The Brod: I don’t need to tell you how long you’ve been waiting for this.

Tay-Tay: No, no you don’t.

She steps away only to sit on the bench a few inches away and pull the straps on her knee-pad, tightening the protective steel brace around it. The Brod takes a seat beside her and pats his girl on the knee..

The Brod: And you also know I’m going to be proud of you no matter what happens out there.

A slight tear appears in the corner of her eye.

The Brod: Rather you walk out of there with the title tonight or not, your always going to be a champion in my heart.

Tay-Tay: Wow…thanks Daddy.

The Brod: You’re welcome Pumpkin. I got the speech from that Susan Sarandon movie I was watching last night.

Tay-Tay: Oh well…it’s the thought that counts.

The incredibly fidgeting Tay-Tay stands up and paces across the room, head lowered.

Tay-Tay: But Daddy, I’m not leaving tonight as anything short of World Champion. I know it might piss Orlando off…but frankly, I just don’t care anymore….actually I haven’t cared about anything for a long time…except for fixing my tarnished image in this company. And the only way to do that, after tapping to Silencer last week, after being hit with that cutter from Rose at the pay-per-view, is to win the World Championship tonight.

The Brod: Haven’t seen you this fired up in a long…long time.

Tay-Tay: I’m fed up with it all…and the only way to fix things…is to…is to win the Title.

The Brod: And that’s what your going to do tonight, with me sitting right there, front row center to see it all go down…my Pumpkin’s proudest moment.

Another hug between the two, The Brod patting his girl on the back. Another knock disturbs this tender moment of bonding.

Tay-Tay: What now?

The door opens and Executioner, head of security peeks in.

The Brod: I guess my escort is here.

He takes one last moment to hold his daughter’s hands in his own.

The Brod: You make me so proud.

Tay-Tay: I know.

The Brod steps away, security surrounding him for protection purposes as he’s led towards the ring. Tay-Tay is left alone in the room, continuing to prepare herself rot eh World Title match.

Dollar: Clearly Taylor Chase has no idea what happened to Orlando Cruze AND Rose Savior. She’s still gearing up for her World Title match, which is supposed to happen, NEXT!

The camera slowly zooms in on the very intense eyes of Tay-Tay, her biggest match since arriving in IWC coming up in just minutes.

Rose: Let me go….Take these damn straps off of me!

The demands of Rose Savior gets her absolutely nowhere. The EMTS aren’t letting her go anywhere but the hospital. They have her right at the precipice of the ambulance, the backdoors wide open and ready to accept her into the metaphorical womb, which is only fitting, considering that she’s covered in so much blood that she looks like she was just spat from a uterus.

Rose: God dammit…Christian needs me….he NEEDS ME!

The EMTS are still as silent as Marlene Matlin, deeming Rose unfit to gauge the extent of her injuries considering her severe blood loss and possible cranial injuries, even if she does speak clearly and is able to fight against the straps holding her down.

Rose: If you guys don’t let me go….

Mika: Allow us to finish that threat for you, Comrade.

Rose’s face changes eight different shades all at once when Mika Kozlov and Lukas Montgomery rush around the ambulance and blindside the EMTS. They never see it coming, though they probably wouldn’t put up much of a fight even if they hadn’t. Lukas effortlessly throws one of them into the wall while Mika throws another into the back of the ambulance and slams the doors, trapping them inside.

Rose: You bastards! You BASTARDS! I swear to God I’m gonna…I’m gonna…

Lukas: Do nothing but sit there, piss, moan, and BLEED!

He feels the straps to make sure their tight enough.

Lukas: Heh….so this is what it feels like. Now I know why everyone was having so much fun holding yours truly in bondage tonight.

Mika: You’ve got a date, Missy. Don’t think your gonna skip out on your World Title obligations.

The stretcher is pushed down the corridor with Rose spitting venom at the two shoving her along.

Rose: When you let me out of these straps your going to be very…VERY sorry.

Lukas: Save it for your opponent.

Cameras have returned to the interior of the Manhattan Center just in time to catch Frankie Paradise stepping through the curtains. He’s far too preoccupied flicking paint chips off his cheeks and making sure none of them get on his referee shirt to pay attention to the mutilation of his theme music at the hands of Mr. Hush. He just keeps on keeping on, stepping to the ring and using the towel around his neck to wash away the remnants of the Silencer face pain the was forced to put on to complete the elaborate ruse we witnessed moments ago.

Dollar: The stage is now set ladies and gentlemen, we have our special referee, Frankie Paradise, who…I have to say…pulled off a plot here tonight I never thought he’d be capable of….

Susie: He does better impersonations than Dana Carvey.

Dollar: Do you realize the amount of work he and the Blacklist had to put into everything that went down tonight? They brutalized the World Champion, Rose Savior, they took out Orlando Cruze, Silencer AND Christian Savior. Their plotting was almost…almost….Machiavellian.

Susie: So it was like something a Ninja Turtle would dream up.

Dollar: I said Machiavellian…not Michaelango, you dunce.

Before entering the ring Frankie just can’t help sucking up to Tay-Tay’s Pops, The Brod seated exactly where he promised he would be, front row center. He stands up and high fives Frankie as the special referee passes before at last rolling into the ring.

Taylor Chase is equally as focused on the match at hand as Paradise, so much so in fact that she also ignores the otherwise awesome play on her entry theme. She moves down the ramp to the unfamiliar tunes, but stops when spotting her Daddy at ringside, not settling for a high five with the patriarch of the Chase wrestling dynasty. She reaches over the barricade and the two hug one last time before she steps up the ramp, up the turnbuckle and pauses to soak in the waves upon waves of hatred.

Dollar: Tay-Tay not letting anything take her down tonight, no crowd reaction, no Frankie Paradise, nothing…she’s focused on finally accomplishing her life-time goal of becoming the World Heavyweight Champion, and doing so right here in front of her father.

Susie: This is HUGE for Tay-Tay, and the only thing that could make it even bigger is…

Dollar: Don’t you dare say glitter.

Susie: Okay then….I’ll shut up.

Dollar: But Tay-Tay might not be stepping into this match with such confidence if she knew what happened to Rose earlier tonight, or what happened to Orlando moments ago. Does she even have a clue what Frankie and the Blacklist have been up to all night long?

Tay-Tay drops to the ring and suspiciously eyes the man who hasn’t exactly been the most effective of allies. Nevertheless she opts to look past Frankie, in spite of the fact that he‘s now in her face insisting that he has to frisk her for weapons.. She then turns towards the stage, anxiously waiting for Rose, ready to face the woman who bested her at Awakening and get a small measure of revenge for the first person who’s caused her to taste defeat….

Laymon: Hold on…hold on…

The last person anyone expected…or WANTED…to see is Jacob Laymon…DEAL with it…because he steps right to the stage before rushing down the ramp with the briefcase in hand stolen from Axl Evermore moments earlier.

Dollar: Why? Why is Jacob Laymon…Orlando’s FORMER Head of Talent Relations on his way to the ring?

Susie: Cause he’s bald…and bald people are naturally untamed and un-house broken. He’ll probably pee all over our announce table to mark his territory.

Dollar: Laymon has managed to fuck up over and over again the past few weeks, so please don’t tell me he’s being trusted with yet ANOTHER vital task.

Clearly that’s EXACTLY what Laymon was sent out here for, hence why the briefcase presumably containing the original Evolution Championship is in hand. It swings to his side as he slips through the ropes, microphone gripped in his other palm.

Laymon: Tay-Tay…I’m here to at long last put your mind at ease.

She looks anything but eased by the presence of Laymon, instantly not taking a liking to this interruption.

Laymon: You worry that Orlando puts title ambitions ahead of his love for you? Well I’m here now to prove otherwise. Because instead of forcing you to risk injury and overexertion, he sent me out here to give you THIS!

The briefcase is outstretched.

Laymon: Orlando Cruze is proud to announce that you, Taylor Chase, are the BRAND NEW Evolution Champion. Congratulations, Doll-Face, you’ve earned it.

The case continues to be extended towards Tay-Tay, over and over again, Laymon absolutely clueless to her complete disregard of the Championship contained inside.

Laymon: Obviously Orlando wouldn’t do this for just anyone, Tay-Tay. The Evolution Championship is HIS brain-child…it’s his baby….and he wants you to bring that baby into the world….Wait…that was probably a poor choice in words.

Tay-Tay: I’ll say.

Laymon: Anyway, this should prove to you at long last, that Orlando adores and cherishes you.. He’s GIVING you the Evolution Title so you don’t even have to compete tonight. You get gold without even breaking a sweat. So you know what? Let‘s call off the World Title match…it‘s not necessary anymore. You‘ve got gold, be happy with it.

Finally Tay-Tay does touch the briefcase, in order to push it away instead of pull it to her chest.

Laymon: Tay-Tay? What gives?

The case isn’t taken, but the microphone is, snatched right out of Jacob’s hand.

Tay-Tay: I don’t want to be handed anything! This title match tonight is about showing the world I can get things done on my own. That I’m not a joke. That I’m not to be trifled with. And Orlando, he knows this…I….I…can’t believe he would pull this type of crap on me.

First there’s anger, then there’s sadness, and ultimately depression.

Tay-Tay: All this proves….the fact that he’s keeping me from winning the World Title tonight…is that he really does care more about HIS Championship, than he does about me.

Frankie: You’re right, Sugar-Ti….Sugar-Tay…you’re absolutely right.

Frankie at last speaks up, and actually chooses his words wisely as with microphone in hand, given to him by Jessica Wilde, he steps in between Tay-Tay and Laymon.

Frankie: Drop the case and get to steppin’ Laymon.

Jacob doesn’t have to be told twice, putting the briefcase at Taylor’s feet then departing the ring in a hurry.

Frankie: Tay-Tay…my girl…I didn’t want to be the one who does this…because I’ve lived by my promise to never intentionally hurt you. But I’ve got something you need to hear.

From the chest pocket of his referee shirt, a cell-phone is withdrawn, and the play button on the video recorder is hit. He holds the microphone up to his cell so that Taylor can hear loud and clear what he secretly recorded earlier in the night.

Orlando: I don’t know how else to say this…but….when you win the opportunity to special referee Taylor’s match tonight…you need to make sure Tay-Tay…..doesn‘t win.

The phone shuts off after Tay-Tay hears the message, forced to pick her jaw up off of the floor. In spite of this piece of highly incriminating evidence, Taylor shakes her head, still refusing to believe that the man she loves would try to cost her everything…..EVERYTHING…..her title ambitions…her credibility…her trust…her love…all to fulfill his own selfish ambitions.

Frankie: I hate being the one who has to burst your love bubble, Tay-Tay, but I couldn’t let you go around any longer looking at Orlando through beer goggles, unable to see him for the calculating, cold and uncaring son of a bitch I knew him to be from day one. He’s not like me, Tay-Tay, he doesn’t appreciate you, he isn’t willing to sacrifice for you.

He steps in and puts a palm on her shoulder.

Frankie: I sacrificed my World Title shot last week so you could step into this ring and win the championship. Orlando would NEVER do that for you, and he just proved it. He’s trying to buy you off with the Evolution gold. He’s treating you like an idiot. He’s treating you like Christian Savior. He’s been manipulating you since the very beginning. He only put you in that number one contenders match last week because he thought you’d come out here and lie down for him….though you’d probably have a lot more fun lying down for me…

The emotional turbulence running through Tay-Tay shields her from the sexual innuendoes made by Paradise, who gets right back on point.

Frankie: He thought he could play you, that you would be nothing more than his loyal little lap dog and let him keep the World Championship by accepting the Evolution Title instead. I would never try to manipulate you like that, Tay-Tay. I would never play you like that…never….because I appreciate you. And I know just how much that World Title means to you.

He brushes hair back off of Chase’s shoulders.

Frankie: Which is why I’ve made sure that you’ll be walking out of here tonight, with that World Title sitting right here…

He uses this as an excuse to pat Chase on her shoulder, the pat turns to a rub, then a caress.

Rose: I swear I’m going to kill you…kill you both…

Her screams are a prelude to her arrival as the stretcher is pushed through the curtains by Mika and Lukas. Savior is still strapped to the cot, desperately trying to get free and lash out at the pair who lead her mangled, blood deprived body towards the ring. Aaron Harrison is the last person to step through the curtains, pausing on the stage with his arms crossed over his chest and an attentive eye focused on the struggling World Champion.

Dollar: Wait…the Blacklist has Rose…And they’re bringing her mangled body out on that stretcher. Are they actually going to…going to…FORCE her to face Taylor for the title? She can’t be in any condition for a fight.

Susie: Are you sure? Look at her. She’s pretty fired up.

Dollar: The woman has lost like a gallon of blood, plus who knows how many internal injuries were inflicted on her.

Susie: Superman. He’d know, cause he’s got X-Ray vision. That’s why I always wear led panties.

Dollar: And here I thought we’d reach our quota on craziness.

Rose fights the straps, unwisely using up all her remaining strength. The Blacklist stops at ringside and then lifts the backboard that Rose is mounted upon for stability sakes, sliding it under the ropes with Rose tied down to it.

Frankie steps in and kneels down at Rose’s side, slowly brushing her hair back out of her face only to have him pull his hand back when she bites at his fingers.

Frankie: Tay-Tay…look at this…look at all of this? I did it…I did it for you.

Chase doesn’t know what to think of what she’s seeing, so confused…so emotionally wrought after the revelation that Orlando was out to screw her over from the get-go…’apparently’….A tear rolls down her cheek as she looks from the creepy Paradise to her father, the Brod simply shaking his head, at a total loss for words.

Frankie: Why? Because the only thing I’ve ever worried about is making you happy.

The straps on the backboard are unlatched as instantly Rose reaches up once her arms are free, locking them in another position, around Frankie’s throat. He begins to gasp for air, his face going as red as the crimson trickling from the open wounds in Paradise’s scalp. He collapses to his back with Rose climbing on top, continuing to choke the very life out of his body. His eyes are bulging from their sockets and locking on Tay-Tay, who is still too shaken to do anything but stand there, unflinching.

Frankie: Tay-Tay…please….I love…y…

Rose squeezes tighter every time she hears a single syllable exit Frankie’s neck, until he’s now incapable of speech. His esophagus is seconds from imploding in her palms when Tay-Tay dashes across the ring, dives into the air and bashes Rose right in the temple with the steel brace wrapped around her temple. Savior collapses to the canvas, taking a shot even her great…great…great…grandmother could probably feel.

Dollar: THE TKO! THE TKO! Chase just cracked the World Champion in her skull with the frackin TKO!

Susie: And it doesn’t look like she can take anymore shots like that either.

Dollar: You aren’t kidding.

Tay-Tay turns and glares down at the motionless Rose, eyes darting to her Father once more. She waits until The Brod finally gives a nod. He now watches as his Pumpkin drops down across the chest of Savior. As quickly as possible, Frankie darts to his feet, drops to the canvas and makes the count to wails from the fans.

1

Dollar: It can’t happen this way…is it really gonna happen this way?

2

Dollar: Is Tay-Tay gonna become champion!?!

3!

Dollar’s question is instantly answered when Frankie leaps to his feet, one hand gripping his bruised throat, and the other raising Tay-Tay’s arm up high in victory. Chase has tears streaming down her cheeks, but it’s unclear rather their tears of joy, or tears of sadness, for in winning the World Championship, reaching the pinnacle of her career, her personal life, everything she built with Orlando may have just come crumbling down.

Dollar: It’s over…she’s done it….Taylor Chase has just become the NEW IWC World Heavyweight Champion!

Susie: But where’s her sparkly?

Dollar: Tay-Tay has just done what no one…no one thought she was going to pull off here tonight. She has just ascended to the very top of the IWC….she is your…OUR….World Champ.

The fans may be standing, but they are absolutely floored at the sight of Tay-Tay rising to her feet, the celebration continuing. Harrison is gesturing for someone at this point, urging, surprisingly, Damion Sommers to emerge from the backstage area with the World Heavyweight Title in his possession. The man who was hiding the World Title on the behalf the Blacklist, the very one they mistakenly held hostage in the trunk of their car last week, forks over the Championship to Harrison. He throws the gold over his arms for only a moment before letting it dangle from his hand as he approaches the ring. It doesn’t even bother him as he tosses the Championship over the ropes and into the clutches of Paradise.

Dollar: Damion Sommers? He was the one holding the title for the Blacklist this whole time? Aaron Harrison was right when he swore no one would be able to find the gold if they went looking for it. Who would have suspected that Sommers was the one holding it?

Susie: I have, because if Ronald McDonald has taught us anything, it’s that clowns can never be trusted.

Frankie approaches Tay-Tay and bends down, placing the World Title on the very spot he cleared of hair earlier. Chase finally snaps out of it as she looks over at the gold weighing down her shoulder, the World Heavyweight Championship. She then turns back to Rose, who is still lying comatose on the canvas, blood oozing from the large cracks in her forehead, widened after that shot with the knee brace.

Dollar: Tonight…and God was it ever a crazy night…we have just crowned a NEW World Heavyweight Champion. Taylor Chase has done the unthinkable…she’s defeated Rose Savior.

Mika, Aaron and Lukas stand shoulder to shoulder to shoulder on the stage, watching the proceedings while Kozlov and Montgomery laugh and Harrison views the spectacle with dead eyes.

Tay-Tay looks just as dead as she glances at the Championship, and then slowly turns her attention to her Father.

Tay-Tay: Da…Da…Daddy….I DID IT!

All of a sudden she leaps to her feet and begins to hop around with incredible excitement, swinging the World Title belt above her head. She turns to Frankie and gives him a big wet one on the lips before dashing to the outside. Paradise is left behind as pale as a sheet, before grabbing his heart and falling over. Tay-Tay leaps over the barricade right into her Father’s arms. He gives her a big squeeze to commemorate the moment. Chase then turns and leaps over the barricade before hoping up and down, up and down with the gold thrust out to her side.

Tay-Tay: I did it…I did it…I did it! I am truly the BEST! The BEST! The BEST!

Tay-Tay continues to hoop and holler to the absolute disgust of the crowd.

Dollar: I…I…literally have NOTHING to say.

The camera pulls in close, or more accurately Taylor grabs it drags it around to zoom upon her face.

Tay-Tay: I AM THE CHAMPION! I did it!!

A lipstick smudge is left on the camera lens as she gives it a huge kiss.

Darryl: Get in the car Christian.

By the top of his head Savior is forced down into the backseat of the police car, the camera filming from the dashboard. He sits down with a disgruntled expression on his face, his pleas falling on deaf ears as the door is slammed shut in his face.

Christian: I’m telling you guys it wasn’t me…it wasn’t me! I didn’t try to run over anyone. My keys were stolen! Don’t you have to do some type of investigation?

The cops are too busy talking outside of the car to hear Savior out, or are just plain ignoring the man they believe to have almost ran them down earlier tonight.

You’re wasting your breathe.

Every hair on the back of Christian’s neck stands up as he slowly turns his eyes to the man seated in the cruiser beside him. The Icon returns the Rising Phoenix’s menacing glare, Orlando and Christian coming eye to eye. Clearly the cops would rather the two take care of each other and save the court quite a bit of time.

Orlando: I think the two of us need to have a talk.

Christian: For once…I agree with you.

….Boys…

Orlando and Savior quickly turn their attention to the front driver’s seat of the police car where they find themselves perplexed to be staring at Silencer. He’s kicked back and has a bag of ice wedged to his swollen knee with one hand, while swinging a pair of keys around his opposite finger.

Silencer: Can you believe these idiots just left the keys in the ignition…and oh yeah…I think all three of us need to have a fucking pow-wow.

Cruze and Christian exchange another awkward, tense stare before cameras shift to the exterior of the police cruiser where Darrly and Frank are busy talking to each other. Suddenly the police siren wails, causing them to jump out of their skin. They then turn just in time to see their own car screeching out of the building, Silencer behind the wheel, and both Orlando and Christian in the back-seat.

Darryl: Ah shit…do we call this one in?

Frank: Are you kidding me? This is the second car I’ve lost this week. No fucking way do we call this in. I‘m not going to lose my job on account of these idiots.

Darryl: And you just know they‘ll ask us to take a piss in a cup…which is a test I‘ll never pass.

Desmond appears taller than ten men standing upon one another’s shoulders, metaphorically towering over all the others gathered around the table. He’s pleased with himself in spite of the Board’s decision, having stood up for what he believed was right and made his point. Sasha renders the verdict on behalf of her cohorts, while Tomlinson stands in the back of the room, grabbing a glass of water and looking suspiciously at the fax machine, which is printing some unknown document.

Sasha: Desmond…the Board has reached a decision concerning how t handle things moving forward.

The confidence is momentarily shaken by fear, Desmond feeling the dagger digging through his gut once again.

Mr. D: And though I don’t entirely endorse their decision….

Sasha: DAAAD.

Mr. D: WHAT!?! I still think I’m perfectly suited…the ONLY person suited for bringing order to the IWC.

Sasha: That’s NOT going to happen, because Desmond…

Drake takes a deep breathe.

Sasha: We’re going to give yourself and Orlando Cruze one more opportunity to prove you can handle the responsibilities of running the Independent….

Tomlinson: Hold on…

The grin Drake was starting to grow attached to, slowly fizzles.

With a document in hand, freshly printed from the fax, Tomlinson approaches Mr. D and Sasha, handing over the thin, but very incriminating piece of paper. Both sets of eyes read simultaneously before raising to stare not at words, but at each other. They then turn their focus to Drake.

Mr. D: Did you know about this?

Drake: About…what?

Sasha: So you have no idea what we’re holding here?

Drake: How could I?

Tomlinson: Desmond…we just received a contract signed by Orlando Cruze…

Drake: Oh?

Tomlinson: A contract for a World Title match at Upping the Ante.

Drake: Okay.

Clearly he’s not getting it.

Tomlinson: In which whomever emerged champion from tonight’s edition of Riot!, will face….one on one for the World Heavyweight Championship….Orlando Cruze.

That smile that fizzled, has gone totally and completely flat.

Mr. D: Told ya so.

FADE TO BLACK