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Ba’al: We will have finality….

The troubling comments highlight a series of equally as troubling scenes….A standoff that would give Jon Woo a raging semi takes place in and around the ring.

Ba’al: We made the final judgment several months ago and the execution will at last be carried out tonight…

In the ring is the Black Crusade, P Clarence Whitman III, Katelyn Buehler and Robert.

Around the ring is the Sinistry, Pestilence and Desmond Drake.

In the hands of the Black Crusade are an assortment of dangerous weapons.

In the hands of Ba’al is a microphone as he delivers his chilling edict.

Ba’al: We will have an execution….an execution….an execution…

This same ominous statement is made by Rachel Foxx as she gently brushes fingers across the cheek of Jessica Wilde.

Rachel: They lack the vision to see what is coming tonight…

Back to Ba’al, and back to his ominous warnings, now directed into the face of Lucas Knight.

Ba’al: You would be unwise to overlook the severity of tonight’s execution…

The group that has simply had ENOUGH of all this foreshadowing, the very group of talents that stood in opposition to the Sinistry at the beginning of the show, storm to the ring to seek their own finality. Eight individuals stand in the squared circle and prepare to once again challenge the twisted Frost’s, and all those who branch from their warped family tree.

Mr. Gaunt: Some form of capital punishment has been nauseatingly hyped throughout the entirety of this night, so please Sinistry, cease with the melodramatics, dispense with the theatrics, make your way to the ring and let us get this clusterfuck brawl over with shall we?

Said cluster seems to be on the cusp of exploding before the eyes of millions watching around the world, as the Sinistry answers the challenge laid out by the cane brandishing Gaunt. However, they provide an answer that does not satiate Gaunt’s demands.

Ba’al:….there is only one way for this to end….for this execution to be completed. It will not be achieved by a battle for IWC’s soul….for that battle has already been lost….There is no redemption, there is no salvation, there is no force that could ever redeem the IWC. So why battle for something that is already a lost cause….?

Several of the skirmishes waged between the Sinistry and their litany of enemies are recapped, including Buehler throwing Jessica Wilde off a stage while Katelyn wears a mask of blood….P Clarence Whitman III being tossed spine first into a ring-post by Executioner….Rachel Foxx nailing the face of Buehler with a gavel….Legion delivering the Misery on Ba’al…and the grievances both groups have committed on one another goes on and on.

Desmond Drake: All of your challenges. All of your demands. All of your future ambitions. They are irrelevant. Because…

Cut to Desmond, the diminutive co-owner of the IWC, standing beside Sinistry as they stare down the army of IWC loyalists. Drake only parts from his present company to accommodate Susie Moore as she crawls to the stage and has a microphone placed in front of her lips.

Susie:…the IWC…is CLOSED….

Shots of Taylor Chase holding up the World Heavyweight Championship….

Ba’al: Finality…

Shots of Silverwolf chokeslamming Karen McBride through a table at Invictus….

Ba’al: Judgment….

Shots of Gavin Taylor and Porno Lad standing across from one another as they stare at the Tag Team Titles lowered from their palms….

Ba’al: Execution…

Chase Global celebrating with the Evolution Title….a bloodied battle tested Blacklist standing outside of the Hell in a Cell…P Clarence Whitman III diving off the top rope for the first time in his career….Legion throwing Rose Savior over the top rope at the Rumble….Orlando Cruze and Taylor Chase passionately kissing in the middle of the ring…..Lucas Knight being welcomed to the ring by an army of cheerleaders.

Susie:….the IWC…is CLOSED!

Right from jump street the carrying capacity of the ring is put to the test…because almost the entire IWC roster is inside of it. And those who couldn’t squeeze in there, idle about the surrounding area.

Everyone is shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, back to back, stomach to stomach…and that includes the commentating trio of Johnny Dollar, Sparkles and Greyson Lovejoy.

And that includes so many bitter adversaries in such close proximity to one another.

We have The Harem standing mere inches from Kathryn Pearson, as well as her mystery masked tag team partner, and Marcus Mayfield AND TPKid….

We have Chase Global and Silverstone Inc. divided only by a set of ropes….

We have Abigail Lindsey within arm’s length of Cassidy Cage….

And yet no one takes advantage of this grand opportunity to get the drop on their respective rivals. Instead everyone….from Lucas Knight and Andre Jordan, to Jessica Lasiewicz and Valentina Madison….to Mya Denton and Cassidy Cage….keep their emotions in check and their focus upon the stage.

Mr. Gaunt: We find ourselves on foreign soil this evening here in Nottingham, England…

Although Mr. Gaunt’s comment was not intended as a cheap pop, the fans still treat it as such. After giving the crowd the chance to get this enthusiasm out of their system, Mr. Gaunt proceeds with his comments from the center of the ring where he’s presently flanked by the massive Legion and the equally as massive Robert.

Mr. Gaunt:…But that is not why we are presently in unfamiliar territory. There has been quite a bit of uncertainty in recent weeks relating to rather any of us are still employed. That ends NOW….

The crowd is not the only one reacting enthusiastically, as almost everyone amassed within the ring and beside it, put their hands together in a very rare display of solidarity.

Mr. Gaunt: We set aside our personal differences tonight in the pursuit of clarity, and one way or another we will have answers. So Sinistry…

The mere mention of this group gets the same type of reaction from the crowd as hearing they have a case of crabs.

Mr. Gaunt:…we, the roster of the IWC, request your presence post-haste. You insisted that we come here tonight to satisfy our curiosities, that time has come…..

Ba’al: Sie sind richtig.

The arrival of Ba’al is met with the same type of reaction from the crowd as hearing that George Lucas is planning a remake…of anything…ever made.

Ba’al: Far be it from us to keep you waiting.

Two individuals accompany the current number one contender to the stage, Jaina Frost carrying her brother’s championship, and Desmond Drake nipping at the Prince of Sin’s heels.

Ba’al: The lot of you have every right to demand answers, for your very livelihoods are dependent upon our announcement this evening….

Individuals such as Katelyn Buehler and Chris Davids do enjoy drawing a steady paycheck.

Ba’al: Well first, I am delighted to confirm that this cesspool of sin known as the IWC is officially CLOSED…

The fans and the roster are unified in their dread, rather it be conveyed verbally or physically. And that dread is only heightened once the mic is lowered to the hand of Desmond.

Drake: Yes, the IWC is closed, but don’t lose hope, because from its ashes a new company arises….A safe haven for uncorrupted souls….A bastille for the enlightened…A sanctuary for the moral and honorable…..A federation designed around the personal beliefs of the Sinistry…..

As the hearts of many lower into the pits of their stomachs, the microphone rises into the grips of Ba’al.

Ba’al: We are speaking of the new wrestling alternative known as the “Sinistry Inspired Network,” or if abbreviations are to your liking…”SIN.”

A collective “huh?”

Ba’al: SIN will be the sole bright spot in a wrestling wasteland. It will shine amidst the ruin and decay of honor. It will be the guiding beacon for those who share the ideologies of the Sinistry, for those who pursue enlightenment, for those who seek purity…At last there will be a home for those who have been persecuted for living a righteous lifestyle. SIN will be their sanctum…SIN will be their salvation…

The NHB Champion stares up into the lights with sheer reverence. That moment of satisfaction is not one that Mr. Gaunt will allow Ba’al to enjoy.

Mr. Gaunt: So allow me the opportunity to TRY and get this straight. The IWC is closing….so that you, and your group of glorified SNL Church Ladies can rebrand it as “SIN?” And you intend to purge the roster of anyone who does not embody your lifestyle and warped perspectives?

Ba’al: For once you have your facts in order, Gaunt.

Mr. Gaunt: In what world do you think you can pull off this hostile takeover without facing opposition? Did you believe that the Black Crusade, and the rest of the IWC roster would allow you to destroy what we have all poured our hearts, souls, blood, sweat and tears into?

Drake: I’m sorry, did you say you’re “SOULS?”

Desmond takes the microphone and a moment to laugh.

Drake: That really is funny, Mr. Gaunt, because you, and not a one of your associates are in possession of a soul.

Ba’al: Furthermore, are you sure that you speak for the entirety of the former IWC’s roster?

Nervous glances are exchanged amidst many at ringside and in the squared circle.

Ba’al: I am fairly certain that there are some amongst you that wish to keep their jobs, yes? That are willing to embrace the mindset of the Sinistry, wash yourself free of degradation, and become a member of the newly formed SIN?

The glances only get more tense.

Lucas Knight: I wouldn’t count on it Tammy Faye Baker.

The majority of Chase Global parts so that Lucas Knight can step through them and speak up on their collective behalf.

Knight: Not everyone is so easily brainwashed as your group of minions. The Black Crusade isn’t going to fall in line, and neither is Chase Global…

Adam Chase, Leviticus, and Kyle Black proudly clap, but Alana Starr’s reaction is a bit more exaggerated, pressing her lips to Knight’s cheek.

Ba’al: Lucas, we are not surprised to hear you speak out of turn against the Sinistry. Your past with the Frost family is a very storied one.

Drake: Nor are we exactly stunned to hear the Black Crusade bellyache.

Ba’al: However, we do not hold grudges, for wrath is a sin. Which is why we are willing to give Chase Global and the Black Crusade a final opportunity to see the light and retain their jobs. Yes, in spite of our past differences, we are granting you a chance to earn a position in SIN.

Drake: But it will be trial by fire….If you want to keep your jobs, you have to FIGHT for them tonight.

Ba’al: We have set up a series of matches this evening which will put Chase Global versus the Black Crusade and their loyal supporters….

Katelyn Buehler, P Clarence Whitman III, and Robert find the hairs on the back of their necks standing on end.

Ba’al: Each match will feature a different stipulation that will prove you are worthy of the bloated contracts you have thus far enjoyed. And it will help to highlight SIN’s upcoming pay-per-view, Extreme Fury.

Drake: The free ride is over ladies and gentlemen…

Ba’al: You will no longer be allowed to coast by and live a life of debauchery. If you wish to be included into the roster of SIN, and do not want to scrape together your precious few pennies to afford the narcotics you shoot into your veins or inhale into your lungs, you will clean up your act, and you will properly apply yourselves.

Drake: Oh, and might I add….we not only hold no grudges, but we also show no favoritism. If we’re giving the Black Crusade and Chase Global opportunities to earn their contracts tonight, then we’re also going to extend the same courtesy to anyone who might feel obliged to help us test the resolve of Chase Global and the Black Crusade…this….very….moment.

The solidarity is over.

Tensions escalate with Lucas turning his eyes in circles, overlooking all those amassed around him, waiting to see if anyone is going to jump at this opportunity.

Mr. Gaunt and Legion are in the same level of suspense, examining the body language of those inside and outside of the ring.

Just as it seems that there will be no takers….Legion finds himself clubbed from behind by Porno Lad. Before Legion nor the crowd can react, Polly, Kordy and BMW of the Harem are jumping all over Mr. Gaunt, subjecting him to forearms, kicks, hair pulls, whatever is necessary.

The sight of these jackals leaping on prone prey brings grins to the faces of Ba’al, Jaina, and Desmond. And although they have a terrific view they turn their backs on it and head to the backstage area.

Said chaos only escalates as Buehler and Whitman are pulled into the heart of this fight, rushing to the aid of the Black Crusade. They are the first to go after the Harem, yet they will not be the last. It doesn’t take long for Mark and Sophie O’Brian of Total War to leap from ringside into the thick of action, going right after the Tag Team Champions….TPKid follows the trend, focusing his assault on Porno Lad.

Knight is so fixated on this brawl breaking out mere inches away that he doesn’t notice Valentina Madison swooping in from beside him until it’s too late to block the forearm that cracks him in the cheek.

Madison only has a chance to deliver a single shot before Alana avenges her man. A shoulder rams into Valentina’s ribs, Starr powering her back first into the turnbuckle and knocking all the oxygen out of her lungs. The strike to the skull has Knight addled, but nowhere near as badly as when subjected to forearms from Cassidy Cage.

And Alana, she doesn’t fair any better, as Abigail picks her spot and picks it wisely. A handful of the good girl’s hair is snatched and she’s about to have a real bad time, being spun around into a skull rattling forearm by Lindsey.

Now its Cassidy who picks her spot, that spot being the ‘x’ between Lindsey’s shoulder blades. She nails a double axehandle that drops Abi to her knees.

With gusto Kyle Black and Leviticus lend aid to Alana, jumping on Abigail and Cassidy like cats on Meow Mix. Though the peril of Chase Global is exacerbated when Andre Jordan finds his way into the ring, and his fists find their way into the face of Lucas.

Knight retaliates, the two going back and forth with a barrage of blows.

Speaking of blows, Jessica Lasiewicz begins to deliver a series of them right to the cheek of Valentina, after first leaving her feet to deliver a flying forearm on Madison in the corner.

It looks like Jessica is having so much fun that Jackson Adams and Silverwolf just HAVE to join in, scrambling into the ring and across it to help their Apocalypse cohort. But unfortunately they bump into Leviticus and Black in the process, prompting the two to mistake their intent. They spin around and immediately exchange fists with the Apocalypse members, which draws Marie Jones into the action in order to help her friends.

Finally Gavin Taylor has seen enough…racing…racing to the….well…not to the aid of Chase Global…but into a forearm cracking the back of Andre’s head.

It doesn’t take long for everyone to enter the ring, and enter into this cluster. Bodies are being thrown around….fists are being flung….kicks are being delivered…It’s just all out insanity…Insanity that has the crowd in their own fits of hysterics.

Those who fired the first shot to create this riot….pun intended….the Harem…have slid from the ring with Porno Lad gathering his forces on the ramp, backing them away from the chaos.

The Harem isn’t the only group distancing themselves from the madness….

The Blacklist doesn’t just distance themselves, but they silently weigh in on the carnage….

From the rafters, Mika Kozlov, Lukas Montgomery, Aaron Harrison and Spencer Klein watch and offer a collective shaking of their heads.

If the Sinistry were capable of laughter they would no doubt be hamming it up at the moment. Everything has been positively hunky dory, coming up smelling like roses….if they enjoy the aroma of roses that is…who knows if they’re actually capable of enjoying anything. Well, the twitching of Ba’al’s cheeks as he restrains his grin might just imply that he found a modicum of glee in the misfortune of the IWC roster.

Desmond: Could this possibly have gone any better?

Ba’al: Oh yes….it could…and it shall.

These words are directed at the pint-sized President presently following Ba’al and Jaina through the backstage corridor, but the Prince of Sin’s eyes never divert towards Drake. Why? Because Ba’al’s pupils are ever fixed on the shimmering piece of gold moving towards him, carried along upon the shoulder of Taylor Chase.

Silas Mason: What is dis horse-shit!?!

The harsh tone of Silas’ voice is enough to covey his indignation despite the majority of his expression being hidden behind his Stetson and his sunglasses.

Taylor: Silas…let me…

She TRIES to speak up from behind Silas and from between Kelcey Wallace and Scott Cannon….emphasis on TRIES.

Silas: No-no-no, Doll-Baby, lemme handle this.

One of his gloved hands reaches back and lightly pats Taylor on the shoulder in a feeble attempt to calm her unsteady nerves.

Ba’al: I detect a note of hostility. I take it that the three of you are none too receptive to the formation of SIN?

So much for those tamed nerves.

Taylor: What gives you two the right…?

Now it’s Kelcey’s and Scott’s hands that grip Chase’s shoulders, restraining her.

Silas: Wha’ Tay is tryin’ to say is that this whole SIN brouhaha is a miscarriage of justice. She’s been a fightin’ champion, and she won’t have all dat count for nuttin’ cause you and ya group of hawt choir chicks decide to shut down the federation.

Ba’al: Rest easy, Mr. Mason, for Taylor Chase’s World Title reign will not end under such circumstances.

Silas: Well then, I’m glad to hear that.

Ba’al: Because SIN needs a Word Championship and more importantly, a FITTING World Champion.

Silas: Good….

Mason believes all that needed to be said has been said, turning to direct Silas World to leave, but they get nowhere.

Ba’al: However, that champion will NOT be Taylor Chase….

Mason spins right back around, while Kelcey and Scott have a harder time keeping Taylor docile.

Ba’al: Tonight that FITTING Champion will be crowned, because Taylor will defend the World Heavyweight Championship against the RIGHTFUL number one contender….

Drake: The Prince of Sin himself, Ba’al.

There are three chairs…studio chairs….assembled in an office…..but only one of them is occupied. Axl Evermore is planted in the centermost seat and is presently testing the tiny microphone pinned to his lapel. It appears he is about to conduct a sit-down interview, but it won’t be with one individual, it’ll be with two.

BEFORE THE BREAK

The chaotic opening to Riot is properly highlighted, commencing with the announcement of SIN, and the subsequent brawl amidst the entire roster as they position themselves for spots in this new federation. The commentators’ voices at last provide their own twisted views of the previous proceedings, rather that is a good or a bad thing will be decided once Sparkle’s mouth is opened.

Sparkles: Holy tits on a bull……

It’s a bad thing.

Sparkles: What a start to tonight’s IW….SIN.

Dollar: You ain’t blowing smoke up our collective asses, Sparkles…it was a twisted series of events to open Riot….I guess we can still call our show that….

Greyson: It was announced that the Sinistry and Desmond Drake have closed the IWC, and now SIN will take its place….

Dollar: And to exacerbate matters a huge brawl then took place as Sinistry had the entire roster target Chase Global and Black Crusade if they want to earn a spot in their new organization.

The Harem jumped at the opportunity to do just that, assaulting Legion and Leeland Gaunt….while Valentina Madison took advantage of this lucrative Sinistry proposition to assault Lucas Knight. And if it hadn’t been for the security force led by Arnie Ficklebottom, the violence would have only escalated from there.

Dollar: We were consumed by total and complete anarchy.

Sparkles: But it took just one bicep flex from me to get everyone to calm down.

Dollar: Well that and about a hundred security guards.

Greyson: It was definitely a chaotic start to our show…or I guess we can now call it…Sinistry’s show.

Susie: Hey there Oscar the Grouch.

Thankfully cooler heads and the heavy influence of security have managed to douse the explosive situation that unfolded before the break. Unfortunately though, no amount of security guards could bring an end to the odd occurrences yet to transpire, including the presence of Susie Moore hovering over the announce table. But this is clearly not the beloved Susie of yesteryear. Gone is her blonde hair, and her eggshell skin….replaced with raven black locks and pale flesh.

Suise: I’m here to inform you Jim Henson rejects that your no longer needed here at ringside. SIN already HAS a commentator, and her name is Susie Moore.

Sparkles: Someone translate that for me.

Greyson: I think it was pretty clear.

Sparkles: Yeah, but I wasn’t listening, my eyes were too focused on Susie’s boobs.

Greyson: I believe we’re being told to leave.

Sparkles: WHAT? But I have a whole stash of porn hidden under the table.

In spite of this revelation, Sparkles and Greyson still take the walk of shame…well in Sparkles’ case, it’s more like the carry of shame, considering Lovejoy whisks him away from the announce table. Their seats are vacated so that Susie Moore can occupy one. A brown burlap sack is dropped from her hands to the table’s surface while picking up her head-set.

Susie: Ah, it feels so good to be home.

Dollar: Ummmm, Susie….

Johnny is noticeably aghast at Moore’s radical transformation.

Dollar:…..forgive my impertinence, but uh, what happened to you?

Susie: I found enlightenment Johnathan.

Dollar: Enlightenment?

Susie: Yes, I have been indoctrinated into the Sinistry philosophy….My mind has been opened to their lifestyle.

Dollar: So in other words, you were brainwashed?

Susie: Careful with your phrasing, Johnathan. For your contract is just as in flux as everyone else’s on this roster. You TOO must prove your worth to SIN.

Dollar: Who says I even want to be part of this organization? Not like I need the money.

Susie: I warn you again….tread lightly.

KYLE BLACK VS. KATELYN BUEHLER

This emotional roller coaster is just about to go over the first big hill thanks to the tunes of ”Satisfied.” The crowd might not throw their hands in the air, but they do scream like they just don’t care as Katelyn Buehler makes her way to the stage. She turns in a circle and then caps it off by flinging her forearm into her palm, symbolizing her KTFO finishing move.

Dollar: Okay, let’s TRY to get back to WRESTLING here, be it under the IWC or ‘SIN’ banner. We’re scheduled to have our first match of the evening pitting Chase Global versus the Black Crusade and their associates as Katelyn Buehler takes on Kyle Black….

Susie: With an opportunity to prove their worth to the Sinistry.

Dollar: DEFINITELY a twisted situation as Buehler is forced to fight in a match where she doesn’t even know the stipulation.

Instead of exuding fear or tension, Buehler actually welcomes the attempts of the Sinistry to tamper yet again with her career. She’s ready for anything they might throw at her tonight, and the same can be said for Kyle Black. As his intro track filters through the speakers, Black and Adam Chase stroll through the curtains, embarking towards the ring. Black isn’t looking that happy to be competing in this confrontation, nor is he exactly thrilled by recent events between himself and Gavin Taylor.

Susie: Kyle Black, here is a man who unlike Katelyn, could be a good fit in SIN. He is after-all, a good person.

Dollar: Seriously?

Susie: Yes, he did return a stolen championship to its rightful owner.

Dollar: Only to avoid a costly lawsuit being filed against Chase Global. There’s always some form of ulterior motives behind everything these “Good People” do.

Much like Katelyn, Kyle tries to get himself mentally prepared for whatever curve ball is thrown out of left field by the Sinistry.

Rachel Foxx: Katie….OOOOOH Katie…..

All that mental preparation on behalf of both athletes is thrown in a bin of dirty diapers, when the Suicide Queen occupies the stage and her hand is occupied by a microphone.

Rachel:….You don’t look too happy to see me.

Buehler isn’t….her face twisted into an expression of malice.

Rachel: But wait….didn’t you….didn’t you just last week do what you do best, and cry…and cry…and cry about wanting another opportunity to face me? I guess that was just another of your lies?

Buehler’s knuckles clinch a little tighter.

Rachel: Like the one you tell these people about redemption. That is one lie you will be called out on here tonight. Because I’m here to announce that your match against Kyle Black, is now contested under First Blood Rules. Let’s see if you can redeem yourself after your disastrous performance last week.

Dollar: Oh no….seriously? Katelyn to compete in ANOTHER First Blood bout? We all know how the last First Blood match ended.

Susie: Remind me.

Dollar: It just happened last week.

Susie: Yes, but I relish in hearing how our Queen, and her subordinates embarrassed Buehler.

Dollar: What in the hell did the Sinistry do to you, Susie?

Katelyn is so busy shouting at the departing Rachel Foxx that she doesn’t even see Kyle rushing in from behind, exposing her upper back to a damage double axehandle.

Dollar: And Kyle taking advantage of Katelyn’s distraction.

Susie: Wise.

Dollar: It’s disgusting is what it is.

The blow to the spine sends Buehler stumbling into the ropes, ricocheting off chest first and backing into the waiting arms of her opponent. Kyle snatches her around the waist and then snaps over into a back drop driver planting the back of Buehler’s head awkwardly into the canvas.

The more awkward the landing the more awkward the smile….the smile laid across Adam Chase’s face like railroad track.

That grin only grows when Black takes Buehler around the neck, pulls her up into a side headlock then charges her towards the ropes. Katelyn’s face is wedged against the top cable, grinding her flesh across it. Kyle runs her scalp the entire length of the rope before ending with a punctuation by means of slamming her face off the top turnbuckle pad.

Dollar: Kyle instantly going for blood.

Susie: One way or another it will pour…..it will seep..it will gush from Katelyn’s drugged body.

Dollar SUSIE!

Susie: Quit calling me that, I much prefer to be called Suzanne.

Dollar: Seriously?

Suzanne: I don’t believe I stuttered.

Katelyn doesn’t stutter, she staggers, right back to the center of the ring where Kyle takes her around the neck. He places her in a cravat then rushes across the ring and drops just shy of the turnbuckle, dragging Buehler’s face into the middle corner pad, employing her skull as a makeshift battering ram.

If grinding her flesh against the ropes didn’t complete the task perhaps this latest move will.

Referee Ingelson is right in position, coming as close to Buehler’s scalp as he can without getting a rape whistle blown in his face. After closely scrutinizing Katelyn’s wounds, he confirms that she has not been busted open as of yet. So Kyle climbs the nearest turnbuckle, getting to the middle rope and waiting….not for very long.

Katelyn gets to her feet just as Black comes flying out of the corner into a double axehandle against her targeted forehead. It connects, putting Katelyn right back down to the canvas, but has it put a gash in her forehead? NOPE!

Dollar: Still no blood coming out of Buehler.

Suzanne: Give it time, give it time.

No, the double axhandle didn’t draw blood but perhaps the trashcan being slid into the ring by Chase will complete the task. Kyle snatches up the weapon fetched from beneath the squared circle and prepares to put to uses within it.

Suzanne: Nanner-nanner, told ya so.

Dollar: Are you actually gloating that Buehler is going to be busted open?

Suzanne: Gloating? I might just be orgasming.

Katelyn is hurting, and is about to be in even greater pain now that she’s caught in the crosshairs of a can. Kyle rushes across the ring with a swing, the steel traveling right into….nothing but thin air…..Buehler ducks down out of the way and avoids a sure-fire laceration. She not only rolls out of the way but rolls onto her feet.

She uses her feet to carry her into the ropes, ricochet off the cables and leap into the air, Lou Thez Press coming, but Lou Thez Press never materializing. Kyle turns just in time to throw the trashcan with every bit of strength in his massive upper body right into Buehler’s face.

Suzanne: She’s busted…stop the match…stop the match already, it’s over.

Dollar: Wow, you’ve only been out for two minutes and already I hate you more than the old Susie Moore.

Suzanne: I’ll take that as quite the compliment.

The can is warped, but it remains to be seen if Buehler is busted.

The referee is on top of this, stooped over Buehler and overlooking the growing hematoma on her forehead, one that has yet to be lacerated. Yes, surprisingly, Buehler is so stubborn, she can even command her body not to bleed when she wants it too….which would normally suit Kyle just fine as he tends to avoid women during sessions of blood flow…But tonight, he’s all over Buehler.

Already he’s mounted Katelyn’s chest and is raining down right hand after right hand into her forehead, desperately trying to burst that raised flesh on her forehead like it were a pimple.

Chase: Bust her open Kyle, give that face some color.

Black normally has no trouble putting some red in the cheeks of his female targets, but tonight, he just can’t seem to make Buehler’s face red with blood. So he takes her by the hair, leads her along to her knees and uses the laces of his boot to grind across her forehead, tearing at the flesh. Katelyn twists down to the canvas and immediately covers her face, hoping to block the referee’s view should she be bleeding.

That fear is unnecessary, considering her skin remains gash free. This only exacerbates Kyle’s efforts, stepping in and taking Buehler around her neck, leading her up to her feet, grabbing her by the wrist and preparing to pull her into a modification of the Basic Black…a short arm variation aimed precisely at the forehead.

Kyle: Sorry Katelyn…nothing personal….but I’m afraid you just got to BLEED!

Black yanks Buehler into the short arm lariat with such devastating force that it sends his entire body swinging around…primarily because he MISSED his target completely and the momentum now has him turning towards an airborne Katelyn.

She has left her feet and is using her arm to catch Kyle around the neck, not just dragging him down with the KBO, but the KBO into the trashcan that HE brought into the ring. Devastating doesn’t even begin to describe Kyle’s collision with the steel, which leaves him flopping around like grease shooting out of an overheated skillet.

Dollar: Cutter into the trashcan…but has it CUT Kyle open?

Suzanne: Heh, I finally get your jokes…and I also realize just how unfunny they are.

The crowd is spellbound…yes SPELL to the BOUND….at the sight of Black’s face bouncing off the mangled metal.

They grow even more excited when referee Ingelson moves into position, overlooking Kyle and determining rather his head has been punctured..and the answer to that question is….NO.

Although Adam looks like he just shat a brick, he regrets the unnecessary stains in undershorts, now breathing a sigh of relief and swiping his forehead free of sweat. Mainly because Black’s forehead is free of blood, a fact that a paranoid Kyle ensures several times over.

He turns to his stomach and worms his way towards the ropes, but he gives whole new definition to the term ‘squirm,’ when Katelyn swoops in from behind and employs the trashcan to absolutely wear his ass out. She bashes Black repeatedly over his spine with the can, making him thrash more than squirm at this point.

Dollar: And now Katelyn is bashing Kyle with the trashcan….trying her best to pump blood from any portion of his body.

Instead of hitting Black with the can Buehler now situates it in a turnbuckle, wedging it between the top and middle rope. She then turns towards Kyle, takes him around the neck and the back of the head, charges him across the ring and prepares to throw him face first into the steel.

But at the last second Kyle shoves her off, somehow recovering not only in time to save himself, but to inflict punishment on his opponent. Buehler turns and slams back first into the turnbuckle and into the trashcan as well, though the steel does far more damage.

Kyle, who is still not thinking clearly, gathers what few faculties he has left and goes charging at Katelyn, diving at her mid-section only to have Buehler drop out of the way. Just as it seems Kyle’s skull is about to crush the trashcan, he catches himself, grabbing the middle rope and stopping his own momentum.

A smile just begins to form across his face and Adam just begins to sigh with relief at ringside….before that grin is turned into a grimace and that sigh turns to shock…Buehler manages to rush in behind Black and deliver a front dropkick directly to his posterior, the blow launching his face into the trashcan with tremendous force.

Dollar: Black’s head off the steel…his head ramming against the steel again!

Suzanne: From what I’ve heard though, Kyle has a very hard head…

Dollar: I’m pretty sure that’s not in reference to the one on his shoulders, Sus…ZANNE.

Susie: Oh…well then that’s just disgusting.

Shortly after his skull bounces off the steel, Black’s body spirals to the apron. The impact has a swollen mass forming on his scalp at this point, yet it still won’t spout blood. The only thing spouting is Adam, who spouts a mixture of words of encouragement and pleas towards his client.

Adam: You cannot bleed Kyle, you hear me, you are not ALLOWED to bleed.

Kyle: I’m….I’m working on it.

Apparently he’ll have to work harder, because the moment the addled minded Kyle gets to his feet on the apron, Buehler is swooping in in front of him, taking his head into her arm and snapping back into a DDT…One that drops him directly on the apron…..One that drops him directly on the hematoma in his forehead….One that may very well have secured Buehler the victory.

Suzanne: I would suggest you take your Agent’s advice Kyle…keep the blood in your body or else.

Dollar: I don’t think Katelyn has given him any choice in the matter.

The fans and the referee are waiting an eternity to see Kyle at last look up, and when he does, it’s finally revealed that his face is without a single blemish, without a single gash….that it is completely devoid of blood.

Suzanne: Good for you, Kyle, good for you.

Buehler watches from her knees at ringside as the official declares that this match will continue. In spite of her aggravation, Buehler immediately climbs back up onto the apron, takes Kyle around the neck and prepares to subject him to another KBO.

She starts to rush forward in order to deliver that very move only to have Kyle surprise her and surprise everyone, by wedging a shoulder to her spine. It seems he is on the cusp of delivering a suplex that would crack Katelyn’s back on the apron…but now it’s Katelyn who surprises Kyle and surprises everyone. She manages to flip back, float over and land on her feet behind the muscle of the good people. She then employs her speed to counter that muscle. She rushes right at Kyle, who turns in the nick of time, catches her inner thighs against his palms, throws her up into the air and over his head.

Katelyn takes a landing that can only be described as N-A-S-T-Y, as her face collides directly with the top of the exposed turnbuckle post.

Suzanne: It’s over…it’s done!

Dollar: My God that was devastating.

Buehler’s face cracks back off the post she just collided with her and now its her body that goes spiraling out…or to be more accurate, OFF the apron. She comes crashing down right onto the mats looking all but dead to the world.

Dollar: Katelyn thrown right over Black and into that turnbuckle….if she isn’t bleeding….

Suzanne: Oh, she’s bleeding Jonathan, one way or another, she is bleeding.

Dollar: We’re about to find out…cause Katelyn is going to give us a very up close and personal view.

That she is, Buehler is presently crawling towards the announce table, employing it to drag her addled body to its feet. Normally Ingelson would be right there to join Suzanne and Johnny in their up close view, maybe even getting a little closer in order to see if the blood is flowing…But right now he’s too busy reprimanding Kyle for that career risking maneuver he just delivered on Buehler…A move that has Katelyn crouched over the announce table and the burlap sack that Moore brought to the ring with her. A bag that Suzanne is presently reaching into.

Dollar: Surprisingly it doesn’t look like Buehler is bleeding…

After confirming that the official is still busy reprimanding Black, a jar of red liquid is removed from Suzanne’s sack and thrown directly into Katelyn’s face.

Suzanne: You were saying, Jonathan?

Dollar: What the hell Susie? What was that!?! What did you just throw in Buehler’s face?

Suzanne: I have no idea what you’re talking about?

Fluid that bares a very strong resemblance to blood is both cascading down Katelyn’s face and blinding her. In desperation she palms at her burning pupils having no idea that she’s turning her ‘bloodied’ features towards the ring where Ingelson has a clear view. He immediately calls for the bell under the mistaken belief that Kyle’s efforts have resulted in lacerating Buehler.

Dollar: REF, check closer, that’s not…

Suzanne: Silence Jonathan.

The chiming bell doesn’t even come close to matching the volume of the dejected British crowd, now forced to watch Kyle and Adam celebrate this incredibly tainted victory in the middle of the ring.

Dollar: What have you done, Susie?

Suzanne: I have done nothing, congratulations, Kyle, you truly earned your spot in SIN here tonight.

The bell goes on ringing, and the crowd goes on screaming…..all right up until someone brings an end to all the noise….

Gavin: HEY REF! REF!!

Suzanne: What is he doing out here?

The official is not the only one who takes notice of Gavin Taylor dashing around the ring towards the announce table.

Suzanne: Stay away…No….nooooo!!

A tug of war commences over the burlap sack but Gavin manages to tear it away from Susie’s hands. All so that he can remove the contents hidden within, that being a half empty jar of corn syrup.

Gavin: Lookie what I found here.

The jar is raised beneath the bright lights, and beneath the confused eyes of Ingelson.

Kyle: Gavin, bro, seriously, what gives?

Adam: Get out of here Gavin…get out of here NOW!

Gavin: Sorry…UNCLE….I don’t follow YOUR orders.

Taylor isn’t going anywhere, not until he’s made the connection between the liquid in the jar and the liquid dispersed across Katelyn’s face clear as day.

Suzanne: Don’t listen to him Ingelson, he spreads lies.

Ingelson finally notices Buehler standing up and brushing away the corn syrup from her face, revealing that there is no gash beneath it. At that moment Ingelson’s mind is made up and his course of action clear. He turns and shouts towards Thomas Boll.

Suzanne: No…..don’t do it….Thomas….you and Ingelson both will live to regret this. Mark my words.

In spite of all the warnings in the world, Thomas announces the referee’s decision.

Thomas: Lady and gentlefolk, official of match has announce that he overturn decision…Match will restart.

Suzanne: No….blast you…NO!

Dollar: Yes, the right thing truly being done here tonight.

Suzanne is not the only one infuriated by this announcement. Though thousands are screaming and rejoicing, Kyle Black and Adam Chase are not amongst them. They are presently blowing their tops, especially in regards to the man who just cost Kyle this victory. Gavin doesn’t help matters by wearing the mother of all snide grins. He backs around the ring but never takes his eyes off of it, nor the two men who are freaking out inside of it.

Kyle: Do you have any idea..any idea what you’ve just done, Gavin?

Chase: You just spit in the face of your family.

Kyle: You just threw your entire career away…..

Instead of letting Gavin rent any further space in Kyle’s mind, he turns towards Adam and reassures him that this match is still in hand….He then turns and finds that the outcome of this match is not in his clutches….because he’s not holding the jar full of corn syrup…Katelyn is…And she’s swinging it directly into Black’s face. Glass shatters into thousands of fragments as it bursts over Black’s skull and instantly rips the flesh on his face.

Suzanne: NOOOO!

Dollar: That’s right Suzanne, the Sinistry’s plans have just backfired.

Suzanne: I will not stand for this…understood? I will not tolerate this.

Dollar: For the love of God, Susie, sit down already.

No..she will not…she will not have her rage stifled. Suzanne rushes around the announce table and towards the ring, climbing up onto the apron….and that’s as far as she gets…cause here comes ROBERT.

Dollar Robert coming out and making sure “Suzanne” doesn’t interfere in this.

The mere sight of the red haired warrior has Suzanne griped in a panic. She leaps from the apron and takes off into the crowd, Robert hot on her heels, and in pursuit for retribution after what Moore did to him on NewAge.

Dollar: This has GOT to be one of the most bizarre situations I think we’ve ever seen.

Robert continues to follow Suzanne into the crowd while the eyes of referee Ingelson follow the blood that seeps from the gash in Kyle’s forehead. The bell is then called for for a second, and hopefully final time.

Dollar: Kyle busted…busted wide open with that jar the Sinistry tried to use to set up Katelyn….But Buehler turned it to her advantage. Good lord, there were so many moving pieces out here, it’s next to impossible to figure out what the hell is going on.

Katelyn leans heavily against the ropes, suffering the ill-effects of this very hard fought confrontation one that she finally managed to emerge victorious from.

And Kyle is suffering ill-effects as well, resulting from a combination of the jar shattered against his face, and the betrayal of Gavin Taylor. An absolutely irate Kyle falls to his knees on the mats, every muscle in his body tensed, and finger nails tearing into the flesh on his palms, about to open even more lacerations on his body.

Adam: Kyle…relax…you’ll rebound from this…

Kyle: Gavin…

Adam: No, Kyle. Let me get to the bottom of this…

Kyle: Gavin….

Adam: Please Kyle, just calm down….

Kyle: GAVIN…

Adam: Dammit Kyle, no…just no…STOP!

With blood trickling down his cheeks, Kyle marches up the ramp to find the man responsible for putting it there. In spite of all of Chase’s protests, nothing is going to stop Kyle from getting his retribution.

As all of this takes place around the ring, inside of it Katelyn Buehler stands…..or….KNEELS to be more precise…with an arm raised aloft to commemorate this victory.

The run-sheet….yes the IWC does have one, even though it’s never adhered to….for tonight’s telecast is situated on a whiteboard backstage….and is presently being scrutinized…scrutinized by Cassidy Cage. But she doesn’t just stoop there in the gorilla position to scrutinize…she also alters.

Cassidy: Hmmm, here we go, this is going to be so much better.

A marker is employed to jot down the most recent tweak made to tonight’s card.

Cassidy: Awesome!

Her handiwork is observed before Cassidy is skipping off ever so delighted. And “OFF” is the best way to describe her. Especially if she thinks the change she made to this evening’s card will stand. That change being the addition of a match…“Cassidy Cage versus Maxine Moore.”

With a grin that could only be put on his face by the dozens of medications held in his fanny pack, Mark Comeau stands in the gorilla position and glares into the camera before him.

Mark Comeau: Ladies and gentlemen, tonight, I will have a major interview inside of the ring with…..Porno Lad…and the Harem.

Sufficient hype has been built for what should be a major interview to say the least.

Normally the intro tracks of Andre Jordan would get a reaction that Jon Cena would bleed from his vagina to elicit….but tonight, he’s not competing on home turf…No…he’s in the heart of enemy territory. So when his music cues up he gets a response that is anything but what he’s accustomed to. Every single insult one can dream up is hurdled in the direction of the Evolution Champion as he makes his way to the stage, gold shouldered.

Dollar: Looks like we’re being joined by the man who competes against Lucas Knight in one of our main events tonight.

Sparkles: And dayum….these British fans are merciless.

Greyson: They’re treating him like half the IWC roster treats grammar. Oh, and welcome back, Sparkles.

Sparkles: Good thing this seat still smells like Susie’s hot stanky ass!

The Evolution Champion obviously spends little time with fanfare, as it would be doing him NO favors. Instead he slips into the ring, retrieves a microphone and gets straight down to business.

Andre: Wow….Do we have some Lucas Knight fans in attendance here tonight?

There is a roar that goes beyond deafening.

Andre: Guess that’s to be expected considering we’re competing in his home country here to….

Fans: LUCAS…LUCAS….LUCAS!!

The roar is so deafening that Andre actually HAS to stop speaking, as he’s just wasting oxygen. He steps back and instead of responding with anger, he lifts the microphone into the air to better catch the response of the fans.

Andre: Man….

Fans: LUCAS….LUCAS…LUCAS….

The camera pans over the numerous signs in attendance….all representin for Lucas Knight.

Andre: I see how this is going to be….you guys are pretty much gonna….

Fans: LUCAS…LUCAS…LUCAS!!!

Instead of getting agitated with the ever increasing volume of the crowd’s chant, Andre smiles and lets them get it out of their systems. He leans back against one of the turnbuckles and checks his gold Rolex, seeing just how long the crazed British crowd can go.

Sparkles: Face it Dre, you’re on Lucas’ home-turf.

Dollar: What a reaction from the Nottingham fans here tonight.

The crowd continues to chant but Andre isn’t about to wait all night.

Andre: I’m feeling a lack of love here, as if I wasn’t behind the eight ball enough already. Definitely gonna have my work cut out for me, dealing with one of the most talented performers on the “I-W-C” roster, and a pretty rabid crowd too….gah…Seems I’m in for a long night. But hey, I can tolerate some hate, gotten my fair share of it from Chase Global every time I step foot in an “I-W-C” arena or log onto my Twitter account. Everywhere I turn I’m seeing comments from the GOOD PEOPLE, and having to fend off their efforts to cripple my ass. That’ll end right here, and FYI, you guys….(points out over the crowd)….aren’t gonna like how it ends.

The crowd reacts like they’re re-watching the How I Met Your Mother series finale.

Andre: This has been building for too long, I’ve endured too much, for me to just go down in defeat. I’ve waited and waited and waited to put these knucks….(fist raised)….upside Knight’s skull, so I’m gonna take full advantage of this opportunity to ruin Knight’s homecoming.

If the crowd wasn’t hostile before, they’re ready to have a collective stroke at the moment.

Andre: The man has went out of his way to try and make my life miserable….he’s stolen my “friend” Alana…he’s disrespected me….not to mention the shot he gave me last week…(gestures well south of his waistline)….But tonight, it’s MY TURN! This is MY OPPORTUNITY. MY CHANCE to make KNIGHT miserable. Tonight, in front of his friends, in front of his family, in front of his countrymen, something real bad is about to happen to a good person.

Dre would like to say more….LIKE TO….but unfortunately the revving of an engine is amplified over the PA speakers, cutting him off. A car now pulls around the stage, though it’s not just any car…..it’s a Bugatti Veyron…And it’s steered not just by any driver…The doors woosh open and out steps William Mason.

Sparkles: It’s Mason, and my main man is arriving in style here tonight.

Greyson: He’s hardly your main man, Sparkles.

Sparkles: Don’t go hatin’, William and I are always talking.

Greyson: You had literally a ten second conversation with him asking if he’d fund your porn….Sparkle-Tits….and he laughed in your face.

Dollar: Gentlemen…gentlemen PLEASE! Can we focus here? William Mason is cutting off Andre Jordan, and after the runs in they had on NewAge, this could be very VERY implosive.

Implosive? There’s an understatement. This shit is about to get nuclear.

William: So let me get this straight, you THINK Lucas Knight is your number one threat here tonight?

Dre nods towards the man presently waltzing towards the ring with microphone in hand.

William: I think NewAge proved who your greatest threat is…and it’s not the man these snaggle toothed fans worship.

Snaggle toothed? The fans would so love to sink their teeth into Mason and filet the exfoliated flesh from his frame. He continues to be showed in unanimous hate as he climbs the apron and slips through the ropes.

William: Face facts Dre, the only reason you’re standing here with that belt over your shoulder, is because of Danny Darko. If he hadn’t interfered in our match on NewAge, I would be standing here in front of all these cocknies as the Evolution Champion.

Obviously Mason wants to add a huge chunk of gold to his already expensive tailor-made attire.

Andre: Alright, William. I already see where this is headed. So let’s skip with the pretenses, let’s get past that whole ‘insult the champion until he agrees to your challenge’ phase and let’s get right to it. When and where do you want your rematch?

Mason is surprised it was THAT easy….not counting on the fact that Dre has more pressing matters to concentrate on, and is the definition of a fighting champion.

William: Andre, I think you’ve mistaken my intent. I’m not out here to challenge you, I’m here to simply take what’s owed to me. Relinquish the Evolution Championship…

Andre is surprised William is THAT egotistical….not counting on the fact that Mason is sooo full of himself that he actually thinks he can talk Dre into handing over the gold.

Andre: Ya’ think I’m just gonna hand my title to you?

William: No Andre, I KNOW you’re going to hand me that belt. Because you wouldn’t like the alternative, that I can guarantee you.

Andre: You really are a piece of work, William.

William: No, what I am, is a masterpiece….and soon to be champion, that is, if you would stop gabbing and start forking that title over.

Andre: It’s not gonna happen, Mason.

William: Are we really about to do this, Andre? Are you really going to make me take that title by FORCE?

Andre: By all means, Will, if you think you can take it from me….TRY.

Although Jordan is all but calling Mason’s bluff, William’s face twists into a grin.

William: Fine, Jordan. But I don’t think you appreciate that I’m a man of infinite resources….resources extending beyond mere might.

Andre: Meaning?

William: Meaning a man of my wealth is more than capable of acquiring like minded talent, who harbor a grudge towards you and your callous agent.

Andre: Let me rephrase this cause I don’t think your hearing me over the sound of your own ego….MEANING!?!

Meaning THIS……the massive masked brute bearing the number 25 upon his chest, slides into the ring behind Jordan and instantly attempts to fell him by method of a lariat aimed at the back of Andre’s head.

Sparkles: HEY…it’s….it’s….who the hell is that?

Dollar: That’s one of the countless hordes of masked minions Tabitha Silverstone USED to have under her employ! We haven’t seen them in months.

The enormous man identified only by the number sewn unto his shirt, could decapitate Jordan, IF his clothesline had actually connected, but thankfully it doesn’t. Jordan drops the Evolution Championship to the canvas, ducks the inbound bicep of the massive man and then connects with a blow all his own. The moment Twenty-Five spins around he’s nailed to the ribs with a kick, doubling him over and leaving his susceptible to the Opinion Changer. He steps over the back of Tyson’s head, then drives his face down into the canvas by method of a pedigree.

Dollar: OPINION CHAN….hey now….what is Mason doing?

Greyson: Where does he think he’s going with that title belt?

The Evolution Championship wasn’t on the canvas for very long before it finds its way to William’s shoulder and up the ramp. Mason leaves one toy behind, abandoning his Bugatti, so he can play with another, the title belt now in his possession.

Dollar: William is absconding with the Evolution title. This masked cast off of Tabitha Silverstone’s was nothing but a distraction.

Greyson: And why did that guy even help out Mason if he was a former potential client of Silverstone’s?

After putting Twenty-Five down, Andre is on his way up. He goes to grab his belt off the canvas only to find it being carted away by William, who couldn’t possibly walk away anymore casually, like a man taking a stroll through a park. It’s clear that Jordan isn’t about to catch up with Mason, so he instead reaches down, grabs the mask on Twenty Five’s head and tears it off….Ripping away the shroud to reveal the face of Plop once hidden beneath it.

Dollar: Plop? Are you serious? After all this time we find out that Plop was Twenty-Five? Plop…of Piddle and Plop…the same tag team that tried to win a battle royal by removing the top rope so they couldn’t be thrown over it. Yes, THAT Plop.

Greyson: I think the revelation of Plop is slightly less important than the fact that Mason is taking off with the title.

It is…more important to everyone, including Jordan, who’s angered eyes shift to the stage, focused on the man presently holding ANDRE’S Evolution Title aloft. Mason cracks a smile as he celebrates with his stolen property.

Lips pucker towards a mirror…lips now bright red….lips belonging to Kordy….lips that are about to be employed for a poisonous temptation.

BMW: Ya ready to find out who Kathryn’s tag partner is?

Kordy: You’re YABBA-DABBA-DAMN STRAIGHT I am.

Confirms Price, who uses those obnoxiously bright lips to lick her fingers and fix her bangs. Her Harem sisters, Polly and BMW, find their own faces reflected in the mirror beside Kordy’s, but she’s the stand out….She’d have to be with so much make-up applied to her cheeks.

Kordy: Marcus Mayfield, here I come.

Her breasts are pushed up to ensure they stand out even more than the luscious lips on her face.

Three chairs…studio chairs are situated in an office backstage…..and now TWO of them are occupied. One seat has Axl Evermore’s fanny parked in it, and the one just to the right of the interviewer is occupied by General Manager, Frankie Paradise. The third seat, to Evermore’s left, remains empty…but we can all speculate as to who it is reserved for.

EARLIER TONIGHT

The chaos just knows no ends…if the show isn’t commencing with massive cluster-fucks….we’re seeing First Blood matches….Gimmick bouts with attempted sabotages by the Sinistry.

Dollar: Looking like Evermore is about to have a major interview with not only Frankie Paradise but….

Greyson: I think we all know who that third seat is set up.

Sparkles: The reanimated yet still super-hot corpse of Bea Arhur.

Greyson: No, Sparkles just no.

Dollar: That interview still to come here tonight, but earlier this evening we saw the first of several matches pitting the Sinistry’s enemies against one another. It was a First Blood match between Katelyn Buehler and Kyle Black.

The carnage promised in this type of foray definitely delivers. Both athletes try to bloody one another via repeated trashcan shots, but it’s an unfortunate toss into a turnbuckle that proves most devastating to Buehler, and brings her the closest to bleeding. We recap the jar of corn syrup being thrown by Suzanne Moore into Katelyn’s face, trying to set up Katelyn…and the plan works initially….

Dollar: The Sinistry had a plot here tonight to TRY and screw Katelyn Buehler employing my former broadcast colleague in their reprehensible plot.

…The match is ended, only to be shortly thereafter restarted by Ingelson after Gavin Taylor manages to grab the jar from Suzanne and incriminate the commentator.

Dollar: But Gavin Taylor, the former crowned jewel of Chase Global, managed to get the match ruling overturned when he showed that Susie used corn syrup to make it look like Buehler had been busted open.

Things continue to go poorly for the Sinistry AND Chase Global at that point, with Suzanne being chased from the ringside area by Robert, and Kyle being busted open by the corn syrup jar. Katelyn then celebrates this hard fought victory over the intense challenge by Black, and the Sinisry’s sadistic strategy.

Dollar: Katelyn capitalized on the match restart in a major way, picking up the win….Congratulations Bue….ermmm…hold that thought.

Katelyn got away relatively unscathed by the Sinistry, but the same fate will not be shared by Thomas Boll. The highly intimidated ring announcer cowers beneath the trio who stand above him…That trio being Jessica Wilde, Jacob Laymon and Executioner…otherwise known as the Pestilence. Nothing that Thomas utters will stay the hand of Executioner, who snatches a handful of hair and uses it to drag Boll out of his chair.

Dollar: Hey now…come on! Take your hands off of our ring announcer!

No words save Thomas, nor any of his thrashing about, as he’s dragged up the ramp by the bangs of his hair. Executioner does the dragging, Laymon does some kicking, right on the rump of the Ring Announcer, and Jessica Wilde does some sitting, sliding into the chair vacated by Boll. She just doesn’t steal Thomas’ chair, but she also claims his microphone.

Wilde: Sycophants and deviants, the following match is presented to you by SIN, and it is scheduled for one fall….

Dollar: Wait a minute…is….is Jessica Wilde…is she….I mean I know she was the ring announcer before she was abducted by Ba’al months ago….so is she now reclaiming that position?

Ya betcha.

Wilde:….introducing first, the man guilty of gluttony and sloth, weighing in at a metric ton of inhumanity, Robert.

In spite of this distasteful introduction, “Strength of a Thousand Men” plays over the PA system and here comes Robert. The red haired warrior segues his normal pre-match theatrics, not being carried to the ring by his throngs of cloaked supporters. Instead he marches straight down the ramp and rolls in, looking like a truly vengeful force this evening considering the theft of his Mnooseville Charter.

Dollar: I guess Robert never was able to catch up with my former broadcast colleague, Susie Moore, but there’s going to be no running by Robert’s opponent this evening. The issues between he and Gavin Taylor have been well documented over the past few months.

It’s pretty obvious that Robert is riled up….and so too is the man presently making his way down the ramp, that man being Gavin Taylor. It almost appears that Taylor is naked without Adam Chase following behind him, an all too unfamiliar sight. Taylor has shed that excess weight though, getting a tremendous burden off of his shoulders.

Dollar: It really is weird to see Gavin without Adam….but it seems that Taylor is effectively through with Chase Global, given the repeated fist fights with Kyle Black AND the way he cost Black a victory earlier tonight.

Now that Gavin no longer has to worry about doing what’s right for Chase Global, he’s free to do what’s right for him…and presently, what’s right for him, is going right after Robert. He attempts to assault the avenger of the Mnooses, only to be held at bay by official Fitzpatrick.

Dollar: Gavin HAS to be yearning to get his hands on Robert tonight. I mean, Robert DID take the Evolution Championship away from Taylor a few weeks ago, a fact that Gavin will never lose sight of.

No, Gavin does not lose sight of the past transgressions of Robert, but his eyes do divert from the menacing façade of his rival. As does Robert’s, both men turning to the entry way.

Rachel Frost: Well now, ain’t the two of you all riled up?

If they weren’t before, they certainly are now.

The sight of Rachel Frost elicits quite a few reactions, and not a single one of them should be expressed in front of children. Frost absorbs all the hate from her stance on the stage.

Frost: Don’t worry now, I ain’t bout to stop ya’ll from gettin’ ya hands on one another. Nuh-uh, I’m jus’ out here to make this more interesting, by announcin’ the stipulation on this match.

The crowd has a collective trouser twinge of excitement.

Frost: But before I make that announcement….Robert….Darlin…

The monstrous Robert sneers in reaction to his name passing through Frost’s lips.

Frost: I was wundrin if ya could help me understand the scripture in this here charter.

One hand is holding the microphone, and now the other removes the sacred Mnooseville Charter from behind her back. The moment it’s raised aloft, Robert loses all of his senses.

Frost: It’s all a lil confusin’, Darlin’, what with mnoose this, and mnoose that…..maybe ya and I can get together later and ya can translate if for me.

There’s only one thing Robert will translate, not unspecific script into spoken word, but suppressed rage into furious fists.

Frost: But I guess we can do that another time….cause ya got ya’self a HARDCORE match to worry about right now! See ya’ round big boy.

Oh yes, Rachel Frost will be seeing plenty of Robert, that’s a certainty. But what the goliath does not see is the boot presently cracking him directly across his cheek.

ROBERT VS GAVIN TAYLOR

Dollar: We’re underway….Gavin catching a distracted Robert with that boot.

The unexpected strike sends Robert twisting into the ropes, which he falls against back first. He holds himself up, which proves to be a detriment. The position of his opponent allows Gavin to step in, take Robert’s arms and hook them around the top and the middle cables.

Dollar: When it rains it pours. Not only did Rachel Frost have the Mnooseville Charter stolen, but now he’s caught up in the ropes and left at the mercy of a vengeful Gavin Taylor.

The wrath of Taylor takes the forms of several knife edge chops across the blubbery boobs of Robert, coupled with a series of closed fists that rattle the already fat lips of his adversary. Taylor now launches his knee repeatedly into Robert’s ribs, but instead of eliciting anguished groans from his adversary, he hears chuckles.

Robert: Brutalize Robert all you wish, Gavin, but you will never quell the passions of the Mnooses.

This is put to the test by Taylor..but not by means of his fists. Instead a kendo-stick will prove very instrumental in this department. Gavin retrieves the weapon from beneath the squared circle and then rolls back inside with it. A pre-emptive cringe overtakes the faces of all those gathered in the stands as they prepare to watch the cane smash into Robert’s flesh….and that’s exactly what it does.

Dollar: Gavin is caning Robert…They really need to BAN that weapon.

At first the cane is aimed and driven into Robert’s ribs but then it works its way up to Robert’s shoulder before ultimately connecting with Robert’s forehead. The incredibly stiff strike echoes through the building and through Robert’s skull, but it still won’t stop the chuckles of the menacing man of red mane.

Robert: You will not overcome the power of the Mnooses!

ANOTHER shot from the cane might.

The staff connects devastatingly with Robert’s forehead and causes his legs to lose all feeling. They buckle beneath him, causing his arms to be the only thing that keeps him upright. Official Fitzpatrick, who entered the squared circle during Frost’s match announcement, can do nothing but watch thanks to THAT match announcement.

Gavin continues to take liberties with the Hardcore rules, wedging a cane directly to Robert’s throat and leaning into it.

Gavin: You took my championship….MY CHAMPIONSHIP…..do you have any appreciation at all for your actions, you friggin TARD?

Gavin drives the cane into the throat with such force that it finally breaks Robert’s arms free from the cables, causing the red haired combatant to collapse unto his massive derriere. Taylor now slides through the ropes and to the apron behind his seated opponent, putting the cane across his throat then leaning back as far as he can. He strangles Robert from an even more damaging and disgusting angle.

Gavin: That Championship meant everything to me….I EARNED IT….

Now Robert’s face is as red as his hair…..both from asphyxiation and from the rage that is building inside of him. He channels all of his aggression, all of his primal instincts into ascending to his feet. Gavin has to put the cane OVER the top rope now and wrap it once more around Robert’s neck. He leans back until he either hears a snap, or hears Robert no longer breathing, whatever comes first.

Instead what Gavin hears though, is the roar….a Robert sized roar. Hands wrap around both ends of the kendo-stick and Robert falls to his knees, flipping Taylor over the top rope and across the canvas with almost a modified snapmare.

Dollar: Robert summoning the strength of a thousand mnooses to escape that strangulation.

Taylor rolls across the canvas and then is sent flying through the air when Robert comes charging in and throws his girth into his opponent’s body. Gavin bounces off the fat and crashes to the ring, rolling back into the ropes. He catches himself against the cables just as Robert rushes in and delivers a clothesline of brutal proportions.

The lariat is so devastating in fact that it sends Taylor flipping completely over and landing across the mats. He just starts to stand up when Robert unleashes a roar from the center of the ring.

Robert: RRRRRRR!

Robert shocks everyone with his log-roll under the ropes and to the outside of the ring…well…shocks everyone BUT Gavin.

Taylor hears his opponent’s battle-cry, giving him time to clear out of the path of the steam rolling Robert…avoiding being flattened.

As a result Robert drops to his knees and Gavin rushes across his feet, right into the shining wiz….nooo….Robert manages to reach out and catch Taylor’s ribs to his massive palms, heaving Gavin into the air and throwing him up into a gorilla press. Gavin then comes crashing down from a tremendous height into the waiting shoulders of his adversary down below. Robert catches him and delivers a Samoan Drop directly across the mats.

Dollar: Nasty doesn’t even begin to describe that landing.

No it doesn’t, there aren’t words strong enough to put into context the brutality of Gavin’s kidneys crushing the mats. And yet Taylor tries to overcome it, crawling into the barricade when Robert comes stepping in, stepping over Gavin’s head and pulling him up into a powerbomb position. He turns towards the barricade, about to slam Gavin’s back into the steel only to have his crafty opponent slide off and land on the mats in front of him.

Gavin drills Robert’s jaw with a forearm out of sheer self-preservation, staggering his massive opponent back a few steps. But Robert collects himself and charges in with a big splash only to hit the very boot that started this match.

Gavin leans back against the barrier and drives both of his boots directly into Robert’s jaw, staggering his red haired adversary.

Once he has Robert discombobulated, Gavin surges with the confidence to carry him into a big lariat only to be caught around the waist. Robert heaves Gavin into the air and then turns and drives him down spine first into the top of the barricade with the side belly to belly suplex, driving Gavin down kidneys first directly into the top edge of the barrier.

Dollar: And Gavin’s back continues to suffer with another devastating slam out here, this time right into the barrier.

The multiple collisions with the steel and the thin protective mats would breakdown any athlete…but not one driven with so much bottled rage. Gavin is about to uncork it, even as he staggers away from the barricade with arms drawn back for a double axehandle. Yet again his spine takes a tremendous amount of punishment though, when Robert takes him around the waist, heaves him up, turns and drives him into the apron with a modified spinebuster style slam.

Robert: The mnooses will not be defiled…not by you, or any other…

His massive mouth opens and his teeth sink into Gavin’s nose, gnawing at it and threatening to bite it off his face.

Dollar: Robert is eating…EATING Gavin’s face with the ease in which he puts away entire hams.

Gavin tries at first to claw Roberts face and tear himself free from this mauling, but it proves ineffective. So Taylor reaches back under the ropes into the ring, trying to find anything that will save him….and that anything happens to be the kindo-stick, one he swings right into Robert’s temple.

Dollar: Ohhh, Gavin found the kendo-stick and it just caused Robert to stop biting away at his exfoliated features.

Indeed, the stick proved effective, detaching Robert’s teeth from Gavin’s face….which allows Gavin’s arms to employ the cane to split his adversary’s skull AGAIN.

The weapon is bent around Robert’s cranium and sends him twisting towards the announce table, falling partially over it. Gavin then takes the weapon, stretches it across his palms then rushes across the mats and drives the staff square into the back of Robert’s head. The stiff collision sends Robert flipping up and over the announce table, rolling across it and eventually spilling to the concrete right at Johnny’s feet.

Dollar Holy Jesus, Robert almost crashing right on top of me….I would have been as flat as Gavin’s personality.

Robert’s on the ground and Gavin’s on the announce table. He stands on its surface and throws his arms out to his sides, getting quite the interesting reaction…a smattering of both cheers and boos.

Dollar: Okay, you did your showboating, now get off my table.

Gavin does get off the table…or more accurately he FLIES off the announce table towards Robert, who is standing with the aid of a rolling chair….Said rolling chair proves even more beneficial for Robert, who pulls it into the way of Taylor, causing him to land feet first on top of it.

Just as the crowd and Gavin react to this dazzling acrobatic display, their tune is drastically altered when Robert uses his strength to push the chair across the concrete and drive it into the barricade…Well…not the chair….but Gavin’s back. He held onto the chair all the way up until he reached the barricade and slammed against it, ultimately causing him to flip over it and into the crowd.

Dollar: I’ve never seen my chair used like that before. I mean, sure I’ve seen Susie use the chair to spin in circles until she threw up….but I’ve never seen it used as a weapon like this.

Surprised doesn’t even begin to describe the man presently crawling through the crowd and across the barren concrete beneath him. But he is even more surprised by the pain that surges through his lower back once the rolling chair is thrown over the barricade, he himself just flew over and directly into his kidneys.

Dollar: Okay, just keep the damn chair….it’s not anyone else is using it.

Robert is feeding off the emotion of the fans, and off the power imbued within him by the mnooses. It prompts him to start over the barricade, methodically stalking his opposition. But there’s nothing methodical about what Gavin does. He collects himself, rushes across the concrete, leaps onto that leather chair mounted on rollers and actually rides it…rides it right along into a clothesline that connects with Robert’s throat, knocking both men back over the barricade into the ringside area.

Dollar: YAAAAH!

The crowd is equally as spastic with their reaction at the sight of the commentator’s chair being put to some creative uses tonight. Gavin stands up with the aid of the announce table and then tears off the protective wooden panel that shields the monitors. He throws it down right on top of Robert….smacking him directly in the back.

Dollar: God…these two really are using everything that isn’t nailed down to hurt one another….which is what you tend to expect in hardcore matches such as these.

The announce table is once again employed at this point by Gavin, who climbs up onto its surface, balances himself then flies off….or more accurately….FLIPS OFF. He connects with a plancha directly to Robert’s chest, knocking both men down to the mats.

Taylor….compelled by an undying need for revenge….grabs that protective panel he ripped of the announce table and throws it down on top of Robert a second time. This is followed up by Gavin leaping to the apron and then lunging off into a double stomp, one that connects directly to the hardened panel, crushing Robert beneath.

Dollar: Gavin taking to the air again to do damage to Robert…this time via a gruesome Double Stomp from the apron.

After delivering the double stomp, Gavin prepares to deliver something else that is somehow even more devastating.

He drags Robert to his feet but then causes him to leave them as he rolls the leviathan into the ring. Obviously Taylor is a bit more sluggish, the highly physical nature of this match taking its toll on him. But he still has the wherewithal to grab the kendo-stick from ringside and prepare to employ it to absolutely devastating results. He slides into the ring and approaches the laid out Robert, who sits spread eagled on the canvas….testicles unfortunately exposed to what promises to be a castrating blow.

Gavin: There’s going to be no more mnooses in your parsley patch….bitch!

Dollar: Don’t take this too far Gavin…don’t take this too far!

The cane slowly draws back and is about to make sure Robert can never have another night of self pleasuring. He swings..that is to say…ROBERT swings…his boot right up from the canvas and right into Gavin’s balls!

Balls that may have just now become Gavin’s new tonsils.

Dollar: Robert saves his baby maker by crushing Gavin’s!

Taylor can’t cry out, so the male fans in attendance do it for him, feeling sympathy pains.

Robert will not sympathize with Gavin though, standing up and then pushing Taylor backwards into the ropes. The former Chase Global elitist ricochets from the cables spine first and then comes barreling right back into the waiting clutches of his intense adversary. Robert catching him with a military press into the Samoan…attempted…Slam.

Gavin slips off the palms in the nick of time, lands behind Robert, wedges his hands to his spine and shoves him off into the ropes. Robert turns and bounces off the cables while Gavin bends forward for a big back drop…probably the single most foolish decision he’s ever made. Robert simply stops short of Gavin, turns around and then launches his bum straight up into Taylor’s face. The buns of steel nail Taylor’s skull and sends him flipping almost completely over backwards like he were just launched off a seesaw.

Dollar: First the boot and now the bum….Robert using every inch of his body to do damage.

And now ALL of Robert’s body is about to be used to inflict agony. He rushes across the ring, bounces off the ropes and then throws all his girth into the air, threatening to crush Gavin down below.

Threatening but FAILING…because Taylor rolls out of the way, causing Robert’s body to slam into the canvas instead of slamming into his body. The ring may suffer, but at least Gavin’s internal organs haven’t been transformed into a gelatinous mush…..and speaking of mush….that might be what Robert’s head turns into, should Gavin have his way.

Taylor steps in and takes Robert around the waist, helping him up to his knees then going for the Highlight of the Night….Yes…Taylor is actually going for the Highlight of the Night on a man who shatters scales just by putting his small toe on top of them.

Dollar: What….the hell…..are you thinking, Gavin?

Gavin gives it the ole’ college try, which results in him feeling like he has an old geriatric back…..He reaches for his kidneys and releases Robert in the process…which proves to be incredibly devastating…Those banged up kidneys taking the brunt of said devastation.

Robert swoops in from behind Taylor, wedges his shoulders to Gavin’s back, then heaves him up into a torture rack…one that might snap the mean like a pencil. But Gavin delivers led like right hands to the top of Robert’s head…shots so devastating that they eventually cause Robert to release his opponent.

Taylor slides off the shoulders and now attempts to put his own to good use. He attempts a back slide…..yes….Gavin just won’t learn….refusing to acknowledge the fact that he just doesn’t have the strength to overpower Robert. So he continues to TRY and deliver the backslide only for it to result, predictably, in BAD results for Taylor.

Robert shows why HIS strength is unmatchable, yanking right back on the arms hooked around his own, causing Gavin to flip over his opponent’s head and slam down face first into the canvas.

The features of Taylor snap back off the canvas, and speaking of snapped backs….Robert rushes into the ropes at the laid out Gavin’s side, ricochets off and then leaps into the air with a gigantic splash that connects against Taylor’s spine.

Dollar: An amazing display of strength followed by an amazing display of girth.

The surprisingly quick Robert manages to push Gavin over to his back and crawls over his chest, hooking both legs for the pinfall.

Dollar: The grudge bout coming to a conclusion with one of the biggest, most intense splashes we’ve ever seen from Robert.

Once again Taylor can’t vocalize his pain, so the crowd does it for him….before these very fans change their tunes from anguish to elation…

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Official Fitzpatrick’s hand is descending towards the canvas before the bell chimes a second before it can connect.

Dollar: There we have it…Robert has just…..wait….did Fitzpatrick….did his hand ever hit the canvas for a third time?

No it didn’t….and why? Because the bell chimed before he could…And why did the bell chime?….Because Jessica Wilde is presently standing over it with a hammer in hand and a smile on her face.

Dollar: Ummm…Wilde, you’re just here to offer ring introductions, not ring the bell….and ring the bell too early to boot.

The crowd and the referee wises up to this ‘botched’ bell chiming…but not Robert. He is already on his feet, lifting his arms into the air and celebrating his ‘victory.’ What he doesn’t realize is that he just broke his pinfall attempt over Taylor of his own accord, and that he has not won anything.

Dollar: Wait a minute…Jessica rang the bell and made Robert THINK he won the match. He has no idea that this contest is still going.

A celebrating Robert BELIEVES his job to be done…a lie only embellished by Jessica without microphone raised to her lips at ringside.

Jessica: Perverts and psychopaths, the winner of this match…..ROBERT!

Fitzpatrick disagrees and disagrees adamantly…but it’s not Fitzpatrick that Robert heard..it was Jessica’s deception. So he rolls under the ropes and to the outside of the ring, starting up the ramp in celebration. He has absolutely no idea that Fitzpatrick is in the process of counting him out.

Dollar: Hold on Robert….stop. This match isn’t over. You’re playing right into the Sinistry’s plans, you’re letting yourself be counted out.

Indeed, Robert is completely none the wiser to the fact that he’s being counted out, still under the mistaken belief that he’s already won this match. He has no idea that he’s actually handing the victory to Gavin, who watches from his knees and smiles as he listens to the official render his ten count. He draws nearer and nearer to ten…and the celebrating Robert moves further and further away from the ring.

Kyle: Stop right there, Robert!

The red menace stops, surprised to see his former rival standing on the stage with blood caked across Kyle’s face. In spite of Adam Chase’s protests, his client cuts off Robert with his body and with his words.

Kyle: You’re being counted out you stupid son of a bitch.

Robert looks even more confused.

Kyle: You’re about to let that mean defeat you.

Black points towards the ring where Gavin remains on his knees, but no longer retrains his smile.

Dollar: Kyle…Kyle is cluing Robert into this set-up.

But it’s not because he’s a good person, and this is a good act, no, it’s because he’s using this opportunity to turn the screws on Gavin, which will lead to a very bad act.

Once Robert sees and hears the official make an eight count, Robert hustles towards the ring. He slides in under the ropes just in time to break the ten count and break his own face against Gavin’s shin. The shining wizard connects and puts Robert on his back where he is promptly pinned by Taylor.

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The crestfallen fans suddenly have cause to be less….erm….crestfallen….when they witness Robert’s arm shooting from the canvas in an act of sheer defiance.

Dollar: Robert rushed the ring and rushed right into the All-Star maker, but somehow even that wasn’t enough to put him away.

The crowd is losing its collective shit at the sight of Robert’s kick out and Gavin’s flip out. Taylor rolls away from his rival and slaps the canvas with both hands, wondering what it will take to put Robert away. Maybe Jessica can be of assistance in that problem. Wilde grabs the ring-bell and approaches the squared circle with it.

Dollar: Oh come now, stay away from the ring Jessica, you and the Sinistry have done far too much already.

The bell is obviously destined for the ring, but it makes a brief detour before it can reach the squared circle. Because Jessica lifts the bell into the air and employs it as a shield against the chair swinging towards her face…a chair swung by Katelyn Buehler.

Dollar: BUEHLER paying it forward!

Katelyn aids the menacer of the means in the same capacity as he aided her moments earlier. She keeps the Sinistry and their subordinates from running interference, knocking the bell out of Wilde’s hands, then trying to knock the brains out of Jessica’s head. Katelyn swings the steel at Wilde, who dodges it in the nick of time then takes off scurrying for the hills.

Dollar: And now she’s chasing Wilde out of here….Get her Buehler…get her!

If Wilde wasn’t so fast, that’s exactly what Katelyn would do, but she has trouble keeping up with Jessica as the two rush through the crowd.

As Wilde is chased to the back by Buehler, Gavin races Robert towards the ropes, throwing the massive man through the cables so that his legs are the only thing that supports his girth They are stretched over the middle rope and his head is trapped in the clutches of Taylor, as he sets up for the Cubic Zirconium Cutter.

Dollar: I’m surprised that Gavin is actually able to get Robert up for this.

Robert is just about to suffer a heinous fate before finding salvation in an unlikely form. To the surprise of everyone, Adam and Kyle grab Robert’s ankles and pull him through the ropes to the outside of the ring just before he can be dropped into the cutter.

Dollar: Hey!

Chase and Black save Robert, but only so they can stiff Taylor out of a potential victory. Unfortunately for Chase Global, Robert misreads the situation entirely.

Bob: Bob knew you loved Bob’s mnoosucles.

Yes, at the flip of a switch, Robert has transformed back into his docile, ham devouring, parsley patch loving self. He even goes as far as to remove the multicolored wiggy from his leather pantaloons.

Bob: Bob member of big funny nose man’s Bum-Bum Alliance now?

Chase: Absolutely not. You’re just a means to an end….You’re just here to help us teach a lesson to Gavin…

The only lesson about to be learned is that Chase needs to stay out of Taylor’s business. He learns this the hard way when he’s grabbed by the tie, dragged up to the apron and then pulled into the ring. Taylor forces his agent into the squared circle, knotting up the tie around his fist and using it to hold a horrified Chase.

Chase: No, Gavin stop. Please, I’m only trying to help you.

Gavin: There’s only one way you can help me, by staying out of my life.

Chase: You NEED Chase Global. Don’t you understand that? You can’t succeed without me!

Bob: UNHAND BOB’S HERO!

Bob’s gelatinous frame goes rolling not only under the ropes, but into Gavin’s shins, knocking his legs out from under him. He crashes down square on his face while Bob ends his roll in the middle of the ring. Chase steps back looking quite stunned that Bob actually just saved his hide.

With urgency Adam makes his departure and Kyle makes a move to achieve retribution on Gavin.

Taylor attempts to recover by employing the turnbuckle…however, it’s the turnbuckle that proves to be his undoing. Kyle rushes around the ring, reaches through the ropes and grabs both of Gavin’s wrists, pulling them back so that he’s absolutely defenseless.

Kyle: Now Bob…prove your worth to Chase Global.

Bob knows exactly what is being asked of him…turning his massive backside towards the prone face of Gavin and beginning to back up all the junk in his trunk.

Dollar: This is worse than capital punishment….Bob is about to stink-face Gavin.

The huge rear end of Bob begins to stretch towards Gavin’s face, about to sully Taylor’s face forever, while Chase stands nearby, sullying Taylor’s reputation through insults.

Chase: You think you can exist without Adam Chase? You couldn’t even tie your own shows without me. Without my guidance, without my influence, without my instruction you will be lost!

The words inspire Gavin’s wrath to the extreme that he pulls forward with his arms and pulls Kyle’s face into the turnbuckle post.

Black tried to hold on but it cost him….his nose cracking off the ring post.

But Kyle got off light in comparison to Adam, who is grabbed yet again by his tie and pulled down right between Gavin’s face and the massive rear end of Bob.

Gavin: You’re right, I do need you.

Chase: No…NO!

Bob’s bum engulfs Adam’s face, rubbing his big stinky backside against the big funny nose of the super-agent.

Sparkles: YUCK raised to the power of EWWW.

Dollar: Bob giving Chase a big stinky.

The Nottingham crowd is going nuts at the sight of Chase’s face getting a taste of Bob’s rear-end. Finally Bob realizes something is amiss, spinning around to face the agent who is presently about to throw up.

Bob: No…Bob so sorry Mr. Funny Nose…Bob love Adam with all Bob’s big ham congested heart.

Bob bends down to check on Chase just as Gavin rushes in behind him, catching him around the thigh and managing to get the metric-ton of terror over into the school boy.

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Dollar: Taylor! Taylor capitalizes on the botched big stinky.

Greyson: I can’t believe Gavin just did that to his ‘estranged’ agent.

Gavin quickly scatters from the ring just as Kyle slides in and just as Bob recovers from the pinfall. Unlike Kyke, Bob doesn’t go after Gavin, instead he goes right after Adam, scooping up the gagging Chase’s head and fanning him off as best he can.

Chase: Get your hands off of my you tard!

Kyle stops at the ropes and glares over them at a laughing Gavin making his way up the ramp.

Kyle: This isn’t over, Gavin.

Gavin: No it’s not, because now that I’m free of Chase Global, my night is just beginning.

Amanda Blayze: Hi, I’m just calling to confirm my ticket order.

Clearly Amanda Blayze is quite adept at multitasking, both pacing her locker-room and chatting on her phone in the process.

Amanda: I asked for a front row ticket….

A knock at the door interrupts her telephone conversation.

Amanda: No, I haven’t got a confirmation e-mail yet, that’s WHY I’m calling…

It’s not a knock that interrupts her telephone conversation, it’s the sight of what she finds outside of the door. Lying on the ground at her feet happens to be a hoodie…one with the Dark Legacy insignia woven into the fabric.

Thoughtlessly the conversation ends, Blayze hanging up the phone then stooping forward to snatch up the hoodie….just one of many tools that Brittany employed to manipulate Amanda, and to turn the masses against her.

Amanda: Who left this here?

The question is directed towards a few techs down the corridor.

Amanda: WHO?

The elevation of her tone does nothing to change their answers….which is no answer whatsoever. Their lack of details prompts Blayze to storm back into her room, slamming the door shut behind. Just then a shadow forms over the surface of the door and the hoodie lying on the floor just below it.

A very similar hoodie is worn by the individual lingering outside of Blayze’s dressing room and observing Blayze’s behavior.

In just a few moments Mark Comeau is scheduled to hit the ring and conduct a major interview with perhaps the most controversial figure in all of the IWC….that man being Porno Lad. But before he has the chance to ask some very prodding questions, Mark is fielding some inquires aimed at him….by TPKid.

Mark’s eyes drifting to the baseball bat in TPKid’s hand…TPKid’s eyes drifting to the fanny-pack full of meds around Mark’s waist….both men exchanging hushed whispers. But apparently, they’re not hushed enough, because it’s pretty clear that one man is hearing all of this. The camera is apparently filming the conversation between Kid and Comeau from Porno Lad’s perspective as he watches these two talk from around a corner several feet away. A surprisingly smug smile finds its way across his face as he turns away from the plotting duo and leans back first against a wall.

Porno Lad: Fools…You have to wake up pretty early in the morning to get one over on me…This is why it pays to plan ahead.

An explosion rocks the stage, sending the crowd jumping out of their seats and to their feet in response. Their reaction only gets louder when the curtains open and through them steps the menagerie of talent known as Apocalypse.

Dollar: Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like the rumors can be confirmed, Apocalypse has been formed.

There’s cagey IWC veteran Jackson Adams…the always unpredictable Jessica Lasiewicz…and there’s the massive muscle and equally as massive minded, Aerik Walker. The three are on their way down the ramp and every step they take towards the ring, further hypes the fans. Finally they reach the ring, where Jackson sits on the middle rope and lets the microphone toting Jessica be the first to set foot on canvas.

Lasiewicz: It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it?

Over the ropes steps Silverwolf, who joins his Apocalypse stable-mates in addressing this sea of screaming spectators.

Lasiewicz: For months the Apocalypse has been promised and finally all that hype has paid off.

The microphone moves from Jessica’s hand, to Jackson’s.

Jackson: What you see standing before you right now are three individuals bonded together by a common belief…A fundamental ideology. We believe this company needs change, it needs restructuring….

The docile demeanor of Adams is suddenly shed so that he can shoot straight from the hip.

Jackson: Nah…you know what…let’s put it bluntly. We’re here to burn this mother to the ground!

For some strange reason the crowd seems to LOVE that. And they love the fact that the microphone has been handed to Aerik Walker even more.

Walker: I hate to steal quotes from popular movies, but at the very least I’m referencing Liam Neeson, the baddest son of a bitch on the planet. He said it best, “when a forest grows too wild, a purging fire is inevitable.” And that purging fire couldn’t come any sooner.

Boy howdy is he ever right.

Jackson: Tonight SIN has been established, and we’re all just expected to fall in line with this new world order and be model employees? Not likely.

The microphone hot potato continues.

Lasiewicz: We’re gonna tear SIN apart, and Apocalypse is going to rebuild this federation from the basement to the penthouse.

Jackson: it’s kinda funny. SIN’s Apocalypse, is going to be the IWC’s salvation.

Walker: It’s time we go to war, and to win this battle we have to put boots in the trenches. That’s why we’ve sent out some fillers to certain members of the roster, and we weren’t surprised that we got an answer.

Lasiewicz: We’ve recruited someone to help us clean up this mess….And that man is Dan…

William: You might not want to do that.

Six eyes shift towards one title belt….that being the Evolution Championship draped upon William Mason’s shoulder.

Dollar: Haven’t we seen enough of Mason yet?

Sparkles: My boy Mason is back, yah!

Greyson: For the last time, he is NOT your boy. You guys had a fifteen second conversation about Mason funding your half way house for reforming nymphomaniacs. And he totally blew you off when you insisted on the installation of two way mirrors and hidden cameras.

Mason makes his way down the ramp feeling a little heavier thanks to the addition of Andre’s Evolution Championship. He arrogantly flaunts the title even as he slides into the ring and stands opposed to three individuals who could very well beat him to death with that belt. Luckily, Mason, ever the one to think two steps ahead, opted not to make his way to the ring alone, flanked by two more of Tabitha Silverstone’s FORMER clients, Seventeen and Twelve…identifiable only by the numbers on their chests, and on the fronts of their black masks.

Dollar: Once again, I HAVE to ask…what in the hell are these guys doing with William Mason?

Sparkles: Man has hella deep pockets, yo.

Dollar: For weeks we saw these masked servants doing Tabitha’s biding, and now tonight, they’ve just randomly aligned themselves with Mason? What gives? And to further complicate things, we found out the identity of one of them earlier tonight.

Greyson: The infamous Plop.

Those answers…which make entirely too much sense so shall henceforth be completely ignored…will have to wait for a time and a place that is neither here nor ever.

William: I’m here to talk you all out of making a MASSIVE mistake.

Lasiewicz: Listen here, the only mistake made, was your belief that we wanted any dealings with the likes of you.

William: Easy…

Mason does not exhibit fear…for he’s got some back up….the very back up instrumental in taking out TCWC months ago…remember them?

William:…I’m just trying to talk the three of you out of making the biggest error of your lives. If you let Danny Darko join your ranks, you’re damning yourselves….You’re all but guaranteeing that your movement will fall flat on its ass. Don’t let yourselves be dragged down by Darko. I know from experience just how debilitating an alliance with Danny can be. It took years for my career to rebound after associating with the Care-Bear.

Adams: Hey, maybe he’s got a point.

All three individuals nod their heads much to the disgust of the crowd and the delight of Mason.

Adams: Tell us more, Mason.

William: I’m glad to see you three are willing to listen to reason.

Listen…no…watch….yes.

Jessica, Jackson and Silverwolf valiantly attempt to hide the grins on their faces as Mason talks and Danny Darko sneaks.

Danny stealthily slips in behind Mason, fingers twiddling off to his sides in anticipation of wrapping around William’s throat.

Sparkles: Watch out Mason…watch out.

Dollar: William is so busy gabbing that he doesn’t even see Darko creeping up on him.

Sparkles: And he is one creepy son of a bitch.

William: Darko is only going to undermine everything that you’re trying to accomplish. He offers absolutely nothing. So I would suggest you do whatever everyone else has since Danny’s debut in the IWC, just IGNORE HIM.

Danny is about to make it pretty hard to be ignored.

William: Because he’s not about to help your cause, and he’s not about to get the drop on me either.

Just before Darko can get his hands on Mason, both Twelve and Seventeen spin around and go straight after Danny. At the same time Mason makes a hasty exit from the ring, capitalizing on the distraction of the Apocalypse members as they watch Darko go fist to fists with Mason’s hired thugs.

One of these fists is ducked by Danny, caused Seventeen to stagger forward right into a thrust kick to the jaw by a man who was through watching. Jackson delivers a vicious kick on point to the jaw, sending Seventeen spinning, spinning right into a step up enzugari by Lasiewicz. A shot so stiff it should have rendered Mason’s masked servant out cold, yet he remains on his feet just long enough to turn right around into a devastating Magnum Blitz punch thrown with cheek fracturing force by Walker.

Dollar: Apocalypse takes out another of Mason’s masked callaborators…one of Tabitha Silverstone’s former clients.

All Mason can do is watch from the ramp at this point, ever-so wide eyed as Twelve joins him and employs his own body as a protective shield. William does not lose his stiff upper lip even as he glares over Twelve’s shoulder to the boot that connects with Seventeen’s ribs and the spinning cradle piledriver that follows. Darko drops this twig of a man on his head, and fittingly, may have snapped his neck like it were a twig.

Dollar: And Darko punctuates this beat down via the Last Rites.

He punctuates it with a big old exclamation point…And just because Apocalypse’s dominance wasn’t rubbed in the face of Mason enough, Darko kneels down over the former masked client of Silverstone, then reaches down and removes that very mask to reveal the face of Piddle?

Sparkles: Hey! I remember that guy!

Dollar: You do?

Sparkles: No.

Dollar: That’s Piddle…We haven’t seen him in months? You mean to tell me he was the man behind that Seventeen mask this whole time? Makes sense considering Plop was the man under the number Twenty-Five mask.

Greyson: So many strange and yet entirely irrelevant revelations being made here tonight.

The reveals of Piddle and Plop as two of Silverstone’s former allies is shortly overlooked in favor the fans setting their sights instead on a far more appeasing visual. Twelve was right in the midst of leading William to the safety of the backstage area, Mason only looking back to observe the smile on Darko’s face, when William finds the frown on his own features more pronounced…all thanks to the head of Twelve being introduced directly to Mason’s crotch. William doubles over and howls in pain as Andre Jordan throws the masked servant cranium first into his lower extremities. The shot is so swift, and so painful that Mason loses track of the Evolution Title belt falling from his shoulder to the mats below. It doesn’t stay there long, as Jordan snatches the gold back into his clutches, throws it over his shoulder and damn near moonwalks to the backstage area.

Dollar: JORDAN…Andre Jordan making damn good use of the distraction of Darko and the Apocalypse in order to steal back his Evolution Championship.

Sparkles: I hope Mason is paying these guys in pesos.

William rests on his knees, unable to even stand thanks to the trauma on his crotch. But he can watch, watch with furious eyes as Jordan backs up the ramp and lifts the Evolution title aloft in a single raised arm. This is a view that everyone, including the celebratory Apocalypse seems to enjoy…enjoy immensely.

The backside of Marie Jones provides a wonderful visual, and he’s getting quite the view herself….one provided by the partially divided curtains. She stares through them, observing the debut of Apocalypse…A debut she was not a part of. This thought weighs heavy on her mind as she steps back, turns away from the curtains and unleashes a long, pronounced sigh.

Frankie: Dude, Maggie is the hottest thing walking this earth.

Axl: Really? She’s got funky lips.

Frankie: Come off it. She even manages to make a zombie apocalypse look hot.

Ahem…

Apparently Frankie Paradise and Axl Evermore were biding their time through idle conversation. Their banter ends when the two shift in their studio chairs and stare across the room at the man who has just entered. That man being Orlando Cruze.

Frankie: It’s about damned time.

Orlando: Been waiting for me?

Axl: Have a seat won’t you, Boss?

A hand directs focus to the empty chair to the left of Evermore.

Orlando: Let’s just get this over with.

Orlando takes the seat but never takes his eyes off of Paradise. The distrust is mutual, as Frankie has not blinked even once since Orlando entered the room.

Evermore: Ladies and gentlemen….

Eye contact between Cruze and Paradise remains unbroken.

Evermore: Coming up in just a few moments, I’m going to have an exclusive interview with BOTH Frankie Paradise AND Orlando Cruze.

EARLIER TONIGHT

The violence in and ring continued earlier tonight when Robert and Gavin Taylor collided under Hardcore Rules, and the story outside of the ring was just as intriguing.

Dollar: This WILD edition of IWC….

Sparkles: SIN…John-Boy, SIN!

Dollar:…continues….with Orlando Cruze AND Frankie Paradise about to be interviewed in the same place, at the same time. I can’t believe Evermore managed to get those two together.

Sparkles: Wasn’t easy.

Dollar: And neither was our previous match.

The high-spots, to which there were many, are recapped, such as the employment of the commentator’s chair as a weapon. We see Robert using it as a barrier, Gavin using it as a modified skateboard to ride right along into a lariat on his opponent, and the chair being flung over the barrier right into Taylor’s spine. Eventually the match spills back into the ring where Robert delivers a debilitating splash and goes for a decisive victory. His plans go awry when the bell is prematurely chimed by Jessica Wilde, resulting in Robert mistakenly believing that he won the match. Upon vacating the ring and almost being counted out, Robert learns of the Sinistry’s deceptive tactics, clued into them by Kyle Black of all people.

Dollar: It looked like Robert was going to be manipulated out of a potential victory here tonight, thanks to Jessica Wilde, but then Kyle Black interjected and set Robert straight before he could ALMOST be counted out.

Greyson: Great gooly mooly, the tension between Gavin and Kyle, it’s really escalating ain’t it?

Dollar: Escalating….ESCALATING!?!

Sparkles: Take an Ativan and chill the fuck out Johnny Drama-Queen.

Dollar: This issue between Kyle Black and Gavin Taylor….it’s gone BEYOND escalation.

Sparkles: HEY, speaking of people who need to be chillin’ like a villain.

LEVITICUS VS. MR. HUSH

Apparently mass Ativan need be distributed to not only the commentators but the officials as well. An argument between Stuart Wright and Alex Ingelson seems to be on the verge of breaking out into a fight. Their bickering in the ring resulting from Stuart’s demands that Alex leave it…immediately.

Dollar: Erm…mmmkay, what’s going on now?

Sparkles: Looks like my wing-man, Stuart Wright is telling Ingelson to get his pasty, lily-livered ass out of the ring.

Dollar: Did you just say lily-livered? Who says that anymore?

Sparkles: It’s making a comeback….just like the lights in my sneakers.

As speculated, the honorable Ingelson is being replaced by a man who has absolutely no dignity whatsoever….evidenced by the “SIN” patch on his jersey overlapping the IWC initials.

Dollar: Great….just great. If it wasn’t bad enough that SIN has their own commentator, and their own ring announcer, now they’ve got their own official too….

Greyson: Stuart is drinking the Sinistry cool-aide.

Sparkles: And you need to drink a nice tall glass of shut the fuck up…Don’t go disrespecting my Boy, Stuart.

Disrespect…..that’s precisely what Stuart is showing Ingelson by insisting that his colleague exit the ring so that he can PROPERLY officiate this next match. That bout is about to begin when Leviticus’ entrance track plays over the PA system, and he shakes his ass to the stage. On this occasion the Transformers and Caitlyn are gone, as only a microphone accompanies him to the ring.

Leviticus: HEY YO!

If only Leviticus had a tooth-pick and Chicas to disrespect.

Leviticus: I’m really getting fed up with all you whiner babies trolling the forums of ChaseGlobal.com…complaining about the epic ass kicking I personally gave to Andre Jordan, and some ‘defective’ goods that I’ve been peddling to loyal customers.

Dollar: Giving Leviticus a microphone should be a criminally punishable offence.

Leviticus: Seriously? if one or two Alana Starr plushies filled with asbestos end up in your kids’ bedrooms…and a single Kyle Black beanie on your head mysteriously bursts into flames, does that really give people justification to start throwing around terms like ‘class action lawsuit?’ Overreacting much?

Leviticus continues to air his grievances on his way down the ramp and up the steps into the ring.

Leviticus: I’m sick of hearing it already…and I’m sick of hearing about how I shouldn’t have attacked Andre post-match on NewAge. I actually took it easy on his ugly mug…But I’m not going to take it easy on Mr. Hush tonight. Gavin’s betrayal, and all you fussy twats on Chase Global’s forums, have got me all worked up, and I’m going to take out that frustration on Mr. Hush right now. I’m totally going to picture Taylor’s head on Mr. Hush’s body…just like I picture a face that isn’t disgusting on the body of Angelina Jolie. So bring yourself out here, Mr. Hush, and prepare to be fondled…I mean…BRUTALIZED!

Sparkles: I’m sorry, but Leviticus is about as threatening as the ticklish kitty in the Youtube videos.

Dollar: It doesn’t stop him from trying to intimidate Mr. Hush just before their match.

Apparently Mr. Hush isn’t shaking in his booties…instead he prepares to drive them directly into Leviticus’ backside. Presently those booties carry Mr. Hush through the curtains and down the ramp amidst the blaring tunes of his entrance theme music and with his verbal conduit, Al moving along behind him. The eyes staring out from beneath the slits of Mr. Hush’s mask are not imbued with fear, they are full of inspiration. The motivated Mr. Hush rolls into the ring and prepares to collide with the antagonized Leviticus.

Dollar: Well it’s been an interesting night between Chase Global and the Black Crusade thus far…

Sparkles: It’s been Martin Lawrence on a heat-stroke crazy is what’s it been.

Dollar: And now we’re about to see them involved in the next step in the Sinistry’s campaign of manipulation.

Right now the only steps being taken are Mr. Hush as he steps right up on Leviticus….the two nose to nose, eye to eye….having a positively epic stare-down.

Jacob Laymon: Listen here you bumbling buffoons…..

The former General Manager of Riot materializes on the stage, followed by Executioner, two men with a very troubled history with Mr. Hush. The arrival of the Pestilence members has Mr. Hush spun around, anticipating their potential interference.

Jacob: You two made a mockery of the IWC, but you will NOT do the same here in SIN. You’re going to have to get SERIOUS…and we’re going to see just how serious you are about keeping your jobs.

Serious? The last time either Leviticus or Mr. Hush took anything seriously, George Bush senior was still claiming not to make any new taxes.

Jacob: I know Mr. Hush, that you take everything as a joke….that you wield your popcorn filled trash-bags and subject your opponents to anal based offense like everything is fun and games….but tonight, you had better knuckle down, and get your head in the game. And you can demonstrate just how serious you’re taking this match tonight by removing that mask….

The very mask that Laymon employed to masquerade himself as Hush is being pointed out at this very moment.

Jacob: Remove the mask, Mr. Hush, stop playing around and acting like everything is a joke….show you are ready to take your job seriously….

Mr. Hush isn’t about to do as ordered….he didn’t when Laymon was GM of Riot, and he isn’t now that Jacob is a figurehead of the new SIN.

Jacob: Maybe you didn’t hear me correctly. Executioner, make sure Hush is listening.

The brute and power of the Pestilence descends down the ramp.

Fists clinch and rise, Mr. Hush, about to implement them to fend off the inbound Executioner, but they should have been raised in defense against Leviticus.

The Chase Global member takes instant advantage, rushing up behind Hush, wedging a shoulder to his spine and heaving him up into a back drop suplex…a back drop suplex modified into a back breaker across his elevated knee.

Jacob: Well now…good to see that someone is starting to take things seriously….And you should Leviticus, if you want to make a good impression on SIN’s first telecast and win this Falls Count Anywhere match.

Leviticus is all about impressions…and he leaves a lasting one on Mr. Hush’s back…sitting him up on the canvas then delivering a running punt directly to his kidneys.

Executioner backs up the ramp and joins Laymon on their way through the curtains. Obviously the two never had any intention to actually enter the ring and attempt to remove Mr. Hush’s mask….providing nothing more than a very costly distraction.

How costly?

Leviticus is about to show the world. He takes Mr. Hush around the neck, rolls him to his knees, hooks both arms and then begins to….begins to….GOOD LORD….tickle Mr. Hush under both armpits.

Dollar: NO! Leviticus is….Leviticus is TICKLING Mr. Hush…he’s TICKLING HIM!!!

Sparkles: This might be the most dreaded submission hold I’ve ever seen.

Thankfully the remorseless tickling ends so that Leviticus can twist his opponent around and throw him through the ropes where he comes crashing down ht emats. Mr. Hush barely has time to recover before he’s pounced upon. Leviticus scoops him up and slams him down hard upon the thin matting before dropping into the lateral press.

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That’s all Leviticus gets from this attempted pinfall.

Dollar: We definitely are seeing some more aggression out of Leviticus here tonight…

Sparkles: I accept partial responsibility for this. I have been trolling his forums for weeks talking about how that Chase Global brand toilet paper gave me hepatitis.

Greyson: Sure it was the toilet paper…SUUUUREE.

The aggression from Leviticus continues to be turned up a notch, dragging Mr. Hush to his feet and whipping him directly into the steel steps. Mr. Hush doesn’t slam into the stairs though, instead he turns, drops back on top of the metal and rolls over backwards, landing on his feet on the opposite side of the steps.

A stunned Leviticus then comes rushing in only to have Mr. Hush leap on top of the stairs then leap over his inbound opponent. Leviticus charges under him and crashes knees first into the stairs. A grimace consumes Leviticus’ face as he staggers back away from the stairs and turns around towards Mr. Hush, who is leaning against the turnbuckle post.

Leviticus comes barreling towards him only to have Mr. Hush drop into a baseball slide through the legs. The momentum of the overzealous Leviticus causes him to cream the ring post with his forehead. He shakes his head several times while staggering around on the mats, trying to get his brain to function….but it isn’t being very compliant.

Mr. Hush only exacerbates Leviticus’ issues after the masked man falls into the barricade to support himself.

Apparently Leviticus just hasn’t learned his lesson, rushing across the mats and throwing himself into Mr. Hush like a makeshift cannonball….one that connects with 0% Mr. Hush, and 100% barricade.

Dollar: Leviticus just keeps coming at Mr. Hush, but he keeps missing every single time.

Sparkles: It’s like Mr. Hush has turned into a matador…..which would be the coolest gimmick ever.

Dollar: Yes, cause racial stereotypes are always so much fun.

Sparkles: Ya’ betcha….Wait…is Mr. Hush Spanish?

Dollar: How in the hell would I know that?

After bouncing off the steel, Leviticus rolls to his back and into position for the pinfall. Mr. Hush falls over the chest of his opponent and hooks the far leg.

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2

Unfortunately Hush still hasn’t done enough to put Leviticus away, or more accurately, Leviticus hasn’t done enough to himself to be finished off, launching a shoulder from the mats in the nick of time to prevent a costly defeat.

So Mr. Hush extracts him from the mats and drags Leviticus along up the ramp where he takes his opponent by the arm, drags it between his legs and places him in a pumphandle. He begins to lift on the wrist and repeatedly drive the forearm into Leviticus’ crotch over and over again. Leviticus jumps up and down, screeching in pain with each blow to this testicular region. Mr. Hush finally heaves him up and into a pumphandle slam on the steel though, then hooks the leg once more.

1

Leviticus gets his shoulder up and TRIES to get away but Mr. Hush ain’t about to let it happen any time this millennium brother. He snatches the Marketing Guru of Chase Global around the neck and pulls him into position for the powerbomb. But just before he can deliver the move, those same two Transformers that customarily accompany Leviticus down the ramp make their way to the stage and begin to dance Gungham style.

Try as he may, Mr. Hush cannot help but to be mesmerized by all this flash and pizzazz. This allows Leviticus a chance to punch his golden ticket, standing up and back dropping Mr. Hush through the air, sending him crashing down right on top of the ramp.

Dollar: Leviticus’ colorful Transformers entourage providing a costly distraction for Mr. Hush.

Sparkles: It’s impossible not to be enchanted by their hypnotic dancing.

Leviticus’ aching back complicates things for him, making him impossible to stand back up after he just fell to his knees. So he turns and cries out to his Transformers, who promptly spring into action. Instead of dancing, they now begin carrying. They scoop Leviticus up into their arms and begin to rush him to the backstage area as he drapes a forearm over his eyes, pretending to be faint.

Dollar: Now these two are helping to carry Leviticus out of harm’s way.

Greyson: I wonder where they’re taking Leviticus.

The destination is unknown, but what’s clear are Mr. Hush’s feelings on the matter, as verbalized by Al.

Al: APPREHEND THAT BOIL, THAT PLAGUE SORE, THAT EMBOSSED CURNBUCLE!

Mr. Hush is on it, scrambling to his feet and hurrying along to the backstage area….only to find his opponent well before he had intended to…..and not in the method he had anticipated either. The Transformers come rushing back through the curtains and have Levi heaved into a gorilla press only to throw him from this position into a crossbody on Mr. Hush’s chest, knocking both men down to the stage. Leviticus comes down on top of his opponent with a lateral press.

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2

In spite of his surprise, Mr. Hush manages to get a shoulder from the stage. As a result of this kick out, Leviticus is inspired to get a big more physical. He grabs Mr. Hush around the neck, leads him up to his feet and then into a forearm smash across the cheek. This is followed by an Irish whip towards the Transformers, who interlock hands and attempt a stereo lariat. Mr. Hush ducks their arms though, slipping under and stepping behind. The robotic clad figures spin towards Hush, who immediately unleashes his OWN Gungham dance to the delight of many….mostly the stereotypical wasp males in attendance, who are beyond pleased to see that a white man CAN have rhythm.

The Transformers respect this as well, finding themselves so mesmerized by the gyrations of Mr. Hush that they are inspired to begin their own Gungham dance.

Dollar: This has GOT to be the most God aw….

Sparkles:….AWESOME thing you’ve ever seen, right?

Dollar: Not sure I would say that.

Rumps stop shaking when they start to pulsate with pain instead. The Transformers turn their back on Mr. Hush, who takes advantage by dropping to his knees and delivering a simultaneous double ass punch. The shots send the Transformers lunging into the air and crying out in pain as they have fists rammed into their collective orifices.

Dollar: Mr. Hush takes out both members of Leviticus’ alliance with that double butt punch.

Greyson: Leviticus doesn’t have any back up now.

Sparkles: He’s gonna have to do all his own Gungham Dancing now.

The blows to the backsides incapacitate the Transformers, so now Levi is forced to do things on his own….which evidently he has no trouble with. He rushes across the stage and leaps into a spear to Mr. Hush’s ribs, knocking both men through the curtains and to the backstage area.

Greyson: And now Leviticus and Mr. Hush batting to the back.

Dollar: Who knows where this fight is going to take them.

Sparkles If they battle across the street into the grocery store have them pick me up some Magnum XL condoms.

Greyson: Oh please Sparkles, you could fit your entire body into a Magnum XL.

Sparkles: Of course, that’s what I call protection.

We don’t have to wait long to find out where the fight between Mr. Hush and Leviticus has spilled, cameras cutting to the backstage area. Leviticus is presently staggering Mr. Hush with forearms to the upper back, knocking him through the gorilla position and into the white board that was moments ago drastically altered by Cassidy.

Mr. Hush leans over its surface with his mind finally recognizing that the item he’s turned into his crutch, will serve as the perfect weapon. He makes immediate use of it, spinning around and holding the marker board up in front of the inbound fist of Leviticus. However instead of employing it as a shield, Mr. Hush is using the marker board to show off the latest masterpiece he quickly scribbled across its surface. Leviticus stops cold in his tracks, twisting his head to admire the artwork, or more accurately, to TRY and make sense of it.

Leviticus: Is it a skateboard?

Mr. Hush shakes his head no.

Leviticus: A rocket ship? It’s a rocket ship isn’t it? So gotta be a rocket ship.

Mr. Hush with another head shake.

Leviticus: Is it a skateboard?

Thankfully Al is there to convey Mr. Hush’s thoughts, since a headshake isn’t doing it for him.

Al: It’s Tony Danza, you three-inch fool.

These words delivered from behind Leviticus, creates a distraction that allows Mr. Hush to give his opponent a closer view of the Danza’s face. He swings the marker board directly into Leviticus’ skull, staggering him so. Leviticus is then subjected to a boot to the ribs, taken by the back of the head, charged through the gorilla position with the two spilling into a modified parking area where a giant production truck is positioned.

Dollar: Oh lord no…get security back there now!!

Sparkles: Why?

Dollar: Because Leviticus and Mr. Hush are so incredibly close to our production truck, and absolutely no good can come of that.

The production truck is subjected to the wrath of Mr. Hush and Leviticus, the bald skull of the Chase Global member bouncing off the side of it. He then goes twisting towards the door that just so happens to open at that moment. One of the audio visual geeks opted to make his exit at a very ill advised point. His eyes are buried in a stack of documents and only rise from them when he feels his nuts being cupped. Leviticus takes the tech guy both below and above the belt and employs him as a weapon, throwing him off the top of the small row of steps leading to the door of the production truck, and into Mr. Hush.

Thankfully Hush has deceptive strength and is able to grab the unfortunate lad before tossing him aside. Unfortunately, Mr. Hush can’t catch the door of the production truck that is swung into his face by Leviticus. A large dent is left in the door’s surface and Mr. Hush’s bell has clearly been run, hence why he falls back and takes a seat on the back of the crawling production crewmember.

Leviticus looks to take advantage of the momentary incapacitation of his opponent by getting a breather. He climbs the steps of the production truck and moves inside while Mr. Hush takes a precious moment to gather himself. He then steps into the production truck as well.

Dollar: Oh God PLEASE! Somebody get security back there this instant. The last time Mr. Hush had access to the production truck things went horribly awry.

Sparkles: Hey now, thanks to Mr. Hush we got the world debut of the Wrecking Bob music video. So bite your tongue you louse.

The cameras follow these two warring combatants behind the scenes. Those crammed inside of the production truck react with squeals as Leviticus kicks Mr. Hush to the gut and whips him into one of the panels featuring rows upon rows of seemingly meaningless switches….Or so they SEEMED meaningless. Because the moment Mr. Hush connects with them….

Dollar: What the hell was that!?!

Greyson: Words can’t even begin to describe just how much I don’t want to know the answer to that question.

If you ever wanted proof there was a God, the fact that we’re back to the match is a testament to his divine presence. The skull of the Black Crusade member ricochets off the electrical paneling, sending him staggering into the waiting clutches of Leviticus. Many screeches are heard from the horrified production staff as they watch Levi scoop his adversary into the air and prepare to drive him down onto the floor of the production truck.

Just then Mr. Hush slips over Leviticus’ shoulder though, lands behind his back, wedges his hands to opponent’s spine and shove shim forward right into another panel of switches.

Dollar: NOOOO!

Dollar: For the love of all that is holy…get these two out of the production truck already!!

Dollar: Why? I love Turkish film.

Leviticus’ skull has freshly bounced off the electronics console before it’s subjected to a slap from his adversary. The palm thrust has Leviticus scatter brained, staggering around and TRYING to catch himself before he collapses to the ground. He then falls back against the production truck door when Mr. Hush comes barreling in for a spear….one that is side stepped. The Black Crusade member’s own momentum causes him to go flying through the door and crashing to the concrete floor outside of the trailer.

Dollar: Shoooo…thank God.

Greyson: They’re finally outside of the production truck.

Dollar: Which is for the best….wait…oh no….don’t do it Leviticus….don’t do it…

Obviously the Most Loved Man on the Planet isn’t thinking straight, hence why he’s not following up on Mr. Hush and is instead moving his fingers tentatively towards one of a thousand switches on the production truck. Naturally his hand gravitates towards a switch marked ‘DO NOT TOUCH!’ Some other-worldly force compels Leviticus to ignore that warning and to flip that very switch.

Horrified doesn’t even begin to describe Leviticus’ reaction to the images he just saw playing on the countless rows of monitors in the trailer. All color is zapped from Leviticus’ face and if he had hair it would have turned white.

Sparkles: I think I literally just shat my pants.

Dollar: Do you see why I begged them to stay out of the production truck?

The moment Levi decided to enter the trailer will be one he regrets for years to come. It’ll take several decades of therapy to remove the images of what he just witnessed from his mind. He backs towards the door and then finds it flying open with Mr. Hush reaching in and grabbing him by the shoulder. Leviticus is spun around, placed in a front chancery and then suplexed out of the trailer, over the steps, and onto the concrete a couple feet below.

Dollar: Oh man….a suplex out of the trailer and into the ground!

Sparkles: Mr. Hush may have just broke Leviticus’ ass!

A scarred, both physically and mentally, Leviticus lies on the ground, twitching due to the multiple muscle spasms coursing through his injured body. Mr. Hush is shaken as well, yet manages to somehow crawl into a lateral press, throwing his arm across Leviticus’ chest

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Dollar: Mr. Hush victorious over….

Sparkles: Hold that thought BUCKO!

Dollar: What is Stuart doing!?!

Instead of slapping the concrete for a third time, Stuart’s hands move into a threatening point at Al, who was literally doing nothing but standing back and watching.

Stuart: Back away!

Al wasn’t even anywhere near close to this action.

Stuart: Don’t make me disqualify your masked baboon.

Al: HOW DARE YE, YE LEATHERN-JERKING, CRYSTAL-BUTTON, KNOT-PATED, AGITATOR!

As Stuart conveniently opts to take issue with Al’s presence, a figure takes advantage of this timely distraction. Jacob Laymon puts the boots to the unsuspecting body of Mr. Hush.

Sparkles: It’s the crazed carny folk again.

Greyson: Mr. Hush being assaulted by that Pestilence whack-job, Jacob Laymon.

Laymon heaves Mr. Hush from the ground to his shoulder, charging him face first into the side of the production trailer. Hush’s skull bounces off the steel siding and goes tumbling to the concrete. Laymon then turns towards a recovering and crawling Leviticus.

Laymon: He’s all yours.

A gesture is made towards the sprawled Mr. Hush, and then Laymon’s hands are used to grab Leviticus’ wrist, dragging him onto his laid out opponent.

Laymon: You can thank me….

Leviticus: NO!

Leviticus rips his arm out of Laymon’s clutches then gives him the most menacing of stares.

Leviticus: Levi don’t think so.

Laymon: You idiot….I’m handing you a damned win…

Suddenly a gigantic ass punch lands from Mr. Hush’s fist to the backside of Laymon, launching him forward right into Leviticus’ clutches.

Referee Wright turns away from Al just in time to have Laymon launched right along into him. The official and the former General Manager crash into one another and then crash to the floor.

Dollar: Leviticus and Mr. Hush…they just…they just…worked together?

Greyson: I guess Leviticus does have some nobility after-all.

This rare display of honor doesn’t just surprise Laymon and Wright, who scurry across their backsides, but Mr. Hush, who has just risen from his own backside. He stares right into the face of Leviticus, who only glances towards the masked man, and Hush’s verbal conduit, Al.

Tabitha: You really need to put that thing in a safe.

There’s a reason Jordan pays Tabitha Silverstone’s astronomical agent fees, for advice just like this. There might not be a safe in the dressing room, but there is a door that can bar the entrance of anyone who comes looking for the Evolution Championship over Andre’s shoulder, hence why he’s about to bar himself inside.

Andre: Don’t worry, this belt, it ain’t going nowhere.

The gold is slapped by Jordan, who may be playful at the moment but is going to be all business later tonight.

Tabitha: Yeah-yeah, just get your butt in your dressing room where you can concentrate on your match against Lucas tonight, and NOT on keeping that title safe.

Andre: Alright, MOM.

Tabitha: Don’t you take that tone with me young man.

Andre: Fiiiinnne…

Andre steps into the dressing room but Tabitha isn’t leaving until she hears the lock click into place, ensuring that no one is going to get their hands on her client, or his championship before the main event tonight.

William: Hello, Tabitha.

Maybe Silverstone would have been wise to put herself behind that very same door. Tabitha TRIES to look unintimidated, even as she spins around to find William’s face inches removed from her own…And it’s a face that is twisted into an expression that exudes fear.

Tabitha: Oh…ummm…hello…

William: What’s wrong, Tabitha?

Tabitha: Uhhh….ummm…nothing…

William: Then how come I’m not hearing your pitch? How come I’m not hearing you attempt to lure me over to Silverstone International? In fact, all I seem to hear is fear….fear in your voice? Why is that?

Silverstone doesn’t need to give a response, hence why she doesn’t bother.

William: Are you worried I’m going to try and bust through this door and take back my Championship?

Still no reply.

William: You don’t need to worry about me going after Andre. Because in a few moments, your precious client, is going to come to me.

Now there is a reply from Tabitha, it’s just not a verbal one, as she finds her body shuddering thanks to the two palms resting on her shoulders…the two palms belonging to Twelve. Yet another of the masked clients from her past.

Why is the tune “Stuck in the Middle with You” racing through Axl’s head at the moment?

Oh, that’s right because presently he’s the only one who divides Orlando Cruze from Frankie Paradise. Given the intense stares between President and General Manager, Axl is beginning to question if it was wise to put the two in the same cramped office with only his body serving as a buffer.

Axl: Guys….tonight, we’ve seen what can only be described as a hostile takeover. A coup de’tat if you will…So I’m just gonna get right to it here and ask, what are you two going to do it about it?

Neither man responds, continuing to tensely glare at one another.

Orlando: Takeover? I don’t think so.

Finally Cruze speaks, and when he does, the tone of his voice would be enough to make Lee Marvin shudder in fear.

Orlando: The Sinistry and Desmond Drake, if they think they can get away with this, then they must have been sneaking into the sacramental wine. I’m not about to let the company I fought for, I’ve poured my everything into, be taken over and sent swirling down the drain thanks to this group of twisted misfits.

Frankie: Bro, I’m so glad to hear you say that.

Orlando: Franklin, shut up.

Paradise being quiet? Impossible.

Frankie: What’s with the hostility?

Orlando: This whole ‘attempted’ takeover never would have been possible if it hadn’t been for you, and the Blacklist. You guys have kept me so distracted that I couldn’t see what was going on right under my nose. If I wasn’t so busy defending my wife, and my own life against the Blacklist, I would have been able to stop Sinistry from abducting various members of my staff, and positioning them to pull off this whole coup.

Frankie: Dude, don’t even…

Paradise leans forward in his chair, flashing a rare display of anger…as opposed to the normal flashing he does that has got him in trouble with the short arm of the law.

Frankie: The Blacklist MADE me do their dirty work. They made me do more heavy lifting than when I go to the bathroom to take a piss. And if I didn’t want to end up being savagely mauled by a kendo stick and thrown in an open grave, I had to play along.

Orlando: So your cowardice makes up for all the wrongs you committed while you were the Blacklist’s bitch?

Frankie: Hey, Frankie ain’t NO ONE’S biotch, and I proved that at Invictus. Do you forget, Orlando, that if it wasn’t for me, Aaron Harrison would have went all vehicular manslaughter on your ass?

Orlando: No…nor do I forget you caving to the pressure and making the three count for the Blacklist at the end of that match.

Frankie: Pressure? Da’ fuck? Harrison was holding a mother-luvin fork to my eye….I don’t wear eye patches well, they don’t suit my face. Although, maybe if I put some rhinestones in it. Cause ya know, any occasion calls for rhinestones.

Orlando: Would you stop being a jackass, and for once take things seriously?

Frankie: I think I’ve been pretty damned serious, bro. I was the only one who took the Sinistry seriously at all. Which is why I TRIED to do something about them. And didn’t I totes warn you about letting the Blacklist cloud your judgment?

Orlando: On rare occasions, you do have a point, Franklin. This Blacklist has been all I can think about for months…why? Because I’m not going to be able to do a damned thing about the Sinistry as long as the Blacklist is around.

Frankie actually does fall silent, intrigued by where this is going.

Orlando: This problem with the Blacklist HAS to end before I can take back MY company…

Frankie: OUR company, Orlando. You forget, I’ve got just as much invested in this company as you do.

Orlando: Invested in this company, or in certain members of our roster?

Frankie: I can work my way through feelings for certain champions with lubricant and paper towerls….so let’s not allow past love affairs to make a sticky situation even stickier.

Orlando: Axl..

Wisely Orlando opts to completely ignore that last comment.

Orlando: Tonight, I’M going to do something to remove the black cloud that’s been floating over my head for waaaay too long.

Frankie: No bro…that black cloud has been floating over BOTH of our heads, and tonight, WE…

Orlando: There is no WE Franklin, and there never will be a WE!

Paradise throws arms in the air and falls back in his chair, wondering what it’ll take, if anything, to finally change Cruze’s opinion of him.

Orlando: Axl…

Wisely Orlando opts to completely ignore Frankie’s body language.

Orlando: In a few moments I’m going to that ring, and I’m going to personally challenge Aaron Harrison to a Last Man Standing Match at Extreme Fury. One final match to end this…all of this…so that I can FINALLY put the Blacklist behind me and invest in taking back this fed…

Spencer: Is that right, Cruze?

The toxic tongue of Spencer Klein even manages to poison the office Orlando and Frankie are being interviewed in, hence why the GM and the Pres react like they’ve just been bitten.

Cameras cut to the source of this venom…Spencer Klein located high above the ring in the rafters where he is flanked by his Blacklist family.

And the microphone is extended to one of these family members located on Klein’s right.

Harrison: Orlando…try as we may to convince you, you just won’t accept that this issue between us, it’s over….We all want to move on. Which is why I TRIED to apologize to you last week, which you SHOULD have just accepted. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have ended up being dumped on your head the way you were on NewAge. Actually, take a look back man, it was YOU who attacked us. I was content with letting bygones be bygones, but YOU came after US on NewAge. We were only defending ourselves.

Per request, the microphone is extended to Montgomery.

Montgomery: Orlando…why do you insist on continuing to victimize us? Why do you keep forcing us to let loose our inner monsters just so we can defend ourselves against your repeated attacks and your persecution?

Per request, the microphone finds its way into Mika’s hand.

Mika: Orlando…we just want peace…I have made my peace with my precious Malishka…I’ve gone out of my way to help her and Silas Mason….So why don’t you, Orlando, do the same? Instead of extending a kendo-stick to my Cowboy, why don’t you try reaching to him with an olive branch? Learn from the example set by your wife and I.

Per request….the microphone has made its way back to where it started.

Spencer: Aaron…Lukas…Mika…I’m afraid we have to resign ourselves to the fact that that’s NOT gonna happen. It’s painfully obvious that Orlando is just not going to let us coexist…that he won’t give the Blacklist PEACE. That he’s just going to continue acting like a spoiled brat until he’s been given what he wants.

A collective sigh, followed by a collective headshake.

Spencer: But we’re not about to just hand ANYTHING to you, Orlando. You need to start learning how to trust, you need to start learning how to forgive. Otherwise, the IWC will never be big enough for the Blacklist and your ego. So instead of Harrison accepting your challenge and giving you another lesson in humility, instead, we’re going to give you an even more invaluable lesson here tonight. You want your Last Man Standing match against Aaron Harrison at Extreme Fury? Fine….you’ve got it…

Nuts doesn’t even begin to describe the reaction from the crowd.

Spencer: IF….

Come on…You HAD to know that was coming.

Spencer:…and only IF, Frankie Paradise steps into this ring tonight on YOUR behalf, and defeats a member of the Blacklist.

Oh no he didn’t.

Spencer: Mika…

She perks up.

Spencer: Lukas…

Montgomery’s grin couldn’t be anymore toothy.

Spencer: Aaron…

Harrison tries to smile and tries to perk up, but finds that it hurts to do either.

Spencer: All three of you….I want all three of you at ringside to watch ME face Paradise tonight, and teach both he, and Orlando an important life lesson. A lesson about the power of forgiveness.

Oh yes he did!

Dollar: Spencer Klein versus Frankie Paradise here tonight, one on one?

Greyson: And Orlando HAS to rely on Frankie if he wants this Last Man Standing match.

Dollar: Twisted doesn’t even begin to describe this situation.

Speaking of twisted situations, now that the Blacklist has made their challenge, the time has come for Mark Comeau to make his way down the ramp and produce exactly what he’s been hyping all night long.

Dollar: Seriously Mark, you pick NOW to come out here? You couldn’t even give us ten seconds to catch our breath?

Greyson: Looks like we’re about to get his interview with Porno Lad and the Harem.

Sparkles: You mean to tell me that Mark’s about to be in the ring with Kordy, while I have to be in the middle of this sausage-fest?

Mark slides into the ring, microphone in hand and excited expression on his face.

Comeau: Ladies and gentlemen….the time is almost here…in a matter of moments I WILL Interview Porno Lad And the Harem right here in this ring.

The crowd is ENERGIZED…and their cheers just keep going and going and going…

Taylor Chase paces, but not because she’s anxious…not because she’s worried….it’s because she’s frustrated, nay downright, furious….and to be Frank….or Fred….or whatever you want to be called, she has every right to be. Her mind races with thoughts concerning the closure of the IWC, the rise of SIN, and the potential World Title defense yet to come here tonight.

Kelcey: I can’t wait, Tay.

Yes-yes, Kelcey is there to try and talk her best friend down, but she’s as unsuccessful as Lindsey Lohan when she tries to exit a car without the obligatory crotch shot.

Kelcey: Tonight you finally put all the naysayers and critics to shame….And you get to shut up Ba’al in the process.

No-no, Kelcey’s attempts to soothe Chase are not working, just like a security guard’s requests for Shia Lebouf to exit a Walgreen’s pharmacy.

Kelcey: This is HUGE tonight, no….BEYOND huge.

Taylor: I know that Kelcey, and honestly, I can’t wait to put the belt up against Ba’al, but….but….

The hand of the Perfect Ten finds its way onto the shoulder of Scarlet Socialite.

Kelcey: You’re a wee bit upset about this whole SIN announcement, huh?

Taylor: If I had my choice in the matter, I’d be defending this title under the IWC initials, and not as part of this ridiculous SIN promotion.

Silas: Oh but you do have a choice, Baby-Doll.

The conversation takes a turn….in the worse possible direction when Silas opens his manipulative mouth, and waltzes into the locker-room. And just because his presence wasn’t repugnant enough, Silas is flanked by Scott Cannon.

Silas: Ya ain’t defendin’ nuttin’ here tonight, Tay, be it for IWC, SIN…whatever.

Taylor: Whoa, hold on Silas. I think you misunderstood what I was saying. I DO want to defend the belt….

Silas: What you WANT, and what you NEED are two entirely different things. And you don’t NEED to put that there chunk of gold on the line against Beelzebub here tonight.

The man who places such an emphasis on worldwide domination, puts his palm on the championship that will be his gateway to accomplishing just that.

Silas: Nobody goes messin’ with my clients, and it’s high time that Ba’al learns that.

His other gloved hand rises to reveal the steel chair in his palm….one that is forced into the chest of Cannon.

Silas: Scott…

Scott: Silas….

Silas: Find Ba’al, and let him know that Tay ain’t defendin her title gainst him tonight.

Cannon’s eyes turn to the chair wedged to his chest while a twisted twinkle forms in the corner of his eye, reading between the lines and knowing EXACTLY what is being asked of him.

Katelyn: I said NO and I mean it, Kitty.

The room Katelyn Buehler had taken residency in is now abandoned, and so too is her sister, Kitty.

Kitty: Come on, Sis, lemme help you.

Kitty stops in the doorway, watching Katelyn’s back…literally as opposed to how she wants to do it, figuratively.

Kitty: Ya’ know, I can help you even the odds against Rachel…..Foxx and Frost.

Katelyn: You’re not getting in the middle of this…end of story. I won’t let you get involved.

The Buehler’s part ways, leaving Kitty to stand partially in the hall Katelyn traverses. The youngest of the Buehler sister’s whispers while clutching the crucifix hung about her neck.

<font color=

BEFORE THE BREAK

A few clips capture an announcement of bombshell worthy proportions as Spencer Klein and the Blacklist address the crowd from the rafters.

Dollar: What a major…MAJOR challenge made before we went to commercial.

Sparkles: It was the type of challenge that made my balls descend.

Greyson: Actually that was just me taking my hand out of your bum so I could take another swig of Fresca.

The twisted rhetoric of the Blacklist segues into the challenge decried by Spencer for a one on one match pitting himself against Frankie Paradise.

Dollar: Spencer Klein has demanded to face Frankie here tonight, and the fate of Orlando Cruze ‘Last Man Standing’ challenge to Aaron Harrison for Extreme Fury will be on the line.

Greyson: This all but FORCES Orlando to have to trust Frankie here tonight.

Dollar: But before we get to that, we’ve got Mark Comeau in the ring and he has promised us all an exclusive interview with Porno Lad and the Harem.
990000>Kitty: Too late for that, I already AM involved.

There’s the ring…

There’s Mark Comeau…

There’s that same shit-eating grin on his face….

There’s that tie around his neck with a picture of Princess Diana stenciled upon it….

There’s the Nottingham crowd eagerly anticipating the dialogue between Comeau and the Harem.

Comeau: At Extreme Fury, both Porno Lad and the Harem are involved in two separate but equally as huge matches…so let’s hear their thoughts on these respective bouts shall we?

Thanks to Mark’s words and gesticulations, all attention shifts to the entry way where “Everybody” by the Backstreet Boys is trumpeting the arrival of the Original Prankster. Apparently he and the Harem won’t be making their entrances together though, seeing as Polly, Kordy and BMW, couldn’t squeeze themselves into the protective bulletproof bubble that presently surrounds Porno Lad.

Dollar: What…in the hell….are we looking at here?

Apparently the hate for the Mega-HEEL is universal…knowing no continental jurisdictions. Even here in Nottingham, Lad is being booed out of the building, but not out of the protective bubble. A bulletproof cage occupied by Lad and loaded unto the back of a golf cart being steered towards the ring by BMW.

Dollar: I literally am at a loss for words right now.

Sparkles: It’s a…it’s a…Pornomobile.

Dollar: This has got to be the single most ridiculous thing I have ever seen.

Sparkles: Ridiculous? This is fucking brilliant John Boy.

The golf cart stops at ringside and BMW leans back, crossing her burly arms to ward off anyone who might tamper with her man’s bullet-proof bastille.

Porno Lad: Mwahahaha…the fix is in, Mark!

Even Comeau looks sickened by the visual of Lad in his protective Pornomobile.

Porno Lad: Did you honestly think I would just walk right out here into the middle of a trap set up by you and TPKid? NOT likely…oh sorry…how do the Brits put it…Not BLOODY likely.

Oh how the fans would like to test just how bulletproof Porno Lad’s cage is.

Porno Lad: I’m not going to fall for a trap set up by a man who considers getting his GED to be high education…and another man who thinks high education is smoking reefer while studying economics. NO! Porno Lad is too smart for the both of you. And this protective bubble proves just that. Now go find me Jerry Seinfeld, so he may come to my home and lavish me with jokes…

Mark isn’t going anywhere, and the fans aren’t changing their reaction to this vile sight.

Porno Lad: Face it, Mark, I am invincible, inside this bubble AND outside of this bubble. There is nothing that TPKid can do to touch me. It’s like I’ve said over and over and over again, I am ABOVE him…he is a skidmark in this industry, and I AM this industry….Without my guiding influence, without my resonating star power, without my undeniable talent there wouldn’t be an IWC, there wouldn’t be a SIN, there wouldn’t be wrestling as we know and love it. So thank your Porno Lad kiddies, and then pray…PRAY for TPKID. Because over the past few weeks I’ve managed to destroy his mind, and at Extreme Fury, I’ll finish the job by crippling his body.

Lad continues to chuckle while BMW laughs and laughs and laughs…

Porno Lad: That man humiliated me….He embarrassed me….He took away my perfect Invictus moment. And I’ve only just begun to take away from him in retaliation. Hurting Miss Juicy, taking her away from Nate, that was only the beginning, because I’m going to take so much more when we collide…

The egomaniacal tirade of a jaded Porno Lad only stop when he notices that Miss Juicy is stepping through the curtains.

Porno Lad: And ummm, furthermore, I’m going to…I’m going to…

BMW sticks flexes her biceps and forms a barrier between Miss Juicy and Porno Lad.

Porno Lad: Well isn’t this pathetic…Nate is so humbled by my genius that he can’t bring himself out here to face me? He’s got to send his WOMAN to fight his battle for him? Absolutely sickens me to see a man hiding behind a woman…

Does the word ‘hypocrite’ mean anything to Porno Lad?

Porno Lad: I’m through with you though, Miss Juicy. I’ve broken your ugly face enough to properly incentivize TPKid into walking into the biggest ass kicking of his career at Extreme Fury….So either get your half ton ass cheeks out of here, or BMW is going to insert her boot directly between them.

Miss Juicy, in her protective face-mask, isn’t going anywhere, only moving towards the ring as opposed to away from it.

Porno Lad: Pathetic…Deal with her, BMW.

BMW: Gladly, Big Daddy.

Gag reflex…ACTIVATE.

And BMW’s gag reflex is about to be activated by the fist Miss Juicy rams right down her throat. The two ladies meet on the ramp and begin to exchange shots between one another as they go spiraling through the curtains and to the backstage area. This leaves an amused Porno Lad to turn his focus away from the brutality between the warring ladies, and towards the anxious Comeau in the ring.

Porno Lad: I believe an interview was promised here tonight. So get to it Mar…

TPKid: Nah-nah-nah, Ethan, it’s not Mark who’s conducting this interview, it’s me.

Normally the arrival of TPKid would be cause for Porno Lad to begin plotting his last will and testament, but tonight, the Original Prankster actually laughs in response to this physical threat. Lad even goes a step further, knocking on the glass and then waving through it at his former tag team partner.

Porno Lad: Uhhhh ohhhh, it’s everyone’s favorite Jeff Foxworthy punchline…It’s TPKid. I guess I better start soaking my undershorts, right? Hahahaha….

The laughing trails off when Kid reaches the bubble.

TPKid: Funny, Ethan…HILARIOUS….you’re such a hysterical fella. I damn near laughed my ass off when you promised to ‘cripple me’ at Extreme Fury…but you’re gonna find it pretty damned hard to accomplish that when your teeth are lying on the canvas, and I’m shattering that mug of yours…Everything you’ve done to Miss Juicy, is going to come back to haunt you….Everything you’ve done to me….It’s going to come back to haunt you…Everything you’ve done to these fans, it’s going to come back to haunt you…And I have just the way to make sure that happens. I have a proposition for you Ethan.

Porno Lad: You can kiss the whitest, chubbiest part of my ass, Nate.

TPKid: No thanks, cause I kissed your ass for WAY too damned long…and look where it got us…

Porno Lad: You should feel proud…PROUD that I would ever let you anywhere near me….That I was willing to guide you…that I was willing to make you a STAR!

TPKid: Bullshit…You never wanted to make me anything more than your bitch…But you are right about one thing…I do value some of your guidance, and I’ve learned quite a bit from you. Like how to get what you want….and the only thing I want right now, is to get you inside of a Steel Cage at Extreme Fury.

At first Porno Lad blanches…though that surprise shortly transitions into a burst of laughter.

Porno Lad: Hahahaha….stop…just stop Nate….You’re killing me.

TPKid: Poor choice of words, Ethan.

Porno Lad: You have no bargaining chip here, Nate. There’s nothing you can do to coerce me into facing you inside of a cage. It’s NOT happening.

TPKid: Damn, I guess you got a point. I mean, you are perfectly protected inside of that bulletproof bubble.

TPKid confesses while extracting a chain and lock from his back pocket.

Porno Lad: That’s right.

TPKid: There’s no way for me to get to you.

Porno Lad: Yep, see, I’ve thought of everything.

TPKid: But that also means, there’s no way YOU can escape from ME.

The egotism displayed by Lad suddenly shifts to an expression of worry…and the worry displayed by Lad suddenly shifts to concern when he sees the chain wrapping around the door handles of the bulletproof bubble…and the concern changes to terror when Miss Juicy comes stepping through the curtains, her swollen hands clutching a set of keys…The very keys used to power the Pornomobile.

Porno Lad: Hey…what are you doing? What are you doing!?!

TPKid: How about the two of us take a little joyride, Ethan? Might give you some time to think over my challenge.

Porno Lad: No…no…STOP THAT …security… Polly… Kordy…. BMW…. ALANA!

The rolodex of names are recited, but absolutely no one comes to the aid of Porno Lad, he is completely at the mercy of the man now behind the wheel of the Pornomobile. TPKid slips behind the driver’s seat and powers up the vehicle in spite of Porno Lad’s protests.

TPKid: Let’s open this baby up and see what she can do.

Porno Lad: Don’t you dare…you hear me…I’ll…oooowww!

The Pornomobile speeds forward before TPKid slams on the breaks, launching Lad’s face into the glass wall designed to protect him. He then falls back against the opposite wall, rubbing at his forehead.

TPKid: Man, I probably shouldn’t have drank all that Bass Ale before I got behind the wheel of this thing. Let this be a lesson to ya kids, never drink and drive.

Porno Lad: Someone get me out of this thing…..get me out!!

He bangs on the glass with his fists, but soon it’s his face that is slamming against the bulletproof shield when TPKid speeds up in reverse only to slam hard on the breaks. Finally the Pornomobile takes off into the backstage area with TPKid howling with delight, Porno Lad roaring with anger, and Miss Juicy following along behind laughing as hard as she can.

Dollar: The Pornomobile has backfired, and backfired in a big way on Porno Lad.

Sparkles: Someone contact the authorities. Wait, do they even have police in England? Or do they settle all disputes through games of cricket?

TPKid and Porno Lad have no sooner vanished through the curtains before Comeau is picking up where he left off.

Comeau: Have fun guys. Be careful not to speed….

The Nottingham crowd chuckles along with Comeau.

Comeau: I think it’s time for phase two of our interview. Let’s get the Harem out here shall we? And let’s find out their thoughts on defending their Tag Team Titles against Kathryn Pearson and her mystery partner at Extreme Fury. Come on out now ladies….this is your chance….

At last the entrance theme for the Harem is tearing through the speakers and the curtains are parting for them as well. And here comes the Hare…..wait….it looks like Kordelia Price, she acts like Kordelia Price…but this is clearly NOT Kordelia Price. It’s Kathryn Pearson wearing a Kordelia Price outfit, complete with a fake latex wig over her head to emulate Kordy’s bald scalp. Behind Kathryn’s back, is Polly Norah…wait…it looks like Polly, she acts like Polly….but in actuality, it’s Pearson’s masked mystery partner, dressed in a comically oversized sumo suit.

Dollar: At the risk of sounding repetitious…what…in the hell…is this?

Sparkles: Did Kordy’s boobs suddenly get bigger?

Dollar: That’s clearly Kathryn Pearson and her Mystery Partner dressed as Kordy and Polly.

Greyson: This might be the single greatest thing ever filmed on celluloid.

Laughter can be heard for the two ladies wearing tin foil championship belts to the ring….or so they ATTEMPT to get into the ring. Kathryn begins to slide into the squared circle but stops to dry hump the middle rope in Kordy fashion but then finds her leg snagged on that very rope, causing her to trip and land flat on her ass. After sliding Polly’s marker board into the ring, The Masked Lady tries to roll in herself but can’t get her enormous girth onto the apron or through the cables. Finally it takes Kathryn grabbing her by the wrist and pulling for all she’s worth to at last drag her partner into the squared circle, giant fat suit and all.

Comeau: Well ladies, I’m glad you could join me out here and share your thoughts concerning Extreme Fury….

Kathryn: Shut your big hairy trap, Marky Coo-Boo-Boo…

The Kordy impersonation is spot on, even down to the intonation of her voice.

Kathryn: No one wants to hear you talk, all anyone wants to see…is Kordy TWERK!

The world’s most horrible twerk is seen as Kathryn shakes her ass to the delight and laughter of thousands.

Kathryn: And now they want to see Polly twerk too…twerk Polly….or I’ll reveal your gay crush on Sophie O’Brian to the whole wide uni-world!

As demanded, Pearson’s Mystery Partner begins to shake her ever so huge derriere. But all that physical exertion builds up an appetite, one she tries to satiate with a Hershey bar fetched form beneath one of the fat folds.

Kathryn: And now Kordy want to see Marky-Coo-Boo-Boo twerk…TWERK!

After a roll of his eyes, Comeau turns his backside to the camera, hikes up his jacket a little bit and somehow manages to do a twerk that’s even worse than the two that proceeded it.

Kathryn: Now Kordy want to talk about being a star….Kordy want to talk about sucking Porno Lad’s joy-joy stick to make her a star…Kordy want to keep talking in the third person until everyone throws up tonight.

Comeau: Alright, now that we’ve got that out of the way. Let’s discuss who you think Kathryn Pearson has recruited as her tag team partner at Extreme Fury.

Kathryn: We already know who Booby McGee’s tag team partner is gonna be….It’s the Hamburgler! No-no-no-it’s UNDERDOG! No-no…Kordy know who Booby’s tag team partner is…Kordy had Polly write it down on her marker board….Polly…show ‘em!

The sign is held up and generates quite the response when the words “I WAS BORN WITH BOTH SEX ORGANS” are revealed to be written across its surface.

Kathryn: Oh nos Polly….nos….turn the board around you big dumb lesbo.

The Masked Lady feigns surprise over her ‘faux-pas’ before turning the board around to reveal the name “KATO.”

Kathryn: That’s right, Booby has brought back to life Bruce Lee and put him in his Kato mask just so she could beat the Harem.

Comeau: How are you going to attempt to combat this uncertainty?

Kathryn: Easy…the same way we combat everything….The Harem is going to defeat Booby and Kato with the….TWERK!

Both ladies begin to shake their rumps to greater hype from the crowd.

Kordy: Ooooh Marcus….you’re such a charmer.

The twerking, as well as all the fun and games end when the Cartel-tron lightens to reveal where the Harem has been throughout this whole impersonation and Porno Lad’s abduction.

The reason Kathryn is so preoccupied with the video suddenly becomes obvious when her boyfriend, Marcus Mayfield appears. But more importantly, it’s Marcus’ predicament, which has Pearson so consumed. He is presently tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth.

Dollar: Again…what are we seeing here?

Confusion becomes clearer when a set of hands are revealed to be on Marcus’ shoulders. Massive hands belonging to Polly Norah. Massive hands that prevent Mayfield from rising out of the chair

Kordy: Why resist gorgeous?

Marcus’ lap eventually finds itself occupied by Kordy, who continues to put her push up bra to good use.

Kordy: You know you love Kordy…everyone loves Kordy…I’m irresistible. Kordy is like candy on Easter, you can’t get enough of her.

Mayfield would beg to differ if his mouth wasn’t presently gagged.

Kordy: And Kordy, she can be your all day treat, if you just tell us who Kat’s partner is.

All Marcus can do, considering he has no use of his voice-box at the moment, is glare with piercing eyes into the smiling face of Kordelia.

However, Kathryn and her Masked compatriot can do a little more than that, canning their act so they can bustle up the ramp.

Dollar: It looks like the Harem has abducted Marcus Mayfield, and they’re holding him until he gives him answers regarding Pearson’s tag team partner.

Sparkles: What I wouldn’t give to be bound and gagged by Kordy.

The marker board that displays the entire match card for the evening once again becomes the focus of the screen…now with a skateboard drawn in the corner and the indentation of Leviticus’ head left in its surface. In spite of these recent editions, one match stands out the most, thanks in large part to the fact that the “Is” in Cassidy Cage’s match have been dotted with smiling faces. One face that isn’t grinning, is Maxine Moore’s. She stands before the marker board, staring at the words ‘Maxine Moore versus Cassidy Cage.’

However, it isn’t clear what Abigail Lindsey’s more focused on, the marker board, or the contemplative gaze of her bodyguard Moore.

Abigail: Don’t even think about it, Maxine…

The hired gun of Lindsey is doing MORE than thinking about it, her fists clinching in anticipation of this potential match.

Amanda Blayze stomps through the backstage area, eyes so focused on the cellphone that she barely even watches where she’s going. She almost bumps right into a huddle between a stagehand and a referee…and no this is not the set up for a punchline to a joke.

Stagehand: So did you hear?

Fitzpatrick: What’s that?

Stagehand: The news about Brittany Lohan?

Amanda stops…stops cold…chills and hives racing through her body.

Stagehand: Heard she was here tonight.

Fitzpatrick: Seriously?

Amanda: HOLD ON!

The ticket confirmation e-mail on Amanda’s phone is now ignored in favor of a more pressing matter.

Amanda: Did I hear you right?

Fitzpatrick: Depends on what part of our conversation you were listening to. I swear I was joking about being in love with One Direction.

Amanda: The part about Brittany Lohan!

Stagehand: Yeah…that’s what I heard at least.

Amanda: From who?

Stagehand: I can’t remember.

Amanda: FROM WHO!?!

Stagehand: I swear….I can’t remember…besides, it’s just a rumor.

Blayze was moments from turning the collar of the stagehand into a noose, but she somehow keeps from strangling answers out of his body. It takes a drawn out breath to at last find some composure, Blayze turning away from the stagehand and the referee. They watch the tense Blayze take her leave, but THEY aren’t the only ones watching. Another individual clad in a hoodie steps from the shadows, watching as Amanda makes her way down the corridor in pursuit of answers.

’

EARLIER TONIGHT

Has it been a chaotic night in terms of in ring action? Ya betcha’?

And we’re about to relive some of that chaos right now. Cause earlier in the night we got a glimpse of what we can expect from SIN.

When Leviticus collided with Mr. Hush under Falls Count Anywhere rules, insanity was the word of the day.

Greyson: The anarchy continues here tonight in our inaugural edition of SIN.

Dollar: Gah, don’t call it that. This is and always will be IWC.

Sparkles: Tow the company line, bucko…tow the company line.

Dollar: Earlier tonight we got another taste of what to expect from Sinistry running the show when Leviticus and Mr. Hush were forced to face one another in a Falls Count Anywhere Match.

The Chase Global and Black Crusade members take full advantage of this match-type, spending next to no time in the ring before their brawl spills to the outside, and to the backstage area. They go for pinfalls on the stage, on the pavement behind the curtains and even inside of the production truck.

Dollar: Please never book a Falls Count Anywhere match again until you have security stationed outside the production trailer.

Sparkles: I don’t mind reliving Teen Witch. So much underage hotness.

Dollar: Well, it was all fun and games up until we saw SIN’s personal referee attempt to shaft Mr. Hush out of a victory. And if it hadn’t been for Leviticus, that’s exactly what would have happened..

Wright conveniently decides to take offence to Al’s presence so he can outright ignore the pinfall by Mr. Hush, and the attack by the Pestilence on the Black Crusade representative. Thankfully Leviticus comes to his senses, and decides to stand up for what’s right..what’s right being throwing Laymon into Wright and throwing the match out in the process.

Dollar: Sinistry has made a number of valiant attempts to thwart the uprisings of Chase Global and the Black Crusade throughout the night, and we’re moments from seeing them take this one step furt….

Greyson: Speaking of which.

Cameras shift to Head of Security, Arnie Ficklebottom, planted behind the barricade, but not for long. Though Arnie is gargantuan, he is still dwarfed by Executioner, hence why he does not put up an argument as he is replaced at ringside by the FORMER head of security. The masked goliath, steps over the barrier and assumes the position, fulfilling the job he was at one time and will now once again be entrusted with.

Dollar: AGAIN!?! Another of our staff is being replaced.

Greyson: Well to be fair, was Executioner ever actually removed as the Head of Security?

Dollar: You know what this is all about.

Sparkles: Executioner wants to get close to that jailbait in the front row?

ALANA STARR VS. P CLARENCE WHITMAN III

If anyone can take the focus off of Executioner, it would be the woman about to make her way to the stage.

Alana Starr is about to be increasingly grateful for her relationship with Lucas, because courting England’s national hero, entitles her to certain perks.

Perks including a reaction that borders on deafening. The curtains part for the ever so lovely “GOOD GIRL,” who doesn’t just get a good reception, but an AWESOME reception. The crowd only gets louder when they see Alana attempt to endear herself to the fans by method of a wearing Union Jack themed attire.

Dollar: Alana Starr’s attire bedecked in the Union Jack tonight, in an attempt to suck up to the British fans.

Greyson: I don’t know how long that reaction is going to be sustained when P Clarence Whitman III comes out here.

Dollar: Indeed, the issues between Chase Global and the Black Crusade’s associates about to culminate in another one on one confrontation as the Good Girl faces the Patron Saint of Britain, PCW3.

Alana continues to bask in the adulation as she sides into the ring, kicks back her head and tussles her hair with both hands. She then stops in order to point to the many Lucas Knight signs being displayed by the fans, and by many, we means hundreds.

Dollar: Alana in a bag match right now, and later tonight, her boyfriend is going to be involved in a blockbuster one on one encounter with Andre Jordan.

Greyson: If Andre can even make it to that match given the injury he sustained at the hands of Gavin Taylor a few moments earlier.

Dollar: Indeed, this marks the second time that Andre has been attacked by Gavin Taylor, and had his title stolen from him, just before was set to collide with Lucas Knight.

The reaction for Alana is amazing, but the response that P. Clarence Whitman III gets is downright astonishing! The man himself, PCW3 makes his way to the stage wearing his traditional wrestling attire with a bit of added flare to boot. A Union Jack flag has been transformed into a cape, one that he wears on his way down the ramp and towards the ring. It is only fitting that he be adorned in a cape, considering that he’s a fabled British hero.

Dollar: Listen to this reaction.

Greyson: Nottingham is showing Whitman some love.

Sparkles: I’d like to show Alana my own type of love.

Greyson: Gag orders, Sparkles….

Sparkles: Oh, I can think of something she can gag on.

Greyson: SPARKLES!!

Whitman enters the ring with much fanfare in spite of doing little to pander to the audience. He just sips on his customary brandy, and tips his glass in the direction of his fellow countrymen before sliding through the ropes and into the ring.

Dollar: Whitman paying for his association with the Black Crusade here tonight.

Greyson: And Alana paying too, for her relationship with Knight.

Dollar: Who knows what the Sinistry has cooked up for these too.

We’re about to find out, and it’s not going to be very appetizing.

Hurse: Mr. Whitman, Mrs. Starr…

With patch over eye, and microphone in palm, Hurse occupies the stage, and consumes the attention of both combatants inside of the ring. Whitman’s face puckers into a look of indignation, while Alana just rolls eyes to the back of her skull.

Hurse: The two of you are probably anxious to hear what match you’ll be facing off in in order to both hype the impending Extreme Fury pay-per-view AND to test your commitment to the NEW regime. Well, the Sinistry has been kind enough to send me out here to let the cat out of the bag. But before I get to that, I just want to wish YOU the best of luck, Mr. Whitman.

Clarence wishes this expression was sincere.

Hurse: Don’t let this opportunity slip through your fingers…I know how it feels to drop the ball, it’s friggin’ crippling is what it is. I wouldn’t wish that feeling on my worse enemies…But should you continue to believe the lies that Katelyn Buehler has been telling you, you’ll become well acquainted with that feeling. Don’t let yourself be bonded to Buehler….it’s an association you’ll live to regret. You’ll end up just like me, another squandered and aimless talent listlessly drifting through life. You’ll be a loser…just like tonight when you face Alana Starr here in a “WEAPON’S MATCH.”

Normally Whitman would care less what the match type is…except for on this occasion….because it allows Alana the perfect opportunity to employ the brass knuckles she slipped out of her trunks and onto her fist.

Dollar: A Weapon’s Match? This is right up Alana’s alley? This is just the match that she’s set to compete in at Extreme Fury.

Greyson: And it looks like she came prepared.

The brass knuckles are swung right at the back of Whitman’s head, and would connect if Clarence didn’t possess a heightened state of awareness. He bends forward and the brass knuckles miss his skull. The missed shot causes Alana to go spiraling forward into the ropes, bouncing off and then coming back in at Whitman who ducks, catches and back drops his opponent through the air. Starr catches great height and then ultimately crashes to the canvas across her bum.

Dollar: She missed that shot with the brass knuckles and was made to pay for her attempted cheap strike on Whitman.

Sparkles: She landed straight on her ass….Maybe I….

Greyson: Sparkles….don’t make me bust out the muzzle.

Further penance is paid by Alana, when Whitman rolls to the exterior of the ring, lifts the tarp hung from the apron, reaches under the squared circle and retrieves a steel chair.

Dollar: Whitman grabbing the weapon he’s become quite proficient with as of late.

Greyson: I thought Whitman didn’t like weapons.

Dollar: That may have been the case several months ago, but Whitman has underwent a lot of changes the past few months, primarly brought about by the Sinistry and by the influence of the Black Crusade.

The chair is properly utilized by Whitman at this point, who lifts it above his head and approaches the now kneeling Alana. She turns over to her knees and with pleading eyes looks towards Clarence. Hands interlock in prayer, and eyes exude that puppy dog quality.

Alana: Please don’t. I’m just a girl…a good girl….a sweet innocent good girl.

One angel sits on Whitman’s shoulder, telling him to turn the other cheek.

One devil sits on Whitman’s opposite shoulder, convincing him that he needs to bash the bitches brain in.

Before we can find out rather valor or vengeance is going to win out, Alana takes the choice out of Whitman’s hands, driving the top of her head directly into his crotch. Though Clarence would normally be overjoyed to have a beautiful woman’s head near in his nether regions, he gets no joy from the damage inflicted on his testicles.

He doubles over, grabbing at his crotch while Alana stands up, takes him around the back of the head and delivers a sit-out jaw breaker. Whitman staggers back, swinging his arms and trying to remain upright while Alana rolls backwards from her seat, right over the steel chair. She snatches it up in the process, holds it in front of her face and then charges right at the discombobulated Whitman only to have him leave his feet and deliver a dropkick directly to the steel. The chair bounces off of Alana’s face and knocks her to the canvas amidst a rousing ovation.

Dollar: Whitman leaving his feet, something we rarely see him do in order to dropkick that chair on Alana.

Sparkles: Poor Alana, good girls don’t deserve such bad treatment.

Whitman hurries along to his feet and then into the nearest turnbuckle. To the amazement of the audience, Clarence slips through to the ropes and ascends a corner, getting to the very top rope.

Dollar: Oh wow…Whitman is gonna…he’s gonna FLY.

Greyson: Given his history with heights, it’s truly dazzling every single time we see him do this.

Whitman begins to precariously balance himself upon the top rope, getting his footing before he at last takes to the air. He soars a quarter length of the ring and eventually comes crashing down skull first directly into Alana’s clavicle.

Greyson: Whitman put his head right into Alana.

Sparkles: Re-he-he-eeeealy?

Greyson: Oh lord, don’t even respond.

Dollar: It’s amazing that Whitman would even deliver that move on Alana, considering it was just a few weeks ago that he refused to so much as lay a finger on a female athlete. In fact, he freaked out so much when he accidentally hurt one of his female opponents that he rushed backstage to get her a stretcher.

Alana might not be stretchered out after having her shoulder broken by this nasty landing from Whitman, who is crawling right into the cover.

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A three count is about to be delivered by referee Fitzpatrick, but Alana’s rising shoulder prevents such a likelihood. She turns away from Whitman, put Clarence is right back in her face…or more accurately, his wrists are. Whitman rolls Alana to her stomach and applies the crossface to a reaction that has the British crowd acting like they’re witnessed a greater moment than the Royal Wedding.

Dollar: Is Whitman gonna make Alana tap out? Is she going to submit to end this Weapons Match?

Sparkles: I have a question.

Greyson: Good God no.

Sparkles: What’s the difference between a Hardcore Match, a Falls Count Anywhere Match, and a Weapon’s Match? Isn’t this bordering on redundancy?

Dollar: I’m pretty sure redundancy is what IWC does best.

The fans eagerly watch as Alana lifts her free hand into the air, hand twitching above the canvas. She fights her baser compulsions that would see her submit to this hold. So instead she attempts a counter, reaching out and grabbing the brass knuckles she attempted to use earlier. Now they do find their way into Whitman’s flesh, albeit not his forehead, instead it’s his forearm that feels the brunt of Starr’s fury.

The knuckles nail him close enough to the wrist to force him to break the crossface. He then turns away from Alana, but Starr is right in his face, or more accurately, it’s her fist directed at his face. One arm may hang limp at her side, but the other brandishes the brass knuckles traveling directly into Whitman’s cheek.

Dollar: Alana hit it….Alana nailed him square in the face!

Greyson: The same weapon she used on Maxine Moore last week, being employed against Whitman….Hey, I think I’m really getting the hang of this commentating shtick.

Sparkles: If Susie Moore can do it, anyone can.

Dollar: This is no time for a pat on the back, Whitman is about to be defeated.

That he is, as Alana climbs into the cover, hooking a leg on the knocked out Whitman.

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Knocked out was probably a bit of an exaggeration, because Whitman manages to KICK OUT.

His shoulder escapes the canvas and he begins to twist his body away from Alana but doesn’t get very far. He only manages to squirm to his stomach before Alana is on top of him, stepping over his knees. She locks Whitman’s legs around his own and then grabs his wrists, trying to pull him up into the Mexican surfboard. But before she does that, Starr just can’t help but to take advantage of this position. She slaps the back of Clarence’s head several times in an act that gets the crowd riled up, taking offense to this blatant disrespect shown to their patron saint.

Dollar: Alana treating Whitman with zero respect here tonight.

Sparkles: His mustache just makes people angry. Looking at it right now is getting me homicidal.

If the slaps weren’t dishonorable enough, she now employs a headbutt on the back of Whitman’s neck. She stands up, smirks towards the angry crowd and makes that same puppy dog expression as if begging for their forgiveness.

Alana: Did you not see the Union Jack?

Gestures are made to the tights bound about her body. She then blows off the jeering crowd, takes Whitman’s shoulders and pulls him up into another headbutt to the…CHAIR….Whitman gets it up into the air and employs it as a shield, one that Alana unwittingly slams her face directly into.. She now gets all glossy eyes, teetering between feet before Whitman twists his body, employing the very legs Alana had wrapped around her own to connect with a modified drop toe hold.

Alana falls flat on her face and Whitman is rolling along to her side, grabbing her arm, placing it between his knees and interlocking hands under her jaw. The Crossface is locked in again and Alana once more finds herself on the brink of tapping out.

Dollar: Whitman countering…countering right back into the crossface.

Sparkles: The only tapping I want to see out of Amanda, is me taping that ass.

The submission is a very real possibility…in Whitman’s mind at least. Amanda has a totally different perspective, demonstrated as she wedges knees to the canvas then pushes off them, rolling forward with Clarence desperate to hold on. However, his persistence to maintain the grip might just be his undoing, because Amanda manages to roll out of his clutches, then step over his head and wrap her arms around his waist. Before Clarence can react he’s being pulled up into that very same spike piledriver that Alana utilized on Brittany Lohan at Invictus.

Dollar: There’s that piledriver…that very DANGEROUS piledriver.

Greyson: Spiking Whitman right on his noggin.

Sparkles: He might be left in worst shape than Piddle & Plop. Still can’t believe the fate that befell my homeboys earlier tonight.

Whitman is in bad shape, but is it a bad enough condition to net Alana the win. She certainly hopes so, hooking Clarence’s legs and leaning with her back to his chest, listening the symphony of boos.

The jeers only get louder with each slap of the referee’s hand to the canvas.

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Alana is both shocked and saddened to hear the crowd emphatically change their tune as Whitman launches a shoulder from the canvas.

Dollar: I hate to sound like a broken record, but I can’t help to remark on just how far Whitman has come as an athlete.

Sparkles: Then you’re probably going to be pretty damned bummed to see how far he’s going to fall against Alana.

And he’s going to fall HARD.

Whitman attempts to reach his feet but doesn’t make it very far before Alana manages to nail him in the back of his skull with the Starr-Crossed.

Dollar: You might have been right Sparkles.

Sparkles: Might of? Don’t question my omnipotence.

Again Whitman’s head collides with the canvas, but instead of staying down on the ring and being subjected to a loss, Clarence rolls under the ropes and prevents the humiliation of defeat. He continues to lean against the apron, heavily favoring his scrambled brains while Alana takes off across the ring and drops into a baseball slide. Both of her boots connect right against Whitman’s body, and sends him spiraling into the barricade. He falls over his own feet, collapsing into the barricade back first.

Alana looks to take advantage of her opponent’s prone and compromising position. She grabs the brass knuckles off the canvas, and prepares to employ them outside of the ring.

She does just that, rushing towards Whitman with a fist cocked back…..however, it’s a boot that ultimately connects…one of Whitman’s. He launches his leg into the air and nails Starr’s chin with his heel, thwarting her attempted blow with the brass knuckles and sending her staggering back all in one swift strike.

Though Whitman saved himself from a concussing blow, he is not spared the wrath of the head of security. Executioner turns himself into a human straight jacket, reaching over the barrier and hooking both of Whitman’s arms, pinning them behind his back.

Dollar: Head of SECURITY my ass.

Greyson: Executioner replaced Ficklebottom before the match and now he’s got hold of Whitman.

Dollar: This is ANOTHER Sinistry screw-job.

One that is about to culminate to Whitman having a few of his teeth shattered by the brass knuckles around Alana’s fist. Now that all avenues of escape have been cut off by Executioner, Alana takes advantage, rushing forth and swinging her brass knuckles right into….Wait…Whitman managed to find a backdoor….He drops down and slides out of Executioner’s arms, which provides a clean path for Alana’s fist into the masked goliath’s face.

Greyson: YOW!

Dollar: Alana just knocked Executioner on his bag ass!

Executioner does land on his ass, albeit in an empty chair in the front row. His arms then fall to his sides while his eyes drift back into the recesses of his skull.

And Alana’s eyes are drifting towards the man who crawled through her legs to avoid the punishing blow from the brass knuckles…the man climbing up onto the apron…the man diving through the ropes with a heated…nay…supernova Starr hot on his heels.

She just manages to slide into the ring only to have Whitman catch her around the neck, drag her head under his seat and snatch her around the waist. He then attempts to heave her up into a pilderiver all of his own….one just as nasty as Alana’s.

But what’s even nastier is Alana’s counter. Just before she can be heaved into the move, Starr wedges her feet to the canvas and pushes towards Whitman, driving him back into the ropes. Whitman is sent spilling through the cables but ultimately twisting onto his feet. He no sooner lands before diving back into the ring. Unfortunately, he only gets a quarter of the way through the ropes before Alana comes diving in from beside him, leaping right into the Starr Crossed…that connects…with NOTHING.

Whitman draws back his head a split second before it could be cut from his neck.

Starr no sooner lands on her feet after botching the move, before Whitman goes diving through the ropes. Alana is caught by the arm and forced to the canvas, immediately being placed in the crossface.

Dollar: Whitman going back to the move that has proven so advantageous for him in the past.

Sparkles: Because the man only has about two moves in his arsenal and they both suck out loud.

The submission is tightly clamped on and Alana is on the cusp of submitting to it….but it’s another hold tightly clamped that actually SAVES Starr from this fate.

Amazingly Executioner has managed to stagger back towards the ring, grab Alana by the ankle and pull it with enough force to send her sliding out of the squared circle and out of the submission hold.

Dollar: Dammit…I thought Executioner had been taken out with those brass knuckles.

Greyson: How is he back up?

Sparkles: My guess, steroids…and lots of them.

Apparently it took what little strength Executioner had left to pluck Alana from the ring, hence why he’s getting weak kneed to the point that he falls forth into the barrier. Whitman isn’t about to provide him a moment’s reprieve though. The mustachioed warrior slides through the ropes to the apron, interlocks his hands and dives off of the apron into a double axehandle….Yep a double axehandle that carries him right along into a goozle from Executioner.

Dollar: Wait…Whitman’s been caught by the throat…Executioner has hold of him.

Greyson: But what’s he gonna do with him?

Sparkles: Did your trousers just twinge?

Executioner glares furiously into the eyes of Whitman, burning a hole straight through his mustachioed face and into the pit of his soul….a soul he will cripple should he connect with the move he has in store. Thankfully, that doesn’t happen, owed completely to the interference of Mr. Hush. The sea of spectators part so that Mr. Hush can step through them, reach over the barrier and apprehend both of Executioner’s arms, pinning them behind his back.

Dollar: It’s Hush…and he’s got Executioner.

Greyson: This has to be retribution for that attack earlier tonight in the Falls Count Anywhere match.

Whitman is staggered physically but not mentally. He has the forethought to grab the brass knuckles off the mats, slide them around his fingers and prepare to deliver one final shot on Executioner. Just as he steps forward, Executioner manages to shrug off grips of Hush, freeing his arms so that he can snatch Whitman about his throat.

Dollar: But Executioner has got Whitman again!

It takes much of Executioner’s strength, but he manages to heave Whitman into the air and throw him towards the steel turnbuckle post…..threatening to chokeslam him into it in a scene reminiscent of what happened last week right here on this very telecast. But instead of the repeat button being pushed, Whitman manages to avert suffering the same fate he did last week, and the subsequent spike in his insurance rates.

Instead of cracking off the post, Whitman manages to land on the apron, catching the top rope and preventing having his back shattered by the steel. A stunned Head of Security then rushes forward only to eat Whitman’s boot, receiving a swift shot directly to his face delivered by Whitman.

Executioner then turns…turns right into the waiting left handed back chop of Mr. Hush. The strike sends Executioner twisting back towards the ring where he gets another boot to the face delivered by Whitman.

This kick sends the Pestilence member turning his masked face into ANOTHER left handed blow delivered by Mr. Hush.

Dollar: Mr. Hush and Whitman, they’re just ping-ponging Executioner between them.

The kick of Whitman serves as the final blow, sending Executioner spinning into a front chancery applied by Mr. Hush, who heaves him over into the vertical suplex right across the concrete.

Dollar: And now Executioner completely removed from the equation.

Yes, Executioner is taken out….but not the remainder of the Pestilence….who make their presence known. Wilde and Laymon barrel towards the squared circle…intent on helping out the brute force of their group.

Dollar: But here comes the rest of the Pestilence…

Just before they can lend aid to Executioner, the two remaining members of Pestilence find themselves taken out via a diving stereo lariat by Whitman, who leaps from the apron and right into his enemies.

Sparkles And there goes the Pestilence.

Immediately after dispensing with the Pestilence at ringside, Whitman attempts to re-enter the squared circle, turning his focus where it matters. He climbs up onto the apron and just extends his head through the ropes before it’s almost cleaved from its shoulders thanks to the Starr-Crossed.

Dollar: The Starr-Crossed…..

Sparkles: If you scream one more time in my ears…

Greyson: You don’t even have ears.

Whiplash….a concussion….maybe even some unkempt hairs on his upper lip…All inflicted by method of the Starr Crossed on Whitman’s skull. His face bounces off of the very canvas he’s now being pinned upon.

Dollar: And Alana has just climbed in through the doggy door to get the win.

Sparkles: I’d love to go doggy sty…

Greyson: SPARKLES!

The pin is being made and the crowd is screaming for their national hero to kick out.

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The screaming only gets louder when Alana lunges forth, crying out not in celebration, but in shock thanks to Whitman getting his shoulder up.

Sparkles: That scrappy little fucker.

Dollar: Whitman kicks out…JUST kicks out of the Starr-Crossed!

Whitman got his shoulder up and has the crowd glued to the edges of their seats. But the interaction between Mr. Hush and the Pestilence at ringside, acts as a solvent. Wilde and Laymon recuperate from the stereo lariat, climb the barricade and begin to fight with Mr. Hush in the stands. And just when they think their number’s game has Hush reeling…here comes someone to throw a big fat monkey wrench in all of their plans.

Leviticus bolts to the squared circle and up the steel steps to the turnbuckle. He manages to ascend all the way to the top rope, steadying himself while glaring down over the barricade towards the Pestilence and Mr. Hush brawling it out.

Dollar What is Leviticus doing out here?

Sparkles: Being awesome.

Dollar: And getting some payback on the Pestilence as well.

Leviticus leaves his feet, soaring through the air, over the barricade and ultimately crashing into both Wilde and Laymon with a senton plancha.

Dollar: OOOOH-M-G!

Sparkles: Told ya.

The big dive into the Pestilence as the crowd reacting big time. They are jumping from their seats and dancing on their feet in response to Leviticus taking out both members of the Pestilence and doing so in ever so epic fashion.

Dollar: The Pestilence completely taken out at this point while the action continues inside of the ring.

The fans are multi-tasking, watching the brawl in the stands, and Whitman making his own stand inside of the ring. He just gets to his knees when Alana comes stepping in, takes him around the neck and prepares to deliver the Five-Starr. She flips forward right into the Somersault Cutter but somehow Whitman manages to reach out, catch the top rope with both hands and twist out of the predicament in the nick of time.

Alana ends up flipping forward right onto her seat with Whitman dropping down behind her, wrapping up both her arms then employing them to drag her over into the crucifix pin.

Dollar: What a counter…what a counter right into the crucifix!!

Sparkles: if Whitman wins this, I’ll grow an epic mustache in his honor.

The fans are already rejoicing before the official can even start his count.

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The crowd’s tune changes drastically from one of applause to despair as Alana manages to get her shoulder up off of the canvas.

Dollar: Whitman almost…ALMOST had it.

Sparkles: Almost is for bitches, John-Boy.

Dollar: Well Whitman has proven he is no bitch here tonight.

Whitman’s manliness is truly about to be put to the test, because right after Alana kicks out, she’s rolling back to her feet and rushing across them into a cheek shattering thrust kick…that only breaks the empty space around the kneeling Whitman’s head. He pulls back at the last second, avoiding the strike, then leaps to his feet, wraps his arms around Alana’s waist and pushes her forward into the cables.

Alana manages to make a bad situation….GOOD…by lunging into the air, landing on the middle rope of the cables she was tossed into and springing off. She then makes a mid-air rotation right into the chair…a chair swung into her ribs by Whitman.

Dollar: The chair…..I had completely forgotten about the chair!

Greyson: Well Whitman just reminded you of it, and how dangerous it can be in his hands.

Whitman further emphasizes this fact as he watches Alana drop to his knees before him, then steps back, retracts the chair and prepares to put it to even more destructive purposes. There is no more consultation with angels and demons on his shoulders, Whitman only thinking about winning this match and doing so by putting away the GOOD girl.

He is in mid-swing before Leviticus comes sliding into the squared circle, jumping between the chair and Alana’s spine. As a result the steel cracks directly into the Marketing Guru’s head.

Dollar: Hey! Leviticus just sacrificed himself for Alana!

Sparkles: If her beautiful face gets shattered, he can’t very well market it now can he?

The chair thuds off of Leviticus’ skull and sends him spiraling down to the canvas. This tumble is followed closely by the eyes of Mr. Hush, who evidently does NOT like what he just witnessed.

Whitman doesn’t like it either, not one little bit as he stares between the warped chair in his hands and the equally as warped skull of Leviticus. He finally turns away from one victim to create another…that victim being HIMSELF. The second his focus goes back to Alana, he instead finds his head caught in her clutches, and his head spiraling into the canvas, and his head subjected to the Five-Starr.

Dollar: That Somersault neckbreaker, it finally connects after Leviticus threw himself in the way of that chair shot.

The aborted blow on Alana gave her just enough time to recover and now go for the pin on England’s patron saint.

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The reaction is downright biblical as the crowd unleashes an unholy response to Whitman’s loss and Alana’s victory.

Dollar: What…a…turn of events.

Greyson: Just when we thought Whitman had it…the victory was blown by way of Leviticus’ interference.

The Nottingham crowd goes on reacting with dread as Alana puts Whitman out with that flipping cutter, and now begins to celebrate her victory. She doesn’t even acknowledge Leviticus’ selfless act, but Mr. Hush does. At ringside the masked Black Crusade member is trying to get word…or since Hush doesn’t speak…get sign language…with a barely recovered Leviticus. However, the Most Loved Man on the Planet wants to find the darkest corner of the earth to hide in right now, hence why he blows off Mr. Hush and makes his way up the ramp.

Dollar: Major…MAJOR win for Alana tonight.

Greyson: A big win for Chase Global period.

Dollar: Alana certainly owes a big thank you to Leviticus.

Will she give just that? We’re about to find out, because Alana has crawled across the ring and is reaching through the ropes as she requests a microphone. She has it planted in her hand, and her rear-end plants itself in the corner. Obviously she’s exhausted, but she still has thoughts that MUST be purged from her addled mind.

Alana: My loyal British fans..what you just saw wasn’t just a spectacular win…it wasn’t just as stunning win…It was a GOOD win…GOOD…GOOD…GOOD!

She tries to get the crowd to chant ‘good,’ but they would rather chant another word in Starr’s direction, a BAD word.

Alana: And the good times will continue to roll for the good people, when my main squeeze puts that dog, Andre, out of his misery tonight.

Finally she gets the reaction she was seeking, and all it took was some name dropping.

Alana: Then, after Knight has put my ex ‘friend’ in his place, he and I will set my precious Porno Lad free…We will save him from that moppy haired dumpster diver….

If anyone needs to be saved, it’s Alana….Who continues her diatribe without realizing that Maxine Moore has made her way through the crowd and jumped the barricade. A bandage remains fixed to her forehead after the attacks by Starr and Cassidy Cage in recent weeks. That’s not going to stop her though, as no force on earth will debilitate her, will keep her from seeking a resolution to the transgressions committed against her. Not even Abigail Lindsey can stop her, as Serenity follows her bodyguard and continues to try and talk some sense into her.

Sparkles: Watch out my Sex-Kitten, there’s some huge BITCH coming out of the crowd.

Dollar: That’s…that’s Maxine Moore.

As Maxine is about to make her entrance, Whitman finally makes his exit from the squared circle, albeit not under his own power. Simon Cagero has dragged Whitman to the exterior of the ring and turns himself into a makeshift crutch, leading Whitman away from the ring and up the ramp. Meanwhile, Alana is still talking and Maxine is still stalking.

Alana: With all my boys safe and sound, I’ll be free to concentrate my efforts on beating Abigail and Cassidy at Extreme Fury, and then tearing that tattooed slut, Kathryn Pearson apart to take her X-Class…

She won’t be taking anything at the moment besides a huge forearm between the shoulder blades. Maxine rushes forward and cracks Starr to the back of her skull with a devastating shot, one that sends the Good Girl spiraling into the ropes. She ricochets off and comes staggering back into a devastating Double A spinebuster by the powerful Maxine.

Dollar: Maxine…Maxine all over Alana! Getting retribution for what happened to her last week.

Sparkles: If you’re going to attack Alana, can you at least cause one wardrobe malfunction? That’s all I’m asking for, one damn nipple slip.

The spinebuster shakes the ring and shatters Alana’s body. Her attacker stands above her with a very twisted gleam in her eyes, a gleam that brings to light the brass knuckles sliding out of her pocket and onto her fist. Abigail stands on the apron, pleading with Maxine to reconsider using the very weapon that was instrumental in her beatdown on the last edition of Riot!

Dollar: If Maxine has her way, there’s going to be nothing left of Alana to compete against Abigail at Extreme Fury. There’s going to be nothing left of Starr PERIOD!

Sparkles: So there’s gonna be nothing left of her but menstrual fluids? Sick!

Maxine sizes up her attacker, crouching in anticipation of delivering brain trauma and inflicting facial reconstruction by way of this blow from the brass knuckles. Unwittingly Alana pulls herself up and into position for a shot that will undoubtedly take years off of her career…if not end it entirely.

The crowd is waiting as well….watching with mixed emotions as Alana turns, and Maxine steps forth. Her fist just begins to swing around before Starr is saved by another set of hands, one that wraps around her ankles and drags her body out under the ropes. Alana spills hard on the mats at the feet of Cassidy Cage.

Dollar: Just when it seemed that Maxine was finally going to have retribution, enter Cassidy.

A broad smirk inches over Cassidy’s face as her eyes cut between the ached Alana, and the antagonized Moore…between the brass knuckles on Maxine’s fist, and the chain wrapped around her own hand…between the intense frown of Abigail Lindsey, and the pronounced grimaces of the fans.

Dollar: It looks like Cassidy has managed to stick it to Abigail and Max….

Maxine: CASSIDY…

It isn’t until Cassidy hears her name passing through the lips of the Red Widow, that her attention cuts away from the crawling Alana beside her.

Maxine: You want me tonight, well you’re about to get all you can handle….Get in this ring….and get in here right now.

Though most would need a change in underpants after being challenged by Abigail’s enforcer, Cassidy actually twinges with excitement.

Abigail: No….Max….no…

No amount of protests is about to change what is going to happen next….as the match advertised on the white board is about to unfold.

Cassidy methodically approaches the ring, squeezing the chain around her hand, and about to put the squeeze on Maxine.

Moore paces the ring, griping the brass knuckles as she desperately tries to maintain a grip on her sanity.

Dollar: Maxine Moore versus Cassidy Cage….coming up here.

Sparkles: If you touch that dial, I swear I’ll send you to a Boko Haram.

The doorway leading to the office of the Sinistry and Desmond Drake….The doorway leading to the group that has transformed the IWC into SIN…The doorway that takes you into the inner workings of this twisted alliance….The doorway that opens to reveal two members of the Frost family, Ba’al and Jaina.

Ba’al: I trust that you will deal with them?

Jaina: I will deal with them brother. Failure will not be tolerated.

Ba’al: Then I shall take my leave, for the time is coming to ensure the success of our new business endeavor.

Jaina: SIN will truly thrive when the World Title is in within your possession.

Ba’al: And once the sphere of our influence grows.

The siblings part with Ba’al beginning to make his way down the corridor…Unbeknownst to the Prince of Sin, he’s actually moseying right along into a disastrous situation…Scott Cannon waiting in the wings to pounce on the contender for the World Heavyweight Championship. He stands around a corner at the end of the corridor Ba’al steps down, Scott spitting into his palms, rubbing them together then grabbing the chair leaning against his knees.

Scott: Not happening tonight, Ba’al….not happening.

The chair is about to crush Ba’al’s skull the moment he turns the corner.

Voice: Hello, Scott.

Cannon’s eyes widen and his grip on the chair weakens when he hears the voice emanating from behind. He spins around and finds himself face to face with Lucas Knight.

Kordy: We make such a cute couple, don’t we Marcus?

A cell-phone is held up so that Kordy can snap a selfie while seated across Marcus’ lap. His only respone remains an intense stare, given the fact that his mouth is still gagged.

Kordy: Just think how much fun you’d have with cute, adorable Kordy, instead of stuffy, uptight, tattooed Kat.

Mayfield squirms to try and free his wrists from the ropes that bind his arms together behind the chair, but has no such luck. And escaping the ropes won’t allow him to escape the grips of Norah, who only intensifies her squeeze on Mayfield’s shoulders.

Kordy: So what do you say you tell Kordy who Kat’s partner is at Extreme Flubby, and then you and Kordy can totally watch My Pet Pony together. Deal?

At last the gag is removed from Marcus’ mouth.

Marcus: Well…dear…as tempting an offer as that sounds, I think I shall have to pass.

Kordy: How can you possibly turn down My Pet Pony…and Kordy…TOGETHER!?! Has Kat’s big fake boobies totally killed your sex drive?

Marcus: I find it hard to be attracted to a woman who has the mental capacity of a five year old.

Kordy: Not fair, I read on a sixth grade level.

Marcus: My point exactly.

Kordy: Listen here you WILL tell me who Kat’s tag team partner is….You will give into Kordy’s charms.

A glass of bubbly is poured behind Marcus’ back by Polly and extended towards his lips.

Kordy: Grape-juice?

Marcus: No thanks, Dear, I have to drive later this evening.

MAXINE MOORE VS. CASSIDY CAGE

We return from commercial just in time to spot Cassidy corkscrewing through the air after being hit with a shoulder block from Maxine that gives a whole new meaning to the words ‘high impact.’

Dollar: BIG SHOULDER!!

Sparkles: Those shoulders are epic levels of huge.

Dollar: Cassidy and Maxine involved in an impromptu match here, one that Cassidy is probably regretting having challenged Moore to.

Cassidy gives a whole new meaning to the word ‘stunned.’ She is more shell shocked than a Vietnam war veteran as she tries to use the ropes to reach her feet. The gelatinous effect of her legs are only exacerbated by the devastating knife edge chops to the sternum by Maxine, followed by forearms to the chin and cheek that shake, rattle and roll her brain.

Abigail looks pleasantly surprised on the exterior of the ring, smiling rather than protesting. But her delight turns to distress when Moore whips Cassidy into the opposite res then sets for a back drop, perhaps prematurely…DEFINITELY prematuately….She bends down only to have Cage to stop right in front of her, drop into the splits and nail an uppercut across Maxine’s chin.

Dollar: Cassidy pulling off the splits.

Sparkles: Oh my God…oh my God…oh my God…tell me we have that recorded. PLEASE. And then tell me we can replay it all night long.

Maxine wouldn’t want it replayed, she just wants to forget it as she staggers back, swings her arms and does her best Leaning Tower of Pisa impersonation. Cassidy looks to take down that tower now as she approaches the steel chain she introduced into this impromptu match, scoops it up, wraps it around her fist and now comes rushing right into a devastating blow. That devastating blow being Maxine’s boot to Cassidy’s face.

The kick connects with such resounding trauma that Cassidy flips completely over backwards and ultimately comes down direction onto her face.

Dollar: Maxine’s power just too much for Cage.

After confirming that her head is still attacked to her neck, Cassidy begins to rise to a crawling base. She gets no further than that before Maxine steps to her side, swinging her arms to one side, and then to the other before finally twisting around into the pendulum elbow drop. The Silky Smooth nails Cassidy right in the kidneys, causing Cage to roar in anguish.

The fans hear it, Maxine hears it, and Alana delights in it. She has the best vantage point to hear Cassidy’s cries, leaning against the steel steps at ringside and still recovering from her previous match as well as the beat-down that proceeded it.

Cassidy’s beat-down proceeds as Maxine gets a running start and delivers a kick right to Cage’s ribs. The blow is so vicious that it actually picks Cage up into the air and sends her twisting through the ropes and crashing to the outside mats.

Dollar: Cassidy is not gonna be able to breath as Maxine continues this assault on the mid-section.

Greyson: She might have a few broken ribs from that shot.

Sparkles: Come over here, Cassidy, I’ll mend your wounds.

In spite of all the damage done to her mid-section, Cage is still capable of using her lungs to produce words. She grabs hold of the ring announcer’s microphone and drags herself up with the use of the announce table.

Dollar: Oh no…oh no…somebody PLEASE take that microphone away from her.

Cassidy: Maxi, you have no idea what you’re doing. You’re fighting…fighting for a woman who is going to leave you….She’s going to abandon you…She’s going to turn her back on you.

Abigail’s face twists into an expression of angst.

Cassidy: It doesn’t matter how much you love her…how much you do for her…She only thinks about herself…About satisfying her OWN needs…She’s just a two faced manipulator…A liar…A…

The boot delivered to Cassidy’s ribs, doubles her over and takes the words out of her mouth as well as the microphone out of her palm. Moore wasn’t about to stand idle and listen to any more of this, giving Cage no rest whatsoever, and showing her zero mercy. She takes hold of Cassidy’s wrist and whips her towards the ring….one that Cage rolls into it instead of slamming into.

She immediately takes advantage of this….jumping into the air, grabbing the top rope and swinging her legs throught the ropes and launching them into the chest of the inbound Maxine.

Moore is staggered back while Cassidy stands up on the apron then rushes across it, flipping forward into a senton. She crashes upside down right into Moore’s chest, knocking both ladies down to the mats.

Dollar: Cassidy finally getting in some offense…but it wasn’t easy when facing a scorned Moore.

Sparkles: All I want to see is Cassidy do the splits again. Someone give me that damned replay.

Abigail is right back in distress mode, nervously gnawing on her lower lip as official Blacker makes her count from the interior of the ring, threatening to disqualify Lindsey’s bodyguard. Cassidy isn’t about to let the confrontation end under these circumstances though, hell-bent and determined to beat Maxine right before the very eyes of Lindsey.

She rolls Moore unto the apron but leaves her head hanging over the apron and outside mats. Cassidy then picks up the microphone and comes rushing it, trying to bash Moore in the skull, but she pulls it out of the way in the nick of time.

The Red Widow then rolls back into the ring but Cassidy is following right behind her, microphone still in hand.

Cassidy: You think Abi will love you if you beat me tonight? No…she only loves herself. She’s just like all the Lohan’s, no one else matters…

Moore lunges to her feet and then through the air, right into a shoulder block that will shut up Cassidy and knock the microphone out of her palm for a second time. However, Cage drops into a baseball slide this time and gets to her knees behind Maxine, mic still in hand and mouth still open.

Cassidy: You’re lying to yourself, Maxine…Abigail is only using you…

What will it take to shut Cassidy up? A thrust kick, maybe? Yep, that did the trick.

Maxine turns and delivers the swift kick right to the kneeling Cage’s mouth, thickening her lips and closing her trap. The strike knocks Cage to her back and sends her rolling away from the microphone…a microphone that now finds its way into Moore’s palm. She seems to be debating something….

Dollar: It looks like Cassidy is about to find herself on the receiving end of a beating with that microphone.

Greyson: Only fitting since she’s subjected our ears to such pain with that device.

The microphone remains under Maxine’s eyes for several moments as Moore seems to be weighing the pros and cons. Finally she just throws it aside.

Dollar: Maxine NOT using the microphone and preventing a potential disqualification.

Sparkles: Meaning we get more opportunities to see Cassidy do the splits.

There’s only one thing that will be split, Cassidy’s wig. The microphone was only dropped so that Maxine could instead pick up the steel chain dropped by Cage. The weapon wraps around her fist…a fist that is about to find its way into Cassidy’s face.

Greyson: Maxine trading up.

Dollar: A microphone exchanged for a chain.

Maxine is determined to use the very weapon that Cassidy employed to mangle her with last week, and now it’s about to be employed….employed for retribution…revenge….vindication…and just to make Maxine have that joy-joy feeling. The chain careens towards Cassidy’s face as she agonizingly reaches her feet with the aid of the cables, having no idea what is in store for her. And she’ll never know what was waiting on her, because the moment she gets to her feet, she has them swept out from under her. Cage lands on her back and is then dragged out of the ring by Alana.

Dollar: Starr just saved Cassidy!

Greyson: I don’t know, I think it’s less about saving Cassidy, and more about sticking it to Maxine and Abigail.

Lindsey is already shouting at Alana, who simply smirks back in her direction. All the while Cage is trying to gather herself but is thus far only capable of pushing herself up onto her elbows and knees.

Alana: You think your entitled to GOOD things…I think noAAAAH!

Alana undergoes a change in tone when she finds her hair grabbed by Maxine, and now undergoes a change in attitude, when she finds herself dragged up onto the apron. No, not just unto the apron, but into the ring. Maxine employs the grip on Starr’s lovely locks to send her flipping over the cables unto her backside upon the canvas.

Dollar: Maxine fed up…not taking any more of Alana’s crap.

Sparkles: I wouldn’t mind having some of Alana’s cra…

Greyson: God damn you, Sparkles.

The good lord won’t have anything to do with the hellacious beating awaiting Alana.

This beating takes the form of several forearms over the back then knife edge chops straight across the sternum. The series of strikes knocks Alana back first into the ropes and almost flipping over them…which would suit her just fine, as it would prevent further brutality. But Maxine isn’t letting her go anywhere, not until she’s felt Moore’s wrath.

Dollar: Maxine is just wearing Alana out.

The tar…the stuffing…the blood…sweat…tears…everything is beaten out of Alana, as she continues to lean against the ropes and withstand this punishment. Maxine would beat even more out of her, if there is even anything left it wasn’t for the interference of Cassidy.

This interference takes the form of a chain shot right to the crease of Maxine’s knee, buckling her leg. Maxine falls to her knees and Cage now stands over her back, subjecting her upper back to several forearms and punches with the aid of the chain.

Dollar: Cassidy, chain and all, attacking Moore from behind…so much for this match.

Sparkles: You actually thought we were going to see a straight forward end to this match? You’re living in a dream world.

Abigail doesn’t stand around and watch as Cassidy and now Alana put the hurt on a kneeling Maxine. She won’t let history repeat itself, sliding into the ring and racing to the aid of her bodyguard. Yep, Abigail’s and Maxine’s roles have yet again been reversed with Lindsey protecting her hired muscle. She rushes right towards Cassidy, who spins around and flings her chain wrapped fist at her former lover’s face.

Cassidy misses the shot then spins around as Abigail flies through the air, springing off the middle rope and twisting into a roundhouse kick. Her boot nails Cage in the forehead, knocking her to the canvas.

Dollar: Abigail…Abigail saving Maxine…Abigail taking out Cassidy.

Sparkles: Now make HER do the splits.

Abigail rolls away from the strewn Cassidy, then turns in the direction of a brass knuckles wielding Alana.

Yes, the knucks have found their way back onto Starr’s fist, and are now about to find their way into Abigail’s face.

They swing…and they miss. Abigail ducks, swings around behind Starr and snatches her around the neck then points to the ropes.

Dollar: Abigail all whipped into a frenzy after what she saw these two do to Maxine last week AND here tonight.

Lindsey is determined that history will not repeat itself. She rushes across the ring and drags Alana along beside her before she leaves her feet, wedges them to the top rope and pushes off, going for the springboard bulldog. Alana has other plans though, wedging her hands to the small of Abigail’s back and then throwing her up into the air.

This push causes Abi to flip back, landing right on her feet behind Alana and then ducking just in time to prevent a Starr clothesline. Alana swings around to deliver a throat crushing blow but finds her bicep crushing nothing….Serenity ducks under the blow, rushes into the ropes behind Alana and then springs off the middle cable.

She twists around right into that same roundhouse kick only to have her plans go horribly awry when Cassidy manages to push aside Abigail’s target, Alana, and then have Cage fling her chained fist directly into Lindsey’s inbound ribs.

The shot cracks Abigail’s mid-section and drops her to the canvas, where she rolls around writhing in anguish.

Dollar: Cassidy with a chain to Abigail’s mid-section…shutting down her momentum.

Indeed, momentum has definitely been disrupted…but momentum is the least of Abigail’s worries. Now Cassidy is lining her up….lining her up for a shot to the face with the chain as opposed to the ribs.

She’s not the only one, because Alana has the brass knuckles around her fist, brass knuckles about to find their way into the opposite side of Abigail’s skull. She swings around at the same time as Cassidy, both sets of weapon wrapped hands about to collide with both sides of Abigail’s targeted face.

Two hands connect….wrapping around Abigail’s ankle and dragging her out of the path of these blows.

Maxine pulls Abigail out of harm’s way, then stands her up and throws her through the ropes.

Dollar: Maxine saves Abigail…

Maxine did save Abi, but she hasn’t saved herself. Moore sacrifices her own body to prevent any further damage being done to her friend. Maxine then finds the back of her head cracked by the brass knuckles swung by Alana…No…not just the brass knuckles…but the chain…the chain swung by Cassidy.

Both ladies drop Maxine to the canvas, but that isn’t good enough, as all four fists of Alana and Cassidy begin to rain down upon Moore’s body. Knuckles, be them flesh, or brass….chains….be them…well…just steel….all connect with Maxine’s body, absolutely pulverizing her…mashing her internal organs and breaking her bones.

Dollar: Wrong doesn’t even begin to describe what we’re seeing right now.

Sparkles: Teaches Maxine a tough lesson for sticking her big fat thighs in the business of these super hotties.

This assault only ends when Cassidy and Alana show rare solidarity by helping Moore to her feet and then out of the ring. Her shattered body collapses to the mats right at the knees of a recovering Abigail.

Once Lindsey’s eyes settle on the traumatized body of Maxine, Abi snaps out of her daze. She reaches down, grabs Moore around the hair and holds her head up so that she can brush back the locks of her hair and rub her bodyguard’s wounded skull. Though she cradles Maxine’s cranium against her chest, Lindsey’s eyes are entirely focused on the ring where Cassidy and Alana stand side by side. And although Starr and Cage would love to continue watching Moore ail at ringside, they wisely turn their focus on one another, cautiously looking at the weapons wrapped about their fists….weapons now stained with Moore’s blood.

Spencer: Amusing…

The Blacklist weighs in from their perch in the rafters.

Dollar: Great, as if this wasn’t already disgusting enough, now we’ve got to hear Spencer’s take on it.

The melancholy eyes of Spencer continue to watch as Maxine’s face is awash with blood.

Spencer: As much as we would like to stand here and watch Alana and Cassidy indulge their baser impulses, we’ve got a challenge that awaits an answer. Orlando, Franklin, we’re headed for that ring, and hopefully we’ll see you there.

As advertised, the Blacklist make their way towards the stairs that lead to the rafters, moments from descending upon the squared circle.

Greyson: Something tells me we’re gonna see more blood.

Dollar: The Blacklist headed for the ring, are we really about to see Spencer Klein versus Frankie Paradise?

Sparkles: If you change the station I’ll come to your home and poop on your chest.

The marker board featuring the rundown for tonight’s show has seen more action than the fallopian tubes of Orlando Cruze’s former lovers. Once again there’s an addition being added to this already packed card…Another match that will undoubtedly generate much hype….’Rachel Foxx versus Kitty Buehler.’

The marker is dropped by the writer, Kitty Buehler. Who steps back to observe her penwomanship.

Kitty: Hey, if it worked for Cassidy.

Silas: Everything is being taken’ care of Doll-Baby.

Taylor rubs her temple, TRYING to grapple with all of her conflicting and mixing emotions.

Taylor: Silas…I-I don’t think your grasping this…You’re only making my World Title reign look WEAK by having others take out my challengers.

Silas: Reeeaaally? That’s not the way I see things.

Who in their right mind would ever want to see things from Silas’ twisted perception? Taylor makes a valiant effort to do just that, as she consorts with her manager in her locker-room. Kelcey just stands back and watches this whole scene unfold, wishing to weigh in, but biting her tongue.

Silas: If ya jus go around and accept every challenge thrown ya way, it makes ya look weak. It makes it look like ya got something to prove. And Baby-Girl, ya got NOTHING ya need to prove to these idiots in the locker-room, and those limey Brits in attendance tonight. Don’t go round makin’ everyone thank ya do.

Taylor: I just REALLY want to beat Ba’al tonight.

Silas: Why is that? Are ya tryin’ to fight for the IWC?

Taylor: Well….

Silas: Can’t believe what I’m hearin’ here. Ya want to fight for a company that’s dun nuttin but disrespect ya and tarnish ya legacy? Ya been fightin’ for this company for close to a year now, and all they do is treat ya like a cancer. They treat ya like ya don’t deserve the title, in spite of all ya defenses, in spite of beatin the best this roster has thrown ya way. So why da ya feel like ya got anything to prove, and why should ya fight for the IWC?

Taylor: I-I….

Silas: Change the station, Tay, cause I’m tired of hearin’ this same old song. Ya ain’t gonna be manipulated and mistreated by this company any longer….understood?

The only one doing any manipulating is Silas, but before he gets the opportunity to further twist Taylor’s mind, everyone’s attention is redirected to the door. The sound of clawing can be heard emanating from the hallway. The source of this scratching noise is quickly discovered when Silas tentatively opens the door and Scott Cannon falls into the room. Blood seeps from the gaping wound in his forehead and his shirt is tattered in multiple places.

Silas: What da hell?

All eyes are agape at the sight of Scott and his beaten body. Only Kelcey moves to help, stooping down and scooping up Scott’s head into her arms.

Kelcey: Who did this to you?

Scott: It was-it was-Lucas.

Silas: See, Tay? Lucas is the type of people ya fightin’ for?

There is nothing that Taylor can say, her mind both shattered by the visual of a blood soaked Scott, and the revelation that Knight was behind this.

Silas’ eyes become consumed with the face of Kelcey, who he stoops down to address, talking over the barely conscious Cannon.

Silas: Ya know what ya have to do, Baby-Doll.

Much like her best friend, Kelcey is incommunicado, doing all her talking with body language. She nods.

SPENCER KLEIN VS. FRANKIE PARADISE

Spencer: Here we are, Orlando…

No body language will be needed to convey Spencer’s point, using his microphone to convey his point, and the ring as his soapbox. Aaron Harrison, Mika Kozlov and Lukas Montgomery lean against the ropes, listening to Spencer and watching the stage. Referee Fitzpatrick doesn’t watch the stage, he watches his own back when in the ring surrounded by the Blacklist who have summoned him.

Dollar: Spencer in the ring….

Sparkles: Right alongside Mika’s tight ass.

Greyson: Please don’t let Harrison hear you say that.

Sparkles: What’s he gonna do, send those twenty-seven Blacklist members after us again?

Dollar: Enough banter already, we’re about to see a possible Frankie Paradise, Spencer Klein showdown, so collect yourselves and get ready.

No amount of preparation will ready for the commentators or the crowd for what is about to follow.

Spencer: What will it be gentlemen? Will you, Orlando, find it in your heart to finally forgive and trust Franklin? Or will you continue to harbor these grudges that gnaw at your core like a festering tumor?

It’s not going to take x-rays or an oncologist to answer this question. Paradise is ready to hand deliver a response…emphasis on the hand part, hence his clinched fist. Yet Orlando is not willing to let Frankie put those fists where they belong, down Spencer’s throat….The two linger in the gorilla position, just inches removed from the curtains.

Orlando: In what world are you living on, Franklin?

Frankie: Planet Frankie…where everything is gravy-baby…and I get to kick some Blacklist ass all night long.

Orlando: You just expect me to suddenly up and trust you? To let you go to that ring and represent MY interests? NO WAY!!

Frankie: Like it or not, Cruzey, that’s what’s gonna happen….cause it’s what NEEDS to happen. You want Harrison, and I want to see you two get your hands on one another, and this is the only way to make that match a possibility. So just deal, bro.

Deal? Not something Orlando does best….especially when it comes to the Blacklist.

Orlando: Franklin….I’m sorry….

Frankie: Wow….I’m touched…But I can be just as big a man as you and admit to my own wrong doings. So I totes apologize too. So sorry for ya’know, helping to royally bone your life.

Orlando: Wait, I’m not apologizing for the things we’ve done to each other in the past. I’m apologizing for what I’m about to do to you right now.

A giant shove is given to Paradise, sending him staggering into a crate that was set up behind his knees. Paradise spills right over top of it, and lands hard on his back, incapacitating him. The second Paradise hits the concrete, Orlando hits the ramp but is about to hit something else…not with a shove…. But with the full force of his wrath.

Harrison: Orlando, how can either of us expect to move on with our lives if you continue to cling to these hostilities?

It’s Harrison’s turn to bait an Icon, pacing beside an increasingly impatient Spencer in the ring.

Harrison: You have to find it in your heart to forgive? Otherwise, we’re just going to keep playing this same song and dance over and over again. Neither of us will find closure if you don’t….

Orlando has his own idea of closure, involving his closed fists They presently dangle at his sides as he storms through the curtains, and prepares to bring the thunder to the Blacklist.

Dollar: That’s not Frankie Paradise.

Sparkles: Unless he shaved all his hair, changed his ethnicity and grew about five feet.

Dollar: Orlando Cruze isn’t about to trust Paradise to fight his battles for him.

The Icon is about to rain down his fury upon the heads of the Blacklist members, who anticipate his arrival with quite a bit of dread.

Harrison: What a surprise. You’re coming out here to employ your strong arm tactics yet again? This is no way to handle this matter, Cruze. Didn’t we make it clear that our contracts forbid you from FORCING us into matches, and besides, you won’t learn anything from coming to this ring and mindlessly fighting us. You’ll just end up in the same predicament you did on NewAge. You’ll force us to react, and you should know by now how we respond when our backs are up against the wall.

A fitting comment considering that they are speaking to a wall…none of their comments getting through to Orlando, who slides into the ring and strikes quicker than lightning. He rushes across the ring and spears Harrison straight to the ribs, taking his legs out from under him in the process.

Dollar: Harrison and Orlando coming to blows…this issue between the two exploding again.

Sparkles: I might explode too, at the sight of Mika Kozlov.

Greyson: If you don’t stop that….

One thing that will not stop, are the fists of Cruze that rain down on Harrison’s face over and over again. Finally Lukas intervenes, rushing across the ring and blasting the Icon’s temple with a big boot. Orlando is sent rolling…..rolling away from his victim and under the ropes…spilling…spilling unto the mats….then reaching…reaching right under the ring. Lukas is already sticking his head through the cables, then reaching down to wrap his hands around Orlando’s neck only to have a cane wrapped around his skull.

Dollar: The cane taking out Montgomery!

The devastating blow has devastating results on Montgomery’s brain, rattling it about in the confines of his skull. Orlando isn’t through unleashing his fury, which is more powerful than gale force winds. Already he’s back in the ring and swinging the cane into Montgomery’s ribs, doubling him over. He then turns with incredibly reflexes and slams the cane into the shoulder of an unbound Mika, sending her stumbling back into the cables.

Dollar: Look at this….

Sparkles: I am looking at her ass.

Dollar: I’m talking about Orlando taking out the Blacklist…This man will not stay down.

The cane knocks Mika back into the turnbuckle, and knocks Harrison into a fury. Orlando now faces the force of Harrison’s rage, which is more destructive than the force of a tornado. The Icon learns this when he turns and gets stabbed directly in the face with a silver fork. Harrison teaches the Icon a very harsh lesson by driving the weapon procured from his pocket into the Icon’s features.

Flesh is torn and a large gash is opened in Orlando’s face, leading to just what was predicted moments ago, more blood.

Greyson: So much for that.

Dollar: Harrison slamming Orlando straight in the face with that ghetto fork!

Sparkles: Ghetto fork? I don’t think Harrison has ever seen the inside of a ghetto, except when he probably watches Holocaust footage in his leisure time.

The sharpened prongs of the fork are bent after bouncing off Orlando’s skull and inflicting permanent damage on his flesh.

Speaking of damage…even more is about to be inflicted on Orlando’s already traumatized body. He rolls to his knees and suddenly gets slammed in the kidneys with a kendo-stick swung by Montgomery. The blow causes Orlando to pop up onto his knees just in time for Mika to swoop in, take him around the neck and snap back into a DDT.

Dollar: The numbers just too great an advantage over Orlando.

Sparkles: I feel your pain, Orlando. The same thing happened to me when I tried to take on Harrison.

Speaking of Harrison….even more blood is drawn from Cruze’s flesh when Aaron drops down, places him in a modified side headlock and begins to stab him over and over again to the forehead with the fork.

Spencer: Didn’t I warn you, Orlando? Didn’t I tell you weeks ago that you don’t know what the Blacklist is truly capable of? Don’t force us to show you what lengths we’ll truly go to. Accept Harrison’s apology and keep us from taking to the next level.

Next level? How much further can they take this?

We mind find out later, because presently Harrison is taking a breather, stepping away from the bloodied Orlando in order to check on Mika’s condition. He rubs her shoulder, which took a nasty shot from the cane. Kozlov calms Harrison down by rubbing his cheek…but Harrison’s anger is through the roof when he sees Cruze moving…No….not just moving, but trying to get up.

Dollar: I can’t believe Orlando is still trying to stand.

Orlando gets to his feet, albeit stooped forward, but his poor posture quickly corrected when Harrison takes the kendo-stick away from Montgomery and swings the weapon directly into Cruze’s spine. Orlando’s back straightens with the exception of the area curbed by this gruesome blow.

Spencer: Just stay down, Orlando…STAY DOWN and this lesson will end.

Another shot to the already aching back of Orlando, this one even louder and more destructive than the last.

And then there was a THIRD shot from the cane, and a fourth that FINALLY fells Orlando to the canvas below.

The cane is then tossed aside so that an annoyed Harrison can reconvene with his fellow Blacklist compatriots. The three join together in the squared circle and rejoice over the punishment inflicted on the President.

Spencer: I hope you’ve finally learned something from this experience Orlando…that you’ve learned something about humility, about forgiveness…about….

Spencer is noticeably surprised at the visual of Orlando FORCING himself up from the canvas. Even with blood dribbling down his face and his body racked wth pain, the Icon is STILL getting to his feet.

Sparkles: You got to be shit-kiddin’ me.

Dollar: Orlando is getting up AGAIN!

Greyson: When will he stop?

People have often described Cruze as indestructible….but now we’re about to find out just how indestructible he really is. He gets to his feet and Spencer unleashes a sigh before he reaches around behind his back and extracts a…a…TASER.

Dollar: Ooooh boy. The very weapon that Spencer used on Orlando at Invictus….it’s about to be put to use again.

But it won’t be used by Spencer. Instead he throws it into the waiting hand of Harrison.

Aaron crouches and prepares to finally put Orlando down with no possibility that he’ll get up this time. He steps forth with the intention of SHOCKING the Icon into submission, but it’s the Blacklist who ends up being shocked…shocked by Amanda Blayze.

Dollar: Blayze!

Sparkles: Yeah, I did that earlier…Oh wait, you’re talking about Amanda Blayze! Which is fitting, cause she’s SMOKIN hot.

Amanda pays it forward, sliding into the ring and to the aid of the man who has helped her out against the Blacklist over recent weeks. She does that by first avoiding running double axehandle by Mika, dropping down and low bridging the top rope, causing Kozlov’s momentum to carry her over it. She crashes to the mats and Amanda rises to her feet in the ring. She then employs one of those feet to crack Harrison in the temple. Aaron comes rushing right into the roundhouse kick that nearly spins his head into a complete 360.

The taser is dropped to the canvas and before Harrison can spill down alongside it, Orlando swoops in and cracks him to the jaw via the superkick.

Dollar: SUPERKICK unleashed by Orlando!!

Teeth threaten to fly from Harrison’s mouth, but his body DOES fly, fly right through the ropes.

The Icon follows, rolling out of the ring and continuing to assault Harrison.

Meanwhile Montgomery steps towards the taser, stooping forward to pick it up only to have Amanda charge in, jump onto his back, hook her legs around his waist then spike him on top of his head via the Blayze of Glory.

Dollar: And finally Amanda punctuates this attack by taking out Montgomery!

Greyson: I don’t think that was the kiss he was looking for a few weeks ago.

As Montgomery rolls out of the ring, Mika slides right back into it. Amanda turns just in time to be hit with a spear to the ribs, powering her backwards into the ropes as the two ladies spill through the cables and go crashing to the outside mats.

Dollar: Mika finally taking out Blayze….Those two are set to collide in that tag team match on NewAge.

The two hit the mats and trade blows, while Klein watches from the canvas. He shakes his head and throws his arms out to his sides.

Spencer: What will it take for people to finally start to understand that…

Frankie understands…understands this is just the right time to swoop in behind Klein, catch him around the thigh and drag him down into the school boy.

Fitzpatrick takes notice and finally steps out of his cowering position in the corner in order to make the count.

1

2

3

Dollar: AAAAYE!

Greyson: Did Frankie just?

Dollar: Yes! Yes he did!

An upset? No…that doesn’t even begin to describe what Paradise just pulled off.

He swooped in and rolled up Spencer and before Klein even had an opportunity to react to the count being made, he finds his ears reacting to the noise of a bell chiming.

His reactions remain delayed, overcome with an initial bout of shock that allows Paradise to escape the ring.

Dollar: Klein was so preoccupied with the beat down on Orlando and Amanda, that he didn’t even notice Frankie siding in behind him.

Greyson: Not until it was too late…too late to prevent Orlando from getting his one on one match against Harrison.

Dollar: And it’s all thanks to…..God, I almost find it hard to believe these words are coming out of my mouth….he owes it all to Paradise.

Frankie got the win, but now he’s got to get away from the coast before the hurricane hits. He rolls to the exterior of the ring just as Mika comes sliding back in, going right after him.

Mika: Get back here honey-bunny.

Paradise would normally answer the commands of a vivacious beauty, but not when it will potentially lead to a castration. So instead, Frankie flees to the backstage area, with Mika following every step of the way. Spencer and Montgomery do the same, the two rushing up the ramp and right along after the General Manager.

Sparkles: Those stubby little legs getting a lot of use as Frankie runs for his life.

Greyson: Run lil man run!

Frankie is running, and Orlando is still fighting. He and Harrison are going back and forth with a barrage of right hands that doesn’t take them down but brings them back into the ring. Harrison rolls in and Orlando follows, but while Aaron ends up on his knees, Cruze ends up on his feet and is about to put one directly into the Blacklist member’s temple.

Orlando stomps his foot and looks for a SECOND superkick, rushing across the ring order to deliver the blow but he finds his plans derailed.

He is forced to stop when Amanda rolls into the ring and backs across the canvas, her eyes focused on the curtains being passed through by Lukas, Mika and Frankie.

Distraction = NO GOOD FOR AMANDA.

This equation solved as Harrison reaches out, grabs Blayze by her waistband and pulls her in between himself and the inbound boot of Orlando.

Luckily Cruze’s previously mentioned reflexes prove advantageous yet again, as he stops mere seconds shy of connecting with Amanda’s chin via the superkick. However, he cannot stop Aaron from vacating the ring behind Blayze’s back.

Dollar: Aaron…this disgusting human being…just pulled Blayze in the way of the superkick and is getting out of here while he still can.

Greyson: What will it take to put Orlando down and KEEP him down?

Canes didn’t do it…a fork didn’t do it…not even his loss at Invictus has done it….Orlando is still coming, and won’t stop coming after Harrison, especially now that he has his match against Aaron at Extreme Fury.

This knowledge brings only a modicum of solace to the Icon, who turns and watches Harrison backing up the ramp, rubbing his jaw and emotionlessly gazing right back at Orlando. The two realize that everything is set, that all the cards are out of the deck and splayed across the table, all the game pieces are on the board, they are on their way to the one on one match that has seemingly been building since the day the IWC reopened its doors.

Dollar: Orlando has got what he wants, he’s got Harrison one on one at Extreme Fury.

Yes, Orlando, and possibly Harrison, have got what they want, but one person who has thus been slighted, is Amanda Blayze, who still feels unfulfilled.

Amanda: Orlando…I need to talk to you.

She grabs his shoulder and all but forces him to turn his eyes in her direction.

Amanda: I need answers, and you’re the only one who can give them to me.

Orlando: Bad timing.

Orlando can barely stand, let alone field these questions from Amanda….he needs to sit before he falls. So instead of putting Blayze’s questions to rest, he goes to find some rest of his own.

Amanda: I need to know if it’s true, I need to know if Brittany is really gone.

In spite of the desperation in Amanda’s voice, Orlando will not linger to give her answers….he’s making his way to the back and nothing will compel him to stop.

So now, Amanda stands in the ring, turning to observe the screaming Nottingham fans, many of which chanting her name.

Soon it’s not the screeching of ‘Amanda’ that fills the building, it’s Blayze’s voice. She grabs a microphone and backs to the center of the ring.

Amanda: You will answer my questions, Orlando….I will find out the truth…..and I’m not leaving this ring until I hear the truth from YOUR lips….I won’t go anywhere until I hear that Brittany Lohan is no longer part of this company.

Blayze sits Indian style in the middle of the ring, refusing to budge until her demands have been met.

Dollar: Is Amanda going to finally hear what she’s…what we’ve ALL been waiting to hear for weeks? Is Brittany gone?

Greyson: We’ll find that out here soon enough.

Sparkles: If you touch that dial, I’ll come in your house and make your dog lick peanut butter from my balls.

Greyson: I still have to sew those on you by the way.

Porno Lad: Let me out of this thing, ya hear me, let me out!

TPKid: Uh-oh….SHARP CURVE AHEAD! Hold onto ya butt!

The Pornomobile takes a very nasty curve between two adjoining corridors….made all the more precarious given the fact that the vehicle is traveling at top speed. This results in Porno Lad’s face being flung into the glass wall, his skull ricocheting from its bulletproof surface.

Porno Lad: GAH….GAH-DAMMIT!!

TPKid: That one had to hurt….but not as bad as this.

The car propels backwards and the breaks are yet again tested, screeching to a halt and launching the back of Porno Lad’s skull into the glass.

Porno Lad: I’m gonna tear you apart.

TPKid: You’ll have ya chance. Don’t cha get that? Just accept my challenge for a Steel Cage at Extreme Fury, that’s all you have to do and this will all be over.

Porno Lad: You can’t force me to do anything, you hear me, Nate.

This refusal only brings a broader grin to TPKid’s face, sounding better than Lynard Skynard blaring through a radio.

TPKid: Ya know what, Ethan? This lil’ vehicle of yas, it looks dirty to me? Maybe it needs a good washin’.

Porno Lad: I AM PORNO LAD, and I am not going to subject myself to a cage match against a brute like….wait…what did you say?

TPKid: I said this car of yours is filthy, needs a good washin’. So how about we take it down and give it a good scrubbin’.

A thousand watt light-bulb flashes above Kid’s skull, lighting an even toothier grin on his face.

TPKid: I heard there’s a big river around here….how about we take a joyride down there and get this car all cleaned up.

Porno Lad: You wouldn’t…You wouldn’t DARE!

TPKid: Don’t go wetting ya’self now, there’s gonna be plenty of time for that later.

The gas is hit, and Lad is sent flying back into the bulletproof wall, left to watch in fear as the Pornomobile speeds through the exit.

That same marker board…doodles, matches, skull indentations and all is presently being observed in the gorilla position by not one but two Rachels. Both Foxx and Frost stand side by side, emoting much of the same expression…disgust. Foxx’s upper lip twists into a gleam of repugnance as she observes the match scribbled onto tonight’s first SIN card….’Kitty Buehler versus Rachel Foxx.’

Foxx: Rach…

Frost: Yeah Foxxy?

Foxx: I think we need to call a staff meeting.

Amanda’s legs are folded beneath her in the ring, continuing to sit Indian style with microphone in hand.

Amanda: Orlando…just take five seconds…FIVE seconds to come back out here and confirm what I know and what the whole world already knows. Come out here and confirm it. Tell us that Brittany is pulling one big SWERVE!

Dollar: And the insanity just continues. Amanda Blayze inside of the ring STILL waiting for an official confirmation from Cruze regarding the ‘departure’ of Brittany Lohan.

Sparkles: DAYUM is she ever flexible.

Greyson: Don’t get started Sparkles.

Though her legs have probably gone numb on account of sitting Indian style for so long, Amanda will not leave the ring, not until this issue with Lohan has been put to bed.

Amanda: Would it really surprise anyone if Orlando comes through those curtains and announces that Lohan was NEVER fired? This is probably her worst set-up to date. Everyone can see right through it, because we all know what kind of person that Blue Eyed bully is. She’s a manipulator. I mean, for Christ sakes, she played with Alana Starr’s mind for MONTHS, making her jump through hoops, dance on top of flaming coals, all too finally get Brittany one on one at Invictus. Now she’s employing those same tactics against me. She’s making me agonize under the threat that all my hard-work in getting a match against her, was for nothing. Well I refuse to believe that…

The crowd has trouble swallowing this bitter pill as well.

Amanda: I refuse to believe ANYTHING we hear coming out of the Lohan camp. And until Orlando comes out here and tells me straight to my face that Lohan is gone, I’m still going to believe that she’s just trolling me. That’s why I’ve decided to give Brittany just the opportunity she’s been looking for, one she can’t possibly turn down. I’m giving her a chance to strike directly at my heart.

Sparkles: What’s Amanda babbling about? Can’ she remove her sports bra while she does it?

Amanda puts it all out there…VERBALLY.

Amanda: Earlier tonight I made a purchase with my trusty IPhone. I bought a front row ticket for our Manchester show. And the name on the account for that ticket, is Brittany Lohan!

Whazzah?

Amanda: This is your chance, Brittany. Enough with the games. Show up at NewAge, take your ticket and then sit directly at ringside so you can watch…watch what I do the Blacklist….and scout…scout what I’m going to bring into our war at Extreme Fury. You want to get into my head, this is the best way to do just that.

Finally Amanda stands up to add gravity to her words.

Amanda: But you need to know Brittany, that you can’t beat me with your mind-games. You tried to turn the locker-room and the fans against me, you tried to convince everyone that I was just like you, a cold-hearted bitch. You failed. And at Extreme Fury, you’ll fail again. I’m not like Alana, I won’t be toyed with…I won’t be trolled…I won’t be manipulated….I won’t….

Words suddenly begin to trail off when her eyes take notice of the hoodie sporting person who has just made their way through the crowd. They stop just behind the barricade, purposely turning their back towards the ring and towards Blayze….all to show off the giant ‘blue eye’ drawn onto the back of their apparel.

Amanda: I’m….I’m….

She just can’t bring herself to carry on when she sees the figure now turning just enough to throw a leg over the barricade.

Amanda: You couldn’t even wait until NewAge.

Blayze rolls to the outside of the ring and instantly pounces upon Brittany, throwing forearms and punches into them repeatedly. She then flips the spectator over onto the mats and begins to subject them to repeated stomps.

Dollar: Is that Brittany…is that Brittany Lohan!?!

Greyson: Whomever it is, their getting their ass kicked by Blayze.

Sparkles: She can kick my ass any day of the week.

The boots continue to drill the woman in the hoodie…and that woman isn’t Brittany Lohan…a fact confirmed the second the hood falls back and reveals the face of some unknown fan.

Dollar: That’s NOT Lohan!

A TRUTH that Amanda learns rather cruelly. She steps back with hands planted on top of her head and body surrounded by numerous security guards all adorned in ‘SIN’ t-shirts.

Sparkles: Amanda just assaulted some innocent fan. What kind of woman does that?

The Nottingham crowd asks that same question and now begin to boo Amanda after seeing her assault one of their own. Their jeers stab at Blayze like daggers and increase the tension she places on her hair…hair about to be ripped out of her skull.

Kordy: Is this making you hot, Marcus.

Mayfield wryly watches Kordy from his bound position on the chair. The annoyed grappler is forced to watch as Kordy is doing the ‘Elaine’ in front of him. Yes, the world’s most horrible dance that is more reminiscent of an epileptic seizure. And if that wasn’t tragic enough, Kordy is trying to shake her groove thing to the tunes of ‘Barbie Girl’ by Aqua.

Kordy: Just think, you could have all this hotness to yourself.

She says while spastically sashaying towards Marcus, and grabbing a feathery boa, one she uses to hook around the back of Mayfield’s neck. She tugs on the boa and pulls Mayfield’s face a little closer to her own.

Kordy: All you have to do first is tell Kordy who is under that mask.

Stockholm syndrome has definitely not kicked in.

Marcus: Dear, I think I’d rather choke on my own bowl movement than have my lips anywhere near yours. What is thar odor on your breath by the way.

Kordy: Oh, sorrys, Kordy had a great big chunk of gorgonzola cheese tonight. It went good with the grape-juice.

Polly, who had been lingering in the corner of the room this whole time, has heard enough, taking Marcus by the chin and pushing back his head rather forcefully. Both Mayfield and the chair spill back.

Kordy takes advantage of his position by leaping unto his chest, squatting down directly on top of it.

Kordy: If you won’t give Kordy answers, we’ll have to go and get them from Titty Pearson.

After standing up and making herself presentable, by way of adding the Tag Team Title to her shoulder, Kordy and Polly begin to vacate the room. Just before they leave Marcus stuck on his back like a turtle, the Champions turn to offer a parting comment.

Kordy: And to think you could have all of this.

The statement is punctuated by way of slapping herself on the behind.

Simon: How are you holding up?

Cagero asks this question to the barely conscious Whitman dragged along beside him. All feeling has been lost in many of Clarence’s extremities, hence why he leans so heavily upon the man who so ardently has been there to support him.

Simon: Looks like you need a few sips of Brandy, then you’ll be right as rain.

Speculates Simon as the two near the locker-room.

Whitman: No-no….

Whitman is finally coming around, and realizing who has assumed the role of his crutch.

Whitman: What are you doing?

Simon: Just helping out is all.

Whitman: Unhand me you fiend.

A stubborn Whitman pushes Simon back and falls against the wall as a result. Yes, Clarence would rather go down on his ass than accept the aid of the ASShole presently standing beside him.

Whitman: How many times must you be warned?

Simon: I know-I know, you want nothing to do with me.

Whitman: And yet you still will not listen you blooming bugger.

Simon: But we HAVE to talk Whitman.

Whitman: After all the damage you’ve done to my family, what makes you think I have even the slightest interest in hearing a single word from your filthy mouth?

Apparently causing the divorce of Whitman’s parents, and ATTEMPTING to sleep with Clarence’s wife on the night of their wedding, has made Simon a bit of a sore spot to Percival.

Who would have thunk it?

Simon: Listen fucker…you’re gonna listen and you’re gonna listen right now. I have to tell you something, and you ain’t gonna like it, but your gonna fucking deal with it.

At last Whitman listens, under coercion….and not just physical coercion either. He finds his back forced to a wall and his chest pinned under Cagero’s palm.

Simon: I’m just gonna be blunt about it…so brace yourself.

Whitman: Just get on with it then.

Simon: I….

Martin: Excuse me, Mr. Whitman.

A figure, who had been lingering about the outside of the locker-room, will do no more lingering. He steps right towards Whitman and Cagero, showing no qualms about interrupting their conversation.

Simon: Mother fucker! Can’t you see we’re talking here.

The sweater-vest wearing individual is shaken by this threatening outburst.

Martin: I do apologize. My name is Martin…Martin Cohle.

The outstretched hand is sneered at and not reciprocated with a shake by Cagero.

Simon: Dude, I don’t care if your Tawny Kitaen dancing half naked on the hood of a car….You don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking to my boy.

The outstretched hand of Cagero is slapped away from Whitman’s shoulder.

Whitman: Do not disrespect, Mr. Cohle. Unlike yourself, he is a valued and trusted member of my family. Not to mention quite the gifted therapist.

Simon: Therapist?

Whitman: Yes, he is helping me with a subject that does NOT concern you. Come along Martin, we have much to discuss.

The two begin to walk away in consultation.

Martin: So she still has no memory of that night?

Whitman: Yes, Lois has no recollection of our honeymoon whatsoever. She has no idea who she was in bed with that night.

Simon: Whitman, where are you going? I need to tell you something you little bastard!

Whitman and Martin can hear Simon shouting after them, but they don’t respond to him.

Simon: Get back here!

Nope…not happening.

Simon: FUCK!

The wall Whitman’s back WAS wedged against, now finds itself the recipient of a kick by Cagero’s boot.

Out go the lights with a flick of a switch as all eyes focus onto the stage, just then the screen lights up as the opening to Alpha King by Rev Theory begins to play over the P.A system. Then and only then we see a series of words in italic writing phase in and out on the big screen…

.Infamous.

.British.

.Legendary.

Spotlights all start to focus on the stage entrance now changing colors, shades of red, white and blue and during that time a silhouette of a man can be seen walking out onto the stage with a familiar aura of confidence. Just then the final words explode onto the tron causing the crowd to react accordingly as the music hit’s into full swing…

Dollar: Brace yourselves.

Sparkles: I already have my hand on my balls….or where my balls are supposed to be.

Dollar: Have your pace makers checked…This place is about to lose its shit.

Diapers might be necessary given the explosive reaction unleashed by the crowd at the sight of the legendary figure making his way through the curtains. Unlike Andre Jordan earlier tonight, Lucas Knight gets a reaction that would make Jon Cena do cartwheels in the ring. Lucas stands on the stage, and overlooks these teeming….crazed….frothing fans. He pauses on the stage to absorb this response and then finally descends upon the ring where the crowd is waiting to hinge on every single word that he might utter.

Dollar: Listen to this response from Knight here in his home country.

Sparkles: The pop he’s getting is almost bigger than my own.

No reaction could possibly top the reaction that Lucas is getting right now….a reaction that he has stop in the middle of the ring and let play out before he can even talk into the microphone. He just stands there, trying to give the crowd time to get this all out of their system, but they will not die out…their lungs might be empty, their throats might be sore, but the fans will die before they stop showering Knight with praise.

Sparkles: Are these people ever going to let Lucas speak?

Dollar: I have never heard anything like this before.

Although Knight can stand there all night and bask in this adulation, he’s got something on his mind that must be purged and can no longer be delayed.

Knight: Now that….(turns in a circle pointing towards the crowd)…is respect.

Dag-nabbit, his words only inspire the crowd to get louder….although they probably would pop even if he came out and reenacted the Ben Stein scene from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

Knight: That’s what I’ve been missing while competing over in the States. Where talent like my own goes largerly unappreciated by simple minded folk.

Controversial comments that only generate greater applause.

Knight: It is so refreshing to stand out here amidst a sophisticated and classy audience that understands that I am a man of immeasurable talent…and stardom befitting this type of praise.

And he only gets even MORE praise.

Fans: LUCAS…LUCAS…LUCAS!

Their reaction would bring a tear to Knight’s eye, but right now, he’s clouded with other emotions….primarily anger.

Knight: Unfortunately, audiences in the United States do not share your class, and the same can be said for many members of this roster. This evening in front of you ever so classy fans, I will defeat one of the men who has not shown me the recognition and respect that I rightfully deserve. Andre Jordan…

Knight pauses just to give the crowd time to bemoan Andre’s name.

Knight:…He has attempted to besmirch my reputation time and time again….He does not believe like you fans believe, that I am a GOOD man….And he’s right…I’m NOT a good man…I’m a GREAT man. I demonstrated that when I pinned his shoulders to the ring several weeks ago, and I shall give another example this evening, when my homecoming is punctuated by a sound victory over Jordan.

Fans: LUCAS…LUCAS…LUCAS

Knight smiles wide enough to fit the entire cast to the Facts of Life in his mouth.

Lucas: This victory will only be the beginning of GOOD times for man of international appeal. My tour of England begins with a huge victory over Andre, and it ends with an even grander victory, when in the middle of the 02 arena, I become the World Heavyweight Cham….

Kelcey: You think that’s going to happen do you?

Wallace is sick of a lot of things….and Lucas Knight is right at the top of her list….especially as he stands in the ring making a win over her best friend, Taylor Chase, sound like a foregone conclusion at Extreme Fury. Tonight Kelcey looks to erase that notion from Knight’s mind, by means of the steel chair currently griped in her palm.

Dollar: Not a PERFECT time to come out here, Kelcey.

Sparkles: There’s never a bad time for Kelcey to come out here…NEVER.

A number of factors influenced Kelcey’s arrival, be it her loyalty to Taylor, and the manipulation of Mason. As thus she is very inspired to enter the ring and step right up into Lucas’ grill, chair on the cusp of potentially shattering that grill.

Kelcey: I’m sorry, Lucas, but your homecoming isn’t going to end with you winning the World Heavyweight Title. Because Taylor, she’s not going to lose what’s most precious to her at Extreme Fury, nor will her belt be stolen from her tonight.

Knight: There is something I believe even the two of us can agree on. In spite of our differences, neither of us wish to see Ba’al leave her tonight with the World Heavyweight Championship. I couldn’t live with the notion that he not only corrupted the IWC to the point where he could swoop in, take it over, and rebrand it, and then do the same to the World Heavyweight Championship. It deserves prestige, it deserves honor, and it deserves entertainment…and once I’ve taken the title….

Kelcey: There you go again….Ba’al isn’t right about much, except for the way you keep overlooking Taylor, the way you keep disrespecting her, the way you constantly undermine her credibility.

Knight: I don’t undermine her reign or her credibility, it is her association with Silas Mason that is destroying her legacy.

Kelcey: You’re wrong, Silas is doing everything in his power to protect Taylor and to keep that World Title around her waist. YOU on the other hand have went out of your way to ensure Ba’al wins the Championship by taking out everyone who is trying to protect YOUR World Champion.

Knight: Scott got what was owed to him. I’ve rewatched the last edition of Riot!, I saw him take that chair to my spine…and while we’re on the subject, I also witnessed YOU, Kelcey, playing the part of victim. You, and Scott, played Taylor and I off of one another…tell me, who does that benefit? How do escalating tensions between Tay and I, help to protect her? You should know above any other, that making an enemy of me, is the single biggest mistake one can make.

Kelcey: All Silas has done is ensure that Taylor will be all that more animalistic, all that more monstrous, when she collides with you at Extreme Fury…He’s made sure that Taylor won’t make the same mistake that cost me the World Heavyweight Title….Thanks to Silas’ guidance, Taylor will not hold anything back against Ba’al, and especially not against you in that triple threat chairs match.

Knight: Since you bring it up…(points to the chair in her palm)…I can only assume you’ve brought along that chair to fulfill whatever twisted and depraved mission Silas has tasked you with this evening? Should I turn my back to make it more easy on you?

Knight turns his spine towards Kelcey, and the chair in her hand.

Knight: This is how Silas World conducts business is it not?

Wallace has abandoned many of her principles since siding with Silas, but she still will not take a chair to someone’s back, no matter how tempting the offer is.

Knight: Come now, Kelcey, you wouldn’t want to disappoint your manager would you?

Kelcey can’t help but to contemplate this rare opportunity. However, she still does not take the bait.

Knight: Don’t pretend to suddenly have a conscious. You sold that alongside any honor you once possessed when you signed with Silas World. SO either get on with it, or leave this ring so I can continue to talk with my fellow countrymen.

The bluff has been called, and apparently Kelcey does possess the honor that Lucas claims she has been striped of. She just begins to turn away from Knight, when another figure comes rolling into the ring, that individual being Mika Kozlov. And she has NO qualms whatsoever in using the chair on Knight’s back.

Dollar: What the hell is Mika doing out here AGAIN!?!

Sparkles: Making my eyes very happy.

Before Kelcey can react the chair is being swiped out of her hands and raised into position to crack Lucas right in the back. Which is exasctly what it would do if Wallace wasn’t still burdened by that pesky thing called a conscious. This moral filter leads Kelcey to snatch the chair out of Mika’s hands, and before Kozlov can grapple with what just happened, she finds the steel being swung directly at her skull.

Dollar: Kelcey gonna bash Mika in the head with that chair!

Mika definitely deserves it, but she doesn’t get it. She ducks in the nick of time, causing the chair in Kelcey’s hands to travel right into Lucas’ back.

Knight definitely deserves it, but he doesn’t get it. He turns in the nick of time and catches the chair before it can collide with his spine.

Greyson: But Knight has caught the chair.

Dollar: Turning just in time to implicate Kelcey Wallace.

The chair continues to find its way from one recipient to another, now being ripped right out of Wallace’s hands and then put directly into her ribcage. The top edge of the chair nails the Perfect 10 to the midsection before she could brace herself in anticipation. She then doubles over and Knight retracts the steel in anticipation of crushing her skull only to have his face destroyed…The moment he puts the chair in front of his skull, Mika comes diving in and delivers a dropkick to the steel, driving it back into Lucas’ head.

Dollar: Mika dropkicking the chair on Knight…Again…why is she in here?

Greyson: What is her business with Silas?

Right now Knight has found herself on the business end of a dropkick that has him twisting into the ropes and falling throat first against the middle cable. But Kelcey might suffer far worse as Mika steps in front of her kneeling body and begins to stroke the hair of an ailing Wallace.

Mika: Why can’t you just do what Silas tells you? I wouldn’t even be here if you just followed orders.

But Mika is about to regret being here the moment that her sister shows up. Taylor Chase comes bolting down the ramp and drops her World Title on the mats before sliding in under the cables. She then goes rushing right up behind Kozlov and leaps unto her with the ferocity of a woman at her absolute breaking point. Right now, the only thing being broken though, is Mika’s face under the influx of fists delivered by the World Champion.

Dollar: Taylor…Taylor all over Mika like a damned spider monkey!

Sparkles: This might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. And I once watched Swedish piss porn.

The fists go on being delivered to the cheeks of a stunned Kozlov.

Taylor: You burned my house! You hurt my husband! Stay away from my friends! Stay away from my family! And stay away from me!!

It might be kind of hard for Mika to get the message when her brain is inflaming thanks to the punches being unleashed by Chase.

Finally she stops raining down these blows once Mika has been incapacitated. This frees Chase to check on Kelcey’s condition, standing up and turning towards Wallace to ensure she’s not severally injured. Unfortunately, TAYLOR’S the one gravely injured….gravely injured by the steel chair swung directly into her skull by Lucas Knight.

Dollar: IIIIYYYAAAA!

Sparkles: CHAIR TO THE HEAD! CHAIR TO THE HEAD!

Dollar: Knight losing control of his senses and bashing our World Champion directly in her face with the steel.

Greyson: This guy has lost it.

No…what Knight just did was get retribution…retribution for the chair shot HE received from Taylor on the last Riot. After delivering the devastating blow, the chair is tossed aside by Knight, who steps back to survey all the damage that has been done.

Ba’al: What a surprising turn of events.

Knight spins around with such quickness that his neck might suffer whiplash. He finds his eyes glued to the face of Ba’al on the stage and the microphone in the number one contender’s palm.

Ba’al: I never thought I would hear myself say this, but THANK YOU LUCAS KNIGHT! Because your actions here, have all but guaranteed me the World Heavyweight Championship. Referee Stuart Wright, come here FORTH WITH, you have a title match to officiate.

Dollar: No….this can’t be.

Greyson: Taylor is going to have to defend her World Title, right now? Right after she got smacked in the skull with a friggin steel chair?

Sparkles: Heavens to betsies.

Knight’s brow has broken out into a sweat, and his face has turned blood red at the sight of Ba’al making his way down the ramp and referee Wright following behind. But the official isn’t the only one who accompanies Knight, because a legion of security guards clad in SIN t-shirts are also moving towards the squared circle and are now surrounding it….or more accurately surrounding Knight.

Ba’al: Take your leave Lucas, or you will be FORCED from it.

Knight isn’t about to go anywhere, he’s standing his ground for as long as he can. Security comes sliding in to get their hands on him, but it’s Lucas’ boots and fists that connect with each of their bodies.

Dollar: Look at this, Knight is fighting off security, he’s refusing to let them throw him out of the ring.

He fights them as long as he can, but eventually the sheer numbers are too much. They manage to apprehend his limbs and compel him from the ring under duress. The mob manages to force Knight to the outside mats and past the man descending upon the ring. The Prince of Sin turns his eyes only briefly towards Knight, merely to rub salt in his wound by way of a demented grin.

Dollar: Taylor to defend the World Heavyweight Championship to and to defend it right now. Words can’t even begin to describe just how disgusting this is.

Greyson: And we’re going to see it right after the break.

Sparkles: If you touch the dial, I’ll piss in your eye.

Jaina: Your masters are not pleased with your performances here tonight.

The heads of Jessica Wilde, Executioner, Jacob Laymon and Suzanne Moore and Billy Mayne are collectively hung in shame as they kneel before their pacing superior. Jaina makes circles around the, ike a shark closing in on its prey.

Jaina: You have sorely disappointed us, here on this auspicious debut of SIN.

Rachel Foxx: Don’t worry though.

Foxx steps into view, emerging from the shadows of the dimly lit office.

Foxx: Each of you will be gifted a chance to make it up to us tonight. You will have one final opportunity to please us….Starting with YOU, Billy.

Mayne looks up from the ground.

Jaina: It’s time for you to spread the gospel.

Jaina utters this while leaning in close to Billy’s ear and granting him the greatest honor by actually laying a hand upon his shoulder.

Jessica lingers in the backstage area. She won’t head out for her X-Class Championship bout until she’s had a chance to both finish lacing her boot, and talking to Marie Jones stood above her.

Lasiewicz: Truly, babe, you should have been out there with us.

Marie: I-I don’t think it would be right.

Lasiewicz: How do you figure?

Marie: Everything Kris put you and the rest of Apocalypse through, that was because of me.

Lasiewicz: Don’t go blaming yourself for what that crazy chick did.

Marie: I can’t help but to feel responsible. She only got away with this because I was too weak to stop her.

Lasiewicz: Don’t make a stink….You have nothing to fear, Marie. Kris is where she belongs, and your place, is with us, in Apocalypse.

Marie: I just don’t…

For once, it’s not her convolution of thoughts that gives Marie pause, it’s the contortion of her spine that shuts her up. A devastating shot from a steel bar connects with the back of Marie’s head and sends her twisting to the concrete. She lands beside the crouched Jessica, who takes her hands away from her boot laces, to grab her sister’s mangled neck. She quickly looks up towards Valentina Madison, who is backing away with the biggest of grins.

Valentina: One slut down….three more to go.

Lasiewicz: You bitch!

Jessica would give pursuit, but instead she’s too preoccupied cradling Marie’s injured head in her arms.

Valentina: Be seeing you in the ring tonight, if you can tear yourself away from your poor, WEAK sister.

Madison continues to back peddle from a woman who’s wrath will be untamable here tonight. The flames burning in Lasiewicz’s eyes cannot be doused, in spite of Marie’s words.

TAYLOR CHASE © VS. BA’AL:
WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE

Cameras return just in time to find Taylor Chase sitting in a corner holding her forehead and being overlooked by Stuart Wright. Obviously she is no condition whatsoever to compete here tonight after receiving a devastating blow from the steel chair just moments ago. Ba’al realizes this all too well, watching from the opposite corner as he gingerly teeters from one foot to the other.

Dollar: I cannot believe we’re actually going to see this happen…I can’t believe Taylor Chase is actually going to be forced to put her World Heavyweight Title on the line against Lucas and do it right now!

Greyson: This is a miscarriage of justice.

Sparkles: Speaking of miscarriages, I hope Marie Jones isn’t pregnant, cause she won’t be after that shot from the pine by Valentina.

Dollar: Bad things happening to people all over the building tonight.

Referee Wright continues to ‘pretend’ that he’s concerned with Tay’s condition, but he could care less. This is proven the moment Ba’al steps forth, grabs him by his striped shirt and turns him so that his ear is attune to the Prince of Sin’s demands.

Ba’al: Ring the bell.

Wright confirms he heard this demand and follows it to the letter. At Wright’s request the bell is rung and Ba’al descends upon Chase and closes in on her World Heavyweight Title. He grabs Chase by the hair, pulls her up from her seated position out of the corner and to the center of the ring. Taylor can barely stand up after that devastating blow to her skull, but she’s still up long enough for Ba’al to lunge into the air behind her, catch her around the neck and drop into the Totalis….

Dollar: Ba’al finishing Chas….NOOO!

To absolute SHOCK…Ba’al hits the canvas, but does not hit the Totalis. Kelcey…who remained at ringside this whole time, leaps to the apron, reaches over the ropes and grabs Taylor’s wrists, keeping her from being dragged down into the finishing move of Chase’s monstrous foe.

Dollar: AHHH…Kelcey…Kelcey evaded security, and she just helped Chase evade the Totalis.

Ba’al hits the canvas with such force that it rattles his brain and sends him rolling backwards to his knees….But it’s Chase’s knee everyone is preoccupied with. She turns, rushes across the ring and leaps into the air to deliver her finishing move…the TKO.

Dollar: TK…NOOOO!

Chase dives…dives knee first right into Ba’al’s SHOULDERS. He manages to stand up, catch the airborne Chase and throw her up onto into a powerbomb position. The fans screech at the top of their lungs as Ba’al rushes forward to deliver a running bomb only to have Chase give the Nottingham crowd even greater cause to squeal. She drops back into a hurricarana, flipping Ba’al over and into a pinning…no….Ba’al rolls through, catches Taylor’s legs, stands up and pushes her sideways unto her stomach. Ba’al then grabs her arms and flips forward, bridging back into the double chickenwing.

Dollar: Ba’al has got it…he’s got that Cattle Mutilation applied on Taylor.

Greyson: And after that chair shot to the head I would imagine she has no other recourse but to tap out.

Dollar: Hang in there Chase, hang in there. You’re reign can’t end like this…it just can’t.

But it will.

Chase lifts her hand into the air and finally prepares to give into all the haters, all the naysayers, all the critics. Ba’al is just about to take the title, before Kelcey tries to take her revenge. She slides into the ring with the chair in her hands once again, lifting the steel into the air and preparing to drive it into the bridging ribcage of the challenger.

Dollar: Kelcey in the ring with a chair!

Sparkles: Now put it down and dance around it.

She will put it down, but not for dancing purposes, instead she’s going to crack Ba’al’s midsection. However, Wright prevents that from happening. He jumps away from the submission and towards the interference, cutting off Kelcey and demanding she drop the chair. As Wallace and Wright are arguing over the illegal use of the chair….Silas is rushing down the ramp and capitalizing on this distraction. He slides into the ring and behind Wright’s back and scrambles towards the submission.

Dollar: It’s Silas…SILAS! I never thought I would be happy to see him.

Silas prepares to put a great big smile on everyone’s faces if he can prevent Ba’al from capturing the title. He’s about to do just that only to be cut off by the very man he targets. Ba’al stands up and rushes at Silas, sending Mason scrambling from the ring and scrambling from the ring in a hurry.

Dollar: Dammit Silas, you coward.

After chasing Silas away, Ba’al is free to turn back towards the match only to turn right into the TKO!

Dollar: OOOOH MY! TKO…TKO…TKO!!

Sparkles: Keep it in your pants, Johnny, Jesus-Christ.

The fans have a very mixed reaction, not giving the TKO the normal amount of fanfare given the twisted scene that unfolded between she and Knight before the break.

And speaking of breaks, Ba’al’s face may have just been broken by the collision with the canvas. However, Chase is unable to follow up, finding her head still in bad shape. In spite of being in so much pain, Chase manages to turn her shoulder from the canvas and drape it over Ba’al’s chest.

Dollar: Chase is going to retain, she’s going to retain right here in Nottingham England.

Wright finally notices the pin even while arguing with Kelcey, but he won’t make the count….not if he wants to keep his job he won’t. But now Kelcey grabs him by the throat and throws him down to the ring, demanding he DO his job, if he wants to keep his life.

Stuart grimaces but does as told, slapping the canvas.

1

2

NYOOO….Ba’al’s shoulder just barely escapes the ring to keep this match going.

Dollar: Kelcey made Wright do the count, but still Ba’al kicks out in time.

Sparkles: I don’t even think cray-cray properly even describes what we’re seeing here.

Right now Silas is going cray-cray at ringside, kicking the steps and thumping his palms off the apron. He is absolutely enlivened with rage at the sight of Ba’al kicking out, prolonging this World Title match. Taylor agonizingly begins to reach her feet with the aid of the cables and in spite of putting all her weight upon them she prepares to dive away from them right into the slowly rising Ba’al.

He staggers towards his feet, looking to be in even worse shape than the World Heavyweight Champion. Yet somehow he does it, he just manages to get up when Taylor lunges out of the ropes, catches him around the neck and snaps back into the Taylor-Made.

Dollar: That retained her the title at Invictus.

But it won’t here tonight, because Ba’al shoves Taylor off, sends her twisting through the air and landing throat first on the top rope. Her head bounces back and right into the Totalis.

Dollar: Totalis…Totalis delivered on Chase!

Greyson: I never saw it coming.

Dollar: And neither did Chase.

As inconceivable as it sounds, this is how Taylor Chase’s World Title reign might be on the verge of concluding. Ba’al crawls into the cover, hooks Chase’s leg and prepares to end her illustrious standing as the company’s champion.

1

2

Wright is just about to do it…he’s just about to slap the canvas for a third time…but Silas doesn’t give him that opportunity.

Dollar: SSSSIILLLAAASSS!

Mason pulls Stuart all the way to the outside of the ring and grabs him by the jersey, shaking him violently.

Silas: Ya ain’t gonna cost my Tay her title, ya hear that!?!

Wright won’t argue, he’ll just stand there like a deer caught in headlights. Eyes fixed on the furious face of Silas and his running lips barreling down upon him. What he should be watching is what’s going on in the ring though, because the moment Ba’al stands up to protest what is going on, Kelcey rushes into the ring, rushes across it, rushes into the Perfect Fate. She catches Ba’al around the neck, flips him over sideways and spikes him on the back of his head with the one arm swinging neckbreaker.

Dollar: KEEELLCCEEEEY!

Greyson: My goodness, she just laid out our challenger.

Wallace quickly rolls out of the ring just as Taylor regains enough of her mental capacity to recognize this advantageous opportunity. She crawls rather painstakingly across the ring and over Ba’al’s chest, hooking his legs in the process.

Dollar: This is…this HAS to be it…this HAS to be…

HENRY: PORTRAIT OF A SERIAL KILLER

The music throws the crowd into an even louder uproar. Their reaction becomes damn near lung exploding when Legion and Mr. Gaunt make their way to the stage and begin towards the ring which Silas is standing beside, the referee’s shirt still griped in his hands. And now, Silas’ face is griped with terror, eyes widened as he watches Legion descending down the ramp that HE stands at the edge of.

Dollar: LEEEEEGGGGIOON!

Greyson: I think he’s coming for Silas Mason.

Sparkles: Grab your bitches and run, Silas, run!!

The man who ‘possibly’ shafted Legion out of the World Championship at Invictus, now finds his throat clogged, and his eyes incredibly wide with fear. The encroaching Legion finally prompts Silas to release the official and go rushing towards Kelcey. Though Wallace wants to stay, Silas drags her away. The two jump the barricade with Wallace keeping Silas hidden behind her back, turning herself into a protective shield as the two step through the crowd.

The fans have a lot to focus on, both out amongst them, and especially in the ring, where Wright is making the count for Taylor.

Dollar: Chase is still on top of Ba’al….she’s still going for the pin to retain her title.

Greyson: Absolute insanity.

Wright’s hand connects with the canvas and Chase prepares to reconnect with her World Heavyweight Title.

1

2

Greater distance is put between herself and the championship when Ba’al’s shoulder leaps out from under Chase’s body.

Dollar: STILL…Still Ba’al manages to kick out!

Sparkles: Good GOD how much longer are these two going to continue playing with my fragile emotions.

Apparently it won’t be much longer, not if Taylor has her say. She grabs Ba’al around the neck and turns him to his knees then rushes backwards into the ropes in the process of snapping her knee…which will soon slap Ba’al’s face. She springs off the ropes, rushes across the ring and is just about to dive into a devastating blow only to have Ba’al duck at the very last second.

Taylor’s knee goes flying right over her target, causing her to land behind the twisting Ba’al, who turns right into position to deliver the Totalis. He rushes forward, lunges towards Taylor’s back and is about to catch her around the neck only to instead find HIMSELF caught…caught right around the throat by LEGION!

Dollar: Legion’s got Ba’al!

No…he just doesn’t have Ba’al…because he’s also got Taylor.

The second Chase turns around she finds her throat engulfed in the opposite palm by the masked goliath, who prepares to destroy both champion and challenge with the same fatal maneuver.

Dollar: Legion is gonna chokeslam them…he’s gonna chokeslam them BOTH!

Or so that was his intent, because Ba’al and Taylor manage to simultaneously shirk their throats free from Legion’s grasp and dive through opposite ropes.

Dollar: But they got out of there…they got out of there before Legion could destroy them.

Ba’al and Chase may have avoided the wrath of Legion, but not the only other figure who stands in the ring with the monster. That man being Stuart Wright. Before the official can even protest and point to his officiating jersey, Legion snags him by the throat.

Ba’al: What is wrong with you!

An out of breath Ba’al still has enough oxygen left in his lungs to unload on Legion from the outside of the ring.

Ba’al: You unhand him and leave this ring immediately…Do you understand? I said leave the official be and make yourself scarce so that I can win the World Title. Otherwise, you will not like the ramifications.

Legion does what he’s notorious for, sticking it to the powers that be. This is accomplished here tonight as he heaves Wright up unto his shoulders.

Ba’al: Don’t you dare!

And now Legion dumps Wright directly on his skull with the Misery.

Dollar: Wright dumped on his skull with the MISERY!!

Everyone in the building is going ballistic, the fans with excitement, while Ba’al is going ballistic, with anger. Legion now stands over the motionless husk that is the body of Stuart Wright. Another body that is in bad shape, but not in the dire straits exhibited by Wright, is that of Taylor, who has been aided over the barrier and into the crowd alongside Silas and Kelcey. The trio now watches as Ba’al prepares to back up his ominous warnings aimed at Gaunt and the masked monster in the center of the ring.

Ba’al: Legion, you have been warned, and for once you WILL face consequences for your actions. As of this day henceforth, you and your advisor, Mr. Gaunt, are FIRED from SIN.

Dollar: WHAT!?!

Greyson: Legion and….and…Gaunt…they’re fired?

Instead of reacting with despair, a grin is brought to the face of Mr. Gaunt.

Axl Evermore is standing backstage with an indescribably huge smile on his face. And that grin only grows when Frankie Paradise comes scurrying towards him, ever so cautiously looking over his shoulder.

Axl: Frankie!

Paradise is just about to employ the dreaded crane kick posture before he realizes it’s Axl who addresses him, and not someone who wants to pull a Mortal Kombat finality by ripping his spine out through his mouth.

Frankie: Good lord….Axl don’t sneak up on me like that.

Axl: But YOU ran into me….never-mind. Just wanted to say, CONGRATULATIONS! Huge win over Spencer Klein tonight.

Frankie: Yep, just like every ass I’ve run across, I’ve dominated it. Spencer was no different. And now the Blacklist should think twice about crossing paths with the Frankie…

Orlando: FRANKIE!

Paradise suddenly grabs Evermore by the shirt and drags him in between himself and the approaching Cruze.

Evermore: Orlando….guess I should offer you some congratulations as well.

Clearly the Icon is through with banter, having his fill with banter between himself and these two gentlemen tonight.

Frankie: Orlando, please bro. I just survived a GRUELING, like hour long match against Spencer Klein….I don’t think I have enough left in my tank for another fight right now, even though stamina has never been an issue of mine.

Orlando: Enough Franklin….enough.

Paradise cringes and closes his eyes as Orlando clinches his fist and extends it.

Orlando: I’m about to do something I should have a LONG time ago.

The clinched fingers open so that Orlando can outstretch his palm. Instead of looking for a punch, Orlando is actually asking for a handshake. Tentatively Paradise opens his eyes and stares down at the hand stretched in his direction.

Orlando: Obviously I have trust issues, Franklin, but tonight, you really proved yourself. And…and…I owe you a big thanks…Because of you, I’ll get Aaron Harrison one on one at Extreme Fury…

Paradise is genuinely overcome with emotions as he reciprocates the handshake in an absolutely stunning visual.

Orlando: And thanks to you, I’m going to get Harrison in a Last Man Standing match.

HUGE!

Frankie: And if you’re going to war with Harrison in Last Man Standing, I want to be there to make sure everything goes by the book. I want my own redemption for Invictus. I want to be the special guest referee.

EVEN HUGER!

BEFORE THE BREAK

A screen still of Lucas Knight swinging a chair into the skull of Taylor Chase.

Dollar: Ladies and gentlemen…well…before the break….I don’t even know how to describe what we just witnessed.

Sparkles: It was total FUBAR peeps.

Dollar: For once, Sparkles, you’re pretty accurate. It all started when Lucas Knight and Taylor Chase crossed paths in the ring and Taylor’s head crossed paths with a steel chair.

Greyson: Revenge for the chair shot Taylor gave Lucas on the last Riot!

Dollar: Indeed, and it was a chair shot that Ba’al capitalized upon by starting his World Title match scheduled against Taylor Chase.

Greyson: Determined to ROB Chase of the title.

Ba’al comes very close to doing just that after Lucas was removed by security from the ringside area. Knight’s departure leaves Ba’al and Taylor to fight it out of for the championship in a back and forth encounter featuring a number of mitigating circumstances, from Kelcey Wallace’s interference, to Silas Mason’s intervention, culminating to the arrival of Legion. Who is instrumental in at last getting the title bout thrown out by method of delivering the Misery on referee Stuart Wright.

Dollar: Chase and Ba’al battled it out in a thrilling affair, but it all ended when Legion came out here and got some retribution against both Silas World AND the Sinistry.

Greyson: But he ended up costing himself DEARLY.

Shortly after the Misery is delivered, Ba’al grabs a microphone and makes a declaration that has the fans weeping.

Ba’al: Legion, you have been warned, and for once you WILL face consequences for your actions. As of this day henceforth, you and your advisor, Mr. Gaunt, are FIRED from SIN.

Mr. Gaunt approaches the car placed in the parking lot, Silence positioned behind the wheel on the cusp of speeding him away from the building.

Katelyn: Mr. Gaunt….

An anxious Buehler comes rushing up behind Mr. Gaunt, stopping him just shy of opening the backdoor to his car.

Mr. Gaunt: Mrs. Buehler?

Katelyn: Where…where are you going?

She gestures between Gaunt and the door latch he has his fingers wrapped about.

Mr. Gaunt: Anywhere that is not here.

Katelyn: But Gaunt, tell me you’re not…you’re not just gonna take this.

Mr. Gaunt: Mrs. Buehler, tell me when I’ve EVER followed the edict of the corrupted powers that be. Rest easy my dear, my firing allows the Black Crusade to operate outside the jurisdictions of this company, and that will prove quite devastating to Mr. Lord of Flies, and his Halfling cohort.

The crowd has to get over the trauma of what happened before the break and do so in a hurry, because already they have to grapple with the presence of Kordy and Polly. The lovely Tag Team Champions occupy the center of the ring, gold fixed to their shoulders and grimaces stretched over their faces.

Kordy: How dare you, Marcus Mayfield….how dare you distract us from the plight of our Big Daddy, Porno Lad.

Dollar: Yes-yes, Legion and Gaunt were canned before the break, and if that wasn’t nearly as traumatizing enough, now we’ve got the Harem in the ring.

Sparkles: My dreams have just come true….it’s KORDY!! Greyson, give me my bib.

The crowd is still screeching in retaliation to Kordy’s comments.

Kordy: Seriously Marcus, you’re nothing but a dirty old pervert…how dare you put the moves on Kordy…I’m just a sweet, innocent lil girl. Kordy is sick to death of the way you and Kattty-Kat, have tried to manipulate the Harem. First Katty McBoob gets some unfair advantage by getting to name a MYSTERY partner for her Tag Team Title match against us at Extreme Fury….and THEN, you old man Mayfield, try to use my affectionate to distract me from the plight of the Harem’s Big Daddy. The whole lot of you are disgusting and reprehensible people….

Reprehensible? No…Vengeful? YES….

It takes little more prodding to get a reaction out of the slighted Kathryn Pearson and her masked compatriot.

Dollar: Here they come! The challengers for the Tag Team Titles at Extreme Fury are coming to get themselves some of the Harem.

Sparkles: Keep your hands off my Kordy.

The Tag Team Champions are not about to run from this opportunity to fight Pearson and her partner. The moment Kat and her associate slide into the ring, the Harem are on them like Sally Struethers on a kitkat bar.

Dollar: Here we go!

Indeed, it’s ON!

The Masked Lady gets a shot to the jaw but reacts with a blow all her own straight to Kordy’s cheek. Polly responds with forearms to the multiple strikes delivered to her ribs by Pearson.

The crowd is just going bonkers as this brawl proceeds, highlighted by an big step up enzugari delivered right to the back of Polly’s skull, sending her twisting right into a big leaping spinning heel kick by the masked lady. Norah goes crashing to the canvas with the Masked Lady rolling past her to her feet. Pearson steps in and takes her partner’s palm, helping her up to her feet as the two interlock hands. They then wait for Polly to stand, and once she does, the challengers for the Tag Team Titles bolt across the ring and deliver a stereo lariat to her throat that sends her flipping up and over the cables.

Dollar: The X-Class Champion and her partner, they just eliminated Polly…

Greyson: But look out!

Pearson and Partner have little time to rejoice over taking out Polly, because a fraction of a second afterwards, in rushes Kordy…with a tag team title belt…a tag team title belt cracking Pearson in the back of her skull.

Kathryn is sent spiraling through the ropes as a result of this collision, grabbing at the back of her split skull.

Sparkles: Can Kordy help being so awesome?

Dollar: Belt to the back of Pearson’s head…This is not good….This is not good whatsoever considering she has to defend her X-Class Title tonight.

Kathryn’s Mystery Partner retaliates on her friend’s behalf, throwing a punch at Kordy that connects with her cheek and sends her spiraling to the outside of the ring. The Masked Lady is right behind her, leaping off the apron into a forearm that connects between Kordy’s shoulder blades. Price is staggered to the edge of the ramp with her assailant right on top of her, delivering forearm after forearm after forearm to her cheek.

It isn’t until Polly interferes that this assault ends. She rushes in behind Kathryn and blasts her between the shoulder blades with a double axehandle, doubling her over. This puts her skull in perfect position not for a strike but for a removal of her mask. Polly and Kordy grab and rip at the laces that hold the mask in place, determined to tear it off.

Dollar: HEY! The Harem are trying to rip off the mask….They’re trying to tear it right off of her skull.

Greyson: They’ve been determined to reveal her identity for weeks now….and they’re finally going to get that opportunity.

Sparkles: Yes, come on, let’s find out if her face matches her body.

The crowd is screeching their guts out, some wanting to see the mask removed, others not wanting the Harem to get their way.

Before the Harem can at last reveal the identity of Pearson’s partner, Mayfield intervenes.

Dollar: Marcus Mayfield on his way out here!

Sparkles: Who united that lecherous old perv?

By the looks of the duct tape shackles that now hang from his wrists, it appears that Mayfield managed to somehow gnaw his way out of the straps. He hasn’t even had time to remove the gag hanging from around his neck, before he comes dashing down the ramp into a forearm right to the cheek of Norah.

Polly twists away and Kordy rushes towards Mayfield only to get blasted to the chest with a knife edge chop. She is sent staggering back frm a vengeful Mayfield…staggering back into the waiting arms of the Masked Lady, who spins her around and cracks her across the cheek with a forearm.

Dollar: Mayfield evening up the odds…but I think he’s too late…too late to prevent the damage that has just been done to Kathryn Pearson.

Kat is TRTING to push herself up from the mats, but has no such luck, landing right back on her face.

Dollar: Kathryn has to defend her X-Class Title here in a matter of moments…But she is in no condition to do it….

Greyson: First Taylor, and now Kat, the champions all facing uphill battles here tonight.

Axl Evermore actually seems to be in high spirits as he makes his way down the corridor, pleased by the sight of the peace pact formed between Paradise and Orlando.

Harrison: Excuse me, Mr. Evermore.

Those high spirits go crashing to an all time low when Evermore finds himself staring into the face of the New-Breed. Harrison approaches in front of Evermore…..but bringing up the rear is someone equally as intimidating.

Spencer: Might we trouble you for a word?

Obviously Evermore can’t say no, especially when the microphone is all but being taken from his hnad by Klein, and his neck is being hooked by the crease of Harrison’s elbow.

Axl: What can I do for you guys?

Spencer: You can start by providing the fans an interview with two gentlemen they TRULY wish to hear from. Two men who once again were shafted by the remorseless and unforgiving Icon.

Axl: Ummm, sure.

Harrison: Go ahead and ask us our feelings on what happened out there a few moments ago.

Axl: Okay, how do you two feel about Frankie pinning Spenc…

Spencer: We’re NOT going to comment on that, Evermore. And frankly, we’re insulted that you would even bring it up.

Harrison: Now ask how we feel about the Last Man Standing challenge by Orlando Cruze.

Axl: Fine, do you intend to accept Orlando’s chall….

Spencer: You should not condone such idiocy from Orlando, Evermore, by giving him a platform to make such ridiculous challenges.

Evermore sighs, not enjoying being toyed with whatsoever.

Spencer: BUT…we WILL agree to this Last Man Standing stipulation IF, I….Spencer Klein…forbearer of the Blacklist legacy, be added as the special guest referee.

The horn of the Pornomobile is honked, which produces the tune of Everybody by the Backstreet Boys. However, Porno Lad is producing a different tune as he screams from the protective bubble that surrounds him.

Porno Lad: Let me out of this thing, Nate, seriously, I’ve got to piss so bad I can taste it.

TPKid: Sorry, no pit-stops….

Several onlookers from the sidewalks watch as the Pornomobile pulls past them with Porno Lad now clinching his legs together to tighten his sphincter. The vehicle is now steering throught he streets of Nottingham, maneuvering through traffic.

TPKid: We’re on a tight schedule, Ethan, gotta get to Trent River before the end of the show.

KATHRYN PEARSON © VS. MYA DENTON VS. VALENTINA MADISON VS. JESSICA LASIEWICZ

Kneeling in the ring is where we find Kathryn Pearson, leaning against the ropes and continuing to grip the back of her skull thanks to that blow from the belt.

Greyson: Do you think TPKid would actually dump the Pornomobile into Trent River?

Dollar: Given what these two have done to each other over the past few months, I wouldn’t put anything past either of them. Anyway, before the break we witnessed a truly condemnable act as Kordy attacked Kathryn Pearson with the Tag Team Title belt….

Greyson: Which one can presume will not bode well for her X-Class Title defense in mere moments.

Dollar: She is definitely not in good shape.

Pearson continues to grip the swollen knot on the back of her skull, that is going to burst like a pustule should Valentina Madison get her way. The lyrics of “Sick” are playing over the speakers, as Valentina makes her way to the stage and prepares to do just that, split Pearson’s head.

Dollar: Valentina is the last person that Kathryn wants to see right now. There is no low that Madison will not stoop to, especially when a championship is now on the line.

Greyson: We saw what she did to Marie Jones moments ago. Who knows what she’s going to do to an injured Kathryn now?

Sparkles: She’s gonna rip Pearson apart, and start with her clothes….PLEASE.

Valentina, standing on the stage in her modified Northwestern University jacket, cannot help but to smile and lick her lips in anticipation of getting her hands on the X-Class Champion. The moment she takes to linger on the stage and relish in this opportunity, proves absolutely devastating. Instead of sinking her claws into Kathryn, she finds her jacket caught in the clutches of Jessica Lasiewicz. The sick minded Valentina finds her mind scrambled the moment she’s spun into a forearm to the temple.

Dollar: Lasiewicz..Lasiewicz attacking Madison on the stage!!

Greyson: More payback here tonight.

Retribution for Marie is achieved by forearm after forearm after forearm, punch after punch after punch, kick after kick after kick, all of which delivered by a vengeful Jessica. Each one of these blows has Valentina more staggered and more stumbled as she goes spiraling down the ramp and towards the ring. She finally finds her stomach wedged to Lasiewicz’s shoulder, and her own spine driven back into the steel stairs.

Valentina barely has time to react to this collision with the steps before Lasiewicz uses the positioning of her body to wrap arms around Madison’s waist then snap back. She delivers a gutwrench suplex that slams Madison’s back into the entirely too thin protective mats.

Dollar: Jessica, the Lady Gambit, mercilessly assaulting Valentina….She’s tearing her limb from limb at the moment.

Sparkles: Why can’t she start with tearing the clothes!?! Am I asking too much?

Lasiewicz now drags Valentina up to her feet, scoops her up onto her shoulder and then drops her down face first across the steps. Madison’s skull bounces back and her body twists to the mats, now finding herself seated with back propped against the steps in a seated position. Lasiewicz then comes rushing in and dives knee first directly into Madison’s face, driving the back of her skull right into the stairs.

Dollar: Oh man….Valentina’s head crushed between Lasiewicz’s knee and the steel steps…Jessica past her breaking point.

Sparkles: Bitch has lost it.

Black and maroon lights flash around the stage at this point as “I Don’t Care” by Fallout Boy brings the fourth piece in this game to the board. The final challenger for the X-Class Championship skips through the curtains and down the ramp, Mya smiling rather twistedly towards the fans in attendance.

Dollar: Here comes yet another odd ball….Mya Denton.

Sparkles: Yeah, cause we haven’t reached our crazy quota for the evening.

Dollar: I tried to talk to her earlier tonight, but it was impossible. She kept asking me why I was calling her Mya and obsessively touching my hair. Finally I just had to walk away.

Sparkles: Whoa, whoa, whoa, you mean to tell me you were being fondled by Mya and you walked away? You’re the one who’s crazy.

Mya continues to skip towards the ring, but in actually she skipped right along into a vicious lariat to the throat delivered by Lasiewicz.

Dollar: But Jessica..Jessica taking out Mya as well.

Sparkles: Woman is just attacking anything that moves right now.

After taking Mya down with the lariat, Jessica begins to subject her to stomp after stomp. She then turns to put her boots to the body of Valentina, only to be caught by the waistband. From her knees Madison drops back, pulling Jessica down shoulder first into the steel steps.

Dollar: Oh man, Jessica couldn’t keep this onslaught going forever.

After bouncing from the steel, Jessica ricochets off and goes rolling across the mats to the edge of the ramp. Valentina, bell rung and all, manages to collect herself and then collect Lasiewiz’s head into her arms. She turns Jessica onto her back across the ramp and then pulls up on her ears before driving the back of her skull into the steel. The incredibly aggressive Valentina pulls up on Jessica’s head and slams it down into the ramp again, and again and again.

Dollar: Stop this…stop this….somebody pull Valentina off of Jessica already. This is sick. She’s going to fracture her skull.

The back of Lasiewicz’s head hits the steel one more time, leaving her totally incapacitated. Her eyes listlessly look towards the lights but are not registering anything at the moment. Valentina then stands up and backs away with a macabre grin on her face. She then turns just as Pearson comes flying over the top rope into a senton plancha. She connects directly with Madison’s shoulder, knocking both ladies down to the mats.

Dollar: PEARSON AIRBORNE!

Greyson: My stars, how did she manage to pull that off?

Sparkles: Midol?

After hitting this senton, Kathryn rolls to her knees and grips the back of her head, still reeling from that blow with the tag team title belt. She won’t let it debilitate her though, hell-bent and determined to continue fighting and to continue reigning as the X-Class Champion. She stands up, sinks her hands into the air of Valentina and begins to deliver repeated knee strikes directly to her face.

Pearson then rolls Madison into the ring and follows along behind her, about to capitalize on that game changing senton. But try as she may, that knock on her noggin is just keeping Pearson from performing at one hundred percent, evident as she sluggishly pulls herself up onto the apron and now tries to climb through the ropes. She only gets about half way through before Mya comes rushing across the ring and catches the X-Class Champion around the head with a swinging neckbreaker.

Greyson: That’s not going to do any favors for Kat’s head.

Dollar: No it isn’t, and Mya has to reaize that.

After delivering the neckbreaker, Mya rushes along to her feet, just in time to spot an addled Lasiewicz desperately clawing her way up to the apron. A slight bit of blood can be seen dripping down Jessica’s back, emanating from a gash opened up under her hair. In spite of this she manages to get to her feet on the apron only to be taken off of them when Mya goes flipping over the ropes, over Lasiewicz’s back and then pulls her down into a sunset flip powerbomb. Denton’s spine cracks against the mats and her head takes the brunt of the impact.

Dollar: Ohhh…and now Denton takes out Lasiewicz too!

Sparkles: With a NASTAY drop on the mats.

After laying out Lasiewicz across the mats, Mya rushes across them, putting some distance between herself and the laid out Jessica. Denton then closes the gap, rushing forward and flipping into a standing senton bomb right across Lasiewicz’s ribs.

The crowd applauds this move but notice that Jessica can barely respond to it…in fact, she’s barely responsive at all, not after having her head repeatedly cracked against the ramp in such vile fashion by Valentina….The very same woman currently crawling into a lateral press on Pearson.

Dollar: Look at this, Valentina is about to take advantage of Denton’s work.

Greyson: We might have a new X-Class Champion crowned here tonight.

Referee Ingelson slides into position and makes the count to the protest of the audience.

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Dollar: Is Valentina gonna weasel her way to the title?

That answer is a definitive….no….Kat manages to get her shoulder up and turn away from Valentina in the process. Madison gathers herself and gets to her feet, albeit in a crouch, all to set up for the Wildcat Crusher.

Dollar: Valentina is looking for what I believe to be the Wildcat Crusher.

Greyson: If she hits this on the injured skull of Pearson, it’s got to be over for her.

As Pearson inches to her feet, Valentina dashes her way to the X-Class Championship. She rushes across the ring, lunges into the air and wedges both of her knees to Kathryn’s face, about to drop back into her rendition of the code-breaker.

But instead it’s a back stabber that connects. In mid-air Valentina is yanked down out of the code-breaker by Mya into the double knees back breaker.

Dollar: Where did Mya just come from!?!

Sparkles: Valentina’s back broken. If she needs it massaged, I’m accredited in massage therapy.

Greyson: You took a fifteen minute on-line course for crying out loud.

Valentina sits up twitching on the canvas before Kathryn staggers forward, catches her by the knees and flips forward into a jackknife cover.

Pearson takes advantage of Mya’s work and could potentially retain the X-Class Title.

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Mya isn’t about to let the match end under these circumstances. She grabs Kat by the ankle, lifts up on her leg and sends her rolling over backwards. She flips back off of the body of Valentina and onto her seat across the canvas while Mya steps around behind her. Denton drops down, hooks her arm and her hands around Pearson’s chin, applying a modified abdominal seated abdominal stretch.

Just when it seems that Denton might be closing in on the X-Class Championship, here comes Valentina with a running knee strike, one that connects with the faces of BOTH Kathryn AND Mya.

Dollar: Valentina taking out two with one blow!

Although there is plenty of action to observe inside of the ring, there is also quite a bit going on outside of it that deserves attention. Jessica no longer lays alone across the mats, now being checked over by several EMTs.

Dollar: It looks like Lasiewicz might be legitimately hurt.

Greyson: Well she did take an absolutely nasty landing on the back of her head with that sunset flip thingamajig…plus Valentina bashed her skull repeatedly into that rampway.

Dollar: Jessica might not be able to compete in this match as a result. She might seriously be injured.

As the commentators continue to speculate about Jessica’s condition, the EMTs attempt to confirm it. In the meanwhile, the woman who put Jessica in such bad shape might be closing in on the X-Class Championship. Valentina grabs Pearson by the hair, rolls her along to her feet and is now hooking both of her arms, placing her in a butterfly lock. It seems that Madison is about to hit some powerful maneuver from this position only to have Mya come running in, wrapping her arms around Pearson’s waist and pushing her forward, forward right into Madison’s stomach. All three ladies charge into the ropes with Valentina’s back hitting the cables as she tried to hold onto the butterfly lock. As a result she ends up crashing through the cables to the apron while Mya manages to roll Pearson back into a pin.

Kathryn ends up folded up under Denton, who is seated across the back of Pearson’s thighs.

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Dollar: Roll up by Denton…

Sparkles; But which one of her personalities is going to win the title?

Apparently neither of them if Valentina has her own way. She comes rushing back into the fray, launching her knee directly into Mya’s face. But this time Denton has it scouted, managing to catch the inbound leg, hook Madison around the crease of the knee then perform an inside leg trip on Valentina’s planted foot. Madison collapses to her back, Mya rolls her to her stomach then drops down and applies a bow and arrow stretch. Denton falls over backwards and elevates Valentina in the air, draped across her knees with her back bent in an incredibly awkward position.

Dollar: Bow and arrow…a textbook and time tested submission.

Mya continues to impress but is soon overshadowed when Pearson comes rushing in and performs a standing moonsault crashing down right across Valentina’s ribs while she was still elevated into the bow and arrow.

Dollar: SICK….sick move!

Greyson: I don’t even think Valentina is going to be able to breath after that.

Sparkles: Then let me give her mouth to mouth, I am certified in CPR.

Greyson: Again, you took a five minute on-line course…while you were also looking up stupid youtube videos.

Dollar: Gentlemen, I think we’ve all had ENOUGH dumb Youtube videos for one night.

Valentina rolls around on the ring holding her ribs AND her back, considering both areas were badly damaged by that combination maneuver.

Madison’s ailments might work to Mya’s benefit. She crawls seductively across the ring into the cover, hooking Valentina’s leg with a great big smile on her face.

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That grin is removed the moment that Pearson scrambles in, grabs Mya by the wrist, drags her away from the pin and over onto her feet then wedges a boot under her chin.

Dollar: Pearson is gonna go for the Cool It, Bitch!

Pearson is just about to snap back into her version of the Eat Defeet, only to have Mya push the boot away from her chin, sending Kathryn twisting away. She only twists for a moment before she goes rolling….rolling backwards thanks to Mya.

Denton manages to roll Pearson over backwards into a pin, ending up seated across the back of Kathryn’s thighs, the champion folded up beneath her on the cusp of losing her title

Or at least she would if Kathryn hadn’t rolled all the way through, ending up on her knees beside Denton, who she manages to push forward…..forward right into the seated Valentina, who uses Mya’s own momentum to drag her down into a small package.

Dollar: Kat shoving Mya right along into the pin.

Sparkles: That’s right, tangle each other up…good girls….now give one another a spanking…mmmm….Sparkles likes.

The small package could be Valentina’s ticket to the title.

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Pearson manages to tear that ticket up by way of rushing across the ring and diving into the air. Her back is extended and then dropped across the ribcages of both ladies, breaking up the pinfall attempt and inflicting punishment on them simultaneously.

Dollar: Pearson again using her own body to thwart this pinfal.

Sparkles: She can throw her body at me any time she wants to. I’ll just go and draw a target where she can hit me.

Greyson: Why are you writing where your crotch is supposed to be?

Sparkles: Are you made that I’m writing there, or that I’m using your marker to do it?

Even Pearson was hurt a little by that last dive, but she continues to overcome the multiple blows to her body and the pre-match shots on the head to reach her feet. She then turns and spots Valentina and Mya struggling to their feet, prompting her to step in and alternate forearms between both of their cheeks. She nails Denton with a forearm, then turns and does the same to Madison, thoroughly wearing out her competition. She then spins in a full circle and delivers a lariat to Mya, and once she’s sure that Denton is down, Pearson spirals around into another discus lariat, this one connecting with Valentina.

Dollar: You really got to take your hat off to Pearson in this match.

Sparkles: Can I take my pants off instead?

After laying out both ladies Pearson turns her focus to the turnbuckle, looking to take advantage of their prone positions. She staggers towards the turnbuckle, climbs to the top and looks on the verge of delivering a moonsault.

Referee Ingelson is so fixated on Kathryn about to go airborne that he doesn’t even notice Valentina lifting her boot and wedging it to his backside before its too late to stop from being pushed into Pearson.

The top of his head cracks Kathryn in her backside and as a result sends her tumbling to the mats, where she tries to land on her feet but ultimately splatters the ground.

Dollar: The referee just kicked by Madison into Pearson, knocking her fro the turnbuckle into a big nasty landing.

Sparkles: I’m big…and I can be daaamned nasty for Valentina.

An aggravated Ingelson is laying into Madison for her treacherous tactics but then finds himself on the verge of being laid out. Why? Because Valentina grabs him and employs him as a human shield, holding his body between her and the incoming Mya.

Denton’s fist stops just shy of a cringing Ingelson’s face, stopping just before she could black his eye.

A potential beating on Ingelson and a disqualification is avoided by Denton, who throws aside the official and her inhibitions. She is ready to unload on Valentina only to have her ribs cracked by that knee to the mid-section.

Denton is doubled over and Madison is taking her by the wrist, whipping her along with her all her strength into the ropes. She anticipates Denton coming back in, but not under these circumstances.

An eager Madison rushes forward to lay out Denton only to have Mya drop down on her own accord, so she can baseball slide right through her opponent’s legs. She then stands up, rushes back into the ropes, bonces off and comes back in at Valentina, who spins around into a lariat that is ducked by Mya.

But she doesn’t just duck to avoid the clothesline…she ducks so that she can use her momentum to carry her into a dive through the ropes. She goes crashing into Kathryn at ringside, knocking both athletes to the mats amidst a loud roar from the crowd.

Dollar: Mya diving and CRASHING into Kathryn…

Greyson: Bodies just flying everywhere.

Sparkles: Can one of you drop out here in front of me? Please! Just close enough for me to get a whiff of you, that’s all I’m asking.

It won’t be Sparkles that Valentina dives into, it will be her two opponents at ringside. She hops up and down in anticipation of taking a big leap to the outside and taking out both the recovering Mya and Kathryn. Unfortunately neither lady knows calamity awaits them as they stand up, throwing forearms and keeping their focus off the graver threat.

Valentina slaps her hands above her head, getting the crowd riled up before she takes off across the ring and prepares to deliver a dazzling dive.

It seems she’s about to give the crowd a stain in their underpants, before she stops just short of the ropes and instead of leaping either over or through them, decides to give the crowd an up yours gesture.

Dollar: Damn…Valentina just trolled all of us.

Greyson: Guess she’s not one to pander to the crowd.

Instead of leaping through the ropes, Madison puts her legs between them, sitting on the middle cable while her feet travel into the shoulders of Pearson and Denton.

The collision of boots stops the onslaught of forearms, Kat and Mya ceasing their conflict to recover from the assault of the Wildcat.

Now that she’s taken out both opponents, Valentina sits on the middle rope and continues to aggravate the fans by making pantomiming rubbing tears from her eyes.

Valentina: Awww…did everyone want to see me jump around like a vanilla midget? I think not.

The boots that cracked into Kathryn and Mya are used to carry Valentina back to the center of the ring.

Valentina: Unlike all these bitches, I’m not just some plastic bimbo without a shred of charisma. I actually using my fucking brain instead of double D tits.

Mya, throbbing shoulder and all, has heard enough, sliding into the ring and going right after Valentina. But she lets her emotions get the better of her…PERHAPS….because Madison rushes to cut her off with a lariat…However, Mya manages to drop into a baseball slide right through Valentina’s legs. She then hops to her feet and goes charging at Madison, who turns into another lariat that Mya TRIES to duck. This counter is exactly what Valentina was counting on, catching Mya by the head and the waistband, and turning her momentum into bad news for Denton AND Pearson.

Kathryn was just pulling herself up onto the apron when Valentina throws Mya shoulder first through the ropes into the gut of the X-Class Champion. Kathryn goes crashing off the apron and tumbling to the mats while Mya comes staggering back into a Scorpion Death Drop version of the reverse DDT.

Sparkles: This bitch is something else.

Dollar: Valentina managing to use her opponents against each other to get the advantage.

Greyson: And she hasn’t stopped talking the entire time.

Sparkles: Bitch can back it up though, Greyson.

One of Valentina’s victims just went down, but another is rising. EMTs have successfully aided Lasiewicz to her feet at ringside, even if her legs can bare zero weight and look to have the strength of Twizzlers.

Another woman who is having trouble standing, is Kathryn, who agonizingly rises to her feet with the aid of the barricade. She turns the steel into a crutch, doubling over it and getting several pats on the back by some touchy, feely fans.

But the crowd’s attempt to grope Pearson would probably be more welcomed than what follows.

What follows being Valentina scooping Mya up onto her shoulder, rushing her across the ring and throwing her over the top rope via a scoop slam right on top of Pearson on the mats down below.

Greyson: Oh wow!

Dollar: Valentina just THREW Denton down on top of Pearson…this woman truly does not care who she hurts.

Greyson: Anyone who stands between her and the title is going to get hurt.

Valentina indiscriminately lashes out at the world around her, be it physically, or verbally.

Valentina: The woman of this company need to stop inflating their tits, stop posting pictures of their bare asses on Instagram, and start improving their talents. Otherwise, they will never EVER be able to match my skill…Just like you two sluts have just learned…

Valentina points over the cables at the X-Class Champion and the mentally unhinged Denton.

Valentina: And just like that ginger-twat just found out..

She points to Lasiewicz, who SUDDENLY seems to find some renewed strength in her lower extremities.

It seems that Madison’s words are inspiring rather than discouraging…breaking Pearson out of her daze. She climbs up onto the apron and tries to get further but Madison cuts her off…or more accurately, it’s Valentina’s forearm. She rushes across the ring and throws it over the ropes only to have Pearson side step the blow. As a result of her missed shot, Valentina finds herself leaning over the top rope just long enough for Pearson to rush across the apron and deliver a big kick straight to her face.

Valentina staggers back to the center of the ring, swinging her arms to remain upright while Kathryn prepares to put Madison down and put her down for good. She springs to the top rope and is about to fly off…mission accomplished….Pearson does fly….but it’s not the flight manifesto she had intended.

Ingelson is once again snatched hold of and shoved by Valentina into the ropes Pearson is standing on top of. As a result Kat has to leapfrog the official and the moment she lands on the mats, Valentina is there to blast her in the face with Wildcat Crusher.

Sparkles: And she’s a sophisticated chick too…I like sophisticated chicks…especially ones who like to show off their tits.

Dollar: Madison may have just hit the very move that will make her an X-Class Champion.

Pearson lies on her back in anticipation of being pinned, while Valentina rests on her knees, in anticipation of covering the champion and taking her title.

Madison: THIS is your X-Class Champion? Tits and tattoos here? What a joke? She’s more pathetic than that ‘woe is me’ bitch I laid out in the back a few seconds ago.

The numb legs and weak spine of Lasiewicz spring back to life. Her legs straighten and her spine erects as she turns dazed, yet fuming eyes towards the ring. Finally she begins to push aside the EMTs and stagger towards the squared circle….towards her rival…towards this vile Valentina.

Dollar: Lasiewicz refusing to be helped to the back…there’s only one place she’s headed and one target she’s after.

Sparkles: The one I drew on my…

Dollar: Noooo, Sparkles…the woman who attacked her sister before this match.

All of Valentina’s bragging proceeds undaunted by the sudden shift in the crowd’s reaction.

Madison: It’s time for an X-Class Champion to be crowned who truly embodies CLASS!

At last Valentina stops speaking and goes for the pin. She puts her hands down directly on top of Kathryn’s heart, smiling with eyes closed in an expression of utter reverence.

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The hand was just about to come down for that third and decisive count when a set of hands wrap around Valentina’s ankle and drag her from the squared circle….saving the X-Class Championship….costing Valentina the title…and bringing Madison’s face into position for the repeated closed fists of Lasiewicz.

Dollar: Valentina seemingly had the X-Class Title won, but Jessica just broke it up and now she’s breaking up Madison’s face.

Greyson: Sweet…sweet retaliation.

The closed fists continue to connect with Valentina’s face, bruising and busting her features. Each fist swung by Jessica is delivered on behalf of Marie, on behalf of Jessica, on behalf of every fan forced to listen to Madison’s insulting words.

Insult has been replaced by assault, Lasiewicz unloading her total and complete fury on the woman who has laid her out so many times in recent weeks. The right hands have Madison shocked and staggered back into the barricade, leaning on it for support. But that support turns out to be her undoing.

Lasiewicz unleashes a roar…..a primal one at that as she cuts the distance between herself and Valentina, then cuts Madison’s head from her shoulders with a clothesline….one that carries the two over the barricade into the crowd.

Dollar: Lasiewicz destroying Valentina with that clothesline!

Greyson: These two really do hate each other.

The Nottingham crowd continues to go nuts based on what’s happening out amongst them, and what’s occurring in the ring. Mya slides in, looks around to make sure the coast is clear and then swoops towards the laid out Pearson.

Dollar: This is your opportunity Mya, take it…TAKE IT!

Denton does just that, she scrambles across the ring, drags Pearson’s leg up and hooks it.

The fans watch with baited breaths as the official makes the count.

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And there will be no three, because Pearson keeps her title by launching her shoulder free from the ring.

Dollar: Mya almost took advantage of Valentina’s Wildcat Crusher to win the title.

Greyson: ALMOST!

Mya sits up on the canvas gnawing at her lower lip and asking herself how much more the champion can take. She’s now determined to find out the answer to that question by dragging Kathryn up and into a front chancery. She is just about to snap back into what looks to be the envenflow DDT but Pearson manages to surprise her…surprise her by wedging hands to Denton’s ribs and shoving her back into the ropes.

Mya bounces off and comes back in at Kat, who catches her with a tilt a whirl….into the Black Widow submission hold…the Black Widow submission hold applied by Mya!

She counters into the modified abdominal stretch that has Kathryn’s entire body going numb and going numb rapidly. She falls straight to her knees as the strain becomes too much for her to bare.

Dollar: Mya has got Kathryn all twisted up here, and it looks like Pearson only have two options, either she taps out, or she passes out.

Sparkles: I’ll revive her.

Pearson continues to descend towards the canvas, body drained of every last bit of fight and strength that it once possessed. Mya feels Pearson’s strength fading, yet intensifies the pressure on the hold.

Dollar: Denton…Denton on the verge of becoming the X-Class Champion.

The Nottingham crowd watches as close as they possibly can without jumping the barricades and being at ringside. They intently view Pearson’s hands waiting to see if she’s going to tap out..Many watch her lips, anticipating seeing her utter the words ‘I Quit.’

But that hand gesture never happens, and that single powerful declaration of submission is never uttered. Instead Pearson bites her lip, balls up her hands into fists and rises back to her feet, even with the entire weight of Mya wrapped around her.

Dollar: This is unreal.

In an absolute testament of Pearson’s perseverance, she manages to reach her feet and shove Denton off the hold.

Mya collapses to her back with a stunned expression on her face, but it’s Kathryn who ends up being stunned. She turns, rushes at Mya and connects with her head…because her head gets caught by Denton and spiked down to the canvas with an evenflow DDT.

Dollar: DDT planting Pearson right on her head.

Fatigue is setting in on Mya, yet she still manages to hook Kathryn’s leg.

Again the fans find themselves watching with baited breaths.

1

2

They finally breath again in order to unleash an emotional response when Pearson gets her shoulder up.

Dollar: Mya seemingly had the title won there, but Pearson manages to kick out again.

Greyson: We certainly are learning quite a bit about the characters of both Mya Denton and Kathryn Pearson in this match.

Dollar: The only two surviving members of this match considering that Valentina was taken out by Lasiewicz.

The Nottingham crowd has started a Pearson chanted, one that antagonizes Mya to the point where she actually starts to shiver. Yes, Denton is shaking in the middle of the ring. Soon her quivering fingers move to her hair, running through the raven locks and pulling away some strands.

Mya: This is why you need me? This is why I’m here…to put away challenges like this, Mya…challenges YOU can’t overcome.

Sparkles: Who the hell is she talking to?

Dollar: This is the same thing she did backstage when I TRIED speaking with her. Al she did was kept jabbering to herself and repeating the name, April.

To say Mya is a bit crazy, is like implying that Tony Montana enjoys cocaine in moderation. She methodically gets to her knees, eyes so intensely focused on Pearson that her pupils are almost ripping out of their sockets.

Mya: Come to April, sweet girl…come to me..

Pearson is doing just that, but not even realizing that she’s walking right into the spider’s web. She stands, albeit with little use left of her limbs, and turns, albeit with little mobility remaining in her body. Her head falls right into the clutches of Denton, who smiles as she prepares to unleash the Cra-Cra.

Mya: Poor…poor innocent little girl.

She takes a moment to stroke the X-Class Champion’s hair then flips back into the standing Shiranui.

Well…she gets the flip part right..but not the Shiranui..Instead, she lands on her feet…and not just her feet, but the raised foot of Pearson as well. Kathryn manages to turn her body just enough to counter the Cra-Cra into the Cool It, Bitch!

Dollar: AMAZING COUNTER!

Sparkles: DAAAAYYYUUMM!

The crowd are equally as expressive of their delight as the version of Eat Deafeet connects and puts Mya on her back. Only her legs are elevated, and they are only elevated because Pearson is hooking them for the three count.

1

2

3

The place comes unglued as Pearson manages…manages…manages to do it!

Dollar: The Cool It, Bitch, has just helped Kathryn do it again.

Greyson: She retains the X-Class Championship in an odds defying performance.

Dollar: Couldn’t have said it any better myself.

Sparkles: I could, but mostly because I would be inserting random observations about Pearson’s ass.

The fans are happy-happy-joy-joy, Pearson giving them all cause for celebration…and she did it by retaining her title in yet another extremely hard fought bout.

When the X-Class Championship is placed on her shoulder she truly has cause to embrace it, having come so incredibly close to losing it here tonight. She clutches the championship tight to her chest, but she has no time to truly celebrate this moment, because her attention is divided between the title and the woman clapping on the stage.

Dollar: What in the world? Why is…why is…Alana Starr out here?

Sparkles: She couldn’t get enough of my animal magnetism obviously.

The Good Girl stares at the woman whom she’s badmouthed…or bad fingered…wait…that sounds horrible…okay…the woman she insulted over Twitter. But instead of insulting her with words tonight, Alana insults Pearson with a half-hearted, insincere clap.

Marie: How bad is it?

”Surly” Sam: I think you’ll survive.

The downright ancient trainer puts literally no effort into his bedside manner. He’s here to do nothing but his job, which presently entails checking the knot on the back of Marie’s head. She stoops forward from the cot so he can get a better view of it with his flashlight.

Marie: Really? No amputations needed then?

”Surly” Sam: Grrr…no.

Marie: That was a joke.

She says flipping her hair back over the knot.

”Surly” Sam: Yeah, and this is me laughing.

The Trainer replies without a note of emotion in his face. However, Marie wears emotion on her sleeve, especially when Silverwolf comes walking into the scene, overlooking Jones.

Silverwolf: How ya doing kid?

Marie: Not good…..the Trainer here says I need to work on my sense of humor.

Silverwolf: Maybe that knock on your head will help you in that department.

Marie: Speaking of which, I did take a pretty nasty bump on the ole’ noggin. So I hope you being here in a hallucination and that you’re actually at ringside to watch Jess’s back.

Silverwolf: Nope, this is me, flesh and blood. Besides, Jess can handle herself in matches like these…she wanted Valentina all to herself.

Marie: I hope she got her.

Marie notices that Aerik is still standing there.

Marie: Was there something more?

Silverwolf: Yeah, where were you earlier?

Marie: What do you mean?

Silverwolf: How come you weren’t in the ring with us to commemorate Apocalypse’s official IWC birth?

Marie: I…I…didn’t think you’d want me to be there.

Silverwolf: Seriously?

Marie: After what I allowed Kris to do to you…I just couldn’t live…

Silverwolf: You know what, KILL that noise right now! You are not responsible for what Kris did, and I don’t hold any grudges against you….

Marie: You should…

Billy: How fortuitous.

The grungy Billy Mayne steps forth and grabs the attention of Walker and Jones.

Billy: What rare luck to find you two together, for I bare an important message for both the Phoenix and the Silverwolf from your new Bosses.

Silverwolf: Their no Bosses of ours, Chief.

Marie: So save your breath and take a long walk off a short cliff.

Billy: I will, because I know that my employers would be there to catch me. If only you exhibited the same faith in Sinistry, but the two of you are non-believers. However, perhaps my announcement will inspire you to accept the Sinistry’s enlightenment, for I am here to inform you, that at Extreme Fury, by decree of Desmond Drake, Aerik Walker will defend his NHB Title Number One Contendership against Marie Jones, in a Tables Are Legal match.

Kelcey: I hate to speak out of line here, but what was that all about, Silas?

Mason paces the room in front of Taylor Chase and Scott Cannon, both of which seated on the floor recovering from their nagging injuries. And speaking of nagging, that’s just what Kelcey is doing towards the man who traverses the rug of the office they’ve commandeered.

Silas: What do ya mean, Doll-Baby?

Kelcey: I’m just trying to understand what’s going on. I mean, what is this whole thing between you and Mika all about?

Silas: Are you questioning my tactics?

Kelcey: No…no…that’s not…

Taylor: I think that’s a question that needs answered, Silas.

Standing up makes her light-headed but Taylor straightens up nevertheless.

Taylor: What’s going on between you and Mika?

Silas: My arrangements with ya lovely lil sis, is none of ya business.

Taylor: Are you kidding me…?

Silas: Just trust that everything I do, is for ya greater good, Baby-Girl.

Taylor: I find it hard to believe that when…

Silas: Oh my…what we got here?

A piece of paper is extracted from the interior of Silas’ jacket.

Silas: Could it be? Why yes it is…yes it is…it’s the restrainin’ order tween you and Kelcey.

The mere mention of this document acts like duct tape slapped over Taylor’s mouth.

Silas: You two need to trust me…If Kelcey had, she’d still be World Champion, and as long as ya do, Tay, I’ll make sure that title stays over ya shoulder past Extreme Fury and for years to come.

Once Silas sees Taylor’s defeated eyes lower to the ground, he puts the restraining order back into his pocket.

Silas: Now Kelcey, Scott. We still got a job to do.

A scream brings us back to the ring with a sense of urgency…Cameras instantly cutting to the man bedecked in a mask featuring the number 12 emblem, and track suit that also displays this number. More important however, is who follows behind him….that who being Tabitha Silverstone…being dragged long by her bound wrist.

Dollar: Look at this….Tabitha is being coerced out here by one of her former clients…and…oh god…look who’s bringing up the rear.

All avenues of escape are denied to Tabitha, because William Mason is trailing right behind her, grin as smug as ever.

Sparkles: It’s my home-boy, Mason!

Greyson: Oh please, the two of you had a five second conversation where you tried to get Mason to fund your ‘Pants Optional’ Yoga Studio.

Silverstone claws at the hand of the man dragging her up the steps and forcing her into the ring along behind him. Eventually she is tossed down to the canvas on her knees, where she rubs her red wrist and wears an expression of sheer malice. Mason taps a microphone to make sure it’s working as he starts up the steps to the apron then into the ring then straight to Tabitha’s side.

William: I regret that things between Andre and I had to escalate this quickly. Normally I’m not a man who engages in borderline criminal activities like these. But I guess I’m stooping to Jordan’s level. In order to beat a criminal, you have to become one. That’s why you’re here, Tabitha.

Her lip curls when hearing HER name come through Mason’s lips.

William: He abducted MY Evolution Title, and now I’ve abducted you. So I think a fair trade is in order here. I get the belt I was shafted out of on NewAge, and YOU get to leave this ring before your FORMER client exacts retribution on you.

Twelve is already cracking his knuckles in the corner a few feet away.

William: It’s only fair, isn’t it? I thought so….

William crouches beside the kneeling Tabitha.

William: Now tell your client to come out here and hand over my championship.

The mic is held towards her lips.

Tabitha: I have a better idea…how about you and that masked low-life find a room and…

William: Tabitha…

The mic is held back from her lips.

William: There’s no reason to be impolite. Simply call out for Andre…

Apparently she won’t have to, because Andre has already seen enough…at least that’s what the Cartel-tron would have you believe. As it flashes to life, William spins around, glaring at the big screen that features the door reserved for Silverstone International.

This door flies open and through it passes Andre, who was watching on his big screen TV as this whole scene unfolded. Now he’s about to do more than watch, and chug down a can of Fresca. He immediately starts down the corridor, and prepares to force William to chug down Dre’s fists.

Greyson: Looks like Dre is on his way.

Dollar: Don’t do this Andre, you’re just playing right into Mason’s plans.

What those plans didn’t involve, is what unfolds next.

The moment Andre reaches the gorilla position is one that he will not forget.

Chase: GET HIM, KYLE, GET HIM!

With a comically oversized bandage wrapped around his skull, Black comes barreling shoulder fist into Andre’s ribs, charging Jordan’s back into a vertically stacked pile of steel bars. The cable holding the bars together snaps and causes them to come spilling down around and on top of Jordan’s body.

Dollar: It’s Kyle…Black attacking Andre Jordan…

Greyson: And it all looks to be under order of his manager.

The bars are swatted aside so that Kyle can get to the Evolution Championship and get his fists into Jordan’s face. And speaking of faces, Chase is currently scrubbing his own with a wash clothe, STILL trying to remove the stench of Bob’s backside.

Chase: Grab the belt…grab it!

Kyle: I’ve got it…I’ve got it!

Black emerges from the pile of steel with gold in hand.

The championship is thrown over Kyle’s shoulder as he backs towards his agent, who gives him a celebratory slap on the back.

Chase: Excellent work…now let’s get that belt to the ring.

They embark for the squared circle where an impatient Mason is waiting.

Back to William we cut…an aggravated and impatient William, who is pacing in front of the still seated and still enraged Tabitha.

It seems the stress Mason is under is not relived by the sight of Kyle Black and Adam Chase making their way through the curtains with the Evolution Title in their possession.

William: What the hell are you two doing? I didn’t give either of you permission to touch my championship!

In spite of William’s angry tone, Chase Global continues towards the ring, a microphone finding its way into Adam’s palm once they’ve reached the apron.

Chase: No you didn’t, but we’re taking a cue from your book, William, and we’re about to practice the lost art of bartering.

Finally the two are in the ring, and finally the Evolution Championship is within Mason’s grasp.

William: Just give me the belt.

A hand reaches out for the gold over Kyle’s shoulder but Black pulls back.

Kyle: I don’t think so.

The mic finds its way into Kyle’s hand while a frown finds its way to William’s face.

Kyle: Just how bad do you want the championship?

William: Don’t play games with me, Kyle.

Kyle: No-no-no…you obviously want this thing pretty badly…but just how badly? I think you want it bad enough to officially sign your name on this talent contract…

The document is procured from Chase’s jacket and handed to Kyle’s free palm.

Kyle: We will gladly give you the Evolution Title should you agree to sign with Chase Global.

Flabbergasted doesn’t even begin to describe William’s reaction.

William: I don’t agree with these types of strong-arm tactics.

Tabitha: Ahem.

William: Shut up Tabitha.

Kyle: You want the belt, you sign with us.

William: Uncle Adam, this is NOT how we conduct business in our family, but I guess you have me bent over a barrel.

The contract is taken into Mason’s hands as he begins to read over the finer derails. The huge grin that forms on Chase’s face is one of pride…

Andre: Don’t go signing anything yet, Will!

The huge frown that forms on Chase’s face is one of rage….

In spite of the injuries sustained to him moments ago, Andre Jordan makes his way to the stage.

Dollar: Andre Jordan not about to let this happen….not while he’s still drawing breaths.

Jordan is powered by righteous indignation but stil falls to his knees nevertheless. Though his legs lose ambulation, his fingers do not lose dexterity, maintaining a grip on the microphone.

Jordan: You sons of bitches let Tabitha out of that ring right now…

Tabitha stands up to leave only to have her wrist caught by Mason.

William: No-no-no..she’s not going anywhere until this transaction is complete.

Andre: In what world do any of you guys think this is going to be legally binding? You just can’t take a title and pretend that makes you the champion.

William: Who gave you permission to speak…no…to BREATH Jordan? But I guess you do bring up a valid point.

William throws Tabitha back into the waiting arms of the masked Twelve.

William: Dre, you’re going to officially relinquish the Evolution Championship, otherwise, you won’t like what happens to Silverstone.

Andre: Keep your hands off of her!

William: Twelve…you know what to do.

The Masked Man nods, takes Tabitha by the arm and promptly pitches her aside so that he can rush across the ring and deliver a straight punt to Kyle’s testicles.

Dollar: WTF!?!

Before William can even get over his surprise, Twelve is bouncing off the ropes and nailing Kyle with the Real Men Use Lariats.

Dollar: What the hell is going on!?!

The answer to that question becomes a bit clearer when Twelve enlightens us to his motives, snatching up the Evolution Championship dropped by Kyle then abandoning the ring. The barricade is leaped and the fans part for the fleeing Taylor.

Greyson: Twelve taking off with the Evolution Title.

Dollar: I don’t think that’s Twelve…Greyson.

William scrambles across the ring and reaches through the ropes after the departing Twelve, but can’t get his hands on him. Instead it’s Andre Jordan who gets his hands on Mason.

Or more precisely, Jordan gets his BOOTS on Mason, putting them into William’s backside with a dropkick that sends him flying through the ropes.

William won’t be the last person that Andre takes from the ring, he promptly rushes to Tabitha, grabs her by the wrist and begins to guide her from harm’s way.

Dollar: Dre trying to get Tabitha out of here.

Dre tries…but Chase isn’t letting that happen. The super-agent grabs Silverstone’s opposite wrist, tugging on the arm of the woman he’s been involved in quite the battle of oneuppersonship the last few months.

Chase: We didn’t give you permission to leave just yet.

Jordan raises his fist, but doesn’t have a chance to deliver a blow, before Adam is letting go and racing out of harm’s way.

Andre displays a greater sense of urgency, grabbing Tabitha around the waist and desperately pulling her out of the ring. Once Silverstone makes eye contact with her client, she begins to calm down.

Andre: Get out of here Tabitha, get out of here now.

It takes quite a bit of prompting to get Silverstone to cooperate, but after taking a chill-pill, she follows up by taking a sequester from the ring. She leaves the ring with Jordan watching her every step, making sure she is well protected. Silverstone only takes one second to turn around and confirm that she’s safe, but instead what she confirms is her worse fears.

Tabitha: WATCH OUT!

In spite of the warning, Andre has no time to react as he’s spun around hit with a boot to the ribs and pulled into the Perfect Driver by Mason.

Dollar: Jordan was distracted for too long and it just cost the Evolution Champion.

Sparkles: My Boy Mason lays him out.

Jordan is on the canvas twitching while Mason stands above him sneering. But a sneer isn’t the only thing Mason is going to do. He grabs Andre around the neck, leads him along to his knees and prepares for another Perfect Driver.

Dollar: You’ve done enough Mason.

Darko agrees, hence why he’s barreling down the ramp and barreling down on Mason.

From the corner of his eye Mason catches a glimpse of Darko sliding into the ring, prompting William to release the Evolution Champion and take his leave of the ring. He dives out of the squared circle and up the ramp with Danny following behind.

Dollar: Darko pursuing Mason….But William is hitting the open road.

Greyson: Darko isn’t about to let him get away that easy.

And speaking of not getting off easily, Andre looks like he’s going to be fighting a big uphill battle. He lies on the canvas griping the back of his neck while Tabitha grips her hair, realizing that Andre is no shape for competition and yet he is about to fight in his biggest singles match to date.

Dollar: Andre is supposed to take on Lucas Knight, but he doesn’t look to be in the shape to do it.

Greyson: Jeez, first Taylor, then Katelyn, and now Jordan?

Dollar: All of our champions facing steep uphill battles here tonight.

Greyson: But in Andre’s case, he might be facing the steepest.

TPKid: Ahhh, what a beautiful river.

The Pornomobile is parked mere inches from the River Trent. The vehicle, the driver, and the trapped Porno Lad are halted on a dock.

TPKid: Smell that air…ain’t it refreshin?

Porno Lad: All I smell is desperation.

TPKid: Nah…I think that’s Axe Body Spray..

Replies Nate while sniffing his armpits.

Porno Lad: You’re a desperate fool, Nate. You can’t coerce me into this cage match with your idle threats.

TPKid: Idle?

Porno Lad: That’s right. Bluff called, bitch. I know you’re not about to put me in that river…You won’t go that far.

A sigh followed by a solemn hanging of TPKid’s head.

TPKid: You’re right, Ethan, you’re right.

Porno Lad: Am I ever wrong? Now open this door and let me go.

TPKid: I said you’re right…The OLD Nate, he would have done all of this just to put a few stains in your undershorts, but I’m a changed man….And you’re the one who changed me from a good man, to a desperate man.

He steps out of the driver’s seat and reveals a steel bar in his hand, one he threatens to wedge to the currently parked Pornomobile.

Porno Lad: What…what are you doing?

One end of the bar presses the gas, the other is wedged against the seat Kid just vacated, the engine revving the emergency break preventing it from going anywhere.

TPKid: Whatever it takes.

The only thing preventing Porno Lad’s plunge into the river while trapped in the impenetrable, and more importantly, inescapable bubble, is grabbed by TPKid as he prepares to release the parking break.

Porno Lad: ALRIGHT! Fine! FINE!! You got what you want. Porno Lad versus TPKid, my final match ever, inside of a Steel Cage.

TPKid: Glad you came to your senses.

Porno Lad: You got what you want, now let me out of this damned thing.

TPKid: Right again, Ethan. Partially. I haven’t got everything I wanted. Because I promised to give your nice car here a GOOD washing.

The parking break is released.

Porno Lad: NO….NOOOO!!

Tires squeal as the Pornomobile goes speeding over the side of the dock and plunging into the river.

Porno Lad: Get me out of here! Someone get me out of here before my hair gets wet!!

He thumps his fists against the bullet-proof glass as the vehicle slowly descends into the water. As much as Kid would LOVE to stay behind and watch Porno Lad’s bubble vanish beneath the water, Kid instead comes to his senses, picking up his phone and dialing the authorities to let them know where they can find his arch nemesis.

Mya is making her way through a backstage area, head lowered, hair tangled in her hands and face twisted into a compilation of emotions. One side of her lips are turned into a smile, the other into a frown.

Mya: Didn’t I tell you that you needed me? That you couldn’t do this on your own.

The hair tangled about her hand is suddenly yanked.

Mya: SHUT UP! Leave me alone…let me out.

The slip into sheer insanity is only brief, as Mya shortly thereafter regains her composure.

Mya: Silly goose, I can’t let you go, not until I’ve given you what you want.

Drake: Hello…

Mya pauses to look down at the midget lingering before her…that midget being the proud co-owner of the IWC.

Mya: Oh hello, I loved you in Garbage Pail Kids.

Desmond allows this statement to slide down his back, given the fact that it doesn’t have far to travel.

Drake: Miss Denton, I saw your performance tonight…

Mya: You did? I’m touched.

Drake: And I have to say, you exude many of the qualities that SIN is looking for in its roster.

Mya: I do? I’m touched.

Drake: But you seem to suffer from a lack of direction, a lack of how do I say it, stability?

The skin on Mya’s face begins to squirm.

Drake: Your mind, it’s scattered. What you need is focus…Clarity. I once was lost just like you. But if you allow individuals like Ba’al to offer you guidance, I’m sure we can help you achieve the wholeness that you seek.

Mya: Awww…well Aprl….I mean, I’M intrigued. What exactly are you offering?

Drake: Walk with me, talk with me, sweetheart.

Desmond takes Mya’s hand and begins to lead her through the corridor. Once they make it a portion of the way down the corridor, Desmond turns and gives a big thumbs up towards the camera, an eager smile on his face.

ANDRE JORDAN VS. LUCAS KNIGHT

Referee Fitzpatrick is stooped in front of a crouched Jordan.

Andre sits on the middle rope reeling from the piledriver he received moments earlier coupled with the attack from Kyle backstage.

Dollar: I don’t think Desmond knows what he’s getting himself into backstage.

Sparkles: Crazy chicks are the shit.

Greyson: Don’t encourage him, Sparkles.

Dollar: Well Desmond getting it over his head, which comes natural to a man hi size, and now Andre fighting against the odds as well, as he’s about to take on Lucas Knight shortly after suffering a devastating Perfect Driver from Mason.

Greyson And he never did get his title back either.

The crowd is getting pumped up….no…they’re getting jacked…no…they’re getting so excited it’s hard for them to keep their pants on. The emotional response is loud enough to blow the arena clean off its foundation when a tune that should become the British National Anthem plays over the speakers and Lucas Knight emerges to the stage. In spite of everything that has transpired thus far tonight, the fans manage to put butterflies in Knight’s stomach, hives on his skin, and that tingling sensation all throughout his body. He only gets a louder response when waving the Union Jack flag high above his head.

Dollar: Listen to this unbelievable reaction for Knight.

Sparkles: These people love Lucas almost as much as I love giant boobs.

Dollar: And here I thought the reaction he got earlier tonight was loud.

This arena rattling response only gets louder when Knight steps into the ring and proudly waves the flag high above his head mounted on the post in his hands. Just then the ring becomes submerged in streamers.

Dollar: What a display of respect for Knight…This reaction is putting goosebumps on my skin.

Stagehands desperately remove the streamers from the ring while Knight hands the flag over to the referee.

Dollar: This match here tonight has been a long time coming between Andre Jordan and Lucas…HEY!

Jordan suddenly bolts out of the corner and nails Lucas in the chin with a closed fist. This single blow changes a thousand reactions…..everyone jumping all over Jordan for the way he just commenced this match.

Dollar: And in spite of the Perfect Driver, Jordan is coming at Knight guns blazing!

Greyson: It’s just like you said, John, a lot has got down between these two gentlemen.

Dollar: Which both Dre and Knight touched upon earlier tonight.

Another closed fist and another and another nails Knight to the chin, rattling his teeth, and rattling his brain. He staggers back as this onslaught of blows continue to connect and eventually puts him against the turnbuckle. Referee Fitzpatrick is now forced to interject, stepping in, grabbing Dre around the wist and forcefully separating him from Knight

Dollar: The referee has got to get some separation between these two.

Greyson: I think Jordan is a bit desperate here.

Dollar: That’s right, he knows he’s got to get this match over with and over with quickly.

Knight knows that he’s got to strike while the iron is hot, bolting out of the corner, shoving aside the official and throwing a punch aimed at Andre’s face. It never connects, but Jordan’s boot to Knight’s ribs DOES.

Lucas is doubled over with both arms hooked and his face about to take a plunge into the canvas with the Opinion Changer.

Dollar: Here comes the Opinion Changer!

Jordan leaves his feet to hit the move only to have Lucas wedge hands to his stomach and shove him back. The pedigree attempt is broken as Jordan flies through the air and lands on his feet albeit with his back turned towards Knight.

Lucas takes instant advantage of this position, rushing in behind Dre, catching his arms and pulling him up into the Monarchy Rules.

Dollar: And now Knight is going for the Monarchy Rules right from the start! If he hits this, it’s over….Jordan is in bad shape already.

The British crowd is about to blow their wads in response to the pending Jordan drop…and that’s just what they see, Jordan dropping…over to his feet!

Andre flips back over Knight’s shoulders, lands behind him and then sets for the Game Changer.

The crowd tightens their sphincters as Jordan heaves Knight into the air for his own rendition of the Olympic Slam only to have Knight slip free at the last second. He then drops to the canvas, rolls under the ropes and decides to collect himself on the mats, angrily kicking some streamers out of his way in the process.

Sparkles: Get back in their Knight, then tell those hot chicks in the crowd to show you love by flashing you.

Knight is still pacing, but if Jordan was given no time to recover from the Perfect Driver, he’s not about to give Knight any time to collect himself either. He slides out of the ring behind Knight, and then grabs him by the shoulder, spinning him around and into a forearm to the cheek, followed by another, and then another and then another-another-another.

Each blow is met with a resounding boo from the fans and more instability from Knight.

Jordan takes him by the back of the head, charges him at the ring and throws him in under the ropes.

Dollar: I have to admit, I’m stunned by this.

Greyson: Yeah, you wouldn’t think Jordan would be the more aggressive of the two here.

Jordan slides into the ring going right after Knight, who stands up and immediately attempts to take Andre out via the European Uppercut. But Dre not only sidesteps the blow, he swings around behind Knight in the process, hooks both of his arms and drags him down into the backslide.

1

Knight rolls over backwards to his knees and then uses this position to hook both of Jordan’s arms He drags him up to his feet and now prepares to unleash the Knight-Driver. Unfortunately for the British spectators they never see that move materialize, because Jordan manages to not just shift his weight and come back down to his feet, but then to twist out of the double underhook. Before Knight can respond he’s receiving a boot to the mid-section, and his head is being pulled into position for the Opinion Changer.

Dollar: Jordan is going for the pedigree again.

Sparkles: What is he, a one trick pony? Am I pony? Greyson, what the hell am I supposed to be?

Greyson: Ya know, I don’t even know. I was drinking a lot of cough syrup when I designed you.

Speaking of medication, the crowd definitely needs some Ativan stat to help calm them down. They only get louder when Knight manages to drop to his knees and prevent being hit with Dre’s finisher. He then evades Andre’s wrath by rolling out of the squared circle.

Dollar: Knight once again putting distance between he and Jordan.

Greyson: I guess this all some form of strategy.

Dollar: It seems more like cowardice to me.

Knight stands at ringside devising his strategy, but it all goes out the window when Andre prepares to do the unthinkable…that being a major dive. He rushes across the ring and dives through the ropes connecting with the leaping European Uppercut. Knight’s bicep cracks Dre right in the face, causing him to drop and dangle over the middle rope, rendered totally unconscious.

Greyson: YAAAAH!

Dollar: Dre went for the dive and it may have just killed his chances of winning this match.

Knight’s going to make sure that Dre meets with an untimely demise. He starts by wrapping a streamer around the back of Andre’s neck, pulling down on it and choking Jordan against the middle rope. Once the official reaches a count of four Knight throws aside the streamer, grabs Jordan around the neck, drags him down to the ring and then under the ropes into a front chancery. Jordan ends up with his shins draped over the apron and his head ultimately plunging into the mats via the Knightfall.

A spike DDT slams Andre’s skull into the thin mats and has the crowd reacting like they just injected pixy sticks straight into their hearts. They are all aflutter as Jordan’s head ricochets from the mats with an impact that is beyond disturbing.

Dollar: As if the European Uppercut wasn’t damaging enough, now Jordan just spiked right on top of his damned skull.

Greyson: A skull that already took a nasty landing before this match ever got started.

The roar is absolutely deafening as Knight gathers up Jordan and throws him into the ring. He eventually ends up stretched motionless across his back, a slight dribble of blood seeping from his nostrils, signs of a potential brain hemorrhage. How does Knight react to this potential injury, by way of wedging his forearm against Jordan’s face, grinding it against Dre’s flesh as he goes for the pin.

Dollar: This place is about to lose it.

The fans hold their breaths to conserve their energy for the standing ovation they’ll give Knight and his victory.

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Neither the pin, nor a post-match celebration commences thanks to Jordan launching a shoulder into the air.

Dollar: In spite of being driven into those mats and suffering the piledriver pre-match, Jordan is still…wow…actually fighting through the pain.

How much fight he has left in him is about to be tested by Knight, who interlocks his legs around Andre’s head, applying a modified sleeper.

Dollar: We don’t see this very often…a head scissors submission.

Sparkles: I see this all the time on the internet.

All of Knight’s leg strength is put into the squeezing of Dre’s neck, turning Andre’s face as red as the blood seeping down out of his nostrils.

Fans: TAP! TAP! TAP!

Andre outstretches his palm on the cusp of doing just that, but something deep down within prevents him from submitting, prevents him from giving into the devastation, to the strangulation, to the pressure from the hold and from the fans.

To the astonishment of all, Knight in particular, Andre begins to turn his body from side to side, eventually rocking his way over to his stomach. The moment he pushes himself over to his gut, Knight lifts his lower body into the air, legs dragging Jordan’s head into the air, then driving him down face first into the canvas. Knight lifts his lower body into the air and uses it to swing Jordan down into the canvas forehead first yet again.

Sparkles: I saw this on the internet too.

Knight then rolls to his back, forcing Jordan over as well. He then sits up, lifts his elbow and begins to drive it down into the top of Jordan’s skull while it is still trapped in the head scissors sleeper.

Dollar: Knight using everything he can think of to wear Jordan down for this submission.

Greyson: Softening up the head also sets Jordan up for the Monarchy Rules doesn’t it?

Dollar: What an astute observation, Greyson.

Sparkles: Okay guys, stop with the cock sucking already.

Jordan doesn’t lift his hands for a submission, instead he puts them between the ankles of his opponent crossed under his chin. Dre once again starts to rock his body, trying his absolute best to get out of the hold….but is his best good enough?

Maybe not.

Because as Jordan rolls over to his stomach, Knight heaves his lower body into the air, on the verge of driving Andre face first into the canvas. But Andre suddenly pulls his head free right before it could be driven into the ring. He then reaches out, grabs Lucas by the ankle and lifts his leg up into the air.

The ankle lock is applied!

Greyson: Jordan countering into some form of ankle based submission.

Or at least that’s Jordan’s intention, because as of the moment Jordan’s head is unable to wrap itself around the match, meaning his arms can’t get properly locked around Knight’s ankle. That’s why Andre is able to get to his foot, launch it into the air and nail Jordan in the skull with a temple. Andre turns away from his opponent with his legs buckling but still keeping him upright…Upright long enough for Knight to grab him by the back of the head, charge him at the turnbuckle and slam his face against it.

Dollar: And now Knight continuing the onslaught on the head.

Jordan staggers back, turns and gets grabbed by the head a second time before being charged across the squared circle and driven into the perpendicular turnbuckle.

Andre’s brain bounces around in his skull as he staggers back into the waiting hands of his opponent, hands that engulf Jordan’s head. Andre is charged across the ring and thrown face first into the turnbuckle where this onslaught on the skull started.

Andre flies back and at last loses his footing, crashing into the canvas then rolling over to his stomach. Knight quickly takes advantage of this position by method of grabbing one of the streamers that wasn’t cleared from the ring then wrapping it around Dre’s throat. He sits down on Jordan’s lower back, pulls up on the streamer and strangles the life out of the Evolution Champion’s body.

Dollar: I don’t think that’s what the streamers were intended for Knight.

The strangulation continues until the official reaches a four and elicits an end to this barbarism. For a moment at least.

The streamer is dropped and Knight is running, right into the ropes, which he ricochets off to give him much needed momentum. He leaps into the air, wedges his boot to the back of Jordan’s head and delviers a modified curb stomp, driving Dre’s head into the canvas.

Dollar: This really is unfair for Jordan. He’s had two matches against Knight in recent weeks ruined by pre-match attacks. And will tonight end the same way as his tag match a couple weeks ago?

Absolutely no rest is provided to Jordan, who is taken around the skull, dragged up to his feet and hit with the Hail Britannia. The move targets the back, neck and the head of Jordan, who sits up on the canvas with increased blood flow seeping from his nostrils.

A running boot to the face ensures there might be even more blood to pour.

Knight nails the running kick that puts Dre on his back and in position for another submission. Lucas takes Jordan around the neck, pulls him up and places him in a dragon sleeper.

Dollar: I think Knight could have realistically just won this match, but he’s more consumed with systematically destroying Dre than anything else.

The hold tightens and tightens and tightens until Andre’s throat is crushed, making it impossible for him to breath. But who needs to breath in order to fight right? Well, apparently Andre does, because his arms fall to his sides, whole body going limp.

Dollar: Andre couldn’t keep this up forever.

Sparkles: Not after Knight has brought the pain like he has in this match.

It pains Fitzpatrick to do it, but he steps in, grabs Andre’s wrist and heaves it into the air. He then watches as the arm falls like a wet noodle to Dre’s side. The arm is then elevated a second time and meets with the same result. Will there be a third time? Stop being so impatient!

Dollar: Is this it, has Knight managed to secure a….?

Before Johnny can finish asking the obligatory question the official raises Dre’s arm into the air and lets it drop….which is exactly what it does. Only it drops in order for Dre to reach back, hook the crease of Knight’s knee and then push his spine into Lucas’ chest. Both men hit the canvas and both men roll over backwards with Knight’s leg still in Andre’s clutches. The dragon sleeper is broken in favor of another submission, Jordan dragging Knight’s leg up into the ankle lock.

Dollar: Outstanding counter….Outstanding COUNTER into the ankle lock.

Sparkles: How dare ye, Jordan. Don’t you realize that the females in attendance aren’t going to show their tits if they have no reason to celebrate?

Jordan continues to twist, wrench and tear, mangle, mutilate and massacre the ankle, but no amount of exertion, no amount of pressure, no amount of tension can make Knight submit. Jordan fights with feral ferocity considering he has no control left of his brain…a brain about to be on the receiving end of another kick.

Lucas manages to get up and onto one foot, hoping in place before he leaps into the air, nailing a second enzugari…okay, nailing it might have been an exaggeration…actually, it was a GROSS exaggeration, considering that Dre’s head ducks under the inbound boot.

Lucas lands flat on his face with nothing to show for his trouble, other than the shake, rattle and roll of his brain. He stands up and tries to recuperate but can bear little weight on his ankle, nor can he bear the punishment to his skull…..punishment in the form of a retaliatory driving of his face into the top turnbuckle pad.

Knight’s head bounces back but ultimately returns to the turnbuckle as Jordan slams his face against it again…then again…then, you guessed it, AGAIN.

Lucas is finally spun around by a vengeful Jordan and charged across the ring into the perpendicular…nadda. Knight manages to shove Jordan off at the last second, sending HIM charging into the corner as opposed to Lucas’ face. Jordan turns around and crashes into the corner while Knight comes barreling in…barreling right into the raised boots of his opponent.

The kick sends Knight stumbling back, and turning his spine towards Andre.

The Evolution Champion takes immediate advantage, rushing out of the corner, wedging hands to Knight’s back and shoving him across the ring with all of his remaining energy. This time there is nothing Knight can do to prevent from losing his footing and crashing with his forehead directly into the middle turnbuckle pad.

Dollar: Andre slowly starting to find his footing in this match yet again.

Knight drags himself up to his feet with the aid of the turnbuckle just as Jordan gets a running start, lunging into the air behind him. He leaps right into the waiting arm of Knight, who catches Dre around the neck and then snaps back, planting Jordan’s face square into the middle turnbuckle.

Sparkles: You were saying?

Greyson: That just shut him right back down.

After his head ricocheted from the turnbuckle, Andre’s body goes rolling to the middle of the ring where he is promptly pinned by Knight.

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The Nottingham crowd reacts with dejection upon seeing Dre kicking out

Greyson: Lord have mercy, Dre is a persistent one isn’t he?

Persistent and equal parts stubborn. Dre is already trying to get back to his feet before Knight shuts him down by stepping over his back and attempting to get the rear naked choke locked in. He gets it established to cheers, only to have it countered to boos. Dre drops to his seat and connects with a jaw breaker that not only breaks the chin, but breaks the hold. Lucas goes staggering back, holding his mouth before he gathers himself and comes charging back towards Andre’s neck. He wraps his arms around Dre’s neck, going for another rear chinlock only to have Dre counter this time by grabbing Knight’s wrist and flipping him over Jordan’s head.

The British Icon goes rolling across the canvas and back to his feet, but finds his wrist still clutched in Andre’s clutches so that the Evolution Champion can yank him forward into the Get, Got. The short arm spinning powerslam connects with Andre hooking the leg.

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Knight manages to get his shoulder up just before a three.

Dollar: Andre getting a very close near fall over Knig…

Greyson: But now he’s going for something else! The ankle.

Dre rolls away from Knight’s chest and to his leg, grabbing his ankle and lifting it into the air.

Dollar: Ankle lock about to be applied.

But almost is as close as Jordan gets. Knight lifts his legs, wedges his feet to Andre’s chest and pushes him back into the ropes. Jordan hits the cables, ricochets off and comes back in at Knight, who stands up and looks to deliver the thrust kick counter.

A thrust kick counter that is countered into the ankle lock.

Jordan catches the boot before it could crack him in the chin, and now it’s Knight’s ankle that feels like it’s gong to be cracked as he’s turned and twisted down to the canvas. Unfortunately for Jordan, in the process of twisting his opponent around, Knight turns his back on Jordan, launches his free leg into the air and wraps it around Jordan’s waist. He pulls him down into a roll up pin, but Dre keeps on rolling, right out of the pinning predicament and right onto his feet.

The moment Jordan gets to his feet, he turns, rushes at Knight and gets scooped up unto his shoulder. The British fans are absolutely delighted at the image of Knight rushing across the ring and delivering a version of the running powerslam.

Dollar: Running powerslam a la the British Bulldog.

Greyson: A little homage being played there.

Dollar: An homage that might pick Knight up a win.

The hyped crowd watches as the official slaps the canvas to close what has been an action packed match thus far.

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The third slap of the canvas never materializes thanks to Jordan getting his shoulder up and out from under Knight. How does Knight respond to this? Not by losing his cool, but by pushing Jordan over to his stomach, wrapping up his legs and reaching out locking hands under Lucas’ chin, applying the Regal Stretch!

Dollar: And Knight takes it a step further, applying the regal Stretch!

Greyson: A perfect hold to target the head and the neck.

Dollar: It’s actually punishing a lot of body parts all at once.,

Fans: TAP! TAP! TAP!!

They may implore him to do it, but Andre won’t give into the agony that courses through every inch of his body. Instead he swings his fingers into the canvas and begins to grind his teeth as he drags himself towards the ropes. Knight continues to put pressure on the hold, really putting everything left in his body into this hold.

And Andre is fighting with everything he’s worth to escape it. He slowly reaches out for the ropes, stretching for all he’s worth and FINALLY wrapping a middle finger around the bottom cable.

Dollar: Jordan manages to get to those ropes….he just manages to get to those ropes and escape the Regal Stretch.

Sparkles: What an insult to these fans.

The Regal Stretch is finally broken after Fitzpatrick threatens to disqualify Knight here in his home country. Though frustrated, Knight manages to get over himself long enough to grab Dre’s ankle and drag him towards the center of the ring. He is about to go for the Regal Stretch again only to have Jordan roll to his back, bend his knees and pull Knight towards him. Not only towards him but into a drop toe hold. Knight goes down to the canvas and Jordan leaps to his feet behind him, lifting his leg into the air in an attempted transition into the ankle lock.

Dollar: He’s gonna go for the hold again.

He goes for it, but it never materializes, because Knight manages to roll forward and launch Jordan over his body into the turnbuckle. Dre’s head bounces off the turnbuckle, his legs losing their stability, leaving him sprawled over the corner with Lucas rushing in from behind. Somehow Jordan’s spidey sense tingles in time to alert him to the fact that danger is incoming.

He suddenly steps out of the way and Knight’s chest crushes the corner, but then it’s his back that takes the greatest punishment. Dre wraps arms around Knight’s waist, drops into a backwards roll then snaps out of it into a rolling German suplex with the bridge.

Yep, Jordan just went there, he just hit the Chaos Theory…he just channeled Douglas Williams…and his move is homage is not nearly as well received as the many Knight has employed throughout this match.

Dollar: Dre busting out a rolling German.

Greyson: And these fans are ready to riot as a result.

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Now they’re ready to riot out of pure excitement, because Knight kicks out just mere seconds before the three.

Dollar: But Knight manages to thwart the ensuing pinfall.

He gets his shoulder up and turns, turns right away from Andre, who isn’t about to let Knight get away by even inches. He cuts off all avenues of escape by dragging Knight up to his feet, interlocking arms about his waist and then powering him along into the turnbuckle for a second Chaos Theory.

Knight’s chest hits the canvas, and he does get rolled back but just Jordan threatens to snap out of said roll and punctuate the move with a bridging German, Knight manages to perform a standing switch The moment both men get to their feet, Knight swings around behind Andre, catches him by the arms and heaves him up straight into the Monarchy Rules.

Dollar: Monarchy Rules…ya betcha!

Sparkles When did you turn into William H Macy from Fargo?

Everyone changes their tunes from negativite to positive, right back to negative again, cause Jordan manages to counter out of the modified vertibreaker. He flips back, lands on his feet and then the moment Lucas turns around, Dre places him in a side headlock. Knight is dragged along, kicking and trashing right into a bulldog driver that plants the top of his head right into the middle turnbuckle pad.

His skull ricochets off the corner that has proven so vital to both men’s success. Somehow he remains on his feet, but wishes he had hit the canvas when Dre swoops in from behind, hooks his arm and delivers the Game Changer.

Dollar: Andre literally CHANGING THE GAME!

Greyson: Quite an impressive slam!

Andre’s Angle Slam connects with such force, but it’s the crowd’s reaction that ultimately shakes the ring. They DEMAND Knight kick out as Jordan hooks his leg for the final and definitive fall of this match.

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The fall is neither final nor definitive, because Knight manages to get his shoulder up and prevent maybe the most ego crushing loss of his career.

Dollar: But Knight, in front of friends, family, countrymen, he kicks out in the heart of Nottingham.

Sparkles: This is so emotional it makes me wish I had a vagina.

Though the momentum of this match was CHANGED by Dre, it definitely has not altered the game He sits up on the canvas, eyes wide, lips quivering, in a state of shock that he didn’t just pick up the win. But his efforts, they will not be thwarted. With Knight in this advantageous position, Dre looks to finish him off. Dragging him up, hooking both of his arms and setting for another change…a change in Opinion.

He’s got Knight’s arms hooked for the pedigree and the crowd hooked on every single second of this match. It seems their hometown hero will taste defeat, but instead it’s Andre who gets a taste of the turnbuckle.

Somehow Knight manages to not only counter, but counter by way of heaving Jordan up into a one armed flapjack that plants the Evolution Champion’s face directly into the top turnbuckle post. His skull ricochets off the corner, sending him staggering back…right back into the waiting clutches of Knight, who hooks Dre’s leg and his neck, snapping back into the bridging Regal Suplex.

Dollar: Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me? Knight busting out the Regal Suplex?

Greyson: Another homage?

An homage that may have just put a ‘W’ in his expanding win column.

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The bridge is broken when Andre’s shoulder escapes the ring….But Knight’s spirits are NOT broken, In fact, his will is only intensified. He drops over Jordan’s back, hooks bot hands around his chin, wraps up the legs and applies yet ANOTHER Regal-Stretch.

Dollar: Knight back into the hold. He’s twisting up Jordan’s body to the point where he HAS to submit.

Greyson: Dre has taken quite the punishment to the head.

Sparkles: I know some people I’d like to punish with MY head, not the one on top of my head.

The submission is so tightly locked on, and Dre’s body is so awkwardly strained that his prospects for victory are looking less and less likely. Knight has slammed the door shut on this possibility, doing so by putting a little extra something-something into his grip. The support from the thousands crammed into this building feeds Knight’s desires…his NEED to defeat Jordan.

The hate showered upon him by the crowd, and by the GOOD people inspires Jordan to keep fighting…to keep struggling towards the cables.

The pain in both men’s bodies is absolutely agonizing, but it’s not going to stop the aggressor and the victim. We are witnessing a true example of their wills, of their endurance, and their threshold for pain. Unfortunately Dre seems to be failing the test, his body going limp in the center of the ring.

Dollar: Fittingly Knight is about to get the submission here in Nottingham England over Andre Jordan with the freaking Regal Stretch. How much more awesome can it possibly get?

Sparkles: Tits. There are not nearly enough tits involved.

Knight can feel it, his whole tingling with a sensation of glee, and the crowd teeming with that very same feeling. They are collectively on their feet and collectively watching and collectively screaming as the official checks on Jordan’s condition, attempting to confirm rather he’s finally faltered. His hand is raised and it stays there for only a second before falling to the canvas, Dre’s arm totally limp. The referee steps in and grabs the arm again hoisting it up and holding it there a fraction of a second before letting it go right back down to the canvas.

Which brings us to the moment of truth, as the referee grabs the arm, heaves it into the air and watches….along with the fans in the building. Along with the fans watching around the world. Along with all those in the locker-room. Along with a determined Lucas Knight.

Every attentive eye if focused on Andre’s arm as it falls from the referee’s clutches to the canvas below.

Greyson: Has he passed out?

Sparkles: No you dumb-shit.

The arm doesn’t hit the canvas, it shoots into the air, fingers balled into a fist. He then swings his knuckles into the canvas, pushing himself up into a crawl even without the use of his lower extremities. Knight cannot believe it, looking like someone just told him that they slapped his grandmother in the face and spit in her eye.

Dre inflicts greater insult by dragging himself forearm over forearm towards the ropes that seem MILES removed.

Miles are not a distance that bothers Jordan, he crosses it with his own weight, and the weight of Knight on top of him, and the weight of the world hanging upon his aching limbs…..and it only takes one of them to reach out, arm wrapping around the middle rope.

Dollar: I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one in total and complete disbelief right now.

The Nottingham arena is screaming out of dejection at the sight of Jordan reaching the ropes and assuming the role of dream killer here tonight. But Knight is about to be a legitimate killer…seeing as that’s what it will take to finish Jordan off.

He jumps over Knight and out of the ring, landing on the outside mats before reaching back into the squared circle where he snatches Jordan around the neck. A near unconscious Andre is about to be put in a comatose state as Knight slides him to the point where only his shins are dragged across the apron. He seems ready to deliver the Knightfall one more and one LAST time.

Dollar: He’s gonna spike him on top of his head yet again.

Knight is just about to snap back when Jordan suddenly reaches up, snatches Lucas around the neck and pushes off the apron with his feet, twisting around into a tornado DDT.

It’s Lucas’ skull that connects with the mats instead, sending him flipping over to his back and the crowd flipping out.

Dollar: Jordan just saved himself with that DDT.

But the tornado DDT is not the only method of saving Jordan from the wrath of Knight.

In spite of his injured head, Jordan gets to his feet and prepares to put it to good use. He climbs up onto the apron, shakes off all the traumatic injuries inflicted on his body then leaps to the outside mats with a Dynamite Kid style headbutt. It connects directly to Knight’s heart, if he posses one…and it takes the heart out of the crowd’s reaction.

Dollar: I wonder if Dynamite Kid would be complimented by that move coming from Jordan here tonight.

Lucas holds his chest and the fans hold their breath as Jordan scoops him up and slides him into the ring. Lucas has barely just gotten to his feet before Jordan is sliding in behind him and under him, hoisting Knight into the Game Chan…..the only thing that’s changed, is Andre’s strategy when Lucas manages to twist his body in mid-air, wedge his feet to the champion’s chest and drop back. Jordan is sent flying into the monkey flip, crashing hard across his spine.

Surprisingly Dre rolls forward out of the landing though and unto his feet before bouncing off the cables and coming back in at Knight, only to be caught, caught and flung into the air.

Knight then swings around into the European Uppercut on his airborne opponent. But to the surprise of everyone and the dread of Knight, his arm is caught and his body is sent flipping over sideways into an arm drag.

Lucas hits the canvas but rolls out of the fall and back to his feet. He then turns and rushes at Jordan, who just manages to get to his feet and catch Lucas coming in with the Thrill Ride.

However, the moment Knight is pushed into the air, he twists his body, reaches back with his legs and wraps them around Andre’s waist. He falls forward into a roll up that flips Jordan over and onto the back of his shoulders with Lucas seated on his chest and holding down the creases of his knees.

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The hand comes down, but it’s Lucas’ ankle that goes up…goes up into the grips of Jordan.

Andre kicks out, reaches out and wraps his arms around Knight’s leg while rolling to his side. Lucas ends up on his chest with his ankle elevated into the air and into the grips of Andre. The ankle lock is applied AGAIN, and this time there is no immediate counter or reversal. The wear and tear on Lucas’ body is too much to resurge from.

Dollar: ANKLE LOCK!

Sparkles: Someone is gonna have to cut the dingleberries out of my furry bottom.

Greyson: In other words, Sparkles just pooped himself.

And the crowd is about to collectively shit themselves as well should Lucas’ raised hand slap the canvas. They can’t grapple with the notion, so strongly opposed to it that they are ready to rip their own eyeballs out. Many close their eyes and turn away from the hand that swings towards the canvas, but the palm balls into a fist and hits rather than taps the ring. Knight pushes him up and glares at the ropes, desperately clawing his way across them.

Dollar: Knight would rather have his ankle snapped than tap out. He can’t lose here in England.

And he won’t, reaching out and grabbing the bottom rope.

Greyson: He got to the cables…he got to them.

He reached the ropes, but that doesn’t save Knight from a loss…it may just delay it. Lucas snatches him up by the hair and takes him around the neck, rushing him across the ring with a bulldog driver aimed at the turnbuckle.

Just as it seems Dre is about to crush Knight’s head like an egg against the middle turnbuckle pad, he is shoved off, shoved off right into the corner. Andre’s body turns and hits the corner with Knight in hot pursuit. He catches Lucas’ stomach against his palms and shoves him up into the air, then turns and catches Knight on top of his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.

He then rushes out of the corner and flips forward, delivering a Finley Roll.

The move connects and Dre rolls along not to his feet but into another turnbuckle. He leaps into the air, lands on the top rope and prepares to launch off into the moonsault. However, Knight is back on his feet and Dre notices this, hence why he alters his move. Instead of the moonsault that customarily follows the Finley Roll, he leaps from the corner into a twisting lariat only to be drilled in the skull with the European Uppercut!

Dollar: Dre caught…Dre caught with the European Uppercut!

The air, the fight, the determination, it’s all knocked out of Dre with one fatal blow that has just netted Knight the victory. He turns and falls over the unconscious Jordan.

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Dollar: And Knight picks up the victory.

Sparkles: No he hasn’t you tool.

Indeed, he has not, considering that Jordan just got his shoulder up.

Dollar: Did we just see that?

Sparkles: You did, I was busy watching that fan in the front row wearing a tank top.

The fans continue to exude a mixed reaction as Dre kicks out and Knight finds himself on the brink of losing his composure.

He pulls Jordan up to his feet and then delivers a kick to his stomach, he then hooks both of his arms, setting up for the Opinion Changer.

Dollar: Oh lord no…Knight is going…he’s going for the Opinion Changer on Andre.

Sparkles: How delightfully disrespectful.

Jordan is just about to have his skull crushed against the canvas when another man who was victimized by Knight presently comes staggering towards the ring, that man being Scott Cannon…chair in hand.

Greyson: It’s another of Silas World…chair in hand.

Knight seems on the cusp of delivering the finisher only to have Jordan surprise him with a counter all his own. He stands up, back dropping Knight over his head, only to have Lucas catch him around the waist on the way down. Knight pulls Jordan down into a sunset flip only to have Andre roll backwards out of the pin, catch Lucas by the ankle and go for the submission once again.

Dollar: Andre is going after that ankle..he has it in his clutches!

Andre is about to turn him over to his stomach and apply the hold when Knight manages to twist his body just enough to pull Jordan down into a small package. But Lucas does not go for the pin, instead he stands up out of the roll up and then twists Andre over to his stomach, going for the Regal Stretch.

Jordan manages to avoid being trapped in this hold yet again by method of flopping onto his back, wedging his feet to Knight’s rib cage and kicking him off. Lucas goes staggering back into the ropes while Andre rolls back to his feet. For the first time ever both athletes have the same idea at the same time, leaping into simultaneous crossbodies. They connect, knocking one another out of the air and to the canvas.

Dollar: Knight and Andre, back and forth, back and forth…who’s finally going to win out here…?

The whole building is blanketed in darkness with one exception, the light cast from the Cartrel-tron which features footage of those same religious ruins…that same moon cresting behind the decayed church and the hill it sits upon….And shadows…two of them forming on the walls of the hollowed out and overgrown structure.

Voice: Deimos….Phobos…

This chillingly powerful voice bellows from the darkness that surrounds the filming camera.

Voice: You are once again called upon to unearth the fears of mortal men, and to bury the misguided idealism of heroes.

If the voice wasn’t frightening enough, the shrill scream is. The camera turns around as quickly as possible to find a sinister smile…a set of penetrating eyes…and the face of an amused monster.

Man: The Movement has Cometh….

The lights in the building remain dead with the exception of burning candles upon the stage, candles highlighting the arrival of those same two menacing souls who have tortured Romeo Damascus in recent weeks.

Dollar: WHAT…are we seeing right now?

Sparkles: Greyson, now would be the time to protect me with your life.

Instead of tormenting and exsanguinating Damascus tonight, the Movement employ different tactics for terrifying the masses. They bring a symbolic casket to the stage.

Greyson: What’s with the casket?

Dollar: Your guess is as good as mine.

This ominous warning is followed by both men dropping to their knees on the stage, extending their arms towards the heavens and chanting…chanting God only knows what.

Dollar: This is just weird.

Greyson: What are they going to do with that casket?

Romeo isn’t about to let them do anything with the casket. He rushes to the stage behind both men and jumps on one of their backs. The invidiual is taken down to the stage with Romeo on top, delivering rapid fire punches.

Dollar: It’s Romeo! Romeo Damascus out here to get revenge on the group that has left him laying two weeks straight.

The incredibly quick Romeo pounces to his feet and then into the other individual who was kneeling on the stage. Beginning to deliver punch after punch to his cheek. He has both of these mysterious men reeling from a series of vengeful shots. But this pursuit of revenge finds itself derailed when Romeo turns towards the curtains just as some bizarre woman steps to the stage with a goblet in her hand and blood in her mouth…Blood that soon finds itself misting the eyes of Damascus.

Dollar: Who is that!?!

Sparkles: I don’t know, but we just found out he’s a spitter.

Blood is spat from this ‘lady’ into Romeo’s eyes, instantly blinding him. This leaves him defenseless against the punches and forearms delivered by the two individuals Damascus was just getting the better of. They throw him through the curtains to the back with the smiling lady following her brethren in the process of pursuing Damascus.

Dollar: What an absolutely bizarre turn of events.

And apparently the Movement isn’t the only group attacking. When the lights come back up we find Lucas Knight valiantly trying to turn back the odds of Scott Cannon and Kelcey Wallace.

Silas: Hurt ‘em…hurt that sonuvabitch.

Mason stands on the apron and shouts at the two to continue putting the beat-down on Knight.

Dollar: Silas World! They’re all over Lucas!!

Sparkles; Even more funky nasty payback tonight.

Dollar: They struck while the world was preoccupied by this ‘Movement.’

Greyson: And they’ve managed to get this match thrown out as a result.

Fists fly from Knight into the faces of Kelcey and Scott, trying to fend them off. But they are eventually too much for him….Scott managing to get a boot up into Lucas’ crotch. Kelcey then follows up with a big forearm to Knight’s temple.

Silas: This aughta teach ya a lesson Boy…Ya don’t put ya hands on Silas World, and ya especially don’t disrespect Tay! Ya World Champion.

The only thing that is going to be regretted, is the fact that Scott’s attack on Knight has Cannon so preoccupied he doesn’t notice Jordan spinning him around until it’s too late to prevent the boot to the gut and the set up for the Opinion Changer.

Greyson: Jordan! Andre Jordan taking out Scott Cannon! Does he not realize that he just helped Lucas?

Dollar: I think the fact that Silas World just got his match thrown out against Knight, doesn’t set well with Dre at all.

Kelcey turns and takes notice of Scott’s face about to hit the canvas and then goes to react only to have her arms caught from behind. Knight manages to stand up, heaving her into the air and going for the Monarchy Rules.

Dollar: Knight is going to take out the Perfect 10!

Sparkles: Take your hands off my future Sugar Momma.

The Monarchy Rules is just about to be delivered on a stunned Kelcey, and Scott is on the verge of being nailed with the pedigree before Silas intervenes. He grabs Wallace by her ankle pulls her down out of this disastrous predicament. She ends up landing beside Silas on the apron beside Silas, while Scott manages to shove himself out from under Jordan just in time to prevent being hit with the pedigree. He goes rolling out of the ring, joining with Kelcey and Silas.

Dollar: Silas saves Kelcey, and Cannon manages to avoid being hit with the Opinion Changer.

Silas World prop one another up as they back away from the ring and away from the furious gazes of both Jordan and Knight. Those stares shift from the trio at ringside, as Lucas and Jordan give each other a very tentative stare….AWWWKWARD!

After all the action…all the chaos…all the excitement inside of the ring…one would be forgiven if they were too out of breath to respond to the pending arrival of Kitty Buehler. But that’s just what they’re about to get. She presently makes her way down a corridor with a…GAVEL in hand.

Dollar: Kitty Buehler….we’ve seen her throughout the night backstage…but it looks like she’s coming out here NOW.

Sparkles: Good, I like Christian chicks almost as much as I like crazy chicks.

Dollar: Buehler looks ready for a fight.

Sparkles: Don’t go anywhere, or I’ll come to your home and punch you straight in the ovary.

With the Evolution Championship over his shoulder, “Twelve” makes his way through the parking lot, obviously intent on getting out of here with the gold still in his possession. He nears a car in the distance…one that will whisk him and the title to safety.

Chase: GAVIN!

”Twelve” spins around, staring through the slits of his mask into the face of his approaching agent Adam is presently swiping a towel against his cheeks, still trying to remove the stench of the stink-face from earlier tonight.

Gavin: You have bigger cahonies than I give you credit for Adam.

The mask is removed from “Twelve’s” head to let the cat out of the bag, revealing the worst kept secret in the history of mankind. Gavin Taylor stares at his former agent, the very man he forced into that stink-face.

Chase: I think we seriously need to sit down and talk.

Gavin: That time has passed.

Chase: I refuse to believe that. If I can overlook what you did to me tonight, then you can certainly look past a few of my more minor errors in judgment.

Gavin: Minor errors? You cost me the Evolution Championship again and again and again. You overlooked me and used me as a glorified errand boy, again and again and again. I’m through with it, Adam, I deserve better.

Adam finds himself humbled, head lowered to stare down at the floor.

Chase: You know what? You’re right.

Stunned? No….Gavin is BEYOND shocked to hear these words come from Chase’s mouth.

Chase: I let you down, and I’m sorry. You truly do deserve better, and I’m not going to stand in your way of achieving all you can be. Good luck Gavin.

An outstretched palm draws Gavin’s shocked eyes, and eventually Taylor’s tentative hand.

Chase Thank you for the memories Gavin…

Gavin: I’m surprised to see you taking this so well.

Chase: I’m a consummate professional, you should know that.

Gavin: Sure….Best of luck with Chase Global.

They not only share a shake, but a pleasant smile and an equally as pleasant head nod. Gavin’s head then turns….turns right into the Basic Black delivered by Kyle. The lariat knocks Gavin down with the back of his head cracking against the concrete.

Chase: You moron.

Chase looks down into Gavin’s face, while Kyle picks up the Evolution Championship fallen from Gavin’s shoulder.

Chase: You are nothing without me…NOTHING!

Both Adam and Kyle not only take their leave, but they do so with the Evolution Championship over Black’s shoulder.

Kyle: Hope you learned a thing or two about respect, you punk-bitch.

Kitty: RACHEL FOXX!

The fans are so red hot they’re on the verge of sizzling. The impassioned cries of Kitty manage to dredge the crowd from the funk they were put into by the conclusion to the Knight versus Jordan match a few moments ago.

Dollar: Things chaotic backstage and there’s an even more tumultuous situation in the ring right now.

Sparkles: Kitty gonna let the claws out?

Kitty paces the ring with a gavel in hand and a hostile tone in her voice.

Kitty: Did you see the little tweak made to tonight’s card? You might have missed it, which is understandable seeing as I’ve gone pretty much unnoticed the entire time I’ve been with the iWC. I’m here right now though to remind you of my challenge, and remind you of who I am. I’m a Buehler! A name that carried the I-W-C! And I will not stand idle and watch as you, and the Sinistry destroy what my family worked so hard to build.

The pacing Kitty continues to take a stand for both company and family.

Kitty: The good book teaches us to turn the other cheek…but it’s pretty hard to ignore everything you’ve been doing to my sister, and everything you’ve been doing to the federation she has devoted her life to. I won’t watch you do this…I won’t stand for…

Frost: Heeereeee Kitty…Kitty….Kitty.

It might be a Rachel that Kitty sees, but it’s not Rachel Foxx. Standing on the stage is Rachel Frost, flanked by the Pestilence, Suzanne Moore and referee Stuart Wright. They step around the casket still situated on the stage.

Frost: Darlin…I just have one question for ya….Who are you?

Kitty: Foxx will find out who I am…

Frost: No, she won’t, cause a nobody like you ain’t SIN material, ya ain’t the caliber of opponent who can measure up to Rachel Foxx. So she ain’t comin’ out here and she ain’t facin ya.

Kitty: So Foxx is gonna hide behind you, huh? Okay, fine, get your behind in this ring and prepare to be crucified!

Frost isn’t going anywhere. Instead she just leans her elbow against the casket still parked on the stage and smiles.

Frost: Nah shuga….I’m NOT gonna lower myself to facin’ someone like ya…But hey, I’m not gonna waste this opportunity. We’ve got a few employees here in SIN who need to prove themselves worthy of their jobs. Which is where YOU come in handy, Kitty…Kitty…Kitty….Hisssssss.

She emulates a cat clawing, but there are about to be literal claws taken to the body of Buehler, as Pestilence, Wright and Moore start towards the ring.

Dollar: SIN’s employees coming after Kitty.

Greyson: This is going to be very unpleasant.

Kitty spins in circles, eyes observing the faces of the brainwashed masses who surround her. She clinches her fists, but they will offer little aid against these sheer numbers. Laymon is the first to begin inching his way up to the apron and before long the rest of his fellow Sinistry supporters begin to do the same.

Dollar: Here we go.

It seems that Kitty is on the cusp of being euphonized by the forces sent to the ring by a smiling Frost.

Frost: Ya should’a stayed outta this, Kitt..

The only thing that should have been done is keeping the Pestilence, Moore and Wright close…because they could have protected Frost from the wrath of Robert.

Before she can react she’s being spun around and nailed with a closed fist to the lips.

Dollar: IT’S ROBERT!

Robert: RETURN MY CHARTER YOU FOUL CUNT!

Frost responds with a right hand to Robert’s jaw as the two begin to battle on the stage. And it’s a battle that draws the focus of the SIN employees from Kitty in the ring. She immediately takes advantage of this distraction, rushing forward, reaching through the ropes and grabbing Jessica Wilde by the hair. She pulls Wilde up onto the apron and then into the ring, throwing repeated punches into her face.

Laymon and Executioner slide in to aid the former ring announcer while Suzanne and Wright are charging up the ramp to help Frost.

She presently finds her throat engulfed in Robert’s hands as the big man strangles her. Just as Moore and Wright reach their target, they find THEMSELVES targeted by Mr. Hush and Al. The two come bolting down the ramp right into blows delivered to the faces of the corrupt official and the easily manipulated commentator.

Meanwhile, inside of the ring Laymon and Executioner are charging in to destroy Kitty only to find their plans going awry thanks to Whitman and Katelyn. The two emerge from the crowd and roll into the ring, immediately cutting off Laymon and Executioner with the steel chairs in their hands.

Dollar: It’s Whitman and Buehler…and they’ve brought the chairs!

On the ramp, Mr. Hush is now swinging his trash-bags full of popcorn over the skull of Suzanne, while Al…yes…Al peppers the chin of referee Wright with closed fists. All this happens while Robert is dragging Rachel up the ramp and throwing her towards the casket left on the stage by the Movement. She turns and cracks the casket ribs first, ALMOST tumbling inside of it.

Robert: You will return the sacred charter, or you shall suffer the wrath of Robert’s list.

He steps in with fingers twiddling to his sides, ready to inflict greater harm.

Inside of the ring Whitman and Katelyn simultaneously swing their chairs into the skulls of Laymon and Executioner, knocking the two to the canvas. This onslaught is about to continue before the two Black Crusade sympathizers find themselves distracted by the visual of a giant crucifix lowering from the rafters. A crucifix with someone holding onto it.

Greyson: What is that coming towards the ring?

Sparkles: It looks like a crucifix.

Katelyn looks up towards the object bound towards the ring, her face twisting into a look of rage as a result of both the wooden item, and the person loaded upon it. All the while Whitman is putting the boots to a downed Laymon’s body before Executioner swoops in behind him, spinning Clarence around and blasting him to the chin with a right hand. Clarence is staggered back and now Executioner turns towards Kitty, who crouches over Wilde, nailing her with repeated forearms. Executioner reaches out and snatches Kitty by the throat, threatening to chokeslam Buehler…But it only ends up being a threat, because Whitman cuts him off via a chair shot straight to the upper back, a blow that sends Executioner staggering forward into the KTFO by Katelyn.

As Executioner is taken out in the ring, Robert prepares to destroy Frost on the stage. And he’s going to do it by opening the casket and throwing her inside. However, the second Robert props open the casket door a figure sits up inside, that figure being Jonathan Collins, who swings a gavel directly into the big man’s face.

Dollar: HEEEY! Collins was in the casket!?!

Greyson: How did he manage to pull that off?

The Saint of Violence bludgeons Robert in the face with the gavel, and then Rachel grabs the big man by his thigh. Collins leaps out of the casket and grabs the opposite leg, as both Sinistry members heave Robert into the air and send his massive frame flipping into the coffin. The lids are slammed shut, sealing him inside.

Meanwhile that giant crucifix has lowered all the way down to the ring and has Katelyn spinning around to eye not just the wooden religious icon, but the woman who is wrapped around it. Yes, Rachel….Rachel Foxx is loaded on the crucifix, arms wrapped in a crucified Jesus like posture around the beams.

Dollar: This is just…this is just too bizarre for words.

Katelyn clinches her fists and prepares to put them to the smiling face of Rachel before Buehler finds her shoulder caught and her eyes whipping around towards the one eye of Hurse.

Dollar: Now what is Hurse doing here?

Greyson: This is sheer insanity.

Katelyn looks into Hurse’s eyes with an expression of disbelief. But that expression changes to one of pain when Rachel steps off the crucifix and smashes a gavel over the back of Katelyn’s head. The blow knocks Buehler to her knees, her cheek falling against Hurse’s pelvis. Instead of reaching down to help his long time friend and former protégé, Hurse puts his palm to Katelyn’s face and shoves her onto her back.

Dollar: What has become of Hurse?

Greyson: I think someone else is drinking from the Sinistry cool-aid.

Hurse turns his back on Buehler and towards the smiling face of Wilde, who blows him in a kiss. Meanwhile on the stage Frost and Collins grab hold of both sides of the casket Robert is trapped inside of.

Dollar: Hold on…look at the stage.

Greyson: Something tells me I don’t want to.

The casket is suddenly pushed with all the combined strength of Frost and Collins before eventually finding its way over the edge of the stage. It goes crashing all the way down to the concrete, smashing against it and brutalizing the body trapped inside.

Dollar: NOOOO!

Sparkles: Fucked up!

Dollar: These two just…just destroyed Robert.

Greyson: And they’re about to do the same to Buehler.

Katelyn is being forced up to her feet by Laymon and Wilde, backing her across the canvas and towards the crucifix.

Dollar: Their gonna crucify her!

Whitman tries to rush to the aid of Buehler only to be caught with a big leaping spinning heel kick to the face by Foxx, knocking him down to the canvas.

As one of Katelyn’s hands are pushed back against the beam and a bolt is removed from Wilde’s pocket. Mr. Hush attempts to intervene. He slides into the ring but only makes it a fraction of a way inside before Laymon and a recovered Executioner are putting boots to his body. They continue to stomp away before Moore and Wright drag Hush back out of the ring and throw him back into Al, knocking both men down to the mats.

There seems to be little hope left for Katelyn, as a hammer rises to nail the bolt into Buehler’s palm and pin it permanently to the crucifix. As this unfolds, a kneeling Foxx watches, kicking back her hair and staring with reverence towards the heavens above. But that smug feeling ends when she feels the canvas shaking beneath her knees, thanks to Kitty catching Wilde, turning her around and delivering the KBO.

Dollar: Kitty saving Katelyn before she could be crucified!

A huge ovation is heard as the youngest of the Buehler clan takes out of a member of the Pestilence. At last Foxx opens her eyes to observe Kitty desperately helping her sister down off the crucifix. She also sees Whitman scrambling across the ring into a shoulder to Hurse’s ribs, knocking both men through the ropes to the outside of the ring. Yet while one of Foxx’s supporters is removed from the ring, others take his place. Executiioner and Laymon turn towards the Buehler sisters, while Frost, Collins, Moore and Wright climb up onto the apron. Before any of them can get into the ring Foxx extends her arms to her sides, holding everyone at bay.

Instead of unleashing violence, they unleash a chilling glare towards Kitty as she supports her sister’s weight.

Foxx: You wish to take your sister’s place upon the cross?

Kitty has someone else she imagines being crucified upon said cross, presently glaring menacingly right at her.

Foxx: We will make your desires manifest. Welcome to SIN.

FADE TO BLACK