SIGNED AND DELIVERED

Before the usual over the top pay-per-view video package spoofing some cinematic classic can begin, cameras instead open on a long white limo positioned within the enclosed parking facility. A mysterious aura surrounds the vehicle bearing tinted windows in order to shield the identities of those inhabiting it.

Michelle Blacker: Welcome to Extinction LIVE on pay-per-view…..

The camera adjusts to face Michelle with the limo juxtaposed behind her back.

Michelle: Self Mutilation Michelle here with some breaking news right from jump street. We understand that inside of this limo….

She gestures to the vehicle to remove any doubts.

Blacker:…IWC Co-President Orlando Cruze is in tense contract negotiations with Hurse’s replacement for the eight person tag match later tonight. Hopefully we can get a bit of a spoiler NOW and find out who Orlando has coaxed back into an IWC ring.

With no trepidation she taps at the rear window, and now anticipates an answer. She doesn’t have to wait long as the door flies open and out steps the Icon himself. Cruze exits the vehicle with a clipboard in hand and a HUGE smirk on his face. Something has clearly put a pep in his step.

Orlando: Oh yeah, it’s going to be a pleasure working with you too champ…

Orlando turns his back to Michelle, simultaneously blocking her view of the limo and chatting with the mysterious competitor inside.

Cruze: It’s been way too long since we’ve caused a little mischief around here. I can’t wait to watch you take care of the Five Star Society. It’s gonna be B-E-A-utiful!

The door is swung shut before Michelle could visually ascertain the identity of the surrogate competitor.

Cruze: Michelle, fancy seeing you here.

Blacker pouts and wants to take a razor to her skin after failing to discover the answer to the question everyone is dying to know, herself included.

Michelle: Is that him?

Orlando: Who?

Michelle: Don’t play ignorant with me. Who is he?

Orlando: WHO?

Michelle: The legend you brought back to replace Hurse!

Orlando: Oh. Why didn’t you just come right out and ask?

A long sigh is exhaled from Blacker.

Cruze: Yes, the surrogate I’ve brought in to fill the injured Hurse’s role happens to be in the limo and he’s quite eager to team with the Empire tonight. And to make matters all the more exciting, I just got his John Hancock on a brand spanking new contract. Meaning he won’t just be competing tonight, he’ll be returning full time in 2010.

Blacker: Really? Can I take a look at the contract.

Orlando smirks and shrugs before showing her the clipboard. She gets just a peak at it before the contract is tucked to the Icon’s sternum.

Orlando: Actually, naaaaah. I think you should be as patient as everyone else. You’ll find out who he is when the Empire and the Five Star Society do. Now let’s get this pay-per-view crackin!

The Icon leaves it at that, walking around the flabbergasted correspondent. She stares longingly at the limo and blows a strand of hair from her face in anger.

HYPE VIDEO

A grainy image, purely black and white, devoid of any semblance of color fills the screen while some music, generated perhaps from a record player, enhances the nostalgia.

In a world ripe with perils… ARE YOU PREPARED!

These very words stretch across the screen with the sound of a fire engine wailing. In the background old images of fire fighters sliding down a pole and police cars speeding through a dirt road can be seen.

Is your family READY for disaster?

The attempt to paralyze the viewing audience with fear continues to be the goal, first showing children eating ice cream in a park before cutting to a grizzly image, by 1950’s standards, of a trashcan on fire. Of course said fire is put out within seconds by an old man with an extinguisher in hand.

What do you do when DISASTER strikes?

Stock footage of people drinking martinis and smoking cigarettes at a social gathering is featured before images of bombers dropping their payloads are interspersed.

Narrator: We’re here to help relieve your fears by giving you step by step instructions. That’s why we’re here at this elementary school….

The narrator is presumably the man standing at the forefront of said classroom, although his words do not move in conjunction with his lips.

Narrator: Here we’re showing children what to do should the worse happen. Should YOUR home be hit with an attack from the IWC.

The children, who for some reason were puffing on cigarettes and drinking from jugs marked “XXX,” put away their nicotine and alcohol long enough to climb under their desks for protection.

Narrator: Should you be in the classroom, and have your prayer studies interrupted, you simply DUCK and COVER. Hide under your desks as necessary, as they should provide wonderful insulation against the waves of excitement brought on by an IWC attack.

The youths do as told, crouching under their desks, hands interlocked behind their heads.

Narrator: We all know how dangerous an IWC show can be.

The children are inexplicably back in their seats, all their bright white faces, apparently the room was ethnically cleansed, watching attentively.

Narrator: Amongst the side effects of such a show are….

A bullet-point list fills the screen.

Narrator: Extreme elation....

People of all ages can be seen on their couches, laughing and slapping their knees at the sight on their television screen. Images such as Jackson Adams forcing Billy Mayne to tap out, Simon Cagero hitting the Break the Silence on Riggs, and AWOL delivering the chokeslam through the ring on an unsuspecting Too Magnificent, are enjoyed by all.

Narrator: Conversely, some sufferers report episodes of anger and paranoia.

An old man with a furrowed brow glares at the television screen in a menacing manner, enjoying a cigarette in the process.

On his television screen there are scenes involving Porno Lad and Christian Savior delivering the spike piledriver on Hurse, as well as Katie Steward screeching in a primal fashion. Lastly there is a shot of Psycho driving Axl Evermore to the canvas with the Redeemer.

Narrator: And finally, in more dire cases, sufferers are afflicted with cases of sheer euphoria.

A family seated side by side with their faces frozen in a state of suspended animation, grin non stop towards their black and white sets. This time the screen is inundated with shots of Simon holding up the World Heavyweight Title, Johnny Kingdom drilling Porno Lad to the jaw with right hands, and Zero hitting the STO on BFG.

Narrator: That’s why your best course of action should you run by an IWC show is to DUCK and COVER. In Betty’s school….

The transmission cuts to another classroom where a young girl has her hand raised in the air. Once called upon she stands up, although she has trouble doing so given the extreme weight of her gown. As she speaks the narrator supplies her words, which in retrospect is kind of creepy, what with a forty year old man’s voice coming out of a little girl’s mouth.

Narrator: She asks the teacher, “how can we tell when an IWC show is in our neighborhood?”

She politely returns to her desk. The teacher turns towards her chalk board and points to two straight forward statements.

Narrator: The teacher tells Betty that there are two types of IWC shows, pay-per-views and the crap building up to pay-per-views. To be hit with a pay-per-view is the far worse type of attack, as victims are too spellbound by the chaotic action in the ring to turn away. This can often result in the loss of one’s bodily functions.

After explaining this the teacher takes a drag from her cigarette and smiles towards the camera, enjoying her sweet, sweet tobacco.

Narrator: You could be on the playground when an IWC show hits.

Kids playing stick ball can be seen before they hear loud “holy shit” chants in the background. They look around calm and complacently, showing not an iota of fear. Like robots they report to their pre-designated safety area, filtering in a single file line back into the school.

Narrator: You could be outside of your home.

Kids playing….stick ball….apparently that’s all children play, are shown outside of their home when the air is filled by the sounds of “that was awesome” chants. Once again the children drop what their doing immediately, although they make sure to properly put their toys back in their original positions, and then move towards their home.

Narrator: You could be on the street when the IWC hits.

A woman walking alone down a street with a shawl around her head is suddenly frightened by the telltale signs of an attack.

Porno Lad: The day of the Empire has long since passed….

The voice startles her, eyes darting back and forth.

Porno Lad:….because the Five Star Society is superior in every way.

Johnny: The Five Star Society is irrelevant in every single way.

The woman speeds up a little before the clip cuts to an older couple, also caught unaware by the IWC attack as they were leisurely strolling, and enjoying cigarettes.

Simon: I will not be beaten by a cheap facsimile.

Riggs: I’m no copy, Cagero, I’m even better than the original.

The elderly couple finds solace in the sign attached to a telephone pole surging with nuclear energy. The words “Public Shelter” are written upon it, with a tiny arrow directing them towards it.

Narrator: But what do you do if you’re not around a shelter or with adults and you suddenly see a flash of an IWC pay-per-view? Here we see Bobby and Lucy, two students who know exactly what do if they see the flash.

A boy and girl of a ripe young age skip down a sidewalk, why their skipping, simple, all the cocaine in their caffeinated beverages. Suddenly they see a flash of images superimposed over the screen. These images prominently feature Pat Evans DDTing Zero and hitting Jon Rich in the back of the head with a chain. There also shots of Too Magnificent being drilled in the skull with a steel chair from one Axl Evermore.

Narrator: See how their tight, nubile bodies leap against the wall, yes, that’s it, get in the position children.

The boy and girl immediately fall to the sidewalk while pressing themselves against a brick wall.

Narrator: Notice how Bobby covers his ears and eyes with his arms, so as not to be tantalized by the images. And how Lucy uses a plastic bag to cover her head from the danger. These are just two ways to protect yourself when an IWC show ATTACKS. Here’s Tony on his way to a cub-scout meeting.

A small child on a bike peddles down a road before there is a bright flash. Within this flash there are scenes of depraved violence as Psycho throws Too Magnificent into a flaming dumpster, followed by clips of Riggs hitting Cagero with a senton bomb through a table.

Narrator: Notice exactly what Tony does.

The boy parks his bike and immediately rushes to a small wall, throwing himself against it. Where this wall came from, don’t even bother asking.

Narrator: Yes, that’s right Tony, thatta boy, bend over….erm, I mean, get in the fetal position, yes, that’s right. Mmmmm. What was I saying? Oh yes. The most important thing to remember when seeing an IWC show is to DUCK and COVER! Like this picnicking family.

A family is strewn across a checkered blanket out in the middle of the field. Suddenly there’s a flash, and in said flash there are scenes of Christian Savior throwing Jackson Adams off of a stage, as well as clips of Fox Arcane hitting Evans with some dazzling aerial maneuvers.

Narrator: They know that the best thing to do is to DUCK and COVER. Get it yet?

One particularly smart woman throws the picnic blanket over her head to shield herself. Another wise beyond his years man has placed a newspaper in front of his face.

Narrator: Even a simple newspaper can protect you from the devastation of an IWC telecast.

Clips featuring crowded classrooms and lunchrooms are shown with the narrator speaking in that same robotic tone.

Narrator: Yes the time is now to start learning what to do if disaster strikes. For you never know when an IWC show will attack NEAR YOU! Next time, we’ll discuss what to do about the threat of a communist invasion. Are your parents COMMUNISTS? Find out!

EXTINCTION

Pyrotechnics enhance the excitement that sweeps through the Congress Theater. The fans bask in the glow of the many explosions rocking the stage and the special Extinction set. Giant finger prints are placed against glowing red panels. Each finger print flashes with the image of a different competitor’s face in the very center.

Billy Mayne: Ohhhh how I’ve missed this. Billy is back on pay-per-view and I’m joined by the loveliest of the lovely, your Goddess, my Goddess, everyone’s Goddess, Katie Steward.

Katie Steward: Yay, wow, big fireworks, people taking their shirts off in the crowd, how wonderfully tedious.

Billy: You sound as excited as I am, Goddess.

Katie: Then you must be deaf. I get paid double for pay-per-views right?

TOO MAGNIFICENT © VS. PSYCHO VS. AXL EVERMORE
CARTEL TITLE #1 CONTENDERSHIP

Cameras cut to the ring which is already surrounded by now just mesh, but barb and razor wire as well.

Billy: And we don’t have to wait very long to see something truly depraved and disgusting.

Katie: Oh? Are you going to drop your pants?

Billy: Noooo, but I could if you offered me some incentive.

Katie: How about I just puke in your lap?

Mayne: Works for me.

Katie: Yes, things ARE getting disgusting fast.

Mayne: The Psychotic Steel Cage is more erect than I am right now, and it will be the tool used to end the long standing rivalry between N.H.B Champion Too Magnificent, Psycho, and current Cartel Title #1 Contender, Axl Evermore. This should be nice and bloody. But let’s complicate things by discussing the rules just handed down by the IWC staff for this match. This contest will see TWO falls, not just one, no, no, that be too simplistic.

Steward: Good Goddess, simplicity in the IWC, unspeakable.

Billy: Exactly. The first fall in this Psychotic Steel Cage match will be contested for the number one contendership at the Cartel Title, the second fall will be for the N.H.B Title belt.

The lights go completely out and a dim purple and gold light ascends on the buidling washing it in soft colors. Suddenly the first drum beats of Burn It Down by Five Finger Death Punch is heard crashing into the PA System.

“You think you know me?”

The demented features of Too Magnificent are seen on the Cartel-Tron breaking into a deranged grin.

“You don’t know shit!”

The Cartel-Tron switches to a picture of the local building for the Alzeimers Society.

“I’ve seen the world through your eyes”

Again the Cartel-Tron switches to a medley of mugshots of other IWC superstars, past and present most notably Riggs, Psycho, Hurse, Jackson Adams, AWOL, Chapel, Mayhem, Christian Savior and a lingering shot of Johnny Kingdom as the lights go completely out again leaving everyone in darkness.

“IT MAKES ME SICK!!!!!”

The Golden One stalks through the curtain, garbage can in hand and his head shielded by what looks to be a towel, as always with a very expensive suit on, as sparks flood the entrance way lighting up the room with a huge explosion as the lights switch from purple to bright blood red.

”I’ve questioned all of your answers, they’re fucking LIES.”

The Cartel-Tron switches to pictures of Dan Douglas, Hurse and finally stops on Orlando Cruze.

“I work conform to your sytem… I’d RATHER DIE!

I BURN IT DOWN… Just to see it go
I BURN IT DOWN so everybody knows
I BURN IT DOWN I hate it to the CORE.”

Too Magnificent stops on the entrance way taking the towel off to reveal no bandages underneath. Just burned flesh, disgusting, demented, and sick. He looks up with a listless smile and starts walking slowly again toward the ring as the Cartel-Tron switches to the logo of the Mother Fuckers of America and back to Too Magnificent looking like he is going to kill someone.

”Think you’re a Mortar? Not hard to see…”

The Cartel-Tron comes to life again as Mag continues to walk ever so slowly down the ramp, Johnny Kingdom is seen standing tall about to deliver the Exodus Finale but then the camera switches to a shot of Magnificent and Simon Cagero fighting in the gauntlet.

“You want to rule the fucking world?”

A shot of Kingdom is shown nodding his head with the title over his shoulder.

“You’ve gotta get through ME!”

Again a shot of The Mother Fuckers of America is shown as the IWC ring is burning behind them.

“Your iron fist will be broken…”

A shot of Johnny Kingdom down on the canvas is shown.

No soul to sell…”

A shot of Riggs and Psycho pulling Too Magnificent toward the burning dumpster floods the CartelTron now as Too Magnificent turns around watching in disgust.

“You think I’ll burn for my actions? SEE YOU IN HELL.”

Reaching into the can, Too Magnificent pulls out a matches and lighter fluid, walking to the left side of the ramp now he lights a match and throws it as yet another explosion rocks the building and fireworks explode into the air reaching high up due to the lighter fluid. A shot of Too Magnificent rising from a pile of ashes now occupies the screen.

“I BURN IT DOWN!!!” I do it for myself”

Magnificent makes his way up the steps throwing his trash can into the ring on his way up, as the camera goes back and forth from shots of the Midas Touch being delivered on the likes of Psycho, Hurse and Jackson Adams and Magnificent readying himself in the ring.

“I BURN IT DOWN!!!!! For Me and No One Else”

The shot switches again from Too Mag to the CartelTron where a picture of Too Magnificent is shown standing in front of the entire IWC Roster… And then, the Roster fades into the background.

”I BURN IT DOWN… Just to watch it burn.”

The camera goes back to Too Magnificent now with a pissed off expression on his face.

”I BURN IT DOWN… I HATE YOU FUCKING ALL!!!!!!”

Too Mag now sits down in the corner staring in the direction of the ramp again with a look of pure hatred as the guitars seem to unleash the beast within him…. The official requests his N.H.B Title and has it thrown in his face.

Mayne: And if things weren’t already backwards enough…

Steward: That does describe Too Mangled perfectly, especially accounts for his teeth.

Billy: Pardon?

Katie: Oh wait, I thought you said “backwoods” not backwards.

Billy: Ah, anyhow, the Psychotic Steel Cage starting off the pay-per-view and the champion making his entrance first. Too Magnificent has been involved in some WARS the past few weeks over that N.H.B Title, but nothing has prepared him for this. A match that has only been seen twice in the IWC.

Through the cage door Too Magnificent strolls as casually as a man waltzing through the park. He overlooks the razors, the barbs, the mesh and the wall full of weapons, smiling as if he were a child in a candy store. The grin is erased the moment Axl Evermore’s entrance music hits. His attention is now directed at the curtains where just one of his challengers shall soon emerge.

A booming voice sounds over the PA, with one of those swooshing sound effects that build to a crescendo.

"You know who I AM, where I've BEEN, where I'm GOING, how I'll GET there...and all that's left is to tell you's that I'm finally HERE!"

The feed fades to the Tron video, and as the lead singer for Drowning Pool screams the opening "1, 2, 3, STEP UP!!" to their song "Step Up", a name is spelled out on the black video background in bold red Sofachrome font letters: Axl Evermore. In between some of the letters, a split-second of Evermore-in-action impact clips are shown. It fades to a front view of the stage, with Evermore--wearing his Fully Loaded team jacket--looking down on one knee, arms outstretched like he just landed from a jump. He stands up and he RVD's a thumbs pose, shouting "A...X...L!" as the crowd chants along, then thrusts open the snaps of his jacket. As a result the newly crafted N.H.B Title belt is seen around his waist.

He heads to the ring with stern focus and an energetic gait as the crowd cheers. He pauses just outside of the cage, removing the belt and handing it to the official positioned outside of the imposing steel structure.

Billy: What are you waiting for Axl? Get in there and take your medicine young man. Too Magnificent has been waiting to get his hands on you for a very long time now, and your chair shot to his skull last week certainly didn’t help your case.

Katie: Nor did it improve Too Malignant’s looks.

Mayne: The very first day Too Magnificent returned to the IWC he attacked Evermore and left him in a pool of his own blood. That was business, this is personal, so there’s no telling what wonderful things he’ll do to Axl tonight.

Evermore continues to linger at ringside, glaring through the cage wall into the face of his truly demented foe. That is until his focus shifts due to some all too familiar lyrics hitting the PA system.

“Soldier Side” seeps through the speakers and gives cause for a major reaction from the crowd, mostly a negative one. The former Cartel Champion steps through the curtains and smirks at the sight of the demonic structure only his twisted mind could dream up.

Katie: I guess this is the battle of the Ugly, the Uglier, and the Ugliest.

Billy: They may not look pretty and they may not have much talent but…..wait, I don’t have anything good to say about them at all. Oh well, it’s the thought that counts. At least we’ll never have to see them again after they murder one another in this cage. I can’t wait to see what Psycho does when he gets his hands oN Evermore. To bad this match isn’t taking place after we air a certain piece of footage from our quote un quote, World Heavyweight Champion later ton…..ohhhh my.

The fists are already flying as Evermore rushes up the ramp and opts to cut Psycho off. The Sadistic One doesn’t even knows what’s hit him as a fist connects with his jaw, being caught completely off guard. He goes staggering up the ramp with each blow while the crowd goes ape-shit.

Steward: I guess these two confused the ramp for a cage. Go figure.

Billy: I could see how THEY would make that mistake. As long as they’re pulverizing one another though, and staying away from us, I don’t care where they hurt one another.

Too Magnificent watches with a sly grin on his face, enjoying the sight of his rival’s maiming one another, making his work all that much easier.

Evermore eventually delivers a kick to Psycho’s ribs and then takes him around the neck, dropping into the Fully Loaded stunner on the ramp.

Mayne: Stunner already delivered!

The stunner snaps Psycho’s head back but surprisingly doesn’t take him off of his feet. He refuses to be taken down by the man who has been a torn in his spleen for so many months, since the start of the year now to its gruesome conclusion. Despite having his brain rattled the monstrous goliath stumbles around incoherently, catching himself just before he can go over.

Axl stands up, overlooks the screaming fans and can tell their getting just as big a thrill out of this as he is. His boot shoots directly into Psycho’s ribs and connects, putting him in position for a second Fully Loaded stunner. Evermore turns his back, hooks his arm around the neck and begins to drop only to be denied this time. He’s shoved off and sent stumbling down the ramp, vengeance slipping through his fingers.

The former multi-time Cartel Champion spins around and rushes straight at Psycho only to have his throat engulfed in the palms of the murderous sycophant. Before Axl can counter he’s lifted into the air and planted with the Redeemer right on top of the steel rampway. His back arches from the ramp after suffering the dreaded Gonzo bomb.

Billy: Ohhh yeah, that hit the spot. Redeemer on the ramp, and within seconds of this match….well, actually it hasn’t even gotten started yet, it looks as if Axl has been taken out of commission.

Katie: If he truly were a purchasable robot, I’d send him back to the assembly line for a lot of fine tuning.

The Redeemer has mangled Evermore’s body, possibly having shattered every bone in his spinal column. Psycho rises to his feet and rubs at his jaw, feeling the after-effects of that stunner. After popping his jaw bone back into place Psycho steps over his vanquished foe, approaching the cage that his twisted mind created. Too Magnificent waits for patiently, loitering in a corner. He just watches as Psycho starts up the stairs, enters the cage and then slams the door shut. A handy chain and padlock dangles from the door and Psycho quickly puts them to use. He secures the door in place, locking he and Too Magnificent inside while keeping Evermore out.

Billy: Some nice strategy by Psycho, he’s all but made Evermore a total non factor in this match now.

Billy’s speculation for once might be right on the money as Evermore lays sprawled across the steel, incommunicado. His body looks warped by the Redeemer, and incapable of participating in this sure to be barbaric foray. This leaves Psycho and Too Magnificent alone within the confines of the cage. Their eyes settle upon one another as they prepare to relive their glory years.

Billy: Ah, glory, glory, hallelujah, the time has come for these two nobodies to dissect one another into NOTHINGS.

Katie: Why must your dialogue be so nerve gratingly unoriginal? Oh yeah, that’s right, I’m still in the IWC. Although I don’t know how I ended up at commentary beside you again. I think someone spiked my drink.

Mayne: Of course not Goddess, I don’t think anyone would be so bold as to disrespect you. But if you suddenly feel itchy under the collar and want to take your clothes off, it’s okay, I can assure you it has nothing to do with the GHB pills in my pocket.

Katie: You’ve given me so much ammunition for a lawsuit.

The two borderline rabid competitors lurking in the ring exchange a long stare, realizing just what type of hell they’re about to put one another through. They show no fear, no reserve, no trepidation of any sort. Too Magnificent even smiles wider than the Cheshire Cat.

Their eagerness to inflict punishment becomes clear when Too Magnificent stops waiting and charges for the numerous weapons mounted on the cage wall. He removes the 2x4 immersed in barbwire and turns only to be met with a boot to the ribs from Psycho, causing him to drop the weapon and double over. The Sadistic One now takes Too Magnificent, charging him across the ring and attempting to throw him face first into the sharp wall of razors wire.

Billy: We bout to see some blood playas!

Katie: I guess I won’t be the only one suing this place.

With a twinkle of sheer delight in the corner of his eye Psycho tosses Too Magnificent’s face into the blades, waiting to see the satisfying sight of blood flow. The ghastly image will have to wait, Too Magnificent shooting a boot into the air, wedging it to the steel and preventing having his face further scarred at the hands of his rival. A back elbow to the jaw breaks Psycho’s hands away from his rival’s hair. He stumbles in reverse just as the Champion twists around and attempts the lariat to his throat.

Psycho is fast and smart enough to avoid the inbound blow. Stepping behind Too Magnificent and grabbing him by the hair. Before TM can even realize that he’s missed the lariat he’s being spun around and thrown cheek first into the many sharpened points of the razor wire.

Billy: Ohhh baby!

Steward: Did the table just elevate a few inches?

Mayne: More like a few feet, hahaha.

Too Magnificent’s body tries to ricochet from the blades slicing his skin, but his head is stuck to the wall, hair tangled in the demonic web of wiring. Within seconds of the match beginning the fans are already screaming out of some morbid delight.

Psycho for once shares their sentiment, watching with a smirk as Too Magnificent rips his own hair out with his bare hands in order to free himself. The moment he turns around his ribs are engulfed by the barbwire bat loaded with equally as jagged shards of steel. He doubles over, falling victim to the very weapon that he procured from the cage.

Billy: This is already getting twisted.

Katie: What, the torture your Goddess is experiencing in being forced to sit this close to you?

Billy: No, the brawl inside of the ring.

Katie: I was being sarcastic you mongoloid.

Billy: Did you just insinuate that I was some type of melon?

Too Mag’s body instinctively curls around his bludgeoned ribs, causing him to bend forward, entirely exposing his back. Psycho places the barbwire right to Too Magnificent’s upper back and drags down until the sharpened steel reaches his kidneys.

The most barbaric back rake in history leaves Too Magnificent growling and stumbling forward. A bit of blood already oozes from the gashes in both front and back, no doubt in a matter of seconds it will be flowing like lava from a volcano.

Having already taken care of one opponent tonight Psycho prepares to finish off the other with great haste and secure a title rich future. It’s his greed that leads him into peril. With 2x4 raised Psycho goes charging straight at Too Magnificent, who is just quick enough to reach out, catch the Sadistic One by his throat and prepare for the chokeslam.

Mayne: Something tells me we’re going to need another ring repair crew quick.

Steward: And a muzzle for my minion while your at it.

Psycho’s arm is thrown over Too Magnificent’s shoulder and grabs a hearty handful of the challenger’s pants, all final steps in preparation for a match ending chokeslam. Once again Psycho resorts to both his brains and his keen sense of violence, placing the barbs of the 2x4 to the back of the Champion’s wrist and slipping it across. Flesh is torn as a result, causing Too Magnificent to wince and break his goozle. He turns away from his opponent and falls into the wall of weapons, back exposed once more for some torturous lashings.

Psycho rears back on the 2x4 when he spots something he hadn’t catches his eye, something unexpected. He obtains a glimpse of Evermore approaching the ring, ribs cradled in one arm and the other supporting him against the barricade. He looks absolutely fired up despite the injuries he sustained on the ramp-way thanks to the far too overzealous Sadistic One.

Mayne: I guess Axl’s pony tail is too tight, it must be cutting off circulation to the brain and killing what braincells he had left.

Steward: Now your just being silly. In order to kill braincells you have to possess them in the first place.

Psycho anxiously pivots between both feet, looking like a kid in a candy store who is incapable of making a choice. Finally he decides verbally taunting Evermore would be the most fun, for now. With the fans encouraging his every step Evermore finally ends up outside of the Psychotic Steel Cage, looking in where the violence has gotten off to a blistering pace.

All he sees through the mesh and razors is Psycho’s smiling face. The Sadistic One takes the liberty of grabbing the cage door and shaking it to show that it is securely padlocked and there is NO WAY IN.

Katie: Awww, poor Axl, he’s locked out and can’t get in, the same thing happened at his senior prom.

Billy: I got locked in the bathroom.

The taunting continues as a livid, vengeful Evermore shakes his head from the ramp, realizing that he’s been locked out of a title opportunity. The only satisfaction he can derive from his current predicament is what happens next. He even takes the liberty of pointing to the very object that gives him such satisfaction. Psycho blinks awkwardly then turns just as a steel chair careens into his skull. The sound of steel meeting bone sickeningly reverberates throughout the crowd, who watches with gaped jaws and wide eyes.

Billy: That had to be one of the sickest chair shots I’ve ever heard. And I’ve participated in some pretty violent games of Musical Chairs.

The steel has a permanent impression of Psycho’s face, almost a portrait-esque indentation. The Sadistic One gets no satisfaction from the uncanny likeness as his eyes roll to the back of his head and he tumbles forward like a tree slowly tipping over. He collides with the canvas and the crowd rises to its feet applauding the shift in momentum. Too Magnificent steps back and raises the chair before swinging it down straight over his rival’s upper back. He lifts the chair and swings again, this time hitting with even more vile force. Little time and motion is wasted before the chair nails the back of the sadistic Challenger’s kneecaps.

Mayne: I don’t think Too Magnificent’s trashcan is going to like all the time he’s spending with that chair.

Katie: Inanimate objects can get jealous, minion. Just ask Jake Starr when he sees me holding the SCW World Title.

Finally after making his point by reducing every bone in Psycho’s body to a bloody paste, Too Magnificent flings the chair into the wall and takes a hands on approach. Neither the aggressor or the victim is aware of Axl’s grotesque display of heroism. In a suicidal act Evermore scales one of the cage walls, intentionally grabbing hold of barbwire in order to ascend higher and higher.

Steward: I think Axl has just proven my point about him having no braincells.

Billy: Does he really want to be maimed that badly that he’d actually mutilate himself?

Katie: He does it every time he’s home alone with a laptop and a credit card, so why not now?

The fans root Evermore on despite the fact that he’s skewering flesh from his palms. Axl grunts through the pain and with steely eyed devotion reaches the top of the wall, precariously climbing over. Meanwhile, down below Too Magnificent has Psycho trapped in a front chancery as he drags him to his feet, looking to inflict even more pain, this time of the Midas Touch variety.

Before he can connect Psycho wedges his hands to Too Magnificent’s ribs and shoves him off backwards. The force of the shove causes Too Mag’s lower back to hit the ropes and his upper spine to strike the razor wire wall. His flesh is sliced by the tiny razor blades and his hair once again becomes entangled in the wiring. The impact sends a reverberation through the whole wall, almost causing Evermore to loose his balance and go for a nasty spill. He steps over the wall high above his unsuspecting opponents, trying to figure out how he’s going to climb down, which should prove just as painful as climbing up.

Too Magnificent grits his teeth and tears out more hair in order to free himself from the cage. He rushes forward, leaving pieces of blond hair and tattered skin behind. He rips himself away from the wall like he were pulling duct tape from his lips, doing so quick and painlessly. Before agony can set in Too Magnificent’s adrenaline carries him and all his power into a fist across Psycho’s jaw.

The Sadistic One stumbles but doesn’t go over. He plants himself and responds with a shot of his own that nearly topples the Magnificent champion. Somehow he catches himself rooting his feet to the canvas then offers a five knuckle rebuttal, his counter argument nearly knocking Psycho out of his boots.

Mayne: Back and forth they go…wait a minute….don’t be STUPID!

Nobody is listening to Billy, the fans at home even muting their televisions to avoid him. Evermore is just one of many paying no heed to his biased ranting. He positions himself only for a second on top of the cage then back flips off, soaring through the air into what could only be described as a leap of faith.

Psycho and Too Magnificent look up just as Axl crashes into their shoulders with a moonsault. All three men are down yet the fans are standing, exploding with an orgasmic reaction.

Billy: AHHHH! He’s a fruitcake!

Katie: I think you’ve got the fruit part right.

A loud “holy shit” chant pierces the night, the crowd pumping its fists and reciting the blasphemous rhetoric to show their disbelief.

Mayne: Evermore just, well, he just moonsaulted off the top of the damn cage. The guy is two Jokers shy of a full deck.

Evermore graces the crowd with a nip up from the canvas that almost causes his internal organs to explode. He immediately doubles over upon landing, ribs gripped in both arms but finding the motivation to continue from the crowd’s vehement support.

He approaches the steel chair at this point, one of many weapons he has his choice of. He picks up the warped steel and props it upon the canvas in a seated position before planting himself on top of it. The challenger watches both of his opponent, pretending to clock with an imaginary watch just how long it takes for them to get up.

Surprisingly it’s Too Magnificent who is the first on his feet, and the first to fall victim to Axl’s wrath. Evermore stands up and boots Too Magnificent to the ribs before snapping back into a DDT that plants the champion’s skull right against the steel. He rolls to his back leaving Psycho and Evermore alone to carry on their age old rivalry.

The very chair that has proven so effective against Psycho here tonight is once again put to use, Evermore positioning the chair in order to spring off of it. He crouches in anticipation of his nemesis, Psycho struggling to reach his feet after taken the punishment of the moonsault.

The moment he stands Axl literally leaps into action. He rushes across the canvas, steps off of the chair, launches himself into the air and lands legs first across Psycho’s shoulders. He swings around and snaps off with the move, sending Psycho flying through the air and ultimately soaring face first into the wall made entirely of barbwire. His face digs into the shrapnel which embeds in his flesh.

Mayne: This is bad for Psycho…

Steward: Yeah, I don’t think he can stand to get anymore hideous.

Psycho leans through the ropes, face impaled on barbs and his arm slightly caught up in the steel as well. With Psycho so precariously placed Evermore just can’t help himself. He picks up the chair, turns in a full circle across the ring to build momentum and then leaps into a dropkick. The chair is placed under his feet at the last second and dropkicked straight into the back of Psycho’s head, digging his forehead even deeper into the barbwire.

Katie: Now this is just getting silly.

Mayne: It’s getting sick is what it is. I think I might need a barf bag.

Steward: Then just use your mouth.

Psycho’s face bounces from the steel wall as the barbs dig in a little deeper. The ricochet effect sends him tumbling to the ring and rolling across it, blood already seeping from his scalp. Evermore’s second wind gives him the pep and energy needed to climb to his feet and throw his arms up high into the air. The crowd gives him a just deserved ovation before quickly changing their tune. They squeal to alert him that Too Magnificent is charging in with boot leading the way.

Evermore barely has time to duck the big boot attempt by the vicious big man. After missing his kiss the N.H.B Champ staggers forward, catching himself before he goes over. He’ll wish he had just lost his footing because the moment he turns around Axl is throwing the ever so useful chair into his face. Too Magnificent catches it just as Evermore lunges into the air for a Van Daminator kick.

This time it’s the Champion who ducks the dangerous feet of his opposition. Axl twists in mid-air, comes down on his feet and is unaware that Too Magnificent is coming up behind him with chair still in hand. All of his attention is turned towards Psycho, who has shockingly recovered and is throwing a big fist directly at Evermore’s face.

Axl ducks again to avoid disaster and causes the powerful punch to go flying straight into the chair, knocking it back into Too Magnificent’s face and taking him down to the canvas as a result.

Billy: Uhhh, I don’t think that worked out exactly as the Champion had planned.

Katie: It might of, given his sick delight in pain.

Psycho shakes his possibly broken knuckles while Too Magnificent’s broken face lies under the chair. Before he can mend his injured hand Psycho is spun around and given a few dingers to the jaw. Evermore’s fists move with such speed Psycho is feeling the sting of the jabs before he even sees them coming.

He staggers but ultimately stays upright, just long enough for Evermore to build some momentum by shooting himself into the ropes. He bounces off and comes back in at Psycho who suddenly catches the inbound Evermore’s mid-section, throwing him up incredibly high above his head.

Psycho leaps into the air to meet his airborne opposition, catching the challenger around his neck and pulling him down into a diamond cutter. To emphasize and make this move even more disturbing than it already was, Psycho drags Axl’s face down from such a tremendous height directly into the steel chair stretched over Too Magnificent’s scalp.

Both opponents suffer from one of Psycho’s lethal, calculated kill moves.

Billy: Are you kidding me?

Katie: You can tell I’m joking when I start complimenting you.

Billy: How did Psycho pull that one of the old derriere?

The fans slap the barricades and stomp their feet to express shock and elation at the sight of such a sickening move. Psycho reaches his feet feeding off of the energy in the building and slits his finger across his throat. The gesture lets everyone know that he’s just getting started. He stands up at this point, grabs Axl, who is convulsing like a fish on the canvas and yanks him up to his feet.

Evermore is now heaved into the air and held high above Psycho’s head before he goes rushing towards the wall.

Billy: Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh….Psycho’s snapped!

Axl just begins to come too when he’s sent flying over the ropes, side first into the razor wire wall. His skin is sliced into strips as he slides down the wall and ultimately splashes to the apron.

Mayne: Yiiiiiikes. That was painful.

Katie: You want to know painful? Try listening to Stacy Kissinger cut a promo.

Mayne: Who?

Katie: My sentiments exactly.

Axl looks like he were just fired out of a cannon into an airplane propeller. He lies motionless on the apron, body quivering as a natural reaction to the sheer pain, his brain unable to deal with such severe trauma. The murderous, maniacal Psycho steps back, face twisted just like his soul. He takes delight in watching Evermore sluggishly grab at the ropes and attempt to reach his feet.

The crowd applauds his valiant effort as he gets to his knees, exposing the bleeding gashes left in his back. Luckily for him, Psycho’s attention has diverted back to the champion, already dropping into a lateral press across his chest. First he’ll secure the title then he’ll have more fun with his opponents.

Referee Fitzpatrick, who has had a front row seat to this chaos drops and makes the obligatory count.

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Too Magnificent’s shoulder is off the canvas well before losing his title. Psycho looks between him and the ref, the officiating staff having gotten on the madman’s last nerve as of late. Fitzpatrick defends the speed of his count and Psycho goes back to brutalizing his opponent. First Too Magnificent is sat on the canvas and then he’s kicked straight to the back of the head.

Too Magnificent is sent rolling across the ring and then propping himself up in a seated position against a turnbuckle. With chest heaving and body aching the brutality of this match finally begins to sink in on the champion, his brain catching up to the state of his frame.

Billy: This match almost ended after living up and superseding my expectations.

Katie: I guess it helps that your expectations were so low.

Mayne: Never hurts, it’s how I met my first wife.

The prone Champion watches through glossy eyes as Psycho approaches the wall of weapons and makes a selection. From the wonderful plethora of choices available the Sadistic One opts to grab, symbolically, the trashcan.

Mayne: Oh how bittersweet, he’s going to use Too Magnificent’s own weapon against him.

Although barely coherent Too Magnificent can feel something lying on the apron just off to his side, splinters break through the flesh of his fingers. He slowly begins to stand as Psycho steps to the opposite corner, trying to get as much distance between he and his opponent as process to maximize his momentum. He breathes furiously, shaking from head to toe before lifting the can into the air and taking off.

He bolts straight across the ring, lifting the trashcan up just as Too Magnificent steps out of the corner and swings the 2x4 wrapped in barbwire, directly into it.

Billy: BAM!

Katie: Stop it….your not Emril.

Steel meets steel and Psycho’s skull is what suffers as a result of this chance encounter. The trashcan flies back into Psycho’s face, causing him to drop the weapon to the canvas and turn away incoherently from the champion. He bends over, supporting his frame by wedging palms to his knees. All the while he tries to shake off the force of the head on collision, swiping some blood off of his forehead.

His moment of weakness leaves him exposed to a 2x4 rammed straight up into his crotch. From behind a kneeling Too Magnificent introduces the barbs directly into his rival’s taint region. He then pulls the wooden handle back and scrapes the barbwire straight across the Sadistic One’s genitals.

Mayne: OUCH! That even made me cringe.

Katie: Same here, and I don’t even have a penis, unlike that hoe Simon Cagero is dating.

Even Psycho cannot withstand the pain of dozens of little blades striking his nether regions. His face is frozen by the sheer agony flowing upward and tensing his body.

From behind Too Magnificent continues to put his kneeling position to use, hooking his rival’s inner thigh and rolling him back into a school boy.

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Psycho’s shoulder escapes the canvas just before the three count could be rendered.

Mayne: Even having his genitals mutilated wasn’t enough to put Psycho away. What the hell is it going to take?

Katie: I can’t stomach much more of this.

Billy: Yeah, this thing has been pretty violent thus far.

Katie: Actually I was talking about having to look at Too Repulsive’s face this long.

Although Too Magnificent is feeling generous, about to dish out some second helpings of pain, the moment he stands a steel chair wallops him to the ribs. He is bent forward before the chair cracks his upper back. The fans cringe at the sound of both of these truly sickening blows that bring the Magnificent One to his knees.

Evermore may be on unstable footing but he had enough in him to deliver two of the sickest chair shots ever seen in IWC history. Shortly after connecting with both strikes, that resembled the sound of gunshots, Evermore falls back into the ropes, having exhausted all remaining energy to thwart another of his opponents.

He finally steps forward and sets the chair up on the canvas, perhaps looking for another springboard move. Such a notion is quickly cast aside once Evermore adds to the steel by placing the 2x4 wrapped in barbwire right on top of the chair.

Billy: I don’t like this….

Katie: I don’t like any of it. No, no, “like” is too sweet a word.

Now that the weapons have been stacked and the trap laid, Evermore drops down beside the kneeling Too Magnificent, trying to completely incapacitate him with some clubbing blows and a few knee strikes to the top of the head.

The brain jarring blows have left Too Magnificent defenseless, unable to fend off the arms of Evermore that are leading him up to his feet. Axl has one arm wrapped around Too Magnificent’s neck and the other clutching at the back of his knee, looking to deliver an exploder suplex that would put him through the chair and the barbwire 2x4.

He lifts but the injuries inflicted on his body combined with the sheer weight of his opponent leaves Evermore unable to hoist him. He grunts and then attempts to lift once again only to be shut down with an elbow to the back of the head.

Axl winces and falls forward, only maintaining his upright base by the grace of his opponent. Too Magnificent charges Evermore by the back of his head towards the cage wall loaded with an arsenal of weapons. Before he can be thrown into the mesh Axl gives another rare display of sheer athleticism, stepping up the ropes and flipping back over the champion’s shoulder.

He lands with remarkable grace and poise right on top of his feet and the second they hit the canvas his throat is caught by the waiting hand of Too Magnificent. Axl’s confidence is shattered just like his back as he’s shot into the air and thrown with a chokeslam onto the set up chair. The steel breaks under Evermore’s body and the barbwire positioned over it rips deeply into his back.

Fans: THAT WAS SICK, THAT WAS SICK, THAT WAS SICK!

Billy: WOW! Nice work avoiding the cage wall buddy, did ya a lot of good, hahaha.

Katie: Must you ruin everything by speaking?

The chanting continues as Evermore lays across the mangled chair, back arched over the 2x4 wrapped in barbs. The Champion kneels beside him, blood flowing down his temple and body ravaged by the unparalleled violence of this match. After several moments of collecting himself Too Magnificent drops onto Axl’s chest and goes for the victory.

Fitzpatrick’s hand slaps the canvas with fans unable to keep themselves from counting along.

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All hope for a successful title defense is lost once Psycho throws himself into a back first senton splash right across the Champion’s spine. The weight pushes Too Magnificent down on top of Evermore and Axl down on top of the barbwire. The barbs protrude even deeper into Axl’s flesh as he remains arched over it. Psycho rolls away from both of his opponents, who lay on the canvas bludgeoned and brutalized, prime for the picking.

Billy: Now that’s how you break up a pinfall attempt.

Katie: Oh please, there are so many easier ways to break up a pin, like hiring someone to do it for you.

Axl, injured spinal cord and all, sits up on the canvas, his back lacerated with a multitude of thin gashes. His placement couldn’t be anymore perfect for Psycho, who limps in behind him, drops to his knees and unleashes with the deadly MMA elbows. Elbow after elbow drills Axl to the temple, rattling his brain against the confines of his skull.

Billy: Now he’s unloading with the elbows, this is going to come to a gruesome yet oh so enjoyable finale.

The point of the elbow hits the temple over and over again until the skull is almost shattered. Axl is no stranger to the elbow strikes and in the past has shown great resiliency in surviving them, but never after having been chokeslammed through a chair and thrown into razor sharp wiring. In spite of it all he shows the very grit and determination that has endeared him to the fans for so very long.

Mayne: Just tap out Axl, tap, tap, tap, it’s okay, there’s no shame in it.

Katie: Of course there’s shame in it. I’ve never submitted, ain’t gonna happen, no way, no how. I’d never be able to live with myself, and Axl already has enough to be ashamed about. I mean, have you just looked at him?

Mayne: I try not to.

A roar emanates from Evermore’s mangled body and gets the crowd pumped. The jazzed spectators are upright again and showering Axl with devotion, trying to feed him to struggle out of this hold and out of the elbows. Psycho isn’t letting go and he isn’t letting up. He finally stops throwing shots when he’s decided to incorporate a handy tool to aid in his destruction of Evermore.

He drops Axl to the canvas and approaches the razor wire wall. To the disbelief of all those watching Psycho grabs a bit of the wiring and actually begins to strip it away from the rest. He rips and tears at it until a single strand breaks away from the rest of the wall.

Billy: Psycho this is no time for you to indulge your interior decorator fantasy.

The wiring continues to be pulled away from the wall as Psycho steps to the center of the ring and now begins wrapping it around his elbow.

Mayne: Tell me I’m seeing things.

Steward: Nope, Psycho really is that stupid.

With razor wiring wrapped around his elbow and forearm, Psycho drops to the canvas behind Evermore, props him on his seat and picks up where he left off. Only this time the elbow connecting to Evermore’s temple and scalp is laced with razors that tear through the flesh and get the blood flowing from beneath.

FANS: YOU SICK FUCK, YOU SICK FUCK, YOU SICK FUCK!

Elbow laced with razor wire, after elbow laced with razor wire mashes Axl’s face and tears skin away from bone.

Mayne: This is sick, almost as sick as watching AWOL try to act.

The razors cut deeper and deeper, slicing through every layer of Axl’s flesh as his face slowly becomes a bloody pulp. Yet even with his face a crimson mask he refuses to give in, to tap out and relinquish not only his shot at the Cartel Championship but an opportunity at becoming the N.H.B Title holder.

Psycho shows no give, even as he mangles his own arm in the process of inflicting punishment. He keeps delivering the elbows at the expense of his own well being until Too Magnificent finally intervenes. Before Axl can have even the slightest notion of tapping out Too Magnificent grabs a weapon from the wall and steps behind his kneeling opponents.

Psycho is none the wiser until his jaw is pulled back and the Champion begins delivering shot after shot to his forehead with a railroad spike.

Billy: Youch!

As Psycho continues delivering the razor wire studded elbows he suffers numerous impalings from the spike. The Chicago fans are creating a ruckus in the stands, absolutely amazed by the sheer, depraved violence that they’ve witnessing.

The mutilation continues until the spike is thrown aside and Too Magnificent tears Psycho away from Evermore. The razor wire is still wrapped around his arm and leads back to the wall where it’s firmly attached. Too Magnificent realizes this, a disturbing grin coming to his face at this point. He takes Psycho by the wrist, sans razor wire and pulls on it.

Psycho gets to his feet as he’s dragged further and further away from the wall bearing the very wire wrapped around and now digging into his flesh. The more Too Mag pulls the tighter the razors clamp onto Psycho’s arm.

Mayne: This has just gotten ridiculously disgusting.

Katie: Just like Jackson Adams’ face.

The razors peel the skin from Psycho’s arm like it was a banana. Finally with enough force being exerted on his opposite wrist the wire tears off of Psycho’s arm and he’s freed. Freed just long enough to be whipped towards the wall completely immersed in barbwire. Too Magnificent grabs the back of Psycho’s head, throws him over the ropes and introduces his face to the barbs, some of which tangling up his hair.

Too Magnificent steps in behind him, grabs the back of his head and begins to rake his face back and forth across the wiring. The Sadistic One groans and moans as his face becomes no more than a pin cushion. After a prolonged agony, face and hair ravaged by the barbwire, Too Magnificent releases Psycho and allows him to fall to a kneeling base. That’s before he grabs some of the wiring that is still suck in the Challenger’s hair, prying it away from the wall. He actually begins to wrap some of the barbwire around Psycho’s skull and face.

Mayne: Now Too Magnificent is decorating Psycho’s head with the barbwire. What the hell are these two going to do next? Make a collage?

Katie: That would be more entertaining than what we’re seeing right now.

With his opponent’s head wrapped in a few strands of barbwire Too Magnificent sets into motion the next step in his plan. He approaches the very trashcan that has helped him so many times in the past, hoisting it into the air and swinging it directly into Psycho’s skull. The steel indents around both Psycho’s head and the barbs, forcing them into his already bloodied tissue.

Steward: This is probably the closest Too Preposterous has come to a ménage-a-troi, with himself, a trashcan and barbwire getting kinky.

Considering that Psycho is still on one knee it’s provocation enough for Too Magnificent to swing yet again. The trashcan smashes Psycho’s skull and takes him down to the canvas. Some of the wiring snaps back to the wall, removing itself from his torn epidermis.

Psycho crawls instinctively across the canvas, blood beginning to clot as it slowly oozes from his skull and hangs down to the canvas. Too Magnificent stomps away at the back of his head and his shoulders before cocking back the trashcan and swinging it into his upper spine yet again. The blow finally takes Psycho completely down, the challenger rolling to his back and finding his face buried under the very weapon that has done so much damage.

At this point Too Magnificent turns to a corner and points like he were Babe Ruth calling his shot. The fans explode with cheers, anticipating what he’s going to do next.

Billy: Why is this big hulking moron headed for the turnbuckle?

Katie: Who knows, who cares? I don’t, so neither should anyone else.

After being brutalized throughout this gruesome cage match Too Magnificent is understandably a bit slow in his ascent up the turnbuckle. Every step kills his traumatized muscles, blood dripping down his back, stomach and temple as he reaches the top rope and begins to turn around, setting up for the Arrogance is Bliss. Just as he turns around his plans are derailed by the trashcan that goes flying into his stomach, doubling him over as a result.

Psycho is back on his feet, stumbling and staggering as he tries to remain upright. Once again he’s forced to brush claret from his eyes with the aid of the back of his hand before starting after his startled opposition. Psycho progresses up the turnbuckle and deliver a straight uppercut to the doubled over Champion’s jaw. Too Magnificent stands back up straight, falling against the many weapons propped on the cage wall.

Billy: I think Too Magnificent is realizing how stupid it was to climb that turnbuckle.

Katie: He should realize how stupid it was to even get out of bed and step outside his home this morning.

The Sadistic One precariously climbs to the top rope and stands on the ropes running perpendicular to the ones that his rival is balanced upon. He delivers another jab to the jaw of Too Magnificent who almost falls over. He remains on the top rope though and even connects with a knife edge chop across the chest of the challenger in the process.

Now it’s Psycho who almost goes over and if it weren’t for a handful of mesh wiring he would collapse to the canvas. He shakes off the blow and then reaches out, snatching Too Mag by his throat.

Mayne: Ohhh terrific, careful boys, the Congress Theater might sue us if you put a hole in their floor.

Too Magnificent’s eyes are wide, realizing that he’s about to be put through the canvas with a chokeslam off of the top rope. He fights for his life and in the process is able to take the Sadistic One around the throat as well. The crowd screams, standing in anticipation of either Psycho or Too Magnificent taking the fatal plunge. They struggle against one another, opposing wills struggling for salvation.

Billy: Who is going for the ride?

Steward: Let’s hope it’s both of them.

Their hands squeeze tightly around their throats, choking the life out of one another but still refusing to be sent crashing to the ring so far below. The choice is taken out of their hands the moment they are hit with simultaneous blows to the ribs that puts them in crouched positions. The crowd watches in utter excitement as a recovered Axl climbs up the turnbuckle with his back facing both of his opponents.

He takes them around their necks and before anything can be done leaps from the top rope, pulling Psycho and Too Magnificent down into a stereo super Fully Loaded Stunner.

Billy: I think I’ve been blinded by sheer awesomeness.

Katie: Did I cross my legs?

Mayne: If you did you’d know, I’d be laying on the floor having a heart attack, but no, even I have to give credit where it’s due. A double stunner, a DOUBLE STUNNER off of the top rope.

The crowd is equally as impressed, jaws open, eyes wide, palms slapping together. Their faces may be in a state of suspended animation brought on my shock, but their voices are as loud as ever.

FANS: THAT WAS AWESOME, THAT WAS AWESOME, THAT WAS AWESOME!

Both Too Magnificent and Psycho remain stretched over the ring, bodies punctured, battered, mutilated by the sheer brutality of this unforgiving bout. Evermore is seated but in much the same condition as his opponents. If it weren’t for his sudden burst of adrenaline he’d be unable to block the crippling agony and crawl into the lateral press on Too Magnificent.

Billy: Well, at the very least we’ll get a new champion out of this match. It’ll actually count for something, other than scarring the fragile minds of the tots watching at home.

Katie: As if they weren’t permanently scarred already listening to your commentary and terrifying come-ons.

Every fan in attendance eagerly anticipates the slapping of the canvas a new N.H.B Champion being crowned.

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Axl has done it, a new N.H.B Champ…..hold that thought, Too Magnificent actually kicked out a fraction of a second before the ref’s hand could meet the canvas. Now the crowd is screaming for an entirely different reason, out of surprise and out of the joy of seeing Too Magnificent prevail even if it is at the expense of Evermore.

Mayne: I can safely say without a shadow of a doubt, that these guys are idiots.

Steward: Obviously Too Predicable is a sadomasochist as well.

Billy: He’d have to be both a sadomasochist and a moron if he wanted this match to continue. But I guess he has to be little Mr. Greedy Pants and retain his precious title.

With adrenaline still surging Evermore crawls across his knee, through a battlefield of debris, ultimately dropping onto Psycho. He hooks his leg, hoping that where he failed with Too Magnificent, he’ll succeed with Psycho.

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NOOO! Psycho’s shoulder escapes the ring and he rolls to his side, defeat avoided once again.

Frustrated with his opponents and himself, Axl rises to his knees trying to push past it all and concentrate on maintaining his advantage. His eyes catch something strewn across the cage wall, positioned beside several other weapons. The object of his fancy is the very item that finds its way into his hand, a pear of bolt cutters.

Mayne: Oh golly, I can just imagine what he’s going to do with those bolt cutters.

Katie: Hopefully he’ll be giving his opponents some much deserved castrations. We can’t risk either of these two contaminating the gene pool.

Evermore’s blood loss and fatigue may be catching up with him but he still has enough in the tank to limp towards the razor wire. The long strand that was yanked away from the wall remains extended over the ring before Evermore ultimately cuts it like it were no more than an umbilical cord. Cautiously Axl now takes that razor wire into both hands and approaches Psycho.

For once the Sadistic Savage despises his popularity as Evermore steps over his back and wraps the razor wire around his throat. The crawling psychopath roars in pain as the razors dig into his flesh and almost slice his throat from lateral to medial. He grabs at the wire desperately try to prevent the end of his life.

Billy: Is Axl actually trying to KILL Psycho?

Steward: Its taken him this long to get around to it?

Axl rears back, the razor blades caught under Psycho’s chin now but still threaten to severe some major arteries. Before a life can be extinguished Axl removes the razor wire and approaches the broken chair. After a bit of half assed repairs the chair is wrapped in the strand of razor wire until it is secured in place.

Mayne: These guys must have had a field day in shop class. Look at all the nifty things they’ve built just in the heat of the moment.

The chair raises into the air with the razor wire adding to the damage it is swung into Psycho’s lower back. A roar escapes from the Sadistic One who raises to his knees and scoots across the canvas. Slashes have been opened in his kidneys and spine as a result of this disfiguring blow. Speaking of disfigurement, it’s precisely what Axl is now doing to Too Magnificent’s face.

The Magnificent monster has risen to a knee when the busted, shattered chair, symbolic of the behemoth’s own body is wrapped about his skull. He teeters from knee to knee, threatening to go over as Axl crouches beside him, takes a deep breath and then delivers a scintillating superkick directly to the chair. The razors, the steel, the foot, everything collides directly against Too Magnificent’s features and sends him collapsing to the canvas.

He now lays side by side with his former friend and long time rival Psycho, both men lying in Evermore’s path of destruction. Shockingly it appears that Evermore is just getting started, evident by the fact that the chair is once again in his hand as he ascends a turnbuckle.

Billy: Where the hell is Axl going?

Katie: New Jersey?

Mayne: I wasn’t being literal when I said “hell.”

The chair dangles from Axl’s teeth at this point, suspended by a thread of razor sharp wire. Axl makes sure to avoid the blades coming into contact with his mouth as he climbs the mesh wall, nearing the top. The fans compressed around the barricades watch in wonder as he scales closer and closer to the tip of the mountain top.

Mayne: Uhhh, yeah, take what I said about Too Magnificent’s stupidity and double it for Evermore. Although I guess he has to do something drastic to take these two out.

Katie: This is where a gun would come in handy.

Billy: So true.

Every fan in attendance is spellbound by the image of Evermore climbing on top of the cage and then reaching out to grab the one of the steel cables hanging from the rafters and supporting the wall. He utilizes this very cable to reach his feet while switching the chair from his teeth to one of his palms. The moment he turns around and realizes just how high he is some doubt begins to set in.

He overcomes his fear though, his emotion outweighing his logic. As blood dribbles from his lacerated temple and cheek Evermore prepares for what could potentially be the most shocking moment in IWC history. He balances himself on top of two converging cage walls and waits for a victim to stand in the ring. His choices are widened as both Psycho and Too Magnificent struggle to reach their feet. Evermore waits to see the whites of their eyes beneath the layers of blood flowing down their faces before he strikes.

Once it becomes clear that they’re conscious he takes flight yet again from the top of the cage and receives a reaction loud enough to shatter every window in the Congress Theater.

Billy: AAAHHHH.

Axl swings the chair in mid-flight, on the verge of delivering a flying strike that will surely cripple his intended target. He flies all the way down from the top of the cage to the waiting palms below. Everyone, fans in the stands, fans watching at home, commentators, guys in the back, and especially Evermore are stunned as he flies from the cage straight into the open palms of both Too Magnificent and Psycho. They have him goozled and before anyone can even catch their breath Axl is hoisted from the canvas and hit with a double chokeslam from both of his opponents.

Mayne: Un-FRIGGIN-real!

A rousing “HOLY SHIT” chant has begun after the twisted image has played out inside of the ring. For the first time in over three years, Too Magnificent and Psycho worked as a team in order to vanquish their common foe. Evermore never would have dreamt up such a possibility after taking flight from the top of the cage. Now he lies on the ring, his body in spasms.

Billy: A double chokeslam by the former Lost Cause teammates.

Katie: What an appropriate tag team name for those two.

Unfortunately neither champion nor challenger is unable to take advantage of their handiwork. Psycho crawls into the ropes, utilizing them to begin his ascent upward, his face completely showered in crimson. Somehow Too Magnificent gets the wheels unclogged in his head, they begin to turn and he finds the inspiration to crawl into the cover. Even though he has no idea what he’s doing, on instinct Too Mag lifts Evermore’s leg for the three.

1

2

Psycho dives in at the last second, saving his title opportunity with a forearm to the side of Too Magnificent’s skull, refusing to give him the first fall..

Billy: And the pinfall is broken up at the last possible second. How do they expect anyone to be able to top this?

Katie: You forget that my name is on the card tonight.

Billy: Oh yeah, sorry.

Steward: I do not forgive you.

Too Magnificent gets some distance between himself and his two equally as traumatized opponents. Now that he’s cleared his opponent out of the way Psycho climbs onto the other, throwing his girth over Axl’s sternum. A forearm is wedged to the blood soaked face of Axl for further leverage. Psycho is on the verge of taking the first fall and winning the coveted Cartel Title number one contendership.

1

2

A kneeling Too Magnificent swings his fist into Psycho’s temple, causing him to break the pin attempt.

Billy: Now Too Magnificent is the one breaking up the pin. When is this going to end?

The epic bloodbath continues as Psycho turns sluggishly to his knees and slowly approaches a weapon left in the corner of the ring. He has no idea that behind his back Too Magnificent is mirroring his actions. The giant scoots across his knees towards his favorite weapon and closest associate, the trash can. He snatches it off of the canvas and then struggles to his feet, prepared to employ it to finally end his long standing issue with the Sadistic One. That’s before his eyes find their way to a collection of objects that should make his trashcan into an even more destructive element.

He reaches out and almost falls over in the process but it doesn’t matter, he still managed to grab hold of both a Bic and a bottle of lighter fluid.

Billy: Who decorated this cage? Who in their right mind would put these weapons on the wall? What the hell were they thinking?

The crowd, despite being out of breath a mere twenty minutes into the pay-per-view, still find the will to scream. They wait eagerly, forehead sweating and bodies shivering at the thought of what Too Magnificent is about to do. His depraved mentality becomes crystal clear as he douses the trashcan with lighter fluid, pouring the whole bottle on thick.

Katie: If he plans on setting a fire can he at least do it to your face, Minion?

Mayne: I’ll pretend that you met that in a nice way.

Before the crowd can even wrap their minds around what they’re about to see the Bic ignites the trashcan, sending flames towering into the air. A careless Too Magnificent grabs the trashcan and lifts it high into the air, showing that the center is engulfed with flames, fiery hatred intended for the Sadistic One’s face.

Billy: This isn’t going to be pretty.

Katie: Nothing about this match has been.

The flaming steel remains above Too Magnificent’s head as he turns towards a crouched Psycho and prepares to unleash his fury. He steps in but before he can swing the flames into the scarred features of his rival, a steel spike is driven directly into his forehead. The weapon Psycho procured from the canvas connects against the bridge of Too Magnificent’s nose, and the crowd gasps as a result.

Billy: Psycho saving himself.

The Sadistic One turns away from Psycho, taking comfort in the thought that his skin will not be melted here tonight. Sadly he turned his back too soon, now unaware that Too Magnificent is not only still standing, but shrugging off the shot from the spike and raising the flaming trashcan into the air once more.

Psycho turns around just as the trashcan collides with his face, flames burning his hair and his skin. The Sadistic One collapses to the canvas, smoke rising from his face.

Mayne: MOOOOO!

Katie: As if Psycho needed anymore help being hideous.

As expected the fans chime in with their thoughts.

Fans: HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT!

Psycho is on his back within seconds, eyes sporadically blinking as he clings to what remains of his consciousness. Standing above him, body powered by mere fumes is the champion, who’s adrenaline is now fading. The flaming trashcan remains above his skull, ready to be employed as a weapon yet again. Psycho, even after suffering one shot from the flaming starts to ascend to his feet. The wounds on his scalp have been seared shut thanks to the flaming can.

He reaches his knees, eyes fluttering beneath a mask of crimson. They only remain open long enough to see Too Magnificent step in and swing, once again putting the trashcan to use in what is sure to be the final blow on the contest.

Unfortunately for the champion the final blow doesn’t come from his trashcan, it is delivered by Psycho in the form of a spike being driven straight into Too Magnificent’s groin.

Billy: HOLY CRAP!

The crowd is almost as in much pain as Too Magnificent, his face twisted and paralyzed by the agony creeping out of his crotch, which has been impaled by a spike. He finally drops the trashcan and collapses to the canvas while Psycho takes a fortunate tumble forward on top of his opponent. His arm falls over Too Magnificent’s sternum, the referee making the count to cement the pinfall.

The referee slips into position, slapping the canvas to make the three and possibly crown a new contender for the Cartel Championship.

1

2

3!

The crowd is shocked to see the Sadistic One pick up the first fall in this high stakes bout, netting himself a future shot at the Cartel Title.

Billy: Psycho takes fall number one, pinning Too Magnificent and winning an opportunity at the Cartel gold. That isn’t going to sit very well with Evermore.

Katie: Who cares?

Mayne: Good point.

Psycho rolls away from the bloodied and possibly castrated champion, now crawling towards one of the turnbuckles. The big man falls against the corner, crimson dripping from his chin to the turnbuckle pad.

From the corner of his eye he spots Evermore TRYING to get up even after suffering a heinous stereo chokeslam. With every muscle in his body hurting from the sheer, unmitigated horror of this match, Psycho stands up and stumbles in to finish off another of his age old rivals.

He wants to put a definitive end to Evermore, although there is really no cause, given the fact that he could EASILY pin Too Magnificent a second time and win the N.H.B Title in the process. However, Psycho’s avarice and desire to maim Evermore clouds his judgment. The normally cold and calculating Psycho shows a rare glimpse of emotion as he sinks both hands into Axl’s throat. From his kneeling position Evermore is hoisted into the air and onto his feet. Psycho shivers, taking great satisfaction, tremendous joy in the move he’s about to deliver, one last Redeemer that will finally cripple the man who has been an annoyance for well over a year.

Mayne: Everyone wave goodbye to Evermore, your not going to see him for a while.

Katie: Good, then I can finally stop wearing this blindfold.

Evermore is shot into the air and about to be left in a permanent state of paralysis. In this elevated state Axl shocks the world, by twisting his body, freeing his throat in the process, grabbing Psycho around the neck and countering the Redeemer into a Fully Loaded stunner. Psycho snaps back yet is still standing.

Mayne: WHHHHATTT!!?!

Katie: Must you offend my ears with your high pitched wailing voice? Speak at a lower decibel or don’t bother speaking at all.

Billy: How did Evermore just do that?

The crowd watches as Psycho teeters back and forth before ultimately, FINALLY, collapsing to his back across the canvas. Evermore is left in a near crippled condition as he sits on the canvas, his breathes labored, half of his blood oozing out of the slashes littering his body. In spite of it all Axl rolls to his knees and crawls painstakingly into the cover on the prone Psycho.

He throws himself over Psycho’s body and hooks the leg with all the fans in attendance counting along with the official.

1

2

3!

An explosion of cheers rocks the Congress Theater, everyone jumping from their seats as Evermore has just picked up one of the biggest wins of his career after perhaps the most grueling match of his career.

Billy: There’s no way I’m seeing this. He had him, Psycho HAD Axl, and he still squeaks by with the victory? Say it ain’t so. Say it ain’t so!

Steward: I wish I could, but I only state and glamorize the truth.

Blood soaked and beaten Axl reaches his feet, arms thrust high above his head, body filled with puncture wounds and more lacerations than he can count. In spite of it all he raises his arms up high, basking in the reception from a crowd that threatens to blow the roof off of the building with their reaction. Although he’s just walked through what felt like a minefield, triggering every bomb with each step, Axl climbs up the turnbuckle, grabbing the mesh to support himself and raising a single fist up high into the air.

Billy: Like it or not he’s done it.

Katie: Well I don’t like it.

Billy: Neither do I, but yeah, he still did it. Evermore walks out of here as the NEW N.H.B Champion.

The crowd is giving Evermore a standing ovation as he has just added the illustrious N.H.B belt to his ravaged body. The fans are on their feet applauding after one of the goriest matches ever witnessed, the Psychotic Steel Cage living up to its moniker here tonight. The belt is handed to Axl and he lifts it high above his traumatized body, having won the gold in the process of finally pinning his sadistic rival.

AN ACE IN THE HOLE

Katelyn: People consider THAT wrestling?

Porno Lad: Yes, mostly Norwegians and Swedes.

The interview area is in a state of commotion as the Five Star Society chats it up. Every member of the group is present and in the middle of their own little meaningless dialogues, pausing only to chuckle arrogantly. Somewhere in the middle of the mob is Michelle Blacker, fighting to get her way to the camera.

Michelle: I’m backstage, as if you couldn’t tell that already, and as you can see I’ve been swamped by the Five Star Society, and for God only knows what reason.

Robin: We were just getting to that.

From the sea of bodies emerges both Michelle and Brooks, squabbling over the microphone. The Black Widow finally forces the mic from Blacker’s hand then slaps her fingers away.

Brooks: If you would stop being so impatient the Five Star Society would have told you why we hijacked your interview.

Michelle: Well, ummm, aren’t you still going to tell me?

Robin is silent for only a moment before shaking her head and continuing.

Robin: Noooo. You’ve lost the right to hear our extraordinary explanation. Put your fingers in your ears.

Michelle: Seriously?

Brooks: YES! Take your fingers out of your dike and put them in your ears!

Before Blacker can do it herself Autumn Daniels and Paris Dannon grab her fingers and force them into her ears.

Brooks: Excellent. Now we can get down to business and discuss why our lovely faces dawn your television screens.

Katelyn: Don’t worry Mr. Kingdom, it has nothing to do with more DX inspired antics.

Buehler pulled the mic close to her lips to get a word in edgewise before finding herself in a tug of war. The mic is now drawn to Porno Lad’s lips.

Porno Lad: Yeah, no leprechauns here, unless you count Billy Mayne. We, the Five Star Society, actually let me repeat and emphasize that, THE FIVE STAR SOCIETY, have a very important message. A message of RELEVANCE. A message that will have BLOCKBUSTER implications. So I hope the Empire is somewhere and listening. They had better turn up their hearing aids a little because they’re not gonna want to miss this.

The battle for the spotlight proceeds as Brooks forces the microphone to her smirking lips.

Robin: Do you guys really think that you have us…..

Porno Lad snaps his fingers anxiously in front of her face. With a sigh Robin rephrases.

Brooks: Do you guys really think that you have THE FIVE STAR SOCIETY worried?

She glances at the Original Prankster, who now nods approvingly.

Robin: Well we aren’t, we’ve taken down one of you, and mark our words, another will go down tonight. Or maybe we’ll….

The snapping begins again.

Robin: Or maybe THE FIVE STAR SOCIETY will concentrate on taking out Orlando’s little henchmen, whomever he may be. Christian is actually off dealing with that annoyance this very second. Speaking of surrogates, if Orlando is bringing in a replacement for Hurse, just because he’s got a wee lil booboo on his necky poo, then the Five Star Society should have the right to bring in a ringer as well. We even have a medical basis for doing so. If nobody noticed, which is understandable since I do such a good job of hiding it, I’m with child.

She turns just to make her bulging stomach more prominent.

Brooks: Which means that this little hell-spawn in my tummy makes it impossible for me to compete. So it’s only fair, it’s only JUST, that the Five Star Society brings in a replacement of our….

A frown is directed at her by PL.

Brooks: Ugh…..that the Five Star Society brings in a replacement for the FIVE STAR SOCIETY’S team.

Porno Lad: And we just so happen to have a surrogate waiting in the wings. Seems to me that the Empire’s flush is about to be trumped by the ACE up our sleeve.

Without much more beating around the bush Ace Marshall saunters into the scene. He joins the ranks of the Five Star Society, brushing off his jacket sleeves in the process.

Porno Lad: You heard it here first folks. Robin’s replacement will be none other than my SCW Tag Team partner, the Greaternity creator. And you know what always beats a Jack and a King don’t you? An ACE.

The mic is extended to Mr. Marshall so that he can finish his long time associate’s thoughts.

Ace: I don’t think I could have summed it up any better. Well, I could, but what’s the point in trying, this is the IWC after all. But yes, smarks, marks, and internet tools, hop to your blogs now, jump on your forums, take your hand out of your pants and put it on the keyboard, because this is some hot news you just HAVE to spread. Ace Marshall, for the first time, and judging by the smell, possibly last time, will compete in the IWC.

Porno Lad: I can already feel buyrates tripling.

Ace: They’ll need to in order to pay off my huge booking fee.

Porno Lad: The price-tag will be well worth it. Besides, with us in charge, we can always downsize the roster a little to compensate for your astronomical cost.

Brooks: I’m sure a few members of the roster wouldn’t mind being paid in pesos.

Ace: Good, as long as my bank account and the Five Star Society are flourishing then all should rejoice. For one night only Ace joins the Society and brings down an Empire.

Robin: Yay, with Ace on our side we’ll be unstoppable.

Paris: Ace should ensure victory for the Five Star Society, not that a win wasn’t already a guarantee.

Katelyn: Ace BANGED me.

All eyes turn towards the back of the crowd where Katelyn is standing with a huge smile on her face. It finally dawns on her that she’s totally killed the vibe, causing her head to lower.

Porno Lad: Anyway bring your best Empire, and put whatever legend you’ve got in the ring with us Orlando, none of it will matter. Nobody, not Kingdom, not AWOL and sure as hell not Jackson Adams, are going to vanquish the Five Star Society tonight.

Robin: This is so exciting. The Five Star Society, Ace Marshall, all together, what could go wrong?

With the Five Star Society walking on clouds they depart from the standard interview zone. Ace joins them, being slapped on the shoulders by Katelyn and Kitty, officially welcoming him to the team. As all parties pass out of frame they leave Blacker behind, her ears still plugged by her fingers. Finally she removes her digits from her ear canals and shakes her head, looking even more disgusted than usual.

Michelle: Hmmm, I hope we see a lot more blood tonight, and not just because it gets me so frisky…..

She realizes that the camera is still positioned on her, bringing Michelle to finally acknowledge it.

Blacker: What? I can’t help it I’m still turned on by that Psychotic Steel Cage match. I haven’t been this hot and bothered since I saw Passion of the Christ, and another thin….heeeellllloooo.

Her train of thought is derailed the moment she glances down and spots a CD laying on the floor. She doesn’t question how it got there, too enthralled and excited by the name of the artist, “Inkubus Sukkubus.”

Michelle: Is it Christmas already?

She eagerly reaches for the goth CD only for it slide across the floor just out of her reach. Confusion sets in on Blacker, who reaches out once more. The CD slides even further from her fingers. It is now apparent that the case is attached to some string that is pulling it closer and closer to an open doorway. Michelle, like a gnat drawn to a light, maintains her pursuit.

Michelle: Come back here….

The CD is eventually dragged through a doorway into a dimly lit room. The sweaty Michelle follows it right inside. From behind the door a figure is revealed, the string gripped in his hand. Fox Arcane glances at the camera for only a moment before winking and closing the door.

EARLIER TONIGHT

The shows cuts to a pre-recorded video with Billy Mayne and Katie Steward providing narration.

Billy: The Five Star Society making a bold proclamation and bringing in a HUGE ringer.

Katie: They’ve basically put together an SCW dream team to battle the Empire tonight. They don’t stand a chance. This is just like when the Generals face the Harlem Globetrotters.

Mayne: And I don’t even want to know what was going on with Fox Arcane and Michelle Blacker at the tail end of that segment. Anyway, as everyone knows by now here tonight at Extinction there will be a LEGENDARY match.

Katie: One that should be included in the history books.

Billy: And it undoubtedly will be. We’re talking of course about the Dance Off, scheduled between Rick-Rohl and more importantly, BFG. Earlier tonight we had the official weigh in between both men for this historic encounter.

The play button is presumably hit and now images of BFG and Rick-Rohl can be seen standing upon a stage. Some scales have been set up in front of them as cameras flash from the sea of sports reporters down below. Even as their inundated by questions from said reporters both Rick and BFG, dressed in matching blue robes, give one another the good old fashion stink eye. The MC for this weigh in is none other than Daniel Ackart.

Ackart: Tonight ladies and gentlemen, you will all be in store for what will undoubtedly be named 2009 match of the year. Fuck that, actually, let’s just go ahead and call it the match of the DECADE!

BFG nods, looking extra confident.

Ackart: But before we can get to this guaranteed show stealer, we need to do the official weigh in. Don’t ask me why, but apparently it’s a necessity before any big fighting event. So Rick-Rohl, would you be so kind as to step onto the scale?

The gyrating goliath does not take his eyes off of BFG as he steps up onto the scale and undoes the knot in his robe. He removes it and tosses it aside, revealing that he’s wearing only a pear of boxers beneath. Flashbulbs explode throughout the voyeuristic crowd, catching several images of Rick’s pose. He does a quick flex to their sheer delight and BFG’s disgust.

Ackart: Can we get the official weight from our medical staff, please? Like now. Hurry the fuck up.

The elderly medical trainer moves as slow as malaises as he operates the weights on the scale in order to ascertain Rick’s approximate size. Daniel steps in to get a first hand look before nodding with approval.

Daniel: Coming into this epic Dance Off, Rick-Rohl weighs in at an approximate 277 pounds.

Rick’s eyes widen when he hears he’s gained about two pounds. He shakes his head mumbling the words “that just can’t be right.” He now reaches down and grabs his boxer shorts, beginning to remove them in the belief that they’re throwing off the measurement.

Ackart: No, no, no, no….

Daniel urgently waves his hands through the air, cutting Rohl off before he can be weighed entirely in the buff. The MC covers the mic with his palm, hoping that no one will be able to hear his stern statements.

Daniel: What the hell is wrong with you? This isn’t the strip club, you can’t just go shaking your thing all around. Here, I’ll give you five bucks to KEEP your shorts on.

True to his word Ackart removes a five dollar bill and puts it in the waistband of Rick’s shorts. It does nothing to calm Rohl down, especially as he hears BFG laughing hysterically.

BFG: Hahahahaha-AHAHAHAHA, FAT-ASS!

Rick has to be physically restrained by his corner men, holding him in place as BFG continues to poke fun at his size.

Ackart: Alright BFG, your turn, step onto the scale.

BFG: No problem, and unlike Rick-Rohl, I won’t break it either.

Again Rick tries to get his hands on BFG only to be held back.

BFG: Me, I lost weight for this match. I used the bathroom four times before this weigh in, meaning I had to drop like ten pounds.

Daniel: We’ll see, now get your big ass on the scale.

The big bodyguard climbs up onto the scale which goes absolutely nuts. The medical trainer has no idea what to make of it as the horizontal lever bends, almost snapping as the weighs all slide to one end. Despite the fact that he’s literally shattered the scale, BFG continues smirking like he were an Adonis. He removes his robe and tosses it aside, allowing all of his blubber to hang out and revealing that he did not have the common decency to wear a pear of underpants. Instead a g-string is stretched to the point of snapping around his gargantuan frame.

Ackart: Uhhhh.

The trainer whispers into Daniel’s ear.

Daniel: Can we please get a second scale out here?

BFG looks confused as two stagehands bring another scale to the stage and position it right next to one he’s currently standing on. Both Daniel and the trainer urge BFG to do something and after much debate between them the big man finally puts one foot on the new scale. It literally takes two scales just to ascertain his weight.

Ackart: And weighing in at around….that’s not possible…..that’s INHUMAN. What the fuck do you eat? Do you live at McDonald’s? Did you eat Grimace?

BFG: Screw this.

The hired gun snatches the microphone out of Daniel’s hand and now approaches a grinning Rick-Rohl.

BFG: I don’t see why your laughing.

Rick-Rohl: Maybe it’s because your ass looks like a walrus flossing.

The crowd of reporters chuckle at the reference to BFG’s g-string.

BFG: You go right ahead and make fun of my weight if you want, all it means is that I’m more man than you.

All Rick can do is sigh.

BFG: It means there’s more BFG to go around. But don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of BFG left to diss you on the dance floor SUCKA.

The microphone in his grasp is shoved forcefully into Rick’s chest. The moment contact is made the Chippendale’s dancer lunges at his rival only to be contained by his crew. BFG tries to get physically involved only to be restrained by officials at this point. The highly combustible environment is finally cut away from as Extinction comes back live.

RIVER ANGELUS VS. FOX ARCANE
X-CLASS TITLE CONTENDERSHIP

The spectacle continues as Billy and Katie sit behind the announce table ready to do their own weigh in.

Billy: Big words from two big men.

Katie: Please, pppppllllleeeasse don’t tell me BFG is going to dance in that g-string.

Billy: If there truly is a God he won’t allow such blasphemy.

The Psychotic Steel Cage is still being disassembled, with the final wall being taken down by a swarm of stagehands.

The sound of a wolf howling, or perhaps it is a fox, is heard and the audience quiet down until they hear the words ‘Straying! Straying!’ of Wolf Rain’s ‘Stray’. The lights go everywhere searching for where the pedestal is going to rise. The audience l ook around too, because they know that it could rise right beside them. The camera picks up where the audience is backing away and focus on it. It sees the platform as it rises while the music continues to play. Rising there is Fox Arcane. He has a bit of a grin on his face. Looking around he puts his hands out to get fives from the audience members. He leans back and lets out a howl that the audience joins in and then rushes past them down to the guard rail. He leaps at top of it and turns to the audience. Standing there he raises his hand slowly and then pumps it three times while pyro goes off around the ring. He jumps off and slides into the ring. He kicks his feet up on the turnbuckle and lays there waiting for his opponent.

Billy: Why does Fox look so utterly satisfied, and what’s with the cigarette in his hand? He didn’t. No. There was no way he had enough time.

Katie: Arcane strikes me as the type who can MAKE time.

Mayne: What? Like he’s Doc Brown or something?

Steward: No, Minion, your not getting what I’m saying. I think Fox can work around time restraints.

Billy: Here’s hoping he has enough stamina to make it through this match with River Angelus, who made a surprising return on the last Riot!

Steward: Are you talking about that guy who is as pale as a bed sheet?

Mayne: That would be him.

Katie: Yuck, I hope he beats him quick.

Official Wright steps towards Fox and points at the cigarette in his mouth, demanding he put it out. He then extends his hand to take the butt. Arcane misrepresents, “apparently,” and puts the lit cigarette out with the use of the official’s extended hand. Wright leaps around, grabbing at his hand and wincing in pain.

Billy: I don’t think that Fox has endeared himself to the referee.

Katie: That guy looks like he’s use to having lit cigarettes put out on him.

Wright gets straight up in Fox’s grill but Arcane is far too mellow to argue. He looks completely satisfied, even as the entrance music of his opponent hits the PA system.

The opening Cello begins to play and the first lines are sang over the top of the speakers “I try to make it through my life, in my way, there’s you”. River walks out from behind the curtains and looks out at the people and smirks and puts his head down and walks slowly towards the ring till the point where the chorus beings up and River rolls under the ropes “If you are dead or still alive, I don’t Care... I don’t care”. River walks over throwing his coat in to the corner of the ring and warms up ready for the fight.

Mayne: And there he is, quite possibly the palest man alive. If this guy walks out in the snow he’ll be perfectly camouflaged.

Katie: Here’s hoping he wrestles better than he looks.

Billy: Well, no matter how bad this match may be, at least it won’t be as horrendous as Suburban Commando.

Katie: Huh?

Mayne: Surburban Commando? You know, it’s a movie with Hulk Hogan and Christopher Lloyd. I was frozen TOOOODDAY!

Steward: The only time I watch TV is when TMZ is reporting on my activities.

Wright, burnt palm and all, motions for the bell to officially start this X-Class contenders bout.

Billy: And this match is underway.

Wright shows that he’s impartial, demanding that River fork over the Singapore cane just like he ordered Fox to hand him the cigarette. He winces, having no idea what to expect from the smirking Angelus who begins to fork over his weapon. Just as Wright begins to wrap his fingers around it, River yanks the staff back and turns just enough to snap the official in his bottom with the cane.

Wright yelps and leaps into the air before grabbing at his rear-end.

Mayne: Now River busting the buns of referee Wright.

Katie: Shouldn’t they save that for the post show shower?

Billy: Not literally busting his….for the love of God, forget it, I’m sick to my stomach now.

In anger the abused referee grabs the cane out of Angelus’ hands and scolds him for his sophomoric antics. River shrugs and offers no explanation. Unfortunately his humorous interaction with the official has left him unaware of the scoundrel, Arcane’s positioning. Fox slips in behind River, hooks his thigh and pulls him back into a school boy. The official throws the cane out of the ring and turns around, sighing.

Wright: The bell hasn’t even rung yet.

Arcane: Well RING IT!

Again Wright sighs and motions for the bell to officially start the contest. He then turns around and apathetically drops to the canvas, making the count.

1

Angelus not only kicks out but transitions his body so that he sits up at Fox’s side. He grabs the arm of Arcane that was holding him in the pinning predicament and then leans back into the fujiwara. The very arm that Porno Lad targeted on the last Riot! now becomes Angelus’ focal point.

Mayne: If Fox is gonna go for the quick pin, then Angelus is going for the quick submission.

Steward: Well thank God it’ll end quickly. That’s what’s important.

Fox’s already injured arm threatens to force him into a untimely submission. Before he can be vanquished by Angelus and his preexisting injuries, Fox ducks his head and tucks into a forward roll. He reaches his feet, but finds his wrist is still gripped in River’s hand. Angelus stands up and pulls Fox in, catching him around the neck with a side headlock this time.

Once again Arcane reacts with super human reflexes. He twists his body out of the side headlock and hooks both of his opponent’s arms, going for a back slide into the pin. The pin is avoided however, thanks to River’s equally as quick reaction. He frees one arm from Fox’s hand then turns in the process of wrapping up Arcane’s bicep. Yet again River is trying to force Fox down into the fujiwara.

Billy: Good, no, not good, wait, good again.

Fox reverses the attempt at River’s reversal while the crowd goes crosseyed from the sheer amount of reversals. Arcane drops to his knees, reaches out with his hand hooks the front of River’s ankle. He pulls up on it, causing Angelus to tumble forward into the canvas.

As soon as River hits the canvas Fox tucks into a forward roll. He rolls right over Angelus’ back then ends up landing directly at his side. The dangerously fast Fox stands up, taking one of Angelus’ arms into his hands and then twists it around his knees. He leaps forward, grabbing River’s far arm and hooking it before ultimately pulling his opponent over onto the back of his shoulders.

He holds him in a variation of the Oklahoma Roll.

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Angelus gets his shoulder off of the canvas.

Katie: Oh great, now we have to keep looking at him.

Billy: This match continues with Angelus and Arcane going back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Quick, give me something to throw up in.

Steward: Take your hands off of my tiara!

Arcane argues with the speed of the official’s count while Angelus utilizes the distraction to reach his feet and come charging in. He rushes right at Fox who turns just in time to take him down with a double knife edge chop to the sternum. River hits the canvas and rolls across it back to his feet where he’s nailed under the jaw with a European Uppercut.

Angelus collapses to the ring, then twists to his knees. He looks all shaken up by the blow as Fox now gets a running start, building some momentum. That’s when his legs are ripped from beneath his body, sending him to his back while River flips forward into the jackknife cover.

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Arcane kicks out, not caught by Angelus’ sudden offense.

Mayne: Another quick pin avoided by Arcane. These guys are faster than Barry Allen and Clark Kent.

Susie: If these are comic book references, allow me to reiterate that I don’t speak geek.

Angelus surprisingly beats Fox to his feet, grabbing the hair of his stooped forward opponent. In another display of incredible reflexes and ingenuity, Fox slaps the hands away from his hair and leaps into a knee strike right to his opposition’s chin.

The leaping knee strike sends River staggering back into the ropes and ricocheting off of them. He then stumbles into Arcane’s shoulder who snaps back into the Bridging Northern Lights suplex.

Instead of going for the pin though, Fox falls over to his side, dragging Angelus along with him. Both men stand only momentarily before Arcane snaps back into another Northern Lights suplex. This time he flips over backwards, shoulder still wedged firmly to River’s ribs. He stands up and in the process forces Angelus up, going for a three amigos, of the Northern Lights suplex variety.

Katie: Hopefully this will end things mercifully short.

Billy: If there’s a God.

Fox is about to snap back only to have his move countered in a painful fashion. Angelus reaches down just in time, and wedges his arms between his body and Fox’s biceps. He pulls them away from his waist and then hooks them before dropping back into a seated double arm DDT.

Arcane slams across the top of his head, followed by a neck shattering whiplash. The blow leaves Fox kneeling on instinct rather than by choice. If he were still cognitively aware of his positioning he’d surely hit the dirt and avoid the front dropkick that connects right between the eyes.

Fox hits the canvas, again not by his own choice, and Angelus crawls into the cover, both legs hooked for the three.

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River’s hopes of becoming the X-Class Title Number One Contender go up in smoke as Fox’s shoulder extends towards that ethereal realm above. He kicks out and the crowd unleashes a surprising pop.

Billy: That’s it, I’m an atheist.

Katie: You can’t be, if you still worship me.

Billy: Would you like me to offer you some bread and sacrificial whine?

Katie: If it’s anything like the tea you gave me earlier, I think I’ll pass.

Although despondent Angelus is not derailed. He reaches his feet and takes Fox’s hair into his palm. With no wasted motion he drags Arcane up, hooks both arms and prepares for a second double arm DDT. He drops back and connects, slamming Fox’s head into the canvas at great velocity. This time he doesn’t let go or up, he flips back and keeps the arms of his opponent tightly gripped in his hands.

Fox is forced up to his feet at this point and River prepares to deliver a third, equally as devastating double arm DDT.

However, this time it’s Fox who counters, breaking his biceps from his opponent’s arms and then wrapping them around his waist. Arcane snaps back into the third bridging Northern Lights suplex. He maintains the bridge while hoping for the pin.

Billy: New contender about to be crowned.

Katie: Like it matters who wins this match. Even if they do beat that smelly Ronald McDonald imposter for his belt, I could take it from them at will. I just choose not to.

The crowd’s attention isn’t on Katie’s God complex but the action in the ring, which is about to come to a dramatic conclusion.

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River not only kicks out but in the process he hooks Fox around the neck. With a swinging of his hips Angelus forces both himself and his opponent to their feet. Once upright Angelus breaks the front chancery and instead grabs Arcane’s arm. Before Fox even realizes what’s happening River leaps into the air and drags his arm down into both of Angelus’ raised knees.

The modified divorce court arm breaker sends Arcane reeling into a turnbuckle, one he utilizes for support.

Mayne: Something tells me he won’t be using that arm to grope his groupies for the next few weeks.

Arcane turns his back to River, a very poor move. It leaves him susceptible to River and his heightened awareness. Angelus rushes up behind him, takes the back of his pants in hand then throws him through the ropes shoulder first into that exposed steel turnbuckle post.

Billy: Fox and that steel post have gotten very acquainted over the past few weeks. He’s probably closer to it than he is to Michelle Blacker.

Katie: I guess Fox just has a thing for inanimate objects.

Instinctively Fox steps away from the post, his shoulder, his clavicle, his who arm throbbing with pain. He turns right into the waiting arms of Angelus, who takes the arm into his hands, folds it around behind Arcane’s back and then drops into a hammerlock DDT. All the pressure and impact is put on the exposed shoulder of the potential X-Class contender.

Mayne: More work on the arm from the pale sadist. He’s fortunate that Porno Lad did so much damage to it on our last telecast.

Katie: Another lowlife benefiting from the hardwork of the Five Star Society. It just makes me ill.

Fox is on his back and River is maintaining the advantage. Angelus sits his adversary on the canvas and folds the arm over his shoulder across the back of his head. He has a variation of the overhead wrist lock, putting pressure on all the major arm joints. The aggressor kneels behind the victim, in a perfect position to snap the arm if necessary.

For Fox his arm feels as if it is already on the verge of snapping in two yet he refuses the temptation to tap.

Billy: Ooooh isn’t it inevitable already? Just tap out and give Casper the victory.

Katie: I don’t think this guy has ever heard of a tanning bed before.

Arcane is shaken, flabbergasted and fatigued by the breezy pace of this bout, yet begins to fight. The struggle continues as River finds his grasp weakening. His head shakes, realizing that victory, just like his opponent’s arm, is slipping out of his grip.

He tries to apply more pressure on the already mangled arm but it proves futile. Fox reaches his feet and then falls forward, by some small grace it gives him the leverage needed to send River flipping over his back as he tries to hold onto the arm.

Angelus then tucks into a forward roll across the canvas, reaching his feet and turning with eyes as wide as saucers.

Mayne: Arcane escapes. I’m amazed he still has the stamina for this considering what went down before this match.

Katie: Your just upset the cameras weren’t there to film it.

Billy: Kinda.

Steward: Minion, you are a human appetite suppressor.

The window of opportunity is closing quick, Fox urgently reaching his feet and charging at his shaken foe. He rushes right into a dropkick that connects directly on the shoulder, the blow knocking him to the canvas where he is quickly pinned by the aggressive Angelus.

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Fox’s injured shoulder ironically is what saves him, lunging from the canvas just before the full three count could be rendered. The fact that the match persists seems to be cause for a horrendous migraine, one that Angelus isn’t about to continue suffering. Obviously he’s intent on inflicting a splitting head ache on his opponent, clear by the fact that he’s approaching the very weapon that Wright confiscated.

Mayne: Where’s he going?

Katie: I hope it’s some place with a little sun.

River rolls under the ropes and then quickly snatches the Singapore cane off of the mats. Once in his grasp Angelus rolls back into the ring, on the verge of putting it to very good use. Like a batter on deck he takes a few practice swings.

Billy: Good, once he uses that weapon this match, one way or the other is OVER.

Katie: Thank Go….I mean, myself.

Referee Wright isn’t about to tolerate the inclusion of this weapon once again. He’s in River’s face yapping like a bitch in heat but getting nowhere fast. A grin stretches across Angelus’ face, amused by the referee’s attempt to be authoritative.

Once that amusement ends he pitches Wright aside and raises the staff high above his head. Wright isn’t about to have his power called into question, grabbing the cane out of River’s grasp and forcefully removing it himself. River now rushes forward and swings only to realize that there is no more than air gripped in his palms. The forward momentum from the swing sends him staggering right into a small package from Fox.

The official hits the canvas with his palm, possibly bringing this match to a surprising dénouement.

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The hand is coming down for the three but River beats it with a kick-out. Much like his opponent he’s rushing to his feet but doesn’t move fast enough to avoid the boot to his ribcage, doubling him over where he’s placed in a front chancery.

Arcane makes a puckering motion to several of the fine ladies in the audience, his libido never satisfied. His chauvinistic taunt proves his downfall, as Angelus grabs Arcane’s wrist, swings out of the front chancery and arm whips Fox shoulder first into the canvas.

Billy: ANOTHER painful shot at the arm.

Katie: I think Fox is holding it in place with half chewed Spearmint at this point.

Fox may be cradling his arm across his sternum but nothing can protect his shoulder from the leaping knee drop that connects to the back of it.

A grimace comes over Fox’s face, rolling across the canvas at this point and trying to escape his opposition. He finds himself within reach of the ropes, putting them to good use. He ascends to his feet and falls with his spine propped by the cables just as Angelus gets some wind beneath his sails, cruising straight into his opponent.

Fox is quick enough to shoot his legs up into the air and put them directly to River’s sternum. The kick sends him flipping backwards over the top rope and landing on his feet across the apron. Angelus may have been staggered by the kick but he isn’t disorientated for long.

He comes rushing right back in at Arcane who with one arm leaps to the top rope then springs off of it. The crowd is dazzled as Fox flies over River’s head and lands on his feet behind him. Angelus negligently looks up, unaware that he’s still traveling into the cables and bouncing off of them.

Angelus ricochets towards Fox who leaps into the air and catches him under the jaw with a jumping back heel kick. The tooth shattering strike knocks Angelus to the canvas with Fox landing on his knees beside him.

Billy: That kick may be enough to put Fox on top of the pile, a position I’m sure he’s use to, as the number one contender for the X-Class Title.

Instead of going for the pinfall Arcane rises to his feet and points at the nearest turnbuckle. Anyone with half a functional brain realizes he’s about to pull off the very move that ended Evans in his debut match.

Billy: Let’s see if he can do this one handed.

Katie: He uses one hand all the time, I think he’s gotten use to it by now.

Fox sets for the Codename Kitsune, leaping to the middle rope and about to spring to the top. That is before he catches a glimpse of Angelus rising to his feet from the corner of his eye. He transitions in mid move to compensate for his opponent’s position.

River twists in mid-air, turning towards Angelus and sailing right into his boot. The kick causes Arcane to land on his feet albeit hunched forward where his head is taken into the arms of a man bent on his annihilation.

Mayne: Reversal into the Final Credits.

Steward: How do you know what to call these moves?

Mayne: The teleprompter helps.

The last place Fox expected to end up was in the clutches of a game opponent ready to be handed his first taste of defeat. Angelus hoists the injured Arcane into the air for the suplex, DDT combination only to have him slip out of his hands like he were made of fog.

Fox flips over the shoulder and lands on his feet behind Angelus, where he leaps into the air, catches him by the back of the neck and drills him to the canvas. River pops up to his seat, grabbing at his head before ultimately falling to his back. At this point Arcane reaches his feet and charges into the ropes. He leaps to the middle one, then to the top and with one arm flips over backwards into the Full Moon-sault.

The crowd pops as he comes sailing down towards Angelus only to find that he’s faced with someone equally as crafty as himself. River rolls out of the way causing Fox to change up his move and strategy once again, landing on his feet and watching Angelus charge into the very ropes he just sprung from.

Angelus steps up them just as effortlessly as Arcane did, then springs from the top, twists in mid-air and connects with the Falling Angel. The lariat nails Fox under the jaw and takes him down to the canvas, River landing beside him then crawling into the lateral press.

Billy: It’s GOT to be over now. To maintain my sanity PLEASE tell me it’s over.

The hand slaps the canvas to answer Billy’s prayer. Everyone else in the building stands, none of them as eager to see this end as the biased commentary team.

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Arcane kicks out a fraction of a mere second before he could suffer his first loss.

Katie: See what happens, Minion, you jinxed it again. We’re going to be out here all night watching these two.

A hyperventilating Angelus sits up on the canvas, chest heaving with both exhaustion and anger. He has no idea how Fox maintained the potency to get a shoulder up even after taking one of his most powerful maneuvers. The old school Angelus grabs the mainstream Arcane by the arm, hoping to lock on a submission that will finally end this contest.

He scoots around beside Fox, putting his back to Arcane’s ribs and then lifting up on the arm, applying a fujiwara. Victory is now within his hands, Angelus already basking in the glow of the spotlight, in the screams of adulation from a respectful crowd.

Unfortunately his fantasy is shattered as he’s flipped over onto the back of his shoulders, Arcane countering into a highly unexpected crucifix pin.

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3

The entire arena, River in particular, finds themselves in shock, several audible gasps being overheard. Angelus kicks out just a second too late, falling to his knees and then looking at the referee for confirmation. The official flashes three fingers in his face and motions for the bell to an eruption, somewhat positive, somewhat negative from the crowd.

Billy: Hey, what, where, huh, how!?!

Katie: It’s over? How did that happen?

Billy: Fox must have caught River completely off guard with that crucifix.

Katie: I actually didn’t want an explanation.

Billy: Oh.

The raspy screams from the crowd are like a symphony to Fox’s ears. The victor rolls from the ring before the shock can subside and Angelus can respond to his loss in a far more physical fashion. He clears the squared circle and drops to the outside mats where he immediately weaves his hands through the air as if he were a conductor and the fans were his orchestra.

Mayne: Love him, hate him, sue him or screw him, Fox is the NEW Number One Contender for the X-Class Title. He’s taken the IWC by storm, and picked up wins left and right like a scavenger, victorious by whatever means necessary.

Katie: I can respect that. I can also respect the fact that he has rock solid abs.

Arcane continues to be maestro to the fans beautiful rendition of hatred mixed with salutes. All Angelus can do is sit on his knees wondering where he went wrong, what hole appeared in his strategy that allowed for his loss here tonight. Perhaps Arcane can help him plug such holes, and fill in the cracks with some mortar. Daniel Ackart, who has already had quite the busy night catches up with the victor on the ramp, flailing a microphone around eagerly.

Ackart: My hat is off to you here tonight, sir. What a foxy victory for you here at Extinction, Mr. Arcane.

Fox turns towards the ring and pauses to acknowledge the microphone held to his lips. If there’s one thing that Arcane can’t pass up, it’s more screen time.

Daniel: We saw you suffer a pretty heinous attack on the arm, tell me, how did you overcome that to win this match?

The microphone is raised to Fox’s lips and an enlightened explanation follows.

Arcane: Simple, I’m awesome, Angelus wasn’t. End of story.

Ackart: Fair enough. Care to tell us what opening Angelus gave you in order for you pick up the victory?

A response is given in between deep breathes.

Fox: He got confident, he got smug, and those are two things I hate in an opponent. Once you start thinking your crap smells like a Cinnamon fresh bakery roll I take the advantage and I take the win. You never, NNNNNEEEEEVVVVEEEER drop your guard to a man with talent on loan from the Gods. A man BLESSED with looks only on par with his skill. Angelus learned a very valuable lesson, the same one I taught to Evans, and to Porno Lad, I brag just as easily as I beat. I really am THAT incredible. When I say that I’m GREATNESS, that’s not false advertisement.

Angelus cannot tolerate anymore of Arcane’s loud mouthed bragging. He turns his back to the victor and kicks the bottom rope, in disbelief that he lost this match to a man of such unbelievable pomp and arrogance.

Ackart: So let me put the question out there. I’m sure everyone wants to know WHEN, when are you going to challenge for the X-Class Title now that you’ve put Riggs on notice.

The thought amuses Fox, quite liking the idea that his fate is in his hands.

Arcane: There’s certainly a plethora of options for the Jack of All Trades. I could issue a challenge tonight….

The crowd cheers.

Fox: Which would make me a total moron of Billy Mayne proportions.

The crowd boos.

Arcane: No, no, I think I’ll sit on this one for a while. Like a whore straddling my pelvis I think I’ll ride this out before experiencing pure euphoria….

Just as the last pompous syllable is excreted from Fox’s endlessly flapping lips he’s cut off rather unexpectedly by a good old fashion shove. Fox is almost knocked from the ramp, as is Ackart, both men pushed aside to clear a path for Riggs. A disgusted Arcane watches as the Painted Warrior rushes right past him, the champion not even turning to acknowledge the new number one contender. Riggs’ focus is entirely on the ring where Angelus is standing, back turned to the ramp.

Mayne: It’s the scariest clown since Tim Curry himself, the disgruntled mime, Riggs.

Steward: Oh yay, as if we needed even more reasons to be totally depressed.

Arcane may be insulted but he does absolutely nothing about it, save for scowling at Riggs’ backside. He and Ackart watch as Riggs slides into the ring behind a distracted River and takes advantage of the fatigued grappler by bludgeoning him to the back of his skull.

Angelus hits the canvas and Riggs immediately puts the boots to him.

Katie: Is there even a reason for this? Or does Riggs just enjoy attacking random people?

Billy: I think this attack was brought on by River’s return last week, where he threatened Psycho and Riggs, followed by his closed door meeting with Cagero.

Steward: Again, I don’t actually desire explanations. I’ll just come up with them in my head.

Ackart urges Fox to do something before the number one contender chuckles and proceeds up the ramp. Riggs continues putting the boots to the prone River, who was caught completely off guard by this underhanded, sneak attack. Now the first shot of the night has been fired, it comes time for retaliation from the Motherfuckers of the United States of America. Without much delay the World Champion rushes from the backstage area, barreling down the slim isle between the barricade the side of the ramp.

Billy: And here comes the obligatory save from Cagero.

Steward: He still has a job? Why?

Mayne: Do you actually want a response?

Katie: No, I just came up with one, and it’s hilarious.

Mayne: Care to share?

Katie: Your not worthy.

Riggs is so preoccupied with delivering stomps to Angelus that he doesn’t even notice that the calvary has been called in. Referee Wright is the first man who attempts to pull Riggs off of the beaten and bruised Angelus only to find his body cast to the canvas. Riggs pie faces him and throws the referee down like he were nothing more than garbage.

The beating doesn’t stop until Riggs steps away from Angelus and slips through the ropes to the outside. He drops to the mats, lifts the tarp hung from the apron and begins to drag out a table.

Mayne: God, is this guy such a table-holic that he can’t wait till later tonight to start using them?

Steward: Oh, so he’s turned on by tables. I pictured him as more into necrophilia.

The crowd goes anxious at the sight of the table being put into play only for their fears to be alleviated the moment Cagero makes it into the ring. As Simon hops to his feet Riggs spots him from the outside of the ring, dropping the table and back peddling. Cagero’s raised fists and fiery eyes are enough to fend off the Painted Warrior, who produces a very chilling smile.

Billy: Awww, you can still put him through the table, Riggs, don’t listen to me.

Katie: Nobody does.

The grin continues to splice Riggs’ face in half, directing his smirk in the World Champion’s direction. Simon watches him with a penetrating gaze that would disintegrate a normal man’s confidence. In this case however, it just seems to feed Riggs’ arrogance. He moves around the ring and reaches the ramp, beginning to back up, not taking his eyes off of the disgruntled Cagero.

Mayne: Well this is one question answered. We were wondering if Cagero was even going to be here tonight, but he is, and it’s obvious that Riggs is still in his head. Which I’m guessing is bad for the champion.

Katie: Even stepping out of his house is bad for Cagero.

Simon’s focus is now divided between the challenger for his title later tonight and the seated Angelus. River rests on his posterior, arms draped over his knees and head shaking after falling victim to Riggs’ wrath. It’s not until a hand is extended towards him that Angelus finally acknowledges the presence of the Champ.

Billy: Now what the hell is going on?

For what seems like an eternity Angelus glares between the outstretched palm and the expression on Simon’s face, judging his noble gesture. Nobility and Cagero are not copasetic but nevertheless Angelus takes his palm and allows himself to be assisted to his feet.

Billy: What’s the deal between these two? Is Angelus aligned with the Mofos?

Katie: It looks like he’s found a home on the Island of Misfit Toys.

The palms of River Angelus and Simon Cagero remain interlocked, a cause for great speculation amongst the sold out masses.

“Z” MARKS THE SPOT

Shoulder to shoulder stands two pudgy yet burly security guards. They remain fixed in their positions, arms crossed over their sternums and faces frozen with the same emotionless expression. They don’t back down even as Christian and Rose Savior get up in their grills.

Christian: You do know who I am right?

The security guards glance in one another’s directions before shrugging. Savior is insulted by their ignorance.

Rose: THIS is Christian Savior. Dan Douglas’ hand picked liaison, the former World Heavyweight Champion, the Rising Phoenix. But most importantly, this is the guy who signs your paychecks.

Security Guard: Not tonight he doesn’t. Listen, we have orders not to allow anyone anywhere near this limo.

The camera pulls out to reveal that the limo containing the Empire’s mystery tag team partner is parked directly behind the thick guards. There response leaves Christian even more insulted than before, his hand sliding down his face.

Christian: Well I supersede any of Orlando’s orders. His law doesn’t extend to me, or any other member of the Five Star Society. So I would suggest that the two of you step aside and let us go about our business.

He and Rose take a step forward only to be blocked by the human wall of blubber and muscle.

Security Guard: Mr. Cruze told us….

Savior: Who cares what he said. Now if the two of you want to continue providing for your families, and don’t want to live the rest of your lives sucking your food through straws, you’ll step out of my way. Like it or not I do have the power to either put you on the unemployment line or in the hospital. Now get to steppin’.

The guards exchange a quick glance and then sigh, realizing that their jobs aren’t worth risking in order to protect this mystery man. They step aside and Christian is now unimpeded as he approaches the limo door.

Christian: That’s more like it. It’s about time people actually learned their place around here.

His hand extends towards the door handle, grabbing hold of it as he prepares to peek inside the limo. The mystery is finally at an end or so Christian thought. The lights in the parking garage suddenly go out, blanketing everything in shadows.

Savior: What the hell? What is this shit? Who turned out the lights? I want answers, ANSWERS.

Rose: CHRISTIAN!

Her shrill screams tears through the parking lot but her predicament remains a mystery.

Christian: Rose? ROSE!?!

The frantic voice of Savior heightens the suspense until eventually the lights in the parking lot rise. What he sees peralyzes him with fear, Zero seated on the edge of the limo roof, hands placed on Rose’s shoulders.

Savior: What the fu…..

Zero: Caaaarreeful Savior. You wouldn’t want to make me angry.

His hands slide off of her shoulders and towards her neck. That’s when Christian grabs Rose’s wrist and pulls her out of the clutches of the masked figure, tucking her tightly to his chest.

Christian: You listen here pal, attacking Ingelson is one thing but….

Zero: No, you listen, Christian. Attacking Ingelson was only the beginning. If you don’t want me to speed up my plans then you’ll leave this parking lot now and give Orlando’s hand picked legend his solitude.

The maniacal defender fends off Christian’s advances towards the limo. Surprisingly Savior isn’t about to test the waters, not creating any ripples in the shallow pool.

Savior: This isn’t over.

Zero: Not by a long shot.

Christian: If I didn’t have the Empire to think about tonight your face would be spread across the pavement.

Instead of responding verbally Zero rises from the limo. The moment he stands Christian shoves Rose around behind his back for her own protection.

Rose: Let’s just go Christian, come on, let’s just go.

She tugs on his jacket until Savior agrees. He and his wife back peddle towards the double doors, keeping a watchful eye on the intimidating Zero. Once the Rising Phoenix and his spouse have departed Zero is left alone with the two gluttonous guards who folded in the face of pressure. His head shakes when he hears their heavy breathing behind him. They use the limo as a barrier between themselves and the masked harbinger.

Zero: If I have to come back here again, the two of you will be sorry.

After making a rather ominous statement Zero slaps the tinted limo of the window as if to tell it’s inhabitant that all is well. He then departs, leaving two nervous guards and the mystery surrogate behind.

MASK

A syringe digs into the huge gash opened within Axl’s forehead, and the stitching now proceeds. The wire weaves through the deep wound opened in his temple, slowly pulling it shut. He sits, barely coherent on a cot, face covered in clotted crimson. His eyes are barely open as the medical staff supplies generic compliments and words of wisdom to the new N.H.B Champion.

Doc: You did great out there Axl….

Axl: Yeah, yeah, could of done better though.

Doc: You put on a match of the year in my book.

Evermore: I wouldn’t buy your book even if it was endorsed by Oprah. Just do your damn job and save your compliments for someone who needs them.

Doc: Shall do sir.

The tweezers tug on the string a little harder this time as it slips through the flesh, noticeably aggravating Evermore. His gaze, directed at the smirking doc, is full of raw animosity.

Evans: What a familiar sight.

The last person in the world Evermore wants to talk to conveniently shows up.

Pat: Seeing you sitting on a stretcher, beaten, BROKEN, really takes me back.

Axl: Really? I take it your basking in the memory of the many, MANY injuries I gave you then.

Evans’ grin does not falter.

Pat: Same old Axl Evermore, never lacks a comeback.

Evermore: As much fun as it is to catch up on old times, I feel the necessity to ask, what the fuck do you want?

After the barbaric match that Evermore took part in moments ago, in which years were shaved off both his career and his life, his fuse is understandably short.

Evans: You know me, Axl. I have a tendency to pop up whenever someone is at their lowest low.

Axl: Don’t I know it. But you fail to recognize that I’m the NEW N.H.B Champion. So I’m not exactly at my LOWEST right now.

Pat: Ohhh, I’m sure you still feel like a failure. Your ego can’t tolerate losing even one fall in that match earlier.

Evermore: Alright, you’ve made your point, off with you now.

Pat: And what, pass up the opportunity to rub it in. Come on, Axl, you know me a little bit better than that.

Evermore: I really wish I didn’t. Go ahead, get on with it. Just be thankful that the medical staff is here, your gonna need them.

Pat: So unfriendly Evermore, and here I am showing you nothing but respect.

Axl: You call berating me being respectful? Well then, seems we have the same concept of respect.

Evans: We sure do. Besides how else are you going to be inspired to change, to face your TRUE failure? Sure, you may have won the N.H.B Title, but that pales in comparison to your REAL pitfall.

Evermore: So what? You’re some type of demented motivational speaker now? Are you going to start ranting about living in a van down by the river? Are you going to grow hands the size of small children and call yourself Tony Robbins? I really think this gimmick is out of your depth.

Pat: Actually Evermore, I’m not really here to motivate or to inspire, I’ve choose to address you because I want to help you in another way.

Axl doesn’t like where this is going.

Axl: Uhhhh….

He lifts the N.H.B Title from the cot next to him and begins to tap it with his finger.

Evermore: Does it really look like I need your help?

Evans: I want to open your mind to the truth.

Axl: Is this going to take long?

Pat: I’ll make it brief.

Evermore: Thank God for small miracles.

Evans: It’s about time you faced the facts Axl….

Axl: Fill me in, if you’d be so kind.

Pat: You need to realize what you are, an albatross. You’re an albatross around the neck of a man who actually has potential. I’m talking abut your new bosom buddy, Jon Rich.

If Evermore’s nerves weren’t jangled before, now their as tense as a wolverine backed into a corner.

Evans: Do you see this, Axl?

The mask belonging to the enigmatic Zero is removed from Pat’s pocket. It dangles a mere few inches from Evermore’s face, which is also adorned with a mask, one created entirely from blood.

Pat: This mask represents everything your doing wrong with Rich. Clearly your not giving the man the proper guidance he needs, otherwise you would have kept him from running off to meet with Zero.

Evermore: Hmmm, maybe my memory is a bit hazy, but I don’t seem to remember hitting him with a chain.

Evans: Really? Who’s worse? The man who teaches hard lessons, or the one who keeps his mouth shut and sets his pupil up to fail? You should have known better Evermore. You shouldn’t have allowed Rich to indulge his disgusting habit of being honorable and practicing nobility. You should have intervened and lectured him about the virtues of being a cold, uncaring, unsympathetic bastard. If you had just opened your mouth to tell the truth, instead of spouting off a bunch of pop culture references, then the whole fiasco could have been avoided.

Axl is dumbfounded by such logic.

Axl: Uhhhh, you….are…..the…..guy….who…..attacked…..Jon.

He speaks slower in the hopes that it will explain his point clearer to Evans.

Pat: Which never would have happened if you had simply spoken up. Don’t you see Axl, your only hindering Rich, your not helping him.

Evermore: Like I’m supposed to believe you suddenly care what happens to Rich?

Pat: Oh, but I do. I’ve always cared. Any man talented enough to pin my shoulders to the canvas DESERVES my respect.

Evermore: Yet, and allow me to repeat myself for the hundredth time, you HIT HIM with a CHAIN.

Evans: Only to teach him, Axl, only to teach him. Since you’re so inadequate at showing Rich what it takes to be successful here in the IWC, I felt I had to step in and offer my expertise. I showed him what you never could, that all this sportsmanship brouhaha will take him NOWHERE. That’ll it leave him lying crippled on the floor with NOTHING to show for his career. Sure it may look like I was out to HURT Rich, but I was actually giving him the most important lesson of his life.

Axl rolls his eyes.

Evermore: Yeah, okay, whatever. Do you mind getting lost now?

Pat: Sure, I’ll leave Evermore. I’ll respect the fact that you need some space. Some room to breathe and to think things over.

The mask is stuffed back in his pocket and Evans prepares to leave before adding one final comment.

Evans: I just hope you take a moment to watch what happens in the ring tonight, because I plan to give Rich ANOTHER lesson. And let’s just say that this lesson could be a little more painful than the last one.

With a smug grin on his face Evans begins to leave, his entrance music playing in the background, only to be unnerved by a closing statement from Axl.

Axl: Yeah, good luck.

He freezes, the words all too familiar to his ears.

Evermore: Your going to need it out there.

Evans sneers and continues on his way, now stepping through the curtains which serve as the entry way.

KATELYN PARKWOOD VS. JON RICH VS. ZERO VS. PAT EVANS

“ Outsider” hits the PA system and results in a very mixed reaction. Although Pat receives just as much jeers as he does boos the crowd seems quite fickle when it comes to gauging their reaction to the technical tyrant. On one hand they support his campaign against Christian Savior, on the other they find themselves perplexed by his attacks on Jon Rich. In spite of the mixed emotions Evans makes his way down the ramp that splices the crowd straight down the middle. With the Zero mask hanging noticeably from his pocket he hops to the apron and slips through the ropes.

Billy: Here is a guy who has even less friends than me, Goddess….

Katie: Which surprises your Goddess, given how much of a social leaper you are.

Mayne: Oh come on now, I at least have one or two friends, of the “intimate” variety.

Katie: Your palms don’t count, minion.

Billy: I’ll tell you what else won’t count, Evans’ efforts in this match. They’ve go up in smoke, just like his career has ever since he turned against Christian.

Once inside of the ring Pat positions himself in a corner, back propped to the turnbuckle post, arms dangling over the ropes with that Zero mask still swaying from his palm.

Mayne: Yeah, yeah, Evans, we noticed that you’ve got Zero’s mask still, you should have done us all a favor and wore it out here.

Katie: It would have saved me from the vision impairment I’ve suffered in seeing his greasy face.

Evans slowly steps away from the turnbuckle to the center of the ring, looking fully prepared for whomever steps through the curtains next. In fact he’s anxiously anticipating the arrival of his adversaries and the start of this match given the Ultimate Incentive placed upon it. He remains determined even as the house lights dim

The sound of static is heard and the place goes dark. The titantron has that heavy snow as white noise comes through the speakers. Through the static, a red Z is painted on the screen. As the fans go nuts 'Symphony of Destruction' starts playing and the titantron shows images of the masked Zero posing, bowing, but not actually fighting in the ring. We even see him take his mask off but we only see his eye fully and clearly, inside shines the visual representation of the Eye of Zero. The lights suddenly flash on as we hear, over the mic, someone yell 'NOW!'

Mayne: Now where the hell is this guy gonna show up? Under the skirt of the Goddess?

Katie: Plenty of mortals have attempted it but no one has gotten under this thousand dollar skirt as of yet.

Billy: If only people would learn from your example and buy clothing that actually has value, that has some class and dignity, like me.

Steward: Please, it looks like you bought that shirt at the Salvation Army.

Mayne: Close. I found it in the dumpster BEHIND the Salvation Army.

The lights in the building remain dimmed for several moments until finally revealing the whereabouts of the enigmatic masked mystery. The lights raise just in time to spot Zero positioned behind Evans, knees bent, back crouched, steel chair jutting out of his palms.

Billy: Whoa, whoa, whoa, look, look, look.

Katie: I have eyes.

Mayne: And creamy skin.

The drastic alteration in the crowd’s tune leaves Evans a bit perplexed. His eyes dart back and forth, trying to figure out who their directing their chants to. Although he’ll regret his decision he finally turns around only to be walloped straight between the eyes with the steel. The chair melds around his skull as his body goes tumbling to the canvas.

Billy: Zero just NAILED him right between the eyes.

Steward: Plenty of men have tried to do that to me too.

Mayne: He’s getting some retribution on Evans for that betrayal on the last edition of Riot! where Evans DDTed him and stole his mask. I suddenly like Zero, although I’m sure I’ll go back to hating him in a matter of moments.

Evans looks about as conscious as a stone, his whole body paralyzed by the sheer bone crunching force of the thunderous shot. Zero stands over him, glaring down at the wounded Evans and shaking his head. The chair it tossed aside and Zero stoops down to take what he came here after, the spare mask from between Pat’s fingers. He slips the mask into his pocket in a slow methodical fashion.

Mayne: Those mask must not be cheap.

Katie: You couldn’t tell by looking at them.

Billy: I guess this is some kind of symbolism, Zero refusing to allow Evans to go around totting the mask that represents his movement.

With Evans completely rendered unconscious by the chair shot Zero takes all the time he needs to return the mask to its rightful owner, himself. His focus on taking back stolen property proves detrimental however, Zero tuning out the entrance music of one Katelyn Parkwood. As Hollywood Whore rips through the speakers Zero doesn’t even turn back to acknowledge Katelyn bolting down the ramp behind him.

Billy: The ref should just go ahead and raise her hand now. Katelyn is the guaranteed winner hands down.

Katie: You just say that because she allowed you to crawl between her legs.

Mayne: She should have let me move in, lord knows there was plenty of room.

Katelyn tentatively tiptoes towards the ring, not wanting to alert the distracted Zero to her presence. She now slips in behind him and ever so slowly reaches her feet, aided by the ropes off to her side. Much like the masked man, Katie tries to get an advantage of her own, so she rushes forward and delivers a low blow directly between his uprights. However, Zero snaps out of his daze just in time to catch the boot mere inches removed from his sack.

Steward: Stop fondling her ankle you pervert.

Katelyn hops on one foot as Zero turns to eye her. Although she can’t see his face she can imagine that his expression is one of rage, causing her to offer an endless string of half hearted apologies. Zero isn’t about to be baited on her hook. He pushes down the leg and then steps forward for a lariat to her throat. Parkwood ducks it and takes off across the ring, slipping to the outside mats as quickly as her tender frame will allow.

Mayne: RUN, run Katelyn, get away from that molester.

Zero’s attention has shifted entirely to the woman of low moral standards, looking to make an example out of her the same way he did to Alex Ingelson and Evans seconds ago. He rolls under the ropes and gives pursuit, trailing Katelyn around the ring as she scrambles in circles.

Billy: Thankfully Katelyn took years of track just for this possibility.

Katie: Ummm, it doesn’t necessarily count as taking track if your just screwing under the bleachers on the field.

Billy: Still builds stamina.

Katie: Then she should have plenty of it.

Katelyn looks as white as the ghost of Michael Jackson, periodically glancing over her shoulder to keep an eye on her opponent’s distance. Zero is still nipping at her heels meaning that she’ll have to take another approach. Like a swimmer diving into a pool of water Katelyn leaps into the tarp hanging from the apron, escaping her adversary under the ring.

Although Zero has some fast hands they aren’t quick enough to catch Katelyn, not even her feet which kicks his fingers away.

You can't
deny-e-y-e-y
I'm unbreakable!
Unstoppable!
I'm invincible!
Come on bring it to me
Cuz I'm always gonna be
Unbreakable!

As Jon Bovi continues to belt out another hit Mr. Rich makes his way to the stage. Jon pauses and points out over his adoring fans, many of which chanting his name.

Billy: This guy shouldn’t even bother coming out here. What’s the point of Rich even getting involved in this match? I’ll tell you, NONE. His whole goodie two shoes routine is going to get him nowhere fast.

Katie: Some people like jobbers, Minion. I wouldn’t know of course considering I’ve never jobbed in my life, but guys with the talent of Rich should get use to that type of thing.

Mayne: Not even getting conked on the head by Evans was enough to snap Jon Rich out of it, he’s still going around like Mother Teresa. Although he’s nowhere near as hawt.

Jon slaps a few outstretched hands on his way down the ramp, the crowd still showering him with the very praise that keeps him going. Eventually he reaches the end of the ramp coincidently just as Katelyn slips out from under the squared circle. She desperately crawls on her knees until she finds herself looking down into the boots of Rich. That’s when her eyes slowly begin to look up, following his shins up to his knees, then to his thighs and eventually reaching his face. Jon looks down at her with a very disappointed expression on his face but a clear lack of empathy in his eyes.

Billy: Quick Katelyn, you’re in the perfect position, seduce him. You know how to please a man, she pleased me all night long.

Katie: Five minutes does not constitute all night long.

Mayne: Five minutes? Your being a bit generous there, Goddess.

Just as Rich cracks his knuckles and prepares to lay into Katelyn she surprises him, not with a strike but with a hug. She wraps her arms around his waist and sobs uncontrollably, her tear filled eyes pressed to his stomach.

Katelyn: Oh thank God you came out here to help me against that bad, bad man.

Jon officially looks creeped out by this unreciprocated advance, but before he even knows how to respond Zero comes flying through the ropes hitting him with a suicide dive headbunt. Jon collapses to his back with Katelyn still holding him around the waist.

Billy: That oversized trick or treater is everywhere.

Steward: I don’t give out candy at my house on Halloween, I give out 8 by 10 photos of myself.

Billy: And that’s the sweetest treat of them all.

The caught off guard Rich lays across his back, swatting his forehead with his palms and blinking his eyes sporadically. He has no idea what hit him and the person responsible for his disarray is already on his feet looking to deliver some more punishment. Zero steps towards Katelyn who leaps to her feet, standing over Jon and actually prepared to defend him.

Parkwood: Stay away from my man.

She leaps at Zero who ducks forward just in time to catch her knees to his shoulder and send her flipping over into a back drop. Parkwood catches some tremendous height then tumbles spine and kidneys first into the mats, hitting them with a splat.

Mayne: That’s no way to treat such an exotic beauty. The things that woman could do with her mouth would astound even Hugh Hefner.

Katelyn arches her back from the mats, wailing in pain. Thankful Zero’s ADHD has kicked in, now switching to a new target, a traumatized Rich. The Real Deal crawls in the direction of the steel stairs, employing them to reach his feet. He has just stood, propping himself on some unstable legs when Zero steps up behind him, grabs his hair and drags him down face first into the steel.

Billy: Would somebody please put a bell on Zero, he’s all over the place.

Katie: Actually I think he’d look better in a noose.

Jon collapses to his knees and leans against the steps chin first while Zero knees him to his upper back. He then turns away and prepares to get a running start for what should be a brutal knee strike. Just as he turns though he finds himself shocked by the sight of a recovered Katelyn leaping off of the apron and crashing directly into him. Both competitors hit the mats with Parkwood on top, immediately unleashing with some stiff right hands.

Billy: The Lou Thez Press has never looked so pretty.

Punches continue to light up Zero’s face, his brain scrambled and rattled within the confines of his cracking skull.

Katelyn: You never put your hands on my boy again.

She stands up and punctuates her statement with a stomp that almost makes her fall over in the process. She catches herself against the apron, leaning on it for support just as a set of hands reach through the ropes, taking her by the hair. Somehow Evans has regained his faculties and is now yanking young Mrs. Parkwood to the apron as she wails all the while.

The moment she lands on the apron she’s caught under the armpit and hip tossed into the ring. Katelyn flips over and plummets from a tremendous height spine first into the canvas, her kidneys already haven taken a great deal of trauma in the early stages of this contest.

Katie: Hmmm, I guess all these men just can’t help putting their hands all over Katelyn.

Billy: I knew I couldn’t, which is why I have all these red hand prints on my cheeks.

Katelyn rolls across the canvas gripping at her damaged kidneys and trying to create some space between herself and Evans. Thankfully Pat has turned his focus to the outside of the ring where Zero is in the process of utilizing the apron to reach his feet.

Now Evans reaches out, takes the masked figure by the jaw and the ear and begins yanking him up to the apron as well. However, Zero isn’t as easily manhandled by Katelyn, he counters in a big way. He grabs Pat around the back of the neck and drops from the apron, yanking him down throat first into the middle rope. As a result Evans’ head snaps back as does the rest of his body, finding himself staggering towards the center of the ring.

Katelyn takes advantage, swooping in behind him, hooking his thigh and pulling Pat down into a school boy. Official Princeton, who was just standing back awestruck by the chaos finally gets his ass in gear. He drops to the canvas and slaps it to screams from the crowd.

1

2

Pat’s shoulder lunges from the canvas just in time to prevent defeat.

Mayne: Ahhh, Katelyn was screwed.

Katie: I’ve heard that said a lot.

Billy: Baaazing.

On the outside of the ring the action proves just as frantically paced. Jon is back on his feet, leaning on the stairs for support, completely unaware that Zero is crouched mere inches away. He anxiously waits for Rich to reach his feet and once Jon does get his legs under him he springs into action. Zero rushes forward into a spear that Jon actually leap frogs. As a result Zero travels head first, at a great speed no doubt, into the stairs.

The fans cringe as they hear the sickening impact of his skull against steel and watch as his body collapses to the mats in a heap.

Katie: I guess Zero mistook that inanimate object for Jon Rich. Honest mistake.

With Zero laid out Jon now has the opportunity to not only follow but participate in the action inside of the squared circle. He slides in just as Katelyn is putting the boots to the back of Pat’s head. Evans has little defense, brain still reeling from his encounter with the steel chair.

The boots only stop when Katelyn spots Jon sluggishly entering the ring, provoking her to do what nobody expected. She approaches the steel chair left negligently in the corner, scooping it up and then eagerly offering it to the Real Deal.

Mayne: What are you doing? Don’t give him that chair, Jon doesn’t even know how to work one of those things.

Rich stares at first into the steel then up into the smiling face of Katelyn, who somehow has deceived herself into believing that he’s her boyfriend. Jon makes it clear that he wants NO PART of her plan, swatting the chair out of her hands and knocking it to the canvas. He then takes a threatening step towards Katelyn who squeals and high tails it. She leaps out of the ring with the referee keeping a keen eye on her. He extends his head through the ropes, yelling down at Mrs. Parkwood, ordering her to get back into the ring.

He gets no compliance from Katelyn while behind his back Jon is hopping in place, perhaps setting up to dive over him. That idea never sees the light of day, because Rich is quickly spun around, kicked to the gut and driven head first into the very chair he refused to use. The evenflow DDT connects and Jon flips over to his back, looking as if he’s on dream street. Evans sits up beside him and looks to turn his dreams into nightmares, hooking his leg for the three count.

Billy: Oh fiddlesticks. It looks like Evans is going to win this. I can just imagine the many anticlimactic matches he has to choose from should he take the victory here tonight. Remember everyone, the winner of this match gets to name any bout, for any title and any time all throughout the 2010 calendar year.

Katie: And I’m not in this match, whhhhyyy?

Mayne: I think half the roster would have to be fired in order to pay your HUGE wages.

Steward: Okay, it still be totally worth it. The fans would get to see me not once, but TWICE!

The chair is finally thrown out of the ring once the official turns around. He also spots the pinfall quickly after dispatching with the steel, prompting him to slip into position and make the count.

1

2

Rich kicks out a mere fraction of a second before he could taste the bitterness of defeat.

A frustrated Pat palms the knot forming on his head and mumbles some obscenities in the process of reaching his feet. He stands just as Zero hops to the apron in front of him, having overcome his introduction to the steel steps. Evans hustles towards him, looking to vanquish his foe with a shoulder to the ribs. Unfortunately for Pat, Zero is far quicker than he had anticipated, the masked wonder flipping over the top rope and over the back of the technical tyrant.

He catches Pat around his waist and pulls him over into the sunset flip.

1

Evans rolls backwards out of the pin and to his feet as Zero mirrors his movements. Both men stand up simultaneously before Zero bolts at Evans and goes for the outer leg sweep into the STO. Pat somehow steps aside and not only escapes the very STO that has finished off just about every opponent thrown in Zero’s way but actually counters it.

He swings around behind his masked opponent, catches him about the waist and drops back into a roll up. Zero ends up compressed on top of his shoulders with Pat seated on the back of his thighs.

1

2

The mysterious star kicks out and in the process sends Evans flying forward off of his legs.

Billy: Evans close to a pinfall yet again, but Zero hasn’t been worn out enough just yet to pick up the win. I’m sure the three fans around the world who support Pat are devastated right now.

Katie: Is that why you have a tear in your eye?

Billy: Nooooo, it’s because every time I think of Evans, I picture taking him out back to blow his brains out with a shotgun, which gets me thinking about Ole’ Yeller.

Once again both men are scrambling to get the advantage. Evans twists around as Zero nips up to his feet and lands right in front of him. Before either combatant can get a hold of their rival a third party intervenes. Rich rushes in, leaps up high, catches Zero around the neck and bulldogs him face first into the canvas in the process of nailing a lariat to Pat’s throat.

Two birds are killed with one stone, both opponents being driven to the ring with Jon landing comfortably on his seat.

Mayne: Where did he come from? I thought Pat took care of him already.

Katie: Nope, you can’t count on Evans, or Zero to do anything correctly. The two of them working together probably couldn’t even program a VCR.

Jon’s head may be hurting but he quickly attempts to press his advantage. He reaches his feet and grabs Pat by the hair, dragging him by his bangs towards a turnbuckle. With no regard for his opponent’s well being he throws Evans into the corner where he lands on his seat, looking through glossy eyes at a distorted reality. The drool seeping from his mouth lets Rich know that he’s been incapacitated.

He therefore turns his attention back to Zero who has reached his feet albeit stooped forward, hands pressed to his knees. Jon moves in quickly, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him into his shoulders. Just like in the four corner survival tag Jon has Zero loaded up in a fireman’s carry and it proves just as disastrous.

Zero slips free at the last second and lands on his feet behind Rich, who spins around just in time to be drilled under the jaw with a thrust kick. The strike knocks Jon to his back like a sack of potatoes, returning once again to his wonderful dream-world.

Billy: Ouchie, that was a hard kick to a very hard head.

The extremely effective strike has Jon laid out in perfect position for Zero’s next maneuver. Although he’s shown more of a passion for submission based wrestling since his debut, Zero is once again indulging his aerial skills in this match. He rushes at Evans seated in the corner and nails him to the face with a running knee strike then begins to climb over him to the top of the very turnbuckle he’s propped against.

Katie: Erm, he’s going up top for no inexplicable reason other than the fact that it’ll make him look taller.

Mayne: That’s what stilts and phonebooks were made for.

The crowd watches anxiously as Zero reaches the top rope, back aimed in the direction of the still laid out Rich. He prepares for what promises to be a spectacular dive only to have his ankle yanked right out from under him. Katelyn, who picks her spots wisely, intervenes, grabbing his leg from the apron and pulling it until he tumbles.

Zero lands on his seat and then falls back, hanging in a suspended state right in front of Evans. He remains in the tree of woe and Pat remains pinned behind him as Jon begins to reach his feet in the center of the ring.

He rubs his jaw, reaches his feet and then glances towards Katelyn who has dropped from the apron for the sake of her own protection. Jon’s attention then turns to the precarious state of his opponents and his next course of action becomes clear. He gets a big running start before leaping into and suspending himself in mid-air for what seems like an eternity before finally delivering the hesitation dropkick.

His boots nail Zero’s face, but the punishment doesn’t end there. The force of the kick to Zero’s head sends it snapping back into Pat’s skull as well. The forced head-bunt leaves both men unable to block what comes next. It seems that Rich has gotten his second wind as he steps in, wedges his shoulders to Zero’s stomach and pulls him out of the tree of woe into the fireman’s carry. He now rushes to the center of the ring and swings Zero around into a TKO face crusher right on top of his raised knee.

Billy: That looked painful.

Katie: Almost as painful as sitting out here next to you for the past two weeks. Thankfully I’ve brought an endless supply of barf bags, learned that lesson after our first commentating gig together.

Mayne: Yeah, I’m sure you have a lot of them, given the fact that you practice the ole’ two finger diet.

Shortly after face meets knee, Zero is back on his feet, looking like an alcoholic on an all night bender. He bobs and weaves uncontrollably across the canvas before Jon lunges into the air, drops leg first across his throat and brings him down to the canvas with a leg lariat. Both men crash into the ring with Jon coming down on top, his leg still draped over Zero’s throat. He urges the ref to count and the official hops to it.

He hits the canvas with his palm in an expedient fashion that has every fan on pins and needles.

1

2

Evans dives out of the corner and bumps Rich off of their opponent, saving his opportunity at the Ultimate Incentive.

Billy: Why isn’t Katelyn in there winning this match already? Doesn’t she realize she’ll save us all from the stinkfest that would be a Jon Rich, Zero or Pat Evans victory? What matches would those idiots choose in the span of a year?

Katie: They would probably waste it challenging the Brady Bunch to a potato sack race in the backyard.

After being bumped off of his opponent Rich goes rolling across the canvas straight to his feet. He stands just as the individual who stole a victory from him has. Evans and Rich stand mono to mono with the thought of the ultimate incentive and the events of the last Riot! at the forefront of their minds.

Evans charges in and attempts to avenge the loss to Rich two weeks ago. Jon ducks however, hooks the arm and then catches him around the neck, looking for some retribution after that ghastly assault backstage. He spins Evans around right into a swinging neck-breaker. Wait, Pat swings out of it, stands up behind Jon and catches him around the arm, hoisting him into the air for the Spinal Tap.

Rich squirms like a worm on the edge of a hook but this worm isn’t about to be impaled. He twists his body in mid-air so that he falls side first to the canvas, countering the Spinal Tap into an arm drag. Evans goes flipping forward, hitting the ring forcefully and then wincing from the trauma inflicted on his back. Somehow he ends up in the ropes, desperately grabbing at them to reach his feet. The moment his feet are solidly rooted to the canvas Rich builds momentum, charging in for a decapitation lariat.

Evans was ready for it, grabbing Jon by the leg and flap-jacking him ribs first into the top rope. Jon bounces off, grabbing at his mid-section then twisting as he collapses to the apron.

Billy: I sincerely hope that wasn’t part of Rich’s plan. We have far too many sadomasochists around here as it is.

Katie: Like me for instance, who willingly puts herself in this announcer’s chair every week.

After taking the brunt force impact of the ropes, Jon reaches his feet, hands clasping at the cables like Evans moments ago. Upon reaching his feet he turns his back on the very ropes that aided him, and as thus makes another costly mistake. His arms are hooked from behind, his body is heaved over the ropes and eventually sent flying across the ring with Pat’s variation of the crucifix powerbomb.

Billy: Good…..God, that was sweet.

From the Outside In connects as Rich hits the canvas with a devastating thud and a kneeling Evans crawls forward into the cover. He lifts the legs of Rich into the air, draping them over his shoulders then leaning forward into the back of them.

Steward: Don’t look directly at the pinfall, minion, otherwise you’ll be turned to sand.

The referee strikes the canvas and the spellbound crowd once again counts along.

1

2

The crowd pops at the sight of Evans getting the win before a set of nails breaks up the victory celebration. Just before the ref’s hand could strike the canvas a third time Katelyn steps over Pat’s back, digs her nails into his eyes and rips until the corneas are almost torn.

Billy: It’s about darn time she got involved in this. I was starting to think that this Ultimate Incentive match was going entirely to waste.

Pat stands up, finding Katelyn wrapped around his body, nails still slicing at his pupils. He twists and turns, trying to free his eyes from the wrath of Parkwood’s abnormally razor sharp nails. Even the demands of the official are not enough to entice Katelyn to stop, she just keeps targeting the eyes until she’s sure her opponent has been blinded.

Mayne: Keep after those eyes, Katelyn, thatta girl.

Katie: I taught her this move. Only took six hours for her to get the hang of it.

Finally Evans has had enough, reaching up, grabbing Katelyn by the back of the head and dragging her down onto his shoulder. He slides her forward and traps her in a very precious state, Katelyn screaming louder than when she orgasms.

Billy: Ahhhh, I’ve heard that scream before.

Moore: Yes, from the porn you rent on your Grandmother’s computer.

Billy: What? She doesn’t care.

Evans barrels forward with Katelyn still propped on his shoulder and then drops her face first into the top turnbuckle with a good ole’ fashion snake eyes. Skull thuds against turnbuckle and her body goes staggering back into the waiting arms of a nearly blinded Evans. He still has the necessary vision to catch Katelyn, wrapping her stomach in his arms and preparing to drop back into a German suplex.

Much like Rich, Katelyn proves to be a handful, twisting back and forth in an attempt to free herself. Her endless struggling ends the moment that Zero reaches his feet with the aid of the very turnbuckle she cruelly encountered mere seconds ago. Now it’s Zero’s boot that is introduced to her face, another thrust kick connecting just as Katelyn is taken off of her feet and snapped back into a bridging German suplex.

Mayne: No fair, time out, game over, no resets….

Katie: Just get on with it.

Billy: There’s no way that was legal. Katelyn is not used to being double teamed by two men.

Steward: Ummm, we are talking about Katelyn Parkwood correct?

Evans can feel the vibrations of the canvas as the official’s hand slaps against it and detect the electricity surging through the stands. He knows that this is his chance, that victory is within his finger tips. The hand meets the canvas twice, but doesn’t get there a third time before Evans’ legs are entangled and he’s dragged out from under his opponent.

The bridging pin is broken as Evans is forced to his stomach and the sharpshooter is applied. Zero rears back on the hold that he surely would have defeated the Buehler’s with last week if it hadn’t been for the betrayal of his partner. This fact makes it all the more bittersweet that Pat is now suffering from it tonight, hand already raised above the canvas, ready to spare his career and abandon his pursuit of that Ultimate Incentive.

Billy: Damn you Katelyn for not possessing those Wolverine-esque recuperative abilities.

Katie: Who?

Mayne: Wolverine, he’s a comic book character.

Steward: Ha! Comic books, why read them when I possess strengths ten times greater than any make believe homoerotic heroes.

Pat is coming closer and closer to the brink of defeat, his hand dropping to the canvas then balling into a fist just before he could tap. Zero leans back even further until he hears the dreadful snap, crackle and pop that is a spine severing. His reaction is unknown, hidden beneath his mask, hidden beneath the mysterious aura that surrounds him.

Evans breaks through that cloud of deceit by twisting himself onto a shoulder, reaching out and catching Zero around the leg. Before Zero knows exactly what’s happening, he’s falling forward on his face because Pat got just the right leverage to trap him in the ankle lock.

He stands up behind the masked figure, twisting and wrenching at the leg, but he won’t just be satisfied with hearing it snap. He wants to hear Zero cry out in pain, a grim satisfaction that the enigma will not give his opponent no matter how he’s victimized.

Billy: Reversal into the ankle lock. I swear if one of these guys win I’ll need that barf bag you brought.

Katie: These are Goddess reserved waste bags, Minion. You dare not touch them.

Billy: They look like fifty cent paper bags to me.

Katie: That may be but I added glitter and stickers, that makes them Goddess reserved.

Zero’s claws dig so tightly into the canvas that his fingers nearly puncture through it. Even with the bone shattering force being placed on his ankle Zero refuses to simply submit. Evans is growing a tad bit flustered, feeling the win slipping through his fingers yet again.

Once again the win is denied to Evans thanks to the interference of one of his opponents. Rich staggers in behind him, grabs Pat’s arms, forces them off of Zero’s leg and around his own neck. Pat is dragged to his feet as Jon places him in a cobra clutch and prepares to pull him down into the Get Rich Quick.

Steward: Not a Jon Rich victory, I can’t stand watching this, someone change the channel.

Billy: Yes, there are far more interesting things on, like reruns of Hogan’s Heroes.

Evans gasps for air as he prepares to be hit with the modified reverse neckbreaker. That is until he breaks out Jon’s hold with much the same speed that Rich escaped the Spinal Tap. He finds the strength to free his throat, twist around, drop to the canvas and catch Jon around the ankle. He picks it out from under his body as Jon collapses to the canvas, Evans standing behind him.

The leg is being mutilated within the hands of Evans, who rips and tears like he were opening a Christmas present. Jon wedges his elbows to the canvas and looks towards his only salvation, the ropes. With urgency he begins to crawl towards them, but finds it particularly hard given the sheer distance.

Mayne: Okay, just tap already Jon, if Katelyn isn’t interested in wrestling then I just don’t care about the outcome of this match.

Evans is surprised by the tenacity of his opponent, following him towards the ropes, and watching as Jon prepares to clear the last hurdle. Rich reaches out for the cables, fingers twiddling just centimeters removed from the bottom rope. A smirk now comes to Evans’ face and he steps back, dragging Rich to the center of the ring. He allowed Jon to get close to escaping just so he could shatter him psychologically by putting him right back in the same hopeless predicament.

With that window closed Jon looks for an open door but finds that God has supplied him with none. There is only one choice at this point, submission. His palm opens above the canvas and Evans can already hear him tapping out. Unfortunately that wasn’t the sound of Jon slapping the canvas but the sound of Pat’s own face hitting the ring, as he’s caught off guard with the KBO from Parkwood. She drags him down face first into the ring, his skull thudding against canvas and his body flopping over to his spine.

Billy: Ha-ha, nice, very nice.

Katie: She did pull that cutter off fluidly for a change.

Billy: Cutter? Oh, oh yeah, she did, didn’t she? I was actually talking about how her nipple almost popped out of her shirt upon delivering it.

Evans’ eyes roll around in his head as he lays stretched across his back, in perfect positioning for the pin. Katelyn, weary muscles and all, reaches her feet and instead of going for the pinfall eagerly rushes to the aid of a crouched Rich. She grabs him around the bicep and assists Jon to her feet, whispering into his ear all the while.

Katelyn: I did it, I put him down for you baby. Now pin him quick.

Jon’s ankle is in such searing agony that he is unable to put any pressure on it, and he has no idea, no idea whatsoever that it is Katelyn trying to assist him. She keeps tugging on his arm while he tries to cradle his swollen ankle to his body. All the while, just off to their sides, Zero is crawling across the ring and into the lateral press. Both legs are hooked and Zero goes for the backdoor win.

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2

Evans’ shoulder launches from the canvas just seconds before he could fall victim to the pin. Although he’s gained a new found respect for Pat’s resiliency, he still drags him right along to his feet where a boot meets him to the ribs. Zero then gets another running start, perhaps looking for the running STO. Just before he can connect Pat snaps out and dives forward into a knee strike right to his masked opponent’s ribs.

Zero crouches, grabbing at his wounded mid-section just as Pat steps over his neck, takes him around the waist and pulls him up into what promises to be a huge crucifix powerbomb. He rushes forward to unleash the dreaded maneuver when Zero suddenly latches his legs around Pat’s waist, falls forward and flips him back into the sunset pin yet again. This time though, Zero stands up, holding the creases of Pat’s legs and flips forward into the jackknife cover.

The crowd is screaming, everyone hopping up and down excitedly as the official’s hand slaps the canvas.

Billy: Oh no, oh no, no, noooo!

The referee’s hand meets the ring and the crowd squeals like Ned Beatty left alone with two backwoods rapists.

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2

Rich suddenly wedges his hands to Katelyn’s gut and shoves her back. She collapses right on top of Zero’s bridging ribs and breaks up the pinfall as a result.

A stunned Katelyn rolls across the canvas after being used as a human weapon and then finally rolls under the far ropes. Zero grabs at his mid-section while Evans slowly crawls away from him, gripping at his neck in the process. He crawls until his back is turned on the mask enigma, making it impossible for him to see what he’s doing.

The shroud of secrecy is created so that Pat can reach into his blue jeans pocket and remove a steel chain.

Billy: Oh just wonderful. How much shit can that guy stuff in his pockets?

Katie: I wonder if having that chain in his pocket chaffs his….you know.

Evans stands up with his fist glistening from the steel wrapped about his knuckles.

Mayne: Well at the very least we can take solace in knowing that Evans is about to bash the brains of Zero in with that chain.

Katie: That’s based on the assumption that Zero actually has brains.

Billy: Baaaaziiing.

With his fist made into a very powerful weapon Evans turns to unleash his fury on the masked Zero. He turns right into an unexpected roaring elbow that connects right on point to the top of his head, delivered by a vengeful Rich. The strike takes him to the canvas and sends the chain flying out of his hand. He rolls across the ring and eventually spills under the ropes, landing with a thud across the outside mats.

Steward: Why must that goody little two shoes constantly ruin our good time?

Billy: That’s his goal in life, to suck all the fun out of life.

Evans may be rattled by the blow but he is quickly on his feet, employing the apron as a prop. Once on his feet he locks eyes on Rich who has taken hold of the steel chain, looking down at the weapon strewn across his palm. His eyes then transfer to Evans on the outside who is slapping the apron to get his attention.

Evans: Yes, yes, use it Jon, USE IT!

He makes a punching motion just in case Jon didn’t hear him. The gesture is about as effective as the words, Jon not adhering to either one. Although, he does pause to think about it.

Pat: Use the chain, win the match!

Once again Jon’s eyes return to the steel before allowing it to slip through his fingers. It collapses to the canvas to a loud pop from the crowd, Rich turning his back on Evans and deciding to win this match by merit of his own skill. The moment he turns around however, his leg is swept and he’s planted to the canvas with the Chaos Theory.

Mayne: Ohhhhh no, that stupid STO, by that stupid Zero, with his stupid mask and his stupid everything.

Rich was caught completely off guard by the leg sweep and the hard thud of his head against the canvas. A flabbergasted Evans leaps to the apron only to be knocked off by a big running knee from Zero, sending him back down to the mats. Zero now turns around and throws himself on top of the startled and traumatized Rich, hooking both legs.

Billy: Come on, come on, come on, let there be some kind of act of God or something.

Katie: Sorry, I’m all tapped out.

The ref’s hand strikes the canvas with the crowd once again screaming.

1

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3

The reception is deafening as Zero has just picked up a win and secured the match of his choice all throughout 2010.

Mayne: NO! Zero wins Ultimate Incentive. This is worse than lump of coal in a stocking.

Steward: I never ran into that problem, considering my ability to turn coal into diamonds.

The crowd is eating this up as Zero rises to his feet and falls to the ropes to aid him. He shakes off the many collisions and strikes delivered on his body throughout this contest but still has the strength to lift a single arm in the air. The celebration continues as Evans and Katelyn watch from opposite sides of the ring. Katelyn is almost in tears considering that her boyfriend was defeated while Evans is disgusted that Jon didn’t take the advantage he had given him.

Billy: Zero victorious…again….every time I say that I swear I get a little more ill.

Katie: Your not the only one.

The celebration continues as Zero has just opened up a wide range of options for himself headed into the new year.

NEED TO KNOW BASIS

Two sets of lips are flapping, a conversation taking place even if their words are out of hearing range. The camera zooms in on the faces of Riggs and Psycho, helping only those with the ability to read lips. As the Painted Warrior and the bludgeoned, bloodied Sadistic One continue their discussion in this secluded location it becomes more and more evident that their conversation is one of a highly unscrupulous nature. A grin actually forms on Psycho’s face even though it’s still being bombarded by his crudely bandaged forehead.

Billy: Huh. This isn’t good. Psycho and Riggs chatting it up.

Katie: I doubt their discussing beauty secrets.

Mayne: You never know around these parts.

The classified convo persists, the fans left to wonder what these two diabolical athletes have in store for what promises to be an epic main event.

MONETARY INCENTIVE

Jackson: Ten, twenty, thirty, forty…..

A wad of bills are clasped between the hands of one Jackson Adams. The Spectacular One unfolds the currency slowly, counting it out in order to further entice the two would be guards.

Adams: Fifty, fifty bucks. That’s my final offer.

The cash is waved in front of their faces, Adams getting it close enough to their nostrils so they can almost smell it.

Adams: It’s all yours boys. But first, you’ve got to let me have a little sneak peek into the limo.

The two blubbery behemoths try to remain as professional as possible. They breathe uneasily, trying not to succumb to temptation.

Jackson: Come on gentlemen, you know you can’t pass this up. Opportunities like these don’t come along very often.

Guard: Why do you want to see who’s in the limo so badly anyway?

Jackson is almost offended that they not only address him without being given permission but have the audacity to question him as well.

Adams: My prerogative is MY prerogative, and I’d like to keep it that way. I have plans for tonight and I want to make sure whatever bottom barrel reject that Orlando brought in isn’t going to muck things up. Now take the money, buy your kids some Wii Fitness games, because it sure looks like they need it…..

The self conscious guards jiggle their guts.

Jackson: ….and then turn the other way. That’s all you need to tell Orlando if he finds out about our little arrangement. Just tell him that you were distracted by something. Like maybe Angelina Jolie walked by in a string bikini or something. Hey, it’s probable, although, it be more likely that you would see Bob in a string bikini before Angelina Jolie. Anyway, you get my point.

Guard: Actually, we totally lost you.

Adams: Ugh.

Adams shifts the bills in his hand, grabbing at his nose and rubbing his sinuses.

Jackson: Where the hell did Orlando find you guys? Were you standing behind a Home Depot or something? Habla englais? Speaka da English? It’s simple fellas, I want to see who is inside of the limo, so take the money and then walk away.

The guards continue to debate their options.

Guard: As tempting as that sounds, we’re….

Jackson: No, no, don’t finish that sentence, don’t you dare.

He opens up one of their palms and slaps the money into it.

Adams: Your gonna take this bribe and like it. Believe me, nobody has to find out, Orlando will be none the wiser. He’ll be totally clueless.

Orlando: Yeah, because he’s such a dunst.

Jackson: Exactly. The guy is a total mongoloid. Isn’t it obvious by his slurred speech and his inability to practice safe sex? If I had a nickel for every illegitimate child that Orlando….wait.

It suddenly dawns on Adams in mid rant that the reference to Cruze came from behind him. With his shoulders tensed to his earlobes Jackson begins to turn, finding himself face to face with the well dressed Icon. Orlando stands there with his arms crossed and his head shaking.

Orlando: Really JA, is that what you think of me?

Adams: It depends.

Orlando: On what?

Jackson: How long you’ve been standing there.

Cruze: Long enough apparently. And what’s this….?

The money that he tried to force on the uncooperative guard is grabbed out of Jackson’s hand.

Orlando: You were actually trying to bribe my security?

Orlando mouths the words “tisk, tisk,” while discreetly slipping Jackson’s money into his pants pocket.

Adams: I wasn’t TRYING anything; I was actually succeeding until you came along. But what do you expect?

Cruze: Hmmm?

Jackson: If you would just tell us who is in the limo there would be no need for all this drama.

Orlando: Is that so?

Adams: Yes, frankly this whole mystery is totally throwing my mojo out of whack. How can I be expected to concentrate on this match when you very well could have one of my ex rivals waiting to partner up with me. I need closure and I need it now. Give it!

Cruze takes all this in, actually listening to Jackson’s argument before shaking his head.

Cruze: You haven’t convinced me.

Jackson: Are you out of your friggin gord man? Your about to have a full on protest from the entire Empire if you don’t spill the beans post haste. I’m not going out there and neither are any of my teammates, until we have assurances that we can trust your handpicked surrogate.

Orlando: Really? You speak for everyone in the Empire then?

Adams: Yes, or at least the ones with half a brain, which in retrospect describes absolutely none of them. But even Johnny Kingdom, with his one remaining braincell wouldn’t endorse these mystery partner shenanigans. The man may not be smarter than a fifth grader and as repetitive with his punch lines as Jeff Foxworthy, but even he realizes that no good can come of this. And….

Johnny: Really?

Jackson: Yes, really. It’s bad enough I’m going out there teaming with two thirds of the Blue Man Group, but now I have the black cloud of a mystery partner swirling above my head too!?! It’s absolutely unacceptable, Johnny’s monotone ass wouldn’t stand for this and neither will I….

Kingdom: He wouldn’t?

Adams: No God dammit, he woul….

Again Adams freezes in mid-sentence as it finally dawns on him that it isn’t Orlando asking the questions. He can feel breathe on the back of his neck, bringing Adams to frantically spin around. It’s just as he feared, Johnny Kingdom stands before him with an unsettling smirk on his face.

Jackson: Oh, heeeeey Kingdom. How long you been standing there?

Johnny: For what seems like an eternity.

Adams: So I take it you’ve come to stand by my side, and put an end to all this Scooby Doo mystery bs?

With finger raised to his chin Kingdom contemplates his response.

Kingdom: Not really.

Adams: What? Won’t somebody please work with me here?

Johnny: I honestly don’t care who Orlando has flown in.

Orlando: You don’t do you?

The Icon finds himself intrigued, although he realizes that he’s thrown the hook and is now about to reel in a classic Kingdom insult.

Kingdom: Yeah, if you want to waste your money, more power to you.

Orlando: WASTE my money?

Johnny: Precisely. It’s not like we need a fourth member for this eight man tag match, has everyone forgotten who we’re facing after all? It’s the Five Star Society, allow me to repeat that, and allow ME to emphasize it, THE FIVE STAR SOCIETY! I could beat every one of them entirely on my own. In fact, I already have.

Cruze: I see your point.

Kingdom: If only I could believe that. If you had any insight into my head, A, you never would have booked this match in the first place, and B, you wouldn’t find a way to interject yourself into it and further complicate matters. But I understand, Cruze. You’re feeling a bit impotent. The Five Star Society have run rough shot over you the past few months and you’ve been absolutely POWERLESS to do anything about it. So you’ve got to find a way to get back at them somehow. Even if that includes busting out your little black book and dialing up some old friends.

Orlando: Believe it or not, Johnny. I think I’m helping.

Johnny: Oh, I do believe it. I do believe that you THINK your helping. But the truth is, Boss, we don’t need your type of assistance, least not of all against the Five Star Society.

After making his viewpoint as clear as crystal Kingdom steps past Orlando on his way into the building. Cruze follows the Team Leader with his eyes before they’re drawn back to Adams, who has done a very successful job of digging himself into a deeper and deeper grave with every word uttered.

Jackson: Um, what he said.

Adams quickly takes off, leaving the Icon behind to think.

Cruze: It’s been far too long since I got a good Kingdom skewering. Feels like old times.

The nostalgic Orlando grins before approaching the tightly sealed and well protected limo.

BFG VS. RICK-ROHL

The show returns live to the inside of the Congress Theater after that strange encounter backstage.

Billy: I love it, Jackson’s mouth just keeps digging him in deeper and deeper. And as you can see ladies and gentlemen, I’m now entirely on my own here.

The camera cuts to Billy seated beside an empty chair.

Mayne: My broadcast colleague, Katie Steward is in the process of getting ready for the big eight person stable war, leaving me all by my lonesome. I swear I’ll miss the wonderful fragrance of Katie Steward. Plus, when she wasn’t looking I was snipping the ends off of her hair to add to my personal Goddess hair doll.

The rap lyrics of BFG’s self recorded title hits the PA system and the crowd covers their ears almost immediately. From the backstage area strolls BFG himself, doing a one two step towards the ring. A traditional Boxer slicker hangs from his body, his head covered by a hood. His entourage comes out behind him, holding water bottles and towels.

Billy: We’re ready for the very match that got each and everyone of you to order tonight’s pay-per-view. It’s Dance Off time ladies and gentlemen, BFG and Rick-Rohl about to go at it to decide who truly is the Lord of the Dance.

BFG makes his way up the steps and through the ropes, his posse throwing some autographed shirts into the crowd in order to curry their favor. When the fans open the shirts and see Bea Arthur’s face printed on the surface they lose all appreciation for BFG’s gesture. The big man enters the ring, passing by a boom-box supported on a chair while rhythmically swinging his arms through the air.

Mayne: BFG, bodyguard extraordinaire made the challenge and unlike his opponent he can back up his mouth with his actions.

“NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP”

Rick Astley’s lyrics hit the PA system and Rick-Rohl hits the stage, flanked by some of his colleagues. Max Craven stands at his side, serving as Rick’s hype man, trying to get the crowd out of their seats and to their feet. Rick, much like his opponent, is dressed in a slicker. He and his gang reach the ring where Rick climbs the steps, standing on the top one and then lifts a finger into the air. The moment he gestures to the crowd fireworks explode from the turnbuckles, sending confetti flying through the air. BFG is up in the face of his corner man, demanding to know why HE didn’t have any confetti.

Billy: And his opponent, THE Rick-Rohl. I’ve learned a lot from Rick, mostly how to shake one’s ass in public for spare change. Let’s see if his ass shaking will be enough to pick him up the win here tonight.

The MC for the event, Daniel Ackart trails behind the two combatants, now slipping in under the ropes with a microphone in hand.

Daniel: Alright boys and girls the time is now, let’s get ready to boogey!

The fans force themselves to cheer, somewhat anticipating the hilarity that will ensue.

Daniel: Good, good, thanks for that canned applause, we really appreciate it. Anyway, here’s the rules for people who are just too fucking stupid to understand. Both combatants in this Dance Off will be permitted three minutes to strut their stuff on the dance floor, with the winner being decided by crowd reaction. So don’t sit on your hands with your thumbs up your asses, let these two know what you think. Anyhow, without further ado, let’s get this show underway. BFG, I understand you drew the shorter straw, so you’ll go first. Care to tell us what style of dance you’ll be utilizing?

BFG takes the mic straight out of Daniel’s hand and lifts it to his lips.

BFG: You betcha sucka. I’ll be dancing a style I learned on the streets. See, I didn’t go to no fancy, hawty tawty dancing school like my opponent....

Rick sighs, not even bothering to point out the inaccuracies of his rival’s comments.

BFG: I picked up my mad skills on the street and through watching PBS. So tonight, playas, I’ll be treatin ya all to my favorite style of dance…..expressionist ballet. Give me a beat.

Some neoclassical music plays from the boom-box as BFG removes his slicker to reveal the tight fitting spandex on below. The cod piece of course three sizes too big, creating a giant bulge in the crotch of his ballet tights. Laughter erupts from the crowd as BFG throws his arms out to sides and gently sways then across his chest to the other side. He tries to tip toe and almost breaks his feet in the process. Rick and the fans can only stand watching thanks to their morbid curiosity.

Billy: Uhhh, is he actually doing interpretive dance?

BFG now lifts his leg into the a la hauteur position and attempts a dangerous pirouette only to become horribly unbalanced. He falls into his corner man and knocks him to the ground as a result, but ultimately remains on his own two feet. In anger BFG cries out to the rest of his posse, who spring quickly into action. This time they help lift his leg and then support him from all sides, turning BFG around into a full pirouette.

Mayne: How graceful and majestic. This is almost bringing me to tears.

While the dance causes Billy to tear up, it causes BFG to sweat heavily. The fast tempo of the music certainly doesn’t help, picking up into an allegro at this point. BFG is now forced to move quicker, leaping mere centimeters from the canvas then almost falling over each time he lands on his feet. He attempts a grand jete, one of the more perilous leaps in expressionist ballet but ends up tripping forward and collapsing straight onto his face.

He tries to play it off by rolling to his side and supporting his head on his fist, elbow wedged to the ring. The smile on his face does nothing to hide the fact that he horribly botched much of his performance. He receives a resounding wave of boos as a result, causing BFG to sit up screaming obscenities.

BFG: My dancing is just too sophisticated for you honkies!

Daniel: Okay, okay, thank you BFG, for……whatever the hell that was.

BFG stands and curtsies to the audience even though they’re chastising him so.

Ackart: I guess that means the floor is now yours, Rick. Care to tell us what style of dance you’ll be incorporating here this evening?

The microphone is handed off to Rick, who is in the process of trying to keep his laughter behind clinched teeth.

Rick: Well, as impossible as it will be to follow up what we just saw, I think I’ll still give it a shot. And I suppose I’ll be using a little bit of everything in my dance.

Ackart: Alright, have at it. The sooner your done, the sooner we can all get out of here.

A generic R&B beat hits the PA system and Rick begins strutting his stuff. He starts off with some gyrating, mixed with some sexually suggestive pelvis thrusting that delights the female audience. Rick now goes as far as to do a double pistol gesture towards the fans followed by some break dancing. He actually drops to the canvas into some push ups, followed by a head stand and a nip up. BFG watches with his head shaking and his arms crossed, dismissing the dance entirely.

Mayne: Ummm, is it normal to be getting turned on at the sight of this? I really, really hope it’s normal.

Rick drops back and supports himself with the use of only his hands, pivoting back and forth between them and kicking his legs up into the air as well. The crowd is absolutely amazed by his break dancing ability and let him know as much, starting a “this is awesome” chant. BFG can’t believe what he’s hearing, his temples beginning to pulsate from his contained anger.

Finally after flips, rolls, nip ups and cartwheels Rick-Rohl finishes his dance routine and receives a standing ovation as a result. He steps back, doing a ballet-esque bow to the crowd and then his opponent, rubbing his dancing abilities in the face of BFG. The big man is now grabbing Ackart’s collar and demanding that he disqualify Rick for illegal use of the pelvic thrust. Ackart pulls away and lifts the microphone to his lips to announce a winner.

Ackart: I guess we’ve seen it all ladies and gentlemen. Thank you, Rick-Rohl, for all that inappropriate thrusting. I’m sure I’ll have nightmares about it later. Now let’s get to the decision so I can go home and erase this whole ordeal from my memory with some crystal-meth. Let’s see how you judge the participants ladies and gents.

Daniel is just about to step back and direct attention to BFG, who already is receiving some boos from the sold out crowd. The big man bites his lower lip and cocks back his fist, threatening to punch every fan in attendance if they do not show him the respect he deserves. Before the applause can be tallied and a decision rendered, Daniel is suddenly caught off guard with a note being handed to him by a stagehand at ringside. He takes the note and unfolds it, reading the contents before rolling his eyes.

Billy: What’s on that note? Don’t tell me their going to make me dance. I dance like the whitest white guy on the planet, mostly because I am the whitest white guy.

Daniel balls up the message and throws it back at the stagehand before moving to the center of the ring. Both Rick-Rohl and BFG are demanding to know what was written but Daniel isn’t about to take the time to address them separately.

Daniel: Well before we get down to the judging I understand that there’s been a last second entry into this Dance Off. So without further ado, would everyone please welcome this newest combatant, he is the one, the only, the incomparable, and I’m sure he doesn’t even know what incomparable means. BOB!

A loud roar can be heard throughout the arena, everyone reacting positively to this special treat. From the backstage area emerges the bubbly behemoth himself, Bob. With his chest smeared by grease ham the fat man stumbles to the stage and then waves obnoxiously to the fans. Bits of meat fall from his mouth as he eagerly moves down the ramp, colorful hair, loincloth and all.

Billy: I think I died and just went to heaven. It’s Bob. A man who makes me look handsome by comparison, which is why I enjoy having his Mnoose loving ass around so often.

The arena is teeming with excitement, their nipples perking at the sight of the greasy goliath climbing to the apron and slipping through the ropes. He continues to wave and in the process rub his tummy. Rick-Rohl and BFG are in both of Daniel’s ears, chastising him for this blatant violation of the rules. All Daniel can do is tell them that his hands are bound, that there’s nothing he can do about this. They throw their arms up in the air in protest while Bob steps towards Ackart, wrapping his arms around Daniel’s waist and giving him a big hug.

Daniel: Alright, alright, alright, let go, this suit is authentic Italian silk.

Bob lets go but not before kissing Ackart on the cheek, leaving a huge grease stain on the MC’s face.

Billy: Bob showing how huge his heart is, it’s probably half the size of his stomach. I guess Bob is participating in this challenge because from what I understand he was already in the building tonight helping Simon Cagero film some type of top secret footage. Footage we’ll be seeing here soon.

The crowd continues to express joy at the sight of the double wide Bob who keeps an arm extended over Daniel’s shoulder, making everyone uncomfortable.

Ackart: So Bob, I don’t even know why I’m bothering to ask, but why have you chosen to participate in this Dance Off?

Bob’s thick lips move towards the microphone, threatening to swallow it along with Daniel’s hand.

Bob: Bob want Mnooses for his bum-bum. Bob win dance off, Bob get Mnooses.

Daniel: I don’t know how accurate that is….

Bob: Bob want Mnooses for his BUM-BUM!

Ackart: Fine, fine, you’ll get all the Mnooses you want.

Bob: Bob put Mnooses in the parsley patch.

Daniel: Good, fine, excellent. Now what’s your music and dance of choice?

Bob gets super excited, as if the MC finally asked the right question. His hand goes digging into his loincloth much to the outrage of the female onlookers.

Ackart: No, no Bob, the censors, the censors! Why is it so hard to convince everyone to keep it in their pants tonight.

Everyone cringes, even the other competitors as Bob whips it out, a cassette tape. They sigh with relief, having feared far worse. Daniel surprisingly takes the tape in hand, a hand that will surely be sanitized later, and places it in the boom-box. It doesn’t take long for the late 1990’s hit to play through the PA system and for Bob to begin leading the audience in dance.

Billy: Are you kidding me? Are you KIDDING ME? The Macarena?

The Macarena remixed by the Bayside Boys plays all throughout the building and many of the fans actually join in as Bob struts his stuff. He does every contrived dance step in conjunction with the lyrics while hundreds join in. The reception from the crowd dwarfs the reactions they gave to BFG and Rick-Rohl. Neither man likes this but there is nothing they can do.

Mayne: Dear God why, why did he have to do the Macarena? I thought we were over this craze by now.

The Macarena persists with Bob hopping in place but turning to face the opposite side of the stands. Those fans now begin to copy Bob’s rhythmic maneuvers. This seems to go on for an eternity before the nauseatingly repetitive lyrics end and Ackart calls a halt to the dancing.

Ackart: Alright, alright, alright, I don’t even think I need to ask. Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, BOB!

He grabs Bob’s hand and thrusts his arm high into the air. The big man receives a standing applause from the sold out Chicago crowd.

Billy: It’s over, thank God. If I had to listen to anymore of the Macarena my ears would start bleeding.

BFG is flabbergasted as he grabs Ackart’s collar and spins him around, shouting in his face. Rick-Rohl joins in, the two simultaneously protesting this decision, citing the fact that they had zero time to prepare for Bob. Ackart tells them that the fans have spoken. All the while Bob continues to celebrate, grabbing the boom-box, stuffing it under his arm to feel the vibration through the folds of his fat and now running off of it. The crowd gives him a well deserved standing ovation.

NO GUESSING GAMES

With lowered head and flared nostrils AWOL paces back and forth. The interconnecting web of veins can be seen throbbing through the flesh on his temples. It’s clear by his deep breaths and intimidating brow that the Big Crazy Bastard isn’t happy, that he’s nowhere near complacent. He just continues to pace back and forth in front of the double doors which serve as the primary entry way to the Congress Theater. Despite being in full battle gear the co-holder of the Tag Team Titles does not look mentally prepared for the conflict ahead.

Billy: What’s up with AWOL. He looks more constipated than usual.

Finally the pacing ends and AWOL reveals his true motives. He pushes open the doors and strolls into the enclosed parking facility, making a straight line towards the limo that is parked there. Now two burly security guards are stationed around the back door, arms crossed and stern expressions on their faces. AWOL doesn’t even bother to acknowledge them, reaching between the guards to grab the door and pop it open. They finally intervene.

Guard: Hey Chief, Orlando gave explicit orders that….

AWOL: Do I look like I give a shit what Orlando ordered?

The guard not only shuts up but gulps loud enough for everyone to hear. The more courageous guard steps forward and tries to sound a bit more authoritative.

Guard #2: Now you listen and listen good buddy….

AWOL: No, you listen.

The demand is followed.

AWOL: Normally I wouldn’t be so kind as to make this offer, but I’m granting you a reprieve. Get out of my way and you won’t be carted out of here.

After making an offer nobody can refuse, AWOL reaches for the door. That’s when one of the guards has the audacity to put his palm on his shoulder, physically holding him back.

Guard #2: We just can’t disobey order….

The sentence goes unfinished thanks to the fist that finds its way into the guard’s mouth. He goes down like a sack of bricks, spitting out teeth in the process. The other guard reaches for his flashlight, as if it will provide any protection. That is until a boot meets him to the gut, doubling him over. The back of his head is grabbed and he’s swung around, driven face first into the side door. He then tumbles to the concrete right on top of his colleague, an indentation of his face left in the limo.

After making such short work of the two gentlemen piled on the concrete AWOL cracks his knuckles and opens the limo. He peaks inside and beholds a sight he wasn’t expecting. The limo is completely empty.

THE BELLY OF THE BEAST

THE FOLLOWING PROGRAM HAS BEEN PAID FOR BY SIMON CAGERO

The smell of fish enters my nostrils, as I open my eyes, and realize that this is nothing but a dream. The pink walls fluxuate and ooze with excitement, as I look around me. I take a step, and beneath me, the floor shudders, and releases a squishy sound beneath my feet. Just where am I? Is this a dream? I look at my hands, and they're covered in the decorations I used to wear as Silencer. This is almost too fucked up; I don't know where the hell I am. I mean, it seems familliar, but there's not as much room in here, as there was. I hear a scream from deeper in this place. Where light doesn't touch. I turn toward there, and slowly walk toward the source.

The further in I go, the darker it becomes. It gets to the point, where I cannot see my hand in front of my face. But this does not stop me, I will persevere. I will continue on, and find out where the source of that scream has come from. I feel as if it's my duty to do as such, being the world champion. Being the hero of everything. The darkness does not frighten me, not anymore. I've faced it head on, on many occasions. This time, I'm victorious.

I hear it again. This time, louder, as I'm closer to the source. I reach into my pocket, and pull out a lantern. It's not a huge lantern, small enough to fit into my pocket, for those who doubt any sort of realism that I'm trying to accomplish here, even if it is a dream. I light the lantern swiftly, and look around with haste, trying to find the source of the womanly scream...

And through the darkness, the light cuts...

And I see it...

The cause of the scream...

It's not what you think...

It's much, MUCH worse.

Ron is up on a stage, picking at his banjo, and attempting a rendition of some sort of scream metal. I believe he's trying to do Angel of Death, originally done by Slayer, but this version doesn't stack up. Well, the banjo work does, surprisingly, but the screaming sounds like a Yak in heat. He has an audience, as well. A bunch of midget versions of Riggs. Wearing the facepaint and everything. They seem to be enjoying it, as they have no real idea what talent really is.

Slowly, I walk up to where Ron is located, trying not to disrupt his performance, but in doing so, I fail miserably, as when I walk up on the stage, Bob notices me, and runs at me

“YAY!”; He screams, as he tackles me to the ground, messing up Ron's performance. Ron turns around and looks at me, who's groaning in pain, because of the big blob I have on top of me.

“GOD DAMNIT! I WAS JUST ABOUT TO HIT A RIFT YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!” Bob giggles, and gets off me, finally. I feel as if my ribcage is crushed, but still, I get up, and make it to my feet with a little effort. A little out of breath, I try to speak.

“Sorry...” I manage to release from my voicebox, but not much more. Bob slaps me on the back, rather hard, as I stumble forward, but catch my balance quickly.

“You better be sorry” Ron gives me a dirty look.

“So... Uhh... Where am I?” Ron's dirty look fades into one of satisfaction.

“Remember when we had that little show in Katelyn Buehler's cunt?” I nod. OH GOD, NOT THIS AGAIN!

“Uhh, yes.” I reply

“We're in Suzie's!” I rub my eyes, and shake my head.

“God damnit, now Johnny Kingdom is going to poke at us for recycling material” Ron shakes his head.

“He's one to be a critic. Doesn't he sit in an empty room every time?” I shrug my shoulders.

“I guess you're right. What do we have going on here?” I look out at all the Riggs wannabes.

“Well, I thought I would keep them company until you got here. Then, when you got here, we could errect another shrine of Simon Cagero.” I roll my eyes.

“Every woman needs a Simon Cagero shrine in their cunt.” I say.

“Well, it's either that, or one of me.” Ron rubs his nipples

“OH GOD NO!” I scream, as all the midget Riggs scream in approval.

“What's wrong with that? At least it's not Bob.” I look over at Bob, who's rubbing his silver dollar sized nipples. I shudder in disapproval.

“Please... No....” Bob licks his fingers, as I turn and start to dry heave

“THINK OF THE CHILDREN!” Ron slaps me in the back of the head.

“You base your entire image after the word fuck, and you want to think of the children?” I shake my head.

“No, I just don't want to see Bob in a sexually suggestive position. Do you blame me?” Ron nods in approval

“Point taken.” Ron throws Bob an entire ham. Bob goes down on all fours, and catches the ham like a frisbee, all before swalling the ham almost whole.

“So... What are we going to do here?” Ron looks at me, and strums his banjo.

“Blame it.” He waggles his eyebrows.

“Like Riggs?” He strums his banjo again.

“BLAME IT ON THE BOOGIE, BABY!” All the midget Riggs start to sing and dance along with Ron.

“My baby's always dancin'
And it wouldn't be a bad thing
But I don't get no loving
And that's no lie” I stare blankly, as all the midget Riggs suddenly have white leather shoes on their feet, and are dancing like Michael Jackson.

“We spent the night in Frisco
At every kind of disco
And from that night I kissed
Our love goodbye” Ron's singing his heart out, as Bob joins in for the chorus

“Don't blame it on sunshine
Don't blame it on moonlight
Don't blame it on good times
Blame it on the boogie” Bob starts to blow on his jugs.

“Don't blame it on sunshine
Don't blame it on moonlight
Don't blame it on good times
Blame it on the boogie” All the loons come out, and join in. First, with Naked Ned, playing two kazoos at once, and then followed by Pissing Dave Fields on the water flute. Of course, we can't forget about Alex Fayg on the Meat trumpet.... BUT THAT'S NOT ALL LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! Hunter comes out to play the bagpipes — finally, all his hot air gets put to good use!

“That nasty boogie bugs me
But somehow it has drugged me
Spellbound rhythm gets me
On my feet” 'Boxhead' Crathan Need comes out, with his Keytauir!

“I've changed my life completely
I've seen the lightning leave me
My baby just can't take
Her eyes off me” All the midget Riggs are dressed like Michael Jackson. How could I see that coming? Okay, that's enough

“WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!” I wave my arms, and stop their little song and dance. Ron stops playing his banjo, as everybody looks at me, expectantly.

“What?!” Ron says, rather perturbed that I stopped his song.

“Yeah, I agree, that this sums up Riggs no doubt. But don't we have a shrine to build in here?” Ron gasps in response.

“OH YES! LET'S GET TO IT!” He screams, as Bob let out a scream of pleasure in unison. But from there, everything fades to black.

THE EMPIRE VS. THE FIVE STAR SOCIETY

After the unusual situation backstage the camera is drawn back to the entry way where five horizontally positioned stars flash across the screen. With each flash pyrotechnics rock the entry way. Finally, when all five stars have been illuminated they break apart and the video cuts to an entrance montage. The Five Star Society are making their way through the curtains as the video and their entrance music continues.

Billy: Finally the REAL main event is upon us. I can’t tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to this match. My third leg is literally stiff as a board right now.

Lining the stage is the group that has not only targeted the Empire but matched them in sheer physicality over the past few months. Christian Savior, his shoulder bearing the Cartel Championship, leads the way, with Porno Lad hot on his heels. He makes a few obscene gestures to the females in the audience before bobbing rhythmically side to side to the entrance music. Robin Brooks, her huge belly and all, follows right behind this pear, shouting idle promises to the nearby camera. Just behind her is Ace Marshall, who struts with all the confident in the world, looking more like a man in the midst of a leisurely stroll through the park rather than someone about to wage war with the Empire. Bringing up the rear, a position she’s not use to, is Katie Steward, who brushes back her hair with her hands and scoffs at the reception from the crowd. She obviously could care less what they think of her, or the elite team that she graces with her presence.

Mayne: Man, this has to be the single greatest, and might I add, SEXIEST team I’ve ever seen. That doesn’t make gay for saying that does it?

Inside of the ring four of the turnbuckles become occupied by members of the Five Star Society. They shake their heads dismissively towards the fans and now anticipate the arrival of their opponents.

Billy: This is just like N’Sync versus the New Kids on the Block. Wait, now I really am coming off as flamboyant. Good God, why can’t I stop? Okay, Billy, okay, just talk about how epic this match is and think about Dick Cheney, that will get me through this. Anyway, this feud started MONTHS ago with the mysterious attacks on Kingdom left and right, the Five Star Society making a statement, just like the statement they’ll make tonight, and wow, I really need to find out the conditioner Ace uses on his hair. DAMMIT! That was TOTALLY gay!

The crowd may not care for the image in the ring but they are very excited for the match they’re about to treated to.

The preening and preparation of the Five Star Society ends once the lyrics of the classic Imperial March hit the PA system. The symphony is heightened only by the arrival of the most dominant faction to have ever graced the annals of the IWC, the Empire. Juxtaposed side by side is the trio that will face an army. Johnny leads the way, the Tag strap wrapped around his waist and glistening. His eyes make contact with Porno Lad, who served as the archetype behind all the attacks against him over the past few weeks. Jackson finds himself in the center of the Imperial trio. Years ago he was just a young, charismatic upstart brought in and coached by the likes of AWOL and Kingdom. Now he stands a veteran, a man, a champion, and very much the equal of his former mentors. Standing to the extreme left is AWOL, the Big Crazy Bastard weighed down by his Tag strap and his face surprising subdued, displaying not one genuine emotion. The trio proceeds to the ring even if they were supposed to be a quartet. With the injury inflicted on Hurse they’ll just have to make due.

Mayne: And here come a couple of guys older than Bea Arthur and only half as attractive. Three men who will face a very steep uphill battle when they attempt to clash with a whole society. I cannot wait to see the egg on their faces when it’s Christian, or Ace, or Porno Lad, or Katie who have their arms held high in victory.

No fear or trepidation is shown from Kingdom or AWOL, who leap to the apron side by side. Although they’ve always had conflicting viewpoints and clashing goals, today their united to see to it that the Society doesn’t bring down all they worked so hard to build. Jackson lingers on the outside mats, being a tad bit more cautious and waiting to see who will be bringing up their rear, who will be filling the void left by Hurse. As the Empire’s theme music tapers off the crowd, as well as all those in the ring, teammates or opponents, realize that the time has come to let the cat out of the bag. The mystery partner/opponent shall be revealed NOW.

Billy: Well, let’s see it, who did Orlando pick? What sorry sap did Cruze TRICK into coming back and getting his ass kicked here tonight. I bet it’s going to be Lord X, or even better yet, Bitchcakes McPhee. This should be hilarious…

All eyes remain fixed on the stage before they widen when some all too familiar entrance music blares over the PA system. Within seconds of it hitting the PA system, before the crowd and competitors can get over their shock, to the stage steps an Icon.

“ You Know My Name”

Billy: I think I just shat myself.

The eruption from the crowd shakes the very pillars which support the Congress Theater. Orlando Cruze, the former World Heavyweight Champion, now stands on the stage dressed in full battle regalia. The hyperventilating crowd jumps for joy as they realize the mystery partner Orlando had been alluding to this entire time, was indeed HIMSELF. To say that his teammates or his opponents were as thrilled as the fans would be a lie.

Mayne: Orlando…..Orlando Cruze…..The Icon….The Co-President….HE’S coming back, HE’S the mystery partner!?! Did I drink some of that tea I gave Katie Steward earlier? Tell me this is somehow an illusion brought on by the stress of having watched BFG attempt a pirouette.

Christian is as white as a sheet at the sight of Orlando making his way towards the ring and passing by the Empire. AWOL smirks while Kingdom sneers at the Icon progressing up the steps, climbing a turnbuckle and thrusting his fist high into the air. The reception is deafening for Cruze, the returning warrior stepping in to aid the Empire against the very group that has made his presidency miserable. Jackson is the first of the original Empire members to enter the ring with the Tag Champions slowly following.

Mayne: As much as I hate to face reality, I have to say that Orlando Cruze coming back is just….well….I can’t even describe what I’m feeling right now, so I won’t even try.

The crowd is still reeling over the arrival of the Icon, who takes his place on the apron and eyes his confused partners in the ring. Johnny is still scratching his head while AWOL just shakes his. Jackson on the other hand could care less about how his teammates or his opponents handle this last second curveball, as he makes a move to steal home base. He rushes straight across the ring and before anyone could properly prepare themselves, sweeps the legs of Christian Savior out from under his body.

Billy: Do you see fans, Jackson hasn’t changed one bit, attacking his opponent before the bell could even sound. He’s still the same corner cutting lowlife bastard who smells like week old cheese that he’s always been.

Despite his rumored body odor Adams is mounted on Savior’s sternum and he’s giving him a whiff of some good old fashion bare knuckle shots. The Five Star Society exits the ring but not before arguing with the official over both Orlando’s involvement and this pre-match attack. Their cries are in vain, referee Wright calling for the bell to get the 8 person tag underway regardless of rather the participants were waiting for an official commencement or not.

Adams delivers jab after jab to Savior’s face before finally having his eyes raked by the defenseless Cartel Champion. The Submission Title holder stands and nurses his eyeballs only briefly, so consumed by his anger that even vision impairment won’t slow him down.

He balls up his fists and starts towards Christian who has crawled into the ropes and is holding a palm defensively into the air.

Mayne: That’s right Adams, you had better start playing by the rules for once in your miserable career.

Jackson hesitates for only a moment before glancing in the direction of his partners. His eyes gravitate towards AWOL, who is sliding his thumb across his throat in a slicing gesture. Jackson grins and turns back towards Christian who wisely rolls out of the ring for self preservation purposes.

However, Adams keeps going after him, bending forward to slip through the ropes when Ace Marshall rushes across the apron to cut him off. He then grabs the top rope and pulls himself over, slipping down Jackson’s back and pulling him over into a shocking sunset flip.

From the corner Porno Lad shouts at the official to make the count, Marshall being the “REAL” legal representative of the Five Star Society, at least in his view. Wright slips into position and makes the count although the fans like it about as much as a Michael Richards stand up comedy act.

1

Adams quickly rolls back to his feet and goes rushing forward in order to deliver a running knee strike on his perfectly positioned opponent. Now it’s Ace who rolls out of the ring as quickly as possible to avoid his opponent’s wrath.

Jackson makes the fatal error of hesitating at the ropes, looking through them at the cowardly Marshall who insinuates that he’s having lower back pains. Robin comes to his side, fanning him off with a towel and giving him a bottle of water to drink. He fills his mouth then spits it to the mats. Before Adams can even scoff at this horrid display he’s caught from behind and rolled up into a school boy by a returning Savior.

Billy: They’ve got him already, YAY. Pull the limo up backstage and make sure the New Kids on the Block album is in the tape deck baby.

The antics of the Five Star Society already have Wright confused, trying to decide who is the legal man. Finally he throws his hands up and drops down to the canvas, making the count.

1

Adams gets a shoulder off of the canvas and drops back in the process. As soon as he lands on his knees he reaches out and grabs Christian’s wrist, twisting it forward into a modified arm ringer. The kneeling Savior grits his teeth from the trauma being inflicted on his arm already, his plan having back fired.

The torque being placed on the arm almost snaps some of the muscles within, causing Christian some tremendous grief. From his kneeling base he’s able to effortlessly drop into a forward roll though. He ends up on his back then nips up to his feet, landing with surprising poise. The Submission Champion is stunned when Christian twists around, swings under Adams’ wrist and applies his own arm ringer.

Mayne: That’s how an arm ringer is supposed to be locked on, not like Adams with his backyard, Nintendo 64 training, does it. This is true, crisp professional wrestling at its height.

Just as Billy has finished gushing over the ever so arrogant Savior, Christian finds his hold reversed in a matter of seconds. The Submission Champion quickly cartwheels on one hand across the canvas, lands on his feet and then swings around his opposition’s arm before ultimately tucking it behind his back.

Savior grits his teeth as he finds himself trapped in the hammerlock, slapping his shoulder to keep the blood flowing. Instead of being forced to rely on his training Christian is availed of his current predicament thanks to the intrusion of Katie. Steward enters the ring and goes rushing in to break the hold.

To her surprise Jackson bends forward, as thus forcing Savior to crouch as well and catches her inbound knees against his shoulder. With the hammerlock still applied on Christian, Jackson stands up and back drops Robin through the air, sending her plummeting spine first into the canvas. She flops around holding her rear-end and grabbing at her stomach as well.

Billy: How dare you attack a Goddess! Have you no shame Adams, have you no dignity? Wait, I think it’s pretty obvious that he doesn’t considering he’s actually willing to team with the Empire. Plus that hair dye he uses is just too obnoxious on the eyes.

Jackson is completely upright and spinning Savior around by his still trapped arm. The ever so sudden Adams drops to his knees and delivers a fireman’s carry to put Christian onto his seat. Jackson quickly turns around and applies a modified single arm chickenwing. Haphazardly Katie rolls towards them, finding herself well within the reach of Jackson’s free arm. Without so much as thinking he reaches out, takes Steward around the neck and applies a side headlock while still establishing a chickenwing on the seated Savior.

Mayne: What the hell is this now? He can’t beat on two opponents at the same time, it’s…..it’s…..it’s unethical. YEAH, unethical.

The fans pop at the sight of the double hold established by the clever Submission Champion, working over two opponents at the same time. Given the caliber of his selected targets he’s unable to keep these stereo submissions applied for long. Before he knows what’s happening he’s lost his grasp on Katie, who is being dragged out of the ring and out of the hold by Brooks. She pulls the Goddess to the safety of the apron by her ankle. The distraction causes Jackson to take his eye off of the always dangerous Savior, who quickly bridges up to his feet.

Jackson stands behind him, trying to keep the hold applied before the Rising Phoenix twists, takes him by the wrist and shoots him off into the Empire turnbuckle. When Jackson hits his team’s corner, it’s not a member of the Empire who makes the blind tag but the surrogate himself, Orlando.

Billy: And here comes the spotlight hog himself Orlando. I swear the man has a snout and a spirally little tail hidden under his unflattering trunks.

The Icon is in the ring and the moment the Rising Phoenix recognizes this fact he takes a noticeable step back. The fans packed into the Congress Theater cheer, well informed of the intense rivalry between both these men.

Mayne: I doubt Christian expected to be standing in the ring with Orlando tonight, this is totally throwing him off of his game and it’s not fair. He had literally no time to prepare for a match against his greatest rival.

The fans are more charged than a storm cloud at this point, electrified at the thought of the Savior and Orlando locking it up one more. The many wars they’ve endured are at the forefront of both men’s minds as they step forward with trepidation. Orlando clinches his fists, having waited for so many months to throw them into the face of Savior. Christian has been just as anxious to get one more crack at Orlando.

It seems both men will finally get what they want as they step to the center of the ring. That’s when Orlando cocks back his fist to fire the first shot and Christian turns away to quickly make the tag to Porno Lad.

Billy: Smart strategy, very, very smart strategy by Christian. You fight Orlando when your ready champ, not when the Icon demands it.

With a grin on his face Porno Lad slips into the ring and slowly approaches the amped up Icon. Surprisingly there’s quite a confident swagger in the Prankster’s step as he moves within inches of Orlando. To the shock of the co-owner of the IWC, his opponent makes no motion to attack him, instead he extends a palm rather than throwing a fist.

Mayne: Ummmm, yeah, there we go, alright, good strategy, good strategy. I have no idea what that strategy is, but by saying “good strategy” it makes it sound like I do. Man I love being out here with no one to second guess me, I’m as omnipotent as Superman, only with better pecs.

The crowd is just as confused as the Icon, eyes transitioning from the outstretched palm to the casual smile on Porno Lad’s face. After an eternity of waiting the Five Star Society representative finally clarifies his gesture.

Porno Lad: It’s about time Orlando….

The palm extends even further until it’s almost in Cruze’s face. The former World Heavyweight Champion continues to express his bewilderment so the prankster goes on to fill in more blanks.

Porno Lad: It’s about time you came out here and owned up to your mistake. It’s good, it’s healthy to admit when you were wrong. You made an egregious error far worse than any halftime wardrobe malfunction or racial slip of the tongue when you passed the torch to Axl Evermore. But I assume by your presence here tonight that you’ve come to bestow the torch onto the man truly deserving of such an honor.

Orlando mouths the words “are you serious.”

Porno Lad: So take my hand Icon, and give me what I’ve earned. Then you can slink off back to your beach front condo and bang that super hot bitch of yours.

The smile on his face widens until it almost severs his skull in two. Despite the poor phrasing of Porno Lad’s demands Orlando actually seems to be contemplating the offer. He strokes his jaw and nods as he mulls over his options.

Billy: Oh okay, I get it now. I guess Orlando isn’t the Hitler, Hannibal, Leatherface monster I’ve been making him out to be. What a noble act by Cruze, coming out here to bestow such an honor unto Porno Lad.

Just as Porno Lad begins to loose his patience Orlando finally gives a response. To the disgust of the crowd Orlando extends his palm to reciprocate the handshake. Before their hands can interlock and the crowd can loose all faith in the Icon, Orlando rears back and delivers a devastating knife edge chop to Porno Lad’s chest. The strike is so stiff and so jarring that it takes him from his feet and sends him to the canvas.

Mayne: WHAT!?! Orlando better have forgotten how to shake hands or I’m going to be seriously POed!

Porno Lad rolls across the canvas and palms his bruised sternum, checking on the state of his nipples then looking into the passionate eyes of the aggressor. Although Porno Lad would normally stand up swinging this time he takes a different approach.

Porno Lad: Alright, I get it Cruze, you want to put on this little façade for the fans, that’s fine. I’m not going to hold a grudge against you, so tag Kingdom in RIGHT NOW. He’s the one I want.

Orlando again debates his response before looking over his shoulder at Kingdom who is feigning surprise. He motions to himself with his eyebrows arched and pupils blinking awkwardly. He glances back and forth at the fans who are begging him to get in there against Porno Lad and who is he not to give the crowd what they paid for. They go nuts as his palm extends over the canvas and Orlando panders to the desires of the spectators by slapping it.

Billy: Oooooh baby, oh yeah, this is the one I’ve been waiting for. Johnny Kingdom versus Porno Lad, a clash of the Titans, just not with all those ridiculous claymation stop motion effects.

Shortly after the tag has been made Kingdom slides into the ring and comes forehead to forehead with his mischievous rival. Their cultures, their perspectives, their generations collide when they bump noggins and begin spewing hateful rhetoric directly into one another’s faces. Finally Porno Lad has the unmitigated audacity to slap Johnny right across the cheek.

Kingdom grabs at his face for a moment and then delivers a straight haymaker directly on the button. Porno Lad is almost taken down but instead goes staggering as Johnny follows, delivering jab after jab until he’s finally put to his back. Porno Lad rolls across the canvas grabbing at his possibly fractured jaw and then falling into a turnbuckle. The Team Leader builds some momentum and crashes into Ethan’s face with a running knee strike.

Mayne: Come on ref, what are you doing? Get your finger out of your dike and stop Johnny’s blatant disregard for the rules. It states right here in the new Five Star Society edition of the IWC rule book that blows to Porno Lad’s face are explicitly prohibited. And that’s pretty much it, there aren’t any other rules.

Johnny grabs Porno Lad by the hair, pulls him to his feet then delivers a straight slap across his cheek. The symbolic blow sends the Five Star Society member staggering out of the corner, holding onto the top rope in the process until he stumbles right into a lariat. AWOL launches his arm over the top rope and drives his bicep directly into the former N.H.B Champion’s throat, taking him right down to the canvas gasping for air.

Billy: This is appalling. I’ve never seen such a disregard for the rules.

With Porno Lad incapacitated by the illegal lariat he’s unable to fend off the series of stomps connecting to his sternum. Johnny grips the top rope for added leverage as his boot drills the sternum of his adversary over and over again. It takes the intervention of Wright to pry to stop these damaging blows, physically dragging him away from Porno Lad.

Johnny tosses the official aside and drops down right on top of PL, this time delivering repeated jabs to his forehead. His punch connects with blinding speed to the skull of his rival until Christian finally gets involved on his team’s behalf. He enters the ring and rushes straight at Johnny who stands just in time to catch him with an Atomic drop. A stunned Savior is elevated and then dragged down crotch first directly into the raised knee of the Team Leader.

Just as the Rising Phoenix hops back gripping at his family jewels Kingdom stands in front of him and unloads with a devastating punch square to the nose. Christian is taken down to the canvas, and although he is laid out for his troubles his distraction does prove effective. Porno Lad has just enough time to stand and deliver a big step up enzugari to the back of Kingdom’s head. The stiff strike knocks Johnny forward, sending him reeling into a turnbuckle sternum first.

Mayne: There we go. That’s how you teach a trouble maker and rule breaker a lesson.

The dinger to the back of the skull has cleaned Kingdom’s clock and left him numb to the world. He has no idea that he’s ended up in the Five Star Society corner where Katie and Ace have each taken a wrist and are dragging on it. Kingdom is wedged to the corner as Porno Lad rushes up behind him and sails into the air. He comes down with a forearm strike square to the back of his rival’s neck.

Johnny is spun around, juxtaposed against the corner spine first. Ace and Katie continue to reach over the ropes and pin his arms back as Porno Lad’s tongue slips down his palm and he delivers a deadly knife edge chop. Porno Lad steps back, licks his palm again and then moves in and hits another chop, this one with even greater force than before.

Mayne: Porno Lad can keep this up all day long, it’s why he’s always popping those magical blue pills backstage.

Porno Lad decides that he’s not about to have all the fun, tagging out to the quote un quote “TRUE” SCW World Champion. The moment Katie’s foot hits the canvas she’s met with a loud roar of boos, causing her to roll her eyes and deliver a stomp directly to Johnny’s stomach.

She then turns her back to Kingdom and begins delivering reverse elbows with both arms. One elbow connects after another to both sides of Johnny’s face, severally rattling the Team Leader’s skull. Before the official can interrupt Katie’s elbow extravaganza she turns and leaps into the air, standing on the middle rope and wedging a knee to Kingdom’s throat in the process.

Billy: Hahaha, the Goddess proving she’s just as vicious in the ring as she is on the microphone. She won that SCW World Title for the reason and it isn’t just because she has great legs, although I’m sure it doesn’t hurt.

The illegal choking with the knee continues until the official counts to four and Katie drops down. She then leaps right back into the air in the process of delivering a reverse heel kick straight to Johnny’s chin. The strike causes him to collapse to his knees, arm wrapped around the middle rope.

His body falls into a bad position, throat and arms dangling over the second cable, perfectly placed for his treacherous opponents. Porno Lad stands on one side of his skull while Christian is located opposite to his partner. They stare across the apron at one another, grin, nod and take off. While Porno Lad connects with a knee to Kingdom’s temple, Christian leaps forward into a front dropkick to the other side of his head.

The skull crunching sandwich just delivered by the Rising Phoenix and Original Prankster seemingly has Kingdom completely incapacitated. His eyes roll to the back of his head yet he remains placed over the middle rope just long enough for Katie to rush in behind him, leap into the air, land seat first across the back of his head and slip across it to the outside of the ring. She lands on the mats after choking Johnny against the middle rope with all of her body weight.

Mayne: That was art, that was beauty, that was Divinchi -esque teamwork from the greatest team ever assembled. And might I add, the best looking team as well.

Johnny rolls back to the center of the ring, gripping at his traumatized neck and shaking off the effects of the numerous blows to his head. His mind is elsewhere, in lala land, in some distant ethereal realm. His mental muddle progresses once he rolls to his feet, slouched forward with fingers tapping the canvas, and suffers a running leaping knee strike from Katie. The blow connects directly to his temple and sends him twisting to the canvas.

The moment she connects with the blow Steward steps across the ring and moves up the ropes, throwing one leg over the top rope to stabilize herself. Stability is key, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to gesture to herself, taunting and bragging like she just hit the buzzer beater.

Mayne: Yeah, she has the right to show off, baby….ohhh nos!

The bragging ends the moment Steward is grabbed by the throat, heaved over the top rope and dropped to the apron. Her eyes are bugging from her sockets as she stares into the twisted features of the Big Crazy Bastard. AWOL’s grimace is so intimidating that Steward turns a bright shade of white, his gaze leaving her almost breathless.

Once again Robin interjects from the outside of the ring, rushing up behind AWOL, grabbing his leg and trying to rip it out from under him. Robin’s plan works, causing the Big Crazy Bastard to release Katie but backfires when she becomes the target. A handful of her hair is grabbed and she’s yanked up onto the apron, AWOL now slapping his hand around her throat.

Billy: That is a pregnant woman AWOL, you let her go, you let her go RIGHT NOW! This company has seen one too many dead babies as it is. Actually, I think there’s a whole dumpster full of them backstage.

A screaming Robin is hoisted into the air and prepares to be sent flying to the outside of the ring. Just before an unwanted pregnancy comes to an unwanted conclusion Katie interjects. She delivers a straight kick to AWOL’s ribs, causing him to release Robin and drop back to the safety of the apron. She leaps to the outside of the ring while AWOL doubles over, gripping his mid-section.

Steward now backs up and gets a running start before walking right into a powerful big boot square to the jaw. AWOL sends her toppling to the apron and then rolling back into the ring. The stunned SCW Champ rolls to the center of the squared circle before her arm is grabbed and tucked between the legs of a recovered Kingdom. He clamps his knees around her wrist, rears back on the chin and applies the Lesson in Leadership to a Manhattan Center shaking ovation.

Mayne: Noooo! It can’t end this quickly for Steward. Don’t tell me she’s going to submit!

Kingdom wrenches back as far on the chin as possible before Robin once again tries to interfere on her Brat Pack sister’s behalf. She slides into the ring, desperately clawing her way towards the prone Katie before her ankle is grabbed and she’s dragged to the outside of the squared circle. Brooks lands on her feet in front of a very tense, malicious individual who sends her to the mats with a gruesome uppercut to the jaw.

Billy: Damn you AWOL, damn you and your shinny skull. You sick twisted whore!

The crowd cringes at the sight of the blow that has sent Brooks plummeting to the mats, laid out completely at the feet of the murderous Empire stalwart. Now that the Five Star Society’s ace in the hole has been dealt with, Katie has no other alternative but to submit.

She raises her hand into the air on the verge of tapping out before Marshal proves his worth to the Five Star Society. He leaps across the ring, flips over Kingdom’s head, grabbing it in the process and snaps it back. The modified blockbuster leads to a break in the Lesson in Leadership, instead of a break in Katie’s neck.

Mayne: Oh thank you Ace, thank you. Your like a thousand wonderful sunsets, and a thousand beautiful midgets holding fragrant bouquets.

Marshall rolls away from the traumatized Kingdom then slips through the ropes to the apron. He takes his place beside Porno Lad and outstretches his hand in anticipation of a tag. The wounded Katie comes crawling towards him, unable to put very much weight on one of her shoulders. With arm mangled by the Lesson in Leadership it’s a miracle she’s still able to extend it and slap the palm of Marshal, bringing him back into the match.

Johnny has just reached his feet when Ace lunges into the air, showing some great vertical leap and takes him down with a dropkick directly on the button. The Team Leader plummets to the canvas, grabbing at his face from the trauma and then rolling towards a turnbuckle.

Billy: With Ace on the scene there is going to be no place, NO PLACE for Kingdom to hide. Stay on him Marshall, make the ring small, cage the man, cage him like the smelly beast he is.

Johnny finds his way into another corner and utilizes it to ascend to his wobbly feet. Although his legs barely support him he’s able to turn and spot Ace barreling in. He leaps high into the air and his knee is driven directly to Johnny’s jaw, almost shattering it on impact.

Mayne: Ouch…hahahaha I love it almost as much I love twisting my own nipples.

Ace, much like Katie, takes a moment to jaw jack with the fans, quite pleased by his aerial display. However, just like Katie, his showmanship proves detrimental. Johnny steps out of the corner with Ace on his shoulder then drops back, causing him to fall face first into the top turnbuckle pad.

Now its Ace’s bell that has been rung, still standing because his body has yet to catch up with the trauma inflicted on the brain. Kingdom, who is equally as winded and shell shocked by the numerous moves he’s taken throughout the match, hooks Marshall’s leg and drags him backwards into the school boy. Pressure is applied to the back of the thighs, going for the pin on the SCW super-star.

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Mayne: Kick out Ace, kick out like your livelihood depended on it, as it very may well.

Ace’s shoulder shoots from the canvas seconds before the third slap of the canvas. He drops back to his knees, rushes to his feet and then throws a fist directly at an unstable Kingdom’s face. Ace’s quickness does not prove helpful on this occasion, Kingdom scouting the haphazardly thrown knuckle, catching his arm and forcing him down into the Lesson in Leadership.

Billy: MWAAAAH!

Before Marshall even knows what’s happening his hand is raising into the air, on the verge of slapping the canvas and giving into the punishment. This time it’s Savior who intervenes, slipping into the ring and getting a running start. Just as he reaches out to rake the eyes, Kingdom breaks the hold, stands, side steps the inbound arm, grabs it, and forces him down to the canvas.

Now it’s the Rising Phoenix placed in the Lesson in Leadership.

Mayne: He’s already put that hold on three members of the Five Star Society. This is cheating, this is CHEATING I say. You should only be allowed to use the same move once, except if it’s the Epic Fail, or the Blaze of Glory, those moves I can stand to see all day long.

Kingdom wrenches back on the arm, roaring with intensity. As the shoulder threatens to snap Christian slaps the canvas, tapping out. Unfortunately he is not the legal man, making his submission meaningless. Nevertheless he continues slapping the ring, giving into the pain. Finally a boot to the back of the head breaks up the crossface, a boot delivered by Marshall.

Billy: Thank you and your perfectly sized foot Ace. I just want everyone to know that Marshall never has to worry about finding the right size of shoes, he’s so perfect his feet are universal, they conform to any size.

With his arm cradled to his chest Ace reaches down and takes Johnny around the neck, leading him up to his knees. He cocks back his fist and is prepared to throw it before Kingdom delivers a headbunt directly to his ribs. Ace is doubled over as Johnny reaches his feet and goes for a European Uppercut. Marshall side steps it, places his back to Kingdom’s and back slides him down to the canvas.

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Johnny slips his shoulder from the ring, drops to the canvas in front of Ace and then reaches out, hooking his arms. Marshall’s arms are pinned to the sides of his thighs as he’s raised into the air, held upside down and dropped directly on top of his head with the package piledriver.

Mayne: WAIT….that’s inconceivable.

An extremely fatigued Kingdom is incapable of making the cover even though his opponent lays in a prone state before him. As his chest heaves, desperate to get some oxygen into his lungs and his brow drips with sweat, the Team Leader turns to his side, slowly crawling towards his corner. For once Johnny is willingly seeking help, hand extending towards the corner.

They are mere centimeters removed from AWOL’s twiddling fingers, the Big Crazy Bastard desperate to get in there and unleash some punishment on the Five Star Society.

Mayne: Someone….oh thank heavens, or hell, whoever is responsible for this miracle.

Savior’s hand wraps around Johnny’s ankle and pulls the Leader away from his team. Kingdom gets a foot down on the canvas to keep from being dragged to the enemy corner. As a result he’s pulled up onto it, hobbling upon one leg at this point. Before Christian can take him down Johnny does the job for him by leaping into the air for the enzugari. Savior had it scouted, ducking the foot and watching as Johnny collapses to the canvas, head hitting the canvas with a thud.

Kingdom grabs his jaw, stunned by the unexpected impact with the canvas yet still willing himself to an upright base. He slowly reaches his feet, staggering as he turns into Savior who was waiting to uncoil his wrath with the veracity of a cobra. He strikes, jumping into the air and catching Johnny around the neck for the cutter. However, the move is shockingly countered into a reverse neckbreaker by his crafty prey.

Billy: I sincerely hope I did not see what I think I saw. Its times like these I wish God just struck me blind deaf and dumb. That way I’d be just like Jon Rich.

The back of his head hits the ring hard, causing Christian to sit up looking positively dumbfounded. Johnny now leaps forward, slaps the hand of AWOL and brings the Big Crazy Bastard into the ring. The old cliché rings true, business is about to pick up. The moment that Christian rolls to his feet is a moment he lives to regret. A slap connects to one cheek, and then the other, AWOL drilling him to the skull with a multitude of blows that have him all off kilter.

He nearly goes down before being grabbed by the back of the head, charged at the ropes and thrown through them. In the process of flying to the outside he becomes a Rising Phoenix no more, instead he’s a projectile weapon sent crashing into a rising Brooks. The Black Widow had just regained her consciousness long enough to spot Christian sailing into her with a headbunt that knocks them both to the mats.

Billy: I hope pregnant women of the world unite to file a huge class action lawsuit against AWOL. And I’m sure the pro-life activists will be all over his gargantuan ass.

AWOL hops in place for several moments, watching as Robin and Christian assist one another to their feet. That’s when the Big Crazy Bastard takes off. He rushes across the ring, leaps over the top rope and plummets into both of them, all three competitors crumbling to the mats to a major pop.

Mayne: WOW! Did that just come from my mouth? I think I just lost all faith in myself.

All three, technically four counting Robin’s unborn spawn, hit the mats but it’s AWOL who pops right back to his feet. He steps forward, swings his foot into the barricade and shows just how fired up he truly is. The crowd reacts passionately, pumping with an equal amount of adrenaline.

After the leap of faith from the Big Crazy Bastard he returns to the ring, slipping in through the ropes. He’s about half way through the cables when Ace leaps off of the middle ropes at his side, knee drilling the temple of his the Empire member. AWOL goes twisting to the canvas as a result, Ace landing beside him then staggering to his corner where the tag is made.

The fresh Porno Lad enters and goes charging right into a timely spinebuster on behalf of the Big Crazy Bastard.

Billy: This is so uncool. It’s like Dustin Diamond uncool.

Porno Lad arches his possibly shattered spine from the canvas while AWOL steps back, hunching forward possibly in anticipation of delivering the Daisy Cutter. That’s when his shoulder is slapped from behind, causing the intense big man to spin around and give Jackson the good old fashion stink eye.

He can’t believe it, temples dancing in his temples and flames almost shooting from his nostrils. He watches as Jackson ascends the turnbuckle, reaching the top rope. To a major celebration from the crowd Jackson comes flying off of the top rope, connecting with a big frog splash right on top of Porno Lad.

The crowd is screaming as he hooks the leg for the pin.

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Billy: Don’t tell me Porno Lad’s gonna be the first to go.

The hand comes down to the canvas but doesn’t connect before Porno Lad’s shoulder lunges into the air.

Mayne: Shooo…

Jackson doesn’t like the speed of the count but doesn’t bother with a futile stating of his case, instead he puts his focus on driving his boots into the prone body of Porno Lad. Kick after kick connects, causing Porno Lad tremendous grief as he tries to roll away. He can’t move fast enough to evade the blows of his opponent. Jackson finally grabs him by the wrist, forces him up to his feet and then hooks both arms. He looks around and lets the crowd know he’s going for the Blissful Arrogance.

That’s before Porno Lad wedges his feet to the canvas and pushes him backwards across the canvas until Adams is eventually slammed spine first into the turnbuckle. His arms break away from Porno Lad who then backs up and gets a running start for another spear to the ribs.

Adams reaches out and catches him around his inbound head though, then jumps backwards to the middle rope, springs off and twists into a tornado DDT. Porno Lad is spiked right on top of his head, sent flipping over to his seat and then quickly placed in a pinning predicament.

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Porno Lad kicks out of the Submission Champion’s lateral press.

Billy: Another kick out by Porno Lad, it’s going to take more than this to finish off the NEXT World Heavyweight Champion.

After being spiked right on top of his head Porno Lad finds himself dead to the world and at the mercy of an abnormally intense Adams. He slowly tries to get up as Adams stands behind him, fingers twiddling in anticipation of getting a hold of him. The disorientated Porno Lad reaches his feet when Jackson moves in, hooks both arms and prepares for the Blissful Arrogance. He’s just about to hit it when his shoulder is slapped from behind. Jackson’s eyes are like daggers, digging and twisting into the face of AWOL.

He drops his guard entirely just as Ace enters the ring, rushes up on him and delivers the STO back breaker. He pulls Adams off of his partner, bridges him over and drives his spine directly into his raised knee. Adams drops off and rolls across the canvas as AWOL now enters the ring but suffers a leaping back heel kick to the jaw. The Big Crazy Bastard ricochets from the ropes, comes back in at Ace and is caught under the arm. Marshall sweeps the leg and delivers the full nelson face buster.

Mayne: Marshall on a roll. It’ll be tough stopping his momentum now. Keep it up Marshall, and your future will be aces….sorry, I’m kind of disappointed with myself for that.

AWOL rolls to his back while Ace rolls across the ring to the apron at the behest of a furious official. The damage has already been done, AWOL and Adams both suffering the effects of Marshall’s moves. He isn’t through yet, extending his hand and looking for a tag. He doesn’t have to wait for long as an exasperated, aching Porno Lad crawls in and slaps his outstretched palm.

Billy: He’s got the tag back into this match and now it’s time to see some true domination from the Five Star Society.

Ace slips into the ring and immediately goes to work on behalf of his benefactors. He rushes straight at the rising AWOL and begins to pummel him with punches, kicks, forearms and even a few classic eye gouges. Instead of going down to the canvas the monster seems to be feeding off of these strikes until he is upright. A European Uppercut sends him spiraling though and almost falling into the ropes. He catches himself against the upper most cable, trying to support his already weary frame.

Marshall allows no rest for the wicked, barreling in but ultimately getting caught straight across AWOL’s shoulders. He back drops him over the ropes only for Ace to catch the uppermost cable, twist his body and land feet first on the apron.

AWOL spins around and finds his eyes full of finger nails, being raked and momentarily blinded by Marshall. He twists towards the center of the ring as Ace prepares to take advantage. That is until he’s grabbed by the shoulder, spun around, caught by the neck and drilled with an X-factor style face buster onto the steel apron. Shortly after delivering the move Adams falls to the outside mats, gripping at his posterior.

Mayne: Nooo, what have you done to Ace’s beautiful, award winning face? You’ve mangled it, you hose beast!

The sound of Ace’s skull hitting the apron with such force causes the grins to gasp. They now watch Marshall rolls back into the ring where AWOL is still palming his traumatized eyeballs. He now reaches down, grabs Ace by the bangs, forces him up to his feet and sticks his arm through his legs. By all rights Ace is completely out of it, even as he’s lifted into the air and planted into the canvas with the Daisy Cutter.

Billy: No, no, no, thank happy thoughts and float away Ace, that way you can’t be pinned.

AWOL sluggishly crawls into the cover, hooking Ace’s leg for the three count. The crowd watches on as does the exhausted Five Star Society, who can’t get in the ring in time to break up the pin.

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Katie dives in a fraction of a second before the count, keeping their team alive.

Mayne: Oh thank Goddess. Literally.

Porno Lad looks absolutely relieved, watching through sullen eyes as Marshall rolls across the canvas, having no idea what just happened to him.

Steward looks to avenge him, her boot connecting repeatedly with the back of AWOL’s head. She eventually steps in and takes him by the wrist, trying to force him up to his feet. However, Steward quickly realizes that she doesn’t have the strength to pull him up despite her best efforts. She tugs again only to find AWOL as heavy as a small compact car.

She finally gives up once she looks into AWOL’s eyes, the Big Crazy Bastard now shaking his head as if to tell her “no, no, no, shame on you.”

From his kneeling base he now pulls Katie forward into a short arm clothesline that knocks her to the canvas. The Goddess hits the ring hard and rolls away from her menacing opponent. He stands and prepares to give pursuit only to spot an usual sight, something he is very unaccustomed to, the outstretched palm of Orlando Cruze, BEGGING for a tag. AWOL finds himself in a very unique predicament, debating rather or not to bring him into the contest before he eventually grins, extends his hand and slaps the Icon’s palm. The roof almost comes off the Congress Theater as Orlando steps foot in the ring once again.

Mayne: I never thought I’d see this, and now that I do, I swear I want nothing more than a bucket to barf in.

Although he’s made the tag AWOL has no intention of leaving the ring, even at the behest of a frustrated official. He turns and spots Porno Lad finally standing up on the apron and moves in to decimate him. His actions prove short sighted however, so focused on the Original Prankster that he fails to see Christian climbing to the apron beside him. The Empire competitor spots him too late to stop the shoulder connecting with his ribs through the ropes.

AWOL finds himself doubled over before being placed in a front chancery by the Cartel Champion. He nods towards Porno Lad, the two agreeing on a course of action. Porno Lad locks his arm around AWOL’s neck as well before both men heave with all the strength that they’ve got. To the shock of every Chicago fan the Big Crazy Bastard travels over the ropes and goes crashing to the outside mats with a double vertical suplex by the Five Star Society.

Billy: SICK!

Christian and Porno Lad collapse right alongside the massive beast, the trio all laid out after the sickening suplex. None of them are aware of what’s happening in the ring as a shaken Katie rises to her feet with Orlando crouched behind her. The Icon feeds on the response from the anxious crowd, every fan clamoring around the barricades to get a close up view of the move that has defined the IWC for seven years.

Billy: Shut up people, your only encouraging him.

Steward finally turns around, gets caught around the sternum and heaved into the air for the first Rock Bottom seen in six months. Katie is elevated off of her feet but she is not driven down to the canvas, instead she reverses. She catches Orlando around the neck and hooks his leg in the process with her own, pulling him down into the small package. The crowd’s hearts sink at this sight as Katie counters the Rock Bottom into a pin that may just result in Orlando’s defea.

Mayne: HA-HA, a quick pinfall on Cruze, this is GREEEEAT!

The ref slips into position and makes the count to squeals from the crowd.

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Orlando kicks out just mere seconds before he could be pinned by the “rightful SCW World Champion.” Katie rolls across the canvas and slaps it, looking frustrated that she didn’t pull off the improbable.

Billy: Oh pish posh, we all know that was three.

A shocked Katie reaches her feet, takes Orlando’s head into her hands and prepares to put him right back into retirement. The moment Orlando rushes to his feet his head is pulled down and put into a bad position. He’s perfectly set for the “Save the Queen.” She hooks both arms and steps over his head in preparation for the pedigree.

Mayne: Small package doesn’t work, so now you take the more direct approach. Get him out of there Katie.

She leaps into the air to deliver the move only for the Icon to suddenly stand up, trying to back drop her over to the canvas. Steward twists her body though, extending herself out across Orlando’s shoulders and then wrapping up his arms with her legs, trying to pull him down into the crucifix pin.

Somehow Orlando remains on his feet and with all his upper body strength uses one arm to swing Katie around his back and send her into almost a full rotation. She ends up landing on her feet directly in front of Orlando before quickly rushing in with a right hand that is countered into a Rock Bottom. Steward is planted into the canvas with the wounded Icon coming down beside her.

Mayne: Don’t tell me the Queen of Queens is going to be defeated. Lie to me, or force me to watch Santa with Muscles, anything but this!

The pinfall continues, Orlando on the verge of picking up a monumental victory in his very first match back.

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A boot connects directly to the Icon’s face, breaking up the pinfall to the squeals of the crowd.

Billy: Oh thank God, I would so kiss Christian’s feet if wouldn’t scream “rape.”

Robin slaps the apron and shouts for Christian to stay on his age old rival, which is exactly what he does. The Rising Phoenix pulls Cruze up to his feet, finally wanting to get physical with the man he has waged a long standing feud with. That’s when a boot drills him to the ribs and Orlando delivers a thunderous European Uppercut. Christian is staggered into the ropes but not taken down.

It isn’t until he’s hit with a roaring European Uppercut to the jaw that Savior is sent flipping backwards over the cables before ultimately crashing to the outside mats.

As Orlando dishes out some just deserved brutality on Savior, behind his back Robin is once again playing a key factor in this match. She grabs a steel chair out from under the ring and inserts it under the ropes. It slides right into the waiting hands of Katie.

Billy: Good, use the chair, use it quick.

The Goddess of Desire sluggishly rises to her feet with the chair in hand. Before the official can do anything about it Steward turns and begins to swing the steel. That’s when her legs are unexpectedly ripped out from under her and she collapses to the canvas spine first.

Orlando steps through the legs, wraps them around his own and pulls her over into the sharpshooter.

Billy: Sharpshooter, not the sharpshooter, anything but the sharpshooter. Why do I keep saying sharpshooter? Oh, that’s right, because I loathe the sharpshooter.

The crowd is going absolutely nuts as Orlando rears back on the submission as far as he can until Katie’s spine is almost severed. Her hand raises tentatively into the air, on the verge of slapping the canvas and succumbing to the pressure. It isn’t until Ace intervenes that she’s given a reprieve.

Despite taking the face buster and the Daisy Cutter, Marshall is back in the ring and charging in with a lariat. Orlando breaks the sharpshooter just in time to duck his arm and catch Ace across the chest, transitioning into the Rock Bottom. He fails to connect thanks to the elbow that drills him straight to the back of the head.

The strike sends Orlando staggering forward into the waiting clutches of Porno Lad. He reaches over the ropes and locks both of Cruze’s arms behind his back, holding him in perfect position for his tag team partner.

Ace kisses his fist, sneers in the direction of the Empire and then charges in for a blow. That is until Porno Lad’s grip is broken thanks to the Big Crazy Bastard and his grip on the prankster’s ankle. Porno Lad is yanked from the apron, falling to the mats right in front of AWOL who promptly nails him with a big boot straight under the jaw.

Porno Lad goes down like a sack of potatoes while a recovered Savior tries to come to his aid.

Mayne: Why can’t AWOL EVER play by the rules? Why must be chronically cheat?

Christian spins AWOL around and nails him to the jaw with a vicious closed fist. The shot has him staggered but not taken down. He plants his feet and leans on the apron for support, still suffering the effects of that dangerous double suplex to the outside of the ring.

Billy: Get him Savior, get that big phallic symbol.

Savior cocks back his fist for another strike only to have his elbow hooked and to be spun around. Christian makes a quick correction in his choice of target, now lobbing a fist at Kingdom who quickly ducks it. He catches Savior’s knee to his shoulder and stands up straight, back flipping him through the air.

Savior catches tremendous height before ultimately plummeting across his back on the thin protective mats.

Mayne: This isn’t going as planned at all, no, look out Ace.

Marshall rushes in to deliver a straight jab to Orlando’s still exposed face before the Icon ducks it. He steps around behind Ace who is unable to stop himself before he ricochets off of the cables. He bounces off and comes back in at Orlando who catches Marshall with a huge Samoan Drop.

Billy: Poor Ace, this isn’t what he was expecting when he came to the IWC….BYAH, PORNO LAD!

On the outside of the ring AWOL and Kingdom have interlocked hands and are charging straight at an upright Porno Lad, delivering a double lariat to his throat that knocks him over the barricade into the crowd.

Mayne: This is madness, this is insanity squared to the tenth power. Wait, is that mathematically possible. It’s times like these I wish I had paid attention in math class instead of day dreaming about those chicks from Too Wong Foo.

Shortly after delivering the Samoan Drop, Orlando reaches his feet and spots Katie barreling towards him with the aid of the ropes. The quick Icon is fast enough to catch Katie, wedging his hands to her ribs and throwing the Queen of Queens into the air. She catches tremendous height but then counters into an unexpected dropkick in mid-air, taking Orlando down to the canvas.

Billy: There we go…..OH NO!

Steward stands up, smiling as arrogantly as her cheeks will allow before exploding. The grin is removed as well as a few teeth perhaps, thanks to the missile dropkick that Adams delivers straight to her face. His flight from the top rope pays off, taking Steward down hard and sending her rolling across the ring in a lot of pain.

Adams stands up and throws his arms out to his sides before turning to overlook the many squealing fans. That is until his attention deviates to Robin, who is a little too close to the ring for her own protection. Adams briefly overlooks the fans and then grins diabolically, slowly closing in on his long time nemesis.

Mayne: Watch out Robin, watch out.

Jackson reaches through the ropes and grabs a handful of Brooks’ hair. She squeals and kicks frantically as Jackson forces her up onto the apron and tries to pull her into the ring.

Billy: Won’t somebody please help this poor pregnant woman?

The good Samaritan on this occasion proves to be Ace, who slips in behind Jackson, takes him around the waist and drops back. He rolls Adams over in reverse before reaching his feet and then snapping back into a release German suplex. The chaos theory rolling German connects, putting a lot of pressure on the back of Jackson’s neck and shoulders. He springs from the canvas and rolls to his back while Marshall reaches his feet and spots his opponents on the outside of the ring.

Kingdom and AWOL are working over Christian with some stomps, their backs completely turned towards Ace. The moment they start to turn towards the ring Marshall rushes across the ring, leaps over the ropes, lands feet first on a turnbuckle then back flips into a moonsault that sends him crashing straight into the Tag Team Champions.

Billy: Ohhh, that was as gorgeous as Katie Steward’s….well….everything.

The fans are slapping the barricades and stomping their feet in joy over what they just witnessed. Everyone is swept up into this madness, this classic foray of non-stop action moving at such a blinding pace that it’s virtually impossible to keep up with all the goings on.

Ace and the Tag Champs remain strewn across the mats and at this point the only person standing is Orlando. That changes once the Goddess reaches her feet on the opposite side of the ring. In an exasperated, aching state she reaches her feet, the turnbuckle serving as a crutch at this point.

Orlando spots her from the opposite side of the ring and gets a big running start. He begins to leap at her for what looks to be a splash, showing that the Icon has ZERO ring rust. However, Katie reverses by diving out of the corner a split second earlier, slipping around Orlando’s thigh and catching him by the back of the trunks.

The Icon is pulled over into the school boy with Katie kicking her feet up into the air and placing them over the middle rope.

Mayne: Count ref, COUNT!

The official hits the canvas the moment he sees the pin being made, blind or just plain ignorant to the fact that Steward is using the ropes for an unfair advantage.

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3!

NO! Orlando’s shoulder evades the canvas and defeat, leaving Steward absolutely speechless.

Billy: Dammit. I should have known that Orlando would pay off one of these referees to be his hired stooge.

Wright stands up and confirms that it was a two count bringing Katie to resort to more desperate actions. She screams at Robin and then grabs Orlando’s arms, pinning them behind his back. Orlando is forced to his feet and defenseless against Brooks who has leaped to the apron, reaching under her shirt and removing a can of hairspray.

Mayne: This is no time to give Orlando styling tips Katie, besides he has no hair to style.

Robin shakes up the can and prepares to spray while official Wright is distracted by Christian trying to re-enter the ring illegally. Once again Wright is unaware of the blatant cheat occurring behind his back. Robin finally gives Orlando’s eyes a good saturation of hair-spray, or so she thought.

Orlando ducks down out of the way in the nick of time, causing Katie to be the one who is blinded. Her plan backfires in a big way, leaving her at the mercy of the Icon. Orlando steps forward and delivers a straight punch to the jaw of Brooks, the very woman who laid him out with a stunner several months ago. She plummets to the mats, unable to help Katie who is swinging her arms at the air. One of her fists almost connects to Orlando’s face only for him to duck it, hook her armpit and then drag her down into the back slide.

Billy: I can’t watch this. I’d rather watch Secret Agent Club than this crappolla.

Official Wright finally breaks away from Christian conveniently just in time to make the count. He falls to the canvas and slaps the ring.

1

2

3!

The combined power of the Empire and Orlando Cruze proved to be just too much for the Five Star….wait, no, Katie kicked out!

Mayne: I swear to God I’m going to need a respirator after this match is over.

Orlando rises from his knees in utter shock that he didn’t pick up the win. He is so blinded by his frustration that he doesn’t even see Christian charging straight into his mid-section with a rib shattering spear. Cruze is taken from his feet and down to the canvas, where he grabs at his gut in terrible pain.

Billy: SPEAR!

An exhausted Savior rises to his feet and stumbles into his corner. He slips through the ropes and then reaches over them, slapping his palms together to alert the still blind Katie that he wants the tag. Steward is rubbing frantically at her eyes as she scoots on her knees across the canvas, drawn to the clapping hands.

Savior is desperate to get in there and take advantage of Orlando’s predicament, but he doesn’t get the opportunity once Jackson intervenes.

Adams rushes across the apron, grabs the back of Savior’s head then pulls him face first into the exposed steel turnbuckle post. He bounces off and then goes spiraling off of the apron straight to the outside mats.

Billy: Damn you ref, can’t you get these guys under control already? This is like a train wreck, only less fun.

Savior lies motionless on the mats while Jackson occupies his space on the apron. His eyes turn towards the ring where Katie is still crawling across her knees reaching out for the tag. A grin comes to Jackson’s face before he winks in the direction of the fans then extends his hand out over the top rope. Katie, her vision still impaired, reaches out and slaps Adams’ palm, tagging him into the match.

Mayne: Poor Katie, if she only knew what she just did she’d have that hand amputated.

Adams leaps over the top rope and cocks back his fists as he glares at Orlando’s back side, urging him to reach his feet. The fans get a good chuckle at Jackson hamming it up, actually pretending that he’s going to target Cruze just because Katie tagged him in.

Finally Jackson drops the act, spinning around towards the upright Katie’s backside and hooking her arms. He pulls her around and then falls to his seat, delivering the unprettier to a roar of approval from the crowd.

Billy: Nice try Jackson, but you couldn’t unpretty Katie even if you took a blow torch to her face. That’s what paper bags were invented for.

After driving Katie’s features into the canvas Jackson rises to his feet and taunts the crowd. He crouches down and flexes his biceps to high pitched screams from the female audience and roars of approval from the male onlookers. All the while off to his side Orlando is crawling into a corner where Johnny reaches over the ropes and slaps his shoulder.

The Team Leader tags himself in, rushes across the ring and drops into a lateral press on the laid out Steward.

Mayne: Don’t tell me Kingdom is going to get the win, of all the people…..

The referee slaps the canvas and Jackson is finally alerted to the pin going on behind him. He turns around and spots Kingdom on top of Katie, capitalizing on his hard-work.

1

2

Johnny’s ankle is grabbed from the outside of the ring and he’s pulled off of the lateral press by Ace.

Billy: I’m learning to love Ace more and more, in a hetero fashion. I would marry Ace and suck his toes after this match, once again in a strictly hetero sense.

Although tired Kingdom still has the wherewithal to bridge his knees, dragging Ace towards the ring and then wedging his feet straight to his sternum. He now kicks off with all his leg strength, shooting Marshall off into the barricade. He cracks spine first against the steel and then falls to his seat, every bone in his body almost shattered due to the impact.

He remains in this seated position just long enough for AWOL to come charging in and delivering the Olay kick. His boot mashes Marshall’s features, sandwiching it between his wide foot and the steel of the barricade.

Mayne: Why must the Empire direct so much of their attack on the Five Star Society’s faces. How are these guys going to go on as successful shampoo spokespeople after their wrestling careers are over?

An “AWOL” chant graces the Congress Theater and reverberates from the walls. The fans are greatly enjoying this switch in momentum as the Empire seems to have things well in hand. Kingdom reaches his feet with the aid of the ropes while behind his back Jackson is playing a supporting role. He grabs the steel chair that Robin introduced into the ring earlier and swings it at Christian the moment he hopped to the apron. Christian jumps back, Adams keeping him out of the ring.

He staves off everyone long enough for the Team Leader to grab the picture of perfection, Katie by her hair and drag her head into a front chancery.

Billy: I swear if we see the Exodus Finale I’m going to shit a brick.

The fans know exactly what Kingdom has in store for Katie, who is like jello in his arms at this point. They stand in anticipation of seeing the Exodus Finale when Jackson suddenly spins around and slams the steel chair directly between Kingdom’s eyes.

Mayne: WHOA! Am I tripping or did God himself just answer my prayer?

The energy has been sucked out of the crowd like plugs were hooked into them. Their faces are a picture of absolute shock as Jackson stands over Kingdom. The dented chair remains in Adams’ hand as he stands over the Team Leader, the very individual he surprised with this calculated assault.

Billy: I’m thankful, but I have to ask, why?

Mayne is almost as conflicted as the breathless audience. He, along with the thousands watching, have the same question on their minds. Jackson supplies only a hint of his explanation as he crouches towards Johnny and mumbles a short, but poignant statement.

Adams: I’ve been waiting over three years to do that.

Clearly Adams has not forgotten when Kingdom took a chair to his skull several years ago upon betraying every member of the Empire. His bittersweet revenge has finally come, and Jackson takes great delight in it. With the crowd booing his name and wanting to burn him in effigy, Adams stands tall, a smirk finding its way to his face. The grin is quickly removed however when he turns and spots AWOL standing in the ring behind him.

Billy: Although I’m now Jackson Adams’ number one fan again, I think AWOL is on an extremely different end of the spectrum.

Jackson looks between AWOL’s face and the chair in his hand before trying to smooth things over.

Jackson: Hey, relax big man, you knew he had that coming…..

AWOL isn’t interested in an explanation, needing absolutely zero incentive to deliver a sternum crushing chop across Jackson’s chest. Adams collapses to the canvas but quickly rolls to his feet where he’s nailed with a straight headbunt that takes JA back down to the canvas.

Billy: Now Adams and AWOL fighting amongst each other. This can only benefit the Five Star Society.

Anger explodes within AWOL, who has lost all control of his emotions. The Singapore cane shot from last week, coupled with Jackson’s assault on Kingdom with the chair sends AWOL spiraling out of control. Adams has rolled to the outside of the ring, surprisingly landing on his feet and now trying to stabilize himself. This proves to be a costly mistake, because his upright base puts him in perfect position for AWOL’s twisting dive over the top rope.

He crashes straight into Jackson’s shoulder as both men topple to the mats in a heap.

Mayne: That’s right boys, fight it out, get all those frustrations out of your system. We don’t mind.

Jackson is pulled to his feet and struck across the jaw with a bare knuckle blow from the Big Crazy Bastard. Surprisingly Adams is not putting up a fight as he turns away from his monstrous rival and limps up the ramp. AWOL is going right after him though, delivering a forearm to his upper back as the two continue to brawl their way to the backstage area.

This leaves Kingdom and Orlando entirely on their own in the ring. Scratch that, Cruze is currently outside of it waging war with Christian. Savior has snuck in behind Cruze, spun him around, taken him by the wrist and is now shooting him off into the barricade. Cruze counters however and instead sends Savior spiraling into the steel. He bounces off of it and then collapses to the mats.

Meanwhile, inside of the ring things have only gotten worse for Kingdom because Porno Lad is on the verge of becoming the legal man. He leaps to the apron and screams frantically for Katie. The aching Steward crawls across the ring, and with her sight still impaired reaches out, trying to slap one of four palms swaying back and forth in front of her face. She finally hits the actual hand of Porno Lad, bringing the Five Star Society member into the match.

He throws himself on top of Kingdom and hooks both legs, feeling victory is well within his grasp, especially after that brain scrambling chair shot.

Billy: Porno Lad’s got it, he’s got the win. The Five Star Society on the verge of their single biggest victory. Break out the confetti and the Lionel Richey albums, cause it’s time to dance on the ceilings.

Referee Wright falls into position, his back turned to the chair shot from Adams and the subsequent brawl between partners. Once again he spins around to face the action conveniently in the nick of time. He hits the canvas with his palm, drawing the match to an emphatic close.

1

2

3!

The Five Star Society’s campaign of terror has supplied them with their biggest….NO….Kingdom kicked out.

Mayne: MWAH!!

The crowd is going absolutely nuts as Johnny just stole victory straight from the clutches of the Original Prankster. Porno Lad is seated on the canvas, cheat heaving, eyes ripping out of his sockets. Even he can’t believe that he came so close to a win only to ultimately be thwarted by the Team Leader.

Billy: Don’t let this derail you, Porno Lad. Don’t let it stick in your head, get back to your original strategy.

Kingdom may have kicked out but that doesn’t mean he has anymore fight left in his tank. Porno Lad realizes this, which would explain why he’s reached his feet and is crouched in anticipation of delivering the dreaded Epic Fail.

Mayne: There we go.

A heightened air of suspense hangs over the ring as Porno Lad stomps his foot several times, preparing to unleash the spinning superkick that has picked him up wins against absolutely everyone he’s faced. Johnny rolls to his side, beginning to stand up even if his legs don’t have enough juice to keep him standing.

Although the crowd should be in a full on panic at the thought of a Porno Lad victory, they’re surprisingly jovial, and for one reason. Leaping over the barricade, removing a t-shirt and a neck-brace is HURSE!

Billy: Hey, hey, hey, ref look out! He’s not supposed to be in this match, he’s not medically cleared to wrestle.

Hurse slides into the ring behind an unsuspecting Porno Lad and then grabs him by the shoulder. The Prankster is spun around, his eyes widening at the sight of the man he thought he had put out to pasture. Before he can respond, still paralyzed by shock, Hurse kicks him to the gut, doubles him over and hooks both arms. He now leaps into the air, planting Porno Lad face first into the canvas with the Lysol Injection, AKA the pedigree.

Mayne: Disqualify the Empire, disqualify them RIGHT NOW!

It’s obvious that the official isn’t on Billy Mayne’s payroll because he’s actually letting this go. Clearly Wright believes that since Hurse was originally removed from this match due to injury, but is showing that he’s physically good to go now he’s allowing this match to continue.

Billy: Are all these referee’s picked out of a line in front of the Methadone clinic?

Hurse approaches Kingdom, grabs his long time friend by the wrist and pulls him towards the Empire corner. He slips through the ropes and then reaches over them, slapping Johnny’s shoulder in order to make himself the legal man. The Master of Control looks like he is not limited by any type of injury as he ascends to the top rope.

Down below Porno Lad is still trying to stand up, his face crushed by the pedigree.

Billy: Don’t stand up Porno Lad, you don’t have to get it up every time.

Instinctively Porno Lad stands up although he has a lot of trouble remaining on his feet. He slowly turns towards the corner where Hurse is standing, tuning out the rejoicing fans. He has no idea what is waiting for him as Hurse takes flight, catching tremendous air and sailing right into a crossbody block.

His target is suddenly shoved aside though, Porno Lad being pushed down and Ace assuming his partner’s position. It’s Marshall who now suffers the crossbody, Hurse crashing into him.

Mayne: Ohhh, Marshall bit the bullet on that one and saved his partner.

Hurse kneels on the canvas, glaring down at the now motionless Ace and shrugging his shoulders. As long as his maneuver connected he doesn’t care who suffered from it.

The only thing Hurse is concerned with is winning this match on his team’s behalf, as well as avenging the career shortening, perhaps, ENDING, injury inflicted on him by the Five Star Society. He reaches his feet, adrenaline surging, feeding him with the will to vanquish Porno Lad once and for all. That’s when from the corner of his eye he catches a glimpse of Savior climbing back up onto the apron after having gouged the eyes of the Icon. He stands up just as Hurse rushes at the ropes running perpendicular to the ones he’s standing on the opposite side of.

Hurse springs from the middle cable, twists and dropkicks Savior right to the face, knocking him from the apron back down to the mats. After dishing out a small serving of retribution on one of the men who injured him his focus shifts to the other, a certain Porno Lad trying desperately to reach his feet.

He grabs a handful of the Prankster’s hair and pulls him away from the ropes, twisting Porno Lad around and wrapping an arm around his neck. Porno Lad can barely stand as Hurse rushes at the nearby turnbuckle and steps up it, on the verge of flipping back into his version of the Contra Code. The fans joy turns quickly to horror as Porno Lad counters the Disinfectant into a leaping reverse neckbreaker, yanking Hurse down from the top rope into the move.

Billy: CELINE DION!

Hurse hits the canvas across the back of his head and his already fractured neck, causing him to convulse like he were just hit with shock paddles straight to the heart.

Mayne: Porno Lad counters with one of the most sickening reversals I’ve ever seen right on that injured neck.

Hurse’s eyes have rolled to the back of his head, passing out from the sheer pain and the possibly brain damage inflicted by that reverse neckbreaker.

Porno Lad, who’s body has been thrown around, bludgeoned, beaten and battered throughout this extremely competitive match now rolls towards the center of the ring. He rests on his elbows and knees, watching Hurse who by no control of his own is slowly ascending towards his feet.

Hurse looks shell-shocked, eyes glossed over, drool seeping from the corner of his mouth, for all intensive purposes he’s dead to the world. The fans are pleading with Porno Lad to make this merciful, to just pin Hurse instead of prolonging his agony. They cover their mouths and almost weep at the sight of Hurse, fractured neck and all rising to his feet and stumbling around incoherently.

The Prankster licks his lips, shakes his head and finally rises to his feet before delivering the Epic Fail. His spinning kick nails Hurse right between the eyes and puts him on his back.

Billy: Epic Fail, yay, YEAH!

With Hurse down Porno Lad takes a moment to give the fans an “up yours” taunt and then fall into the cover. The leg is hooked and the remorseless Prankster looks to secure the victory.

Orlando finally acknowledges what’s going on in the ring, turning and spotting the pending three count. He tries to intervene only for Katie to rush across the apron, leap off and land right on top of his shoulders. She twists around and sends Cruze flying into the barrier with a hurricarana off the apron.

1

2

Billy: This is better than a three way with the Olsen Twins.

3

The fans shrill squeals are not enough to snap Hurse out of it and make him aware that he was being pinned. Porno Lad’s pinfall goes undeterred, the Original Prankster picking up perhaps the biggest win of his IWC career.

Mayne: They did it, yes, yes, YEEES, I’m having the male equivalent of an orgasm right now.

The distraught audience watches with jaws dropped and heads sunken. Nobody believes it, thinking their seeing some type of hallucination as Porno Lad is assisted to his feet by Marshall and his arm is raised towards the heavens. Even Porno Lad cannot believe what he’s hearing as Ace supports him in this victorious pose.

Billy: The Empire has been conquered thanks to the sheer superiority of the Five Star Society.

A grin that can simply be described as diabolical has found its way to Porno Lad’s face. Christian slips into the ring at this point, clapping his hands despite his wounded shoulder and Katie is assisted by Brooks into the squared circle so they too can join in the celebration.

Mayne: Behold a TRUE Empire ladies and gentlemen. The Five Star Society came, saw, conquered.

The quivering Hurse lies on the canvas, his neck beyond repair at this point. It is of no concern to the triumphant Five Star Society, the victors standing shoulder to shoulder, arms raised in victory.

Billy: This is such a beautiful moment….I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.

Kingdom, who has finally regained some of his faculties, sits up on the apron, glaring through the ropes into the ring. His mouth hangs open and his head slowly shakes, in disbelief over what he’s seeing. Orlando shares Johnny’s sentiment, using the apron to aid him as he glares into the ring and watches the celebration continue. Smiles dawn the faces of the Five Star Society, who have done what NOBODY expected them to by defeating the most dominant stable in IWC history.

THE LONG WAIT

A cigarette extends from Michelle’s lips, pulling it away as she inhales sensually. Everything seems to be right in the world for young Mrs. Blacker; she looks completely tranquil, almost mellow. Some color has even returned to her once pale flesh, and oddly, strangely, as terrifying as it sounds, a grin actually stretches across her face.

Michelle: Hello all, it’s me again, and boy do I have some news for you.

She takes another puff from the cigarette while lifting the microphone to her lips, the standard IWC interview set revealed behind her.

Blacker: I just got a very up close and personal exclusive with Fox Arcane if you catch my drift, and now I’m here to rate him on the bone-ability scale.

Jackson: No, no your not.

Even the intrusion of a sweaty Jackson Adams is not enough to ruin Michelle’s buzz. Her smile persists as Adams storms into the camera’s frame full of piss and vinegar. Without so much as a warning he snatches the microphone out of Michelle’s hands and forces her aside so that the camera is positioned on him and him alone.

Adams: I’ve got something to say and EVERYONE needs to hear it.

JA’s tone is intense as are his deep breaths, drawing focus to every of his poignant words.

Adams: I know some of you may be upset, that you might not understand why, why I took a chair to Kingdom’s skull? That’s fine, you have every right to be angry with me, and I accept your anger. But I’m not the villain here. I’m not some generic comic book baddy who beat up Kingdom just because he’s the “hero.” And I didn’t take that chair to his skull simply because I was hoping to make a statement, or to get a boost in popularity. I’m already popular; I’m already the first name that pops into every fan’s head when they think “I-W-C.” No, what I did, why I struck Kingdom with that chair, it was all motivated by one thing, “revenge!”

It troubles Jackson to even think about to the moment, many years ago, that inspired his drastic actions taken against Kingdom tonight.

Jackson: Three years ago I was left lying inside of a steel cage thanks to Johnny Kingdom, when he double crossed everyone in the Empire. Ever since that day, I’ve been waiting, I’ve been dying for the opportunity to get some payback, and tonight, this eight man tag presented me with the PERFECT opportune…..hey, hey now…

Adams stops speaking the moment he hears the deep breaths of AWOL. The Spectacular One turns and grabs Michelle by the bicep, pulling her in front of him as AWOL makes his way down the corridor.

Adams: It was nothing personal, Anthony. It was nothing personal at all. Just stay back and let me explain man.

AWOL: That doesn’t sound like fun.

Jackson leaves Michelle in AWOL’s path then backs up, throwing other things down to impede the Big Crazy Bastard. AWOL nudges Blacker aside, who is still grinning, and steps over the various objects scattered across the ground, rather it be a table, or some chairs.

Adams: Come on man, you know he had it coming, just back off, BACK OFF.

Adams grabs a stagehand who was pressed against a wall watching this whole scene unfold. He throws the pimply youth at AWOL only to watch him get shoved hard to the floor.

Jackson: I don’t want to fight you.

AWOL: Too bad.

AWOL continues after Jackson as the two make their way down the corridor.

STRANGE BEDFELLOWS

An aggravated Jon Rich moves down a long hallway, gripping at the back of his neck. His mumbles are indecipherable, which would probably be best for the more adolescent, easily influenced viewers. Clearly he’s affected by his earlier loss where victory seemed within his clutches only to slip through his fingers. Despite his loss and the pressure he’s putting on himself, Jon takes solace in knowing that he’ll find some solitude in his lockeroom. He stops just outside of it while reaching for the doorknob.

Jon: Uhhhh….

Rich’s eyes are suddenly drawn to the rose petals scattered across the floor at the base of his lockeroom door. With a sigh he steps into his dressing room, expecting the worse. His expectations were right on the money.

Rich: What are you doing here?

Standing in a skimpy pink nighty is none other than Katelyn Parkwood. She is currently blowing out a lit match, one she used to ignite a candle. A number of candles are strewn all around Jon’s lockeroom, only enhancing the mood. She turns with a huge smile on her face, her cheeks becoming quite rosy.

Katelyn: I was just getting things ready for our little romp.

She removes the butterfly clip from her hair, letting it fall down across her shoulders and upper back.

Jon: Little romp? What the hell are you talking about?

Katelyn: Oh don’t be coy, Richy-poo.

Jon: Iiiii’m noooot.

Katelyn: Shush, shush, shush.

Her finger is pressed to Jon’s lips before quickly being slapped away.

Katelyn: You just let momma take care of you.

She reaches down for his tights only to have her arms grabbed and forced to her sides.

Jon: Are you on medication?

Katelyn: No silly. The only drug I need is a little Jon Rich to get me going in the mornings.

Jon: Great, on top of being depressed now I’m officially freaked out as well.

Katelyn: I know I let you down earlier, Johnny-Jon-Jon-Jon, but I want to make it up to you. Let me take care of my boyfriend.

Her fingers reach out for his abs but Jon forces her back once again.

Katelyn: What’s wrong with you? You act like you don’t even want to get nasty.

Rich: Because I don’t.

Katelyn’s jaw drops.

Katelyn: Wha….why not?

Jon: Let’s see, for starters your batshit crazy, and secondly, we’re NOT a couple. I wouldn’t touch you even if I had a whole jar of penicillin.

Katelyn: So in other words your trying to tell me that you don’t like my nighty?

Rich’s tongue is stricken with a brief bout of paralysis.

Rich: Did you not just hear a word I said?

Katelyn: Of course I did, and I have no problem with you going anal.

Jon: That’s not even close to what I said. Listen, just stop and listen.

She listens in between reaching out for his tights, once again having her hands shoved aside.

Rich: Stop touching me, stop calling me, and stop following me around. There is NOTHING between us, other than what you’ve dreamt up in your head. Now stay away from me.

He quickly grabs his bag, which he luckily already had packed and storms out of the lockeroom, fending off Katelyn’s hands in the process. Once he’s departed the dressing room Katelyn begins to fan herself off.

Katelyn: I love it when they play hard to get.

SIMON CAGERO © VS. RIGGS
TABLES ARE LEGAL

When the show returns to the interior of the Congress Theater the camera finds itself passing over some tables stacked against the barrier. This all draws attention to the pending confrontation.

Billy: Well, we’ve reached that point in the show, the grand denouement to 2009, and for some reason, God only knows why, the IWC staff have chosen to ruin this moment by saddling me with some inexperienced co-commentator.

Max Craven: Hiiii everyone, long time no see. Max is back to ensure everyone remains conscious throughout this match.

Mayne: I hate you already.

Craven: The feeling is more than mutual.

The lights suddenly go out, and hundreds of camera flashes go off in the crowd. Slowly the stage area starts filling up with rolling fog, The "Sacrament" by HIM slowly begins to play as purple lights and lazers fill the entrance area. Out of nowhere the figure of Riggs appears out of the fog, he stands on the entrance way for a few seconds. He slowly makes his way to the ring, as the purple lights dance behind him. He rolls under the bottom rope and makes his way to the far corner. He then slumps into the turnbuckle and stares across the ring with his cold dead stare.

Billy: The Painted One, the Painted Warrior, the most diabolical, destructive, genuinely frightening individual on the roster. Tonight he walks in as challenger but he may very well leave as a double champion.

Craven: Unfortunately that is a very real possibility, and frankly the thought of Riggs holding the World Title makes me wake up in cold sweats.

Mayne: Then your life is going to one prolonged nightmare, because if this stipulation favors anyone at all, it’s Riggs. He’s competed in more Tables Are Legal matches than anybody, ANYONE on the entire IWC roster.

Max: Yeah, but has he actually won any of them?

Billy: Erm….

Craven: I believe the words your looking for are, “good point Max, I’m a blithering idiot who still lives with his parents.”

Mayne: Grandparents actually.

Riggs waits in the corner of the ring, crouched in silent anticipation of a man he’s waited sooo long to face, a man who has victimized him verbally and physically since his return to the IWC roster. The wait is over the moment that Simon Cagero’s entrance music hits the PA system and the crowd leaps from their seats. P>Suddenly, the lights dim down, and are replaced with a dark red. The words "Wasted" Appear on the video tron as it flickers to life, as "Pardon Me" by Staind starts to play.

I'm One Step
From A Breakdown
Two Steps From
Being Safe
Just Try To
See This Through
I'm Three Steps
From This Nightmare
And Four Steps
From The Door
The Rest Is
Up To You

"LAAAAAADIIIIEEEESSSS AND GENTLEMEN!"

A voice comes over the music, as the crowd gets to their feet. Simon Cagero walks out from the backstage, holding a microphone and the World Championship.

"ARE WE READY?!"

He belts out into the microphone, before looking around to all the fans

"To get..."

The smile on his face broadens, as all the lights dim down.

"A LITTLE WASTED?!"

The rampway lights up with a string of pyro that spells out 'W-A-S-T-E-D" Simon looks around, before starting his way down to the ring

Pardon Me While I
Just Turn My Back
And Walk Away
Pardon Me If I
Can't Listen
To The Things
You Say

Pardon Me If I
Can't Fake This
While You Still Believe
Pardon Me

To the apron leaps Cagero with a smile on his face and his newly won title held high above his head.

Mayne: I really, reeeeallly hope Simon doesn’t have an HMO.

Max: Actually that’s the only type of medical insurance the IWC could afford to give us.

Billy: Yeah, sadly I know this, and I also know that Cagero is going to need one after this match.

Craven: Yes, you’ve redundantly covered this already, Billy. Let’s say something interesting now. I think Simon is riding a killer wave of momentum and although he may have been disqualified against Johnny Kingdom last week he’s still got that adrenaline surging.

Simon enters the ring with a rather stoic expression on his face and the World Title belt dangling over his forearm. His eyes, which were scorched on the last Riot! seem to repaired enough for him to take this challenge here tonight, perhaps his biggest challenge since returning to the IWC.

Craven: This has been building ever since Cagero made his comeback here to the IWC little over six months ago. We’ve all been forced to watch he and Riggs trade insults and trade attacks back and forth. It ends here, it ends tonight.

Billy: Did you take a commentary lesson from Mark Comeau?

Max: Did you take one from Bobby Heenan, or more accurately the poor man’s Bobby Heenan, Mark Madden?

The excitement and energy in the stands is off the charts and surging all throughout the Manhattan Center. Simon looks down at the title glistening and hanging from his palm, realizing that he shall jeopardize it here tonight. Riggs slowly steps from his comfort zone and encroaches the caged animal before him. That’s when the title drops from Cagero’s palm and the latch on the cage is broken, he rushes forward and slams his fist directly into the jaw of his Painted foe.

Mayne: Here we go, the violence has commenced and boy should this is getting juicy in a heart-beat.

Although stunned by the rapid fire shots from the champ, Riggs responds with blows of his own. Both men trade right hands back and forth, looking to get that all important opening advantage. Finally Simon stops with the fisticuffs and takes a more controlled approach, grabbing Riggs by the ropes and firing him off into the ropes.

Riggs hits the cables but then reaches back, wrapping his arms around them to keep from falling victim to the cocked fist of his rival. Simon drops his fist and comes charging in only to have Riggs side step him, catch the back of his head and send him flying through the ropes.

Simon grabs the middle rope though as he travels through them, turning and wedging his feet to the corner of the apron. He leans back with knees bent, threatening to go tumbling off of the apron to the outside mats. Riggs doesn’t realize what’s happened until he turns around and spots the crouched champion almost taunting him from the apron. In a fit the challenger rushes in only for Cagero to lunge through the ropes shoulder first, intent on driving it into his mid-section.

Riggs has other ideas though, side stepping Simon just before his shoulder could impact the Painted Warrior’s mid-section. He then leaps to the middle rope just off to the side of the champion, twists in mid-air upon springing off and drops a leg right across the back of his head.

Simon is put throat first into the middle cable, causing his head to snap back and his body to go flying to the outside mats.

Max: Seems after all their run ins over the past couple of months that these two have learned a lot about one another’s styles. It’s good to see someone actually learning from experience. You’ve been doing this how long, Billy, like five years, and your still the most God awful Jessie Ventura rip off ever.

Billy: Ventura!?! I would have killed to have been in Predator, but no, I have nothing in common with Ventura.

Craven: Exactly, he had mic skills.

Simon collapses to the mats surprisingly landing on his feet in the process. His legs are unable to support him, causing the Motherfucker to go tumbling into the barricade. The collision bothers his ribs but isn’t enough to take him down, now using the barrier as a crutch in which to stabilize himself.

His arm dangles over into the front row, tapping a chair that has wisely been vacated by a fan a little too uncomfortable with being so close to the action. Riggs stands triumphant in the ring now that he’s cleared Cagero of it, his hands wrapping around the top rope.

Max: Riggs about to take an ill-advised leap.

Riggs goes sailing over the ropes and flying with a crossbody right in Simon’s direction. He connects, not with Cagero, but the steel chair flung from his hands. The steel wraps around Riggs’ face and knocks him out of the air, sending him plummeting into the mats instead of into the World Champion.

Billy: RED WHITE AND BLUE!

Craven: Yes, those are going to be all the colors of Riggs’ face after that nasty chair shot. Told Riggs it was ill-advised.

The crowd gets a kick out of what they just witnessed, Simon altering Riggs’ flight trajectory with some airborne debris. The steel thudding off of his skull combined with the resulting spill to the mats leaves Riggs completely sprawled across his back, chest heaving and eyes blinking out of synchronism.

Cagero steps away from the turnbuckle post that was supporting him and approaches the very chair that came to his aid moments ago. He picks it up and watches Riggs slowly reach his seat. The Painted Warrior sits on the mats for only a second before the chair goes flying into his face for a second time, with even more force than before.

Billy: Another flying chair. This is worse than those flying monkeys from the Wizard of Oz.

Max: How? How is this worse than flying monkeys? Explain what connection there is between the chair and the monkeys in the Wizard of Oz. EXPLAIN.

Billy: I don’t know, they both…..fly.

Craven: You are such a waste of oxygen.

Riggs is sprawled across his back, body quivering after two disturbingly stiff chair shots. Cagero continues to indulge his homicidal urges by picking up the already warped chair, approaching the turnbuckle post he was just leaning on and combining the two to form an all powerful weapon. The chair is wedged between the apron and the bottom rope while being supported by the post.

After arranging the weapon in a bad position Simon turns his focus back to the Painted Warrior. Somehow Riggs is already getting to his feet with the use of the apron before his wrist is grabbed and he’s shot off into the steel chair. Riggs barrels towards it and collides face first into the seat, sending him crashing to the mats forcefully.

Mayne: Simon sure knows how to use those chairs.

Max: My associate Rick-Rohl probably showed him. Rick’s done a lot of provocative dances around chairs before.

Billy: I sincerely hope you weren’t watching.

Clear by the look in Riggs’ eyes he was not prepared for the fiery passion in Cagero, his vigor and determination not to win but to inflict pain. Simon returns to his battered nemesis, dragging him along to his feet, delivering a headbunt that almost takes him right back down. Ultimately though he rolls right back into the ring where he lays barely conscious. He seems to have lost all notion of the match he’s participating in, now lost in the spotlights shinning down from the scaffolding.

After those brutal blows from the chair Simon knows that he’s got the challenger right where he wants him. That’s why he takes some time to bring out the very first table in this match. He removes it from the barricade and then uses that very same barrier to position it upon.

Mayne: Ohhh great, something tells me we’re going to owe a huge Home Depot bill by the time this is over.

Max: Yes, but chances are we’ll just stiff them on the check.

Billy: Heh…..you just said “stiff”……hahahaha.

Craven: It’s pretty sad when I’m the most mature person out here.

The table is placed diagonally and supported in the corner of two converging barricades. Some of the fans actually assist Cagero in getting it stable before the World Champion turns his attention back to the prone Riggs. With great speed Simon shoots up the turnbuckle, scaling all the way to the top rope where he prepares for what should be a dazzling dive. The fans cheer him on, eagerly waiting to see Simon go high risk.

Unfortunately the fans and Simon will have to wait because Riggs wisely rolls out of harm’s way then crawls into the corner farthest from his opposition.

Billy: Even when the man is near comatose he still has the gumption to get the hell out of the way.

Cagero is slightly annoyed, prompting him to jump off of the turnbuckle and storm towards his opponent seated in the far corner. That’s before his belt is grabbed and Riggs falls back, sending Simon flying face first into the second turnbuckle pad. He hits the corner hard and then twists so that he’s in the very position his opponent was just seconds ago.

Simon grabs his face and eye, making sure they’re not already swelling. He is momentarily too burdened by his face first impact with the corner to realize what the challenger is doing. The very chair that Riggs tasted moments ago is pulled out from between the apron and the bottom rope and now gripped in the hands of the Painted Warrior.

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, body acting on mere spasm, he charges across the ring and begins to leap for a dropkick aided by the steel only to stop himself. Cagero is smart enough to avoid disaster as well, rolling to the apron to avoid the deadly kick.

Riggs quickly sets the chair up and goes rushing into the opposite ropes. The World Champion, thankful that he wasn’t given a taste of his own medicine, stands up on the apron just as Riggs springs off of the chair and dropkicks him to the shoulder. A stunned Cagero flies off of the apron and goes crashing sternum first right into the barricade. The impact is heinous enough to crack Simon’s chest bone but somehow he remains upright, turning towards the ring just in time to watch Riggs sailing over and delivering a crossbody block that sends them both to the mats.

Billy: And he finally hits the crossbody he went for earlier.

Max: I guess if you try something enough eventually you’re bound to succeed. Unless your talking about Billy and his attempts to be a good commentator.

Although aching Simon still has the gumption to crawl away from the challenger, wisely trying to put some distance between he and Riggs. He finds his way to the barricade, where he grabs the steel and uses it to prop himself up. He only makes it to his seat, back turned towards the barrier before Riggs rushes in, driving his knee directly into Cagero’s face.

Simon is nailed with an inedible sandwich, and a very painful one to boot, his face the meat in a steel/knee BLT. This isn’t his last introduction to the barrier however, as Riggs takes him by the hair, forces him up to his feet and then with legs intertwined drops back into a Russian Leg Sweep that forces Cagero’s spine into the barricade.

Max: Well if Riggs doesn’t beat Cagero he sure has taken years off of his life with moves like that.

Cagero collapses to the mats, supported by his palms and his knees. His back and his skull have to be killing him, but he hasn’t even endured half of Riggs’ planned onslaught. The Challenger gives the fans rooting for Simon a chilling glare that causes them to shut up and do so in a hurry. Riggs’ hand then finds its way into the stylish hair of the World Title holder, forcing him up to his feet only to leap into the air and drag him down face first into the mats. The one handed bulldog plants Cagero’s forehead into the thin matting and sends his body rolling back into the barrier.

Billy: Man, Riggs is just having his way with Cagero.

Max: Thanks for just putting that utterly disgusting and traumatizing image in my head.

Mayne: That’s what I’m good at.

Max: Yes, your as creepy as one of those animatronic clowns waving outside of a Pharmacy.

Billy: Great, now I’m going to have nightmares.

With Riggs secure in the fact that Cagero has been vanquished he turns his focus to the ring, or more accurately the objects gathered beneath it. He reaches under the squared circle where he finds a table, one that he intends on putting to very good use. The wood slides under the ring and Riggs follows right along behind it. He positions the table mere inches from a turnbuckle, perhaps giving the fans a clue of his intentions.

The Painted Warrior then rolls out of the ring to add in another element, Simon Cagero. He takes the bangs of the World Champion and prepares to finish his diabolical plot, rolling him into the ring. The Challenger follows, yet makes the mistake of being too over confident, not rushing in after his fallen foe. He steps through the ropes into the squared circle and grips at Simon’s hair long enough to yank him to his feet and deliver a headbunt that sends him stumbling back into the table.

Simon falls over the timber, now perfectly placed for the grand finale to Riggs’ masterstroke. The Challenger approaches the turnbuckle and ascends, yet again a little too slowly, towards the top. He reaches the height point and glares down at the table holding a heaping serving of the World Champion.

Billy: Something tells me we’re about to see a senton bomb through the table.

Max: I would guarantee it given Riggs’ sheer predictability.

Once he’s stable on the top rope Riggs runs a finger across his throat, intent on hitting the very move that he’s utilized to put Cagero through wood not once but TWICE. Sadly for the painted challenger a third senton through the table has been avoided by the wildly Cagero.

Simon steps towards Riggs, grabs him by the inner thigh and the neck then throws him off of the turnbuckle, sending him sailing towards the table. Somehow Riggs is able to shift his body weight so that he comes down feet first on the canvas and catches himself against the side of the wood.

Craven: Ohhhh, so close.

Riggs staggers into the table nevertheless, pushing it so that it forms a straight line pointed towards Cagero who is climbing the turnbuckle behind his rival’s back. He may not have sent him through the table, but Cagero is going to find a way to cripple Riggs. To the delight of the masses Simon leaps to the middle rope and springs off, twisting through the air to deliver his vengeance to his prone opponent.

Much like Riggs, Simon underestimated his rival. The Challenger steps out of the way and grabs the edge of the table he was leaning on, throwing it up into the air and causing Simon to crack his face against its hard surface. Simon bounces off of the wood that briefly stands up on one end before falling down to the canvas directly beside the World Champion.

Billy: Oooooh what a thud. Hahahaha.

The crowd groans in much the same fashion as Billy but fail to follow it up with a diabolical chuckle. They are both stunned and mortified at the thought of the damage down to Simon, who isn’t moving on the canvas at this point. Riggs realizes he only has a brief window of opportunity. He grabs the table, realigns it so that it lays perpendicular to the turnbuckle and then grabs Riggs’ hair all the way down to the roots.

Cagero is forced to his feet and forced into the turnbuckle, now being assisted to the top rope.

Mayne: Finally, someone is about to go through that wood. Seems like we’ve been waiting an eternity.

With Simon seated on the top rope and the turnbuckle positioned in the perfect spot, Riggs climbs the corner, reaching the middle rope and then taking Cagero’s neck into his arm. He glances over his shoulder to ensure the distance is proper to put Simon through the wood via a superplex. His focus returns to Cagero a fraction of a second too late to avoid the headbunt that connects to his eye. The blow to his orbital socket knocks Riggs from the turnbuckle, landing on his feet across the canvas and then staggering back into the table.

He can’t help but to fall over it, now stretched across the oh so dangerous timber. Before the Painted Warrior realizes where he is and how he’s positioned, Simon takes flight, flipping through the air and crashing spine first directly through Riggs and the table.

Billy: Told ya we see a senton bomb! I’m always right.

Max: Except when your not, which is about 99.9% of the time.

A loud ruckus shakes the Congress Theater, the crowd dazzled by the senton bomb which has been symbolically hit by Cagero. After giving Riggs a taste of his own medicine, Simon is slow to capitalize. His muscles hurt, his body quivering from both inflicted and self inflicted trauma. In spite of it he crawls right into the lateral press, only possessing the strength to hook one leg.

The crowd is screaming, thinking that Riggs has been finished off justly by the very move he’s tormented Simon with over the past few Riots!. They prepare for a celebration as the official slips in and makes the count.

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2

NYOOOO! Riggs’ arm leaps from the broken shards of wood and Simon is sent rolling across the canvas as a result.

Mayne: Yeee…wait, no, not enough to put Riggs away apparently. This guy probably gets off on pain just like his equally as sick partner, Psycho.

Max: Those two really need some therapy, or they need to listen to Yani, anything that will soothe them.

Cagero, fueled by raw emotion at this point, rises to his feet sweeps the air with his arms and calls for the end. Riggs is powerless to stop his opponent as he’s yanked to an upright base, taken around the neck and ultimately planted face first into the ring with that sickening Break the Silence.

Max: He hits the spinning downward spiral and this match looks to come to a mercifully short conclusion.

Billy: Thank heavens. See you in the showers?

Craven: Wow, just wow, there are so many things wrong with that sentence I don’t even know where to begin.

Shortly after having his neck fractured and skull busted from the impact of the Break the Silence, Riggs coasts to his back where his leg is hooked and Simon throws his spine on top of his sternum.

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2

Even with the crowd counting along Simon doesn’t obtain the three, Riggs kicking out right before he could be defeated.

Mayne: Another kick out, and I already had a bar of soap in my hand.

Max: Your seriously starting to worry me.

With some of the paint broken from his face thanks in large part to the impact of the Break the Silence, Riggs lays in a prone, motionless position. This leaves Simon to do as he wishes, and right now his desire is to introduce yet another table into this already twisted environment of broken wood.

After taking yet another of the tables positioned against the barricade Simon slings it to the apron and shoves it under the ropes.

Craven: And we get ANOTHER table.

Billy: I think the IWC does most of it’s shopping in bulk.

Simon most hot on the heels of the table, taking it into his palms and positioning it in a diagonal fashion against a turnbuckle. Once he has the wood slanted from the corner post the Champion directs focus back to his mangled opponent. Riggs seemingly has exhausted what he had left in his tank, the many collisions he’s suffered, whether they be with table or chair, leave him to the mercy of the Motherfucker.

There is no wasted movement from the Champ, who already is leading his traumatized opponent to his feet and gripping him by the wrist. A hearty handful of hair is gripped in Simon’s fingers, giving him just the hold he needs to stabilize his wobbly rival.

With every fiber of his being, all his strength, the power only months of blindside attacks and table antics can fuel, Simon Irish whips Riggs right into the wood. Riggs sails into the table in what may be his final voyage. Before his trip can end in disaster Riggs shocks the viewing world with a display of both perfect timing and dazzling athletics. He steps up the table like he were walking a staircase then flips back landing directly on his feet.

Before either the crowd or the commentators can react Simon rushes in only to be nailed to the top of the head with a Pele kick.

Mayne: Are you friggin kidding me!?!

Craven: And here I thought I was agile.

Billy: Back flip from the table, followed by a back flip kick, wicked, wicked stuff.

Max: Why Billy, am I mistaken, or are you actually enjoying this?

Mayne: How dare you make such an insinuation. I hate both these guys almost as much as I hate your movies.

Craven: Then why do you buy so many of them?

Billy: I never said I was going to stop watching them.

The crowd is thumping the steel plates of the barrier with their palms and erupting with elation. After a night of spectacular action they choose not to express their utter euphoria. The exciting night may be coming to a close, or at least that’s what Riggs has planned. His head may be in splitting agony, but he still has the wherewithal to reach his feet and take Cagero by the wrist. Simon is led to his feet and kicked square to the gut.

This only worsens Simon’s predicament because now Riggs, employing his last visage of strength, hoists Cagero up to his shoulders. He turns towards the perfectly placed table and goes running, intent on not only putting Simon through the wood but actually POWERBOMBING him into it.

Before Cagero can suffer the neck cracking whiplash he saves his title but more importantly himself. He wedges his palms to the top of Riggs’ head and leap frogs from his chest to the canvas behind his Challenger. Riggs spins around with a look of rage brought on by his opponents sheer resiliency.

Cagero gives another demonstration of that very resiliency by leaping into the air, catching Riggs around the neck and dropping back into the Break the Silence. This time, instead of hitting the ring spine first, his back is broken with a uranage back breaker across Riggs’ raised knee.

Billy: Now that’s how you counter a move, Max. You should learn stuff like this, and maybe one day you’ll be in a World Title match.

Max: I would count on me getting a crack at the title sooner than you think.

The back breaker effectively takes the fight out of Simon’s body with the whiplash sending it into a backwards flip. By no cognitive choice of his own Simon lands on his knees, bobbing and weaving back and forth. He finds himself in this suspended state for as long as it takes Riggs to rush in and crush his face with the shinning wizard.

Billy: Hahahaha, how did his knee taste Simon? I don’t think he’ll be coming back for seconds.

Max: Billy, I don’t think there are words that can even begin to describe just how horrid you are. I’ve never wanted to set fire to something more in my life.

Mayne: Strange, my grandmamma told me the same thing last Christmas.

The realization sets in that the title may be well within his grasp. As quick as his body will allow, Riggs crawls into the cover, making the lateral press and hooking the far leg.

Billy: New Cham…..

Craven: Must you make the same assumption during every single pinfall? Has it ever turned out that you were right, even once? You think you would learn your lesson by now.

With the crease of the knee in his hands Riggs goes for the victory over a fallen World Champion.

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2

The ref’s hand comes down to the canvas for a third slap but fails to connect. As soon as Riggs learns of this he rises to his seat and strangely has NO reaction. The Painted Warrior stares off into the ether, showing a clear detachment from any and all emotion. It’s what compels him to rise to his feet and set into motion the plan that will finally lead to Simon’s undoing.

The table that was propped to the turnbuckle is dragged now towards the center of the ring. Once again the Challenger sets up the wood so that it’s well within the range of the corner.

Max: Speaking of people who just haven’t learned their lesson.

Mayne: Is Riggs really so eager to be put through a SECOND table?

Craven: He’s probably gotten use to it at this point.

Riggs surveys the table he has positioned then shakes his head, turning his focus to the outside of the ring. He rolls under the ropes and then looks under the squared circle for yet another dangerous wooden structure to add into this chaotic fray. When he sees that they there are none positioned where he was looking, his attention turns to the crowd.

Max: Where’s he going now?

Billy: He didn’t even bother to look on the opposite side of the ring for tables, I’m sure there are plenty.

Craven: Ahhh, I see now.

Riggs makes his way past the fans, shoving them out of his way as he approaches one of the many entrances built into the stands. The double doors are wide open so the fans can pass through his entrance/exit freely. The table just beyond these open doors was too much for Riggs to pass up.

Max: He’s going after one of those harder tables.

Billy: How’s it harder? Viagra?

Craven: Nooo, its more load bearing. It could probably even hold your ex wife.

Billy: No table has been built that can withstand that weight.

Riggs moves through the crowd and back towards the ring, sliding the table along with him. If it weren’t for the wear and tear of this match his weary muscles would probably move a little quicker. As it stands now he’s struggling to reach the barrier with his table of choice, now turning it so that the wood is slanted, one end propped on top of the barricade, the other positioned against the concrete. It remains in this diagonal base as Riggs tries to develop the strength to lift it up and throw over out of the crowd onto the mats.

His plans are suddenly derailed the moment he sees Simon limping to his feet inside of the ring. Cagero looks out of it, like he’s downed an entire bottle of Ambien. Nevertheless his feet are on the canvas and his legs are supporting him. Perhaps it would have been smarter to stay down considering what his opponent has in store for him.

Riggs shows his devil may cry attitude by backing through the crowd then rushing at the table and stepping up it. He reaches the edge of the wood and the top of the barrier before leaping off and landing on the apron. The wood provided him with just the necessary momentum he needed to make this running leap. Shortly after landing on the apron, Riggs lunges to the top rope and takes flight. He soars straight at Cagero before crashing down directly into the boot of his nemesis.

Max: Superkick!

Riggs is stunned when he sails chin first right into the World Champion’s foot.

Billy: I bet he regrets wasting all that time with that table now.

Craven: Simon is gonna make him regret it.

To the surprise of many, particularly a now kneeling Cagero, Riggs wasn’t taken down by the superkick. Instead he stands on his feet, brain struggling to catch up with his body. Finally, after a delayed response, Riggs staggers back and lands spine first across the surface of the table.

Max: He’s laid out on the table, déjà vu all over again.

Cagero is about to send the fans into a relapse of ohs and awes as he steps past his rival and up the turnbuckle positioned nearby. He climbs the corner with his back turned to a laid out, unresponsive challenger, perhaps about to hit yet another symbolic senton bomb.

The World Champion gets all the way to the top and now begins to precariously adjust his position to face his rival.

Billy: Another senton bomb? Haven’t either of these two guys heard of originality?

Max: I’m pretty sure you’re the last person who should be lecturing others about originality.

The fans and Simon know that the end is near, that while Riggs may have survived one senton through the table, he will surely not survive another. Simon positions himself and is on the verge of taking flight before he looks up and realizes that his plan has went up in smoke. Riggs is now standing on top of the table, blocking any attempt at a second senton bomb.

Despite being thrown a curveball Simon still swings. Just as Riggs balances himself on top of the table Simon leaps from the turnbuckle, catches him around the neck, twists in mid-air and sends the challenger flipping through the air. Riggs flies off of the table, flips forward and plummets spine first into the canvas with a resounding thud.

Billy: WOWZER!

Max: That was unique.

Every fan in attendance is on its feet screaming over that SICK hurricarana from the top rope, catching Riggs, then flipping him to the ring off the top of the table. While both Champion and Challenger may be down the fans are on their feet in a frenzy, overwhelmed by yet another move that defies belief.

Craven: Even I have to admit that these two are setting the bar pretty high when it comes to using these tables in imaginative ways.

Billy: My mind has been blown. Now if only I can find someone who will do the same thing to my penis.

Max: Your barking up the wrong tree here buddy.

Mayne: That’s not…

Craven: It’s okay, Billy, I’m aware how irresistible I am. I don’t hold you at fault, but I would request that you stay at least 1000 yards away from me at all times.

Despite having delivered a move that still has the crowd buzzing, Cagero is unable to follow up. The World Champion is suffering the effects of the pele kick and the shinning wizard, which may have very well scrambled his brain.

But after so many months of attacks, verbal and physical, Cagero isn’t about to let his body stand in the way of finally finishing off one of his greatest rivals. He turns to his knees and crawls towards Riggs, about to end the saga that has captivated the fans throughout much of 2009.

With body ravaged, bones stressed to the point of snapping, and muscles bruised both externally and internally, Cagero throws his arm over Riggs’ sternum and hopes for the best. The referee slips in and hits the canvas while the crowd’s shrill cries cut through the building.

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2

Riggs gets a shoulder up and the cries cease, now replaced with high pitched wails. The fans are both excited and saddened by the kick out by the challenger. Although the fun of the match will continue, the crowd knows that there’s now a greater risk that Simon won’t walk away from it as the Champion.

Billy: Riggs still hanging in there. Normally I would cheer for him to win this match considering what Simon did to Porno Lad last week, but ummm, I just really don’t like clowns. Not since I was traumatized by those 1960’s Ronald McDonald commercials.

Every breath is labored and every movement he makes leaves him in agony, nevertheless Cagero gets up and prepares to end this once and for all. Rather incoherently Cagero grabs Riggs by the hair, forces him up to his feet and delivers a straight right hand between the eyes.

The shot knocks Riggs back and leaves him sprawled across the top of the table for a third time. With opponent positioned now all that is left is for Simon to climb what to him is the equivalent of Mount Everest. Scaling the turnbuckle places extreme stress on his already warn body, but he keeps moving closer and closer to the summit.

Max: And here we go again, back to square one.

Simon reaches the high point, standing on top of the turnbuckle with his back still turned towards Riggs. He has no idea that Riggs not only rolled off of the table but is once again leaping on top of it. He leaps on the turnbuckle then uses it as a prop to launch himself up high into the air.

Riggs catches tremendous height as he soars towards Cagero and hits him in the lower back with a dropkick. The blow sends the World Champion flipping forward, twisting inside out and meeting with a grizzly demise. He goes sailing to the outside of the ring from the top rope and eventually plummets through the table he left stretched from the converging barricades.

Billy: HOOOOOLLLY MACKREL!

Max: And here I thought Susie Moore had the corner marketed on spontaneous outburst.

Simon’s lower back and posterior takes much of the punishment via the plunge through the table, but the back of his neck and head is traumatized once it collides with the thin protective mats beneath it.

Fans: HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT!

Mayne: What they said.

Craven: Riggs set that up pretty nicely, making Cagero pay for leaving that table errantly at ringside.

The fans are swept up into an absolute frenzy thanks to the homicidal depths both champion and challenger have went to in order to secure the World Title. Riggs seems to be feeding off another burst of energy, apparent as he rolls to the outside and stumbles in the direction of a traumatized, vegetative Cagero.

The World Champion’s body remains slanted, lower half still elevated on top of the shattered table broken clean down the middle. His upper half is stretched over the mats, neither side of his body moving nor cooperating with Riggs. He struggles with all the strength that his torn and tattered body will allow. Finally he gets Cagero to his feet and into the ring. Simon rolls towards the table left in the ring and Riggs follows him.

Instead of going for a pin Riggs grabs Simon around a possibly fractured neck, pulls him over to his knees and then hooks both arms. He now backs into a turnbuckle and begins to scale it in reverse. A lifeless, helpless World Champion is pulled up right along with him until both men have reached the second rope.

Billy: What is Riggs doing, oh, no, no, NOOO.

Riggs hoists Simon up and leaps off of the turnbuckle into a double arm DDT planting the World Champion face first through the table.

Max: That hurt.

Mayne: Ya think?

If the crowd wasn’t energetic before now the security staff has a full on riot on their hands. The breathless viewers continue to watch a true spectacle of epic proportions as Simon rolls lifelessly to his back. After going through two tables the fate of his World Heavyweight Title is now academic. Splinters and fragmented chunks of wood fall as debris from Riggs’ body as he turns and drapes his arm over Simon’s chest. The World Title is within his grasp.

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2

Billy: This has got to be it.

3

The Congress Theater nearly explodes once the count has been made official. The referee stands up and confirms what nobody was expecting, that he reached a count of “two.”

Mayne: NO F’N WAY.

Max: Wow. Simon goes through TWO tables in less than a minute and he is still able to kick out and keep hold of his World Title.

Riggs sits up and slowly slips his hands through his hair, realizing that the World Title may have just been lost to him forever. He refuses to acknowledge any nagging self doubt, springing into action to maintain his advantage. He ends up outside of the ring where he once again moves towards the table still slanted from the barricade to the feet of the crowd.

He grabs hold of it and starts to slide the wood over towards the ring. All the while he’s forced to listen to the crowd screaming till their lungs explode, everyone simply amazed by the heroic efforts of Cagero to retain his title. That heorism and determination will truly be put to the test now that Riggs has put the heavy load bearing table exactly where he wanted it. The table now extends from the apron to the barrier, forming a bridge of sorts above the thin protective mats.

Billy: Absolutely no good can come of this.

Max: Just like when your mouth opens.

Even after the World Champion has endured multiple table bumps that would put a normal man into retirement, Simon is still mobile. He turns sluggishly to his side and tries his best to get up.

As Cagero continues his upward momentum, behind him a ladder is being dragged out from under the ring at this point.

Billy: Well, we’ve already seen chairs and tables, might as well as bring out the ladders too.

Craven: Seems only fitting.

With broken tables and shattered chairs lying across the battlefield some new weaponry is added to dish out even further pain. The ladder slides into the ring and Riggs climbs slowly to the apron. He grabs the top rope, both feet pivoting across the apron in anticipation of a big dive.

Simon reaches his feet, barely cognizant that he’s somehow standing. He now turns just as Riggs springs from the top rope and hits the flying double axehandle that he had originally attempted earlier in this bout. The axehandle knocks Cagero to the canvas, where he now lies motionless across the canvas. As Simon lies strewn across the ring Riggs reaches his feet and slowly approaches the ladder, taking as much time as he damn well pleases.

Max: Riggs knows he’s got Simon right where he wants him. If Cagero somehow stages a comeback at this point, and after just saying that I’m sure he will, it should be a miracle.

Billy: Not when your as doped up on Demerol as Cagero is.

The ladder is stretched over Simon’s prone body with Riggs rushing into the ropes at his side and springing to the middle cable. He now flips over backwards into the moonsault, crashing straight across the rungs ribs first with Cagero underneath.

Mayne: Youch, that looked painful.

Craven: You know, call me crazy here, but wasn’t this match supposed to be TABLES are legal? Shouldn’t they be disqualified for using ladders and chairs? Oh whoops, sorry, there I go again, using logic.

Billy: You should know that has NO place here.

Although his ribs may be shattered Riggs shows just how suicidal he can be in response to the challenge Cagero poses. He now approaches a nearby turnbuckle, slipping through it to the apron and overlooking the crowd as he scales the corner.

Billy: Uh oh, not another one of these.

Riggs reaches the top and flings his arms out to his sides, rubbing in his domination. The fans fear the worse as he begins to stabilize himself on the highest point of the corner and now takes flight, flipping through the air. The back of his head crashes into the ladder with the senton bomb that he attempted earlier in this match, but unlike the double axehandle, the second time is not the charm.

He may hit the ladder, doing untold amounts of damage to his body, but Cagero rolled out from under the rungs, saving himself in the nick of time. All of Riggs’ preening and preparation gave Simon just enough time to recover from the two plunges from the table.

Max: Yeah, I’m pretty sure Riggs’ neck has to be fractured at this point.

Mayne: I’m sure he wouldn’t even care.

Riggs’ jaw drops from the pain surging through his neck and upper back, traumatized by the self sacrifice that ultimately proved meaningless. Although Cagero got out of the way he still looks TOO exhausted to stand. He kneels over the shattered remnants of one of the tables, grabbing hold of a chunk as he tries to stand up.

Riggs, crippled neck and all, turns to his knees and with his body ravaged by the extreme brutality of this bout he reaches his feet. Without a care in the world he bends forward and barrels straight at Cagero, leaping over the ladder in order to hit a spear. He travels skull first right into the plank of wood, the chunk of table exploding as Cagero swings it into his opponent’s skull.

Max: Innovative use of the table.

The blow to the cranium seems to have left the Painted Warrior dead to the world. He lays comatose on the canvas as Simon staggers into the ladder, almost falling over it. The World Champion, who has suffered the slings and the arrows of what has turned out to be a classic encounter, instinctively takes the ladder into his hands.

Before anyone, even himself, knows what he’s doing the ladder is positioned in a vertical base.

Mayne: Now what the hell is this sycophant doing?

Max: Do you even know what that word means?

Billy: Yeah, it means that Simon is part elephant right?

Craven: Entire books can be devoted to your sheer idiocy.

The heavily fatigued Cagero actually grabs the rungs of the ladder, beginning to climb it as he ascends higher and higher into the heavens. Obviously he has some type of suicidal leap of his own in store for the prone Riggs. That’s before he gets half way up the ladder and spots a disturbance from the corner of his eye.

Into the ring slides a bandaged and limping Psycho.

Billy: It’s that other fruitcake.

Craven: I guess we know what he and Riggs were discussing backstage, as if it were an actual mystery.

Simon turns around on the ladder and leaps towards the inbound Psycho, hoping to cut him off before he can play a major factor in this match. However, Psycho reaches out and catches Cagero around the throat with both hands. Simon falls to his feet in front of the deranged goliath and then is heaved into the air and ultimately planted to the canvas via the Redeemer.

Mayne: Cagero DESTROYED by Psycho.

Craven: As if Mr. Raw Hamburger Face hasn’t done enough tonight already.

The crowd unleashes their disdain upon Psycho, who even after a torturous Psychotic Steel Cage match had enough to deliver his finisher on the unsuspecting Cagero. Simon convulses on the canvas as Psycho kneels beside him, grinning through the dried blood and warped bandages concealing his features.

Riggs used this valuable time in which to recover, putting most of his weight on the ladder. The moment he sees Psycho putting the boots to Cagero, Riggs is inspired to move away from the steel and supply his own stomps.

Billy: I’m pretty sure that a new World Heavyweight Champion is destined to be crowned at this point.

Max: Too bad it has to go to the oh so undeserving Riggs. The guy can’t even apply his Halloween makeup correctly. It looks like someone sneezed cocaine all over his face.

An endless series of stomps riddles Cagero’s frame as it convulses across the canvas. Ever so briefly the cameras travel from the chaos in the ring to the chaos backstage where a ruckus can be heard from behind a closed door. The voice of Too Magnificent can clearly be heard, screaming to get out so that he can come to the aid of his tag team partner. Unfortunately the door is not only locked from the outside but pinned shut by a small forklift.

Billy: It looks like Too Magnificent is going to be a total non factor.

Max: Hasn’t he always been?

The muffled roars of Too Magnificent continue, although they are in vain. No one answers his demands to open the door, leaving him trapped inside and Simon at the mercy of the Riggs and the Sadistic One.

Craven: Who locked him in his dressing room anyway?

Billy: I don’t know who did it, but they deserve a big slobbery kiss from yours truly.

Max: And yet you wonder why the IWC has so many sexual harassment lawsuits pending.

Back in the ring the beatdown continues with nobody rushing to Cagero’s aid. The World Champion is victimized by this two on one onslaught from his hyper aggressive rivals. Riggs now looks up into the face of the Sadistic One, the two making eye contact. Without a word they nod, knowing what the plan is. Psycho drops to the canvas and rolls under the ropes before grabbing the tarp hung from the apron and throwing it into the air.

A table is now slid out from under the ring and the fans are expressing their dissatisfaction with what is about to unfold.

Billy: This is the beginning of the end for Cagero and his World Heavyweight Title.

The table continues to be dragged out from under the squared circle, spelling doom for Cagero, before all the lights in the building fall into utter darkness.

Mayne: Oh no, not this AGAIN.

Craven: I think it’s about time that the production staff is replaced, the chimps they got operating the lights backstage aren’t doing a very effective job.

Everything, the ring, the ringside area, and the brutalized competitors are draped in the same impenetrable blanket of shadows. The mystery persists for several moments, the fans within the Congress Theater finding themselves totally confused as to what is unfolding within the ring.

Finally, once the house lights regain functionality and illumination is brought to the darkness the crowd has cause for celebration. Psycho is no longer pulling the table out from under the ring and instead has his wrist bound to the turnbuckle post by a pear of steel handcuffs. Psycho looks between the cuff and the post and now realizes that he’s trapped.

Billy: Who? HUH!?!

Max: Somebody handcuffed Psycho to the turnbuckle, keeping him from interfering in this match. And uhhhh, I think by the symbol I’m seeing it was either Zorro, or a Zero.

The camera pans over to the table that is stretched from the apron to the barricade, revealing that a giant red “Z” has been painted into its surface.

Mayne: Rats. Why does Zero keep getting involved in Riggs’ and Psycho’s business? Can’t he just butt out?

Max: Don’t ask me these questions, I just work here, and despite my brand spanking new contract I’m still not paid enough to keep up with all this shit.

For the first time in his career Riggs actually looks stunned. He shows a hint of emotion as he spots Psycho frantically trying to free himself from the handcuff. The Painted Warrior throws his arms out to his sides, wondering what the hell is happening before he turns back towards a now kneeling Cagero. He steps towards the World Champion, intent on finishing this match all on his own.

He grabs Cagero by the hair and forces him up to his feet, now dragging him towards the ropes. The Painted Challenger slips through the cables and pulls Simon along to the apron as well. Clearly Riggs is about to put the now marked table to use as he scoops Simon up onto his shoulder.

Billy: Here we go, here we go, here we go. Riggs about to finish Cagero once and for all with an epic Hopscotch. This is going to be as beautiful as my singing voice.

Max: I think the only person who would be jealous of your singing voice is Boy George, Billy. Anyway, you may be right, for the first time EVER, when you insinuated that this match is about to end.

The crowd prepares themselves for a dissatisfying conclusion to what has been a sure fire match of the year candidate. Cagero is placed over Riggs’ shoulder and is about to suffer the plunge through the weight bearing table. Riggs steps across the apron to deliver the move only for Simon to slip straight from his shoulder, landing on the apron behind him.

In a huff, and with little thought, Riggs spins around only to be caught around the throat and dragged down face first into the apron with the Break the Silence.

Billy: Noooo.

Max: I haven’t seen that done on the apron before, and apparently neither has Riggs.

Psycho tugs on the chain of the handcuff with all he’s worth, especially after watching his partner planted face first into the steel support of the ring. He bounces off and lifelessly rolls off of the apron and onto the table. He lays across the center, head and legs dangling off both sides, dead to the world.

The crowd is rejoicing with another piercing “holy shit” chant after seeing the Break the Silence on the apron. Cagero isn’t through wowing them just yet. He rolls under the ropes and into the ring before crawling towards the ladder.

Mayne: Wait, wait, wait, wait….

Craven: I think everyone should prepare to have their minds blown, and for once not by me.

Anxiety builds in the stands, their lungs almost exploding from their joyous reception. Psycho calls out to Riggs but it is to no avail, his brain thoroughly scrambled by the collision with the apron. There is no response to the pleas of the Sadistic One, or to the sight of Simon now standing on the very top of the ladder. Although it trembles beneath his feet Cagero stands up straight, overlooking the fans who are crying his name.

Billy: Don’t do it Simon, just stop for a moment and think.

Max: He’s never done it before and he’s not going to do it tonight.

The enthused crowd almost keels over with a heart-attack as Simon takes flight, soaring from the top of the ladder, flipping forward and crashing into Riggs with a senton bomb. He puts the Painted Warrior through the table as both men crash to the mats below the shattered wood.

Mayne: OH MY GOOOODDDESSS!

Craven: That was fun.

Fans: I-W-C, I-W-C, I-W-C, I-W-C!!

There is not one occupied seat in the building, everyone is standing and rejoicing after one of the sickest dives they’ve ever witnessed. Their heart beats race as their adrenaline surges.

Billy: Cagero, he just, how did, why did he….

Max: A senton bomb from the top of a ladder in the ring through Riggs on that table at ringside. That’s one for the highlight reels.

The bodies of Champion and Challenger are just as broken and twisted as the fragments of table they lie amongst. From this wreckage there should be no survivors, but somehow Simon begins to climb out of the debris. Someway, somehow the World Champion is able to not only crawl from the crash sight but pull Riggs along with him. There is nothing left of either man but raw instinct as Riggs rolls under the ropes and is followed in by Cagero.

Simon, broken bones, torn muscles, ripped flesh and all climbs into the lateral press, arm draped over Riggs’ sternum.

Craven: After all the chaos, the bedlam, the physical as well as verbal shots, has the war between these two finally reached its gory conclusion?

Billy: I don’t know if my stomach can take anymore of this.

The referee’s hand slaps the canvas while the passionate cries of the crowd fill the Congress Theater.

1

2

3

The battle waged between Riggs and Simon, a campaign lasting for most of 2009, has finally reached its epic dénouement on a truly historic night.

Mayne: It’s over, it’s finally, mercifully over.

Max: Simon Cagero has survived a rough, treacherous road and has emerged STILL World Heavyweight Champion.

Billy: Sadly I must give credit where it is due, this was incredible. Plus both men shortened their careers substantially, which I also like.

In spite of the many plunges through the tables, the shots against the barricade, the Shinning Wizards and DDTs, Cagero stands triumphant. He almost loses his footing as the World Heavyweight Title is wrapped around his forearm by the official. The weight almost sends him toppling over to his side, yet somehow he catches himself. He roots his feet to the canvas and stands up tall to lift the Championship up high. The fans give him, his opponent, and this match a well deserved standing ovation.

Max: The rivalry between Riggs and Cagero comes to an end tonight at Extinction and it’s Simon who stands victorious this evening, STILL World Champion.

Billy: This has been one of the all time craziest nights I think I’ve ever witnessed.

Craven: And it’s an appropriate end to 2009, a great year that could have been greater if I had more appearances towards the tail end of it.

After a night of betrayals, swerves, screw jobs and returns, Cagero stands at the top of the heap as the World Heavyweight Champion. The belt glistens high above his bruised, lacerated body as Extinction draws to a close.

FADE TO BLACK