OPENING VIDEO PACKAGE

RIOT!

A massive fireworks display erupts from the stage, the rafters, pretty much every inch of the building that won’t set the fans on fire. The crowd is already heated enough, their excitement giving them cold sweats as they anticipate the start of another bi-weekly edition of Riot! Their reaction intensifies at the sight of the President himself, occupying the squared circle.

Mark Comeau: The cameras are on, the fans are up, and your listening to my wonderful voice, so that can only mean that Riot! is officially underway. Welcome to what may be the biggest show, literally in terms of length, in IWC history.

Susie Moore: It’s bigger than Orlando Cruze’s head.

Comeau: Wow, a metaphor that actually makes sense, kinda. Good job, Susie.

Moore: Do I get a sticker now?

Mark: Ugh, yes. Anyway, what makes this show such a potential blockbuster is that you people watching at home, and those gathered in the stands will be calling the shots, and I think that’s exactly what, amongst other topics, our new President Orlando Cruze is in the ring to address.

INTO THE FIRE

The last thing anyone expected was to see Orlando Cruze standing dead center of the IWC ring. But there he is, and to make matters all the more intriguing, he’s brought along a special guest. That guest just so happens to be the IWC World Heavyweight Title belt, the strap dawning his broad shoulder.

Orlando Cruze: I guess the only thing that I can say, is that I’ve jumped from the fire into molting lava.

The presence of the World Title is hint enough for the fans to clue into what Orlando is referring.

Cruze: Even after retiring as an active IWC competitor I still find myself in a hotbed of controversy. But you know what they say, if you can’t stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen, and let’s just say I like to cook with fire.

Mark: Orlando right in the midst of a very important speech.

Susie: Is he announcing a free bobble-head night? That’s the only way I’d be interested.

Comeau: No, he’s actually discussing what he’s going to do about this whole World Title situation.

Moore: Yawwwwn.

With the crowd’s utmost attention focused upon him, Orlando continues his very inspired speech.

Orlando: I’m definitely feeling the pressure, actually, it’s about enough pressure to turn coal into a diamond, and this is just my opportunity to shine BABY!

Cheers are elicited from the masses, grateful to see Orlando in good spirits given how his first week as president went.

Cruze: Last week may not have gone that well, it may have been mired in controversial moments, but this week its time to rebound. This week we can erase the memory of what went down on the prior Riot! and settle any of the lingering issues that program set into motion. Roughly translated, this shit ENDS tonight.

The reception gets louder, the camera zoomed in on the determined face of the Icon, his eyes sending the message that he’s ready to put his foot down. The crowd is on board with the concept of the Icon flexing his political muscle and steering the IWC ship into calmer seas.

Orlando: Enough verbal foreplay though, I realize my voice may reek of sex appeal but it’s time to get down and dirty. I want to start by addressing the roster…..

The fans wonder if some Spring cleaning is in order, even though they’re in the dog days of summer.

Cruze: It’s time to shuffle things up around here, which is why I announced the King for the Day concept, which we’ll be getting a sneak peek of tonight with you THE FANS calling the shots….

A loud reaction is elicited, the crowd responding like their at a rave tripping on copious amounts of acid.

Orlando: And I’ve thought of yet ANOTHER way to shake and bake the IWC, by bringing some HUGE names back to the roster. That’s precisely why I personally approached two individuals who need no introduction, and signed their names to big fat lucrative contacts. Those two men will debut here tonight, and I think it’s safe to say that they’re gonna make an IMPACT.

The crowd’s nipples tingle with excitement.

Cruze: But you know me, when I promise announce-MENTS, I deliver, which means I’m nowhere near through. Now I know you guys are gonna be angry with me, and it’s perfectly understandable, but for the sake of ending the World Title chaos, I’m invoking the sacred right of “card subject to change.” Some of you may like this, some of you probably won’t, but I’m not about to risk the sanctity of this World Title by shoehorning guys into that special enforcer role that I can’t trust. Therefore, if it’s alright with each and everyone of you, I think to protect the title, that I should enforce that World Championship match later this evening.

The reaction, so deafening in fact it even cause Helen Keller to insert ear plugs, rips through the arena, the crowd quite comfortable with Orlando enforcing the main event. Cruze steps back and forth, pointing towards the crowd on all sides, judging their reactions. Finally he nods, steps back and shrugs.

Orlando: I guess that answers my question. So now you fans can rest assure that on YOUR night, the World Title fiasco will end and a definitive champion will walk away with the gold.

The fans like that, they like it a lot.

Cruze: And that brings me to what happened last week.

Boos.

Orlando: My sentiments exactly. I assume we’re all equally as disgusted by what happened to Johnny Kingdom, and the fashion in which Robin Brooks pinned him for the title. That BS can’t stand, I have NO tolerance for it. After putting up with the Conspiracy for close to a year exploiting loop holes and politics to disgrace the World Championship I’ll be DAMNED if that trend continues under my watch.

Cruze turns his attention towards the entry way, ready to call someone out perhaps.

Cruze: That’s why I put together this World Title match on you’re behalf, to settle the controversy IMMEDIATELY, and am inserting myself in as special enforcer to ensure history doesn’t repeat itself. But I think I can protect the sanctity of tonight’s main event right now!

They have no idea what he’s talking about but the fans are excited nevertheless.

Orlando: And I’ll do so by calling out and dealing with the man we all know was responsible for last week’s attack on Kingdom. There may be a lengthy list of suspects, but one name stands out at the top: CHRISTIAN SAVIOR!

The mere mention of the name gives everyone chills and cold soars in their mouths.

Cruze: I’m gonna nip this in the butt by going straight….

The lyrics of “Falling in the Black” hits the PA system and cuts right into Orlando’s monologue. He sighs and glares at the stage where Christian Savior at once appears. The Rising Phoenix wears his long trench coat and street gear, but his most important attire are the Tag Title belts draped over his shoulder. As he moseys up the stairs to the apron, then into the ring, the crowd can feel that the tension in the air has become as thick as James Earl Jones.

Mark: I think things have just gotten more interesting. The very man that Orlando believes is responsible for the assault on Kingdom is making his presence known, perhaps either to dispute his involvement or confess to his actions.

Susie: Or maybe he came out here to give an impassioned speech about why I deserve a snow-cone.

The long time rivals, bitter, heated adversaries stand mono a mono, opposed to one another in preparation to anything that the other may do.

Orlando: Speak of the Devil, literally.

Christian: It’s nice that you hold such a high opinion of me. I’m sorry Orlando, truly, truly sorry…

His words are about as full of shit as Oprah’s colon.

Savior: But I just couldn’t tolerate it any longer. I just couldn't take this FARCE.

Cruze: Farce aye?

Christian: Yeah, where you come out here, pretending to call the shots, pretending to have power, pushing people around. Thankfully Douglas will put an end to this SHAM upon his return.

Orlando: Uhhh, did you not see what I did to Douglas at Paranoia? I don’t think you’ll be seeing him any time soon, if EVER. And even if he did come back, I’d still have the power to boss around whoever I like, yourself included. If I were an ego maniacal pompous windbag like Dan, and YOURSELF, I would abuse that honor whenever possible, but I’m not, and besides, tonight the fans are calling the shots, such as deciding who’s going to referee your match.

Christian is un-phase by such comments. He continues to give Orlando that same dead stare.

Christian: Is that supposed to intimidate me? Nothing these idiots can do will ever effect my career.

Mandatory boos.

Savior: I’m above them, I’m above you, and I’m above bias accusations.

Orlando: Hate to correct you again but your making it far too easy. I don’t think I’ve shown myself to be biased at all.

Christian: HA! You said it yourself last week, BOSS, everyone who has occupied your position in the past has succumb to temptation, your no better than Sheryl Gray, or that fat Canadian freeloader Mark Comeau. Just because the fans cheer you, it doesn’t hide the fact that you’re as corrupt as any former president.

Orlando rolls his eyes.

Savior: Look at what you’ve done already, BOSS, you’ve inserted yourself into tonight’s World Title match, to make sure the spotlight remains on you, and you’ve deflected blame onto me for last week’s attack when everyone and their mother knows that it was your BOY that was responsible.

Orlando: What is that supposed to mean?

Christian: Uh, duh’, do I have to write it on a cocktail napkin for you, do I need to draw a diagram, how about a pie chart? Even with overwhelming evidence staring you point blank in the face you dismiss it. Nathan Creed WAS the man who attacked Kingdom not once, but twice. You know this to be the truth and yet you protect Creed, you try to convince these people that it was anybody but your precious bromosexual responsible for last week’s debacle.

Cruze: Typical Christian, planting the seeds of distrust.

Christian cackles with laughter over Orlando’s insinuation.

Christian: There you go again, BOSS, burying the truth, pandering to these fools, protecting Nathan…..

PAIN

Once again all attention diverts to the arriving Nathan Creed. The Future wastes no time in storming to the ring, climbing the steps and slipping through the ropes. Instead of carrying his own mic he borrows one from his long time partner, Orlando.

Creed: Christian, first of all, you’re a douche-bag.

Laughter emanates from the crowd, Savior mocking their chuckles before giving them an “up yours” taunt.

Mark: Nathan Creed coming out here and telling it like it is.

Moore: So Savior really is a douche? That must be why he’s so pale.

Comeau: The tension continuing to increase as Nathan stands opposed to his long time nemesis, Savior, and unlike Cruze, he has no internal filter.

Nathan paces back and forth as he unloads on Christian, maintaining eye contact all the while.

Creed: First of all Christian, I need NO ONE to protect me. I can fight my own battles…

The Rising Phoenix chuckles to himself.

Nathan: And I had nothing to gain from attacking Kingdom.

Christian: COME OFF IT! You’re the one who had the most to gain. Kingdom has been denying you the one thing you’ve ALWAYS wanted, the World Heavyweight Title. You know that you can’t beat him. You’ve tried over and over again and you’ve FAILED. So you wanted to make sure to get the title away from Kingdom, and put it on someone you have a shot at beating. Me on the other hand, I don’t need to go to such drastic lengths, I know in a one on one match I can take Kingdom.

Creed: Yeah, just like in Steel Cage Elimination?

Savior: That was a freak occurrence Creed.

Nathan: No, it was a demonstration that YOU can’t accomplish anything without help from your handlers. Your projecting your inadequacies unto me.

Christian: I’ve accomplished plenty, I WAS World Champion, and for a lot longer than yourself.

Nathan: Yeah, but you didn’t actually achieve anything, considering you had your hand held through every match. Face it, for you, attacking Kingdom is par for the course. You’ve openly said that you want to affect and manipulate the path of the World Title.

Savior: True. But I’m a lights on kinda guy. I don’t have to hide my treachery, my manipulation, I’m no coward like you, I don’t need the lights off to attack. If I’m gonna take the time doing something, you better believe that the whole world is going to know about it. Besides, attacking Kingdom isn’t necessary, it isn’t part of my plan. Plans involving Pat Evans finally getting what he deserves, what I selfishly deprived him of for so long.

Creed: A personality?

The crowd waits for the obligatory drum roll to commemorate the zinger.

Christian: No, I was thinking more in the line of a World Heavyweight Title shot. How would you like that Creed, doesn’t the thought of your “nemesis” getting a title shot just tickle you pink?

Nathan gives Savior a dead stare, the type that would normally shrivel a pear of balls into a vagina.

Orlando: Whoa now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Cruze tries to interject, invoking his right to use rational thought.

Cruze: Christian, last time I looked your name wasn’t sitting on the boss’ desk backstage, so what makes you think you can arbitrarily give Pat any type of title shot? I think Pat EXHAUSTED his title opportunities and is now at the back of the line.

Christian: There you go again Cruze, being a hypocrite, going against your word.

Orlando: My WORD is final, Christian.

Savior: Well in the words of Rosa Parks, when she refused to be seated in the back of the bus and stood up to the MAN, “NO!” Your word isn’t final, Orlando. I can’t understand why you would go from saying your not above anybody on the roster, then turn around this week and start throwing around your power and to start protecting your buds. It didn’t take long for you to be corrupted did it?

Cruze: YOU think your above everyone on this roster, that you shouldn’t be held accountable for your past acts, that you can come out here and call shots. *Ring, Ring* This is reality calling Christian. It’s calling to remind you of something else I said last week. I said that Dan Douglas’ administration was DEAD, and that I’m going to do everything in my POWER to erase it from the heads of all these fans.

Savior: Yeah, okay, that’s all well and good, doesn’t mean a thing, but I’m sure you feel better having pounded your chest, grunted, groaned, and flung your feces around.

Cruze shrugs, wondering what that’s even suppose to mean. Nathan clearly doesn’t have an answer, his mind far too consumed with the thought of Evans receiving a World Title match.

Christian: Unfortunately for you, this time you won’t be HOLDING someone back. You see, I’m not like you, Orlando. I almost was until I had my eyes opened. Until Pat Evans made some sense. Shocking, yes, I know, but true nevertheless. He made me realize I was becoming just as selfish and power hungry as you, Cruze. That like Johnny Kingdom, I was allowing my influence backstage to keep people under my thumb, to hold down anyone I felt threatened by. But times they are a’changin!

Cruze motions for him to finish his thought so he can FINALLY get a word in edgewise.

Christian: With one act I’ll repair the image of the IWC, I’ll take some varnish to its initials, clean up the scuff, get rid of the rust. I’m hereby announcing, and keep in mind Orlando, your power counts for nothing because you CAN’T do a thing about this, that I’m REWARDING Evans with my guaranteed World Title shot.

Mark: WHAT!?!

Susie: You really need to invest in a hearing aid, Mark. But don’t worry, I think he said something about ponies, and giving them to me.

Comeau: That’s not what he said at all you blithering waste of flesh. I couldn’t of heard him correctly though, there’s no WAY he’s actually giving his title shot to Evans.

Both the Icon and the Future find themselves stunned and flabbergasted, as if they were just stricken with a case of menopause.

Savior: Everyone can now consider Pat Evans the OFFICIAL number one contender, all thanks to my charitable spirit, and my desire to buck the trends around here. So you see now, Orlando, I have nothing to gain by beating down Kingdom, I want him to have no excuses when Evans pins him for the World Championship. Unlike YOUR reigns Cruze, I’m making sure Evans’ championship win goes astrix free in the record books.

Orlando: And what makes you think I CAN’T do anything about this?

Christian: Because I have an iron clad contract, which allows me to do just this. Now why don’t you spend less time holding down talent, and more time punishing those responsible for last week’s World Title fiasco?

Savior turns towards the Future, winking in his direction. It takes everything in his power to keep from pummeling the former World Champion. That’s when “Outsider” hits the PA system, sending the crowd into such a ruckus you would think this were a Pearl Jam concert. From the curtains emerges Pat Evans, and he does not look elated over Christian’s announcement, FAR from it.

Comeau: And here’s another man that I imagine has some choice words for Christian.

Susie: I hope they’re not naughty words.

No time is spent pandering to the masses, Evans all business as he slips under the ropes, into the ring and produces a microphone from his pocket. Thankfully the IWC found a fantastic coupon in the Penny-Saver advertising a 2 for 1 special on mics.

Pat Evans: What makes you think that I NEED you to give me a World Title shot?

Before Christian can explain how Evans has misinterpreted, Pat continues defending himself against this perceived injustice.

Evans: What, you think I can’t earn one on my own? And more importantly, what in your egomaniacal mind makes you believe that I’d take anything from you?

Once again Savior tries to explain but isn’t given the opportunity. Evans takes some bold, threatening steps towards his long time comrade in the Conspiracy. All the while Orlando and Nathan stand back, whispering amongst one another.

Pat: I don’t want a title shot handed to me, especially if you’re the one doing the handing. I’m not stupid enough to believe that this match doesn’t come without strings attached. I won’t be played like your brothers, I’m not your fool….

Nathan: Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, are you two done with this lover’s quarrel yet? Because your BOSS has an announcement he wants to make.

Surprisingly Orlando saves Christian from receiving a beat down from the unstable Evans. He doesn’t want chaos and blood spilt, even if that blood belongs to Savior. Creed returns the microphone to the man about to make ANOTHER bombshell.

Orlando: Indeed I do. For Creed and I were just talking and we’ve decided that this pointless jabbering is getting us nowhere and BORING these fans who came to see some action. I’ve got business that needs to be dealt with, I can’t be standing here in the ring all night listening to the two of you bitch.

The crowd cheers and Savior sneers.

Cruze: So Evans, if you want to prove to me that you DESERVE a World Title shot, and Creed, you want to show the world that you can fight your own battles, how about we go ahead and get that Iron Submission match underway?

Evans’ face goes as white as Roger Rabbit’s fur, and the grin on Creed’s face is wide enough to build a bridge from earth to the moon.

Orlando: That is of course, if the fans agree.

Cruze looks out over the crowd, getting their permission. It doesn’t take much prompting to elicit a deafening roar from the crowd, everyone wanting to see the culmination to the six month feud between Evans and Creed, and see it RIGHT NOW.

Cruze: Savior, you and I can continue our discussion backstage, because you’ve STILL got some explaining to do. Someone get a ref out here and let’s this get show ROLLIN.

Before a protest can be made by the unprepared Evans, Orlando vacates the ring, closing his ears to the pleas. Savior exits the ring as well, stepping to the apron and shouting some last minute words of encouragement to Evans.

Savior: I’ll be watching CHAMP.

Pat spins around and eyes Savior like he were strangling the pope.

Mark: Umm, uhhh, a twisted start to Riot! to say the least. Savior handing over his title shot to Evans, in an attempt to right the wrongs of guys like Orlando Cruze and Johnny Kingdom, which is an entire island of bullshit, and now we’re seeing what could be a feud ending Iron Submission match.

Susie: I’d rather it be an iron chef match, they can cook food that I’ll imagine eating.

Evans doesn’t like the way this show has started, not one little bit, instead of being allowed to defend himself verbally, he’s now put in a situation where he has to defend himself physically. Nathan, who came out to clear his name, gets something he wants just as much, a chance to twist, bend, and ultimately cripple the Conspiracy stalwart.

PAT EVANS VS. NATHAN CREED
IRON SUBMISSION

Comeau: What a unique way to start off tonight’s telecast, with an Iron Submission confrontation that was demanded by our fans. They wanted to see Evans and Creed settle this long time grudge and considering that they’re calling the shots they get what they want.

Susie: When will I get what I want? It’s not fair, I NEVER get my own way. Time to pout, right……NOW.

Nathan and Pat closely eye one another, remembering everything that they’ve put each other through since Extinction last year. It all comes down to this, a final battle between bitter rivals. With Orlando and Christian cleared from the ring and the bell chiming in the background there is no longer any delay.

Before Pat can even prepare himself, Nathan bolts across the ring, chops him across the chest, and sends him staggering backwards. Creed nails another chop and another and another, the blows lighting up Evans’ sternum as he falls spine first into the ropes.

The angered Creed, who is not only motivated by anger but by his will to prove himself, whips Evans across the ring, sending him into the opposite ropes. He bounces off and comes back in at the man he cost the World Title, Creed meeting him at the mid-way point of the ring with a big knee to the ribs.

Pat flips forward, crashing to his seat and wrapping his arms around his battered mid-section.

Comeau: Chops from Creed followed up by that running knee to the ribs, Creed all amped up this evening.

Moore: He must be off the decaf. I tried caffeine once, it caused me to shake so badly I traveled back in time. I met Marty McFly and everything.

Evans grips at his ribs and struggles to his feet when Creed rushes in delivering a lariat to his throat. Pat is taken right back down, his throat throbbing from the pain. He rolls to his knees when Nathan slaps him in a front chancery, pulls him up to his feet and snaps over backwards into a vertical suplex.

The technical tyrant reaches for his kidneys as he smartly rolls out of the ring, getting clear from Creed’s clutches.

He drops to the outside mats and tries to create some space between himself and his long time rival. That’s when Nathan comes barreling across the ring and diving through the ropes, nailing a suicide headbunt to the upper back of Evans. The collision sends Pat flying forward into the barricade, crashing face first against it.

Comeau: Pat just can’t get away from Nathan. Creed has wanted this match for so long and he’s not letting Evans weasel his way out of it. He doesn’t even care about exhausting himself early on, time limit be damned.

Pat collapses to his back, holding what could possibly be a fractured nose after that slam into the barricade. Creed stands up taking one long look out over the screaming crowd. They are as energized as a Bunny holding drums, enthused by Nathan’s violence.

He increases the pressure on Evans, taking Pat by his wrist, dragging him up to his feet then wrapping his arms around his waist. Before Pat can even think of putting up a fight, Creed delivers an overhead belly to belly suplex that sends him flying into the outside mats.

He splashes back first against the thin protecting matting, his face going as pale as Michael Jackson’s knuckles.

Comeau: Belly to belly suplex on the mats, doing even more damage to Evans. At this rate I don’t think there’s anyway Pat will survive the full twenty minutes. Normally these Iron Submission bouts would go thirty minutes, but due to TV time limitations it’s been shortened this evening, not that it’ll be any less grueling.

Moore: Thanks for explaining things in detail, although I think you should do it slower that way you don’t loose your audience.

Mark: The audience, or you?

Susie: One in the same, he-he.

Nathan rolls into the ring to break scab referee Conrad’s count then back out, closing in on the crawling Evans. Pat utilizes the turnbuckle post to drag himself to his feet but at this point it probably would have been wiser for him to just stay down.

Creed takes him by the shoulder, spins him around and grabs his wrist, whipping him straight towards the steel plated barricade. Pat cannot stop it as he slams with all the force of being shot from a cannon into the barrier, his back taking much of the impact.

His arm falls over the barrier to keep himself upright while Nathan moves in, pops him across the forehead, takes him by the wrist and whips him at the steel steps at this point.

Evans drops to his knees slamming shoulder first into the steps, a dent of his body left in the steel. He falls to his seat, propped back first against the steps while Creed stomps his foot, getting the crowd even more jacked up. They act like they’ve just taken a straight dosage of steroids to the heart, thoroughly pumped as Nathan comes charging across the mats.

He launches himself knee first directly at Pat’s face when the submission specialist clears out of the way. As a result Nathan slams his knee-cap straight into the metal, the sound of the collision resembling a gun-shot throughout the Manhattan Center.

Comeau: Nathan got a little too ahead of himself that time and his knee paid the price.

Susie: As if it already doesn’t suffer enough being covered by slacks every day.

Creed falls to his damaged knee, his hand wrapped around the opening in the steps that wraps around the exposed turnbuckle post. That’s when Evans moves in and delivers a straight kick to the stairs, sandwiching Creed’s knuckles between the steps and the post, possibly shattering his fingers.

Mark: Ohhhh! Creed’s hand may have just been broken into a thousand little pieces.

Susie: Good, then he can put them in a sock and use them to reanimate Optimus Prime.

Nathan’s fingers are already swelling as he rolls back and forth on the mats, trying to cradle his hand to his ribs. Pat takes a slight breather, leaning against the apron and fixing his damaged nose. That’s when he steps in, takes Creed by the hair, forces him to his feet and rolls him into the ring.

He slides in himself as Nathan tries to get back to his feet, his hands and knees positioned beneath him. Just as he starts to stand, Evans moves in and stomps his bruised knuckles, causing Nathan to unleash a roar of pain. He falls right back to his spine, holding his throbbing hand by the wrist and shaking it above his body.

Comeau: And I can’t fault Evans for this, he’s going right after that injured hand. Once he spots a weakness he’s quick to exploit it.

Moore: Every chance I get to insert a random cartoon reference I’ll exploit as well.

Mark: Just like Creed, Evans has a little extra motivation for this match, after being “rewarded” a World Title shot by Christian Savior. I can’t wait to see how that whole debacle pans out.

Susie: And I can’t wait till Michael Bay directs a movie consistently entirely of EXPLOSIONS!

Evans grabs the forearm leading to Nathan’s injured hand and swings his fist down into the canvas forcefully. Nathan sits up, gritting through the pain, gnawing at his lower lip in the process. The diabolical technician grabs Creed’s hand, folds his fingers over backwards and places them to the canvas before stomping down at his palm.

If the fingers weren’t broken before they surely have to be now, Nathan crying out in pain. He turns over to his knees, trying to protect his wounded digits before Evans grabs his arm, folds it over backwards into a modified top wrist lock and begins to squeeze the fingers with all his strength.

Nathan bites at his free knuckles as the submission twists and rips the muscle in his fingers from the bone. The Scab Referee checks on his condition, asking him whether or not he wishes to tap out. Creed shouts “no,” refusing to submit to the man who has caused him so much grief.

He feeds from the adrenaline, from his hatred for Evans, driving him to get closer and closer to his feet. That’s when Evans takes Creed’s arm, extends it out to his side in a fujiwara and charges at the nearby turnbuckle. He drives Creed’s fist right into the top turnbuckle pad, causing the Future to twist in circles, shaking his swelling fingers.

Mark: Nathan may loose function in that hand if he can’t get away from Evans.

Moore: Then how will he keep himself company on those long nights without Krissie?

Pat steps up behind Nathan, grabs his arm and stretches it out to his side once again. He applies a modified fujiwara before reaching out, grabbing Creed’s fingers and bending them over backwards at a very awkward angle.

Once again Creed finds himself kneeling on the canvas, trying to block the pain shooting through his arm, emanating from his twisted digits. His entire face twists with anger, reminding himself of everything that Pat has cost him over the past six or so months, compelling him to keep fighting.

His struggle may be in vain, but he will not be bested by the very individual who has caused him so much heart ache and grief. With time ticking away on the clock he once again tries to stand up only to have Evans break his own hold, take Creed under the jaw and deliver an elbow to the forehead.

Creed falls to his side, shaking off the effects of the blow to his brain while Evans grabs him by the fingers and extends his hand across the canvas. He lunges into the air, going for a knee drop onto the hand only to have Nathan roll out of the way at the last second.

Pat crashes knee first into the canvas but it causes him little grief, too angered to realize what pain he’s in. Nathan rolls away from his opposition, having prevented having his career perhaps ended thanks to permanent loss of feeling in his hand.

Comeau: Creed keeping his shot at victory alive by preventing further damage to his hand, but at this point it may be academic given what his fingers have already been subjected to.

Moore: Are you trying to take a shot at Krissie McMorris?

Mark: What do you mean by….oh that’s just gross.

Evans steps in and Nathan makes a truly boneheaded move by using his injured hand to chop him across the chest. The blow knocks Pat back but causes Creed to double over, wincing in pain. Pat steps forward and delivers a knee strike to Nathan’s face, causing him to stand up and stumble backwards in the direction of the ropes.

Evans now steps in for a blatant closed fist only to have Nathan surprise him by reaching out and wrapping his arms around the technician’s waist. Pat’s face twists with concern and fear as Creed belly to belly suplexes him over the ropes, sending him crashing to the outside mats.

Comeau: Injured hand and all, Creed still possessed the ability to hit that belly to belly sending Evans crashing all the way to the outside mats.

The crowd groans as Evans hits the mats, his injured body rolling across it. His lower back suffers from the trauma of the landing, pushing himself up onto a single palm while his other hand protects his kidneys. The scab ref is unable to do much in the way of counting out Evans given that the rules of Iron Submission explicitly state that scores can only be achieved via tap outs.

Therefore, Pat takes all the time he needs to recover on the mats, sluggishly starting to stand up before Nathan slides out in front of him. He charges up beside the kneeling Evans and cuts into his recovery time by delivering a straight kick to his temple.

The shot knocks Evans sideways into the barricade, crashing against the steel he met face first earlier in this contest. Nathan slides back into the ring, gripping and shaking his fingers in the process then taking off into the far ropes. He bounces off and prepares for yet another suicide diving headbunt.

He bends forward preparing to launch himself through the cables when Evans leaps to the apron, grabs the top rope and pulls himself over. He catches the inbound Nathan around the waist and drops down into a sunset flip. Instead of going for the pin, which would be inconsequential, Evans instead stands up, grabs Nathan by the ankle and rolls him to his stomach, applying the ankle lock.

Comeau: An amazing, well timed counter by Evans, leading into the ankle lock. He wasn’t going to suffer that diving headbunt for a second time.

Susie: Awww, I thought we all agreed that repetition was awesome, creativity sucks and is too hard to call.

Creed pushes himself up onto his elbows, refusing to call out in pain and give Evans the satisfaction of hearing his cries. Pat rips, tears, twists and grinds the ankle until the bone almost turns to salt yet Creed still won’t tap out. Finally, in a feat tailor made for highlight reels, Creed is able to twist to his back, pull down on his leg and drag Evans forward into position for the triangle choke.

Nathan desperately tries to get the hold applied even with his bruised fingers but Evans isn’t making it easy.

Comeau: What a counter, Creed going for the triangle choke, a move that could very well put him one submission ahead of Evans with twelve minutes remaining in this contest. All he has to do is get it locked in.

Evans continues to struggle, twisting back and forth out of desperation. After quite the ordeal, and after giving up on the ankle, Evans grabs the damaged fingers of Creed and pulls them out from behind his head.

The pain is too much, Nathan forced to break his triangle choke attempt as Evans spins out of position, turning his back on the Future. That’s when Creed catches Pat with a school boy, pulling him over into the pinning predicament, standing up and taking hold of his legs.

The crowd becomes so loud they could blow the roof off of the Manhattan Center as Nathan turns Evans over into the Upset.

Comeau: A transition right into the Upset! Evans on the brink of submission.

Pat shakes his head, valiantly hanging in there despite the pain coursing all through his lower back and legs. Despite the fragile nature of Nathan’s hand, he’s surprisingly got the hold well executed. Evans looks up at the ropes, realizing that they are too far away, and that the longer he stays in this submission the greater he risks permanent damage.

In a strategic act, Evans taps the canvas, the crowd going nuts as Creed has just put himself up one submission to zero with ten minutes remaining.

Mark: Evans tapping meaning Creed is now one submission ahead of his nemesis.

Susie: Yay, the match is over.

Mark: Actually there’s still ten minutes left for Evans to tie the score.

Moore: Oh, well I’m gonna put this tape recorder on then while I sleep. It’s got all my classic one liners, just make sure to flip it over to side B after thirty seconds.

Comeau: I don’t see how a tape recorded version of you could possibly be any worse than the real thing.

The scab steps in and starts a five count, reaching four on Nathan before he finally breaks the submission. He steps forward, shoves the referee aside and goes back to work on his opposition, no rest for the wicked. Evans begins to crawl to his feet when Nathan stoops over, takes him around the waist and lifts him up only long enough to fall back into the German suplex.

The back of Pat’s head and shoulders cracks against the canvas while Creed spins his hips and rises to his feet, dragging a frazzled Evans along with him. Both men reach their feet with Creed again setting up for the German. That’s when Evans tries to counter by launching a back elbow at his temple.

Nathan counters the counter, side stepping the inbound elbow, moving behind it and trapping the bicep. He successfully drags him down into a fujiwara but can’t get it properly applied given the condition of his fingers. Evans refuses to strategically tap out again, digging his free hand into the canvas and amongst a rousing wave of boos grabbing the bottom rope.

Comeau: Evans keeping himself from going down two submissions to none. That would be a monumental deficit to return from.

Moore: This is a real slobberknocker.

Mark: Dammit, turn off that tape-recorder. And did you just copy all of JR’s classic comments?

Susie: Well, you told me I couldn’t use Michael Cole anymore.

Nathan refuses to break the fujiwara on Evans, even as the official commences with another five count and nears four. Pat takes it upon himself to free his targeted limb, grabbing the apron and pulling himself under the ropes to the outside. He drops to his feet on the mats with his arm still stuck in the ring and trapped in the fujiwara.

Creed breaks the hold but keeps a grasp on the wrist of his opponent. He stands up and tugs on Pat’s hand, dragging him ribs first hard into the apron. The blow knocks all the air out of Pat’s lungs and possibly fractures a rib, but Creed shows no mercy. He tugs on the wrist until Evans is forced to slide back into the ring and the Future once again drops down going for the fujiwara.

Unfortunately he only had Evans on the apron, allowing Pat some separation via the cables. He begins to stand up with Nathan doing the same in the ring, both men getting to their knees with Pat’s arm extended into the ring under the bottom cable.

The official is all up in Creed’s face, threatening to disqualify him even though the scab is a bit hazy on the rules to this type of contest. Finally Nathan releases the arm after he’s sure significant damage has been done, then twists around and reaches through the ropes, grabbing Pat’s wrist once again.

He begins to drag him through the ropes when Evans falls to his back across the apron, lifts his foot into the air and kicks the injured hand of Nathan with all the force he could muster. Nathan can hear a crack in his knuckles as he turns away from the ropes and stumbles towards the center of the ring, doubled over his hand in pain.

Mark: Evans using his brain by targeting that hand and saving himself from yet another submission hold.

Creed’s whole body shakes from the pain, falling to a knee and squeezing his fingers to get the blood flowing back into them. Evans enters the ring at this point, steps towards Creed and over his head. Even though his shoulder is killing him, Evans takes the bold gamble of grabbing Nathan around the waist, trying to lift him for his crucifix powerbomb variation.

However, to the shock of Evans especially, Creed stands up, allowing Evans to hang over his back in position for the kryptonite krunch. Just before the move can connect, Pat slips his legs off of Nathan’s shoulders and counters into a sunset flip. As soon as Nathan’s back hits the canvas, Evans slips up beside him, grabs his injured hand and bends his fingers as far backwards as possible.

Comeau: And Evans goes after the hand once more, this time putting it in a submission predicament. Can Creed hang in there and prevent tapping out?

Susie: Yes, because people with teeth in that bad of shape are usually tough, and pirates.

The pain is just too much for Nathan, prompting him to do something he’s not known for and tap.

Comeau: Oh, now the score is tied one to one with just six minutes remaining in this Iron Submission bout. Not that I’d like to see it, but there’s a very real possibility this match will end in a draw.

Moore: Hopefully it’s an etch-o-sketch then.

Evans breaks the hold after he hears the tap out then immediately proceeds to break the fingers. He jumps into the air and comes down knee first into Nathan’s hand, hitting the move he was looking for earlier. Nathan’s entire body goes blood red as he rolls across the ring to his knees, once again cradling his wounded hand.

The malicious Pat steps up at his side and swoops in for the kill move. He jumps into the air, wraps his legs around Nathan’s head and drops to his back, going for a triangle choke variation that will allow him to exposed Creed’s hand entirely and leave him completely defenseless.

Comeau: Now it’s Evans going for that triangle choke and with a sense of urgency to boot. But I think he’s more so focusing on getting hold of that hand.

Moore: I wonder if it’s the one that Mae Young gave birth too.

The submission is seemingly seconds from being applied before Nathan uses all his strength to stand up and on top of that, to hoist Evans from the canvas into the air. Pat ends up seated on top of Creed’s shoulder as he charges across the ring and throws him spine first into the turnbuckle with almost a modified buckle bomb.

Pat unleashes a blood curdling roar due to the vicious impact which causes him to stagger out of the corner right into Nathan’s arms.

Creed surprises Evans yet again, this time by catching Pat around the waist and dropping back into a bridging Northern lights suplex. Now Creed flips over backwards out of the bridge and onto his feet before reaching down and grabbing Evans’ legs. He lifts them into the air, steps through the turns him over into the Upset yet again.

Comeau: The Upset applied for a second straight time. Creed is going to earn that tap out here in Iron Submission, he is going to put himself up two tap outs to one, and he’s going to end this heated rivalry.

Nathan leans back into the hold as far as his body and damaged hand will allow him. Evans’ back is bent like a twig, and it’s about to snap like one too. He covers his face with both palms, shaking his head back and forth in a frantic fashion, trying to resist the urge to quit.

Mark: Can Evans fight through the pain, can he deny the temptation to tap?

Moore: If Charlie Chaplin was powerless against it, I think Evans will be too.

Pat’s face is a depiction of a man pushed to his brink but refusing to go over the edge. Although he would want nothing more than to tap and end his suffrage, he realizes there is no time left for him to play catch up. With four minutes left on the clock he’s got to make his move and make it now.

He pushes himself up onto the back of his head, staring at the foot of Creed which is surprisingly close to his hands. Evans reaches out and punches Nathan in the ankle several times before wrapping his arms around it. Creed is stunned as his leg is ripped out from beneath him, causing him to tumble forward and break the submission the second his fist strikes the canvas.

Evans rolls to his seat and stands up, lifting the leg into the ankle lock once more.

Comeau: Now the dreaded ankle lock applied, Creed is gonna have to tap.

Moore: I don’t think that’s possible on one leg, Mark. You big stupid head you.

Creed fights with everything he’s worth to prevent tapping to the ankle lock, but it may just be in vain. There may be no escaping the hold that Pat has perfected since his debut in the IWC. Creed realizes just like Evans that he cannot afford to tap out with time ticking down so quickly.

In a last ditch effort he rolls to his back and to a thunderous reaction kicks Evans off. He uses both boots, wedging them to Pat’s sternum to push him off and send him rolling backwards across the canvas.

Comeau: I’m amazed by Nathan’s perseverance, well, BOTH men’s perseverance in this grueling opening match to Riot!, a match that everyone in this building DEMANDED to see.

Moore: I didn’t, I’d much rather be watching Power Rangers.

Creed hobbles to his feet but blocks the pain in his ankle long enough to step up behind a rising Evans and wrap his arms around his waist, going for another German. Evans quickly drives the point of his elbow down into Nathan’s injured hand and then swings around it.

He pulls Creed’s arm behind his back into a hammerlock and begins to twist at the fingers until they begin snapping. Nathan drops to his seat with Evans falling to his knees behind him, still bending and almost breaking the fingers. Nathan chokes on the words “I Quit” his body refusing to allow him to say what his brain orders him to.

Comeau: And now Evan is right back on that hand. Good night Irene.

Moore: Who’s Irene and why does she get to take a nap when I have to snort a whole bottle of glue to stay conscious?

Creed starts to stand, wedging his feet beneath him even as Evans mangles the hand beyond all repair. Surprisingly, the second Creed reaches his feet he performs a standing switch. He steps behind Evans, catches him around the waist and falls back into the German suplex.

The back of Pat’s head connects with canvas and after a spin of the hips, Creed is right back on his feet, ready to deliver another German. He stands and hoists Evans into the air only for Pat to reach back with his legs, wrap them around Creed’s waist and tuck into a forward roll.

Nathan is pulled down into a roll up with Evans seated on his chest, holding down the back of his legs. Before he can even think about transitioning into a counter, Creed rolls back, pulling Evans over his chest so that he falls spine first to the canvas. Creed stands up, transitions to face the legs, steps through, and tries to lock in the Upset once again.

Mark: Brilliant, BRILLIANT counter by Creed, going to work on the legs once more with the Upset. And now that we’re at our two minute warning, if Nathan can score the submission that means victory may be academic.

Creed steps through the legs and is in the process of rolling Evans over, only to have Pat sit up, grab the ankle of his nemesis and hoist it into the air. Nathan almost falls back as Evans stands in front of him, trying to get the ankle lock applied.

Comeau: Evans once again reversing the Upset into the ankle lock. My God this has been a seesaw battle.

Moore: How dare you mention seesaws in my presence. You know I had a terrifying experience on one before. That fat kid seated on the other side had me suspended in the air for hours.

Mark: Sorry, I’ll try to be more conscious of your endless list of fears.

Nathan hops on one foot, trying to escape the impending doom while a smiling Evans stands up in front of him, realizing that he’s on the cusp of victory.

Creed now lunges into the air and nails a boot to the back of Evans’ skull, the enzugari leaving Pat more dazed than Margot Kidder. As his eyes roll to the back of his head Creed rushes backwards into the ropes, bounces off then launches himself forward into a big boot.

The boot nails barely grazes the top of Evans’ head. The technician ducked the inbound blow, shifted behind Creed and is now trying to trap his arms in position for the Time to Go to Sleep.

The fans are squealing like pigs before Creed drops to his knees and connects with almost a modified arm drag, flipping Evans over him and sending him rolling across the canvas. Pat ends up on his feet, looking as stunned as stunned can be after that unexpected counter.

Creed now comes charging in going for the lariat. Once again Evans counters, this time sidestepping Creed, switching behind his back and locking his arm in position for the Spinal Tap. He lifts him up into the air only for Creed to perform a standing switch, slip free and land behind his nemesis.

Evans spins around and has his legs ripped right out from under him. He collapses to his back just as Creed steps through them and sets for the submission that has already earned him one point tonight, but can it secure his victory? He takes that gamble once again, beginning to turn a frantic Evans over into his trademark hold, a move that has springboarded Nathan to success throughout his career. On this night it serves its function once again, putting to an end the long standing animosity, the bitter hatred that has lingered between these two men for so very long.

The referee drops into position, ready to question Evans the second he’s turned to his stomach and locked in the submission. The crowd stands, eager to watch the impending tap out and to see Nathan’s hand raised in victory.

It’s at this point, just as victory is all but a guarantee that a chair connects straight against skull. The blow almost splits Creed’s forehead wide open and sends his frame collapsing to the ring.

Comeau: BLAAAHHH!

Moore: Oh no, oh no, Mark has turned into Count Chocula.!

Nathan finds himself laying at the feet of one Johnny Kingdom, the Team Leader clutching the very weapon which snatched victory right from his clutches.

Mark: Johnny…..Johnny Kingdom….he just smashed Nathan right in the HEAD with that chair.

The Future’s twitching eyes are aimed towards the rafters and more importantly Kingdom’s face. The Team Leader continues to stand over the very man who may have assaulted him the week prior, and now Johnny seems intent on costing Creed, as much as he cost Kingdom.

Evans cannot help but to get some relief out of Johnny’s interference, Kingdom having impeccable timing by knocking Creed out and saving Pat from the Upset in the same fatal shot.

The inexperienced referee, who is still under the assumption that this match cannot end in anything but a submission, stands back grasping the thin fibers of his hair, powerless to do a thing. He shouts vainly for Kingdom to get out of the ring, but the emotionally distant Johnny isn’t going anywhere.

Before vacating the ring, Johnny turns, swings the chair and slams it right against Pat’s forehead. Evans now tumbles to the canvas like a slab of beef that was just pummeled by Rocky Balboa.

Comeau: And now Evans receiving a chair-shot!

Moore: Thank God I brought this shinny helmet in case Kingdom comes after us.

Mark: Susie, that’s not a helmet, it’s a bedpan.

Evans and Creed share one thing in common at this moment in time, their simultaneous struggle to remain conscious. NOW Kingdom leaves the ring, not doing it when he was ordered or when the crowd pleaded for him to, but when he was satisfied with his actions. No, scratch that.

Johnny stops half way through the ropes, takes one last look at the barely conscious Creed and re-enters the ring. Leaving Nathan with a splitting headache wasn’t enough, Johnny wanted him to experience REAL pain. He swoops in, chair still in hand and this time sits it up on the canvas.

Comeau: Now what does Kingdom have in mind?

Susie: Where to find inexpensive head wax?

With chair positioned in the ring, the driven Kingdom returns his focus to the individual he’s given no trial. The individual that he’s found guilty and sentenced to a lifetime of suffrage.

Nathan is like jelly in Kingdom’s arm as he is placed in the front chancery, hoisted from his kneeling base on the canvas and planted with the Exodus Finale directly on top of the chair.

Comeau: BRAINBUSTAH on that CHAIR!

The fans share in Mark’s mixture of shock and horror, watching the same scene unfold before their own eyes. Nathan writhes like a worm cornered by an army of ants. The splitting headache has intensified to a nuclear detonation inside of his skull.

Comeau: Kingdom exacting his wrath on the man who may very well have cost him the World Title last week, and doing so in a big way. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone given the Exodus Finale onto a chair like that.

Susie: I’ve seen something similar, when I was only pretending to hold the bride’s chair in the air at that Jewish wedding. How did I know her head was so soft and the floor was so hard?

Mark: Umm, logic?

FINALLY Kingdom is satisfied, at least a little. This time as he slips through the ropes, leaving the fans in shock and the referee in utter confusion, he looks back at the immobile Creed and nods. The Team Leader drops to the mats before starting up the ramp, leaving behind the individual who has assaulted him on TWO separate occasions. But even a Brainbuster DDT onto a CHAIR is nowhere near enough to constitute eye for an eye justice in Kingdom’s head.

He may be leaving the ring and marching up the ramp tonight, but he’s nowhere near transforming Creed’s life into a living misery.

Mark: Kingdom leaving, and leaving us in confusion, is the referee going to let this match continue?

Susie: I would.

Comeau: Yes, because you’re an idiot.

Time continues to trickle down on the clock, making the ref’s decision all the more urgent. He bites his knuckle, wondering what he should do given the condition of both athletes and the BLATANT interference that unfolded literally before his eyes.

Having no idea what to do he just allows the time to keep ticking away, perhaps out of some morbid curiosity to see what happens next. He stands back and watches once again as the clock nears closer and closer to zero.

Mark: What is the ref doing?

Neither Evans or Creed are in any type of condition to lock another submission on their rival. They just continue to lay spread across the canvas with the score all tied up.

Finally the buzzer sounds, and the clock reaches zero, with Evans nor Creed capable of locking in another submission to secure a victory. Instead, these long time rivals, will now have to settle for a draw.

Comeau: And the war ends in a stalemate?

Susie: Aww, they didn’t even have time to insert wise cracking doctors and cross dressing GI’s.

Comeau: After one of the most violent rivalries in recent memory, Pat Evans and Creed are left unable to finish off their opponent. I wish this had ended better for Nathan Creed, who was denied his revenge here tonight.

After one of the most physically intense matches of their careers, Evans and Creed find it difficult to stand, let alone celebrate. There isn’t much cause for celebration, given the extremely underhanded method in which this match just concluded.

He may almost be toppling over to his seat, but Evans still throws out his arms to his sides, gesturing to the many unsatisfied fans.

Comeau: The night getting underway with some bombshell announcements and some bombshell actions taken by Kingdom. The Iron Submission match ends in infamy and so to perhaps has this long standing issue between Creed and Evans.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

The video tron flickers to life, showing a shadowy figure. The camera pans around him.

"Years of depression, made me realize..."

It starts to rain on the figure.

"You all don't care about me anymore..."

Thunder and lightning claps.

"You made me see..."

The figure starts to walk, on an unknown ground.

"The truth..."

Lightning lands a few feet infront of the figure.

"But worry not..."

Lightning strikes a nearby tree, and forces it to fall, almost on the shadowed figure.

"I'm not going to give up on you..."

The rain suddenly stops, and is replaced with clear blue skies.

"Because I am that one little glimmer of hope..."

Birds are heard singing, as the man stops walking

"Even if I am... WASTED!"

The camera quickly pans around the man, shown as Simon Cagero, and does a closeup on his face.

Simon: I'm back... To save you from monotony, boredom, and the same melancholy IWC you grew up watching...

The camera backs up.

Simon: Next week, the Wasting begins... Are you ready?

The video tron fades to black

WTF!?!

Like a man taking a leisurely stroll through the park, Johnny Kingdom moves into the gorilla position backstage. Just as he exits the entrance tunnel and embarks on his journey to the lockeroom, Orlando Cruze throws up a roadblock with his body.

Orlando: What the hell was that!?! Huh? HUH!?! Why did you do that?

Cruze makes sure that Kingdom cannot get around him, and repeatedly gestures in the direction of the ring so that the Team Leader is reminded of his interference. Instead of providing some long drawn out explanation, Johnny shrugs and reduces his motivations to their most simplistic form.

Kingdom: It made me feel better.

The statement almost floors Cruze, who is almost at a loss for words.

Cruze: It made you feel better?

Johnny: Yep.

A palm slips down Orlando’s face as he tries to calm down.

Orlando: Did you not hear me when I said that I’m handling this situation? That I’m going to find out who attacked you…

Kingdom: No, of course I HEARD you, I just wasn’t paying attention.

Before the shocked Orlando can produce another word, Kingdom elaborates.

Johnny: What would be the point? Your not looking at this issue objectively….

Orlando: Of course I am.

Kingdom: Come off it!

Orlando’s fists instinctively ball up.

Kingdom: You have all this evidence pointing to Nathan Creed, and instead of suspending him, or better yet giving me a match against him, you refuse to accept the truth, pull a 180 and instead blame Christian.

Cruze tries to insert a rebuttal but the Team Leader isn’t hearing it.

Johnny: Now I understand that Savior is a snake, he can’t be trusted, which makes him such an easy target, but you’re NOT fooling me, or anyone for that matter. Pointing the finger at Christian, just because it makes things easier for you, isn’t going to make me forget that Creed was caught literally RED HANDED all those weeks ago. Savior may be human slime, but you can’t just convict him on his prior acts, and completely ignore all the evidence pointing to Creed.

Orlando: If your talking about that incident where you were supposed to be a lumberjack….

Kingdom: What else would I be talking about?

Cruze: Like you, I was quick to rush to judgment, but after talking to Nathan…..

Johnny: See, that’s your problem, your talking and not taking action.

Orlando: Don’t be such a Neanderthal, Johnny, you know above anyone else, that you need to think….

Kingdom: You’re not even doing that, Cruze, your not even thinking.

Orlando unleashes a sigh, realizing how much easier it would be to slap some sense into Kingdom instead of talking some sense into him.

Johnny: If you were thinking, if you were using your BRAIN you’d see through Creed’s BS, and realize that he’s using your friendship to influence your decision making.

Orlando: Creed isn’t swaying my decisions, we may be friends, but I didn’t base my accusation towards Christian off of that friendship. Nathan is STILL a suspect.

Kingdom: Alright, well you just keep on conducting your sham of an investigation….

Cruze: Ha-ha, it’s NOT a sham, Johnny, I’m telling you I’m putting all my effort into….

Johnny: Into obscuring the truth to protect, Nathan? Into accusing anyone but the man responsible for the attack?

Orlando: Just give me time….

Kingdom: That’s something I don’t have. I’m not going to let myself be victimized over and over again. If you refuse to take action against Nathan, I WILL.

Cruze: I can’t let you do that.

Johnny: Sure you can, just turn your head and ignore it like your doing for Creed.

A sigh exhales from Orlando.

Orlando: If you continue to interfere in matches I’ll have to take action.

Johnny was in the middle of walking away before he stops, a grin forming on his face.

Kingdom: Well then, if you have a problem with me, you can try and do something about it. In the main event, I’ll be in the ring, and you’ll be ringside, I don’t think you’ll have a better chance to protect your bosom buddy than tonight. Let’s see your true colors, Cruze. Let’s see you continue covering for Creed because of your personal bias against me. Go ahead, TRY and cost me the title and try to keep me away from Nathan.

The Team Leader starts down the corridor, leaving Orlando to stew in thought. What actions, if any, can he take to put an end to this potential explosion.

SCREW UP

The van doors fly open.

Almost immediately the figures inside are bombarded by the shear animosity of the fans. They pay no mind, far too preoccupied with matters of actual interest. Katie Steward is the first to exit, followed alongside by Paris Dannon. Robin Brooks brings up the tail end of the trio but doesn’t step out of the van. Instead she just crouches beside the wheel chair that Katelyn Buehler is strapped to.

With a gag in her mouth her words are indecipherable.

Billy: Katie, Paris, Robin, you asked me to meet you here?

An uber excited Billy Mayne steps out from behind the camera and past the pillars of the parking lot. He looks shaven and well kempt for a change, actually wearing a tuxedo as he swaggers towards the lovely ladies.

Mayne: And awww, how sweet, you brought me a present?

Billy waves to Katelyn in the back of the van. She tries to lift her hand to wave back but finds her wrist still strapped to the chair.

Katie: Get your mind out of the gutter.

Steward grabs the correspondent by the ear and turns his head towards her.

Steward: No associating with the prisoner, you’re here to ask questions, so hop to it. The sooner this is over, the better, your smell offends me.

Mayne sighs, once again reminded of the pungent aroma of his pits.

Billy: But I even wore Lady’s Speedstick.

Katie: It’s not working.

Paris: Billy? Did you brush your teeth for this interview?

The widest of grins forms on Billy’s face, bringing every misshapen pearly white into view.

Billy: Why don’t you get a little closer and find out for yourself?

His lips smooch and his eyes close while Katie and Paris fight to keep from upchucking. Their skin turns green, realizing that Billy got himself all gussied up in order to woo them. The changing color of their flesh demonstrates that Mayne wasted his time with bathing.

Robin: Enough!

Robin is just as appalled as her comrades in Team Desire as she barks orders and puts her arm over Katelyn’s shoulders.

Brooks: I believe we sent you a list of questions your permitted to ask.

Billy: And I have them in my pants. ‘Scuse me while a whip this out!

From his britches a note-card is removed.

Robin: Excellent, now ask.

Katie: And drop to your knees.

Mayne: What?

Paris: KNEEL!

Billy: Alright, alright. You guys are paying to have these pants cleaned though.

The malnourished bones in Billy’s body crack and pop as he drops to his knees before the Brat Pack.

Billy: Robin, I think everyone in the world, or any planet bearing humanoids for that matter, wants to know why you and Team Desire kidnapped Katelyn Buehler.

Robin acts as if she’s offended by the very question she supplied Billy with.

Robin: Isn’t it obvious!?!

Mayne: Yes.

Katie: Do not SPEAK!

The alcoholic is slapped on the back of his head.

Robin: Clearly I’m using her to make a statement to Hurse, but what is that message?

Billy shrugs and winces from Steward.

Brooks: Simple. I’m going to prove once and for all that this whole relationship between she and Steven, is no more than a ROUSE. The only reason Steven married Katelyn, was to get me jealous, everyone knows that. You don’t bag a squirrel when your hunting for a fox.

The rehearsed questions continue, Mayne reading them straight from the card, having made no effort to memorize them.

Billy: How do you intend to accomplish this?

Katie: God, you really do suck at this? Where’s TJ Johnson? He’s the only one allowed to legally interview me.

Robin: Kate, please.

Steward takes a breathe, getting over her outrage.

Robin: Now that I have Katelyn in my possession I’m going to force Hurse to fight, to fight to get her back.

Billy: How?

Brooks: I have a list of demands, and if Hurse fails to live up to even a single one of them he will never be reunited with Buehler.

Mayne: So he won’t get Katelyn back until he’s fulfilled every demand?

Robin: Yep, but everyone knows he won’t make it past my first demand, he won’t even try, and that’s the point. This little exercise is going to prove once and for all that he doesn’t really care about Katelyn. She’s just a prop to him, a plot point, a tool. He won’t fight for her, he’ll give up the moment things become difficult. Why fight for someone you don’t even love?

Brooks brushes the hair off of Katelyn’s shoulder and puts her hand there.

Brooks: Why go through the trouble when there’s no real reward?

Billy: So what’s your first demand?

Robin: Actually it’s really simple, even for Steven. Not that I need him, nor do I expect he’ll even follow through, but if he REALLY wants Buehler back, he’ll make sure I leave with the World Title TONIGHT.

The obligatory pantomiming of a title belt is made across Robin’s abs.

Brooks: And should he fail, weeellllll…let’s just say he won’t be getting back the Katelyn Buehler that he’s learned to “adore.”

Yes, quotation fingers were used.

The snide, somewhat threatening comment elicits smiles on the faces of the Brat Pack members. As Brooks exits the van and slams the doors shut, the muffled screams of Buehler can be heard from within. Katie steps around towards the driver’s seat, talking to the figure behind the wheel. Autumn Daniels listens with a roll of her eyes.

Steward: You know what to do.

Autumn: Ohhhhh yeah, you bet I do.

Katie: Not THAT you sick-o, we still need her in one piece.

Autumn: Awww, you girls are no fun.

Daniels starts the van and it pulls away from the rest of Team Desire, the trio confidently strolling into the Manhattan Center. They leave Billy behind, kneeling against the pavement.

Mayne: I can’t believe I shaved my legs for THIS, what a waste.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

A roulette table slowly spins, a ball bouncing from one number to another.

Risking It All

The commercial briefly flashes to Christian Savior nailing a spear to the ribs of Johnny Kingdom.

Five cards hit a green table, forming a full house.

Winning it Big

Nathan Creed briefly consumes the screen with blood streaming down his face and his thumb intensely sliding across his throat.

Red dice roll across the table, landing on snake eyes.

There is no Risk

A maniacal Black Cat is now shown, soaring through the air with a 450 splash.

There is no Reward

A slot machine is shown dispensing a number of coins.

Until You Up The Ante

Robin Brooks nails a superkick, Psycho powerbombs an opponent through a table, Pat Evans rips at the throat of an opponent with the Time to Go to Sleep. All these images are briefly shown before one final message consumes the screen.

IWC: Upping the Ante
Live from the Hard Rock Café in Las Vegas

IN THE RING

The cameras pan over the screaming fans upon returning from commercial, Mark and Susie’s voices heard in the background.

Comeau: Welcome back to Riot! on a night that continues to get more and more tumultuous by the moment.

Moore: Tumultuous? You mean we’re going to be attacked by tomatoes?

Mark: You need to purchase a dictionary.

Susie: Does it have pictures?

The show cuts to the interior of the ring where Kailey Worf is standing, looking as excited as the teeming masses.

Kailey: Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time to reveal the results of your on-line and text voting for our title contenders contest.

The reaction is louder than a ten gun salute.

Kailey: The following contest will be a TRIPLE THREAT match in which the winner will receive a title shot of YOUR choosing. Let’s begin by showing the options.

A picture of the World Title appears on the Cartel-Tron, receiving cheers. An image of the Submission Title gold pops up, getting an equally as big pop. And finally the Cartel Title is revealed, eliciting boos from the audience, not so quick to forgive the championship for its past treachery.

Kailey: And here is the result of your votes….the winner of the match will receive a shot at….

The calculations are made and totaled on the big screen beneath each belt. That’s when it’s revealed that BOTH the Cartel and World Titles receives 40% of the vote each, tying them.

Comeau: Whoa. What does this mean now? According to the votes the World and Cartel Championship title shots have TIED.

Susie: Yay, everyone wins, we should get trophies too just so that EVERYONE is happy.

A stagehand at ringside talks into his headset, perhaps getting a message from Orlando Cruze backstage. He now looks through the ropes and begins talking to Kailey. After they consult for a moment she steps back, raises the mic to her smiling face and confidently makes her announcement.

Kailey: According to our President Orlando Cruze, the following triple threat match will now be a TWO FALLS match, in which the first fall will decide the World Title contendership, and the second fall will be a Cartel Title contendership!

A massive pop is elicited from the crowd, on board with getting two for the price of one.

Comeau: There we go, Orlando Cruze thinking quick on his feet and altering the course of this triple threat encounter. We’re now going to get TWO falls in this upcoming match.

Moore: TWO? TWO!?! Why are we emphasizing that word so much?

SEAN JOHNSON VS. PORNO LAD VS. AURORA ROSE
CONTENDERS TRIPLE THREAT

The lyrics of Sean Johnson’s entrance theme bombards the speakers and the Cartel-Tron switches to images of the Griffin, whether is be him celebrating victory, nailing the Titanic kick and celebrating with Poopers. From the backstage area emerges Johnson himself, carrying a little cage with Poopers inside. He points out over the fans, who shower him with praise, very eager to see what he brings to the table here tonight with a World Title shot on the line. He finally reaches the ring, places the caged Pooper on the apron then slides in himself. After hopping to a turnbuckle he lifts his arms up high, garnishing an even louder reaction from the crowd.

Comeau: Johnson’s chances of leaving here tonight with a number one contenders shot have just increased significantly. Instead of there being one pin, there’ll be two in this contest. There’s a very real possibility that the Griffin will leave the ring after this match as a contender for the World Title.

Susie: He’ll finally get his hands on one of those bright and shinnies.

Mark: He won’t actually get the title if he wins this match, Susie, he’ll just get a shot at winning the title.

Moore: This is so confusing. Instead of calling the match can I just braid Poopers fur?

Sean is kneeling beside the cage, seemingly talking strategy to Poopers while….

The words “How about I just do whatever I want” boom through the arena speakers and then Original Prankster blasts through the speakers. Porno Lad steps out from behind the curtain wearing an expensive white leather jacket. Surprisingly, the only thing he’s accompanied to the ring by tonight, are his two title belts, the earned N.H.B championship, and the stolen X-Class gold.

Until the break of dawn
Life, life, cannot go by the letter
Time, time, Prozac can make it better
Noise, noise, any kind will do
Can you feel it slip away, well it's all on you

As he walks he smirks confidently pointing to the crowd and then shaking his head in an expression that just says “you just want to be like me.” He rubs the N.H.B title belt wrapped around his neck all the while, showing it off to the screaming fans.

Crime, crime, rockin' like Janet Reno
Time, time, eighteen and life in Chino
Freud, Freud, all alone it's true
Well you see the coming day catches up to you, yeah

Porno lad stops and throws out his arms in conjunction with an explosion of pyrotechnics that rock the staging area.

CHORUS:
Knock down the walls-
It's alive in you
Knock down the place-
You're alone it's true
Knock down the world-
It's alive in you
You're gonna keep your head up through it all
You're gonna bust out on it-
Original Prankster
Break out, yeah-
Original, yeah
Bust out on it-
Original Prankster
You'll never stop now, stop now, that's what the main men say

Comeau: Porno Lad hitting the ring and he’s all decked out in gold already….

Moore: He’s gonna have a title overdose, which means I’ll get to inherit all his belts right?

Mark: I’m sure he hasn’t added you to his will, yet, Susie. Anyway Porno Lad may have a lot of titles already, but only one of them is actually his, the N.H.B Championship. I think Jackson Adams will be looking to get back the other one here tonight.

Porno Lad extends his hand towards Johnson, who gives the outstretched palm a repulsed glare.

Sean: Um, no offence, but I don’t know where your hand has been.

Porno Lad sniffs his palm as “Open Wounds” by Skillet takes over the PA system and Aurora Rose makes her presence felt. She steps to the stage, raises her fist into a rock gesture and gets a reaction as loud as one would expect. She now rushes down the ramp, looking all fired up by the prospect of receiving yet another World Title or Cartel Championship opportunity. She hops to the apron, careful to avoid Poopers, back flips over the top rope and once again lifts her fist into a rock gesture.

Comeau: And here’s the vixen returning from a short hiatus, and what a big opportunity she’s presented with right from the get-go.

Susie: This is so perplexing. On one hand I have feelings for Porno Lad and want to see him win, but on the other hand Aurora Rose has a vagina, and people with vaginas should ALWAYS win.

Mark: Well, maybe they’ll both walk away from this match with something to show for it.

Moore: Action figures?

Comeau: Who knows.

Johnson, Porno Lad, and Rose all three hunker down and begin circling one another. Their fingers twiddle in the air, ready for a three way lock up. That’s when Johnson breaks the farce, delivering a boot to Aurora’s ribs then placing her in a side headlock. He charges her straight at Porno Lad, trying to use her as a battering ram.

That’s when the prankster lungs into the air, grabbing Johnson’s shoulder with both hands and flipping over it. He drops down over the back of Aurora and catches her around the waist, pulling her out of the side headlock and down into a sunset flip style pin.

1

Sean turns around, steps in and wraps his arms around Porno Lad’s neck, placing him in a sleeper hold. He drags him out of the pinning predicament and to his feet in the submission hold.

He twists PL back and forth, trying to ring the life out of the N.H.B Champion’s body. That’s when Porno Lad drops to his seat and hits a modified jaw breaker, freeing himself from the submission.

The Griffin pops up to his feet, hands wrapped around his jaw in a stunned state. As Porno Lad turns to his elbows and knees, Aurora comes charging in, stepping off of his back and launching herself into a flying leg lariat. Her hip and thigh nails Sean to his sternum, knocking him backwards into a turnbuckle.

Comeau: This action starting fast paced as we….well….I…knew it would. All three of these competitors know just how big this match is. Only in the IWC will you see a World Title contendership with this type of action.

Moore: I think it be better if we had free donkey rides in every segment, or at the very least another tea party.

An exhilarated Aurora stands up, feeding off the raw emotion of the audience then goes charging at the prone Griffin in the corner. She hops into the air and nails a step up knee strike to the jaw, then glances over her shoulder and spots Porno Lad charging in.

She lunges into the air, landing on top of Johnson’s shoulders feet first then back flips over the inbound Porno Lad. As she flips over him, Porno Lad dives into Sean with a big lariat. He lands seat first on the middle rope in the process of nailing the lariat, then wraps his arm around Johnson’s neck and pulls him down out of the corner.

Johnson rolls towards the center of the ring while Aurora comes barreling up behind Porno Lad. That’s when he drops back, catapulting his legs over the top rope and nailing Aurora to the face with both of his shins.

The blow sends Aurora stumbling backwards, flailing her arms in the process in an attempt to remain upright. Porno Lad slips all the way through the cables to the apron, turning around and grabbing the top cable which he prepares to spring to.

He lunges into the air, prepared for the springboard when Johnson wedges his hands to Aurora’s lower back and shoves her straight at their common foe. She ends up hitting the ropes with her head nailing PL to the jaw, knocking him out of the air and sending him crashing to the outside mats.

Aurora is once again staggering, twisting around this time into the waiting arms of a recovered yet still groggy Johnson. He hoists her into the air then delivers a spinning spinebuster. Rose is driven VIOLENTLY into the canvas before Sean eagerly hooks the legs.

Mark: The Griffin on the verge of winning a possible World Title shot.

Susie: Good, I think the Cartel Title would just get in his ear and end up corrupting him. Johnson is too much of a sweetheart to be manipulated like that.

The N.H.B Champion tries to regain his senses on the outside mats, holding his jaw and trying to readjust it. Meanwhile inside of the ring Sean takes Rose by the bangs, rolling her to her knees before delivering a hard right hand to her forehead. Aurora tumbles to her back then rolls towards the cables.

She falls against them and desperately tries to get up as Johnson comes charging in. He bends forward to deliver a spear when Aurora turns her back to Sean, and falls spine against spine. She flips over the back of Johnson and lands on her feet behind him while Sean continues forward into the cables.

His head goes through the top and middle ropes just as Porno Lad leaps to the apron delivering a front dropkick to his temple. The blow causes Sean to spin around back towards the center of the ring when Aurora wraps her arm around his neck, setting up for the Sinful Desire.

Mark: The Punk Rock Princess may just cement her return to the ring in a big way by becoming a World Title contender, and it’s all thanks to these fans.

Susie: I like the fans too, they’re always sending me their letters, and once I complete my Hooked On Phonics I’ll be able to read them.

Aurora rushes towards the ropes, on the verge of connecting with her most powerful maneuver when Sean wedges his hands to her back and shoves her off. Aurora charges into the cables, bounces off of them spine first and ricochets into a boot to the ribs. Johnson doubles her over then hooks both arms, setting up for the pedigree variation.

The fans are squealing, realizing that now Sean is on the verge of claiming that coveted World Title shot. That’s when Sean’s plot backfires, his arms being hooked from behind as he’s dragged into a backslide by Porno Lad. The Prankster bends down from his feet instead of his knees for added leverage.

1

2

The crowd is about to erupt as Porno Lad comes within a fraction of a second of earning a World Title shot. That hope is dashed thanks to Aurora, who grabs PL around the thigh and pulls him down into a school boy.

1

2

Aurora just can’t hold on long enough to keep Porno Lad down for the full count. He gets his shoulder up and keeps his World Title hopes alive in this very frantically paced encounter.

Comeau: Pinfall after pinfall. These three really putting in there all over that World Title. Just like last week when we had that three way, ironically for the number one contendership as well.

Moore: I think everyone should just be named number one contender, me too.

Porno Lad rolls backwards and onto his feet before he charges straight at Aurora. She drops to her stomach and rolls towards his ankles, causing PL to have to hop over her and dive towards the rising Johnson. Sean bends forward, catching the N.H.B Champion against his shoulder, hoisting him into the air for a spinning spinebuster.

Somehow Porno Lad is able to shove himself off of the shoulder though, landing on his feet directly in front of the Griffin. He charges at Sean who throws a lariat, causing the Prankster to have to duck as he continues charging forward. He runs right into a boot to the face from Aurora though, causing him to stand up straight in a dazed state. All the while Aurora goes charging backwards into the ropes, bouncing off and going after her dazed opposition.

Johnson steps up behind Porno Lad at the same time, hooking his leg and setting him up for a Russian Leg Sweep. Aurora spots this and changes up her move at the last second, leaping into the air and over the head of Johnson. She catches him around the neck and pulls him down into a blockbuster at the same time that Sean delivers the Russian Leg Sweep on Porno Lad.

Mark: Ohhh, what an interesting combination of moves, leading to all three competitors being taken out.

Aurora possesses the energy still to roll into a lateral press on Johnson. Each slap of the ref’s hand to the canvas brings her closer and closer to a World Title match.

1

2

Sean launches a shoulder from the ring, avoiding the three count by mere milliseconds. Aurora rises to her feet while Porno Lad does the same, gripping at his kidneys all the while. That’s when Aurora leaps over Johnson and lands right on top of PL’s shoulder.

She is going for a hurricarana only to have PL push her off by the back of the thighs, sending her flipping over in reverse. She flips over the laid out Sean who rolls directly into Porno Lad’s shins, knocking his legs out from under him. The N.H.B Champion collapses to his elbows and knees with Aurora charging into the cables beside him.

She bounces off the cables then flips forward into a senton leg drop across the back of PL’s head.

Susie: Awww, why is everyone bullying my precious Porno Lad?

Mark: He knew the risk getting into this match.

Moore: I don’t think he realized his hair was going to be messed up, otherwise he never would have competed in this match.

Porno Lad rolls to his back, gripping at his neck in the process while Aurora struggles to her feet. She now spots Johnson standing up in front of her, prompting Rose to charge straight at his backside. She catches him around the neck then leaps into the air, wedging her feet to the top rope for the Sinful Desires. Once again Johnson counters her finishing move, wedging his hands to her lower back and pushing up on it.

Aurora flips backwards over Sean’s shoulder and lands on her feet behind him. She begins to charge in when Johnson spins around and nails the Titanic Kick. The blow sends Aurora flying back, splattering across the canvas before rolling to the outside mats.

Comeau: A vicious Titanic Kick connects but Aurora showing her veteran instincts, knowing where she is in the ring at all times and knowing to get out of it in order to prevent being pinned.

Johnson is disgruntled that Rose got away, prompting him to turn his focus towards a struggling Porno Lad. The mischievous one exerts all his energy to rise to his feet, turning sluggishly into a boot to the ribs. Johnson doubles Porno Lad over and hooks the arms, going for the pedigree.

Suddenly Porno Lad spins his body out of the predicament and takes Johnson by the wrist, pulling him forward into a short arm clothesline. He ducks it then sets up for the Titanic kick, waiting for Porno Lad to spin into his deadly move.

The Prankster turns around and Sean goes to unleash the kick, his boot almost meeting his opposition’s jaw. Somehow Porno Lad catches Johnson around the ankle just before it could connect. He now pushes down on it, sending Sean into a full circle. When the Griffin turns back to face Porno Lad the Epic Fail is delivered. Porno Lad’s spinning superkick lands to the side of Johnson’s head and sends him plummeting like a sack of potatoes to the canvas.

Comeau: Johnson went for the Titanic Kick but ended up tasting the soul of Porno Lad’s boot instead.

Susie: I’ve tasted that boot before, it’s way too minty.

Sean convulses as Porno Lad drops into the cover, hooking both legs and desperately shouting for the official to make the count. Scab referee Gray drops to the canvas and slaps the ring.

1

2

3

The building rumbles with applause, everyone standing simultaneously to shower Porno Lad with praise.

Susie: YAY, YAY, YAY, YAY, YAY…I can’t stop…YAY, YAY..

Mark: Here, breathe into this plastic bag. Porno Lad just won himself a shot at the World Heavyweight Title! As if this man needed even more championship opportunities.

Porno Lad rolls out of the ring and continues to celebrate, the fans rallied behind him, realizing that he’s going to move on and challenge for the championship at a later date.

Comeau: Well, by virtue of winning the World Title shot, Porno Lad takes himself out of the running for Cartel Title contendership. That means that this match now comes down to Sean Johnson versus Aurora Rose, the winner moving on to claim an opportunity at Cartel gold.

With the crowd still cheering his name Porno Lad stops on the stage and bows to them, thanking the crowd for giving him this opportunity, an opportunity he capitalized on in a big way. As the original prankster steps through the curtains, Aurora slips through the ropes.

She grips at her jaw and eyes the laid out Johnson, Sean still not moving after tasting the Epic Fail. Rose realizes this is her opportunity to strike. She crawls across the ring and dives into the lateral press on Johnson, no rest period being given for the Griffin to recover.

Official Gray falls to the ring, slapping the canvas.

1

2

To the shock of just about everyone in the building, Johnson kicks out.

Mark: I guess Sean had enough time to recover I guess, kicking out after Aurora tried to capitalize on Porno Lad’s Epic Fail.

Moore: How dare she. That’s it, I’m taking her off my MySpace.

Aurora takes Sean by the hair, rolling him to his knees and blasting him repeatedly over the back with clobbering blows. She is absolutely desperate to obtain that Cartel Title shot, to walk away from this match with her head held high. She realizes that there is no greater opportunity than now to achieve that hope.

Aurora rushes backwards into the cables, bounces off and comes back in at Sean, who surprisingly stands up, catching his inbound opponent. Rose swings around into a head scissors before surprisingly dropping to her feet, doubling the Griffin over into a front chancery.

She snaps back into a DDT, planting the top of the Griffin’s head to the canvas and sending him rolling to his back. Rose crawls into yet another lateral press, hoping her move was enough to achieve victory.

1

2

NO! Johnson once again deprives her of the Cartel Title number one contendership.

Mark: Johnson still hanging in there even after he was knocked near unconscious by that kick from Porno Lad.

Aurora punches the canvas in a fit before grabbing Sean by the wrist, using all her strength to drag him towards the nearby turnbuckle. He is left sprawled across the canvas in a perfectly prone position for Aurora who turns to the corner, jumps to the top rope and connects with a split legged moonsault.

She crashes across the Griffin’s sternum and once again hooks his leg for the three count.

1

2

Yet again Sean kicks out, the crowd going bonkers.

Mark: How in the hell is Sean continuing to hang in there?

Moore: Maybe he’s secretly that kitten on that one poster gripping the clothesline.

Comeau: How is that even….ah fuck it.

Despite all the punishment he’s endured thus far, Sean is turning to his side, trying to get up. Aurora steps in nailing forearm shiver after forearm shiver to the side of his skull, further disorientating him and rattling his brain. Nothing will stop Sean from standing up though, he gets to his feet just as Aurora lunges into the air and nails a knee to the side of his skull.

The blow knocks Johnson back first into the turnbuckle, leaning on it for support. His arms fall over the cables with his eyes glazed over, the ropes the only thing keeping him upright. That’s when Aurora comes charging in with a scream, a roar so loud and primal that the fans can’t help but to react to it.

Aurora lunges to the air, wedges her feet to Sean’s stomach and drops back for the monkey flip. Somehow Sean is able to keep his arms wrapped around the top rope though, causing Aurora to flip back and land on her knees. Johnson quickly steps up the turnbuckle in reverse, standing on the second rope and reaches down, grabbing Aurora’s arms.

Before she can counter, Sean hoists Aurora up onto the bottom rope and connects with the Extreme Pedigree out of the turnbuckle. The fans are absolutely astounded as Aurora’s face collides with the canvas and her body flops to its back.

Coemau: What a counter, WHAT a COUNTER!

Susie: I hope Aurora knows a good plastic surgeon, if not I have a whole list of them.

Sean’s damaged, banged up body drops onto Aurora’s sternum, hooking her leg for the three count. The scab official slaps the canvas and brings the fans out of their seats.

1

2

3

The whole building rattles thanks to the reaction.

Comeau: And Sean Johnson has finally done it. He’s won himself a number one contendership! He’s that much closer to realizing his goal of becoming champion.

Despite his aches and pains, Sean sits up celebrating the win as best he can. He raises a fist and winces from the pain in his muscles, but his emotion trumps the anguish.

Mark: Johnson will now go on to challenge for the Cartel Title at a time and place of his choosing, and it’s all thanks to these fans.

Susie: Can’t Aurora get a title shot too? Maybe I can make a belt out of macaroni and glitter and give it to her.

Comeau: Aurora put in a hell of an effort tonight but just came up short.

Sean employs the ropes to force himself to his feet, fist pumping towards the heavens and the crowd chanting his name. Johnson drops to his knees, looking through the bars of Poopers’ cage, thinking the feline subspecies for the motivational speech it gave him before the match.

SELFISHNESS

The well placed camera picks up what was supposed to be a secret rendezvous between one Jackson Adams and “The Rising Phoenix” Christian Savior. Of course now their meeting is anything but secret, but their whispers remain indecipherable. They chat back and forth outside the lockeroom, Adams making some type of sales pitch.

Hurse: Adams, ADAMS!

Hurse is so out of breath he can barely speak. He stoops over beside his long time comrade, huffing and wheezing.

Hurse: Adams, Adams, Adams, Adams, Adams….

Jackson: WHAT!?!

JA finally stops speaking with Savior long enough to acknowledge his friend’s presence. The aggravation of hearing Steven’s voice was just too much to tolerate.

Hurse: Where have you been? I’ve been running around here like a bitch in heat trying to find you.

The metaphor doesn’t sit well with Jackson.

Hurse: And why are you talking to my opponent!?!

With a heaving chest and a sweaty brow, Hurse points at the smiling Savior. Despite everything that has already transpired tonight, Christian is still able to produce his calculating grin.

Savior: Jackson….

Christian pretends as if Hurse is non-existent.

Christian: Your on.

The former World Champion backs away from Adams, and gives one fleeting glance towards his opponent for later tonight. Hurse watches him leave, wearing a repulsed expression all the while. Once Savior’s out of hearing range, Hurse picks up where he left off.

Hurse: Alright, FINE, I don’t even want to know why you were talking to Christian.

Adams: Of course you do.

Hurse: Yeah….true…..but you can fill me in after I’m done beating him. Why haven’t you been answering my text messages? Huh? Huh!?!

Adams puts his palm on Hurse’s chest, trying to calm him down.

Jackson: Relax, I’ve just been busy taking care of our Porno Lad problem.

Hurse: Porno Lad? Who cares about him!?!

Adams: Uhhh, hello, me. He stole my title. And after he knocked you out at Paranoia, you should be too.

Hurse: He didn’t knock me out, I just had a serious inner ear infection. But Porno Lad doesn’t matter, at least not tonight. I’ve been trying to get us together so we could plan Katelyn Buehler’s escape.

Now Adams is the one who looks all out of sorts.

Jackson: Wait?

JA desperately attempts to get into Hurse’s head.

Jackson: You mean to tell me that all the messages you left on my phone have NOTHING to do with my stolen title belt?

Hurse: Why should they? We’ve GOT to get Buehler back from Robin and her hoe-train, that takes precedence over everything else.

All Adams can do is pinch the flesh between his eyes and shake his lowered head.

Adams: Are you that high off your ass?

Hurse pauses to remember if he ingested any narcotics, but his thoughts are interrupted by his angry cohort.

Jackson: I don’t care about Katelyn. I don’t care if she was kidnapped. There’s only ONE kidnapping I’m concerned with and it involves my stolen belt!

No words can interpret Hurse’s shock.

Adams: I have no desire to help you find nor save Katelyn, Robin can do whatever she wants to her while I’m getting back my gold.

Hurse: But….but…I need you...

Jackson: Too bad!

The Master of Control is anything but living up to his moniker, ready to rip hair from his head out of fear. The X-Class Champion continues to unload.

Jackson: I can’t believe you would be more concerned with some skank, that your only using to get into Robin’s head, when my championship is in jeopardy. This is my belt we’re talking about, MY BELT!

Jackson’s lower lip trembles with anger.

Adams: So if you want Katelyn back, if you want to stick to this stupid act, then by all means, go ahead, but don’t get me into the middle of this shit-storm.

The departing Adams leaves his associate with much to think about, Hurse forced to ask himself rather Katelyn is truly worth it.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

"DO YOU LIKE SEX?"

A video clip is shown of Simon Cagero, kissing a female fan

"DO YOU LIKE BEER?!"

A picture is shown, where Simon Cagero is holding up a beer, and smiling at the camera.

"DO YOU LIKE PARTIES?!"

A picture is shown of Too Magnificent, looking as constipated as ever

"IWC DOESN'T LIKE THEM!"

A video comes up, of Simon Cagero standing confidently on the stage

"THE ONLY MAN WHO WILL FIGHT FOR WHAT IS JUST!"

Simon: SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMOOOOOOOONNNNN CAAAAAAAGGEEEEERRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOO!

"HE BELIEVES IN WHAT'S JUST!"

The screen fades to black, as a message is conveyed over the speaker

"This message has been paid for by Simon Cagero, and does not reflect his views or interests in any way shape or form. Any people who were mocked in this commercial were just that, mocked because they suck balls, and deserve to be."

TOO MAGNIFICENT VS. MAX CRAVEN
POLE MATCH

The show comes back live to the interior of the ring where a pole is set up beside the ring. Kailey Worf once again occupies the center of the squared circle, mic in hand and smile on her face.

Mark: Welcome back to what has been a HUGE edition of Riot! thus far as we now prepare ourselves for the first pole match in IWC history.

Moore: So the object of this match is for me to dance around it?

Comeau: No, the object of the match is for one of the competitors to climb the pole and grab the weapon hanging from it to use against their opponent. Will it be Too Magnificent’s trademark trash-can, or will it be a weapon of Max Craven’s choice? Let’s see how the fans voted.

Kailey lifts the mic to her lips, ready to make her announcement as all attention shifts to the titantron.

Kailey: Ladies and gentlemen the time has come to reveal the results of your text and on-line voting for the POLE MATCH!

There are some cheers, but mostly jeers, the Manhattanites not the biggest fans of matches involving poles. On the Cartel-Tron, two images appear side by side, a trash can and a mystery sack. Numbers appear beneath both objects, the calculations beginning. Predictably the fans are in favor of Craven’s weapon, winning with a whopping 90% of the total votes!

Mark: Craven winning in a landslide!

Moore: I hope he picks an anvil.

Comeau: Now Max will get to choose whatever weapon he wishes to dish out revenge on Too Mag.

Some generic entrance music hits the PA system, ushering Too Magnificent forth to the stage. He is not wearing wrestling attire, apparently not being supplied with any when he arrived at the building. That doesn’t matter to Too Magnificent however as he begins his long march down the stage, kicking away the hand of a fan extended over the barricade. He climbs the stairs and steps over the top rope, giving Kailey a menacing glare.

Comeau: Last week we were all caught off guard by Too Magnificent, when he attacked Axl Evermore unprovoked. We’ve still not received much in the way of an explanation from him, but his opponent won’t be looking for answers tonight, he’ll be out for retribution.

Susie: He should be out picking up an anvil dammit.

Kailey rushes from the ring, leaving the Magnificent One in the center, anxiously anticipating his opponent. Scab Official Harris waits in the background for Craven as well, so that he can get this contest underway.

The house lights melt down to black as a major-key alto-soprano Gregorian chant begins...but instead of an actual Gregorian chant, they talk-sing the following...

I-RA-TUUUUS...ANTI MAAAAACHINAAAAAA...DEEEEEUUUUUS...EEEEEX MAAAAACHINAAAAA...IN MAX WE TRUUUUUUST...AT THE CHUUUUUURRRRRCH...OF HOT ADDIIIIIIIICTIONNNNNN...

It cross-fades into "Church of Hot Addiction" by Cobra Starship, and the lights begin flashing green, gold, white, and black. The Cartel-Tron, meanwhile, shows green code raining down on a black background, forming words and phrases to match the chants. Max Craven steps to the stage, this time without his robe and microphone clutched in hand.

Mark: And here comes the man set to avenge what happened to his partner last week. We’re about to find out what weapon he’ll use to dish out said vengeance.

Susie: I think he should just drop a grand piano on Too Mag’s head, unless his opponent has an umbrella to protect himself.

Comeau: I don’t think there’s anything that Too Magnificent can use to protect himself from Craven tonight.

Craven steps to the stage and instead of doing his usual extended entrance he stops on the stage and lifts a microphone to his lips.

Max: I really am disappointed in you, Too Magnificent.

Too Mag’s eyebrow raises.

Craven: I thought you were at least smart enough to have learned that feuding with Sex & Violence is an exercise in futility. You do understand the concept of “exercising” correct? Given the rotund shape of your stomach and your flabby, Ric Flair-esque man-titties I don’t think you have.

Too Magnificent feels his bosom.

Max: So not only are you targeting a group your unable to beat, but your doing it while completely out of shape? What? Did you sit around on your ass during your hiatus eating vanilla wafers and blubbering over the movies on Lifetime? Just how desperate for cash are you to come out of retirement in the worse shape of your career and pick up where you left off, jobbing to me? Did your food-stamp supply run dry? No longer receiving those FAT social security checks? Did your momma kick you out of the basement and tell you to get a job? Who put you up to this Too Mag? What enticed you to take part in this most fool-hearty of endeavors?

It almost gives Craven a migraine trying to figure out what Too Mag must have been thinking.

Craven: Alright, nevermind, not important. It’s not going to matter after this match is all said and done and your thoroughly humiliated enough to go back into seclusion. What the fans want to know is what weapon I’ll be suspending from the Russo Pole and using to pummel your gelatinous ass into oblivion.

Chuckles are now elicited from Too Magnificent.

Max: But the crowd is asking the wrong question, because it’s not “what” weapon I’ll be using, but “who” I’ll be using as a weapon?

Mark: Huh?

Craven: The object I’ve decided to hang from the pole tonight, is a weapon that I got on loan from the SCW…….MITCH DOOGAN!

Comeau: BLUH?

Moore: YAY!

Through the curtains strolls the most powerful of jobbers, Doogan holding a half eaten hotdog and wearing a stunned expression on his face.

Doogan: You didn’t tell me this is how you were going to use my SUPREEEEEEEMME POWWWAAHH!

Craven: Yeah, yeah, yeah enough over-emphasized catchphrases, finish that hotdog I bribed you with and get your ass on the pole.

Mitch: I knew that line would come back to haunt me.

Too Magnificent obviously has no earthly idea what to make of this situation. The last thing he thought he’d have to defend himself from was Doogan.

Mark: Mitch Doogan being selected as Craven’s weapon on the pole. Did those words just come from my mouth?

Moore: Maybe, or maybe you’re just a ventriloquist’s dummy.

Comeau: I have no clue how this is going to work.

Doogan rolls into the ring and climbs the turnbuckle, wrapping his hands around the pole and scaling to the top. Once their he puts the collar of his shirt over the hook. The crowd chuckles at the sight of Doogan hanging from the back of his shirt, suspended high above the turnbuckle. Too Magnificent is still trying to make sense of the situation.

Before he can spend anymore time dwelling on it, he looks up in time to spot Craven springing from the top rope and flying straight at him. Unfortunately for Craven, he lands directly in the palm of his opposition, caught around the throat.

His face goes white as Too Magnificent hoists him into the air, ready to slam him ever so violently into the canvas when Craven counters with a knee strike to his jaw. The crowd is astounded by the counter that has sent Too Mag stumbling backwards into the cables.

Comeau: A unique counter by Craven to the chokeslam, as this match gets under….WHOA!

Mark cuts himself off in mid-sentence as Craven bounces off of the far ropes and comes charging back at Too Mag only to run into a big boot that twists him inside out.

Mark: What a devastating boot!

Susie: That may have given Craven a smaller nose than Michael Jackson. I keep my original nose in a jar.

Max is spread across his stomach, gasping for air after that deadly boot knocked him near unconscious. Too Mag steps right past him, looking to use his weapon of choice against him. The masochist climbs the turnbuckle and reaches up grabbing Doogan’s ankle, trying to pull him down. Mitch encourages him, promising Too Mag that he can use his supreme power to decimate Max.

To Too Mag’s chagrin his boot was not nearly enough to finish Max off. Craven is back on his feet and is now rushing at his opponent’s backside, delivering a powerful basement dropkick to his bum. Too Mag is launched over the top rope and slams forehead first into the pole. He bashes off of the steel, twists and spills to the mats.

Comeau: Now it’s Too Magnificent’s face being pulverized by tasting the steel post.

Moore: All these wrestlers must have serious eating disorders.

Mark: Erm, yeah, again I think you’re the last person who should be bashing others for their eating habits.

A knot is forming on Too Magnificent’s forehead as he crashes to his back across the very thin mats. He sluggishly starts to stand up as Craven climbs the turnbuckle, reaching the very top of it. He grabs Doogan’s leg, trying to pull him down and off of the pole.

That’s when he spots Too Mag beginning to stand up outside the squared circle. This prompts Max to back flip off of the turnbuckle and land with a moonsault on top of his opposition’s shoulder. Somehow Too Magnificent is able to catch Craven yet again, and this time makes the most out of the opportunity.

He turns, throws Craven up into the air and allows him to come crashing down throat first into the barrier. The crowd groans, especially those seated in the front row, those unfortunate enough to watch Max slap into the barricade right before their wide eyes.

Mark: Craven went high risk and once again it didn’t pan out thanks to Too Magnificent’s strength.

Craven staggers backwards into Too Magnificent, who spins him around, grabs him by the hair and charges him at the ring. Max rolls under the squared circle, ending up in the center of which. He stands up gripping at his throat, which may be closing up, in the process.

Just as he gets up Too Mag enters the ring in front of him, charges forward and delivers a POWERFUL shoulder block. The high impact blow sends Craven crashing spine first into the ring, experiencing some painful whiplash in the process.

Comeau: Too Mag throwing that weight, which Craven eluded to before the match, around and just overpowering Craven.

Susie: All Craven has to do is tap into Mitch’s supreme power, and he’ll have enough to overcome Too Magnificent.

Max starts to struggle to his feet, desperate to get up and avenge the beatdown on his partner. That’s when Too Magnificent grabs him by the wrist and pulls him into a massive side-slam. Craven’s body almost shatters thanks to the collision with the canvas, Too Mag hooking both his legs.

1

2

Max launches a shoulder from the canvas, kicking out just before the full three count can be made.

The brutish Too Mag stands up, grabs Craven by the hair and forces him up to his feet. Before Max can put a stop to it, he’s scooped up into the air and slammed into the canvas. Too Mag steps to his side and launches himself into the air, coming down with all his weight right across Max’s throat.

Craven’s lower body kicks up into the air and he rolls to his side, face transforming to a bright red shade.

Comeau: Too Magnificent continuing to dominate Craven, his girth perhaps too much for Max to overcome.

Moore: See, told you Too Mag had an eating problem. He probably lives on jelly donuts.

Despite being out of the ring for so long Too Magnificent hasn’t lost a step. TM gets back to his feet, snatches Craven around his jaw and leads him up to his feet. He scoops Craven up into the air once again only to have Max slip over his shoulder, landing on his feet behind him.

Max steps in delivering a swift kick to the back of his massive opponent’s knee. The strike causes TM to stagger, trying to maintain his footing. Craven connects with another kick to the back of the knee-cap, further debilitating the giant’s leg and bringing him down to his size.

The moment that Too Magnificent is brought down to a knee, Craven bounces from the ropes behind him and lunges forward into a bulldog. TM is dragged from a kneeling base into a brutal face buster across the canvas.

Mark: Craven finally getting some offence by taking Too Mag’s legs out from under him.

The former X-Class Champion rolls across the canvas and instead of going for the pin, attempts to retrieve Doogan. He commences up the corner, reaching out and wrapping his hand around Doogan’s ankle. He tugs but Mitch doesn’t come down from the hook.

Craven: Work with me dammit!

His unstable competition starts up behind Craven, who is still standing on the turnbuckle, spins him around and palms him to the chest. An exasperated Craven is gorilla pressed into the air and thrown across the ring. Max tucks into a forward roll, ending up on his feet.

Behind him, Too Magnificent is climbing up the turnbuckle in reverse, about to launch himself off. He doesn’t even bother with Doogan until Mitch reaches out with his legs, wrapping them around TM’s neck. Too Mag twists from side to side, trying to free himself from Doogan’s thighs.

Mark: Mitch helping out Craven, I guess he’s earning that hot dog.

Moore: It did have onions on it, and onions aren’t cheap.

Craven rushes across the ring and dives into the air, spearing Too Magnificent to the ribs. Doogan breaks his legs from the giant’s throat as TM’s large frame doubles over. He grabs at his mid-section while his opposition springs from the middle rope of the perpendicular cables, Craven twisting around and connecting with a buzzsaw kick.

The blow connects to the temple of his adversary, knocking Too Magnificent down from the corner and to his knees.

Comeau: Impressive and aerial kick by Craven taking Too Mag down from that turnbuckle. This is just the opportunity he needed to get to Doogan or get the pin.

Too Magnificent falls to his seat, his back perched against the turnbuckle. Craven rolls to the center of the ring then comes barreling in. He extends his palms, grabs the top rope and lunges into the air. He keeps gripping the top rope as he swings his lower body, feet first into Too Magnificent’s chest.

Max rolls in reverse and to his feet in the center of the ring while his opponent crawls out of the corner. He gets to his elbows and knees when Max comes charging in, stepping off of his back and launching himself at the turnbuckle. Craven lands on the middle cable and then reaches up, grabbing Doogan’s ankles.

Mitch is yanked down from the pole, landing seat first on the top rope.

Comeau: Craven has got Doogan down and now he gets to use him as a weapon.

Moore: He’ll probably make a better weapon than a nuclear missile or a tear gas.

Craven drops to the canvas beneath Doogan, and grabs him by his shirt. As Too Magnificent stands up in the center of the ring, Doogan is launched out of the corner into a flying lariat that nails him right across the throat.

Doogan and TM collapse to the canvas with the crowd going bonkers over what they just witnessed.

Mark: And Mitch already used as a projectile missile.

Moore: See, told ya.

The brutish Too Mag grips at his throat and tries to stand up. He has no idea that behind him, Craven has grabbed Mitch by the belt and the collar of his shirt, bending him over into position. Too Magnificent turns around when Doogan is launched shoulder first into his gut.

The spear sends Too Magnificent tumbling to his back and then rolling under the ropes to the outside of the ring.

Craven looks out over the crowd, waving his arms upward, trying to get the fans on their feet.

Craven: Now that’s SUPPREEEMME POWAAAHHHH!

Doogan is livid that Max stole his catch-phrase, letting Craven know about it as he ascends to his feet.

Doogan: THAT’S IT! I draw the line at copyright infringement. I’m DONE.

He swipes his arms through the air and begins to vacate the ring. Craven won’t let him get away that easy. He grabs Doogan by the belt and collar once again, spinning him around then charging him at the ropes. Too Magnificent has just stood up on the outside of the ring when Doogan is thrown through the ropes into a suicide diving headbunt.

The move connects and sends Doogan toppling down on top of Craven’s opponent. The crowd starts to laugh and cheer over what they’ve just witnessed.

Moore: Is there nothing that Doogan can’t do?

Mark: Storm out of the ring apparently. Craven continuing to exploit him as a weapon against Too Magnificent.

The crowd is exhilarated, their hearts pumping just as quickly as Craven’s. Now he’s the one who is prepared to go airborne, crouching into position. On the outside of the ring Too Magnificent is grabbing the apron, trying to get up. Craven charges across the ring and begins to dive through the ropes when TM removes a trash-can from beneath the ring and slams it into Max’s face.

The can engulfs Craven’s cranium, and sends the crowd into jeers.

Mark: HEY!

Susie: How come there’s not a conveniently placed trash-can under OUR announce table?

Comeau: Too Magnificent using that can anyway! He must have positioned it under their earlier tonight.

Too Magnificent slides into the squared circle and crawls towards a now laid out Max. Doogan continues to lay lifelessly at ringside, unable to break up the pinfall, not that he would want to. TM drops into a lateral press.

1

2

Somehow Craven is able to launch a shoulder from the canvas even after taking that shot from the trash-can. The weapon may be illegal but the scab ref isn’t disqualifying Too Magnificent, opting to let this match continue.

He also allows Too Magnificent to approach the trash-can, now positioned on the apron, and bring it into the ring. As the can hits the canvas, Craven is lifted into the air. A well placed boot doubles Max over and puts him in position for the powerbomb.

Mark: The trash can once again being abused by Too Magnificent, and it may be on the verge of assisting him to victory.

Susie: I hope there’s a 1-800 number to call and report on Too Mag’s abuse of that can.

Craven is hoisted into the air and then to the shoulders of his massive opponent, ready to have his spine shattered by steel. Victory is snatched from Too Mag’s clutches however, when Max counters into a facebuster, planting his adversary’s face directly into the can.

Too Mag gets a taste of his own medicine, bouncing from the steel and flopping to his spine.

Mark: Counter by Craven, hitting a face-buster into the very trash-can used as a weapon against him moments ago.

A stunned Too Magnificent looks like a deer caught in headlights, sprawled across his back and staring towards the rafters. Craven slides into the pin, hooking the massive leg of his opposition and hoping that he’s done enough to finish off his rival.

1

2

3!

The reception is arena shaking, the crowd quite pleased to see that Craven has not only picked up a win but defeated the man who brutalized Evermore last week. Craven sits up, squeezing his palms together and shaking them above his head.

Mark: Craven bests Too Magnificent after one of the more unusual bouts I’ve ever witnessed. I don’t even think Judy Bagwell was used as a weapon when she was hung from a pole.

Susie: I’m mad now, how come Mitch got to be a weapon but not me? I have FAR more experience being on a pole than him.

Doogan tries to recover on the outside mats while in the ring Craven is celebrating his victory. He hops to a turnbuckle, raises his fists into the air and elicits a loud pop from his hometown crowd. Too Magnificent rolls to his side, looking flabbergasted by his failure to beat or injure the celebrating Craven.

BEG

Hurse: Just give me two seconds of your time, I really, really, really, really need your help.

A panicked Hurse clasps his hands together in prayer, talking to a figure off camera. His entire body reeks of desperation, his words heavy with fear.

Hurse: I know you’re a very busy man, and I wouldn’t even be burdening you with this if Jackson, James, and Rick-Rohl hadn’t turned me down. Not that you’re my last choice, I just didn’t think you’d even consider helping me after everything we’ve went through.

Porno Lad: You thought right.

The camera turns to bring the N.H.B Champion into view. He sits in a chair unlacing his boots, trying to take some pressure off of his ankles after that grueling triple threat encounter.

Porno Lad: But you can continue begging, I do enjoy seeing you grovel.

Hurse almost kneels before his long time rival.

Hurse: Show a little compassion, Porny.

Porno Lad: It’s pretty hard to when you keep using that abbreviated version of my name.

Hurse: Would you rather me use Laddy?

Porno Lad: NO!

Hurse timidly continues.

Hurse: I can’t take all of Team Desire on my own.

Porno Lad: Yeah, I’m pretty sure you couldn’t even take Gigi Steward. But I fail to see how your inadequacies effect me.

Hurse: Come on Porny-Porno Lad, I know deep down inside….

Porno Lad: Oh GOD, not one of these speeches.

Hurse: I know part of you cares about Katelyn Buehler.

Porno Lad: HA!

The Prankster tries to cup his mouth to keep from laughing.

Porno Lad: Assumptions make asses of both you and I.

Hurse: Come on, you were with her for so long…

Porno Lad: Too long.

Hurse: And she did everything in her power to make you happy. Isn’t it time for you to return the favor? To show that you appreciate everything she’s gone through on your beha….

After removing his boot, Porno Lad throws it into a wall, the echo reverberating throughout the corridor. He stands up, causing Hurse to leap back forming a cross with his fingers.

Porno Lad: You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. After everything she’s put me through, Katelyn deserves what she gets from the Brat Pack.

A horrified Hurse trembles, realizing that Porno Lad isn’t going to help him after all.

Porno Lad: I just hope there’s enough of her left for me to finish off.

Hurse: But, but, but….

Porno Lad: But what? Spit it out alreadyd.

Hurse: She’s so, she’s so, HOT! How can you allow something so beautiful to be destroyed?

Porno Lad just shrugs.

Porno Lad: It’s pretty easy when she’s slept with your father.

Hurse: I’m sure that was just her way of showing affection to you.

No words can properly express just how befuddled Porno Lad is by that last statement.

Hurse: If you help me, I’ll be like your indentured servant.

Porno Lad: Really?

The time for confusion is over, Porno Lad now stroking his jaw and contemplating the proposal.

Porno Lad: I doubt I would get much use out of you.

Hurse: Well, just think about it, okay. Just PLEASE, think about it.

Hurse backs out of frame while his nemesis chuckles.

Porno Lad: Uhhh, HELLO, I have NOTHING to think about. You already know my answer.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Random Norris Awesomeness

GIMME

The crowd doesn’t have to wait much longer to see the plan Jackson Adams alluded to earlier. His entrance music hits the PA system and he steps to the ramp, a crooked smile on his face and his arm hitched to a slender beauty of Asian descent. Although the crowd harasses him, Jackson seems to be walking on air, especially when accompanied by this lass.

Mark: Earlier tonight THIS man said he was going to take back his X-Class Title belt, and I wonder if this lovely young woman has anything to do with his plan.

Susie: She’s Asian, and she’s a goth, and she’s a she, what’s not to like about her already?

The young woman adorned in some hot leather gear moves up the steps, her hand guided by Adams until she is on the ramp. She sits on the middle cable while Jackson leaps to the apron then slips through the parted ropes into the ring. His new friend follows along behind as Adams steps across the ring requesting a microphone.

Jackson: Okay, alright, don’t bother asking questions I won’t answer. Let me get the introduction out of the way and you tools can go back to drooling.

The jeers humor JA as he takes his acquaintance by the fingers and she curtseys to the crowd.

Adams: You’re lookin….no, no, LEERING, at my long time friend, Miho Miyazaki. Say hello, Miho.

She nods to the audience at this point and waves in their direction.

Moore: Hi Miho. I’m Susie.

Mark: She can’t hear you, Susie.

Susie: Should I speak up?

Miyazaki puts a palm on Jackson’s shoulder as he feigns excitement.

Jackson: Now you might be asking yourselves, why? Why did I allow you undeserving piss-ants to get an eye full of my good friend?

The boos reach their apex, but Adams carries on.

Jackson: The answer is simple. I didn’t bring her out here for you pervs to hoot and holler over, I brought her out to make a point.

Susie: And I think I can see the points through that thin leather blouse Miho is wearing.

Adams: After you fans stuck me in a Singapore Cane match against Riggs, the last thing I want to do is pander to you nincompoops. Miho’s out here because I needed a visual aid to demonstrate just how much Porno Lad and I have in common. Think about it, we’re pretty much identical. We could even get our own Disney show called Brother, Brother, or the Suite Life of Jackson and Porny, that’s how close we are.

The fans aren’t seeing the similarities so Jackson takes them through the compare and contrast method.

Jackson: Porno Lad and I are both egotistical, we both only care about OURSELVES, we’re driven by ambition and we won’t let anyone get in the way of our goals. We step over whoever gets in our way, and give these fans the slap in the face they all deserve!

Once more his words are drowned by boos.

Jackson: And we both hang out with the crem-de-la-crem of society. We have the hottest friends and only the sexiest groupies. Miho here, well she represents a little from column A and a little from column B.

Miho does a little spin and Jackson nods towards the crowd before proceeding.

Jackson: Don’t you see, Porno Lad? We’re no different than one another. When Hurse came begging for help we both told him no, because we realize that we’re the only ones who matter. We’re not going out on a thin limb just to do what’s quote un-quote “RIGHT.” How does doing the right thing benefit us?

Mark: What a weasely little snot.

Susie: If he really is a weasel someone should just pop him.

Jackson: We do whatever to whoever and we enjoy it. We get off on that RUUUSH of power. We use the bimbos and we throw ‘em aside, disregarding such losers just like we disregard these irrelevant fans. So considering how much we have in common, why do we bother fighting each other? We could be buds, hombres, comrades, hell, even team-mates. So let’s put all this foolishness behind us and move on. Let’s stop all the BS and do something productive, like say, DOMINATE the IWC.

His fingers dig into his palm, fist pumping in the air.

Adams: I mean, if you hang out with me, that means you get to hang out with my friends too.

Again he motions to Miho, who smiles widely, licking her lips in the process.

Jackson: Sooo, what do you say about coming on out here, handing me back my X-Class Title, and then you, me, and Miho can hit the town?

His teeth are so bright they could light a runway, making his grin all the more unsettling.

Adams: It’s about time for the cold hearted, unsympathetic bastards of the world to UNITE. What do you say Porno Lad, what do ya…..

“Original Prankster” intrudes on Jackson Adams’ statement, causing him to become tight lipped. From the back emerges Porno Lad, adorned in both the X-Class and the N.H.B (Nude Hot Babes) Championship belts. He shakes a finger in the direction of Adams and Miho, smirking all the while.

Mark: Porno Lad emerging from the back, and it seems that Jackson’s argument is actually appealing to him.

Susie: I hope so, that way Miho can join he and I later.

Comeau: A three way, huh?

Moore: Yep, a three way game of Hungry, Hungry Hippos.

The controversial Prankster slips into the ring and hops to his feet, but Jackson’s eyes are locked on his X-Class Title over Porno Lad’s shoulder instead of watching out for the unpredictable champion. A microphone is slipped from the waistband of PL’s tights and raised to his smiling lips.

Porno Lad: Well, color me STUNNED Jackson, but you actually came out here and made a LOGICAL argument.

Adams’ smile widens to the point that his cheeks almost burst.

Porno Lad: And you did it by appealing to my favorite vice, my adulation for the ladies, especially the scantily clad variety.

Porno Lad winks in Miho’s direction and she blushes.

Porno Lad: And we do have a couple of things in common. For instance, we’ve both put up with Hurse and Katelyn Buehler for FAR too long….

The conniving Adams nods rather enthusiastically.

Porno Lad: We both use an excessive amount of hair products….

Jackson now teases his hair, acting as if he’s combing it. All the while, throughout Porno Lad’s whole spiel, the N.H.B Champion is unaware that a figure is slipping into the ring behind him. Christian Savior now crouches in a corner, eagerly awaiting the opportunity to hit the spear. Referee Alex Ingelson stands outside of the ring in a neck brace, ready to make the count when Savior delivers the Blaze of Glory and ensure that the long standing Hardcore Match is effectively ended.

Susie: Oh no….

Comeau: Yes, I see that this was all a set-up, Jackson lured Porno Lad to the ring and now Savior is about to take him out with he spear.

Moore: Really? I was talking about my contact lens, I dropped it.

Mark: Susie, you don’t even wear contact lenses.

Susie: Oh, that’s right.

Porno Lad continues with his speech, Jackson trying to refrain from laughing over the impending doom.

Porno Lad: And we both came out here with some back up.

Jackson’s face twists with confusion.

Porno Lad: But that’s where the similarities end, JA, and now we get down to the differences between us. You see, while you believe yourself to be a diabolical genius capable of luring me into a trap, (makes jerking off motion) I actually am brilliant, and can see right through this simple ruse. And while you brought a coward out here to spear me as soon as I turn around…..

Christian scratches at the back of his head, trying to figure out how Porno Lad could possibly know that.

Porno Lad:….I brought a legitimate badass out here, who won’t tuck his tail between his legs and run at the first sight of danger. Someone to counter-act, Christian.

Before Jackson can even figure out what Porno Lad is going on about, a Singapore cane slaps over his back. The crowd is elated at the sight of Riggs standing in the ring, having jumped the barricade and assaulted the X-Class Champion.

Comeau: HEY! It’s Riggs, he just clobbered Adams with the cane.

Susie: He ran right past us too, for a goth he sure does wear a lot of Old Spice.

Christian’s eyes bug out of his skull at the sight of Riggs holding the cane and now stepping towards him. Porno Lad also moves in for the kill only to have the Rising Phoenix high tail it. He rolls out of the ring and steps past Ingelson, Alex asking him where he’s going but Savior taking no time to offer up an explanation.

Comeau: Christian doing exactly what Porno Lad said he would, abandoning Jackson, and leaving him at the mercy of Riggs.

Alex continues to watch his associate flee and before he can take off as well, Porno Lad seizes the official by the belt of his pants and his still injured neck. A stunned Ingelson is spun around, charged at the ring and rolled inside. Alex enters at the same time that Miho exits, getting as far away as possible from the unstable Riggs.

A panicked Ingelson looks at Riggs holding the cane then glares to the outside at Porno Lad, who is barking orders.

Porno Lad: If you even think about leaving that ring I’ll slap you so hard with a mackerel your vagina will bleed for a month. Now OFFICIATE this match!

A panic stricken Ingelson does as he’s told. Riggs watches Porno Lad from the ring at this point, swinging his Singapore cane around at his side.

Porno Lad: You owe me.

Porno Lad starts up the ramp, Riggs trying to figure out what that last statement meant, especially given the fact that HE just helped HIM out.

JACKSON ADAMS VS. RIGGS
SINGAPORE CANE MATCH

As Miho Miyazaki watches with disgust from ringside, Jackson continues to kneel on the canvas. A huge welt has formed on his back from the blow with the Singapore cane, the very weapon now twirled around Riggs’ fingers. The moment that Jackson begins to ascend to his feet, Riggs steps in and slaps the cane viciously against his ankle.

Mark: This match did not start out very well for Jackson Adams, his attempt to lure Porno Lad into a trap went horribly awry thanks to the man now brutalizing him with that cane.

Susie: Aww, I thought when they said this would be a cane match they meant the wrestlers would be using candy canes. Their so colorful and pretty.

Comeau: Yes, everything your not.

Jackson hops on one foot, both hands wrapped around his battered ankle. Now Riggs slaps the cane against his knuckles, causing Jackson to unleash a high pitched wail as he grabs at his wounded fingers. He stares at his bruised hand and unleashes a roar of pain.

As if he weren’t suffering enough already, the cane now connects with his rear-end, sending Adams lunging into the air and scampering forward across the canvas. He dives through the ropes to get some distance between himself and Riggs, who now stands in the center of the ring holding his weapon up high.

Mark: Riggs is just brutalizing Adams with that cane. JA is getting his just deserts here tonight, the fans forcing him into this cruel, but DESERVED punishment.

Jackson doubles over at ringside, rubbing at his rear-end, shaking his possibly broken fingers in the air and still hobbling slightly. Miho rushes around the ring in a hurry, having retrieved a Singapore cane and handing it to Adams. She pats him on the back, causing Jackson to cringe due to the welts protruding from his flesh.

Finally he looks at the weapon in his hand then back at Miho.

Jackson: What the hell am I supposed to do with this!?!

Miho makes a swinging motion with her hands that causes Adams to sigh.

Adams: He’s not a fucking piñata!

Riggs has his weapon extended over his shoulder and behind his neck, swaying from side to side impatiently. After several seconds of Miho feeding Adams advice, Jackson musters the courage to re-enter the ring, weapon in hand. He stands up and holds the Singapore cane out in front of himself, swinging it around every time that Riggs gets close, desperately trying to hold him at bay.

As the cane swipes through the air Jackson cannot help but to make Star Wars light saber sounds. He does some fancy Jedi footwork and spins in a circle with the cane still stretched forth. That’s when Riggs swings his cane into Adams, knocking the weapon right out of Jackson’s hands.

As he loses control of his equalizer, Jackson lifts his palms and backs away, begging Riggs for just a smidgen of compassion. Riggs shakes his head and actually forms a grin, having no sympathy for his impending victim. He now lifts the cane up high and moves in for the death blow only to have Jackson lunge forward connecting with a knee to his ribs.

Riggs looses possession of his cane, dropping it to the canvas while Adams applies a half nelson and begins to punch him over and over again to the back of his head. He pulls back on the hair of his adversary and charges Riggs at the turnbuckle, slamming him face first into the top rope.

His arms fall over the cables, looking somewhat dazed at this point. That’s when Miyazaki reaches up and grabs both of Riggs’ wrists, pulling down on them from the outside of the ring and leaving him powerless to defend himself.

Comeau: What is this Miho Miyazaki doing to Riggs?

Moore: Maybe she’s trying to turn him into a human puppet. I tried that once and ended up in jail, apparently trying to cut a big hole in someone’s back kills them.

Mark: Who would have ever thunk it.

Riggs’ back is entirely exposed to Jackson, who picks up the cane and tries to twirl it around his fingers to mock his opposition. He almost looses his grip on it however, but catches the weapon before it hits the canvas. After taking a deep breathe he tees off on Riggs’ back, slapping the cane VICIOUSLY across his flesh.

Comeau: Jackson just beating a defenseless Riggs with that cane now. This match not going the way the fans had hoped.

Susie: I was hoping for a lot more Porno Lad, so it hasn’t lived up to my expectations either.

Riggs grimaces from the pain before Jackson smacks him to the back once more, then again, and again, and again. Huge red streaks are left in Riggs’ flesh as Miho releases his wrists and allows him to stagger backwards. He walks right into Jackson who sticks the cane in front of his adversary’s throat and nails a Russian Leg Sweep.

As soon as they hit the canvas Adams floats over into a desperation pin. Scab referee Ingelson falls to the canvas and makes the count, busting out into a heavy sweat in the process.

1

2

Riggs launches a shoulder from the canvas. Such an act prompts Adams to stand up and begin stomping away at every inch of his body. He grabs the cane off of the canvas, steps over Riggs and swings the weapon violently into his ribs.

Mark: Aaaah, those shots from the cane are just so gruesome.

Susie: Gruesome in a funny kind of way?

Comeau: Gruesome as in your commentary, kind of way.

Jackson gets a rather twisted thought in his head, stepping over the legs of his prone opponent. There appears to be little fight left in the body of the Painted Warrior as Jackson separates his legs and leaves his crotch open to punishment. Adams slowly lifts the cane above his head, savoring this moment.

That’s when Riggs connects with a kick right between the uprights, causing Adams to double over, unable to even interpret his pain. Although wounded Riggs gets to his knees and delivers a hard uppercut to Jackson’s jaw, knocking him backwards into the ropes.

He bounces off then comes back in at Riggs who catches him by the leg, hoisting JA into a flapjack.

Mark: Riggs preventing an unlawful castration and taking it to Adams in the process.

Susie: Aww, would it really hurt to have another woman on the roster? Thanks a lot Riggs, you just had to keep on having a penis didn’t you?

An aggravated Riggs rises to his feet and snatches hold of Jackson’s hair, forcing him up to his knees. He doesn’t even bother to go for the pinfall, more preoccupied with inflicting punishment. He pulls back on Jackson’s head, causing him to look towards the rafters just in time for an elbow to connect with the bridge of his nose.

Adams falls to the canvas, rolling around in pain, gripping at his damaged features. He starts to get back up on shear instinct alone when Riggs steps in holding a Singapore cane in hand. He slips the cane between Jackson’s legs, just under his taint then falls into a modified back drop suplex.

The cane is used to hoist Adams into the air and ultimately send him flipping onto the top of his head. He crashes from the canvas and ends up seated in the ring, looking as if an anvil just dropped on his skull.

Comeau: Riggs getting creative with that cane and giving the fans exactly what they wanted to see.

Moore: Gothic clowns?

Miho slaps the apron, demanding Jackson stand to prevent further punishment. Unfortunately for Adams, Riggs will not let that happen. He falls on top of him with the lateral press and uses the cane to hook one of Jackson’s legs for the pinfall.

1

2

Adams surprisingly kicks out, the crowd just as stunned as Riggs.

Mark: I think Jackson kicked out on instinct there, if I were him I’d certainly not want this match to continue.

Susie: And if I were him I’d have my nostrils widened.

Comeau: That didn’t even make the slightest bit of sense.

Moore: That’s okay, I wasn’t trying to. I just know that I have to say something every twenty seconds to keep earning a paycheck.

As Adams turns to his side, Riggs steps in and boots him to the back of the head. He then steps back and gets a running start before delivering a kick straight to Jackson’s chest. Jackson falls back and rolls into the ropes, gripping at his damaged body parts.

Riggs then moves in, taking his weapon and driving the top of it into Jackson’s ribs, doubling him over. He now steps back and gets a running start to do so once again only to have Jackson surprise him with a drop toe hold. Riggs falls throat first into the middle rope, gagging himself against it.

Mark: Adams just barely saving himself from further brutality.

A rattled, banged up JA steps towards the cane in the ring, snatching it from the canvas. He drops into a baseball slide under the ropes and ends up standing directly under Riggs’ head. With Miho cheering him on, Jackson places the cane across the back of Riggs’ neck and pulls down on it, choking him against the middle rope.

Riggs gasps and gags for air while Jackson pulls down with all his strength.

Comeau: Now Jackson is giving us a demonstration of just how vicious he can be, using that cane to aid him in choking Riggs against the middle rope.

Moore: They can do anything with those canes, maybe even brush their teeth, or use them to open a can of Spam.

Finally Ingelson barks at Jackson enough to force him to stop strangling the painted competitor. Riggs drops back into the ring, gasping for air and reaching for his throat as Adams slips in behind him. He crawls towards Riggs’ backside, sits him up on the canvas and places the cane across his neck. He leans back, choking the life from Riggs’ body once again, strangling him without remorse.

A crude smile forms on Jackson’s face as he wedges his knee to Riggs’ lower spine and applies a modified rear chin-lock, utilizing the cane instead of his hands to dish out punishment. Foam forms on the tips of his mouth, Riggs desperately try to get the air flowing back into his lungs.

Comeau: Jackson yet again using that cane to choke out his opponent. He’s determined to leave here tonight with at least something to show for his troubles.

Jackson shouts commands at the back of Riggs’ head.

Jackson: Say “I Quit” if you can, mwahahahaha.

The generically evil laughter echoes through the Manhattan Center and results in boos from the crowd.

Mark: Adams hoping for Riggs to either pass out or tap out here, and he could be on the verge of achieving either option.

Riggs strikes the canvas with his heel, the crowd beginning to rally behind him. They stand and slap the barricades, stomping their feet in the process, motivating the unstable warrior to begin ascending to his feet. He actually starts to get up, the muscles in his body aching but his will to survive flourishing.

Even strangulation fails to keep him down, his fists pumping just as quickly as his heart. He finally reaches his feet and in one quick fluid motion Jackson breaks the choke and then breaks the cane over the back of Riggs’ head. The stick cracks down the middle, connecting with just enough force to send Riggs plummeting to the ring.

Comeau: The cane cracking Riggs right in the head, this bout may just be over.

Susie: Rats, I like seeing people treated like human piñatas, it fulfills one of my childhood fantasies.

Riggs is pushed to his back by an over-zealous Adams. With Miho offering words of encouragement from ringside, Jackson hooks both of Riggs’ legs and leans back into the chest of his opposition. He anxiously shouts at scab referee Doogan to make the count. Ingelson is too busy examining his neck but finally falls into position to make the count.

1

2

Jackson is on the cusp of celebrating victory, but apparently he’s a premature celebrator, because Riggs kicks out just seconds before the third slap of the canvas.

Comeau: Amazingly Riggs got his shoulder up.

Susie: He is amazing, just like a super-hero, only with paint instead of a mask, and no tight fitting spandex or duel identities, or….

Mark: We get it already, you’re an idiot, no need to rub it in.

To say Adams is peeved would be like claiming that Chuck Norris is only slightly super-human. After bickering with Doogan, Jackson ascends to his feet and tries to develop a new strategy. He snaps his fingers and goes to work, stepping over Riggs’ back, and wrapping his arm about his jaw.

Miho continues to be a back seat driver, shouting orders into the ring but Adams doesn’t follow them. He’s intent on dragging Riggs to his feet and then swinging him around into position for the Spectacular Ending.

Comeau: On the verge of seeing that unique C4 variation.

Adams grabs Riggs by the belt and hoists him into the air, looking fully intent on delivering the death nail. That’s when Riggs wraps his arm around Jackson’s head and counters in mid-air, dropping back into a DDT. Adams crashes into the canvas across the top of his head, his body flipping over and ultimately spilling across the ring.

Comeau: An outstanding counter by Riggs at the very last concievable second. I've never seen anyone counter the Spectacular Ending like that.

Moore: I have. Or at least I'll say I have so I can feel SPECIAL!

With Adams trying to recover, Miho hops to the apron, another cane in her hand, having retrieved it from under the squared circle. Before she can enter the ring Riggs cuts her off and snatches the stick out of her hands. Miho looks stunned that her weapon has been taken from her but grins nevertheless as she drops to the mats.

Now that the cane is in hand, Riggs turns an anticipates the ascension of his opposition. Jackson gets to his feet, looking as if the electrical impulses in his head have gone haywire. He turns just in time for the cane to slap him violently over the skull.

The blow has Adams staggering, flailing his arms to remain upright.

Comeau: What a sickening, depraved shot!

Riggs looks somewhat flabbergasted that Jackson is still on his feet, albiet wobbling back and forth. He now backs into a turnbuckle, starts up it to the second rope then comes flying off. The cane nails Adams with such force to the top of the head that it very well may have cracked his skull.

Mark: And that was one even more BRUTAL!

The staff explodes over Jackson's head and sends him toppling to his spine. Riggs throws the cane aside and hooks both of Adams' legs, keeping a close eye on Miho at ringside.

1

2

3!

The blows from the cane were just too much for Adams to withstand.

Comeau: After two of the most brutal cane shots I've ever seen, Adams has finally been taken down for the three count.

Susie: Three Count? Where's Tank Abbott?

Jackson engulfs his skull with both palms while Riggs agonizingly ascends to his feet. He raises his fists towards the heavens, basking in the adulation of the masses. Miho watches from ringside with a surprising lack of emotion.

Mark: Riggs victorious after a grueling Singapore Cane match, and I hope Adams receiving a beating sends some of these fans home happy tonight.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Proof all Spacemen like to roll

GRATITUDE

Although wounded Riggs still has the strength to carry his bruised and swollen body towards the dressing room. His feet drag across the concrete, adrenaline leaving his body after his thrilling bout with Adams. After unleashing a sigh of relief he twists the knob to the room and steps inside, looking forward to spending some time in solitary confinement.

Porno Lad: Well howdy there PARTNA’!

Riggs stops in the doorway, staring into the dressing room where Porno Lad is located. A striped referee shirt binds to the prankster’s body as he sways from side to side, trying to limber himself up.

Riggs: Just get it over with, what do you want?

Obviously he is in no mood for games, moving into his dressing room and stepping right past Porno Lad to his locker. He doesn’t even turn around to acknowledge the N.H.B Champion as he speaks.

Porno Lad: Jeez, and here I thought we were becoming pals.

The dead eyes that briefly glance in Porno Lad’s direction tells him he was wrong.

Porno Lad: Okay, okay lil’ Mister Impatience, I just wanted to tell you that I’ve come up with a brilliant way for you to pay me back.

Riggs: Pay YOU back? For what? I’m the one who saved YOUR ass out there.

Porno Lad shakes his head and crosses his arms.

Porno Lad: The nerve of some people.

Riggs: WHAT!?!

Porno Lad: Here I am graciously risking my own well being in order to set Jackson Adams up for you, and this is how you repay me, with such egotism? I swear, I don’t know why I even bother being so charitable.

He stops speaking the moment Riggs’ grabs him by his shirt, pulling him in close.

Riggs: Just finish what you came here to say then get the hell out.

Porno Lad: Okay, okay, I know I’m irresistible but there’s no need to be so grabby.

The shirt is pulled out of Riggs’ palm and straightened.

Porno Lad: I think, based on the fact that I set up Jackson for you, that you should humbly step aside and take yourself out of the voting to be special ref for Savior’s match tonight.

For once Riggs actually grins.

Porno Lad: Think about it, not only would it be the perfect way to show some gratitude, but it would also allow ME to finish my Hardcore Match with Savior, and show the world your far too compassionate to have anything to do with that attack on Kingdom last week.

Riggs nods, pretending to listen while he goes through his locker.

Porno Lad: I have far more to gain from being special ref, considering my two most favorite people in the world are involved in that match, than you do. In fact, you should owe me another favor for just bringing you this idea.

Riggs: How do you figure?

Porno Lad: Well you’re obviously in NO condition to go out there and referee a match, you’d just be risking further injury. So here I am willingly taking ALL the risks and thereby protecting you once again. You can sit back here drinking blood or monkey brains or whatever yucky beverage you type of people enjoy drinking, while I go to the ring and do all the work. So go ahead, just thank me now.

Riggs: Oh yes, please allow me to express my gratitude in a way befitting of MY PEOPLE.

A long machete is removed from Riggs’ locker, his finger running across the blade. Sweat immediately forms on the brow of Porno Lad, who almost trips over a bench as he backs out of the dressing room.

Porno Lad: Alright, alright, I get the message. You can just send me a fruit basket or something.

Riggs takes a step towards Porno Lad who darts out of the dressing room, slamming the door closed behind him. The Painted Warrior shakes his head and tosses the machete to the floor. He now reaches into his locker and removes a striped shirt, stretching it out in front of his eyes, realizing he’ll have a shot at revenge against Christian should the voting go his way.

CHANGE OF HEART

He may be winded, he may be hurt, he may be pissing blood, but nothing will keep Pat Evans from vacating the Manhattan Center and doing so in a hurry. There’s a hop in his step as he departs the building, bag thrown over shoulder, street gear crudely wrapped around his aching frame, and mind weighed heavily with thoughts of Savior’s announcement.

Billy: So Pat, are you going to accept Christian’s offer?

Mayne once again complicates matters, wheezing as he tries to keep up with the technical tyrant.

Mayne: Are you going to take his guaranteed title shot and face Johnny Kingdom?

Instead of giving a response, Pat opts to leave the question unanswered. Perhaps he hasn’t reached a decision yet, or he wishes to leave everyone in suspense. Either way he keeps moving towards his car in the enclosed parking facility, providing no explanations.

Billy: PLEASE answer my question, Pat. I have nothing else to live for.

Evans continues to remain tight lipped, up until he spots his car, drops his bag and unleashes a sigh.

Pat Evans: Can I help you?

The lovely significant other of one Christian Savior, Rose is perched on the trunk of Pat’s car, ensuring that he’d have to speak with her before he could leave the building. Despite this being her very first appearance on Riot!, and being faced with the unpredictable Evans, Rose looks naturally at home amidst the lunacy.

Rose: No, there’s nothing you can do for me, but there’s plenty you can do for Christian.

A surprisingly smug grin settles on Pat’s face.

Pat: Ohhh, I get it. Savior was too much of a coward to give me his list of demands, so he sent you to be his little messenger.

Rose: Wrong on all accounts. Christian didn’t send me.

Evans: He didn’t did he? But I suppose you’re still going to tell me the catch now. Where should I accept Christian’s “humble” offer, I’ll be expected to scratch his back, sort of speak? And if that’s the case, then you can tell Savior to take his offer and shove it where….

Rose: Pat, Pat, Pat, listen, listen…

Rose slips off the trunk of the car waving her hands through the air.

Rose: Like I said, I’m not doing this because Christian sent me, but I am here on his behalf.

Pat: Get away from my car.

She steps aside so that he can pop open his trunk and toss his gym bag into it, all the while continuing her impassioned speech.

Rose: Pat, all I’m asking for is just a few moments of your time.

The trunk is slammed shut, Evans continuing to lean over it, not bothering to turn around and acknowledge Savior’s lover.

Evans: I’ve wasted enough time on Christian.

Rose: That’s fine, if that’s truly your decision I understand. Believe me, I know just how irritating Christian can be , but I also know he’s capable of change.

Pat: Pfft, please.

Rose: No, really, he’s changed A LOT. You may not be able to see it now, but he’s become a completely different person since he lost the title.

Evans: HA! Let’s see, he still dodges matches, he still cheats to win, he still manipulates….

Pat goes down the list as he opens the door to his car and sits in the driver’s seat. Both Rose and Billy get closer, Mayne eagerly trying to get the exclusive.

Pat: Yeah, he sure has changed a lot.

Before the door can be slammed shut, Rose wedges herself between it and the car.

Rose: He’s trying, Pat; you’ve at least got to give him credit for that. I mean here he is giving you a World Title opportunity, paying you back for your loyalty and friendship, and he’s not even asking anything of you.

Evans: I’m sure there’s some type of catch, there always is when it comes to Christian.

Rose: The only thing Christian gains from this is seeing his closest ally FINALLY win the World Heavyweight Title. He just wants the satisfaction of knowing that he helped you climb to the top, instead of holding you back like all the so called “legends” around here.

Even though Pat wants nothing more than to just drive away and forget all about Christian’s offer, once again matters become complicated. He cannot help but to sit and listen.

Rose: Here’s the catch, Pat. Christian doesn’t want to become another Orlando Cruze, or another Johnny Kingdom, he wants to go down in the record books as a man who gave instead of took. And all he wants is for you to accept his offer so he can truly start GIVING and in the process REWARDING you. Here he is about to step into the lion’s den, surrounded by nothing but enemies in that special referee match tonight, and he hasn’t even asked you to watch his back or anything. He’s more concerned with ensuring that you get your just dues. He doesn’t see you as a bodyguard anymore, he realizes now that you’re his equal.

Another exasperated sigh is unleashed by Evans, who shakes his head and turns the key in the ignition.

Rose: Just please don’t be so quick to dismiss this offer. In the end you’ll regret it, I’ll regret it, and Savior will really regret it. You and he have a chance to change the direction of this entire company, and to finally live up to the principles that the Conspiracy was built on in the first place.

Pat deliberates on his answer long and hard before it finally passes through his gritting teeth.

Evans: I’ll think about it.

There are just the words that Rose wanted to hear. She and Billy step out of the way as the car backs up and speeds out of the Manhattan Center.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

AXL EVERMORE © VS. PSYCHO

The show returns live with the crowd trying to catch their breath after everything they’ve already seen tonight.

Comeau: Riot! returns from commercial break on a night buzzing with activity.

Moore: Yeah, I’ve buzzing too, but mostly because I’m sitting on my pager.

"Dead man lying on the bottom of the grave
Wondering when Savior comes
Is he gonna be saved?"

(The crowd are in a mixed reaction as the lights dim and the stage is slightly illuminated by an eerie blue ominous glow. The 'tron' is filled with stormy clouds.)

"Maybe you're a sinner into your alternate life
Maybe you're a junker maybe you deserve to die"

(Slowly the storm on the 'tron' fades into the cold malice glare from The Sadistic One.)

"They were crying when their sons left
God is wearing black
He's gone so far to find no hope
He's never coming back
They were crying when their sons left
All young men must go
He's come so far to find the truth
He's never going home"

(Psycho slowly steps out from behind the curtain. An emotionless face captivates him as he makes his way down to the ring.)

"Young men standing on the top of their own graves
Wondering when Jesus comes
Are they gonna be saved."

(He rolls into the squared circle still basking in the mixed applause from the sold out crowd, who are unsure what to make of him.)

Comeau: The fans given no time to recover and neither are we because the Cartel Title match that bas been heavily hyped for the past several weeks is finally occurring. Psycho not wearing any morbid messages on his chest, because the time for words between himself and Evermore is at an end.

Susie: Aww, I’m gonna miss all his cute body art, I was learning to read from the words on his chest.

Mark: The only education Psycho is interested in giving, is one in pain, and Axl Evermore is about to be his star pupil.

The Sadistic One steps back and forth, eyes observant of the entry way. He paces like a bull about to lunge a matador.

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, revealing his well-toned waist. Besides his fit mid-section, he also brings into view HIS Cartel Title.

He heads to the ring with stern focus and an energetic gait as the crowd cheers, then jumps and dives through between the middle and bottom ropes, tumbling forth into a hop, into a standing position at the center of the ring. He jogs to a corner, climbs it and thrusts his arms up and points to himself again, shouting "A...X...L!" as the crowd chants along. He hops down from the corner, takes his jacket and shades off, putting the shades in a jacket pocket, and draping the jacket over a corner post, then takes his bandanna off and throws it into the audience. Axl now removes the Cartel belt, handing it through the ropes to the time keeper.

Mark: The Cartel Champion, hot off the heels of a successful title defense last week, once again putting his belt on the line. He’s had a red hot streak since he won the belt at Paranoia VI, but is Psycho just the man to end it?

Susie: Yeah, because Psycho’s chunky, and it’s kinda hard to get around him.

Comeau: That wasn’t even anywhere near logical.

Moore: I do try.

Mark: No you don’t, but someone who IS going to have to put in all his effort is Evermore, who will have to overcome the injuries inflicted on him last week by Too Magnificent, to retain his belt. Earlier we saw Craven punish Too Magnificent for that attack, now will Axl punish the man who’s been threatening him for weeks?

The bell chimes, bringing this match to an official start. The crowd teems with excited, having long awaited this clash between the sadistic challenger and the charismatic champion. There is no more delay, Psycho rushing across the ring, reacting to the bell like he were a Pavlov dog.

A wild fist is thrown at Axl but somehow he’s able to block it with his raised forearm. He begins to deliver a succession of right hands to the jaw of the Sadistic One, causing him to stagger in reverse.

Comeau: This match getting off to a quick start, Psycho attempting to jump Evermore much like Hurse did last week.

Susie: I’d jump Axl too if he weren’t married.

Psycho finally puts an end to the furious barrage of fists by delivering a kick directly to Axl’s ribcage. The blow has Axl doubled over just as the Sadistic One steps in to deliver a punt to his face. Evermore side steps the boot, grabs hold of the crease of Psycho’s raised leg and sweeps the other foot out from under him.

A shocked Sadistic One collapses to his back as Evermore shows his unbelievable agility by performing a standing back flip. Somehow Psycho rolls out of the way though, causing Axl to change up his gameplan and land on his feet. He swings his arms to balance himself before Psycho steps in, takes him by the pony tail and charges him at the ropes.

Psycho throws him over the cables only for Evermore to grab the top rope, hanging from it before he skins the cat back into the ring.

He lands on his feet in the squared circle but Psycho will not be fooled, laying in wait for him to re-enter the ring. He quickly spins Axl around, takes him by the wrist and whips him off across the ring. Evermore bounces from the far cables, comes back in at Psycho and drops into a baseball slide between his legs.

Psycho comes rushing into the ropes in front of the rising Axl, bounces off and comes back in for a big lariat. Axl suddenly leap frogs over his inbound opponent though, allowing Psycho to continue into the opposite ropes.

He bounces off and comes back in at Axl who drops to his chest and stomach, causing Psycho to have to jump over him or be tripped down to the canvas. He continues across the ring, bouncing off the ropes once again before rushing back at Axl who leaps to his feet and nails a beautiful but brutal dropkick.

Comeau: What a dropkick from Evermore! That was disfiguring!

Moore: Uhhh, how much more disfigured can Psycho get? I think I saw his face on the cover of Fangoria magazine. Not that I read the magazine, I just look at the pictures to suppress my appetite.

Mark: Thanks for telling us something NOBODY wanted to hear.

The dropkick leaves Psycho on his feet for only a few seconds, his eyes fluttering as he tries to remain conscious. Unfortunately his struggle is in vain, because nothing keeps him from collapsing to the canvas. The Manhattan Center fans are on their feet, cheering for Evermore who hops to a standing base then to a nearby turnbuckle, taking only a few seconds to pander to his adoring audience.

All the while Psycho rolls out of the ring to the outside mats, dropping to his feet and propping himself against the apron. He swipes his palm down his face, trying to make sure it’s still there after that scintillating dropkick. That’s when Axl comes rushing up beside him, dropping into a baseball slide dropkick that lands to his shoulder, the blow sending Psycho stumbling into the barricade.

He crashes against it forcefully ribs first, his body wrapping around the steel.

Comeau: Now Psycho being introduced to the barricade.

Susie: That barricade doesn’t look very friendly either, meaning it be a perfect match for Psycho. The sex would probably be awkward, but still…

Mark: Please don’t even try to clarify your point.

Moore: Thank God, takes too much work doing that anyway.

Axl looks to continue his onslaught, clearly having a strategy that works against the monster. He slips through the ropes to the apron and begins to rush across it, looking for a big dive. That’s when Psycho shockingly steps away from the barrier and delivers a sweeping kick to the front of Axl’s shins, knocking his legs right out from under him.

Evermore twists as his entire body raises into the air before ultimately crashing face first into the apron. His skull cracks against the hardest portion of the ring with disgusting velocity.

Comeau: Ohhhh!! Axl’s skull nailing the apron, that could inflict quite a bit of brain damage.

Susie: Ha-ha, finally I’ll have a kindred spirit. Wait, did I just insult myself?

The crowd gasps, their hands cupping their mouths as they stare at a wounded Axl. His eyes are wide open and very glazed over, looking completely lost, his brain rattled. Scab referee Sheryl checks on the condition of Axl, snapping his fingers in front of his face to see if he’ll respond.

There is little reaction from Axl, the crowd growing concerned but Psycho becoming impatient. He steps towards Axl, brushing the ref aside and takes him by the hair. Evermore is forced to his feet, taken by the back of the head and charged at the barricade.

Before Evermore can put up any type of resistance he’s launched head first into the barricade, his skull cracking against steel. The impact sounds like a gunshot as Axl’s arm falls over the barricade to hold himself up.

Comeau: Now Psycho is targeting that wounded head. There is nothing this man will not do in order to win the Cartel Title.

The Sadistic One rolls into the ring then back out of it, breaking the official’s count. He now storms towards Axl who is slowly beginning to regain his focus. Unfortunately the moment he plants his feet a vicious forearm connects with his temple. Psycho nails forearm shot after forearm shot to the cranium of the Cartel Champion, trying to pick up where Too Magnificent left off last week.

He now boots Axl to the ribs, doubling him over as he leans his side against the barrier. That’s when Psycho comes charging in and nails a sickening knee strike to the side of Axl’s cranium, driving it viciously into the steel.

Evermore tumbles to the mats, convulsing and rolling around as his palms engulf his temples. After the attack at the hands of Too Magnificent last week, each blow connecting to his skull is a little more vicious and a little more painful. Psycho is counting on that, which prompts him to go after the skull with even greater malice.

He grabs Axl’s bangs, drags him up to his feet and delivers a straight right hand that connects with the temple. The blow sends Evermore twisting into the steel turnbuckle post, falling against it for support at this point. He leans against the steel spine first, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

That’s when Psycho comes barreling in for a big splash only for Evermore to clear out of harm’s way. Psycho slams against the post violently, his sternum almost cracked from the blow. He staggers away from it while Evermore charges at the post, wraps his arms about the steel and swings his legs around into almost a 619. His shins nail Psycho to the chest and face, the collision knocking him back a few steps.

Comeau: Axl hitting some desperation maneuvers that are proving quite effective against this monstrous challenger. If he didn’t get himself on the offensive there’s no telling how much damage would have been done to his head.

Moore: Which would be devastating. Let’s face it, Axl doesn’t have the greatest physique, so if something happened to his face there would be like no reason to lust after him.

The Champion climbs to the apron, shaking off the blows to his skull then diving off into a big shoulder block. The blow connects and finally takes Psycho off of his feet, knocking the two men to the mats and bringing the fans out of their seats.

Mark: Big shoulder block from Axl, surprisingly mounting a comeback against this onslaught.

Now its Psycho who looks dazed, desperately grabbing the barrier and trying to pull himself up. Axl slaps his palm to his temple, trying to shake the bats from the belfry. He then moves in and nails a sickening chop across Psycho’s sternum, followed by another shot that leaves a streak across the brute’s flesh.

Finally Evermore takes him by the back of the head, charges at the steps and slams Psycho face first into the steel. An indentation of the Sadistic One’s face is left in the steps as he staggers back into Evermore’s hands. He takes him by the hair and rolls Psycho back into the ring.

The Sadistic One ends up sprawled across his back while Evermore climbs to the apron and then slaps the top turnbuckle pad. The crowd gets louder, realizing that Axl is about to head to the top and perhaps take out the savage for good.

Comeau: Ummm, not sure how smart a move this is. Axl is going up top.

Susie: Despite the consequences, at the very least we’ll get to see him fly.

Axl steps up the turnbuckle, reaching the top rope and then taking flight. The crowd erupts as he connects with a big frog splash on Psycho then hooks his leg, sure that he’s picked up a victory.

1

2

Psycho not only kicks out but powers both shoulders from the canvas. Evermore rolls across the ring to his elbows and knees, looking as stunned as stunned can be.

Mark: Psycho just showing off that raw strength I was talking to Axl about last week.

Susie: You got to talk to Evermore? When?

Comeau: Just last week…..he sat right between us and we had like a ten minute conversation.

Moore: I don’t remember him being here, but I remember that the Cartel Title was out here. I think it copped a feel.

Evermore doesn’t let his anger take control of him, instead he backs into a turnbuckle, propping himself upon the pads. He palms his forehead and shakes his head, still trying to get his senses about him. All the while Psycho struggles to his feet, valiantly standing up when Evermore steps out of the corner, boots him to the ribs and nails a Fully Loaded Stunner.

The crowd pops out of their seats as Psycho tumbles to his back, looking spent. Evermore grabs his legs and flips forward into a jackknife cover, his fans counting along as the referee slaps the canvas.

1

2

Somehow Psycho kicks out once more, launching Axl off of him. Evermore rolls across the canvas into the ropes, falling against them and trying to push past his shock. His astonishment is increased at the sight of Psycho actually beginning to stand up.

He gets to his knees when Evermore steps out of the corner, nailing a right hand, then another, then another. The blows have Psycho disorientated, bobbing back and forth on his knees. Now Evermore rushes backwards into the ropes, bouncing off then launching himself forward. He connects with a big running buzzsaw kick to the sternum.

Psycho wavers back and forth, looking more and more glassy eyed. That’s when Axl gets another running start, building some real momentum. He bounces from the cables and comes back in at Psycho who suddenly stands up, catches the inbound Evermore, throws him up into the air and on the way down nails him to the forehead with a European Uppercut.

Comeau: Ohhhh my! An absolutely devastating Euro Uppercut variation from Psycho, nailing Evermore directly in the head.

Axl falls to his knees, looking as if he were just given electro shock treatment. Once again the crowd unleashes a collective gasp and are given more cause for concern when Psycho steps in, takes Axl by the hair and forces his head under his seat. He lifts Evermore up into the air, holding him upside down before delivering a big sit-out piledriver.

Mark: Now a spike piledriver delivered! This Cartel Title match has got to be over given the condition of Axl’s head.

Susie: On the outside it still looks nice, so who cares what’s going on within it.

Axl rolls towards a turnbuckle before ending up on his back, eyes fluttering awkwardly. That’s when Psycho jumps over him, springs to the middle rope of the turnbuckle and flies off with a big Vader bomb. He comes crashing down right across Axl’s face and head then hooks his leg for the pinfall.

1

2

The crowd and Psycho alike are floored when Evermore’s leg falls over the middle rope.

Comeau: I thought Psycho had it there for sure, but Axl got his foot on the middle rope.

Susie: Axl owes that cable a dinner.

Psycho sits up, his face flushed and his skin pulsating with rage. As he looses all control of his emotion Psycho steps over Axl, approaches the turnbuckle and grabs the top pad. In one fluid motion he rips the padding away, revealing the exposed steel bolt beneath.

Mark: Psycho loosing control after that astonishing kick-out by Evermore. This match hasn’t gone very long but every second of it has been intense.

Psycho scoops Evermore up off of the canvas and onto his shoulders. It’s obvious now that he’s going to set up for the snake-eyes, intent on planting Axl face first into the exposed bolt. He makes good on his plan, charging across the ring and seemingly seconds from sending Axl into the steel.

That’s when a surprisingly resilient Evermore slips free, sliding off of Psycho’s shoulder and shoving him forward into the turnbuckle. Psycho spins around and hits the exposed bolt spine first, causing him to roar in anguish. That’s when Evermore comes charging in and jumps into the air, going for a big splash.

Shockingly Psycho clears out of the way and causes Axl to crack his skull against the bolt.

Comeau: Oh no, I don’t know what the hell Evermore was just thinking but it may have just cost him the Cartel Title.

Axl looks dead on his feet, a walking cadaver that staggers backwards into Psycho’s arms. He’s caught around the waist and planted on the back of his wounded head with a big bridging German suplex. The fans are on their feet, pleading with Axl to kick out but realizing that there is no hope left for the champion.

Nicholas drops and makes the count.

1

2

3!

NEW CARTEL CHAMPION CROW….nooo, Evermore launched his shoulder from the ring with SECONDS to spare.

Mark: You’ve GOT to be joking. Axl just kicked out even after driving himself head first into that exposed turnbuckle bolt. What an amazing effort.

The very rafters are shaking due to the reaction of the crowd. They slap the barricades in astonishment over Axl’s kick-out. Psycho sits up on the canvas, his skin squirming as he hears this reaction and realizes that he is NOT the Cartel Champion.

Evermore lays on his side, forehead lacerated and pumping blood that cascades down his face. The fans chant his name, joining as one to applaud his will power.

Comeau: Psycho was milliseconds away from becoming champion. How Evermore continues to hold onto that belt is just beyond me.

Susie: He uses his hands?

Blood squirts from the gash formed in Axl’s forehead as Psycho steps in going for the kill. He finds himself shocked when a punch connects to his ribs, followed by another blow, and then another. Evermore gets a burst of adrenaline, standing up and delivering a violent European Uppercut.

The blow almost shatters his jaw and sends Psycho stumbling backwards across the ring. The claret smeared features of Axl twist with intensity as he delivers a boot to the big man’s ribs and he hooks both arms. He’s setting up for the Flipside once again when Psycho wedges his hands to Evermore’s stomach, stands up and throws him backwards across the ring.

Axl flies through the air then crashes face and chest first against the canvas, causing him to pop up to his knees looking incredibly confused.

Comeau: Evermore was going for the Flipside and now….OH NO!

Psycho steps around behind Evermore, hooks his arm and now begins to unload with a series of MMA elbows to the temple.

Comeau: Psycho employing those Orlando-esque MMA elbows on Axl. After all the damage done to his skull last week and tonight the Cartel Title is on the verge of shifting hands.

Moore: I better get an exclusive interview with it at least once.

The point of the elbow nails Axl to the head over and over again, sending blood flying and dissipating through the air. The crowd cringes with each violent elbow that connects, bringing Evermore closer and closer to either tapping or passing out.

The referee is right in Axl’s face, seeing if his eyes are still opened, or if he’s ready to call it quits. Instead of shouting those two career crippling words, Evermore continues to hang in there. More and more blood flows from the wound in his forehead as the elbows continue to violently connect.

Mark: Axl is still fighting, he’s still struggling to remain conscious!

Psycho is stunned when he sees that Evermore is still conscious, prompting him to connect with even more elbows, quicker and more violent than before. The tip of the elbow even meets his eye and ear but Axl is still not giving in. But there’s only so much that Axl’s body and brain can take, his blood smeared eyes beginning to flutter.

Drool starts to seep from the corner of his mouth as Axl’s head falls to its side, becoming limp. His eyes close entirely, looking unconscious but Psycho continues to deliver the elbows with even greater force than before. The official grabs Axl’s wrist, lifting the Champion’s arm into the air.

Comeau: Evermore is done, he’s out completely. We’ve got ourselves a NEW Cartel Champ….

Evermore’s fist balls up and a loud roar emanates from his lungs, finding that last ditch bit of energy to keep fighting. His eyes open as the elbows continue to rain down into his blood soaked skull.

Mark: He’s STILL hanging in there. This has got to be the most amazing display of heart and fortitude I’ve ever witnessed.

Psycho absolutely snaps, almost breaking Axl’s neck due to the whiplash of his decimating elbows. The referee realizes that Axl isn’t going to quit, prompting him to step in and try to break up the hold to prevent permanent brain damage from being done.

Psycho will NOT stop delivering the elbows, no matter how many threats the referee makes.

Comeau: Psycho is going to have to KILL Evermore to take that Cartel Title away from him.

Susie: I call dibs on drawing the white outline around Axl’s body.

Some fans are crying out for Axl to show better judgment and quit, while others plead for him to just keep going. The official reaches a four count, Nicholas desperately trying to get Psycho to stop before it’s too late, before irreversible damage is done.

Axl once again roars as the elbows connect with even more power and rage behind them. The eyes of the Sadistic One almost shatter his skull, popping out of his face like he were a cartoon spotting impending disaster.

Finally the official does something that his better judgment begs him not to. He GRABS Psycho and tries to force him off of Evermore. The Sadistic One swats him off like he were an annoying gnat, shoving him backwards into the ropes. He goes back to delivering the elbows, blood splattering all over his arm and chest. The crimson is pouring out of Axl’s face like it were a fountain, desperately in need of a transfusion.

Nicholas steps in and warns Psycho one last time, promising him that he’ll disqualify him should he not break the hold, which threatens to end Axl’s life. Once again Psycho shoves the official aside, knocking him down to the canvas with just one hand, not even realizing what he’s done. His full attention is devoted to taking the Cartel Title and ending Evermore’s career in the process.

But Axl isn’t going to let either option unfold if he can help it. Even with half the blood in his body forming a puddle over his face, clotting as it oozes from the open gash, and his brain suffering severe damage as a result of the endless elbows, he REFUSES to give in. His refuses to let down his fellow New Yorkers, his long time fans, his teammates in Fully Loaded, and most importantly, himself.

So he endures each elbow until the referee makes a bold choice, a choice too bold in fact by calling for the bell.

Comeau: The Referee stopping this match and I can’t argue against it.

Susie: I can, but then again I like to argue. It makes me feel like one of those lawyers in those shows I don’t watch cause their too complicated, and Sam Waterson’s eyebrows terrify me.

Everyone in the building is standing and for good reason, wondering what the official result of this match is after seeing Axl bludgeoned to the point where his brain has to be a puddle in his fractured skull. The chimes of the bell are enough to make Psycho stop unloading with the elbows, finally paying the official the attention that he deserves.

Kailey: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match via disqualification, AXL EVERMORE.

Psycho looks as if he just saw Harrison Ford being raped by George Lucas. He stands up trembling from his rage, shaking so bad that one would think he digested an entire bottle of Red Bull.

Comeau: Another scab referee involved in a controversial decision, but I think it was the best course of action to keep Axl Evermore…well…to keep him ALIVE. Evermore wasn’t going to quit, no matter what he was hit with, elbows or turnbuckle bolts. The man was prepared to DIE for that Cartel Championship and Psycho was ready to do whatever it took to take the belt.

Axl lays on his back, not capable of celebrating this win, nor does he want to. With blood forming a pool around his face he listens to his entrance music playing in the background, eliciting no motivation from it, or from the clapping fans.

The music and the cheers do motivate Psycho though. They motivate him to grab Nicholas by the back of the head, charge him across the ring and ram his face directly into the exposed turnbuckle bolt. The official flies back and spills to the canvas.

Psycho is right on top of him like a tiger taking down a zebra. He rips the stripes clean off of the official’s back, exposing his flesh for a several of forearm strikes capable of shattering his spinal column into dust.

Moore: Okay, I don’t want one of those striped shirts anymore.

Mark: The referees here in the IWC just having no luck whether they’re scabs or not. Orlando has got to get security out here to separate Psycho from the referee. The Sadistic One has to realize he brought that disqualification unto himself by refusing to break that barrage of elbows when he was ordered to.

The crowd is jumping all over Psycho’s case as he steps towards the bloodied Evermore and begins to stomp him to the chest, transferring his rage. Somehow he blames Axl for the referee’s decision, furious that he just wouldn’t give up. That’s why he stomps him directly to the gash in his forehead, again causing the blood to flow.

When he rolls to the outside of the ring, lifts the tarp and retrieves a cheese grater a line has been crossed and Orlando has seen enough. Security bolts from the back, a long line of them charging towards the ring to stop the Sadistic One.

Mark: Finally security is coming out here to stop Psycho’s onslaught, although their a little late.

Susie: Better late than never, Mark. I took the same approach when waiting for my first period, and it finally started yesterday.

Comeau: Susie, your 22 years old.

Susie: I knew I’d mature one day.

Thankfully Psycho doesn’t make it into the ring with cheese grater in hand. He’s surrounded and his weapon is confiscated by the security guard. The Sadistic One balls up his fists and steps ever so menacingly towards those sent to protect Evermore and the referee.

Comeau: Orlando’s security force showing a lot of testicular fortitude for standing up to this violent, deranged, warped individual, driven by a monstrous hunger for the Cartel Title.

Susie: He needs to go on the two finger diet. Two fingers down the throat, an entire meal in the toilet.

Psycho is fully prepared to plow through security, but somehow retains his composure. He bites his tongue and resists his homicidal urges, no matter how overwhelming they may be.

It’s a rage he finds harder and harder to swallow when a loud voicing is heard screeching over the PA system like nails down a chalk-board.

Sean Johnson: In the words of the (attempts Cuban accent) “BAD-GUY,” hey-yo.

Confusion sets in, the fans unsure why they were forced to think about Scott Hall’s hairy chest. They are equally as concerned by Johnson’s presence, wondering what brings the still exasperated Griffin to the stage, mic in palm, smirk on his face.

Mark: I can guarantee that things have just gone south.

Susie: Good, someone can pick me up some chewing tobacco and crooked teeth.

Sean rubs his jaw, obviously on the cusp of a truly brilliant thought.

Johnson: I just wanted to come out here and say that I think what happened here is a travesty!

Some fans cheer and others boo, most of them assuming he’s referring to Psycho’s refusal to cease the MMA elbows.

Sean: I don’t think you fans are satisfied by this conclusion, not one little bit. Its safe to say that you had higher expectations, and so did I! I honestly thought Axl was better than this.

The reaction for Johnson sours.

Johnson: I almost bought it when he said that he was going to return honor to the Cartel Championship, but now I see the belt was better off in the rungs of a ladder.

If Axl weren’t nearly comatose from a severe loss of blood he’d beg to differ.

Sean: But I’m here to give Axl the chance to live up to his word. And the number one contender should never show up the champion, which is exactly what I’ve done by competing in TWO matches tonight. So I say you give these fans, your homies (pumps fist to chest), what they paid to see, a REAL Cartel Title defense, against ME! I’m invoking my Cartel Title shot, NOW!

AXL EVERMORE © VS. SEAN JOHNSON

Sean rushes down the ramp and slides into the ring before any type of formal protest can be made.

Mark: I told you this wasn’t good. Sean doing everything in his power to get a title in his hands, including stooping to these lengths.

Moore: I hear that length can be a bad thing, especially if you have a strong gag reflex.

Comeau: I see the things coming out of your mouth are just as disgusting as the things going into it.

After putting up one of the most courageous efforts ever witnessed in an IWC ring, Axl is grabbed by his bloody bangs, dragged to his feet and pulled into position for the pedigree. He is unable to put up much of a fight after loosing pints of blood and having his skull almost split in two.

Sean delivers the pedigree to a reaction that is simply deafening. No fan in attendance is shy in letting Johnson know just what they think of his actions.

Mark: What are you doing, Johnson? This isn’t the way to win a title.

Sean kneels on the canvas, taking a moment to absorb the moment, preserving his every feeling like it were a cherished heirloom. This second’s hesitation proves costly, because Johnson may have had enough time to reanimate the official and pick up the win, but his posturing has allowed Psycho the precious few moments he needed to pummel the security guards and interfere.

After leaving a pile of bodies at ringside, each man having suffered five knuckles to the eye socket, Psycho slips into the ring behind Johnson, grabs him by the hair and forces him up to his feet.

Sean was already draping himself over Evermore’s chest and barking orders at the official, before he was so rudely interrupted by the control freak.

Mark: Psycho stopping the pin….

Susie: Aww, if there’s a movie about Psycho’s and Axl’s relationship, Billy Crystal should play Psycho and Meg Ryan should play Evermore.

Comeau: He’s not doing this out of friendship towards Evermore you baboon, he’s doing this because HE wants to be the one to take that belt from Axl.

Johnson is too caught off guard, having convinced himself that security could keep Psycho subdued, so he’s in shock upon being spun into a goozel. Psycho’s palm engulfs Johnson’s throat and he has no time to put up a fight before he’s hoisted into the air and chokeslammed across the canvas.

Mark: A chokeslam laying Johnson out!

Moore: OH NO. Who will control Poopers? There’s nothing stopping it from achieving world domination.

Sean lays on the canvas beside a bloodied, panting Evermore, who’s cranial injuries have now been exacerbated by that pedigree. But no amount of pain, no amount of blood will be enough for Psycho, if he’s not leaving with the title, then he’s leaving with Axl’s career.

He rolls to the outside, snatches up a cheese grater and raises it into the air once again. He receives just the reaction he counted on, boos, and some cheers from the more sadomasochistic fans.

Susie: Hmmm, I think Psycho is gonna make us a pizza.

Mark: Me too, because he’s about to turn Evermore’s face into pizza topping.

Moore: Just like the souls that Freddy Kruger has collected.

With shinny cheese grater in hand, Psycho rolls into the ring and despite this pleading fans, reaches down to grab a bloodied Axl by the hair.

YOU BETTER GO AWAY!

A chill so cold it could freeze over hell runs up Psycho’s spine, paralyzing his every muscle.

Comeau: What is this? WHAT….IS…THIS!?!

Moore: I think they call it a yeast infection.

Mark: Why are THESE lyrics playing over the PA system? It can’t mean what I think it means.

Psycho doesn’t want to believe what he’s hearing but reality slaps him on the wrist like a nun with a ruler. His face twists to match his emotions as his suspicions are confirmed by the pyrotechnic display on the stage ushering AWOL forth to the stage.

Comeau: No…..what is HE doing here?

Susie: It’s the general of the bald army.

Mark: The Big Crazy S.O.B is on the scene! Don’t….don’t tell me that he’s….HE’S…. one of the men that Orlando eluded to signing earlier tonight?

Mark is quite correct in his insinuation, because tucked under AWOL’s armpit is a contract, and in his palm happens to be a pen. If anything could bring Psycho’s disturbing plans to a screeching halt it would be the arrival of the former General Manager, the man at one time he aspired to be like.

The former mentor, protégé relationship that soured between Psycho and AWOL makes this moment all the more poignant. AWOL moves up the steps and through the ropes, showing an incredible set of balls by taking a few risky steps towards a man who has shown NO respect for anyone, whether it be a fellow competitor, a legend, or even a mentor. No matter who you are, nor what you’ve accomplished, Psycho won’t hesitate to take you down. For some reason he hesitates as AWOL steps past the bodies in the ring and comes face to face with him.

Comeau: AWOL and Psycho standing opposed in an IWC ring. This isn’t a sight I ever thought my eyes would once again behold.

Susie: At least you have eyes, I think I’m blind, I really can’t see anything past the gleam from AWOL’s scalp.

The crowd continues to watch with their mouths cupped and their eyes as wide as dinner plates. They can’t even bring themselves to blink as two men with a checkered, storied history stand opposed in the ring. The tension is palpable, as thick as pancake batter. The sight of these two men holding back their more sadistic desires is so tense for the fans that they feel like nails are being dug into their flesh.

All they can do is watch with anticipation, wondering what the returning legend is going to do, or if Psycho is about to loose all semblance of control. With Axl and Johnson recovering on the canvas, AWOL and Psycho only have eyes for one another, not daring to divert their attention.

Psycho watches AWOL’s every movement, pupils focusing on the contract that the self described bastard and multiple time World Champion raises symbolically above his head.

GOOD INTENTIONS

The President stretches, twisting from side to side to get out the kinks.

His tired muscles are exerted once again as he limbers up for the rough road ahead. Although he may only be enforcing the World Title match, he may just be forced to put in as much effort as those competing in the ring. He raises his knee, wraps his arms around his shin and pulls it towards him, squeezing his thigh muscles.

Nathan: We need to talk.

During his stretching session, Orlando hadn’t even noticed the door opening, or Creed entering. But now he takes notice of Nathan strolling across the carpet of his still barren office, forced to give the aching Creed his unwavering attention.

Orlando: Yes, I think we do.

Creed relieves the pressure on the bag of ice held to the back of his neck, wondering what Cruze is eluding to.

Creed: I take it you saw what Kingdom did to me?

Orlando pauses in the middle of putting on his black enforcer t-shirt, almost a bit offended by the question.

Cruze: Do you think I would be watching anything else? It’s not like I’m sitting back here watching re-runs of Friends. There’s only so many times you can laugh at Ross’ precocious monkey.

Nathan: You know, I fail to see the humor in Kingdom RUINING my final shot at payback against Evans. I don’t get how you can joke after I was labeled a manipulative BASTARD by Christian Savior of all people, and Kingdom is actually stupid enough to by into it.

Orlando: Do you see me smiling?

Creed: No, but your awfully cavalier for a man who just watched his friend get screwed, and had his reputation sullied.

Cruze: Part of me knows where your coming from, Nate, but another part of me understands Kingdom’s position as well.

Nathan: WHAT!?!

Nathan looks towards the ceiling, exhales and tries to keep calm even when his world is crumbling.

Creed: Are you hearing yourself?

Orlando: I’m not deaf.

Nathan: By interfering in my match, a match YOU let the fans pick, Johnny SPIT in your face….

Cruze: Yeah, and I seem to remember YOU spitting in his face LITERALLY.

Creed: What’s that supposed to mean?

Orlando: It means that you DO have issues with Kingdom.

Nathan: Any problem I had with Kingdom was resolved before earlier tonight, so if your insinuating that I was the one who attacked him…..wait, wait, why am I explaining myself to you?

The look on Orlando’s face shows that he believes the answer to be obvious.

Creed: I thought if anybody, anyone on the roster would know that I’m trustworthy, it would be you. Are you taking Christian’s word over mine, MINE!?!

Cruze: Of course I’m not, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn't consider all the evidence, a lot of which is pointing to you.

Nathan almost wants to walk out on Cruze, but knows just how much their friendship still means to him.

Nathan: Yeah, and it’s all circumstantial. I’m looking you in the eye, not as a friend, but as your brother, and telling you I had absolutely nothing to do with the attacks on Johnny Kingdom.

Although Creed’s words are passionate and sincere; Orlando cannot allow himself to be swayed by mere speeches

Orlando: Any other time I would believe you, but I’ve still got to consider you a suspect. What were you thinking coming out during that title match last week in the first plac….

Creed: I was trying to follow your example.

Cruze is fed up with not being able to finish a single thought tonight.

Nathan: I was just trying to live up to the moniker that you passed down to me. All I wanted to do was be the IWC’s Icon and take a stand against Savior.

Orlando: By keeping him from interfering in one of Johnny Kingdom’s matches….?

Creed: I know Johnny and I don’t see eye to eye, never have, never will, but I wasn’t being selfish, I was taking a page out of your book and putting the IWC ahead of my own petty hatred. I was just trying to bring a little bit of respect back to the World Title….

Cruze: Okay, okay, I hear you, Nathan, but that doesn’t change the fact that I still need to look into you.

Nathan: FINE!

Creed gives up, throwing his arms out to his sides, not able to deal with his best friend accusing him. Of everyone on the IWC roster, he’d never suspect that Orlando would once again be in doubt of his credibility.

Creed: But your not going to find anything, your just going to be wasting time while Savior continues to attack Kingdom and screw with the World Title. Speaking of which, I assume since your taking a stand with me, that your going to take a standing with Kingdom as well TONIGHT.

Orlando finds himself almost bothered by the unsavory implication.

Orlando: What’s that supposed to mean?

It takes him a moment but Nathan realizes what it sounds like he’s implying.

Nathan: Wait, I wasn’t insinuating that since your special ref your going to….

Cruze: I don’t want to know what you meant.

Creed: Although….you do have the power to put Kingdom’s ego in check and show him that there are consequences for his action….

Orlando: Just stop…

Nathan: I’m just saying something has to be done and this is the perfect opp….

Cruze: STOP!

The President is threw with playing things civil. After a night of frustrations the last thing he’s going to do is indulge the mere notion of costing Kingdom the title. An act that would contradict everything that his presidency is built around.

Nathan: Okay. I see how it is. He just gets off Scott free huh, and I have to stand back here being given the fifth degree? If Kingdom doesn’t have to put up with it, neither do I.

Creed makes sure to slam the door as he leaves the official. Now Cruze has even more stress building up on his shoulders, but he doesn’t crumble under it. He goes back to straightening his enforcer shirt and preparing himself for the biggest main event in Riot! history.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Now Available on DVD

CHRISTIAN SAVIOR VS. HURSE

“House of the Rising Sun” plays throughout the PA system and the fans respond with the obligatory repulsion. Although his music is somewhat drowned out by the ambient noises of an angered crowd, Hurse makes his way to the stage, looking more dejected than ever. Not only is he without Katelyn, but now Porno Lad, his mortal enemy may very well be selected to officiate his match. Cold chills go down Hurse’s back and his stomach knots up in fear on his way down the ramp, unsure what he’s in store for.

Comeau: The non-stop action continuing on a night that has really surpassed expectations thus far.

Susie: Thank God my expectations were so low.

Mark: Indeed. On his way to the ring is a man who finds himself in the center of a truly twisted, sordid situation. We found out earlier tonight that Hurse will have to fulfill a number of demands in order to secure the safe return of Katelyn Buehler. But his mind need be on this match and not on those demands.

Moore: The next thing they’ll probably want him to do is find Cindy Lopper so she can perform “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” as Team Desire’s entrance theme.

Obviously the last place Hurse wants to be is in the ring, he’d much rather be backstage trying to find some assistance against Team Desire, but contractual obligations trump his desires.

10...

9...

8...

7...

6...

The crowd starts booing as the countdown continues, as it signifies the arrival of a certain superstar. Their jeers quiet as the countdown reaches...

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

A series of bright fireworks go off as people yell and boo the recognizable countdown.

You think you know me?!

I’m…

As the smoke clears, Christian Savior is seen with his back to the audience, his arms outstretched!

Falling in the black
Slipping through the cracks
Falling to the depths can I ever go back
Dreaming of the way it used to be
Can you hear me

Spinning around, the figure reveals himself to be Christian Savior, wearing his black pants and phoenix-logo shirt, along with a long black trenchcoat. The IWC Tag Team Title is wrapped around his waist, his palms caressing the gold.

Falling in the black
Slipping through the cracks
Falling to the depths can I ever go back
Falling inside the black
Falling inside falling inside the black

Savior makes his way down the ring, ignoring what words are being shouted by the audience.

Tonight I'm so alone
This sorrow takes ahold
Don't leave me here so cold
(Never want to be so cold)

Your touch used to be so kind
Your touch used to give me life
I've waited all this time, I've wasted so much time

Don't leave me alone
Cause I barely see at all
Don't leave me alone, I'm

Savior climbs up onto the apron, removing his coat. He discards it to a stagehand then slips through the ropes with the title still shimmering around his trim waist. He finally removes it and tosses it through the ropes to the outside of the ring.

Comeau: And here’s another individual who finds himself at the center of a very controversial situation. Earlier tonight he offered Evans his guaranteed World Title shot and claims that he is a changed man.

Moore: Large doses of hormone injections will do that. I still fondly remember that summer I had a Bob Villa beard.

Mark: Yeah. Anywho, Christian probably should have asked Evans to have his back tonight, considering the list of possible special referees. Let’s just say, Christian, nor Hurse for that matter, have not endeared themselves to any of the potential refs.

Hurse takes a deep breathe at the sight of the Rising Phoenix, Savior limbering up in his corner. Despite the realization that he’s completely on his own tonight, Savior looks surprisingly pleasant, relaxed even. That is until ring announcer Kailey Worf steps forward to reveal the result of the voting.

Kailey: Ladies and gentlemen, at this time we will now show the voting results and reveal the Special Guest Referee for this one on one match.

The crowd cheers, eager to see the fruits of their texting labors.

Kailey: First, the options; Nathan Creed, Riggs and Porno Lad.

All three faces appear on the Cartel-Tron, set up side by side. Savior runs his hand through his hair, realizing just how homicidal he’s made each of the selections.

Kailey: Now the winner, by a slim margin of just 39% of the votes tallied…….RIGGS!

The Manhattan Center goes nuts and Savior looses his grin. The very man he eluded earlier now has another chance to get some revenge against him for last week’s travesty.

Mark: WOW! Riggs has been voted in as the special guest referee for this match, meaning he’ll have the opportunity for payback.

Susie: YAY! We get to see the evil Ronald McDonald again! Hopefully he makes me a balloon animal.

“The Sacrament” hits the PA system and all eyes deviate to the stage in anticipation of Riggs’ arrival. While Hurse and Savior collectively loathe the concept of Riggs serving as special ref, the fans cherish the ideal. Sadly their excitement turns to dread once they realize that Riggs isn’t coming out. The curtains remain as still as a painting, no sight of the special referee.

Mark: Erm, okay, where is Riggs?

Susie: Eating Raman Noodles out of a skull somewhere?

The fans are growing impatient while Savior finds his smile returning. That’s when the Cartel-Tron switches from Riggs’ entrance theme to his dressing room backstage. The muffled sounds of his voice can be heard from behind his door, desperately trying to push it open. Unfortunately a forklift finds itself wedged in front of the doorway, making it impossible for Riggs to vacate his dressing room.

Comeau: What? Someone has got Riggs trapped in his dressing room.

Moore: I wonder who it was….te-he-he.

Mark: I can only imagine who.

Just as Savior breaks out into laughter, Kailey once again kills his buzz. After consulting with a stage-hand at ringside, she makes another jarring announcement.

Kailey: Ummm, uhhh, due to Riggs being unable to appear, the Special Referee will now be the individual who placed second in the voting……PORNO LAD!

Despite being deprived of Riggs as special ref, the secondary option is equally as gratifying for the fans. They cheer the moment that “Original Prankster” hits the PA system and Porno Lad swaggers to the stage. A referee jersey clings to his body while he swings a key around his finger.

Comeau: I guess Porno Lad gets what he want…..wait a minute, is that a forklift key he has around his finger?

Susie: All I know is that it’s shinny, so I hope he gives it to me as a present.

Mark: I knew it. Porno Lad trapped Riggs in his lockeroom, just so he could be special referee. There’s no telling what he did to Nathan Creed.

Savior looks appalled and Hurse appears terrified, both men having quite the history with the individual now slated to be special referee. Porno Lad smiles like he’s never smiled before as he hops to the apron and orders Kailey to vacate the ring.

With the eyes of both competitors locked on him, Porno Lad calls for the bell to officially start the match.

Porno Lad: Let’s get it ON!

The bell repeatedly chimes in the background but neither Hurse nor Savior are eager to lock up with one another. They give each other a quick glance then turn their attention right back to Porno Lad, who is tapping his striped shirt repeatedly.

Porno Lad: If either of you two even think of getting yourselves disqualified, I have it on good authority from Orlando himself, that you’ll be suspended on the spot.

Now that they have no other option, Savior and Hurse begrudgingly step across the ring and lock up into a collar elbow tie. The two men jockey for positioning until Hurse swings around and places Savior in a quick arm ringer.

That’s when Savior drops into a forward roll across the canvas then turns to his knees, facing Hurse who still has hold of his wrist. He crawls forward, right between Hurse’s legs then stands up behind him and applies a rear waist lock. He hoists Hurse into the air and twists so that he slams him down to the canvas with an amateur wrestling move.

The second he connects with the canvas, Christian swings around over top of Hurse’s back and places him in a front chancery. Hurse stomps his knees to the canvas, trying desperately to get out of this hold and back to his feet. Porno Lad just stands back, watching the action and enjoying the sight of both men traumatizing one another.

Comeau: This match officially underway, and I can already tell by that look on Porno Lad’s face that he’s not going to call this one right down the middle.

Moore: I hope we see him force Christian and Hurse to use mackerel, that would be like Optimus Prime WICKED!

Hurse begins to stand up before he twists his body out of the front chancery and counters into a side headlock. Porno Lad yawns at this technical display as Christian tries to force himself to his feet, head still trapped in the submission hold. That’s when PL steps in grabs Hurse by the shoulder, pulling him off of the hold.

Porno Lad: Stop pulling the hair!

A stunned Hurse protests, saying that he was nowhere near the hair, giving Christian just the time he needs to step in and waffle Parkwood across the jaw with a devastating right hand. Hurse crashes to the canvas and Christian lunges into the air, coming down knee first directly into his opponent’s face.

Hurse sits up, grabbing at his wounded skull while Christian slips up behind him and applies a rear naked coke hold.

Porno Lad: HEY! What did I say about pulling the hair?

He steps in and pries Savior’s arm off of Hurse’s throat, and now it’s Christian’s turn to protest.

Savior: Are you BLIND!?! I was nowhere near his God damn hair. Why don’t you call this match fairly?

Porno Lad: Then stop BORING me with submission holds. Hit each other, and hit each other HARD!

Clearly Porno Lad wants his two rivals to inflict as much punishment on one another as possible. That plan seemingly flies right out the window when Hurse grabs a distracted Savior from behind and drags him down into a school boy. The fans are screaming, realizing Hurse may have snuck through the doggie door and picked up a win only to realize that no count is being made.

Instead Porno Lad has his back turned towards the pin-fall, bending over and picking up a penny that inexplicably spilt onto the canvas. He flips it up into the air just as Hurse breaks his own pin-fall and grabs the Prankster by his shoulder. Porno Lad is spun around, forced to listen to even more bitching.

Hurse: What the hell are you doing man? I thought we came to an understanding!

Porno Lad: You thought wrong. Why am I not surprised?

Hurse is so livid that he almost can’t resist throwing one of his balled up fists into Porno Lad’s face. Somehow he resists the temptation, reminding himself over and over again that Katelyn’s well being is at stake, and he would do her no good should he be suspended.

Therefore he turns back towards Christian, having no idea that he was laying in wait behind him, ready to unleash one of his most potent maneuvers. Hurse turns right into the diamond cutter, but wait, somehow he’s able to counter before the move fully connects.

He wraps his arms around Savior’s waist and drops back into a roll up, pulling Christian down so that his whole body is positioned on top of his shoulders. Hurse sits on the back of Savior’s thighs, going for the pinfall.

Once again Porno Lad fails to live up to his job obligations. This time he’s leaning against a turnbuckle, waving to Susie.

Mark: Porno Lad taking a moment to flirt with my broadcast colleague when he should be counting the three.

Susie: No, this is what he SHOULD be doing. I think he’s doing a fantastic job.

Comeau: And I’m not surprised, why?

Moore: Because you’re an android devoid of human emotion?

Savior kicks out even though a count wasn’t even being made. The kick out launches Hurse forward and across the ring, sending him rushing straight into the ropes. He bounces off and comes back in at a rising Savior, jumping into his chest with a crossbody. He connects and both men crash to the canvas, Hurse briefly laying on top of Christian’s sternum before the Rising Phoenix rolls backwards into his own lateral press.

Porno Lad finally drops down and makes an excruciatingly slow count.

1

Hurse kicks out well before the second slap of the canvas. Christian rises to his knees, finding the temptation to slap Porno Lad almost too alluring. All the while the N.H.B Champion is rubbing painfully at his elbow.

Porno Lad: Damn this tendonitis.

Christian transfers his rage into blows that connect with Hurse’s face. As both men reach their feet Savior delivers a powerful right that connects straight to his opponent’s forehead. The blow sends Hurse staggering backwards before Christian moves in and delivers another shot, this time directly under the jaw.

Mark: Porno Lad once again refusing to make the three count, and now his rivals go right back to pummeling one another.

Susie: I think Porno Lad should referee every single match on the card from now until eternity.

Another shot lands directly between Hurse’s eyes, knocking him backwards into the turnbuckle. He leans on it for support as Savior comes charging in and going airborne. He wedges his feet to Hurse’s ribs and drops back, launching his opponent into the air with a monkey flip.

Hurse crashes painfully across his back, reaching for his spine immediately. Savior pulls himself up into the turnbuckle, standing on the second rope while Hurse staggers towards his feet. Just as Hurse reaches an upright base, Savior comes flying out of the corner and nailing a Missile Dropkick.

Comeau: Christian going airborne. For a man of his small stature, we surprisingly don’t see him go high risk very often.

Moore: I know why too. He’s so small that if he gets caught in a gust of wind it may very well carry him right out of the Manhattan Center all the way to Disney Land. Then he’d be forced to become one of those animatronics in that It’s a Small World After all ride.

Mark: Your logic is beyond comprehension.

Susie: I’ll assume that was a compliment.

Hurse convulses and writhes on the canvas while Savior kneels beside his opponent. Despite Porno Lad’s horrid officiating, his confidence is building. Christian crawls into the lateral press once again, this time hooking both of Hurse’s legs after that dropkick met its target. Surprisingly Porno Lad drops to the canvas and makes the count, albeit incredibly slowly once again.

1

2

Hurse kicks out with more than enough time to spare. Savior whispers some obscenities beneath his breath before standing up and lunging into the air. He comes down delivering a vicious stomp straight to Hurse’s face, causing his opponent to once again writhe across the canvas.

Savior now kicks his hair back, having firm control over this match. He turns towards Hurse who struggles valiantly to reach his feet, getting to his fists and his knees. That’s when Savior comes barreling in and delivers a hard kick directly to his temple.

Hurse is sent rolling across the ring, ending up near the ropes. He grabs hold of them and in his dazed state begins dragging himself to his feet. The moment that he stands up, Christian moves in and delivers a knee to Hurse’s ribs, doubling him over. He steps back and then delivers a second knee, further busting up the insides of his opponent.

That’s when Christian places him in a front chancery, steps back and hoists Hurse up into the air for a suplex. Instead of dropping back, Savior plants Hurse right across his ribs on the top rope.

Hurse hangs over the top cable, half inside the ring and half out of it. That’s when Savior steps in and places his opponent in a front chancery before delivering a sickening swinging neckbreaker. Hurse is dragged down off of the top rope and slammed viciously across the back of his head.

Comeau: Ohhh, what a deadly move just utilized by Savior. That may have broken Hurse’s neck.

The fans may despise Savior, but they are exhilarated by that last maneuver that leaves Hurse perhaps crippled across the canvas. Savior slides in and hooks both legs once again, realizing that victory is on the cusp of being achieved. Once more Porno Lad drops down and makes a surprisingly steady count.

1

2

Hurse still has the energy left in his ailing body to kick out. This time Christian has no point in arguing with the referee considering that the cadence of his count was fair and unbiased. Porno Lad stands up shouts “two” towards the audience, who echo his statement.

Mark: Shockingly Porno Lad made a fair count there but it wasn’t enough to earn the three for Savior.

Moore: Porno Lad amazes me more and more every day, he even knows how to count to three. Maybe he’ll teach me.

Comeau: I think your beyond being taught anything.

Hurse’s body may be pulsating with pain but he still employs the ropes to begin standing up. After several seconds of struggling and gritting through the punishment, Hurse stands up and turns right into the Original Sin. The code breaker connects with enough force to permanently render Hurse unconscious.

Mark: Original Sin connects and now Christian is seemingly seconds from victory.

Savior takes a moment to relish yet another win as he crawls towards Hurse and hooks the veteran’s legs for the pinfall. The crowd finds themselves yet again surprised as Porno Lad drops into position and makes the three count. They chant along with every slap of the canvas, realizing that Savior has just secured himself a win.

1

2

3!

The fans are already starting to boo over Savior’s win before their tune drastically changes. They now have provocation to cheer considering that Porno Lad’s hand never slapped the canvas for a third time. Instead of making the full count, Porno Lad stops at 2 and a half then rolls out of the ring approaching Susie. He takes both her hands and plants kisses on the back of her knuckles.

Mark: Oh come on….

Moore: Shush! Susie can always use a bit more lovin’.

She blushes brighter than a tomato as Porno Lad steps back, smiling in her direction. The one person who doesn’t react very well to this romantic gesture is Christian, who is throwing a fit in the ring. He slaps the canvas with his fists and shouts towards the heavens.

Comeau: Savior had the victory, there was no doubt about that, but once again Porno Lad stopped his own count in order to make this match go even longer.

Susie: I’m okay with that, just means we get even more Porno Lad.

Even though he should be getting back into the ring, Porno Lad is instead approaching the time keeper, requesting that they fork over their chair. One is promptly handed to the referee who backs towards the ring then discreetly slips the steel under the ropes.

Porno Lad: Woops!

Christian looks at the chair then at Porno Lad’s turned back, realizing he has the perfect opportunity to inflict catastrophic damage on the prone Hurse. The opportunity is enticing but Savior refuses to fall for it, thinking that its all part of Porno Lad’s plan to catch him red handed.

He sticks his head through the ropes and begins shouting at Porno Lad to get back into the ring and call the action already. The prankster instead pulls out a whistle, puts it in his lips and acts like a NFL referee. He turns towards Savior blowing the whistle straight in his face and almost popping his eardrums.

Savior yelps from the pain in his ears and turns around to face a now upright Hurse. As he spins around Christian is booted to the ribs, Hurse placing him in a front chancery so that he can DDT him onto the chair. Savior is able to wedge his hands to Hurse’s ribs at the last second and push him off though.

Hurse staggers backwards just as Christian rushes backwards into the cables, bouncing off and coming back in at his opposition. Suddenly Hurse catches the inbound Savior, swinging around into a big spinning powerslam that plants Christian violently spine first onto the chair.

Comeau: And that is just the move Hurse needed to hit to keep his chance of victory alive. And at this point, Christian is probably thinking it might be better not to kick out.

Savior bridges his back from the chair, roaring in anguish while Hurse rolls under the ropes to the apron and grabs the top cable. He shakes off the effects of that Original Sin then springs to the top rope and comes flying off. The crowd is amazed as Hurse connects with the big flying splash.

He crashes down on top of Christian’s chest, driving his back even further into the steel then rolls off and grabs the raised legs of his opposition. Almost instinctively, Hurse turns Savior over onto his stomach, steps over his back and folds him up like an accordion with the Legend Lock.

Mark: Legend Lock! Now the Legend Lock is applied. After Savior was slammed into that chair this may just the ticket for Hurse.

Moore: I hope it’s a ticket to Transformers 2. A transforming garbage disposal, a remote control car humping Meagan Fox’s leg, it’s like the greatest movie EVER!

Savior pushes himself up onto the points of his elbows, crying out in agony over the way his body is being contorted. He digs his claws into the canvas and somehow finds the adrenaline needed to begin crawling towards the ropes. Hurse sits down even further on the lower back, the pressure almost too much for Savior’s injured back to withstand.

Yet somehow he scrapes and claws his way towards the ropes, which are getting closer inch by agonizing inch. Finally he finds himself within arm’s length of the ropes, his hand desperately extending towards them.

That’s when, oddly, the ropes seem to move further away from him. A confused Christian looks up and realizes that Porno Lad is pulling the rope back from the outside of the ring, keeping Savior from reaching them.

Mark: Now Porno Lad is just being too blatant.

Moore: Somebody has got to test those ropes once and a while.

Comeau: What kind of test could he possibly be doing?

Susie: I don’t know, maybe he’s going to tell it to turn its head and cough.

The crowd is buzzing as Savior screams threats at Porno Lad. The warnings prove futile, Porno Lad keeps holding onto the bottom rope and Hurse drags Christian back to the center of the ring. He sits down on the upper spine of his opposition, twisting Savior up like he were a pretzel.

Porno Lad slides back into the ring finally, crawling towards Christian and asking him whether or not he submits.

Savior: NOOOOO!

The N.H.B Champion inquires once again only to receive yet another loud “no” from Savior. Unfortunately for Christian, his desire may be strong but his body is giving out. The way that his spine is being bent, coupled with that slam onto the chair is starting to take its full effect on the former World Champion.

After being trapped in the hold for such an extreme length of time, and realizing that no matter what he does Porno Lad will never allow him to reach the ropes, Savior utters the two words nobody has heard him speak since his arrival in the IWC.

Savior: I quit….

PL: What?

Christian: I QUIT!

Porno: Pardon?

Savior: I fucking quit, I QUIT, I QUIT, I QUIT!

He begins slapping the canvas to emphasize his point but Porno Lad acts as if he has no idea what Christian is saying.

Comeau: Savior tapping out for perhaps the first time in his IWC career and yet Porno Lad isn’t even acknowledging it.

Moore: Oh no, maybe he’s gone mute.

Mark: Muteness is the inability to speak, Susie.

Now Hurse is even screaming at Porno Lad.

Hurse: He said he submits, call for the bell!

Porno Lad shrugs, still pretending to have no idea what’s going on. Christian’s hand slaps the canvas slower and slower until he gives in completely, his head falling lifelessly against the canvas.

Comeau: And now I think Savior has passed out from the pain of the Legend Lock.

Christian’s entire body is limp and now Hurse is pleading with Porno Lad to stop the match on the basis that his opponent is unconscious. It appears that Porno Lad has no other option but to call for the bell, he ascends to his feet, cracks his knuckles and begins turning towards the time keeper.

That’s when he spins around and without warning delivers the Epic Fail straight to Hurse’s face. The brutal blow sends Hurse flying back, breaking his hold then rolling under the ropes to the outside of the ring.

Mark: Now Porno just cracked Hurse in the face with that spinning superkick. He’s taking full advantage of this opportunity to torment BOTH of his rivals.

Susie: He probably saw an ant on Hurse’s face and wanted to knock it off.

Hurse is sprawled across the mats, eyes glazed over and staring into the rafters, just like at Paranoia VI. A calculating Porno Lad is left unopposed in the ring with an unconscious Savior. A smirk forms on Porno Lad’s face at this point, tapping his temple and overlooking the fans who quickly realize what he’s about to do.

He drops to his knees, pushes Savior to his back and hooks both of his legs before shouting for a referee.

Mark: Now it becomes clear what Porno Lad was doing all along. He wanted Savior worn down enough for him to easily pin the Rising Phoenix and end their excessively long Hardcore Match. Now all he needs is a referee.

Susie: Isn’t he a referee though? Or is he just wearing that shirt to blend in with all the other referees?

Comeau: I think he wants this to be legally binding, and I’m pretty sure counting his own pinfall would be anything but legal.

Porno Lad desperately cries out for an official to make the count, growing impatient. An official finally answers his call, but it’s not the referee he was banking on. Nathan Creed charges down the ramp, still dressed in a referee shirt on the contingency that the fans would have voted him in as the official.

Comeau: Nathan Creed charging out here, he was the final selection for the Special Referee spot in this match. I guess he’s going to officiate here tonight one way or another.

Moore: It’s not fair, everyone gets to be a referee but me.

For the first time ever, Porno Lad is actually happy to see Nathan, who slips into the ring and makes the three count. Clearly Creed wants to see Savior further tormented by losing his Hardcore bout to the ever annoying prankster.

The fans are screaming with each slap of the canvas that Creed makes.

1

2

Just before the full count can be made Savior launches a shoulder from the canvas, kicking out on instinct alone.

Mark: WHAT!?! I don’t know how it was possible, but Savior somehow snapped out of it long enough to get a shoulder up.

Susie: You mean Porno Lad didn’t win? Awww.

Porno Lad looks as if he just had a pine cone shoved up his ass. His eyes are wide and his jaw is dropped, realizing that Christian kicked out and his plan has failed. Naturally blame is deflected onto Creed, who he immediately begins chastising for the cadence of his count.

Nathan stands up and listens to the angered screams of Porno Lad, but quickly realizes that he doesn’t have to take it. Therefore, the already emotionally unstable Creed, launches his skull directly into Pat’s face with a head-bunt. The blow connects with Porno Lad’s eye, knocking him to the canvas and causing him to convulse as he rolls to the outside of the ring.

Comeau: Creed not out here to listen to Porno Lad bellyache, he just wants to exact some revenge on Savior himself, and the N.H.B Champion was getting in the way of that.

Susie: How dare Nathan hit him with his head, that big bully, with his misshapen teeth, and his roid rage.

Nathan has had enough with the whole referee fiasco, he rips off his striped shirt and tosses it down on top of the prone Savior. Although Christian kicked out he still doesn’t have the strength to stand, leaving him entirely exposed for a vindictive Creed.

The Future slips through the ropes and slaps the top turnbuckle pad, bringing the fans out of their seats in a wave of excitement. He begins climbing the turnbuckle at this point, reaching the very top rope and signaling for the Tribute.

Comeau: Creed is going to deliver the Tribute, the very move that Savior countered for the victory last week.

Nathan is on the verge of taking flight with the crowd cheering him on before a woozy Hurse hops to the apron beside him, wedges his hand to Creed’s thigh and shoves him off the top rope. Creed flies to the outside of the ring and crashes down right on top of a recovering Porno Lad. The two special referees tumble to the mats while Hurse starts up the turnbuckle.

Mark: A meeting of the minds at ringside, Creed being shoved off of the top and sent crashing into Porno Lad! This night just spinning further and further out of control like a tornado ripping through a trailer park.

Moore: I lived in a trailer park once, if you consider a cardboard box a trailer.

It doesn’t take long for either Porno Lad or Nathan to find their way to their feet and this time they waste no time in arguing. They immediately trade blows as in the ring Hurse makes it to the top rope, steadies himself then turns around and back flips off of the turnbuckle into a moonsault.

Just as the crowd prepares to see Hurse connects, successfully for a change, with a match ending maneuver, Savior rolls out of the way of the moonsault. The fans find themselves shocked once again by Hurse, as he alters his move at the last conceivable second and lands on his feet.

Hurse only has a moment to celebrate his dazzling agility before he’s taken around the back of the head and pulled down into the code breaker, Christian catching him right after he landed. Savior finds himself stunned once again though by Hurse, when he pulls his head back, preventing being pulled down into the raised knees. He instead catches Christian by the creases of his knees and flips forward into a surprising jacknife cover.

With both legs hooked and his opponent caught completely off guard, Hurse preys that someone will come along and make the three count. With Porno Lad and Nathan preoccupied by their brawl on the outside of the ring, neither man spots referee Harris rushing down the ramp and sliding into the ring.

Comeau: Here comes referee Harris!

Moore: Yay, his hair is so silky smooth?

Official Harris makes the count.

1

2

3!

The Manhattan Center unleashes a surprising wave of cheers over Hurse's victory.

Hurse sits up celebrating his win, just as shocked as the fans to have pulled out this squeaker of a pinfall. He has little time to celebrate before Christian sits up and goes after him, prompting Parkwood to high tail it from the squared circle.

Comeau: Savior doesn't like how he was caught out of nowhere with that pinfall, and I can't say I blame him after everything he went through in this encounter.

The referee explains himself to a furious Rising Phoenix while outside of the ring, Creed and Porno are doing anything but recognizing the conclusion of the bout. They are still beating one another down even as the bell chimes in the background.

Mark: I think Chris….hold the phone!

Moore: I thought I was….oops, I was actually holding my….

Comeau: SHUSH!

The crowd is changing their tune, going from boos to cheers when they spot Riggs sliding into the ring, Singapore cane once again in hand.

Mark: Riggs found a way out of his dressing room apparently, and he’s here for some retribution.

This time Savior doesn’t get away, instead his tired body turns just in time to be whacked over the head with Riggs’ cane. The blow almost shatters the staff and sends Christian collapsing to the ring. Before the ref can launch a protest he’s slapped with equally as devastating force across the forehead with the cane as well.

Mark: Riggs free from his metaphorical cage and now he’s reeking havoc with that Singapore cane.

Moore: You shouldn’t put Riggs in a cage, it’s inhuman, he should be unleashed into the wild.

Neither Nathan Creed or Porno Lad are aware that Riggs is free as their brawl takes them back into the ring. Porno Lad is rolled under the ropes by Nathan, trying to follow the N.H.B Champion in and get his hands on the man standing between himself and Savior.

He just begins to insert his furious, still aching body into the ring when Porno Lad wisely begins to stomp him to the back of the neck and head, the very area damaged by that Exodus Finale onto a chair. PL even goes as far as to lunge into the air, dropping knee first into the back of Creed’s neck, further exacerbating any proper injuries.

Now that he’s got Creed down and writhing, Porno Lad stands back up, smug grin forming on his face and the realization setting in that there’s nobody left to keep him from completing his Hardcore Match with Savior. He realizes just how wrong he is upon turning towards a patient Riggs, who was waiting for just this opportunity.

He swings the cane into Porno Lad’s ribs, doubling him over then slapping the Singapore staff directly over the prankster’s back. Porno Lad curls into a ball on the canvas as Riggs stands over him, his weapon of choice still clutched tightly in hand.

Moore: NOOO! Clowns aren’t supposed to hurt people, well, not funny people at least. That’s like committing cannibalism.

Mark: Riggs now turning his attention to Porno Lad, the very man who presumably locked him in his dressing room earlier. He has completely snapped here tonight, and several people have been caught in the wake of his rapture.

With a collection of talent sprawled across the canvas, Riggs backs away, eyeing his handiwork. He slips through the ropes and to the apron then tosses the cane back inside. It lays symbolically beside the bodies of Porno Lad and Christian Savior, both men writhing from the blows they’ve taken from this very weapon. Suddenly, a loud, booming voice comes over the speakers.

Voice: ARE YOU TIRED WITH THE BORING AND MUNDANE?!

The camera pans around the arena as does Riggs, confused as to why his moment has been interrupted.

Mark: What’s this about now?

Susie: Maybe their giving away Viagra. I suggest you get some Mark.

Riggs and the camera continue to search for the source of the voice.

Voice: ARE YOU READY FOR A CHANGE?!

Suddenly, the video tron flickers to life, showing a video of Ron and Bob, trying to figure out who in the ULW is on steroids

Voice: UHHH... NO... NEXT ONE, SALLY!

The video changes to a picture of the streets

Voice: ARE YOU TIRED OF YOUR WRESTLERS COMING FROM THE STREETS, YO!

The video changes to an abusive mother hitting her child

Voice: GETTING BEAT ON, NOBODY LOVING THEM!

The picture changes to Christopher Cagero, a professional trainer for wrestlers.

Voice: EXCEPT FOR THEIR PERSONAL TRAINERS!

The video changes to a baby crying.

Voice: THERE, THERE LITTLE CHILD, YOU WON'T BE TORMENTED TO THE SAME OLD BULLSHIT ANYMORE.

The video changes to fans cheering.

Voice: YES! FINALLY YOU HAVE SOMEONE TO LOOK UP TO!

The video changes to a bull, charging at a matador.

Voice: SOMEONE WITH REALLY BIG BALLS!

The video changes to a carebear stare.

Voice: SOMEONE WHO CARES ABOUT YOU!

The video changes to a man walking on the moon.

Voice: WITHOUT DOUBT, THE MOST EXCITING MAN IN THE WORLD!

The video changes to Simon Cagero standing in the middle of the ring, screaming into the mic.

Simon: SIIIIIIIIIIMOOOOONNNNNNN CAAAAAAAAGGGGEEEERRRRROOOOOOOO!!!!

Voice: AND FOR THOSE THAT DON'T AGREE...

The video changes to Simon pointing out at the fans.

Simon: You'll end up like everybody else.... WASTED!

The video fades to black.

The audience is absolutely exhilarated, their hearts racing at the thought of a Simon Cagero return to the IWC. The only person who doesn’t share that same burst of adrenaline is Riggs, taking none too kindly to the poorly timed airing of the vignette.

Mark: Well we saw them earlier but now we can officially confirm it! These vignettes show that Simon Cagero is BACK! And he will return to the ring NEXT WEEK! What a shocker!

Susie: That was just like when I stuck a cue tip in a wall socket, I’m STUNNED, and strangely aroused.

Comeau: Yet another stunning return, cutting into the chaotic action in the ring. And just like Psycho, I’m sure Riggs isn’t going to handle this interruption well. And I’m POSITIVE that none of them laying in the ring are going to handle what Riggs did to them politely.