OPENING VIDEO PACKAGE

RIOT!

The opening video cuts away and the cameras go live to the interior of the Manhattan Center. Pyrotechnics erupt from the stage and rafters, dazzling the audience with a barrage of bright shinny colors. They respond on cue to this visual stimuli, hopping from their seats, flailing their arms in the air and acting like they all consumed mass quantities of ecstasy.

Mark Comeau: Two weeks removed from our trip to Vegas the IWC finds itself at home in the Manhattan Center for the final edition of Riot! before the pay-per-view.

Susie Moore: Awww, we’re still in Manhattan? Couldn’t we do the show from some-place as fun as Vegas? Like in Oz, only without all those creepy munchkins?

Mark: Seeing as Oz is a mythical realm I don’t think Riot! will be emanating from there anytime soon. Besides, I think the personalities that will be clashing on tonight’s telecast will be far more over the top than anything L. Frank Baum ever dreamed up.

Susie: L Frank Baum?

Comeau: He’s the guy who wrote Wizard of Oz.

Moore: What? It was a book? I don’t like it anymore.

MAX CRAVEN VS. AWOL

YOU BETTA GO AWAY!

The moment that AWOL’s entrance music kicks in two mushroom cloud explosions emanate from the right and left of the curtains. Through them steps the returning AWOL, the Big Crazy Bastard occupying the entry way to a deafening roar from the crowd. The former World Champion gazes over the audience with eyes so chilling they could freeze over the fiery pits of hell, and hell is exactly what he intends to unleash on his opponent. He starts down the ramp once everyone has gotten a good look at his intense frown and depraved eyes. Once in the ring he leans on the top cable forearms first, not appearing very spirited for his first match back.

Comeau: And tonight’s telecast gettin’ started in a big way….

Moore: Literally. I think AWOL has never heard of the word “salad.”

Mark: We’re on the verge of witnessing something I never thought we’d see, AWOL’s official in ring return! It’s been almost two years since he’s competed, but from that look in his eyes it appears that he hasn’t lost any of those animalistic instincts.

AWOL frowns in the direction of the scab official Gray, who has the audacity to pat him down. The fans are a lot more excited than the former World Champion for his in ring return.

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. A black-with-green-trim-robed figure emerges from the back as the music gets to the first verse.

Just let me ask you--"HEY..."

He is accompanied by another robed figure, quite a bit smaller, and her hood is lowered, revealing Mercy Heaven. They reach the center of the stage.

"...Have you heard of my RELIGION??"

They pause and lower their heads as Mercy goes behind the robed figure.

"It's called the 'Church of Hot Addiction', and we believe that God has lust for ev-er-y-thin'...cuz NOW..."

The robed figure thrusts his arms out and the robe suddenly "flies" off his body into Mercy's hands, accompanied by outward-shooting pyros from either side of the ramp, revealing a grinning MAX in the middle of the spark-storm.

"...The time has come for your DEVOTION...and you already got the NOTION...of what I need; so give it, just give it, just give it to me...(you're will-ing, I'm wait-ing...turn out the lights!)"

The lights melt down during that line, then they begin flashing even faster on the next line as MAX runs to the ring at medium speed, Mercy walking to the backstage area with the robes in hand. He slides in under the bottom rope and humps his way back up to his feet.

"To-NIIIIIIIGHT...I am the drug you can't deny! To-NIIIIIIIGHT...G-A-B-E gonna get you high...my light is ELECTRIC..."

He climbs the near corner and crosses his arms over his head, mouthing the words "TWO WORDS!", but they can't be heard over the crowd and the music.

"HEY HEY HEY! My light is ELECTRIC, yeah...HEY HEY HEY! My light is ELECTRIC...HEY HEY HEY! My light is ELECTRIC, yeah...HEY HEY HEY! My light is ELECTRIC!"

MAX hops down from the 2nd rope, spinning around and spinning grandiosely (with arms thrust out) to the center of the ring.

Mark: Here comes AWOL’s first opponent, Max Craven, who actually VOLUNTEERED for this match.

Susie: He must be a sadomasochist. Seriously, I think I saw whips and chains in one of his videos.

Comeau: Well he better be watching that he doesn’t get whipped in the ring tonight. With AWOL’s ring rust, this may be the perfect time to face him.

Craven steps into the ring and glances at his opponent only a second before turning his back on AWOL and gesturing to the crowd. The official turns to signal for the bell when AWOL bolts across the ring and delivers a deadly forearm strike right to the back of Craven’s neck.

Comeau: A cheap shot from AWOL to get this match underway. It looks like he hasn’t lost that killer instinct at all.

Forearm strike after forearm strike connects with Max’s upper back, AWOL grunting all the while. The official steps in and grabs him by the thick arm, trying to drag him off. He succeeds in pulling AWOL back by a few inches before the former GM casts the referee aside.

He starts back towards Max who delivers a surprising punch right to the gut of his much larger opposition. AWOL is only momentarily phased before he steps back in and delivers an ungodly stiff kick, his shin connecting directly to Craven’s chest. The blow sounds like a cannon being fired in the Manhattan Center and sends Craven flying back, crashing across the canvas then rolling over to his elbows and knees.

A red streak is left across Craven’s chest from the kick as he slowly tries to stand. He gets to his feet, albeit stooped over, when AWOL steps in, takes him around the back of the head and delivers a deadly knee right to his face. The shot is so stiff that it seems to render Craven unconscious upon impact.

Comeau: Did you hear how STIFF that knee strike was?

Moore: It was stiff as Ron Jeremy.

Mark: It seems AWOL hasn’t missed a step in the ring, he’s still as vicious as ever.

Craven is toppled over onto his back with AWOL sitting down on his chest and unloading with forearm after forearm. The point of his elbow nails Max to the temple a few times and the jaw, almost breaking the bones in his face. Gray steps in and grabs AWOL around the crease of his elbow, trying to force him off of Craven once again.

AWOL is surprisingly subdued for the moment by the concerned referee, giving Max just the precious few seconds he needs to slide into one of the corners. Max pulls himself up to his seat with his spine pressed to the corner, eyes fluttering. That’s when AWOL comes charging in and delivers a face wash.

Comeau: Ohhh, now the face wash.

Susie: Good, Craven was looking greasy.

The blow to his skull sends Craven into convulsion as he rolls under the ropes to the outside of the ring. He drops to the mats across his knees, grabbing at his jaw and trying to re-set it.

Comeau: It appears that the face wash may have cracked Craven’s jaw.

AWOL steps through the ropes, putting one foot on the apron before Max turns and jumps into the air. He dropkicks AWOL’s ankle, knocking his leg out from under him and dropping him to his knees across the apron. That’s when Craven pushes past the head trauma, lunges to the apron ad takes AWOL around his wide neck. He falls back into a DDT, planting his opponent’s thick head directly against the hardest portion of the ring.

Mark: Craven wisely using his speed to dish out just as much as he can take.

The DDT has AWOL reeling as he rolls back into the ring, nearing the center of which. Max stands up sluggishly on the apron, grabbing the top rope in the process. He’s about to take flight as his opposition stands up in the center of the squared circle.

He now goes springboard, hopping to the top rope and flying off into a big dropkick that nails AWOL to the sternum. The blow knocks both men down to the canvas with the crowd jumping out of their seats, starting a chant for their hometown hero.

Comeau: And with a well placed dropkick Max takes the S.O.B off of his feet. Craven definitely holding his own against the former World Champion here in our opening contest.

Susie: What does S.O.B stand for? I hate acronyms, they force me to think.

Mark: Which I imagine can be quite painful.

AWOL obviously wasn’t expecting such a challenge, his stunned body rolling to his elbows and knees. That’s when Max steps in, clobbering him over the upper back, then doing so again. AWOL is actually shaken up by the blows as he gets to his knees, wedges his hands to Max’s stomach and shoves him off backwards into the ropes.

Craven bounces off of the cables and launches himself off into a flying kick. His shin connects right with the bridge of AWOL’s nose, knocking him to the canvas while Craven rolls away from him.

With AWOL spread across his back, Craven rushes into the ropes at his side, springs from the middle one and twists around into a big leg drop connecting straight across the throat.

Mark: If Craven can keep this up he might just pull out the upset. His speed appears to be too much for AWOL to keep up with, especially given his ring rust.

Max climbs on top of his opposition’s sternum, going for the pin.

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2

AWOL presses Craven off of him, sending him flying across the ring and almost landing right on top of the official.

Max scrambles to his feet while AWOL gets to his elbows and knees, trying his best to push through the blows that he’s already suffered. He starts to stand up, putting one foot on the canvas when Max swoops in delivering a straight punch to the jaw.

The shot doesn’t take AWOL down, prompting Craven to step in and slug him across the forehead once again.

Comeau: I don’t know how wise it is for Max to be brawling with AWOL. He’s one of the more prolific strikers in the annals of IWC/ULW history.

Susie: Stop with the acronyms!

AWOL’s best defense is to once again shove his faster opponent away. He wedges his hands to Max’s stomach, pushing him backwards but that only gives him a slight reprieve. Craven charges back in, steps off of AWOL’s raised knee and delivers an enzugari to the back of his massive adversary’s skull.

The stiff strike knocks AWOL down to his forearms and knees, causing him to shake his head to knock the bats out of his belfry.

The fans are mostly behind Craven as he steps in and takes AWOL around the neck. He drags him up to his feet and then swings around, placing him in position for the reverse neckbreaker. He grinds his hips in an ever so Rick Rude-esque fashion only to have AWOL surprisingly spin around and wrap his arms around Max’s neck, trapping him in a rear naked choke.

Mark: AWOL may just strangle the life out of Craven’s body, that would be one way to slow him down.

Moore: Or he could knee-cap him, or break his ankles, or buy a pear of rocket skates to keep up with Craven.

Max jumps into the air, falling to his seat and pulling AWOL along with him into a modified jawbreaker. AWOL’s jaw bounces from the top of Craven’s head, sending him staggering backwards into the ropes. Max rises to his feet and comes charging at AWOL who steps out of the corner attempting to take his opposition’s head off with a lariat.

Craven ducks it, jumps to the middle rope behind AWOL and springs off. He twists in mid-air, landing on top of AWOL’s shoulders and going for the hurricarana. However, the former champion refuses to be taken over, he plants his feet and lifts up on Max, bringing him up onto his shoulders.

Just before AWOL can go for the powerbomb, which would be so painful it even shatter Max’s mother’s spine, Craven performs a surprising counter. He places his palms to the top of AWOL’s skull and pushes himself over, landing on his feet behind his opponent’s back.

He reaches up, grabs AWOL around the head and pulls him down into a reverse neckbreaker.

Mark: I’m stunned here. I mean I know AWOL hasn’t been in the ring in a year or two, but Craven is really taking it to a multiple time World Champion, demonstrating that he can hang with the very best.

The neckbreaker may have just sealed AWOL’s fate, Craven counting on it as he crawls into the cover. Scab Referee Gray makes the count.

1

2

AWOL launches a shoulder from the ring, preventing a loss in his return match.

Mark: The neckbreaker just not enough to finish off this monster.

Moore: If AWOL’s a monster shouldn’t he have bolts in his neck, or at the very least be an evil doll possessed by the soul of Charles Lee Ray?

Max is stunned that the neckbreaker wasn’t enough to finish AWOL off, but he goes right back on the offensive. The returning AWOL gets to his knees when Max nails him with an upper cut shot that almost takes him over. Max steps in and hits another uppercut, followed by a third one, causing AWOL to weave back and forth on his knees.

Craven steps in for another knock out shot only to have AWOL cut him off with a horrific palm strike to the cheek. The jaw breaking force of the blow sends Craven spiraling back towards the center of the ring. He doubles over, holding his mouth in agony while AWOL lumbers to his feet and comes charging in for a knock out shot.

Max once again surprises his opponent by lunging from his feet and connecting with a dropkick to AWOL’s sternum, sending him staggering towards the ropes. AWOL bounces off and comes stumbling back towards Max who leaps into the air and connects with a spinning heel kick.

Mark: Look at Max go.

Susie: If he’s leaving tell him to pick me up a….

Comeau: Yeah, yeah, snow-cone, blah, blah.

The heel of the boot meets AWOL directly to his forehead but doesn’t take him down. He staggers around, almost tumbling over several times but swinging his right arm to remain upright.

The fans are hyping up Craven, giving him just the motivation he needs to get a running start. He ricochets from the cables and comes back in at his vicious opponent, hopping into the air and nailing a forearm strike. The collision almost causes AWOL to loose his footing but somehow he still remains upright, huffing and puffing all the while.

Craven rushes backwards into the ropes, bounces off and comes back in at his opponent, on the verge of lunging into yet another forearm strike. However, AWOL launches a boot into the air, threatening to take Max’s head off. Craven ducks the boot, charges into the opposite cables and comes rushing back in at his opponent’s exposed back.

That’s when AWOL spins around, wedges his hands to the inbound sternum of Craven and throws him up into the air. Max catches tremendous height before AWOL lunges upward, catches him around the neck and pulls him down into a big diamond cutter.

Comeau: OHHHH what a cutter from AWOL!

Max writhes on the canvas like a fish out of water, holding his head in the process. AWOL turns to his knees and crawls into the lateral press, wedging a forearm against Max’s face.

1

2

Craven launches a shoulder from the canvas, kicking out with just a few sparse moments remaining. AWOL gives the official a stare that would terrify even Freddy Krueger.

A sweaty AWOL rises to his feet, takes Craven by the hair and drags him along to his knees. Once in a kneeling base AWOL slaps him violently to one cheek, then the other. The blows knock the taste out of Craven’s mouth as AWOL bends over, wraps his arms around Max’s waist and dead lifts him from the canvas into a gutwrench.

He sets him up perhaps for an over the shoulder back breaker only for Craven to twist free. He rolls off of AWOL’s shoulder and lands on his feet behind his back before stunning everyone, his opponent especially by connecting with a step up knee strike to the back of his head.

Mark: Another impressive move from Craven. Max really showing us something here tonight.

Susie: And this time it has nothing to do with his penis.

AWOL turns and hits a turnbuckle back first, leaning against it for support. He is catching his breathe, eyes glazed over when Max barreling in for the kill. He lunges into the air, flying straight at AWOL who clears out of the way in the nick of time.

Craven lands on the middle rope, his back turned towards AWOL when a forearm drills him straight into the kidneys. Max cries out in pain from the blow as AWOL grabs Max’s wrist, pulls it between his legs and hooks the other one. The fans erupt as AWOL drops back into the DAISY CUTTER.

Max crashes into the canvas violently enough to shake the entire ring. AWOL turns and crawls into the lateral press, hooking his leg.

Comeau: Daisy Cutter completely out of nowhere, it may have shut down Max for good.

Susie: I thought he had an off switch, he tries to hide it behind that ridiculous plastic cup in his pants.

Mark: Uhhh, yeah.

AWOL crawls into the lateral press, wedging his forearm into Max’s cheek in the process. Although uneccessary, AWOL actually grinds his wrist across the eyes as the count is being made.

1

2

3

And the fans find themselves ridden with despair. Several cheer out of respect for AWOL, others boo after seeing their hero thwarted after such an incredible showing.

Comeau: AWOL returns, and he returns with a victory. That Daisy Cutter hasn’t lost any potency.

Moore: Just like the pot that my mom smoked when she was pregnant with me.

Mark: That only explains a fraction of your idiocy.

The scab raises AWOL’s wrist in victory but the last thing the returning legend is interested in is celebrating. He pulls the wrist from the official’s hand, swatting him aside and taking out his frustration on his still stunned opponent. With Craven barely conscious he’s forced to his seat and his pain is exacerbated thanks to a modified abdominal stretch.

Before Craven can even begin recuperating from the inverted pumphandle, he finds himself reeling from another move. His twisted body is hoisted from the canvas and placed in the War Crimes.

Mark: Now there is NO reason for this. AWOL, you won the match, why are you attacking Craven?

Susie: I don’t think he can hear you, Mark, but it’s okay, I brought along this pigeon, we can tie a note to it’s leg and throw it in the ring. Well, as soon as it comes out of this egg.

For some inexplicable reason, so inexplicable in fact that AWOL probably doesn’t even understand it, he just has to further punish Craven. Perhaps using Max as a means to relieve his stress after being forced back into the ring thanks to a messy divorce and financial peril. Despite the motivations, nothing can alter the fact that AWOL is mangling Max’s body in the War Crimes. Even the official is powerless to pry him off.

Mark: Just let go, AWOL! Max doesn’t deserve this, the man just put in a tremendous showing. I think he’s earned your respect, not THIS!

Moore: I think he’s earned more than respect, I think he’s earned a HUG from ME, and my autograph on a picture of Yogi the Bear.

Comeau: This isn’t funny, Susie.

Susie: Are you kidding me? Yogi the Bear is HYSTERICAL!

Mark: That’s not….for God sakes Max is being assaulted.

AWOL’s distant eyes give not a clue as to why he’s doing this to Max, and keeps on doing it up until Orlando’s security force slides into the ring. They are Johnny on the spot to enter the ring and pry AWOL off of his near unconscious opponent.

Mark: Thankfully security out here to separate AWOL from Craven. I think Orlando knew what to expect from this crazy bastard, even after he’s been gone from the ring for almost two years.

It isn’t until AWOL is physically pulled away from Craven that he begins to show emotion. It’s raw, it’s animalistic in nature, his face flushing red and his eyes fleshing out his rage. They center on one of the unfortunate guards gripping him by the bicep, the ever so gentle touch enough to elicit an aggressive response from the former General Manager.

His incredible hard skull connects with the guard’s scalp, knocking him to the canvas and busting the young man open upon impact. Naturally the rest of the security guards jump back, appalled by AWOL’s behavior. They’re stunned just long enough for AWOL to storm between them, drop behind Craven and begin blasting him with forearms all over again.

Mark: AWOL is right back on top of Craven. Why is he doing this, is AWOL trying to make some type of point to the roster he feels let him down?

Susie: I hope he doesn’t mean me? I’ve always been a stellar employee. I even made him coffee once.

Comeau: AWOL has a lot of issues with the roster and in his head.

Moore: His head is large enough to fit a lot of stuff into. I wonder how much he charges to rent it out?

Forearms continue to nail Craven to the back with security finally snapping into action. They surround him, wrapping up his arms and his neck, once again trying to pull him away. Max is so out of it that he doesn’t even know what’s happening, he just lays on the canvas oblivious to the torture AWOL is still trying to dish out on him.

That’s when salvation appears, not in the form of an out of shape former cop or roided up body builder, but a close acquaintance of Craven, his tag team partner Axl Evermore. With Cartel Title strewn over shoulder, Evermore gallops gallantly towards the ring, throwing his own well being aside to save Craven.

Comeau: And now Axl taking it upon himself to rescue Max from this out of control AWOL.

Axl slips into the ring, fists clinched and ready to attack the mammoth AWOL. The moment that AWOL’s eyes lock on Evermore they form pulsating targets on the carotid artery, the former GM lunging with open palms towards it. Thankfully the roided up security personnel capture his arms and allow Evermore to get in a few free shots to AWOL’s forehead, helping to subdue the big man.

Mark: Axl and security forced to work together to get AWOL under control.

Moore: Might I suggest tranquilizers? I do have a blow gun to shoot tranquilizing darts. Porno Lad gave it to me.

Comeau: Ummm, Susie, that’s not a blow dart, but it is something that requires a semi-regular blowing.

Security is quick to get Axl under control as well, pulling AWOL out of range of his fists. The S.O.B drops to the canvas, rolls to the outside and slaps the apron violently with both palms. The force of the strike reverberates the canvas, shaking it under Axl’s feet.

As security exits the ring and builds a cell around AWOL, the legend is powerless to get his hands on Evermore, even as Axl verbally berates him from the ring.

Comeau: Security finally getting AWOL under control and out of the ring. That’s good news for Ma….but here comes BAD NEWS for Evermore.

Axl continues his attempt to lure AWOL into the ring, using every curse word in the book and even making up a few of his own to get under his skin. For some reason though, AWOL doesn’t even make an attempt to break free from the human wall formed around him. His reasoning becomes clear the moment a lariat connects to the back of Axl’s neck, toppling him to the canvas.

Comeau: PSYCHO blindsiding Evermore from behind!

Moore: I’ll pay for Axl to have the surgery where he has eyes implanted in the back of his head. He’ll sure look funny though.

Mark: I’ll tell you what isn’t funny though…..

Susie: Bill Mahr?

Comeau: No, this rampage by the Sadistic One.

Boot after boot now lands to the back of Evermore’s head, delivered by his rabid, unstable rival, a man obsessed with not only the Cartel Championship, but retribution for perceived injustices committed by the current title holder.

Evermore was caught completely off guard, his focus on a now smirking AWOL leading to his downfall. Craven is incapable of lending Axl the same hand that Evermore extended earlier, leaving the Cartel Champion at the mercy of his savage nemesis.

Psycho lives up to his moniker of Sadistic One by grabbing the bandage on Axl’s head and ripping it clean off. The stitches still being used to close the gash opened in his head four weeks ago now becomes Psycho’s focal point. Punch after punch lands to the scar that has yet to close, producing blood for the third show in a row.

Comeau: Not AGAIN! Evermore being busted open for a second straight time by Psycho’s onslaught.

Moore: He bleeds so much you would think he’s a woman.

Not happy with just watching Axl bleed, Psycho wraps him up around the neck, bridges him up to his feet and tries to get his wounded prey in position for the Psychotic Episode. Evermore puts the kibosh on Psycho’s insidious plans, dropping to his seat and countering with a Fully Loaded Stunner.

Mark: Ohhhh yeah! Axl with a stunner! I wonder where he pulled that out of.

Moore: An area that can only be explored through a colonoscopy?

Somehow Psycho is still on his feet but only long enough to stagger backwards into the ropes and spill through them to the outside of the ring. He crashes down to his elbows and knees on the thin mats, trying to shake off the devastating stunner that may have broke his coocoo clock.

Even with blood dribbling down his face, a sensation Evermore has grown accustom to, he still storms towards the ropes and grabs the top cable, ready to risk chance once more. Obviously he’s about to take flight, going for a fateful plunge onto Psycho which would be totally worth the risk to his addled body.

Before he can soar like an eagle and crash like a boulder, Evermore’s feet are swept out from under him. To Axl’s surprise Psycho had enough brain-cells remaining to stagger to his feet and rips Axl’s out from under his body. Before Evermore can think up another move that would prevent sure annihilation and give Psycho a bittersweet taste of his own medicine, Axl’s legs are dragged under the ropes and wrapped around his rival’s head.

Psycho swings Evermore from the ring and straight into the barrier. The side of his head smacks against the steel plates lining the barrier and advertising the upcoming pay-per-view. Now all they advertise is a huge crater created by Evermore’s bloodied skull.

Comeau: AHHHH! Axl swung into the barrier like a bat hitting a grand-slam!

Susie: Can I make a steroids joke now? Please, PLEASE!?!

Mark: Umm, Susie, we work for a wrestling federation, I think we’re the last ones who should be talking about other sporting companies and roids.

In the battle of Evermore and barricade, the barrier prevailed. Evermore’s limp body lays beside it, after their up close and uncomfortable encounter. Even after this terrifying slam, that has the crowd sweating out of fear for Axl’s condition, Psycho isn’t finished.

With Axl’s bangs in his palm he drags Evermore towards the ring and rolls him in under the ropes. There’s no fight from Axl now, his head having connected all the wrong ways with the barricade, leaving him exposed to the modified abdominal stretch and the elbows that now connect rapidly to the gash in his scalp.

Mark: Not the elbows AGAIN!

Moore: Psycho shouldn’t be allowed to have elbows if he’s going to keep abusing them like this.

Elbow after elbow drills Axl’s face, opening the cut wider and wider until his face is submerged in a pool of bloody crimson.

Comeau: Security needs to get back out here, but I’m sure they’re having enough trouble subduing AWOL backstage.

Craven is once again none the wiser to his partner’s misfortune, his back turned to the gruesome display occurring in the ring. Evermore tries to remain conscious, to feed off the same adrenaline he had flowing in last week’s title bout, but after having his brains scrambled by steel he doesn’t have the strength to hang in there. History does not repeat itself, this time Evermore cannot keep going after giving another blood donation to the canvas. After weeks and weeks of attacks, the Cartel Champion cannot continue fighting.

Perhaps it’s because his belt isn’t on the line, or maybe the physical toll of each assault has finally caught up with him. Whatever the reason, Evermore slips into a coma, but even then the elbows continue connecting. Psycho licks his lips as if he were a fat child admiring a recently baked pie.

Mark: You’ve proven yourself Psycho, enough is enough, even for you.

The point of Psycho’s elbow meets the gash in Axl’s forehead again and again, until a lake the size of Eerie is flooding down Evermore’s face. The pleas of the audience are drowned out by the voices in Psycho’s head, voices telling him that Axl hasn’t had enough, that his punishment has yet to fit the crime.

It isn’t until Evermore finally passes out, a feat Psycho was incapable of accomplishing last week, that he releases Evermore.

Mark: Psycho stopping just short of killing Evermore in the ring with those elbows. Only the slightest of mercies.

Moore: There’s only one way that Psycho will learn mercy, you have to rub his nose in it or shake a can of pennies behind his back to startle him.

With his forearm and chest covered in the blood of his enemy, Psycho retrieves the Cartel Championship, a token of this war. To an overwhelming gesture of hostility from a packed Manhattan Center, Psycho symbolically raises the belt over his head, giving Evermore a taste of what he’s in store for at Upping the Ante.

Comeau: Will we see this same sight at Upping the Ante? Will Axl Evermore look through a mask of blood as another holds his Cartel Championship?

Susie: Yes, because I plan on teaming up with the X-Class and N.H.B belts to finally get our hand….strap…..hand-straps on the Cartel Title.

Mark: How many layers to your idiocy are there?

The title shimmers above Psycho’s head, filling him with a rare emotion, satisfaction. With blood on his hands and title in his grasp he feels at peace, an emotion he’ll be desperate to achieve yet again at Upping the Ante. Evermore on the other hand now has even greater motivation, beyond the preservation of his champion status to defeat the Sadistic One. He realizes there will be no greater retribution than to leave Psycho unsatisfied by retaining the very title held high above him.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Our Independence Day Comes to DVD

POOPERS’ PLAN

Sean Johnson could care less as his agent moans and groans before him. He consumes his time with splitting Oreos in half, eating one side and allowing Poopers to lick the cream from the other.

Agent Sarah Long: Your just not thinking productively, Johnson.

Johnson: Bwa?

The lack of actual words just goes to show how shocked Johnson is.

Sean: I think winning a title is productive.

Agent: But doing it on television, for free no doubt? You would be missing out on a boat load of cash.

Johnson: Would it literally fill an entire boat? I’ve always wanted to randomly use that, “I think we need a bigger boat” line. Jaws being the best movie EVAH!

Sarah: Would you take this seriously?

Sean: Believe me, Poopers is serious enough for the three of us.

The oddity continues licking the Oreo blissfully unaware that its name has been uttered.

Long: If you just wait until a pay-per-view, and get the crowd really amped up for this match, we’ll make more money than you can count.

Johnson: You mean I’ll make more money than I can count.

Sarah: Erm yeah. Commission not withstanding. But you understand now, right?

Sean shrugs.

Sean: You lost me.

He leans back in his chair, interlocking his hands behind his head. The Oreo has been lowered to the surface of the table that Poopers is kneeling on top of.

Sarah: You understand why it be counter-productive to challenge Axl for the title tonight?

Johnson: But it would be so perfect. I mean we’re already facing each other in the main event. All I have to do is let Christian or Robin do the lion’s share of the work, and then I can slip in after all is said and done, pin Axl and walk away with the belt. It’s PERFECT!

Sarah: Are you kidding me? That sounds like something Poopers would come up with.

Sean: Actually Poopers was the architect behind most of this. The whole plan is written in detail on this cocktail napkin. But watch out, there are a few boogers on it too.

Johnson’s agent refrains from taking the napkin from his outstretched hand.

Sarah: I’ll take your word for it.

Johnson: GOOD! Then we’re in agreement. Tonight I’ll leave as the NEW Cartel Champion. Just think about it, after what happened to Axl a few moments ago he’ll be in NO condition to defend himself. Why risk waiting till a pay-per-view when Axl’s back at 100%, it’ll be so much easier if I just defeat him now when he’s at his weakest.

Sarah: Wasn’t that your strategy last week? We all saw how THAT worked out for you.

Johnson in a fit of anger knocks over an entire stack of Oreos precisely arranged in a tower of chocolaty goodness.

Sean: That was only because of Psycho. If he hadn’t interfered I’d be Cartel Champion right now.

Long: And what’s to keep him from doing the same thing tonight? I mean, Axl might not even be permitted to compete in the main event after what just happened. I’m just saying that you’re risking everything, it’s too great a gamble. I went through hell to make sure you were still a contender for the Cartel Title and that the match last week was stricken from the record books. I don’t think I can work my magic on Orlando again.

Johnson: Sure you can, I don’t pay you the big bucks for nothing.

Sarah: You barely pay me anything.

Sean: Well….then we BOTH win.

Sarah: That makes no sense whatsoever. This…..this…..this is all just going to blow up in your face again. Logically you should wait till Axl and Psycho are done destroying each other at Upping the Ante, then at the very next pay-per-view you face the survivor. Either you’ll win the Cartel title over a weakened opponent, OR you’ll get a huge pay day. It’s a win, win situation.

Johnson strokes his jaw, contemplating the logic of his Agent’s argument. After looking into Pooper’s cream smeared face he comes to a decision. After snapping his fingers he bolts upward from his chair.

Johnson: THAT’S IT! I’ve got it.

His agent doesn’t like where this is going.

Sean: Poopers and I will just take Psycho out TONIGHT! Then he’ll be incapable of ruining my Cartel Title shot against Evermore. My God, that’s BRIIILLLIANT!

Johnson snatches up Poopers.

Sean: Now if you’ll excuse us, Poopers and I have to work quickly!

A flabbergasted agent turns to watch Johnson scurrying off. She throws her arms up into the air in frustration.

Sarah: Don’t risk going after Psycho again! Your competing in the main event, if you get injured you’ll miss out on that main event bonus. Think about the bonus Sean, the BONUS!

She traipses off after Johnson, leaving the table and the Oreos behind. They are left alone only for a few moments before another figure enters the scene. With a towel wrapped around the back of his neck, a sweaty AWOL slips into Johnson’s chair and kicks back.

AWOL: Hmmm, main event bonus indeed.

Obviously Johnson’s agent has got the wheels in AWOL’s head turning. A twisted plot hatches in the Big Crazy Bastards mind as he twists the top from an Oreo and begins grinding it up in his palm.

PSYCHO VS. TOO MAGNIFICENT
NO DISQUALIFICATION

Soldier Side is still playing through the PA system but there is no need for a Psycho entrance. The Sadistic One remains at ringside, his elbow and the canvas stained with Evermore’s blood. Besides blood, another of Axl’s prized belongings is positioned in the ring, or more accurately in the hands of Psycho. The golden strap is stretched across the forearms of the Sadistic One, taking a long, somber look at his reflection in the belt.

Comeau: All throughout the break, while Axl Evermore was being assisted to the backstage area, Psycho has been standing out here holding that Cartel Championship. I don’t think he’s moved an inch after that disgusting display. An attack that may have taken Evermore out of the main event entirely.

Susie: I think the Cartel Title got in Psycho’s ear and totally motivated him to do this. That belt is just like the house from Amytville Horror, only, less like a house and more like a belt.

Mark: Would you stop blabbering for…..ummm, why is Psycho coming our way?

Moore: Maybe he’s going to let me play with that evil belt.

Psycho has dropped to the outside mats and approaches the announce table, all the while keeping his eyes strangely focused on the belt. Finally the Cartel Title is draped across the surface of the table and Psycho backs away, giving the strap a chilling glare.

Comeau: Psycho leaving the belt on our announce table, a title that Psycho is perversely obseesed with.

Susie: Excellent, the Cartel Title is now joining us on commentary, I can finally ask it some hard hitting questions.

The cold gaze of the silent lunatic remains locked on the belt even as he rolls under the ropes and back into the ring. “Animal I’ve Become” hits the PA system and finally takes Psycho’s attention off of the belt. His penetrating gaze shifts to the entry way, beady eyes now focused on the arriving Too Magnificent. The big man stops on the stage and lifts an object HE’S obsessed with into the air, the solid steel trash-can. Scab referee Harris rushes around Too Magnificent and towards the ring, not bothering to grab his weapon from him, realizing that everything in this impending contest shall be completely legal.

Mark: And now another individual who answers only to the voices in his head, Too Magnificent, making his way down the ramp, weapon in hand for this no disqualification match. We learned last week that Too Mag was acting almost as Psycho’s hired goon, brought in to soften Axl up and ensure that Psycho walked away with the Cartel Title. That plan backfired and Too Magnificent was blamed.

Moore: I blame the Cartel Title, it’s always undercutting people.

Comeau: As a result Psycho challenged Too Magnificent to this no disqualification match and is looking to hurt him for his failure to truly hurt Axl. Judging by what Psycho did to Evermore just a few moments ago, I shudder to think of what he’s going to do to Too Magnificent.

Too Mag moves up the steps trash can gripped tightly, ready to unload on the man who bitch slapped him last week. Psycho gives him no time to prepare himself, charging straight at Too Magnificent only to find himself the one caught off guard. TM raises his trash can and swings it down directly into Psycho’s skull. A large dent is left in the steel as the Sadistic One staggers backwards.

Comeau: And this bout underway with a trash can shot to the cranium.

Susie: That’s how all matches should begin.

The bell chimes in the background as Too Magnificent moves over the ropes and towards the turnbuckle. He steps up to the second cable in reverse, lifts the can above his head and flies out of the turnbuckle. The garbage can slams over a still standing Psycho’s head.

The sound of the collision echoes throughout the arena and the crowd screams at the sight of Psycho stumbling around. Too Magnificent’s eyes widen in shock, realizing that Psycho is still upright, that even after two shots from his trademark trashcan he’s yet to fall his rival.

Once again Too Mag raises the can into the air and swings for a third time. The trashcan slams over Psycho’s skull yet he’s STILL standing.

Comeau: My God, what does Too Magnificent have to do in order to get Psycho off of his feet?

Moore: Buy him a prostitute?

The speechless Too Magnificent, his lower lip quivering in disbelief, charges back first into the ropes. He bounces off and comes back in for the knock out shot only to be drilled under the jaw with a sickening, stiff uppercut. The blow causes Too Mag to drop his can and stumble in a terribly disorientated state. He looks like he’s downed an entire bottle of vodka, mixed with a tequila chaser.

With his opponent dazed, Psycho grabs Too Magnificent by the bangs, charging him straight at the nearby turnbuckle. Before Too Mag can put the breaks on it, he’s driven face first into the corner. The collision causes him to stumble back towards the center of the ring.

Psycho steps towards him, grabs the back of his hair and charges him at the turnbuckle once again. Too Mag’s face slams against the turnbuckle, and his body turns around, falling against the corner for support. With his opponent prone in the corner, Psycho steps to the center of the squared circle, scrapes his feet to the canvas like a bull and charges at Too Mag like he were a matador.

He lunges into the air, twisting around and throwing himself spine first at his massive opponent. Too Magnificent steps out of the way and Psycho’s spine almost shatters upon impact with the corner. He reaches for his kidneys and comes stumbling out of the corner when Too Magnificent charges up behind him, grabs a handful of hair and the belt of his pants.

Psycho is charged at the diagonal corner, stooped over and thrown through the ropes shoulder first into the exposed post.

Comeau: Too Mag pitching Psycho through the ropes shoulder first right into that exposed post.

Moore: There’s no need to take out your frustrations on the turnbuckle gentlemen.

Although his shoulder and clavicle may be cracked, Psycho refuses to go down, even as he’s dragged backwards into the waiting arms of his sociopathic opponent. Too Mag hooks both of Psycho’s arms from behind, hoists him into the air and drives him down via the full nelson slam.

Mark: Too Magnificent showing that INCREDIBLE strength. I think he hit the gym a few more times after Craven’s comments last week.

Moore: I hit the gym too, with rocks, because all the equipment inside scares me.

Psycho’s prone body lays beneath Too Magnificent as he springs to the second rope and connects with a Vader bomb. As soon as he lands, he hooks Psycho’s leg for the pinfall.

1

Psycho launches a shoulder from the canvas, surprising Too Mag with his timely kick out. The big man rises to his feet, lunges into the air and stomps straight down into Psycho’s face, further mangling it.

The ever aggressive Too Mag steps towards the turnbuckle, moves up it and prepares for yet another Vader Bomb. He climbs to the second rope when Psycho shocks him yet again, recovering fast enough to step up behind his rival and under his seat.

Too Mag’s eyes widen as he’s dragged away from the turnbuckle into an electric chair drop position. Instead of Psycho dropping back though, he wedges his hands to Too Mag’s rump, shoves him over head and sends him crashing face first into the top turnbuckle pad.

Too Magnificent is rattled by the blow, backing up into Psycho’s arms and being placed in position for the Psychotic Episode. That’s when Too Magnificent uses his brain instead of brawn, rushing forcing, dropping down and sending Psycho flying face first into the turnbuckle.

Comeau: Too Magnificent barely avoiding the Psychotic Episode, saving himself before it was too late.

The impact with the corner has Psycho all shaken up, his brain rattled around in his skull. Somehow he is still standing as Too Magnificent rolls under the ropes, throws the tarp hanging from the apron into the air and reaches under it. A trash can lid is removed just as Psycho recovers and swoops in.

He steps towards the ropes, reaches through them and receives another brain scrambling shot via a blow from the trashcan lid. A large dent is left in the lid and a bump forms in Psycho’s forehead. He flails his arms to remain upright this time, but is only given a fraction of a second to recover.

Too Mag quickly slides into the squared circle and swings a Singapore cane directly into Psycho’s ribs. The blow doubles him over and sounds like a gunshot reverberating throughout the Manhattan Center.

Comeau: A cane cracking Psycho in the ribs!

Moore: Why must so many inanimate objects be abused by these two?

Too Magnificent steps back, lifts the cane into the air and prepares to bring it down over the spine of his nemesis. That’s when Psycho spins around, reaches up and catches the cane with both palms before it could connect.

The brute’s eyes widen, Too Magnificent flabbergasted that his weapon failed to connect. Psycho now goes for the intentional low blow. His boot almost connects with Too Mag’s gonads only for the big man to drop his cane and catch the ankle just before it could turn him into a soprano.

Unfortunately when he drops the cane, Psycho catches it, raises it into the air and swings for the fences. The cane nails Too Mag directly against the shoulder.

He drops the foot and turns away from Psycho who continues to swing the cane, this time connecting with his upper back. Too Magnificent roars in anguish as he stumbles into the ropes. He falls against them, turning his back to the cables when Psycho takes the cane long ways in his hands, rushes forward and nails Too Mag to the windpipe.

The cane almost lariats Too Magnificent over the ropes, sending him flipping to the outside. Despite taking the numerous blows from the cane, Too Mag lands on his feet, albeit stooped over and gasping for air. He is upright for a moment at least before Psycho throws his whole body weight through the ropes into a suicide diving headbunt.

Both men crash to the mats amongst a rousing reaction from the crowd. They are quite enthused at the sight of the hefty Psycho taking flight and crashing into Too Magnificent like he were an airplane with the engines cutting out.

Comeau: And now Psycho using his own body as a weapon, taking both men to the mats.

Moore: So if I take Psycho by the ankles and swing him around, that makes him into a weapon, a legal weapon? How fun?

Too Mag lays sprawled across the mats with Psycho getting to his feet and giving the fans the most harrowing of glares. His expression makes the hair on the back of their necks stand on end, but Psycho could care less about their reaction, far more consumed with further punishing Too Magnificent

His blond bangs are taken hold of once again and he’s pulled to his feet before being slammed face first off of the barricade. Too Magnificent bounces from the steel, turns away from Psycho and begins staggering in the direction of the steps.

Psycho steps up behind him, takes his head and drives him face first into the stairs. Too Mag stands up, swaying back and forth, looking as lost as a sheep left in the care of a negligent little girl.

Comeau: Psycho now using the entire ring as a weapon.

Moore: He can make a weapon out of anything. He’s just like McGuyver, without the perm.

Too Mag’s punishment continues as Psycho leads him around the ring and this time pitches him face first into the exposed steel turnbuckle post. The big man bounces off of it and instinctively rolls into the ring to create some space between himself and his vengeful opponent.

All the while Psycho steps towards the crowd and demands to have one of their chairs. Obviously no one in the crowd is going to refuse his demand, one of them quickly forking their chair over to the demented one. With steel in hand, Psycho moves towards the ring, ready to swing for the fences.

He slides in under the ropes and begins to stand up when a wobbly Too Magnificent descends upon him. Too Mag steps in and nails a right hand to Psycho’s temple, followed by another shot this time to the jaw. The strikes cause him to loose control of the chair and stumble to his feet.

Comeau: Too Magnificent cutting Psycho off, keeping himself alive in this contest.

Moore: And he didn’t even have to use shock paddles.

Another vicious haymaker from Too Magnificent takes Psycho through the ropes and to the apron. His crafty opponent steps over the cables in front of him, now in possession of the almost sacred chair. The moment that Psycho gets to his feet on the apron, the chair is driven long ways into his ribs.

The blow has Psycho doubled over as Too Magnificent pitches the chair into the ring, takes his wounded opponent around the neck and delivers a vertical suplex onto the apron.

Comeau: OHHHHH!

Moore: PHILLY CHEESESTEAK!

The suplex sends Psycho crashing forcefully right against the edge of the ring as both he and Too Magnificent spill over to the mats.

Mark: Too Magnificent delivering a vertical suplex on the apron and it may have just shattered Psycho’s back!

The Sadistic One reaches for his kidneys, obviously in a lot of pain as he struggles to his feet. Somehow he’s able to rise only to have Too Magnificent wrap his arms around his waist and power him back first into the apron. Psycho once again roars in pain from the collision with the ring, Too Magnificent now spinning him around and rolling him in under the ropes.

It doesn’t take long for Too Magnificent follow him inside and crawl into the lateral press.

1

2

Psycho launches his shoulder from the ring, preventing defeat by a mere fraction of a second. In frustration Too Magnificent stands up, grabs the chair and sets it up on the canvas.

Comeau: That chair being set up, which normally leads to bad things happening to bad people.

Moore: I always knew that chairs were evil, just like certain title belts. Isn’t that right, Cartel Title?

Mark: I don’t think you’re going to get a response out of it.

Susie: It is awfully tight lipped.

Although hurting from the physicality of this match, Too Magnificent is still capable of dishing out the pain. He grabs Psycho around the neck and with his back turned towards the fully erect chair he calls out for the Midas Touch. Just before he has the chance to dump Psycho on his head, the Sadistic One twists his body, freeing his head from the front chancery and countering.

He wedges his shoulders to Too Magnificent’s ribs, hoists him into the air and twists towards the chair. That’s when his back gives out however, the suplex onto the apron leaving him incapable of sustaining his opponent’s weight. Too Magnificent slips off of his shoulders and lands behind Psycho, prompting the Sadistic One to bolt towards the cables.

He bounces off and comes back in at Too Magnificent who catches him, palms wedged to Psycho’s chest and stomach, throwing him up into the air. That’s when Psycho comes crashing down face first into the seat of the chair.

Comeau: Now Psycho going face first into that chair thanks to Too Magnificent’s ungodly strength.

The collision with the chair doesn’t take Psycho down, he ricochets from the steel straight up to his feet. He’s up just long enough for Too Magnificent to step in, hook both arms and connect with a reverse Russian Leg Sweep, slamming Psycho down face first into the chair yet again.

He bounces from the steel and drops to his back, Too Magnificent crawling on top of him with the lateral press.

1

2

Psycho again stuns the world, Too Magnificent more importantly, with a kick out.

Mark: These guys sure can take a beating. In fact, they’ve been brutalizing one another for as long as the IWC has been open, for almost the past six years now.

Susie: You would think they’d get bored of it by now and just start watching Cops. Cops is the ultimate boredom relief.

Although Psycho’s head may be throbbing like a road crew were taking a jackhammer to his brain he begins to stand up. All Too Mag can do is watch with a sick grin on his face, amused that Psycho is actually trying to reach his feet. He gets a knee beneath him when his opponent steps in and goozles him. His hand wraps tightly around Psycho’s throat, forcing him up to his feet then grabbing the back of his pants.

A stunned Psycho is hoisted into the air and driven spine first into the canvas with a devastating chokeslam.

Comeau: Another raw display of strength from the Golden One.

The force of Psycho’s body slamming into the ring sends shockwaves throughout the canvas, the squared circle rumbling beneath Too Mag’s feet. Instead of going for the pin Too Magnificent decides to risk it all by grabbing the steel chair, folding it up, placing it over Psycho’s face then heading towards the ropes.

He slips through them to the apron, scaling the turnbuckle to the top and preparing for flight.

Comeau: We could very well be on the verge of seeing the Arrogance is Bliss. That incredible flying leg drop.

Susie: Too Magnificent does have some incredible legs, they’re all shaved and shinny.

Psycho rests under the chair, none the wiser that the man he brought back to the IWC is about to end his career with a leg drop. Too Magnificent stabilizes his gargantuan frame on the top rope and then performs a breathtaking dive. With an extension of his leg, Too Magnificent connects thigh first with the chair, but NOT Psycho’s face.

Somehow the Sadistic One cleared out of the way in the nick of time, leaving Too Magnificent to nail only the chair and suffer the consequences.

He falls to his back, grabbing at his thigh and roaring in anguish. He is blissfully unaware that Psycho is now crawling to the top rope and climbing up it to the very top.

Comeau: Now Psycho is going high risk with his opponent’s leg paralyzed.

Too Mag falls to his back, gripping at his thigh in anguish but realizes that his damaged leg is the least of his concern. He looks up just as Psycho flies off of the top rope and connects with a moonsault, all of his weight crashing down right on top of Too Magnificent’s mid-section.

Mark: MOONSAULT!

Susie: Mmmm, salt from the moon, I bet it’s just yummy. If Max Moon were here I’d ask him, but he’s too busy rolling around.

All the air is knocked out of Too Magnificent’s body as his leg is hooked by the Sadistic One.

1

2

The Scab Ref’s hand fails to meet the canvas a third time because Too Magnificent kicks out just before it has the opportunity to.

Psycho rises to his knees, eyes blazing with rage and teeth gnashing in irritation. He grips at his kidneys, still suffering the effects of that suplex on the apron coupled with the chokeslam. But no amount of pain can keep him from brutalizing his age old rival.

He once again grabs Too Magnificent by the hair, forcing him up to his knees and shouting into his face.

Psycho: This isn’t over, this will NEVER be over!

Too Magnificent, even while in crippling pain, smiles.

Too Magnificent: Good.

Psycho now engulfs Too Mag’s throat with both palms, leading him up to his feet and then preparing to hoist him into the air for his version of the gonzo bomb. Somehow Too Magnificent has the wherewithal to avoid it by delivering a knee directly to Psycho’s ribs, doubling him over from the pain.

Too Magnificent steps to Psycho’s side and then delivers a straight knee lift to his hunched over opponent’s face.

The blow echoes throughout the arena and causes Psycho to stand upright, flailing his arms to keep from plummeting to the canvas. It’s at this point that Too Magnificent goes for a running boot to the face, a crippling shot that would finally thwart Psycho’s plans.

What Too Magnificent wasn’t counting on is that Psycho has the braincells remaining to duck the inbound boot and step right behind his opponent. He once again ensnares Too Magnificent in the cobra clutch, looking to drop him head first into the canvas.

Comeau: Here comes the Psychotic Episode, a move that Too Magnificent has felt on a number of occasions.

Moore: I wonder what the Cartel Title thinks of this action. Maybe if I poke it with a pen it will finally answer.

Too Magnificent shows that he can think on his feet just as quickly as Psycho can, bending down and slipping under his rival’s arm. He steps backwards, freeing his head from the cobra clutch and stepping behind his adversary just long enough to lift him up into position for the inverted DVD.

As he’s hoisted up onto Too Mag’s shoulders though, Psycho transfers his weight, rolling over the back of his opponent’s head and landing on his feet right in front of him. Too Magnificent is shocked as he steps forward for a knock out shot only to be caught around the throat with both of his opponent’s palms.

Psycho hoists Too Magnificent into the air and connects with a sit-out double handed choke bomb onto the laid out steel chair. Too Mag bridges his injured spine from the canvas while Psycho lays on the canvas, incapable of going for the pinfall.

Comeau: The choke bomb from Psycho taking Too Magnificent out, but it doesn’t look like he has the energy to go for the pin.

Susie: When I need energy I just swallow a whole bag of sugar. Granted I force myself to regurgitate it like five seconds later, but it does give me an energy boost.

Too Mag’s lower back feels as if it’s been cracked with a 2x4, leaving him ripe for the pickings. However, Psycho is still struggling from the numerous blows he’s suffered throughout this match, starting with a trash can shot to the cranium, followed by strikes from a Singapore Cane, and topped off with that suplex onto the apron.

Comeau: Psycho really needs to go for the pin and finally end what has been an absolute war of a match.

Psycho finally musters the strength to sit up after taking a quick glance at the blood still staining his elbow. It compels him to begin crawling towards Too Magnificent, looking to finish him off and send yet another message to Evermore. That plan flies out the window when Sean Johnson rears his head at ringside.

Mark: What is up with this? “The Griffin” Sean Johnson is now rushing to the ring. Don’t tell me he’s actually going to make good on the promise he made to his agent backstage.

Moore: Where’s Johnson? All I see is Poopers headed to the ring. At least I think that’s Poopers.

The reason for Susie’s confusion, on top of decades of eating paint chips, can be contributed to the fact that a Psycho mask is hiding Pooper’s face. The very steel mask that Psycho use to cover his scorched features with now hides the hideousness of Pooper’s mangy face.

Mark: What the…..?

Johnson hops to the apron and begins wagging Poopers around through the air, trying to get Psycho’s attention. Even though Psycho is seconds away from crawling into the cover on Too Magnificent and going for the pin, his focus is derailed at the sight of Johnson’s mockery.

Psycho is officially livid once he spots HIS mask adorning Poopers, making a complete farce out of everything that the mask represents.

Susie: Poopers is all dressed up for Halloween. Quick, give him some Jolly Ranchers, none of that cheap ass Candy Corn.

Mark: If I had Jolly Ranchers, Poopers would be the last thing I’d give them to. Johnson is out here trying to make a JOKE at Psycho’s expense by having Poopers wear that symbolic mask.

Although some of the fans may be laughing Psycho does not crack so much as a smile. The laughter from the fans drives Psycho almost homicidal, prompting him to rush at Johnson who quickly drops from the apron. He reaches through the ropes, trying to get his hands around the throat of either Sean or his accomplice Poopers.

Psycho: Your so going to regret this.

The threat only causes Sean’s smile to widen as he now puts Poopers on top of his head, allowing the weird subspecies to stand on his hair wearing the mask.

The distraction seems to be paying off, because Too Magnificent is making good use of this time, struggling to his feet with the chair in hand. Psycho finally turns back towards his opponent, his spine facing Johnson and the masked Poopers.

Now it’s Sean who grows upset, taking Poopers off of his head and jumping to the apron, refusing to be ignored. As soon as Psycho’s focus returns to the match, he turns and receives a gruesome chair shot straight to the skull. The blow is so stiff it sends Psycho toppling to the canvas, the crowd thinking there was a cannonball fired in the Manhattan Center due to the echo of the shot.

Mark: A heinous chair shot right to Psycho’s skull! His head may be split wide open like a watermelon.

Psycho lays on his back, eyes fluttering as Too Magnificent throws down the chair and drops into the lateral press. He falls right across Psycho’s chest, hooking the leg, almost positive that victory is within his grasp. He listens for the sweet sound of a hand slapping the canvas only to be deprived of it for the Scab Ref is in the process of barking orders at Johnson.

He demands that Sean drop off of the apron and go backstage only for Sean to refuse. He shouts right back at the referee, telling him it took forever to buy an authentic Psycho mask off e-bay, and his effort isn’t going to be wasted.

This time it’s Too Magnificent who goes after Johnson, rising to his feet and barreling towards him. Sean drops off of the apron to the outside mats with Too Magnificent following him.

Comeau: Too Magnificent had the victory in hand if it weren’t for Johnson distracting the referee. If he wants to win this match he’ll have to get rid of the Griffin.

Susie: Awww, can he at least leave Poopers at ringside? Can you imagine me, Poopers and the Cartel Title on commentary?

Mark: Yes, in my nightmares.

Johnson back peddles up the ramp as Too Magnificent takes threatening steps towards him. Sean is trying to explain himself, indicating that Poopers put him up to this, that it’s the culprit, and that they were only trying to help. Too Magnificent is buying it, knowing that Sean is as untrustworthy as a necrophiliac in a graveyard.

Once Johnson reaches the stage and Too Magnificent nears the midpoint of the ramp, he stops pursuing the number one contender for the Cartel Title. His attention shifts back towards the ring, turning just in time to spot Psycho strolling up the ramp behind him.

The two immediately come to blows with one another, duking it out with Sean and Poopers watching.

Comeau: This brawl being taken to the ramp and Psycho perhaps unintentionally sparing Johnson.

Punch after punch connects to both men’s jaws before Psycho finally takes Too Mag’s wrist and pulls him forward into a violent lariat to the throat. Too Magnificent crumbles to the stage and Psycho’s eyes transfer to the still masked Poopers. Once Sean sees the rage in the Sadistic One’s eyes, he removes the mask from Poopers’ head and hides it behind his back.

Susie: Okay, the mask disappeared now, so Sean’s off the hook right?

Mark: Just because it’s behind his back, it doesn’t change the fact that Sean has still got it.

Psycho doesn’t like being treated like an idiot and doesn’t take kindly to the laughter once again resonating from the crowd. He digs his nails into his palms until blood is produced, clinching his fists as he starts up the ramp, hot on the heels of a fleeing Johnson.

Psycho leaves a recovering Too Magnificent behind as he rips the curtains in two and pursues Johnson to the backstage area.

Comeau: Psycho chasing Sean Johnson and Poopers. I don’t know what that means for this No Disqualification match-up. Is it over?

Moore: Maybe we’ll get another one of those extremely long Hardcore Matches like the one between my precious Porny and Christian.

Mark: Good God I hope not.

With Psycho tracking the Griffin a confused Too Magnificent is left in the lurch. He rises to a knee on the ramp, holding his throat and looking flabbergasted. Official Harris is now standing beside him, Too Magnificent bouncing his questions off of the dense scab.

The referee is just as confused as Too Magnificent who now demands to have his arm raised in victory. He points to his wrist repeatedly, indicating that since Psycho is gone he wins via forfeit. The official doesn’t agree and very vocally denies Too Magnificent’s request. He has to fight to get his hand free as Too Magnificent pulls it to his wrist in an attempt to force him to raise his arm and acknowledge that he’s the victor.

Comeau: A baffling conclusion to this brawl between Psycho and Too Magnificent. Johnson ruining what was an intense brawl.

Moore: But at least we got to see Poopers again, and that’s all that matters.

As Too Mag continues bickering with the official, the fate of Johnson, Psycho and Poopers remains a mystery.

CRUSH

A slender set of feminine knuckles raise towards a door, just on the brink of knocking only to hesitate. The hand belongs to one Miho Miyazaki, and the door belongs to Porno Lad’s private dressing room. A dressing room he confiscated from the now defunct Conspiracy. Miho lowers her hand to her side and scratches at the back of her neck, obviously very nervous.

Mark: Newcomer Miho Miyazaki waiting outside of Porno Lad’s dressing room. I wonder what this is all about.

Susie: I don’t know, but I don’t like it.

Comeau: Jealous are we?

Moore: No, I just don’t like things I don’t know.

Mark: Then you must hate EVERYTHING. I sincerely hope that Jackson Adams isn’t watching this.

Miyazaki looks out of character, almost gushing at the thought of gaining entrance to Porno Lad’s dressing room and having the privilege to flirt with the N.H.B Champion.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Voice: ARE YOU BORED YET?!

The videotron flickers to life, showing a baby sleeping

Voice: BORED TO TEARS?!

The video changes to a crying little girl.

Voice: I KNOW, THIS IS RIDICULOUS!

The video changes to Lil D, IWC's resident midget, hopping off his most recent mounting victim; Dave Fields

Voice: EVEN THE MOUNTING MIDGET NEEDS SOMETHING TO DO!

The video changes to a woman's scream

Voice: WHAT'S THAT?!

The video changes to a scene from a superman movie

Man in video: It's a bird! It's a plane!

Voice: NO, SILLY, IT'S SIMON CAGERO! HERE TO SAVE THE DAY!

The video changes to a closeup of Simon's face. It looks somewhat serious, almost to the point of looking constipated. The camera backs off a little.

Simon: Sorry, ladies and gentlemen, I like to pretend I'm Too Magnificent every so often. You know, constipated, with no talent whatsoever.

He chuckles, as he turns his back to the camera.

Simon: Riggs, you're someone I see that resembles me, in the past. Someone who took to isolation, someone who took to blaming others... Yes, Riggs... You remind me of myself, you remind me of someone I used to be.

He turns back around, almost jumping, with his eyes wide.

Simon: NEWSFLASH! It's been done! It's all been done, boy; since before the day you were born; before you were even a twinkle in your old man's eye. A Broken Silence, a Broken Mind? Sounds to me like you're suffering from Broken Penis syndrome...

He laughs

Simon: But anyway, I won't keep you from your little snorefest you have going there. I'm just letting you know that you're going to be the next on my list to get.. WASTED!

He shakes his head

Simon: Because I don't like the smell of your shit.

The videotron fades.

PRETTY PLEASE

The camera returns to find Miho Miyazaki in the same position we last saw her in. She continues lingering just outside the door to Porno Lad’s dressing room, rubbing her hands together anxiously. It appears that she’s mustering the courage to knock. Finally, after convincing herself that she can’t walk away without at least expressing herself to the prankster, Miho raises her knuckles and begins to knock.

Hurse: Outta the way goth geisha!

Her fist was mere inches from the door before Hurse came barreling in from off camera.

Hurse: I got some serious business needs be tended to. Now run along.

Before Miho can offer a response Hurse gently nudges her aside and without knocking barges into Porno Lad’s dressing room. The camera follows him inside as the impetuous Hurse begins speaking.

Hurse: Porno Lad, we really need to have a heart to hea…..

Hurse stops cold in mid-sentence when he spots Porno Lad standing in front of him completely in the nude. His jaw literally drops upon looking south of the border. Thankfully the camera remains north of Porno Lad’s equator to protect the fragile youth who may be watching.

Porno Lad: Yeah, I know, it’s impressive.

Hurse is still speechless.

Porno Lad: I really need to buy a lock for my door. Now would you stop gawking and get on with why you barged in here?

Hurse: Wha?

The sight of Porno Lad’s endowments have caused him to completely loose his train of thought.

Hurse: Oh, OH yeah, yeah, sorry, was just thinking about the end of Boogie Nights for some reason.

Porno Lad: Which was by far the single greatest film ever made. Unless you count anything with Ron Jeremy. Now go on, get it over with…..

He speaks in the midst of wrapping his lower half in a towel.

Porno Lad: Let me hear your whiney little voice beg for help.

Hurse: I have you know that my voice…..

Porno Lad: Yeah, yeah, yeah, movie reference, funny one liner, just skip to the point already.

Hurse: FINE! I gave you two weeks to think about my proposition, so what say you?

The N.H.B Champion barely listens while smearing some body grease on his frame, making this one of the most homoerotic scenes ever filmed in IWC history.

Hurse: Well, WELL!?!

Porno Lad: Well what?

Hurse: Are you going to help me rescue Buehler in exchange for my servitude?

Porno Lad: Hmmm…..NAAAAH.

Hurse is flabbergasted, both by the brevity of Porno Lad’s response and the glow from his oiled up features.

Hurse: How can you just….you didn’t even think about…..WHY!?!

Porno Lad: Because I hate your guts.

Once again the former World Champion finds himself speechless over Porno Lad’s blunt response.

Hurse: Yeah, but come on, you still have feelings for Kate…..

Porno Lad: HA! Don’t even try playing that card on me.

Hurse: Well I’m offering you my services, MY services in exchange for your help.

Porno Lad: Yeah, so you can help me just like you “HELPED” Robin last week? Why are you asking me for help in the first place? There’s literally an entire lockeroom full of people who hate Robin Brooks just as much as I do.

It pains him to lay it all out on the table but that’s exactly what Hurse does.

Hurse: Everyone else refused to help me, and besides, I know how powerful and skilled you are. I mean, you knocked me out at Paranoia VI, granted I did have an inner ear infection and a horrid head cold, but you still beat me. So based on that, I know you’re the one man who can stand up to the Brat Pack.

Porno Lad: Stroking my ego aye? It isn’t working.

Hurse: DAMN.

He stomps his foot and goes back to the drawing board.

Hurse: Okay, new strategy. Really think about it for a second Porno Lad….

Porno Lad: Nope.

Hurse: Come ooooon.

Porno Lad: Don’t have to.

Hurse: If Robin Brooks, Katie Steward, and the more irrelevant members of the Brat Pack torture Katelyn there’s gonna be nothing left of her for you to get your hands on. In a non-sexual manner I mean.

Clearly Porno Lad hadn’t thought about it that way. He briefly stops in the middle of greasing himself up and bats his eyes, realizing that Hurse’s argument actually makes some sense.

Hurse: So…..are you gonna help?

Porno Lad: Hmmmm, I don’t know, maybe, maybe not. Maybe I’ll help out, or maybe I’ll get much more amusement out of seeing you and Buehler beat the crud out of each other tonight.

Hurse: That’s not an answer.

Porno Lad: Wasn’t meant to be one.

The shoulders of a disheartened Hurse sink to his hips as he turns and vacates the dressing room. Porno Lad watches him walk off before grabbing another container of grease, eyeing it closely. He now removes the towel and looks down at his lower extremities.

Porno Lad: I’m gonna need a lot more grease.

PAT EVANS VS. SIMON CAGERO

The excitement builds in the arena, the crowd exhilarated by the sounds of “Outsider” hitting the PA system. It doesn’t take long for their joy to turn to anger, voices transformed the moment Pat Evans comes into view. The man who has found himself in the center of a messy situation involving the World Title, progresses down the ramp, trying to put Christian’s offer to the back of his mind.

Mark: And we return to the ring with Pat Evans headed towards it. Normally I would be grateful that we don’t have to deal with anymore gratuitous nudity….

Moore: Speak for yourself.

Comeau:….BUT watching Evans come out here isn’t any better than what we were seeing backstage. I’ll admit, Evans taking that opportunity Savior has offered him would be a good move, but that wouldn’t make his decision any less repulsive. Although the longer we wait for his answer, the more I’m thinking that Pat will not accept Christian’s offer to face Kingdom at Upping the Ante for the title.

Evans slips through the ropes, starts across the ring and scales to the top rope. He outstretches his arms in a classic cross pose that elicits only the more heinous of reactions from the audience. No matter what gestures he employs the crowd is ready to pounce on him like he were an alter-boy at a NAMBLA convention.

Mark: I think Evans is smart enough to realize that Christian’s gifts always come at a price, and everyone knows, ESPECIALLY Pat, that Savior is about as trustworthy as a piece of cheese on a rat trap.

Susie: That damn cheese tricks me every time. Just look at the bruises on my fingers.

Pat drops to the mats and begins to limber up for competition, getting his mind entirely focused on Cagero and NOTHING else. Suddenly, the lights dim down, and are replaced with a dark red. The words "Wasted" Appear on the video tron as it flickers to life, as "Pardon Me" by Staind starts to play.

Comeau: Prepare yourselves now for the reemergence of one of the all time greats of wrestling lure….

Susie: The Shockmaster?

Mark: Good God, NO! I’m talking about the returning Simon Cagero. Do I have to keep reading these cue cards by the way……

Simon: *YAWWWWWNNN*

A sleepy Cagero steps through the curtains, his stretching arm leading to a microphone. His other hand rubs at his eye, wiping away any crud that may have accumulated there while sleeping. The reaction from the crowd is so deafening that drowns Cagero’s words in chants, cheers and marriage proposals. Simon pays no attention to the room keys shaken above the heads of the portly female fans, although he does give an acknowledging wink in the direction of their flabby biceps.

Cagero: Thank God, Jesus, Buddha, myself, whoever, for the creation of the alarm clock. Without it I would have slept through this entire match.

Laughter is had at the expensive of Evans. Pat pays no attention to the chuckles, eyes focused on the throat of his braggadocios opposition.

Simon: Although sleeping would probably be far more productive than actually wrestling you, Franken-Evans. Aren’t you missing a few bolts in your neck? I mean you’ve already mastered the stiff, rigid walk, and the Neanderthal-esque speech, plus I’m almost positive that you’ve got an abnormal brain in your head, so you might as well as find the bolts and complete the whole look.

Simon doesn’t hesitate to run his mouth as he moves up the steps to the apron. Even though he’s separated by inches from his increasingly unstable adversary, Simon hesitates not to continue verbally baiting him.

Cagero: Like I was saying though, before I noticed that they removed the stitches sewing your scalp back on your head, I would have had far more fun if I hadn’t woke up to fight. I was having a GLORIOUS dream involving lots of naked women, mud and for some reason Morgan Freeman, don’t ask me why. But now I’m forced to wake from my fantasy and thrust into this nightmare?

Evans cracks his knuckles, wondering if Simon realizes just how deep a hole he’s digging himself into.

Simon: A nightmare on Boredom Street! A nightmare involving ME, wasting MY talents to make YOU look entertaining. Does the IWC think I’m some kind of miracle worker, or at the very least a cheap Vegas magician? I may be a miracle worker, but there’s only so many ways you can stack shit and make it presentable. So with that said, let’s get this SHIT out of the way, so I can worry about my presentation later this evening. A presentation that will be totally unlike you and your ambiguity over that title shot, Pat, meaning it’ll be entertaining, and people will actually care about it.

The microphone is pitched through the cables and Cagero removes his shirt to even more swoons from the females.

Comeau: Simon Cagero is never at a lack for words.

Moore: He sure does have a lot of them. I just repeat the same ones over and over again so I can keep being lazy.

Mark: I don’t think your telling us anything we don’t already know.

Thankfully for Evans, the time for words is over, and he FINALLY gets a chance to shut Simon up permanently. With fists clinched and the bell chiming in the background, both he and Cagero inch towards one another. Simon looks fully prepared for his first match in an IWC ring in over a year. Despite his lengthy absence from the squared circle he appears to be in the best shape of his life.

Comeau: Here we go, Evans and Cagero, a very interesting match-up. Perhaps after this is all said and done we’ll clear up the confusion over Pat’s title shot, and find out a little more about this “presentation” that Cagero has got scheduled for later tonight.

Susie: Maybe he’s bringing back my Tea Party segment, I did make a fresh batch of mud cookies. They melt in your hands AND your mouth.

As both men move in to commence the match with your basic collar elbow tie up “FALLING IN THE BLACK” sends the crowd into an almost volcanic eruption. Their words are like liquid hot magma tearing the skin from Christian’s body, metaphorically of course, although the fans would love for that analogy to be literal. Christian is pleased to disappoint them by not only continuing to exist, but making his way down the ramp with the Tag Title belts thrust over one shoulder and a contract gripped in his palm.

Mark: As if things needed to get even more interesting, Christian Savior popping up at ringside, holding what I can only assume is a contract for that World Title match two Sundays from now.

Susie: How do you know? Maybe he’s brought me a new coloring book, must you always think of yourself?

Pat doesn’t like Christian being at ringside, no matter what his intentions may be. Apparently Savior is intent on maneuvering around the ring, starting to the commentator’s table and sliding into the vacant seat, a chair he’s grown quite use to.

Savior: Oh, how nice, my ass groove is still in my seat.

Savior situates himself in the chair and throws his tag title belts on the surface of the announce table, carelessly knocking over Mark’s glass of water.

Mark: Yeah, I don’t think anyone joins us at commentary as much as you do, Christian.

Savior: Somebody’s got to do commentary around here. Speaking of those not doing their jobs, have you missed me, Susie?

Moore: Your hair, yes.

Christian: Thanks, I recently had it conditioned. And that’s exactly what people have become around here, conditioned. Conditioned to see me as the root of all evil….

Mark: There’s an understatement.

Savior: Conditioned to take their jobs for granted, and conditioned to hold talent back. But this contract right here is gonna buck all that conditioning, it’s gonna buck the trends, it’s gonna change the course of wrestling history.

He taps the World Title contract with the tip of his finger, not even paying attention to the spine chilling glare from the man who’s signature Savior wants to adorn it. Pat turns around to face Simon and Cagero hesitates no longer, he charges in, tying up with Pat then shoving him backwards into the turnbuckle.

The Scab Referee hops into position, starting a five count to disqualify Cagero who breaks at four. Simon steps back, smiling the toothiest of smiles.

Simon: Come on Patty, get angry. The more mad you are the more entertaining this’ll be.

A slap connects with Pat’s cheek and it’s just the provocation he needed to become livid.

Cagero: I said get ANGRY boy!

The forced southern accent is silenced by a forearm to the jaw. This very shot knocks the words out of Cagero’s mouth and his feet out from under his body. He crashes to the canvas, rolling to his knees in shock while Evans steps in and begins to drill him repeatedly to the temple with right hands.

Savior: See, this is exactly why Evans DESERVES a fair World Title shot, and why he’s never been given one. He’s got so much untapped potential, and that animalistic rage that terrifies the old guard around here.

Mark: Blah, blah, blah, how many times are we going to hear this same old routine from you, Christian? The legends around here are NOT holding people back, hell, Johnny Kingdom has defended his title TWICE since Paranoia, that’s two more times than you defended it.

Christian: Your skating on thin ice, Mark.

Moore: I lost several sisters that way.

Evans takes Simon around the neck, placing him in a side headlock and dragging him towards the ropes. Cagero’s eyes are placed to the top cable as Evans drags him across the ropes, trying to blind him. Finally they end up in the turnbuckle Pat just fought out of, putting Cagero against the pads this time.

A knife edge chop of such a stiff variety it almost cracks Simon’s sternum is unleashed by his ever so violent opponent. Pat looks a little more aggressive than usual, evident by the second chop that lands on Simon’s chest and sends him flying backwards into the turnbuckle.

He actually flips over the top rope and lands on his feet across the apron, his chest almost purple from the last two chops. Evans steps back to get a running start, bolting at Cagero and throwing a right hand.

Simon catches hold of the inbound fist though, wrapping his hands about his wrist then charging at the turnbuckle. He steps up it to the top rope and then lunges off, coming down onto Evans’ shoulders then swinging him around into a hurricarana.

Mark: Cagero showing that the old guard can still pull out some new tricks, and why they deserve their spots around here.

Christian: Nobody ever denied that the legends in the IWC have talent, the problem is that they abuse it. But like I said, this contract I have here represents change, change that will ultimately SAVE this company. And hey, just think about it, my last name is Savior.

Comeau: I think you need to stop worrying about getting Evans to sign that contract, so you can lure him into whatever trap your setting…..

Savior: So paranoid.

Mark: And start concentrating on your own match at Upping the Ante, that Four Corner Survival against Cagero, Porno Lad and Riggs, where one half of your Tag Team Titles will be on the line.

Christian: Of course I’m thinking about that Mark, why do you think I’m out here? I’m not only scouting Evans, but I’m watching Cagero as well. And oh yeah, Susie, how’s Ethan doing?

A tense situation arises as Mark scoots between Susie and Savior, making sure to keep her out the Rising Phoenix’s reach. Inside of the ring Cagero is back on his feet, doing a little razzle dazzle to the crowd’s delight. He then turns around and charges at the rising Evans. Pat just gets to his feet when Simon jumps into the air, catches him by the ears and delivers a headbunt to his skull.

The blow proves devastating, for Simon at least, who underestimated just how hard Pat’s head really is. Cagero staggers around, looking as if he snorted a whole gram of cocaine. Pat on the other hand is relatively unphased by the headbunt, giving him just the time he needs to seize control.

He takes hold of Cagero, scoops him into the air and slams him down hard to the canvas. Cagero reaches for his kidneys, rolling to his knees and trying to stand up. Pat takes by the wrist, drags him all the way to his feet and scoops him up once again.

Cagero has no defense, still shaken up that headbunt as he’s thrown to the canvas with another scoop slam. Evans steps to his side, stretches his arms out in one direction then swinging them in the other. The momentum spins Pat’s body into a modified senton splash, his back crashing into Simon’s sternum.

Savior: Here’s another demonstration of what makes Pat a surefire World Champion, innovation.

Mark: That was an unusual variation on a pendulum elbow, almost a pendulum back splash.

Christian: I’ll tell you someone else who is innovative, that guy Porno Lad. I understand you and he are close, Susie. Maybe you can give him a message for me on the eve of our four corner survival.

Moore: Sure, just tie it to my ankle and I’ll fly it right over.

Savior: Good, tell him that the Road to El Dorado begins with me taking his N.H.B Title on Sunday, and ending our Hardcore Match.

The technician methodically approaches this match now, getting his anger out after those chops and scoop slams. Now he’s clear headed, at least until he sees Christian tampering with contract at ringside. He hesitates for only a moment, just the moment Simon needs.

Evans bends down to grab hold of his hair when Cagero rolls back, stretching out his legs and wrapping them around his adversary’s waist. Pat grabs him around the waist with his arms, hoisting Cagero up into a wheelbarrow suplex.

Simon tries to counter with a bulldog, emphasis on the word TRIES. Evans seemingly has it scouted, reaching up and grabbing his opponent’s knee, yanking down on it. Simon is brought down from Pat’s shoulder and slammed face and chest first into the canvas but Evans doesn’t let go of the leg he employed to nail this maneuver.

He drops down behind Cagero and wraps his arms around the ankle, or at the very least tries to in order to get the ankle lock applied.

Mark: Evans already going for one of his more effective maneuvers after a tremendous counter.

Savior: That it was. I’m sure if Pat signs this contract you’ll be seeing a lot more ankle lock variations in his match against Kingdom, before Johnny finally taps to the new generation. Hey Susie, what’s it like hanging out with Porno Lad?

Susie: Fun, te-he.

Christian: Yeah, but I bet he doesn’t let you play with his title belts….

Moore: I had a tea party with them.

Savior: Fabulous, but maybe after the show you’d like to come hang out with Rose and I, you can play with my tag team title belt as much as you want.

Susie: For REAL?

The excitement at ringside does not compare to the excitement in the ring, because Evans is seconds from latching on the ankle lock. He drops to his back and goes to scissors the leg of his opponent to get him in an inescapable variation of his career shortening move.

What he didn’t count on however, was Simon standing up. He slowly begins to rise to his feet, his back still turned towards Evans and his foot ending up pressed to Pat’s chest. Evans’ legs are still wrapped around Cagero’s thigh as he struggles to trap the ankle.

Simon slowly makes a full rotation though, twisting his body around as a result twisting Evans over onto the side of his face and stomach. The legs that were tied around Simon’s knee to scissor it are now trapped in a sharpshooter.

Mark: Now THAT’S a counter.

Savior: No, THAT’S blind luck, it’s all guys like Cagero operate on. If you notice, all of Simon’s moves are defensive, that’s how Pat keeps his opponents, on the defense, no offense.

Moore: You were saying something about playing with your title belt?

Christian: SURE. Rose and I will treat you a whole lot better than that grumpy, Porno Lad.

Evans pushes himself up onto his elbows, squinting his eyes as his face puckers like he were sucking on sour lemons. Cagero rears back into the sharpshooter, putting a lot of pressure on the lower back. It doesn’t take long for Evans to crawl towards the ropes though, reaching out and grabbing the bottom one to a loud reaction, mostly negative.

Scab Ref Conrad is shouting at Simon to break the sharpshooter, but he’s not going to do it until he’s satisfied that he’s inflicted enough damage. At four he releases Evans, stepping forward and for no inexplicable reason dropping to the top of his head only to nip to his feet.

He throws his arms out to his side, trying to get the crowd roused, which they have no objection to doing. Cagero spins only a few seconds pandering to the audience, being a true showman, before he turns back towards a recovering Evans.

Pat leans side first against the cables, utilizing them as a crutch to stand. Simon comes barreling at him with foot extended, looking for a boot to the temple. Pat steps back though, the boot missing and leg flying through the cables, causing Simon to crotch himself over the middle rope.

After gathering himself, Pat steps up beside Simon and delivers a swift kick to the second rope, launching it upward into Simon’s groan. Cagero flips over sideways, crashing back first against the apron and remaining there while he convalesces.

Savior: Gosh Pat is impressive, always knows where he is in that ring at all times.

Susie: That’s good, I barely know where I am half the time, I didn’t even know I was seated behind an announce table.

Christian: Hanging out with Porno Lad will have that effect on anyone’s brain.

Cagero guides himself to his feet with the aid of the ropes before Evans grabs him by the bangs. Simon’s head is dragged through the ropes, leaving it prone between the cables. Evans steps back and delivers a hard kick right to the jaw of his opponent, the strike almost knocking Cagero to the outside of the ring.

That wasn’t Evans’ intention, far from it. He pulls Simon through the ropes by his hair until only his ankles are propped over the middle cable. Pat hooks both of Cagero’s arms and throws him into the air from this precarious position, twisting him around into a unique variation of the back breaker.

Simon bounces off of the knee, crashes to the canvas and rolls around in a great deal of pain. The time for his antics is at an end, proving detrimental against the all game Evans.

Pat steps in, takes Simon around the neck and thigh, hoisting him back to his feet only to flip his body over forward so that he comes crashing down back first across his knee.

The crowd is stunned by yet ANOTHER back breaker variation from Evans.

Mark: Pat using more modified back breakers than Roderick Strong.

Savior: Don’t dare compare Evans to anyone. The man is in a whole nother league.

Comeau: Don’t shit in my palm and call it gold, Christian….

Christian: I wouldn’t dream of it.

Mark: I find it a little suspicious that you go from calling Evans nothing more than the hired muscle to raving about his skills like an obsessed fan.

Savior: Everyone makes mistakes, Mark, all I’m trying to do is make up for mine.

Evans slips in behind the seated Cagero, wraps his legs around his waist and places him in a body scissors. The submission really puts pressure on the ribs and the lower back, two focal points of the technical tyrant.

Pat falls to his side, pulling Cagero over onto his shoulder and continuing to exert pressure.

Comeau: After that lethal series of back breakers from Evans, he’s now going into that body vice which could prove quite effective.

Evans really squeezes his thighs around Simon’s ribs, almost cutting off the air to his lungs, threatening to pop them like balloons filled with too much helium. Sweat trickles down Cagero’s face, rolling over his twisted, determined features. The last thing Simon needs is to return with a loss, so he struggles valiantly to escape the hold.

Evans slaps him to the back of the head several times, adding insult to injury, trying to demoralize his opponent. Cagero’s feeling aren’t so easily hurt, his heart pumping faster than ever. Evans’ words only motivated him to turn to his seat and begin delivering elbows to the point of Pat’s knee.

The elbows connect one after another and slowly begin to Charlie Horse Pat’s leg. Finally Evans breaks his own hold and grabs Cagero by the hair, delivering a headbunt to the back of his skull. Simon drops to the canvas, kicking his legs and grasping at the bump forming under his hair.

Mark: Evans using every inch of his body to punish Cagero.

Savior: Which makes him so lethal….

Mark: Will you please just stop!

Christian: No, I don’t take orders from you, Mark. And you want to know why? Because your administration as General Manager ended after your own roster overthrew you. Why should anyone listen to you, Mark, your just as biased as you claim me to be, your just as biased as Orlando Cruze.

Evans takes Simon by his unique hairdo, forces him to his feet and into a front chancery. The technician hoists Cagero into the air, positioning him in a vertical suplex predicament before twisting around into a falcon arrow. Simon’s spine meets the canvas with the velocity of a bullet being fired from a gun.

Pat now rolls over into the lateral press, hooking a leg for the pinfall.

1

2

The shoulder of his opponent launches from the canvas, Simon showing that he’s still as resilient as ever.

Mark: Falcon arrow not enough.

Savior: No, but he forced Simon to kick out, which takes some of Cagero’s energy away. See, there’s a reason behind everyone of Pat’s actions, no matter how miniscule. He’s not just firing bullets at the broadside of a barn.

Moore: I was born in a barn, in a manger actually.

Comeau: Susie, that was Jesus.

Pat continues being the aggressor to Cagero, taking him by the hair, forcing him up to his feet and whipping him into the nearby turnbuckle. He comes charging in after Simon who hits the corner then quickly turns and delivers a reverse elbow to the inbound face of his opponent.

The crowd pops as Evans staggers back, eyes fluttering in an attempt to remain conscious. That’s when Simon steps up the turnbuckle and flips over backwards, going for a moonsault. Evans leaps back, causing Simon to change up his move by landing on his feet directly in front of him.

This puts Cagero in perfect position for Evans, who wraps his arms around Cagero’s waist then drops back into a German suplex. Somehow Simon is able to flip over with the grace of a cat or at the very least a Thundercat. He lands on his feet and backs into the ropes, bouncing off then charging straight at his adversary.

Pat stands up and throws a lariat at Simon only to have his arm caught and his body swung around into what appears to be a swinging neckbreaker. Cagero spins around out of his own move though, trapping Evans’ head in a front chancery then leaping into the air, wrapping his legs around Pat’s waist.

Comeau: A combination front chancery, body scissors applied by Cagero.

Before Simon can get some smug satisfaction out of this hold, Evans reaches down, pries the legs of Cagero away from his ribs and hooks the creases of his knees. Cagero is thrown up into the air and onto Pat’s shoulders.

The crowd is amazed as Evans tries to counter into a running liger bomb. Cagero hits a counter of his own though, dropping over Pat’s head, slipping down his back and grabbing him around the waist.

A stunned Evans is pulled down into a sunset flip, dropping to his back with Cagero standing up behind his legs. Instead of going for the pin, Simon lunges into the air, attempting a double stomp on his prone opponent. Pat rolls out of the way in the nick of time, Cagero landing on his feet in front of him.

Pat stands up, hooks Simon’s arm from behind and prepares for the Spinal Tap. The crowd squeals as Cagero is hoisted into the air for the half nelson back breaker only to have Simon twist his body and connect with an arm drag counter.

Mark: Another amazing counter as this action gets fast paced.

Christian: Now you’ll see Cagero get himself winded by pulling off flashy moves and pandering to these irrelevant sycophants, then Pat will swoop in and take advantage.

Evans rolls across the canvas to his feet, a bit frazzled by that unexpected counter. A tired Simon stands up in front of him, or at least tries to before Evans steps in, wraps his arms around his waist and hoists him into a side suplex. Cagero is slammed violently back first into the canvas with Pat floating over into the lateral press.

1

2

Cagero launches a shoulder from the ring, avoiding defeat by a mere fraction of a second.

Evans is as flabbergasted as one can imagine. He gets to his feet, leads Simon to a standing base as well, hooks his arm from behind and throws him up into the air for the finishing Spinal Tap, determined to hit it on this occasion. That’s before Cagero spins around in mid-air, catches Evans around the neck and counters the half nelson back breaker into the twisting downward spiral.

Mark: Ohhh, Spinal Tap countered into the Break the Silence!

Savior: WHAT!?!

Comeau: See, told you you talked too low, Mark.

The crowd is stunned, even more so than Pat perhaps, who lays on his back looking mentally lost. Cagero knows exactly where he is, spread across Pat’s sternum going for the pin.

1

2

3!

And with that the fans rejoice, flushed with adrenaline. Not only do they see Cagero’s return to the ring, but they are treated with a victory as well. Simon rises to his knees, muscles aching as he rises his fist into the air, eliciting an even louder reaction somehow.

Mark: You know, maybe your presence at the commentator’s table is a curse to your friends.

Savior: Like I said earlier, everyone makes mistakes, but Pat will be able to rebound from his nicely when he puts his name on this contract.

Comeau: And where do you think your going?

Christian: How many times do I have to say it, Mark? I don’t answer to you. Susie, tell Ethan I’ll be seeing him real soon.

THE DOTTED LINE

The headset is removed from Christian’s head and before it even hits the table he’s already entering the ring. Christian kneels on the canvas, having a tense yet ever so brief stare-down with the celebrating Cagero. Simon watches him wearily from the corner of his eye but doesn’t let him ruin his celebration.

Simon slips through the ropes and drops to the outside mats, realizing he’ll have plenty of time to pander to the crowd later during his “special” ceremony. He leaves the drama behind, Christian stepping towards a recovering Evans with the contract in one hand and a microphone now gripped in the other.

Mark: Thankfully we’re going to get one issue resolved here, we may not know what Cagero has planned for later tonight, but Savior’s gonna get an answer to his offer.

The Rising Phoenix raises the mic to his smiling lips, trying to save face after watching Evans fall to the elusive and abusive Cagero.

Christian: Alright Evans, moment of truth.

Pat still hears ringing in his ears from his head first plunge into the canvas, so it makes it difficult for him to concentrate on Savior’s words.

Savior: Are you ready to sign your name to this contract? Are you ready to step into the history books? Are you ready to be World Heavyweight Champion?

Evans gives him a dead stare, eyes devoid of emotion and thought.

Christian: Now, now, I know you didn’t fair very well this evening, but losses only make you a better competitor and hungrier for victory. Which would mean you have to be famished by now.

Pat wonders if Savior is even aware of how big an ass he’s being.

Savior: People are going to forget this fluke, so don’t even worry, Pat. What everyone is going to be talking about in the next few weeks is how Pat Evans went toe to toe with the biggest disgrace in all IWC history and saved the World Title. And how Christian Savior, with the help of his bestest bud, altered the landscape of the entire wrestling industry by pushing aside the politics and doing what’s unheard of, the right thing.

The aching Evans stares at the contract once again being thrust in his direction.

Mark: Savior is so full of it.

Moore: Full of what? CANDY!?! That would be wicked awesome.

Savior: So how about you sign on the dotted line, Pat? How about we show the world how business really should be conducted? If you put your sig on this contract you’ll be fulfilling the Conspiracy motto, you’ll be living the revolution that Douglas preached about, and you so ardently believed in. And don’t see this as a handout Evans, see it as a just deserved reward for all your hard work, a reward that has only been deprived to you because the legends are terrified that you’ll overshadow them should you compete in the main event. I on the other hand, being a legend in my own right, welcome challenges instead of hiding from them, and it’ll be no greater honor than to get your signature on this contract, watch you win the World Title then go on and face a deserving, challenging Champion at the Overbooked Extravaganza II. Are you ready Pat, are you READY!?!

The contract proves too alluring for Evans to pass up. He reaches out, grabs the clipboard and his eyes briefly scan it. His gaze turns towards Savior who wears a cornball smile.

Evans: I’ll sign it on MY time.

With that Evans rolls across the canvas under the ropes to the outside mats. Some of the fans boo, others cheer at the sight of Pat’s reluctance to sign the number one contenders contract. Christian, however jumbled his emotions may be, is at least pleased that Evans took the contract, which was half the battle.

Mark: I spoke too soon apparently, because nothing has been resolved. Evans took the contract but he’s yet to sign it, and I don’t think he will.

Susie: He should give it to me so I can draw unicorns on it.

Pat proceeds up the ramp with Savior watching him from the ring, a grin sneaking across his face.

LOST & FOUND

Jackson Adams: No, no, no, I don’t want your God damned excuses, I want answers, now, NOW!

Jackson does not hesitate to dig his finger into the greasy stagehand’s shirt, although he does make sure to avoid the ketchup and mustard stains. The horrified youth has no answer that would placate Adams, so he doesn’t even try to provide one.

Jackson: Hop on your little headset, talk to you’re tween buddies, tell them to put down World of Warcraft and their Twilight books and FIND my tag team partner. Does that compute, speak-a-englais?

At this point he employs sign language to convey his message.

Adams: Stop standing there amazed by my beauty and give me answers you pimply rhinoceros.

He shrugs, still having no idea how to calm the savage Adams.

Jackson: Clear all the crap out of your ears and listen to me Helen Keller. I have a match in like thirty seconds, I NEED a partner….

His finger is removed from the stained shirt and points towards the entry way that they are a mere few inches removed from.

Adams: If you don’t find Miho, I’ll force your Kathy Bates ass, and your cottage cheese thighs to that ring and make you do all the work Chubby McGoo….

A hand taps Jackson’s shoulder from behind, making him spin around with fists instinctively clinched.

Miho: I here.

She throws her arms out to her sides with palms raised towards the heavens. A pleasant grin extends across her face but Jackson finds it anything but pleasant.

Jackson: Do I have to put you on a leash? Where the hell have you been?

Miho is left in much the same state as the stagehand, unsure how to even respond to his brash, angry tone.

Adams: Nuh, nuh, nuh, I don’t even want to hear it. You had me worried SICK.

The smile begins to return to Miho’s face, pleased by the knowledge that Jackson actually cares.

Jackson: I thought I was going to have to go out there and compete in a handicap match! Can you imagine me, ME, in a handicap match?

The grin fades once Miho realizes that Jackson was only worried about himself.

Adams: I swear, if the stress of your disappearance gives me crows feet your paying for the plastic surgery….

Miho: J…. ‘lax.

Her palm is placed on Jackson’s sternum, feeling his rapid heartbeat.

Miho: I had business….

Adams: Business, what business!?! I’m the one who brought you in here, that got you a job in the IWC, any business you have needs to be ran past me first.

Miho: You know, just cause you got me job, don’t mean you own me.

Jackson does an over dramatized double take.

Jackson: Excccuuuse me?

Miyazaki: I’m not your property. Now come, I’m here now, let’s win my debut match.

Miho turns away from Adams still looking excited despite this little tiff. Jackson on the other hand doesn’t look anywhere near as excited. In fact, he’s repulsed, upper lip twisted and teeth grating. He slowly turns his attention away from his partner and towards the stagehand.

Adams: Your FAT!

Jackson storms towards the ring, leaving the stagehand to feel self conscious about himself, jiggling his love handles.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Voice: DO YOU LIKE... SOFT AND CUDDLY THINGS?!

A picture of Bob consumes the screen.

Voice: NOT GREASY THINGS, CUDDLY THINGS!

The picture changes to a teddy bear.

Voice: SIMON CAGERO DOES!

The picture changes to Simon holding his daughter

Voice: DO YOU LIKE... CHILDREN?

The picture turns into a video, of Simon putting his daughter down to sleep for the night

Voice: SIMON CAGERO DOES!

The picture changes into Riggs and Pat Evans in Wedding Dresses

Voice: THEY DO NOT

The picture changes into a video of Too Mag throwing feces at the two.

Voice: THIS IS WHAT THEY LIKE!

The video changes into a video of Simon screaming into a microphone

Simon: SIIIIIIIMOOOOOOONNNNN CAAAAAAAAGGGGEEEEEERRRRROOOOO!

Voice: FOR A BETTER TOMORROW, TODAY!

The videotron fades to black

JACKSON ADAMS & MIHO MIYAZAKI
VS.
RIGGS & PORNO LAD

"Who's to know if your soul will fade at all,
The one you sold to fool the world.
You lost your self esteem along the way.
Yeah."

The lights dim as black lights illuminate the arena. Finally Jackson Adams and Miho Miyazaki emerge through the curtains and onto the stage. The two look out over the crowd, Jackson thoroughly repulsed by the reception, but his long time friend Miho raising a fist towards the audience.

"Good God, You're coming up with reasons.
Good God, You're dragging it out.
Good God, it's the changing of the seasons.
I feel so raped.
SO FOLLOW ME DOWN.

And just fake it, if you're out of direction.
Fake it, if you don't belong here.
Fake it, if you feel like infection .
Woah, You're such a fuckin' hypocrite"

Jackson makes his way up to the apron and slips through the ropes. He sits on the middle one, parting the cables for Miyazaki. She’s on the verge of entering the ring before Adams steps away, no longer holding them open for her. Miyazaki glares at JA in confusion before finally sighing and entering the ring.

Mark: The first time teaming of Miho Miyazaki and Jackson Adams doesn’t look as if it’s going that smoothly. This pear already off to a rocky start after Adams couldn’t track her down backstage. Of course, we both know where she was.

Susie: Staring in an episode of Elimi-Date?

Comeau: We literally just saw her hanging out outside of Porno Lad’s dressing room. How could you possibly forget that?

Moore: I started playing with my hair.

Mark: Unbelievable. Anyway it seems that Miho has some type of infatuation with Porno Lad, who is just one of her opponents tonight.

The mood in the building is altered by “The Sacrament.” The moment the lyrics hit the crowd pumps their fists up high, celebrating the arrival of the Painted Warrior. Much like last week he descends from the rafters, supported by a bungi cable. The fans are amazed by the spectacle as Riggs lowers to the squared circle, landing in the very center of it. Jackson and Miho have cleared out of it, concerned for the own well being given the highly unstable, volatile nature of the Painted Warrior. He unfastens the clamp holding him to the bungi cord then turns to beam the most menacing of stares in the direction of his opponents.

Mark: I think Jackson is still feeling the effects of that very physical Singapore cane match he had with this man last week.

Susie: So am I.

Comeau: You weren’t even in the match.

Moore: Yeah, but I was still forced to watch it.

Mark: Since his return to the IWC, Riggs has been on a path of destruction, yet has still remained true to his oath to protect the sanctity of our company. Maybe that’s what led him to assault Porno Lad last week with the cane, on top of retribution for being locked in his dressing room by the prankster.

Jackson rubs at the scar in his forehead, left by the cane swung into his skull last week by the man he’s making eye contact with. Riggs would relish yet another opportunity to punish Adams, an opportunity he’ll be given in moments.

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 and the N.H.B Championship. The X-Class gold does not adorn his frame for the obvious reasons.

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

Riggs watches his partner strut his way to the ring with dejected eyes. The Original Prankster slips through the ropes and stares right back at the man he’s forced to associate with this evening. Obviously there is a great deal of tension between the two after what occurred on the last Riot! between them.

Moore: Now things are finally gettin’ fun!

Mark: Porno Lad coming to the ring amidst swoons from the females and props from his boys. He’s gotta spend a little less time pandering to his peeps and focus on not only his opponents, but his partner.

Susie: Awww, why can’t he just keep struttin’?

Miho and Jackson climb to the apron, the two deciding who will start out for their team. The confrontation commences with the little minx known as Miho about to do battle with Riggs, the very man she helped get caned last week. The Painted Warrior and the gothic youth follow one another closely with their eyes. That’s when they step forward to lock up and wage war, however, Miho stops, turns, and blows a kiss to Porno Lad.

The Prankster smiles a toothy smile but has no idea how to really react to this gesture. Jackson does have a reaction, and it’s an angry one.

Jackson: What are you doing, fight him!

Riggs doesn’t wait any longer for Miho to try and seduce the N.H.B Champion. He finally steps in, grabs her by the very hand she was blowing a kiss out of and swings around it. Miho squeals as she’s placed in the arm ringer by the Painted Warrior.

Although somewhat inexperienced in in ring competition, she drops into a forward roll to try and free herself. However, Riggs tucks into a forward roll as well and ends up kneeling at her side, still twisting her arm into the submission.

Mark: Riggs keeping that arm ringer applied, Miho isn’t going to escape so easily.

Susie: Why is Miho making so many moves towards MY man? Doesn’t she know she needs to submit an application if she wants to be in one of our three ways?

With her wrist tightly clutched in the palms of her painted opponent, Miho drops into a backwards roll and ends up on her feet. She then swings around under her own arm, reversing the wrist lock onto Riggs. She tucks his arm around behind his back and applies the hammerlock.

After successfully getting the submission established she looks into Porno Lad’s direction.

Miho: Impressed boy?

Porno Lad shrugs and Jackson cuts forth with even more obscenities.

Jackson: Why are you talking to him? Concentrate, CONCENTRATE!

The slight distraction allows Riggs just the opportunity to escape the hold. He bends down and slips back, getting behind Miyazaki then steps forward to apply the side headlock submission. That’s when Miho uses all her strength, freakish strength in fact, to shove Riggs off of the headlock and send him charging straight at Porno Lad.

He comes within seconds of connecting skull to skull with his tag team partner only to stop just short.

Mark: Riggs and Porno Lad almost having a meeting of the minds.

Susie: That would be one fun meeting. It would probably be a casual dress meeting.

The two men eye each other very closely, ready to exchange blows if that’s what it comes to. It seems that the fans don’t have to wait much longer to see either of these go at it, as Porno Lad lifts his fist. Instead of swinging it though, he opens his palm and slaps Riggs on the shoulder, tagging himself into the match.

Porno Lad: Alright, MY TURN. You can wait in the corner and pierce yourself or something.

Riggs scoffs as he slips through the ropes and takes his place in the corner, allowing Porno Lad to take his place. The moment that PL steps towards Miyazaki she bolts across the ring and slaps Adams’ chest. Jackson looks at her as if she has a massive head wound.

Jackson: I didn’t want a tag. What are you….

Before he can complain any further, Porno rushes to the ropes that JA is holding, yanks on them and sends Adams flipping over the cables. As he flips over, Porno Lad catches Jackson around the head and delivers almost a modified neckbreaker.

Comeau: A beautiful neckbreaker bringing Jackson Adams into the ring!

Adams sits up, eyes glassy and jaw hanging agape. Porno Lad takes him by the bangs, rolling him to his knees and delivering repeated forearms to the man who has ambushed him so many times over the past few weeks. Vengeance is had with each blow that connects to the frazzled face of the true X-Class Champion.

He pulls Adams by the jaw to his feet then backs him into the cables. He shoots him off across the ring only to have Adams turn around, trying to reverse the whip. He successfully shoots Porno Lad off into the opposite cables and then catches him coming back in.

He wedges both hands to PL’s stomach and throws him up into the air, trying to catch him on top of his shoulders to deliver a sit-out powerbomb perhaps. In mid-air Porno Lad delivers a picture perfect dropkick that sends Adams crashing to the canvas then rolling out of the ring.

Mark: Porno Lad catching Adams at EVERY turn, Jackson just can’t get out of the gates.

Susie: My parents never let me past the front gate either, actually I don’t think they ever let me out of the cage really. But it’s okay, because they lined the floor of the cage with newspapers, mostly the funnies.

Comeau: Child abuse never ceases to amuse me.

Adams is all shaken up and stunned on the outside of the ring, finding himself even more furious when he looks up and spots Miho clapping for Porno Lad. He stomps his foot in anger and is just about to do something about it when he’s spun around from behind by Riggs.

The Painted Warrior just had to get himself some more of his opposition, delivering repeated uppercuts to his face and knife edge chops across his sternum. Adams flails his arms to remain upright before he’s taken by the back of the head, charged at the ring and then rolled back inside.

Adams scrambles to his feet when Porno Lad dives into the air, nailing a twisting elbow to his chest. Jackson goes down to the canvas and pops back up to his seat, looking as if he’s suffering cardiac arrest after that blow. In an attempt to give his body some rest he rolls towards Miho and extends his hand, fingers twiddling in her direction.

Miyazaki acts as if she doesn’t notice the outstretched palm, turning her back towards Adams and trying to get the fans to cheer him on.

Mark: Miho now REFUSING to tag herself in and face Porno Lad.

Susie: What she doesn’t know is that’s part of the application process.

Jackson is so livid that he almost goes menstrual, but before he can so much as scream at his partner, Porno Lad is there to shut him up. The Prankster rushes in and delivers a straight kick to the side of Adams’ face, knocking him into the cables where he lands throat first across the middle one.

He is propped against the cable by his throat while Porno Lad charges up behind him, lunges into the air and lands hip first against Jackson’s upper back. His neck is forced into the rope, choking him and leaving the X-Class Champ gasping for the air.

The normally braggadocios Adams is doing anything but running his mouth, instead he’s trying to run from the ring. He gets to his elbows and knees, trying to crawl out of harm’s way only to have Porno Lad charge up behind him. He steps onto Jackson’s lower back and launches himself up into the air.

His elbow is extended out to his side and dropped directly into Jackson’s kidneys.

Comeau: No matter what Adams does he just can’t get away from Porno Lad, he is absolutely dominating.

His kidneys may be throbbing with pain but Jackson someone musters the strength to force himself to his elbows and knees, crawling in desperation for Miho. Porno Lad puts a stop to him this time, grabbing Jackson by the ankle and dragging him back towards the center of the ring.

That’s when Adams flops to his back, wedges his feet to Porno Lad’s sternum and shoves him off across the ring. Porno Lad crashes into his corner, arms falling over the top rope to support himself. Jackson begins to stand up, his back still aching and unaware that Porno Lad is pulling himself up into the turnbuckle. Just before Porno Lad takes flight, Riggs reaches out and makes the blind tag.

Porno Lad doesn’t even realize the tag was made as he soars through the air for a double axehandle. That’s when Jackson drops down out of the way, causing Porno Lad to instead land on his feet, tuck into a roll and end up hopping to the diagonal corner.

He lands on the second rope and then flies off, twisting around in mid-air for a big crossbody on the rising Adams. Jackson is stunned by his opponent’s speed but shows that he’s just as quick by dropping to a knee and countering the crossbody into a gut buster.

Comeau: It may have taken Jackson a while to recuperate from Porno Lad’s onslaught but he’s finally getting on board.

Susie: I hope he’s getting on board the Love Ship, doesn’t look like this relationship with Miho is going very well. Maybe he should go on Elimi-Date instead.

Mark: The less you mention terribly derivative reality shows the better.

The rib breaker has Porno Lad still doubled over Jackson’s knee but only for a fleeting moment. Adams stands up, places Porno Lad in a front chancery and snaps back into a big vertical suplex. Jackson floats over into the lateral press, wedging his forearm into PL’s face in the process.

The scab referee informs Jackson that Porno Lad isn’t the legal man, sending him into fits. Jackson looks as if he’s going into an epileptic seizure as he rises to his feet and threatens to strike the official. He balls up his fist before it’s grabbed from behind by Riggs and he’s spun around.

Riggs is still standing behind the ropes on the apron but that doesn’t keep him from launching a forearm into JA’s jaw.

The stiff blow disorientates Adams, sending him staggering back towards the center of the ring. That’s when Riggs springs to the top rope and comes flies off. Adams ducks down though and rushes under him, once again avoiding a high flying move from his opponent.

Riggs lands on his feet behind him and rushes into the far cables, bouncing off of them at the same time that Jackson is ricocheting from the opposite ropes. The moment that Riggs is propelled by the cables he lunges into the air, and nails a devastating lariat to Adams’ throat.

The Painted Warrior comes down to his knees beside Adams with the fans popping loudly.

Comeau: That blind tag eventually paying off. There was only so long that Adams could avoid his ever so quick opponents.

Susie: It’s like the Road Runner teaming with Speedy Gonzalez, a regular international alliance.

Mark: Yes, only Riggs nor Porno Lad are animated.

Moore: Or so you think.

With his throat as red as a Republican’s neck, Jackson rolls desperately across the ring, outstretching his hand for the tag. Miho finally does tag herself in this time, now that it’s Riggs who is the legal man. She jumps over the top rope and comes charging at Riggs’ backside.

However, the Painted Warrior has eyes in the back of his head. He turns, catches the inbound Miho under the arm and hip tosses her across the ring. As she flips over, Riggs cartwheels across the canvas at her side, landing on his feet the very same moment she comes down to her seat. He then drops into a sliding lariat that nails her across the throat.

Comeau: Miho not fairing any better against Riggs.

Riggs nips up to his feet after delivering the lariat, landing just in time to spot an attempted cheap shot by Jackson. Adams goes for a lariat to the distracted Riggs’ throat only for him to duck down out of the way and hook his opponent’s forearm in the process.

He steps behind Jackson then tugs on the crease of the elbow, spinning JA around then scooping him up into the air. The crowd erupts as Riggs goes for the Hopskotch only for Adams to frantically slip off of his shoulder, landing behind his adversary.

That’s when a recovered Miho charges straight at Riggs’ front-side. He only has a fraction of a second to think before hunching over and catching Miyazaki’s inner thighs. A screaming Miho is thrown over Riggs’ head and sent flying straight at Adams, landing on top of her partner’s shoulders in position for a hurricarana.

The deranged Riggs spins around to face his handiwork only to find that Adams is still standing and holding Miho on top of his broad shoulders. He wedges his hands to the back of Miho’s legs and pushes up on them, sending her flipping over backwards into a moonsault. She crashes right on top of Riggs’ shoulder, knocking both competitors down to the canvas.

Comeau: What a TWISTED series of counters leading up to that Miho moonsault.

Moore: For the next twenty minutes can I just keep saying MIHO? It kinda rolls off of the tongue. Miho, Miho, Miho…

Miyazaki remains sprawled across Riggs’ chest and shoulder, reaching out to pull up on one of his legs.

1

2

Riggs kicks out, launching a shoulder from the canvas and causing Miho to sit up in shock.

Comeau: And Miho almost steals one as a result of that moonsault.

Susie: Just because she’s Asian doesn’t mean she’s a thief, Mark, don’t exploit ethnic stereotypes. Now stop it or I’ll have her karate chop you over one of those Hibachi grills.

Porno Lad has finally climbed back up into his team’s corner, gripping repeatedly at his ankle in the process. Perhaps he tweaked it slightly after coming off of the top rope and missing that double axehandle. The explanation is unknown at this time but it’s obvious that Porno Lad is in a great deal of pain.

As Riggs rises to his knees he’s met with a series of slaps to the cheek from Miyakazi. Miho is dishing out some serious punishment and now goes as far as to charge backwards into the cables. She bounces off and comes back in at her opponent to have Riggs stand up and double over, going for the back drop.

Miho turns her spine to Riggs and falls back to back with the Painted Warrior. He stands up and hits almost an inverted back drop, instead sending Miho flipping over and landing straight on her feet. The second she lands, Miho drops into a leg sweep, knocking Riggs’ feet right out from under him.

Comeau: Now Miho is showing that she’s just as fast as the boys.

Moore: Oh, girls can go faster than men. Just ask the guy who took my virginity.

Mark: Your uncle?

After hitting the leg sweep Miyazaki tucks into a forward roll and dives at Adams in their corner, slapping his outstretched hand. Jackson quickly climbs to the top rope and before Riggs can get up he launches himself of the turnbuckle into a huge splash that connects.

Riggs’ legs launch up into the air from the landing and Adams is quick to hook them.

1

2

Riggs kicks out from the X-Class Champion’s breathtaking dive.

Jackson promptly grabs his painted opponent by the bangs, forces him up to his knees and hooks both of his arms. With both arms trapped Riggs is incapable of defending himself from the onslaught of knees that are delivered to his forehead and face.

Even with these brutal blows connecting right on the button, Riggs demonstrates his amazing threshold for pain by beginning to stand up.

Jackson almost cannot believe it as Riggs reaches his feet then attempts to back drop his stunned opposition. Jackson desperately keeps hold of the arms though, even as he’s flipped over and comes crashing down onto his back. As a result Riggs is pulled down by his arms, falling down spine first into Jackson’s chest.

With Riggs on top of Adams, the referee slides into position, making the count.

1

Jackson sits up, STILL holding onto the arms and forcing Riggs to rolls over backwards. Riggs lands on his knees with his crafty opponent standing up in front of him, hooking his arms. Before the painted competitor realizes it he’s being thrown up into the air with a double underhook suplex only to be twisted around and dropped into a back breaker across Jackson’s raised knee.

Mark: A very effective back breaker from Adams, twisting Riggs body around his knee.

Riggs drops to his chest and stomach, reaching for his kidneys which Adams promptly buries a knee into. He grabs Riggs around the chin, pulling back as well, a submission tightly clamped on. The laid out Riggs tries to squirm across his stomach towards the ropes in order to break the hold but they’re too far away.

Porno Lad on the other hand is within range, his partner now standing upright on the apron asking for a tag. He grimaces from the pain in his ankle, finding it very difficult to put pressure on it. He realizes however, that his pain is secondary to the triumphant feeling of victory.

So he keeps his palm stretched out, fingers twiddling in anticipation of a tag. Riggs is encouraged by the fingers, luring him like a fish to shinny bait. He digs his palms into the canvas, dragging himself with all remaining strength towards his partner. Jackson looks rather flabbergasted that he can’t keep Riggs grounded, even with a knee to the spine and wrenching back on his jaw.

Comeau: A tag needs to be made, Riggs taking A LOT of punishment as a result of this modified chin lock.

Moore: Good, Porno Lad should wrestle the entire match on his own, the more Porny the better.

The crowd is amazed by Riggs’ strength and resiliency, inching closer and closer to his partner even with Adams brutally twisting his body. Jackson wrenches back even further on the chin, digs his knee even deeper into the kidneys and hops it will be enough to keep Riggs grounded.

It isn’t. Riggs reaches out for the hand of his partner, finding himself mere inches removed from Porno Lad’s twitching fingers.

Mark: Porno Lad about to come in here and pick up the pac….

Just before Riggs’ palm can connect with Porno Lad’s, the prankster stretches out too far for his leg to handle, his ankle giving out. A shrill scream emits from Porno Lad who drops to his seat and grabs at his ankle in horrendous pain.

Comeau: It seems that Porno Lad has indeed ripped something in his ankle.

Moore: Oh nos, I hope it wasn’t his crotch.

Mark: His crotch isn’t in his ankle, Susie.

Susie: Obviously you’ve never seen him naked.

Comeau: No, apparently only you, Katelyn, and Hurse have.

Riggs glares through the ropes with fiery eyes at Porno Lad who is still gripping at his possibly wounded ankle. He drops to the mats and begins to hobble around, trying to walk it off.

Comeau: Well Porno Lad can still put weight on his ankle apparently, which is a good sign.

Even though Riggs desperately needs a tag, Porno Lad continues to hobble at ringside, now putting his leg over a barrier and trying to stretch it.

Mark: Apparently he’s trying to get the blood flowing to that wound.

Moore: Maybe I should go in and help give him a massage.

Comeau: I don’t think our censors would allow that to air.

The N.H.B Champion puts his foot down to the mats, claps his hands and looks ready to go. Unfortunately the first step he takes towards the ring is his last one. He squeals and begins to hobble, jumping on one foot with both hands wrapped about his ankle.

Riggs’ eyes are now bulging from their sockets like an animated hound who just spotted quite the dish. His teeth grate to the point that they could shoot sparks, realizing that Porno Lad’s injury is being greatly over-exaggerated.

Mark: Is it just me, or does Porno Lad look like he’s making his injury a bit too dramatic?

Susie: It’s just you, drama and Porno Lad don’t go together, unless we’re watching Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman.

Porno Lad hops on one foot towards the ring and leans on the apron, shouting to his partner who is still struggling to keep from submitting to the hold.

Porno Lad: Don’t you worry Riggs, I can still g….

He tries to step up to the apron but falls back to the mats and hobbles once again.

Porno Lad: Well scratch that. I think I broke a toe nail, better get it looked at partna’.

From under the ring an old steel walker is removed, Porno Lad placing all his weight on it as he hobbles up the ramp. A stagehand quickly rushes around the ring with the N.H.B Title belt, handing it off to the prankster who tosses it over his shoulder.

He then goes back to dramatizing the extent of his injury, howling as he moves up the ramp, aided by his walker.

Comeau: Porno Lad believing that he’s too injured to compete, because he broke….a…..toe…..nail?

Moore: That sounds so painful. I hope they put his nail on ice for the transplant team.

The Nude Hot Babes Champion proceeds through the curtains to the backstage area, leaving a flabbergasted Riggs behind, forced to compete entirely on his own. With all the testosterone flowing into his weary muscles, Riggs begins to rise to his feet, forcing Adams to remove his knee from the kidneys.

Although Riggs has been the proverbial loose cannon as of late, it doesn’t lessen his support amongst the crowd. Everyone is up, cheering him on, urging him to reach his feet. Riggs feeds off the raw emotion generated from his loyal supporters, inching closer and closer to his feet.

Finally he’s upright with Jackson removing his knee then bridging the Painted Warrior over backwards into a dragon sleeper this time.

Comeau: Jackson seamlessly transitioning from rear chin-lock to dragon sleeper. He’s keeping Riggs entirely at his mercy in what has now turned into a handicap match.

Sweat begins to melt Riggs’ face paint away, just like the hold takes away all of his energy. He begins to waver, his knees giving out much to the delight of Miho, anticipating his fall to the canvas and his eventual submission. Jackson intensity shines through his eyes and his twisted face, although he may not be leaving with his X-Class Title, at the very least he can salvage a victory out of this night.

Susie: Mark, you’ll be pleased to know that Porno Lad just text messaged me, and from what I understand the doctors are telling him NOT to come back out here.

Mark: You mean he actually wanted to come back out here and compete?

Moore: No, he was coming out to give me some new stickers, but alas, he’s far too injured to even do that.

Comeau: Don’t give me that garbage.

Susie: Sorry, I didn’t realize you knew I was stuffing your pockets with my used Kleenex.

The crowd tries to beam their positive energy into Riggs, attempting to give him that inner strength to fight through the pain. Their reaction seems to feel Riggs with another burst of adrenaline. He reaches up, wraps his hands around the back of Jackson’s head and bends it forward.

Adams doesn’t go all the way over yet his head is lowered enough for Riggs to shoot a knee up straight into his forehead. Another knee strike connects, greatly disorientating Adams, who begins to lose his grip as a result. This is just the opportunity Riggs needed, spinning around and free from the hold.

Mark: Riggs out of the….OH!

Just as Riggs spins around in an attempt to wedge his shoulder to Jackson’s ribs, he receives a swift knee strike directly to the face. The blow sends Riggs staggering backwards and falling into the corner where his partner is supposed to be waiting to make the tag. Instead Riggs continues to suffer entirely on his own.

Jackson steps forward and slaps Miho’s hand, bringing her back into this contest. Now Adams turns his attention back towards Riggs, charging straight at his prone, exhausted opponent.

He gets ahead of himself though, charging right into the raised boots of his painted opponent. However, Jackson stops himself just before his jaw can connect with the soles of his opposition’s shoes. He grabs the raised ankles of Riggs and swings them to the side.

The momentum that Jackson has caused, sends Riggs’ legs flying through the ropes and leaves him seated across the second one. He drops back immediately, launching his shins over the top rope directly into Jackson’s face.

Comeau: Ohh, nice catapult shin strike from Riggs. I think we can all feel the momentum shifting.

Susie: I know I feel something, but it’s probably because my phone is on vibrate, I’m sitting on it, and my precious Porny is texting me again.

Jackson staggers in reverse just as Riggs springs to the top rope and comes flying off. Once again Adams drops to his knees covering his head with his palms as Riggs goes flying over top of him. He lands directly behind Jackson then reaches back, grabbing him by the armpits and pulling him down into a backslide.

The official doesn’t even bother to make the count, because Jackson is not the legal man and the legal participant is now interjecting herself. She grabs Jackson by the ankle, pulling him down out of the backslide to his knees. Miyazaki in the meanwhile jumps over the still crouching Riggs, and pulls him over into a cradle.

1

2

Riggs kicks out, dropping over to his feet with Miho sitting up in front of him. The second she rises to her feet, Riggs lunges forward into the shinning wizard.

Comeau: Shinning Wizard now connects!! I don’t know where Riggs is getting this energy from but he’s hanging in there against two opponents.

Riggs rolls over Miho’s body, hooking both of her legs for the pinfall.

1

2

Riggs is pulled off of his opponent by Adams, JA illegally interfering. He yanks Riggs up to his feet and delivers a quick kick to the ribs before taking him by the wrist and pulling him forward into position for the Spectacular Ending.

A wail is heard from the audience as Jackson begins to hoist him up into the air. Somehow Riggs shifts around in mid-air though, slipping over Jackson’s shoulder and landing on his feet behind his rival.

Jackson turns around and is immediately scooped into the air onto the shoulder of his opposition.

Comeau: Hopskotch coming from Riggs! Who despite the overwhelming odds finds himself on the verge of victory.

The fans are ready to pop like bubble wrap before Miho steps up in front of Riggs, digs her nails into his eyes and viciously rakes them. As a result Riggs looses his grip on Jackson, who slides free, lands on his feet behind the Painted Warrior then drops down and delivers a straight low blow to the groin.

The Scab Ref who was busy arguing with Miho over the blatant strike to the eyes doesn’t see the crippling shot to the groin that leaves Riggs doubled over, shouting in pain. Miyazaki does see it however, prompting her to shove the official aside as Jackson screams orders.

Jackson: Enough of this FARCE. You know what to do!

As Jackson pins the arms of his wounded opponent behind his back, all Miho does is stand there shrugging her shoulders, having no idea what her partner is alluding to. This only makes Jackson all the more frustrated.

Jackson: Go under the ring and GRAB IT!

Miho is still baffled.

Adams: NOW!

Although Miyazaki doesn't take kindly to being treated like a servant she follows orders, believing that Jackson, being the veteran that he is, knows what he's doing. She drops down, rolls under the ropes, lifts the tarp hanging from the apron and begins to reach under it.

Mark: Why is Miho coming out here?

Moore: Don't worry, Mark. I think what Jackson said was he wanted her to grab something under the RING, not under the table. You can loosen your chastity belt.

Comeau: Umm, yeah.

Miho's face goes white, erm, at least whiter than it was before when she removes a Singapore cane.

Mark: Now it becomes obvious.

Susie: Really?

Comeau: Well to me at least. Jackson is looking for not a win, but payback after taking those shots with the cane last week.

Riggs continues to struggle as Miho rolls into the ring and kneels on the canvas, motioning to the cane in a truly befuddled state.

Jackson: Get 'em, beat 'em like a pinata!

Miyazaki is thoroughly vexed by this demand, yet grips the cane in her hands and follows through.

Mark: Miyazaki wants a win tonight, she obviously didn't have any idea that this was Jackson's plan.

Moore: Don't do it Miho. People who hang out with Porno Lad only act with courtesy and respect, plus they watch a shit-load of movies staring Jenna Jameson, or the slow motion opening to Baywatch.

With a heavy heart Miho swings the cane at Riggs only to have him duck the inbound shot. As a result the cane slaps Adams right in the forehead, toppling him to the canvas. The crowd erupts but Miho stands as silent as a portrait. Her face is a picture of horror, her eyes staring down at Adams who just took a shot from a cane for the second week in a row.

Mark: She missed, she missed and took out Adams, hahaha.

Riggs, who is still pining over his wounded man muscle, clears out of the ring amidst the sound of the bell chiming. The official is livid, having no other recourse but tto throw this match out, ruling it a no contest after the flagrant violation of the rules, and Porno Lad's unexpected departure. The Painted Warrior kneels outside of the ring, doubled over his crotch, but smiling at the near unconscious Adams.

Mark: This match being thrown out as a result of that accidental shot from the cane.

Susie: Was it accidental? I only ask because I don't know the technical definition of the word, "accidental."

After his plan went awry, Jackson is left scrambling across the canvas, using the ropes to aid himself to his knees. He holds his palm to his forehead, which may be lacerated as a result of the blow with the cane.

Mark: Jackson is not going to like the fact that this match was just thrown out, all thanks to his "friend" Miho Miyazaki.

An exhausted, FURIOUS Adams leans on the ropes, doubled over and gripping at his battered skull. Miho crawls across the ring to his side, reaching up to pat him on the back, trying to both apologize and console him. Once her hand touches his skin, Adams pulls away, lower lip trembling in anger.

Miyazaki looks a little confused by his reaction.

Comeau: Adams not allowing himself to be touched by Miyazaki, I think he’s had enough of her fawning over Porno Lad, especially after that shot to the head.

Moore: Hitting Adams should be a national past time.

The winded Miyazaki tries to get some answers from her long time friend, but Jackson can’t even tolerate looking at her. He steps into a corner, leans on it and takes several deep breathes.

Miyazaki: J, what wrong?

Adams: What’s wrong….hahahaha….WHAT’S WRONG!?!

The furious Adams, so mad he’s about to blow a fuse, grabs Miho by her wrist, gripping it tightly.

Jackson: You hit me with a fucking cane you goth whore! And I brought you in to seduce and distract Porno Lad! You weren’t supposed to develop feelings for him.

Miho realizes that she’s been caught, but quickly tries to play it off.

Miho: No, I no attracted to…

Adams: Don’t give me that bullshit, Miho! I saw you make goo-goo eyes at Porno Lad all through this match. He STOLE my X-Class Title, and yet your crushing on him?

Miyazaki: I….I….can’t help it.

Jackson: Then bringing you in was a waste of my time. WHOA….come to think of it, I bet you two are playing me aren’t you, huh? I bet you got together last week and are now in cahoots to keep that X-Class Title away from me. That’s why you wouldn’t fight him tonight….

Miho: That’s crazy.

In a fit of raw anger Jackson wedges his hands to Miho’s chest and shoves her forcefully to the canvas across her seat. She smacks hard into the canvas, the back of her skull connecting with the ring. A furious Jackson stands over her, pointing to himself several times and shouting down at his now former partner.

Adams: Bitches like you are all the same. You’re just like Katelyn Buehler, playing men like Hurse and I for fools, for fools! Well I’m not going to be the butt of your jokes any longer. You run off to your precious Porno Lad, but he isn’t going to protect you from me.

The hostile Adams is at the point of spontaneous combustion. He is so heated that steam could rise from his flesh as he steps around a stunned Miho and slips through the ropes to the apron. Miyazaki watches him leave in disbelief, their friendship shattered by Jackson’s paranoia.

Comeau: I think the friendship between these two is over, and it’s all thanks to Porno Lad.

Moore: It’s not his fault he’s so irresistible. But this isn’t right, not one little bit. Miho didn’t deserve that.

Mark: Susie, Susie, where are you going? Put your headset back on.

Jackson continues storming up the ramp talking to himself like a lunatic. The theft of his X-Class Title has driven him completely over the edge of madness. Behind his back he’s unaware that Susie Moore is sliding into the ring and crawling towards Miho, showing her sympathy. Perhaps she feels a bond with Miho due to their common infatuation with the N.H.B Champion, Porno Lad.

SIX MINUTE ABS

Work it, work it I say!

An incredibly sweaty Katelyn Buehler adorned in a sports bra and stretch pants is doing toe touches till she wants to vomit. Even if she were to regurgitate Katie Steward would show her no sympathy, she’d continue acting the part of a drill sergeant, barking orders. She crouches beside the panting Buehler, wearing a whistle around her neck as if she were a gym teacher, only far less masculine. She blows into that very whistle, filling the dressing room with a loud ringing.

Katie: ALRIGHT, drop down and give me thirty five.

Katelyn: But….but….

Katie: But nothing, now drop!

Buehler falls to her stomach, beginning to do push ups despite her fatigue and the overwhelming pain her muscles are in.

Steward: Come on, you can do better than that. You want to be in top physical shape for your match tonight don’t you?

Buehler: It hurts…

Katie: WHAT!?!

Katelyn: I said it HURTS.

Steward: Oh sorry, that whistle caused me to go a little deaf.

She sticks a finger in her ear, trying to stop the ringing.

Katie: Now stop whining or you’ll get another thirty five for giving me lip.

Buehler barely even has the strength remaining to complete one push-up, her body far too exhausted from the rigorous exercise routine.

Steward: Don’t make me bust out the thigh-master again.

Robin: Katie….

Into the camera’s frame strolls the Submission Champion, Brooks’ shoulder weighed down by her title and her face consumed by a smile. She takes great satisfaction in watching Buehler be put through the motions, doing exercises Katie Steward hasn’t even attempted before.

Katie: Yes dear?

Robin: I appreciate the help, but…..

Steward: You think I’m being too lenient? I can call my personal trainer, or R. Lee Emery and have them shout at her for a few minutes.

Brooks: No, no….come here.

Obviously she wants to talk to Steward in private, where the exasperated Buehler can’t eavesdrop. Katie steps on Katelyn’s back, right between the shoulder blades then moves over her in Brooks’ direction.

Katie: And don’t you even think about running, Paris is right outside the door.

Katie and Robin move towards a corner of the dressing room, speaking in whispers.

Robin: I think you’ve done a splendid job.

Steward: Pfft…just splendid? You can come up with a better adjective than that.

Brooks: Okay, a STUPENDOUS job.

Katie: Better, but still needs work.

Robin: But we want Katelyn to have a tinie-tiny bit of energy left for her match, or at least enough left to make it down the ramp.

Steward: Your being too generous. You don’t want to risk her actually having the strength to beat Hurse tonight. Believe me, it doesn’t take very much energy to defeat him.

Brooks: Hmmm, true. Part of me doesn’t want Steven to win too easily though.

Katie: That’s being too risky. You asked me to make sure Katelyn is in no shape to defeat him, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.

Robin: Well couldn’t you have just hit her in the leg with a pipe or something?

Steward: What? I’m not going to Kerigan her, that be too easy.

Robin: Alright, alright, forget I said anything. As long as she can’t beat Steven, and he proves he doesn’t love her by pinning her tonight I’ll be fine.

Katie: Excellent. I haven’t even started her on the wall squats yet. By the time I’m through with her, she’ll feel like she’s given birth to a twenty pound Sumo baby.

The Goddess of Desire and IWC’s reigning Queen, turn to address their tortured subject.

Robin: Alright Buehler, round one is over, now it’s time for the hard stuff….

Her sentence trails off once she spots the empty floor where Buehler was doing exercises and the door swaying back and forth.

Brooks: Wha….where’d she go?

Brooks turns towards Steward who nonchalantly shrugs.

Robin: Weren’t you supposed to be watching her!?!

Katie: I thought my job was to stand here looking pretty and blowing on this whistle.

Brooks: That’s not the only thing that you blow.

Steward: I’ll pretend for a second that you meant that in a nice way.

Robin: Less talkie more grabby!

The two pursue Buehler through the door, stepping out into the hallway where Paris Dannon is busy arguing with Billy Mayne. Obviously Billy distracted Paris just long enough for Katelyn to slip out the door behind her.

Paris: No, I’m not going to tell you what fabric my shirt is made of. QUIT touching me.

Mayne: But your shirt is so shinny.

Dannon: STOP IT!

Paris pulls her shirt away from Billy, who has an obsession with feeling unusual fabrics.

Brooks: PARIS! You were supposed to be watching the door!

Before Dannon can explain that Billy was distracting her Robin’s frantic screaming cuts her off.

Brooks: She got away.

Paris: Who?

Robin: Celine Dion…..KATELYN! Who else would I be talking about. Now find her!

Paris: Okay, okay.

Dannon turns in circles, wondering which way Buehler went. Finally Katie, Robin and Paris all take off in different directions, leaving Billy behind. Mayne watches them flee with a grin forming on his face, his eyes darting towards the open dressing room door.

Billy: Ah yes, finally….

He slaps his palms together gleefully.

Mayne: A chance to get my hands on some under garments.

The backstage correspondent moves as stealthily as possible towards the door.

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

EYE WITNESS

Johnny: Sooo, who’s it gonna be Cruze?

The swaggering Kingdom paces back and forth through his dressing room, cell-phone raised to an ear.

Kingdom: You know what I’m talking about. Whether Axl is good to go or not, I STILL don’t want him as my partner. He’ll be bleeding all over the God damn place, and who knows, maybe he and Max gang banged the same hoe, or shared needless, Axl could one have of a million venereal diseases. If I have an open wound and his blood gets in it my penis may end up never working again.

The pacing stops long enough for Kingdom to hear Orlando’s argument.

Johnny: I don’t care how much potential you see in the guy. HE’S HURT! Therefore I demand to have a new partner of equal or greater value. It shouldn’t be too hard to find someone willing to team with the World Champ.

His pacing picks up where it left off.

Kingdom: Yeah, I know, I know, you prefer to have these conversations face to face, but the whole storming into your office and making demands thing has been done to death…..

Porno Lad: I totally agree. That’s why I just e-mail all my demands, when I’m not too busy looking up German foot fetish videos that is.

Porno Lad is still playing up the severe magnitude of his injury, all his weight leaning against a walker. Usually such devices would be saved for the elderly, just like the old woman with a fractured hip that he stole it from, but today it serves as a useful prop to fool anyone who may question the validity of the prankster’s injuries.

Johnny: I’ll have to let you go, Cruze. Looks like this is going to be one of those humorous, first time encounter segments where I exchange a lot of witty banter with some up and comer.

The phone is planted in Kingdom’s pants pocket, giving Porno Lad his undivided attention.

Porno Lad: Normally yes, that’s what you would expect, but I’m not here to do some long, drawn out introduction, my injury is far too nagging after all.

Kingdom: I’d have that nail looked at by a whole team of specialists.

Porno Lad: Oh, believe me, I will.

Johnny: Alright, let’s cut straight through the bullshit….

Porno Lad: Sounds fun.

Kingdom: Got your camera kid?

The Team Leader steps towards Porno Lad, extending his arm to slip it over the N.H.B Champion’s shoulders.

Johnny: If you want me to autograph the picture it’ll be an extra ten bucks. And I had better not see it on e-bay!

A defensive Porno Lad quickly clarifies his reason for being here.

Porno Lad: Although this would be a hell of a photo op, that’s not what I’m here for.

Johnny shrugs.

Porno Lad: And before we get into the whole one-upmanship, pissing contest routine and drown ourselves in urine, I have some information you might find valuable. I daresay even interesting.

Kingdom: I find that hard to believe. I haven’t been interested in anything in the IWC since they killed off Katherine Hiegl.

Porno Lad: Actually that was Gray’s Anatomy.

Johnny: The hell you say.

Porno Lad: But I understand if your brain is more swiss cheesed than Samuel Beckett’s, you’ve taken a lot of shots to the head lately. And that actually in a round about, humorous way, brings me to my point.

Kingdom: It’s about time.

The N.H.B Champion is unphased by Kingdom’s snooty comments, mostly because he doesn’t even bother to listen.

Porno Lad: You may not know this, but since Orlando Cruze passed the torch to me, I thought it was only right of me to assist in his ongoing investigation. You know, the one revolving around who bashed the last remaining braincells out of your head.

Johnny: No need for pointless exposition, get to the point.

Porno Lad: Alrighty then….my OWN investigation has uncovered some startling evidence.

Kingdom: Continue.

Porno Lad: I have an eye witness who can place RIGGS at the scene of the crime.

Now Johnny really does take notice. You can tell by the slight semblance of emotion on his otherwise stoic face. And his eyebrow arches, a clear cut indicator that someone is either trying to get a cheap pop or deep in thought.

Porno Lad: When you were first attacked, Riggs had NO business being in the Manhattan Center that night. He hadn’t signed a new contract, he wasn’t medically cleared to wrestle, nobody even knew he was going to be there, and from what I understand, nobody called him to show up. I mean, he was all but being forced out by management, there’s no way Dan Douglas would request this presence. He had no reason to be in the building that night, no motivation at all, other than cracking you over the head with a pipe that is. Why else would he be there? And more importantly, why else would he be hiding the fact that he was there, unless he’s actually got something to hide.

Kingdom: Hmmm, consider my intrigue officially lost.

After making his apathy clear as day, Kingdom turns to his gym bag, looking for a yo-yo, or at least something to alleviate his boredom.

Porno Lad: HEY! Here I am going out on a limb and ostracizing myself from the rest of the roster, being a stoolie, by telling on one of the boys, so the least you can do is listen.

Kingdom: Oh, I can do far, far less.

He turns back around to face the Prankster, all the while dropping a yo-yo from his finger and pulling it back up to his palm.

Johnny: Your evidence is awfully slim. Seems to me that you have a problem with Riggs, and your looking to bear false witness against him in the hopes that I’ll do your dirty work for you.

Porno Lad: Well yeah, OBVIOUSLY!

Once again Johnny is temporarily interested.

Porno Lad: With the exception of that whole “bearing false witness” part everything you said was true. Of course I want you to pummel Riggs and save me the effort of having to do so at Upping the Ante, why else would I be tattling on him to you. I could have just as easily taken this information to Orlando, but something tells me your reaction will be far more violent.

Johnny: Perhaps. The individual in question, whether it be Riggs or not, did almost cost me the World Championship.

Porno Lad: EXACTLY! Having said that I want you to know that I am telling the truth, and I actually have an eye witness.

Kingdom: Hmmm…

The holder of two belts, one earned, one stolen, addresses the door behind his back.

Porno Lad: Get your fat-ass in here!

It doesn’t take long for BFG to follow orders. The enormous bodyguard of the N.H.B Champion waddles into the light so that Kingdom can get a good look at his trustworthy eyes.

Johnny: THIS is your eye witness?

Porno Lad: I know it seems like a conflict of interest since BFG is my hired goon….

BFG: Awww Playa, I thought we closer than that.

Porno Lad:…but if it’s proven that he’s lying, I’ll kiss Aurora Rose full on the lips for twenty seconds.

Kingdom is astonished and sickened at the same time.

Kingdom: Well, I guess you HAVE to be telling the truth then. No body would take that risky a gamble if it weren’t a sure thing.

Porno Lad: Oh yeah. Alright BFG, tell ‘em what you told me.

After catching his breathe and briefly eyeing the yo-yo in Kingdom’s hand, wondering if it’s edible, BFG proceeds.

BFG: A couple months ago, Ethan told me…..he told me to stay backstage why he competed. And while I was jus’ sittin’ round on my ass….

Kingdom: An ever widening one I’d imagine.

BFG: I saw Riggs fleeing the building right after you were attacked. He hopped in his car and sped out of the building like he punched the pope.

Johnny stares into BFG’s eyes, as if scanning his soul, trying to be an amateur lie detector. He sees no indications that BFG is lying to him, giving the Team Leader a lot to think about.

Porno Lad: See, told you there was something fishy going on with Riggs. The guy is loco. He attacked me last week for no reason at all. What’s to stop him from snapping and taking you out too? If something isn’t done post haste, then he might come after you again.

The Team Leader normally wouldn’t be so easily swayed, but he’s still brimming with hatred for the culprit who left him lying in a pool of blood not once, but twice.

FREE AT LAST

Robin: She’s got to be around here somewhere!

Brooks, Steward and Dannon stroll down a corridor, looking in all directions. They are still searching for Buehler, Paris sniffing the air like she were a blood hound hot on her scent.

Katie: We’ve searched every inch of the Manhattan Center, she’s nowhere…

Brooks: No we haven’t, we’ve only been looking for like three minutes.

Steward: Yeah, well, I’m bored, so we should stop now.

Robin: Let’s just keep looking for a few more minutes.

The trip proceeds through the backstage corridors, passing the numerous crates and boxes stacked on both their sides. Once they march off camera, their voices fading into silence, a stack of boxes crashes over and Buehler climbs out from behind them. She gets her foot stuck in one of the boxes which she frantically kicks off, all the while looking down the hall to make sure none of the Brat Pack members heard her.

She sighs with relief then turns to take off down the corridor only to bump into the sternum of Jackson Adams. The collision almost knocks her over but Jackson is quick to grab her by the crease of the elbow, keeping her upright.

Katelyn: Oh thank God, it’s just you.

Jackson: Yes, it’s just me.

His words are devoid of emotion.

Buehler: I got away from Robin and the Brat Pack.

Adams: I can see that.

Katelyn: Can you do me a huge favor and take me to Steven?

A chuckle emanates from Adams.

Jackson: Sure I can. I think he’s expecting you in the ring.

Buehler: No, there’s no need for that now, I’m free, just take me to his lockeroom.

Adams: You’d like that wouldn’t you?

Buehler is confused by the harsh tone of his voice.

Katelyn: Yeah, I mean I don’t want to face him.

Jackson: That’s not up to you.

Now Buehler’s more confused than ever.

Buehler: What do you mean?

Adams: I may not like Robin, but I agree that this sham of a relationship needs to end. Come here!

Katelyn screams as she’s hoisted up onto Jackson’s shoulder and the X-Class Champion begins carrying her towards the ring.

Katelyn: Put me down, stop, stop!

Jackson: This is for Steven’s own good. He’s gonna pin you, prove you’re a failure and that your relationship is no more than a hoax.

Buehler: No, please, I got away, I got away!

COMMERCIAL BREAK

The room is dark, and nothing can be seen. a loud metal on metal sound can be heard, and it's getting louder, and louder. A voice speaks through the darkness

"Go Ahead... Silence Me..."

The crowd's boos can be heard from the arena, as a small, red light turns on, revealing a black and white painted face. The guy chuckles.

"For years, you knew me as this man... Hiding behind something, something to always fear... Blaming others for the mistakes I had made, and thinking I had nowhere to turn..."

He wipes his forehead with a cloth

"For years, I called this mask, my sanity; thinking it was the only thing holding me to this world."

He wipes down his cheek.

"But I have found, that there really was no reason..."

He wipes across his eyes, and takes out his contacts.

"I have found, that people forgive you for errors, and completely forget about the past."

He wipes off the rest of the face paint

Simon: I have found a reason to live again, truly live...

The lights turn on, revealing Simon's locker room

Simon: Without the Silence... Without a Mask of Sanity... Without Isolation.

He turns around and looks into the mirror

Simon: I've lived a lifetime in hiding... And now, it's a chance to stop somebody from heading down the same path...

He chuckles

Simon: Because he doesn't know any better.

Simon turns back around to the camera.

Simon: This is why I'm targeting Riggs... To stop him from making the same mistakes I did...

He smiles

Simon: A Broken Silence... A Broken Mind... Mend the mistakes of the past, and you too can realize how...

He closes his eyes

Simon: WASTED!

Simon opens his eyes.

Simon: You have become.

The scene fades

KATELYN BUEHLER VS. HURSE

The show returns from commercial break with the all too familiar lyrics of ‘Hollywood Whore.” After the scene that unfolded just before the break, the fans find themselves a tad more interested than usual. Their intrigue is rewarded by the sight of Jackson Adams stepping through the curtains still holding a kicking and fussing Buehler over his shoulder. The X-Class Champion struggles to keep hold of Katelyn as they near the ring.

Comeau: This situation between Buehler, Hurse and the Brat Pack has just gotten more interesting….

Moore: Are they gonna have a pillow fight? That’s the only thing that would make it interesting in my book.

Mark: Erm, no. What we are about to see, whether Katelyn likes it or not, is a match between herself and her husband Hurse. Neither competitor wants to compete but it’s one of the conditions of Buehler’s release, and Jackson is making sure that she goes through with it.

Adams rolls Katelyn into the ring, and reaches under the ropes to keep hold of her wrist. He holds onto the resistant Buehler just long enough for Brooks, Dannon and Steward to rush from the backstage area. The Brat Pack moves towards the ring and wastes no time surrounding it.

Mark: And now the Brat Pack is making sure that Buehler is trapped in the ring with no possibility of escaping. They’ll get to see their match and it’s all thanks to Jackson Adams.

Susie: Should I bake him a cake? They still make cakes with bacon right?

Jackson backs up the ramp at this point, giving a quick glance towards a confused but thankful Black Widow. Although the two have never seen eye to eye, they seem to be in agreement on this situation. The X-Class number one contender tries to flee the ring, rushing towards one set of ropes only for Steward to jump to the apron blowing her whistle. Katelyn leaps back and then rushes to the other side of the ropes only for Paris to stand up with a chair now in hand, threatening to hit her with it.

Finally Buehler backs to the center of the ring and drops to her knees, realizing that she’ll have to go through with a match against a man she’s developed strong feelings for.

“House of the Rising Sun” hits the PA system. Usually the vocals of the Animals would give Buehler hope, would perk her up a bit, but now she dreads them. Hurse shares an equal amount of dread as he steps to the stage, scratching nervously at the back of his head, unsure how to get himself and Buehler out of this twisted situation.

Mark: Hurse actually coming to the ring. He must know that if he doesn’t show up, an already weakened Buehler will suffer the wrath of the entire Brat Pack. Maybe he thinks he can protect Buehler by wrestling her this evening.

Susie: That sounds ass backwards, which is exactly how I came out of my mother’s uterus.

Comeau: The better part of the night for Buehler was spent being put through a number of strenuous exercises designed to weaken her enough for Hurse to get the win, and I imagine that would drive a wedge between the two, making it look like he’s more concerned with wins than their relationship.

Moore: I am so lost it’s not even funny.

Mark: Well Buehler has been rather psychotic lately about loosing, so another loss here tonight, to her husband of all people, could be the straw that breaks the camel’s back in regards to their marriage.

Hurse tentatively reaches the end of the ramp but doesn’t hesitate to start pleading with Brooks.

Hurse: What are you doing this for? Can’t we just talk?

Brooks: NO! The time for talk is over, Steven. Now get in that ring and show Katelyn just how much you really love her. And if you don’t, Katie, Paris and I, will be willing substitutes for you.

An emotional topsy-turvy Hurse proceeds up the steps and into the ring, having no other option but to face Buehler. He slips through the ropes, finding himself mere inches removed from his wife who steps in to hug him. Hurse holds her at bay though, glancing over his shoulder repeatedly at Brooks.

Mark: I guess it’s official, we’re going to see Buehler versus Hurse right now, and neither of these two can stand another loss so we may actually see them take one another to their limit.

Referee Alex Ingelson stands in the ring, neck still wrapped in a brace and grin on his face. Clearly the official has been paid off by the Brat Pack to referee what should be an unusual confrontation. He calls for the bell to get the madness underway. Even as the bell chimes in the background, the feet of Buehler and Hurse remain rooted to the canvas, neither competitor willing to throw the first punch.

Brooks: Come on Steven! Hit her, hit that annoying little bitch. You know you want to. You know she’s going behind your back with Porno Lad. Make her pay, MAKE HER PAY!

Robin slaps the apron, almost foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog. The demands do nothing to change the situation in the ring, Katelyn and Hurse standing as still as statues. Now Ingelson is imploring them to tie up and to get it on but the competitors remain uphased.

Finally, after taking a deep breathe, Hurse drops straight to his back. He swallows his pride by allowing Buehler to pin him and end the madness. Katelyn looks down at him in bewilderment, wondering if she should pin him or not.

Robin: Look, he thinks you can’t beat him, Katelyn! He thinks your too weak and that he’ll hurt you. He thinks you’re a FAILURE!

Buehler tries not to listen but can’t help herself, wondering if there’s any merit to Robin’s venomous claims. She stares down at Steven, who looks up at her in concern.

Hurse: You know that’s not true. I….I….care about you is all.

Now Katelyn is trapped between her feelings of affection, guilt and paranoia.

Brooks: No he doesn’t! He’s just using you to make me and Porno Lad jealous! Your no more than a prop to him.

Hurse: Katelyn, you know me. Just pin me and we can get out of here.

Robin: Go ahead, take the cheap pin, let him keeping on thinking that you’re weak! Go on letting yourself be USED!

Buehler is loosing her mind, hair gripped in palms, ready to rip it from her scalp. She has no idea what to do or who to believe.

Mark: Robin Brooks playing off of Katelyn’s paranoia, and Hurse trying to reach her on an emotional level.

Moore: This is just like one of those daytime soap operas, with less evil twins.

The Black Widow leans palms first against the apron, continuing to warp Buehler’s mind with her words.

Brooks: Show him just how good you really are, Buehler. Prove to him and the world that you’re no failure. Tell Steven that you don’t need his charity to win matches, that your not USELESS, that your more than just the victim.

Tears form in Buehler’s eyes, her emotions spiraling in all different directions. Part of her wants to simply dismiss everything that Robin has said, but the words are gnawing away at her, playing to all her suspicions. A smiling Robin can see this, prompting her devilish tongue to wag once more.

Robin: Why don’t you demonstrate to Steven, just how much this win means to you. You can prove that Porno Lad was wrong about you, that you’re a winner, that you can even beat a former World Heavyweight Champion, and do it not just because Steven is showing you mercy. Maybe Ethan will take you back after you’ve pinned and humiliated this cheating son of a bitch.

Hurse shakes his head, pleading with Buehler not to listen and to just pin him so that they can be reunited.

Mark: What is Buehler going to do with Robin out here saying all the right things and playing devil’s advocate?

Susie: But she looks nothing like Al Pacino. She hasn’t even said “HOOHA” once so far.

Brooks is growing flustered with Buehler’s reluctance.

Robin: I said attack him, tear him apart, put an end to him using you, and you using him. Show Steven you don’t actually care about him either, that if he didn’t force you to marry him, there would be NOTHING between you. End this and get back together with the man you really care about.

Now its Hurse left to ponder Robin’s comments but he will not be bewitched by them. He remains resolute, convinced that allowing Buehler to pin him would be the best course of action. The decision rests on Buehler’s shoulders though, does she listen to Robin and go to war with her husband in an act that would end their relationship but prove she’s a winner, or does she simply pin Steven, and reunite with him?

It’s at this point that she begins questioning whether or not she really does have feelings for Hurse. Are they what’s keeping her from following through with Robin’s orders? Has their relationship really become more than just a rouse to make Porno Lad and Brooks jealous? Is she ready to admit that there’s something more between herself and Hurse, or does she pulverize the man who forced her to marry him and as thus quash any doubts that she’s a failure?

Mark: What’s it going to be Katelyn?

Moore: I hope she picks the mystery box.

Comeau: That’s not even an opti….here’s a hammer, hit yourself with it.

Susie: No need to tell me twice. YAY!

With mixed emotions Buehler clinches her fists and steps towards Hurse, having finally made up her mind. As a truly sadistic grin is hatched on Robin’s face her world crumbles. Buehler’s fists turn to middle fingers, the gesture being made in the Black Widow’s direction. The grin is gone, replaced with a furious frown.

Mark: I think that’s Robin’s answer.

Susie: Hmmm, so giving someone the middle finger count as an answer? Why haven’t I just been using them on all those exams I took in high-school.

Katelyn drops down on top of Hurse and hooks his leg, technically going through with the match that Brooks demanded. A confused Ingelson has no other option but to drop and slap the canvas.

1

2

A set of hands grabs Ingelson by the ankle and drags him out of the ring. Alex falls to his feet right in front of Paris Dannon before being laid out with a stiff jab to the jaw. The crooked official is toppled to the mats while Steward and Brooks are sliding into the ring.

Comeau: Alex Ingelson viciously taken out before the full three count could be made. It appears that the Brat Pack is putting an end to this farce!

Neither Buehler nor Hurse are aware of the forces descending upon them until it’s too late. A boot from Steward knocks Buehler to her back, leaving her sprawled and defenseless across the canvas. The Black Widow pounces on her former lover, the man who almost married her in the center of the ring now suffers at the bottom of her boots.

Katelyn tries to get up, struggling to a knee with Katie screaming at her all the while. She delivers a weak jab to Katie’s gut, just enough to double her over. The irate Robin steps in now and receives a shot to the ribs as well. Surprisingly Katelyn is holding her own, estrogen flowing through your veins.

Just as she looks on the brink of a comeback, a chair cracks her over the back, swung by Paris. The shot is stiff enough to knock Katelyn to the canvas, where she’s buried beneath a barrage of boots from the Brat Pack.

Comeau: Katelyn being laid to waste now, the Brat Pack’s numbers advantage just too much.

Susie: I wonder how you join the Brat Pack, do you think they’re accepting applications?

Robin turns back towards Hurse who is employing the ropes to drag himself to his feet. She and Paris step in and quickly begin to wrap the ropes around his biceps, completely trapping him.

Once Hurse comes to he’s stunned by the realization that his arms are trapped in the ropes. He’s left entirely defenseless against the slaps delivered to his cheek by Brooks.

Robin: You failed me AGAIN! And this time there will be consequences.

After receiving a second slap to the cheek, leaving his flesh blood red, Robin turns and approaches the disabled Buehler. Katie snatches her victim by the hair, forcing her up to her feet and pinning her arms behind her back. She screams loudly into Katelyn’s ears all the while.

Steward: See, this is why I was trying to get your fat ass into shape.

The Black Widow takes her prey around the neck, putting her in position for the Spider Bite. Robin locks eyes on Hurse who is still feebly struggling against the ropes.

Robin: You don’t care about her, Steven. Admit it, admit it or I’ll break her neck! ADMIT IT!

Hurse scrambles to try and find a way out of the ropes, but once he realizes that he’s completely detained he breaks down.

Hurse: Alright FINE! If that’s what you want to hear. Just promise me you’ll let Katelyn go.

Brooks: HA! Considering that you didn’t stick by your vows, why should I stick by my word?

She begins to drop down and hit a stunner on her almost comatose victim.

Hurse: ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT. I’m just using her, okay. I still only have eyes for you, alright!?! Are you happy now?

Robin: Not even close. But I will be in a few moments.

Robin clamps her arms a little tighter around Buehler’s neck, ready to snap it with her variation of the stunner. Hurse’s pleas fall on deaf ears, his former lover obsessed with destroying the woman that he married. All hope looks lost for Hurse and his bride, the Brat Pack about to accomplish what they set out to do so many weeks ago.

Brooks begins to drop and deliver the neck shattering stunner when “Original Prankster” hits the PA system. Robin stops cold in her tracks, Katie and Paris spinning around with wide eyes towards the entry way. From the back steps Porno Lad himself, still employing the walker to get down the ramp.

Comeau: Porno Lad on the scene! But why is he here, and how much help or hindrance can be for Buehler and Hurse with a broken toe nail?

With the crowd screaming and chanting his name, Porno Lad lifts the walker into the air and tosses it out of his way. He now bolts straight at the ring towards the stunned Brat Pack members.

Moore: Porno Lad is so tough. How could he overcome that debilitating toe nail injury in such a short span of time?

Mark: Maybe because there wasn’t one to begin with.

The fans are all fired up, just like Porno Lad as he slides into the ring and ducks an inbound chair shot from Paris. The Prankster steps up behind Paris, grabs her by the hair and pants then pitches her through the ropes to the outside of the ring.

Porno Lad spins around at this point and finds himself trading blows with the Black Widow. Robin is stunned however, when the N.H.B Champion starts getting the better of her. His shots connect with a little more power and speed, causing Brooks to stumble backwards across the ring.

All the while Katie is still pinning Buehler’s arms behind her back, employing her as a shield to protect herself. That’s when Buehler snaps out of it and hits a reverse elbow to her ribs, doubling Steward over.

Katelyn: HIIIIYAAAA!

Steward is snapmared over Buehler’s shoulder and sent rolling across the canvas, eventually spilling out of it and landing at Paris’ aside.

Mark: I never thought I’d see this, but Porno Lad is actually helping out Hurse and Buehler. Why?

Susie: Because he’s the sweetest of the sweetest. Seriously, his skin taste like caramel.

Another right to Brooks’ jaw sends the shocked Black Widow turning into a dropkick. Both of Katelyn’s feet knock Robin straight down to the canvas, which she rolls across in order to exit the ring. The Submission Champion tumbles to the mats as Katie and Paris step in to help out.

Mark: The Brat Pack cleared out of the ring by Porno Lad and his ex lover. Maybe they’ve finally gotten over their issues with one another.

Susie: Yay, now I can invite another person to my tea party.

A truly relived and ever so grateful Hurse pries his arms free from the ropes. He staggers forward into the arms of Buehler, the two embracing in a hug. To Porno Lad he’ll be forever in debt, if it weren’t for the N.H.B Champion, he’d never have Buehler back in his embrace and realize that he truly does care for her.

As they hug Katelyn has a number of questions racing through her mind. Questions concerning whether Hurse is the man she wants to be hugging.

Mark: Buehler and Hurse finally reunited, and it’s all thanks to Porno Lad.

Robin tries to pry herself out of the arms of Paris but can’t get loose. Dannon holds on for dear life, wanting to see no further harm come to the Queen. Katie just stands back holding her wounded belly and mumbling threats in Buehler’s direction.

Comeau: Once again Robin’s plans have went awry. She held far too low an opinion of Buehler and Hurse.

Katelyn finally breaks away and pats Steven on the shoulder, thanking him for all his hard work, realizing that his life has been hell over the past few weeks. She turns to thank the man she had almost abandoned hope in, the man who went from wanting to crack her in the jaw to saving her from the stunner. With her hand extended she turns to Porno Lad only to find him crouched down ready to deliver the Epic Fail.

He steps forward to deliver the spinning superkick on Katelyn only to allow Hurse to leap into the way. He steps in the line of fire but Porno Lad doesn’t unload with the superkick, instead he stops and smiles at the panicked Parkwood. D

Comeau: I think this is Porno Lad’s way of telling Katelyn and Hurse that their issues are far from through.

Moore: Or maybe he was just rehabbing that broken toe nail.

Porno Lad’s smile grows the length of the equator, amused by the terrified expression on Hurse’s face. Katelyn peaks over her husband’s shoulder, realizing that Hurse cared enough to take the Epic Fail in order to protect her. As the original prankster goes to exit the ring, one leg draped over the middle rope, he offers a parting shot in the form of a chilling comment.

Porno Lad: If anyone’s gonna break her neck, it’s gonna be me.

The warning is heard loud and clear by the married couple, understanding that Porno Lad’s assistance doesn’t come without a price.

YOU GOT SOME ‘SPLAINING TO DO

Just like on the prior Riot! Riggs finds himself hobbling through the backstage corridor. He is still suffering the effects of what became a handicap match earlier in the night. All he wants to do is curl up in a ball in his lockeroom and allow the agony to subside, but much like everyone lurking backstage his wishes must quickly be abandoned.

Orlando: Riggs….

The shadowy figure looks up through the melted paint on his face, staring straight into the eyes of an angered Icon. Orlando has his arms crossed and his brow furrowed, not hesitating to show his anger, unlike the rather portly individual cowering behind Cruze’s back. BFG peaks around Orlando at a very confused Riggs.

Cruze: You and I need to have a talk.

Obviously BFG’s eye witness testimony has reached Orlando’s ears, having gotten the info straight from the horse’s mouth, and now it’s time for Riggs to answer some difficult questions. Questions that Riggs does not appear ready to answer.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

The Fastest Way to Commit Career Suicide

SILENCING BOREDOM

Riot! returns with a truly chilling visual, no, not Kathy Bates skinny dipping in a hot tub. The cameras circle a casket in the center of the ring, an object that would normally inspire the hair on the back of one’s neck to stand on end. Generic Gregorian chanting is heard in the background, adding to the desired effect.

Susie: Oh no, I’m too pretty to die. I’m not dead am I? I have so much unused hair bleach.

Mark: I’m sure it would go to a worthy cause. But no, you’re not dead, unfortunately. That casket is in the ring for some reason, only known to the owner.

Moore: I hope it’s not Zombie Buddy Holly again.

When confused the crowd tends to boo, so that’s what some of them do. Others, the ones not wearing sideways tilted caps with nacho crumbs falling out of their mouths, sit and speculate. The time for questions and boos comes to an end when the casket lid opens and Simon Cagero sits up like he were an awakening vampire.

Mark: Ohhhh, I guess this is Simon Cagero’s big “presentation” he was yammering on about earlier.

Susie: Cagero is a vampire? But he’s not even wearing a colorful Indian headdress.

The serious expression on Simon’s face is only present for a moment before transforming into a grin.

Simon: Sorry for the cheesy theatrics, but it’s the only way that people in the IWC will take notice of you, short of stealing a title belt or kidnapping useless skanks. Or wearing thick mascara around your eyes and lamenting about the joys of sadomasochism. But you know what, I thought I’d try something a little more over the top, a little different.

Simon situates himself in the comfortable casket.

Cagero: Plus I caught a killer nap in here. Was great, missed half the show, although, I don’t know that I was actually “missing” it.

He chuckles to himself, amused by his play on words. The crowd doesn’t know what to think, so they cheer and smile, then cheer some more.

Simon: With that said, let’s get to the slightly creepy speech. What is death? Be it bittersweet? Bitter, in the sense that it's the end of life; sweet in the sense, that it's the beginning of everything else... We are gathered here to celebrate the long-since dead life of the IWC; it was a beautiful entity, but has long since been eaten alive by the boring and mundane. Caused by the Riggs, the Evans, Orlando's and Kingdoms of this world.

The crowd would normally boo, but Simon went through the tedious process of renting a coffin, an item that tends not to be rented out very often, they feel obligated to cheer.

Simon: But this is not a place to blame. This is not a mourning of a loss; this is a celebration of life!

He throws his arms out to his sides, gesturing towards the elaborate set up he spent a pretty penny to arrange.

Simon: It lived a long life; one with many twists, and turns; many different experiences... And it taught us, through it's long lasting life, that home is where the heart is. No matter how long someone's been away; regardless of the reason, it's always going to accept us, it's always going to be there with open arms.

His arms wrap around his body, embracing himself with a hug.

Simon: But now, we can rejoyce, for from the ashes, raises something spectacular; not seen in this world for years... NAY! Millenia! For the IWC has come to terms with one man, and only one man... One that can put everyone else to shame... ONE THAT CAN BRING SALVATION TO THE IWC!

Cagero balls up his fingers into a powerful fist, one that is raised to the heavens.

Simon: Somebody that makes people like Riggs, look like a baby... Somebody that makes him look like a whining, sniveling piece of shit. Somebody that makes him appear to be less than nothing... And of course, that man is yours truly... The one you all threw aside, the one you all took for granted; the ONLY ONE CAPABLE of bringing the IWC back, not to it's former glory, but greater, far beyond what it was before; a new life is upon us.

The sermon proceeds with Simon envisioning the new and improved landscape of the IWC. A landscape on which Cagero will be the groundskeeper.

Simon: But in the breathing of life back into a place, means sacrificing one or two victims, in the good name of Simon Cagero. For he is everything you want, and everything the IWC needs; forever, and ever; Amen.

He lowers his head in a moment of silent for all those will need to fall for his vision to become a reality.

Simon: Now as you leave today; hold your hearts high, and believe in the words of the Wasted one... Believe that people like Riggs, are not fit for this world.. Not fit for the IWC that I, single handedly am breathing life back into... And so, I leave you, with a promise that he, Riggs, will end up like that of Pat Evans... He will end up like you, and like me... He will end up...

A deep breathe is taken, building suspense for his trademark quote.

Simon: WASTED

The crowd applauds excitedly.

Comeau: Simon Cagero making a very theatric point.

Moore: That’s how all points should be made, or with fireworks.

Simon: Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to hit the sack and have another of those glorious wet dreams. Wet dreams that would even make Porno Lad blush. Have fun watching the overbooked main event.

The lid is closed, Simon sealing himself off from the rest of the world and returning t his dreams, which actually inspire instead of bore.

Mark: As if we hadn’t already heard enough from Cagero, he just gave us another ear full, specifying precisely why he’s back and how he intends to….

The reason that Mark’s sentence trails off becomes obvious the moment Riggs slides into the ring, long chain hanging from his palms.

Comeau: What is Riggs doing here?

Moore: Aww, he’s brought me something shinny to play for.

Mark: I don’t think that’s what the chain is intended for.

The chain is thrown across the surface of the coffin. Before Simon can get out and defend himself, Riggs employs a pad lock to close the chain tightly around the casket, making it impossible for Cagero to crawl free.

Mark: Now Riggs has just chained that casket shut with Simon still trapped inside. I guess he didn’t like what Cagero had to say about him.

Susie: Why? Just because it was horribly insulting?

Mark: Maybe.

The lid is raised from within the casket but not with enough force to break the chain. Cagero is desperately trying to get out but finds himself completely at the mercy of a very twisted soul. Riggs’ intentions become clear when from one pocket a bottle of lighter fluid is removed, and from the other a lighter is withdrawn.

Comeau: Hold on now, hold on Riggs! Put that lighter down and think about this.

Susie: I don’t know about that, thinking hurts, a lot.

Mark: For you maybe, but it would be nowhere near as painful as being burnt alive. That’s exactly what Riggs has planned for the trapped Cagero.

Lighter fluid douses the surface of the casket, Cagero smelling it and becoming increasingly frantic to escape. Riggs on the other hand, elicits a far different reaction from the scent, a satisfied smile and a chill that goes up his back. But he’s about to be warmed via bonfire. A spark shoots from the lighter and he lowers it slowly towards the surface of the casket. He cares not about taking a human life as long as it ends an annoyance.

Mark: No Riggs, don’t!

The crowd is pleading with Riggs to listen to any semblance of a conscious. There is no voice in Riggs’ head that agrees with the crowd. The casket is moments from going up in ablaze when Johnny Kingdom comes barreling down the ramp, steel pipe gripped in his palm.

Comeau: Now its Kingdom coming to the rescue!

Moore: All he needs are some flashy tights and some horrible acting skills and he’ll be a full fledged Power Ranger.

Mark: I don’t think Kingdom’s intentions are quite so noble.

Susie: So we’re not gonna see Rita throw down her staff and make Riggs enormous so Johnny has to battle him in his Megazord?

Comeau: I wouldn’t count on it.

Johnny slides into the ring, hops to his feet and swings the pipe at Riggs’ head just in time to keep him from sending Simon’s career up in flames. At the very last conceivable second, Riggs ducks the inbound pipe, drops to the canvas and rolls out of harm’s way.

Comeau: Johnny almost took Riggs’ head off with the pipe, eye for an eye justice in Kingdom’s view.

The twisted soul lurks at ringside, staring into the squared circle at a fuming Kingdom. The Team Leader’s grip tightens on the pipe, realizing that there’s only so long Riggs can avoid it. In Johnny’s mind it’ll only be a matter of time before he gets his hands on Riggs, and beats answers out of his body.

Mark: The mystery surrounding the attacks on Kingdom continues to gain intrigue. But I think Johnny now has himself convinced that Riggs was the one responsible. Although last week he thought it was Nathan. This is getting too confusing.

Susie: It be easier if everyone just settled their disputes with Megazords.

Riggs watches through soulless eyes as Johnny symbolically pats the pipe against his palm.

HANDOUT

The door creeps open just enough for the hefty frame of BFG to squeeze through. Despite the sparse light filtering through the crack BFG can make out a figure seated in the pitch black chamber.

BFG: Are you…..

Yes….I’m here. Come in.

A hand protrudes from the shadow into the light, gesturing for the portly bodyguard to inch closer. A tentative BFG tries to see in the dark, making sure no one is prepared to ensnare him in a trap. His paranoia is working overtime given this shady situation and the unscrupulous characters he’s working with.

BFG: Do you got it?

Of course….I’m a man of my word after-all.

A roll of twenties is extended towards BFG. Just as he reaches out to take them the money is pulled away from his grubby, chicken grease smeared fingers.

I trust you passed on the message to Porno Lad and Cruze?

With a lowered head and labored breathes BFG responds.

BFG: Not that I like it….

I’m not a shrink, I don’t need to hear you whine. Answer the question!

Again BFG struggles against his shame.

BFG: Yes, I told them.

And did they believe you?

BFG: Ethan bought it, not sure about Orlando….

Judging by Kingdom’s response I trust you were convincing enough. Now take your money.

The cash is slammed into BFG’s palm. The mysterious figure closing his hand around the wad and holding it tight.

But realize that this money comes at a price.

BFG: Yeah, I understand. Just so you know though, it makes my skin crawl working with you.

A typical reaction...

BFG: I only did this because I had to…..

A palm is raised from the darkness.

Save your explanations, I don’t waste time listening to backstabbers.

BFG: What?

You sold out Riggs, you sold out your best bud, and you sold out yourself, all for what, a few grand? Money!?! A little dinero? Are you really so obsessed with material belongings that you would even turn your back on your closest friend, your only friend? Just how close are you and Porno Lad?

BFG: I’m just followin’ his example, playa’. He hasn’t used me lately, so gotta make the Benjamins somehow.

Get out of my sight before I vomit.

Although BFG would normally respond with five knuckles to the face, now that he’s got cash in hand he realizes he had best not gamble it.

BFG: Whatever.

He maneuvers his thick frame around the door and into the hallway, slamming it shut behind him. A blinding array of light explodes in the center of the room. The light-bulb sways from a chain above Christian Savior’s head, a head that is shaking in disgust.

It seems that everything is coming together.

The sultry, curvaceous frame of Rose steps from the dimly lit corner, her fingers sliding onto Christian’s shoulders. He doesn’t look up to greet her with his eyes, he just continues to shake his head.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Behold the evil of the Black Scorpion

SEAN JOHNSON & ROBIN BROOKS & CHRISTIAN SAVIOR
VS.
AXL EVERMORE & AURORA ROSE & JOHNNY KINGDOM

The cameras return to the ring, finding Johnny Kingdom present yet pacing. The pipe is no longer in hand, replaced with his World Championship which some fortunate stagehand retrieved from the backstage area.

Comeau: Our World Champion has been out here since he took that swing at Riggs’ head. He has no intention of going anyplace until he gets out some of his frustrations.

Susie: He should go to the same therapist my parents sent me to when I had my eating disorder.

Mark: HAD?

Moore: Yes, back then I was eating once a week, but my therapist fixed that, now I don’t eat at all.

Comeau: How completely irrelevant.

The pacing Kingdom is growing impatient, after his botched attack on Riggs, he at least wants something to show for his troubles. His frustration only seems to increase when Aurora Rose’s entrance music hits the PA system, resulting in a loud uproar from the crowd. Although she came up short several weeks ago in her bid to be a contender, Aurora moves to the ring with all the enthusiasm of a champion. She springs to the apron then over the top rope, making several punk rock gestures to her adoring audience.

World Champion Johnny Kingdom is less than enthused with Aurora’s presence, yet he realizes teaming with her is a necessary evil on this evening. What concerns him even greater, is who’s going to come through the curtains as his OTHER partner, whether Evermore will be good or if another selection has been made to take up the slack in this pending confrontation.

Comeau: Aurora Rose and Johnny Kingdom certainly make an interesting pear, but who is going to fill out this trio?

Moore: I remember when I filled out, and all it took was a couple surgeries to accomplish it.

Mark: Erm, yeah.

The crowd teems, feeling the tension in the air as they wait for the arrival of Evermore or a replacement of equal or greater value. They were prepared for the worse, but nobody was ready to hear the lyrics that tore through the PA system.

YOU BETTER GO AWAY!

Johnny’s face goes as white as a corpse’s knuckle, and Aurora’s jaw hangs like it were strapped to an anvil.

Moore: Uh oh.

Mark: Yeah, I think this situation has just gone from bad to worse, if your in Kingdom’s shoes that is.

Susie: That’s not what I was talking about. I wasn’t letting out a silent one and something slipped.

Comeau: Just, just, wow.

Through the curtains steps a man Kingdom wasn’t expecting to see tonight, the man who left him crippled, bloodied and deprived of the World Title at Paranoia III, THE Big Crazy Bastard himself. AWOL steps into a hailstorm of various reactions, some cheers, others truly distasteful. Obviously the fans, no matter how short their attention spans may be, haven’t forgotten what happened earlier tonight, what AWOL did to Max Craven in the center of the ring. An action that now makes a little more sense.

Comeau: I don’t know why AWOL is coming out here. I can’t imagine that Orlando would be that sadistic to team him up with Johnny Kingdom.

Moore: Maybe he’s trying to create a new Blue Man Group, considering they’re all three as bald as my vag…

Mark: YIKES!

The fans remember more than just the attack on Craven as AWOL enters the ring. After all, the assault earlier in the night pales in comparison to what the Big Crazy Bastard did to Kingdom in their final confrontation. Perhaps it’s the fact that AWOL did not accomplish his goal three years ago, considering that Kingdom was left capable of not only returning to the ring but winning the World Title, that compels him to slip through the ropes and come face to face with the Team Leader.

Once again his motivations remain clear to only one person, himself. As he comes eye to eye with Kingdom, the memories of what these to men put each other through are so vivid you’d think their war waged only a few weeks ago. Their issues, their hostility, their unbridled hatred for one another truly transcends time, becoming evident the moment they lock eyes and come within inches of one another.

Comeau: What’s going to happen now? Is AWOL here to hurt or help?

Susie: Can’t he do both?

Johnny is prepared for any contingency and Aurora is ready to dive in to the fray if necessary, although she realizes that trying to separate them would be an exercise in futility. Nobody is sure what AWOL is up to, but his deep, menacing breathes and that twisted twinkle in his eyes do not bode well for the Team Leader.

Just as age old tensions threaten to hop in a Delorean and travel to the present, AWOL steps past his most bitter rival, slips through the cables to the apron and grabs the tag rope. He raises it as blatantly as possible and even gestures towards it with his finger so that Rose, and more importantly Kingdom, will get a clue.

Mark: Well I guess that settles it, at least in AWOL’s mind. He’s out here to take Axl’s place and team with Rose and Kingdom. My brain can’t even begin to fathom that this is really happening.

Moore: That’s why I just turn my brain off, or try and stab it with a cuetip.

Clearly AWOL is out here for the paycheck, not some misguided attempt to finish old business. Johnny however, is having a great deal of trouble accepting that, especially as he judges the snide grin on AWOL’s face.

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.

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

Behind Christian’s back emerges Rose, she wraps her arm around the Rising Phoenix’s neck and mouths some words of encouragement straight into his ear. After offering up her advice she proceeds to the backstage area. 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.

Comeau: And here’s the source of a LOT of controversy, not only tonight but over the past several weeks. He basically gave Pat Evans his World Title shot, although we’re not sure whether or not Evans is going to accept it, and earlier on we saw him pay off BFG to bear false witness against Riggs.

Susie: I bear false witness all the time, when I pretend that I’m watching what’s happening in the ring when I’m really just talking about the things I imagine in my head.

Mark: Well I doubt your imagination will be as interesting as this encounter.

Moore: I doubt it, there’s no Power Rangers in the ring at all.

Christian turns to stare at the trifecta of talent assembled before him, obviously taking note of his new opponent, AWOL.

Tell me exactly
what am I supposed to do?
Now that I have
allowed you to beat me!
Do you think that
we could play another game?
Maybe I can win this time?
I kind of like
the misery you put me through.
Darling, you can trust me
completely.
If you even try
to look the other way,
I think that I could kill this time.

Rah! Rah!
Rah! Rah!

It doesn't really seem
I'm getting through to you.
Though I see you weeping so sweetly.
I think that you might
have to take another taste,
a little bit of hell this time.

Rah! Rah!
Lie to me!
Rah! Rah!
Lie to me!

Is she not right?
Is she insane?
Will she now run for her life
in the battle that ends this day?
Is she not right?!
Is she insane?!
Will she now run for her life
now that she LIED TO ME!

You always wanted
people to remember you.
You leave your little mark on
society!
Don't you know your wish
is coming true today?
Another victim dies tonight.

Rah! Rah!
Lie to me!
Rah! Rah!
Lie to me!

Is she not right?
Is she insane?
Will she now run for her life
in the battle that ends this day?
Is she not right?!
Is she insane?!
Will she now run for her life
now that she LIED TO ME!

Ramidi ma ma ba di ma!
Ramidi ma ma din do!
Ramidi ma ma ba di ma!
Ramidi ma ma ba di mo!
[all x3]

Is she really telling lies again?
Doesn't she realize she's in danger?

Eeeeeeeyow!

Is she not right?
Is she insane?
Will she now run for her life
in the battle that ends this day?
Is she not right?!
Is she insane?!
Will she now run for her life
now that she LIED TO ME!

The little bitch,
she went and she told A LIE!
Now she will never tell another.
A LIE!
The little bitch,
she went and she told A LIE!
NEVER FUCKING LIE TO ME!

The perturbed Submission Champion steps to the stage, shoulder weighed down by the Submission gold and proceeds directly towards the ring. She pays no mind to the fans, intent on getting out his frustrations on her impending opponents.

As the Black Widow enters the ring, showing off her Submission Title like it were a check from Publisher Clearing House, Christian glares at her like she were sheering the skin from kittens. Obviously he does not like teaming with her, not one little bit, and Robin shares that sentiment.

Mark: We’re busy sitting here talking about the unstable alliance between AWOL and Kingdom….

Moore: I’m not.

Comeau:….and yet we’ve barely mentioned that Christian and Robin are going to team up. These two have a load of history with one another. Who will forget their clash in that Ladder Match at Paranoia IV?

Alliances on both sides of the ring are uneasy, and about to be made even more unstable with the arrival of Sean Johnson. The second his entrance music hits the PA system, Robin and Christian can finally bear to take their eyes off of one another. The Griffin pompously sashays towards the ring, sans Poopers for the evening, considering that it’s probably still having the Psycho mask ripped off of its face backstage. He starts up the steps and to the apron, looking back and forth at his opponents then desperately towards his partners.

Sean: Where’s Axl? Where is he!?! Where are you hiding him!?!

He points an accusative finger at Kingdom, wagging it and wagging it good, before Robin explains what happened to Axl. The moment that Johnson realizes that he will not get the Cartel Title match he had dreamt up, he sighs, hangs his head and crosses his arms in a pouting manner.

Mark: Sean Johnson had high expectations for this match, but he should keep his head up. A win over a former World Champion in AWOL, a current World Champion in Johnny Kingdom, and perhaps a future World Champion in Aurora Rose, would certainly give him something to brag about.

Moore: I brag when I don’t get shampoo in my eye while showering.

Comeau: That’s because you literally having nothing to feel good about.

When the bell sounds Christian and Robin give each other a quick glance then reach over the ropes, hook Johnson by both armpits and double hip toss him over the ropes into the ring. Sean ducks into a forward roll and ends up on his feet, spinning around with a flabbergasted expression on his face. Brooks and Savior make tagging motions with their hands, implying that HE’S the legal man starting it out for this team.

On the opposite side of the ring there is also no debate about who will start the action because Johnny Kingdom is already barreling up behind Johnson. Although Aurora might have wanted to try and get her hands on the man she’ll face at Upping the Ante, she has no problem with allowing Johnny to soften him up a little first.

And that’s exactly what Kingdom does, he spins Sean around in the midst of his argument with his partners, and decks him with a vicious haymaker. Perhaps he pictures Riggs’ head on Sean’s body, or maybe he wants to get the match over in a hurry so he won’t have to chance depending on AWOL, whatever the motivation he now lays into Johnson with stomps.

Comeau: Johnny getting this match underway and in a quick fashion. We’ve seen an entirely different side of the Team Leader over the past few weeks since that attack with the lead pipe, he’s been far more aggressive and far more paranoid.

A stunned Johnson rolls away from the boots of his opponent and rushes to his feet. He plants his souls to the canvas when a blistering chop connects to his sternum. Sean turns away from the Team Leader and staggers in the direction of a turnbuckle.

He falls against it as Kingdom steps in and nails a headbunt directly to his kidneys.

Mark: Johnny using every part of his body to inflict some punishment.

Moore: Not every part, and if he does use it, I doubt anyone would find it punishing.

Kingdom grabs Sean by the wrist and whips him across the ring towards the opposite turnbuckle. However, Sean surprises the World Champion by putting the breaks on it, turning to face Kingdom and reversing the grasp onto Johnny’s wrist. He uses this clutch to pull Johnny into a short arm clothesline only to have the Champion duck the inbound bicep.

Sean spins around and gets nailed with yet another knife edge chop that knocks him back first into the very turnbuckle he briefly escaped from. Kingdom now grabs his wrist and whips him across the ring into the diagonal corner yet again.

A reeling Griffin turns around and smacks into the turnbuckle forcefully, almost falling out of it only to hook the top rope with the crease of his elbow. He remains upright just long enough for Kingdom to come barreling in like Lindsey Lohan behind the wheel of a runaway car.

This time he crashes into the raised boot of Johnson. The shot knocks Kingdom backwards a few steps, swinging one arm to remain upright. He barely has his wits about him before Sean charges out of the corner, going for that lariat yet again. This time Kingdom side steps the arm, and surprises everyone by dragging the Griffin down into a crossface, or at the very least an attempt at it.

Comeau: Johnny already going for that Lesson in Leadership and with how amped up he is, the Team Leader might just get the submission.

Moore: That way we can all leave early tonight, and I can show everyone my puppet show. It’s an erotic puppet show.

Mark: I feel all tingly just thinking about it.

Before the submission can be locked in, Sean ducks his head and drops into a forward roll, ending up on his feet and freeing his arm from the submission predicament. He rushes into the ropes, bouncing off of them while Robin slaps his shoulder, making the blind tag.

Johnson comes charging into Kingdom who ducks down and sets perhaps too soon for the back drop. Sean stops just short of him, drops to his back and nails an uppercut directly to Kingdom’s forehead. The blow causes Johnny to stand up straight, eyes fluttering as he tries to remain conscious. That’s when Robin steps in and lunges into the air, nailing a dropkick on the prone Kingdom’s sternum.

Comeau: Now we’re beginning to see some cohesion between the team of Johnson, Brooks and Savior.

Christian claps as politely as the Queen of England, and he has cause for celebration, considering that Johnny’s offensive has finally been shut down. Kingdom sits up, holding his jaw after taking a dropkick on top of the uppercut. After checking to ensure that all his teeth are in place he begins to roll to his feet only to have Robin step in, grab his arm and jump over his back.

Johnny is pulled over into a cradle.

1

The Team Leader kicks out, dropping to his knees as Robin stands up in front of him. The second she’s upright, Kingdom reaches out grabs the creases of her knees and lifts them up into the air. Robin tumbles to her back with Johnny flipping forward into the jackknife cover.

1

Johnson, who had yet to vacate the ring, steps in to break up the pinfall attempt by dropping an elbow to Kingdom’s ribs. Unfortunately his plan goes as haywire as a cheap Apple computer, Kingdom rolling out of the way and causing Sean’s elbow to meet Robin’s diaphragm.

Comeau: Johnson’s elbow missing it’s mark and meeting another, Robin’s chest.

Sean stands up and looks on in shock over what he’s done, but before he can question whether it was a good or bad thing, his focus shifts to a now standing Kingdom. He rushes straight at Johnny who drops to his back, pulling down on the top rope and low bridging him.

Sean’s momentum carries him over the cables and sends him crashing to the outside mats while Johnny uses his grasp on the top rope to bridge his body back to its feet. The moment he stands up AWOL reaches over the ropes, extending his palm in a friendly gesture, asking for the tag.

Kingdom glances at the palm then up into AWOL’s face, questioning what the big man’s plans really are. After contemplating on it for several seconds, Kingdom realizes he’s unable to reach a decision, whether he should suddenly trust the man who tried to kill him, or depend on only himself.

Aurora takes the choice right out of his hands, using hers to slap Kingdom’s shoulder and tag herself into the ring. Rose slips through the ropes and before a protest can be made, bolts directly at the struggling Brooks. The Queen just reached her feet only to be nailed with a lariat taking her down to the ring.

Brooks rolls across the canvas, standing just in time to receive a running forearm strike from the Punk Rock Princess. The blow rattles every tooth in Robin’s mouth, and sends her toppling to the canvas like a tree, well, a small tree, like a Bonsai tree or something.

Robin grabs her lips, and instinctively rises to her feet only to be taken down this time by the point of Aurora’s knee. Rose gets great extension on the jumping knee strike to the side of Brooks’ head. The blow sends Robin right back down with Aurora scrambling on top of her into a pinfall.

1

2

Rose is a bit flustered when Robin launches a shoulder and staves off defeat, at least for a few moments longer.

Comeau: Aurora into the ring and dishing out damage. The Queen getting anything but the royal treatment from Rose.

Moore: I was treated as royalty once. I made all the peoples of Grayskull kneel before me….MWAHAHAHA.

Mark: That was Skeletor.

Susie: I know I may be anorexic, but there’s no need for name calling.

Aurora has Robin reeling like a fish caught on a hook. Now Aurora nets her catch, pulling Robin to her feet and sending her off into the ropes. When Robin reaches the cables she shows almost Million Dollar Woman-esque skills by jumping over the top rope, twisting around and landing on the apron. All she needed were the cheesy, redundant sound effects.

Rose spins around and charges at Robin, not letting her bask in the glow of her moment. She stoops over to drive a shoulder through the ropes when Robin flips over the top rope, over Aurora, down her back and pulls her into a sunset flip.

Aurora rolls straight through before so much as a palm could get near the canvas. She ends up on her feet, Robin seated before her in a very precarious position.

Before Robin can beg for mercy, Aurora rushes in, going for a kick that would end any further attempts by Brooks to win a beauty pageant. Robin drops to her spine though and prevents disaster, wedging her feet to Rose’s gut and monkey flipping her over.

Brooks barely has time to gloat, quickly realizing that Aurora has landed on the palms of her hands, doing a headstand with her legs bouncing off of the top rope. Her feet are catapulted back towards the canvas, and the second they meet with the ring, Robin goes for a surprising leg sweep to the ankles. Rose AGAIN back flips, traveling over Robin’s leg and landing on her feet.

Brooks spins around on her knees in shock just as Aurora dives at her and connects with a front dropkick to the jaw.

Mark: Aurora is one of the most agile wrestlers you’ll see in that ring.

Susie: I don’t think so, Kimberly was FAR more agile. And she looked stunning in that pink ranger costume.

Comeau: Do you have even one braincell remaining in your head?

Susie: I think I killed it sniffing a magic marker earlier. They really shouldn’t make those things smell so delicious.

The dropkick accomplished its task, leaving Brooks grabbing at her jaw and desperately rolling towards her corner. Aurora puts a stop to that, grabbing the locks of her hair, pulling her head back and applying a rear naked choke. She twists and wrenches at the had like it were a lid to a jar she were trying to tear off.

The last thing on Robin’s mind is submitting, prompting her to stand up and power herself backwards into one of the turnbuckles. As a result Aurora is also reared into the corner, her spine hitting it with enough force to break her submission.

Brooks staggers forward, looking relieved that she escaped the Punk Rock Princess’ hold, but puts her satisfaction aside to charge at her victim. She steps in a little too hastily, finding Aurora’s legs wrapped and clamped about her neck. A smile forms on Aurora’s face as she swings out of the corner connecting with a hurricarana.

The grin on her face is well deserved, or so she thinks, because Robin doesn’t go crashing defenselessly into the canvas, instead she drops to the top of her palms and flips forward to her feet.

Mark: Now the former X-Class Champion giving us a demonstration of just how agile she can be.

Moore: These girls should get together and star in one of Max Craven’s movies.

Robin rushes into the ropes and bounces off coming back in an unsuspecting Aurora. Rose doesn’t realize until its too late that her move backfired, turning towards Brooks who lunges into the air, catches her around the neck and connects with a hurricarana of her own.

Rose is launched from her feet and sent flying into the ropes, landing on the middle cable throat first.

Comeau: Robin finally getting in some offense against Aurora, who has been as hard to get hold of as a palm full of water.

The whiplash from the collision with the cable gags Aurora and knocks her to her feet. She is still half in the ring and half out of it, trying to gain some cohesion with her positioning only to have Savior rush across the apron, catch her around the head and deliver a swinging neckbreaker.

The back of Rose’s neck snaps off of the middle rope and sends her ricocheting back to her and back into the arms of Robin. A doubled over Brooks catches Aurora and falls back into a bridging Northern Lights Suplex.

1

2

AWOL enters the ring and kicks the back of Robin’s leg, knocking her feet out from under her. Brooks falls to her seat and eyes the departing legend in anger. She’s not the only one keeping a careful eye on AWOL though, because the Big Crazy Bastard is followed by Kingdom’s gaze as well.

As AWOL slips through the ropes and stands at his side, Johnny makes sure to observe every movement, preparing himself for the slightest flinch.

Comeau: AWOL being a team player. I guess that comes with his extensive military training, having to depend on your comrades just to survive.

Susie: And you always need others to play Candy Land. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still fun to play it by yourself. It’s the best way to spend your Saturday nights.

AWOL acts like he doesn’t know Johnny’s watching him, emphasis on the word “acts.” Brooks makes her distrust for the Big Crazy Bastard a little more obvious, rising to her feet and foolishly spitting in his direction. AWOL doesn’t so much as blink, unaffected by Robin’s feeble attempts to get under his skin.

The apathy leaves Robin a bit perturbed, prompting her to sell her soul by slapping the outstretched hand of one Christian Savior. The two exchange a quick glance before Robin exits the ring and the Rising Phoenix enters.

Comeau: Savior entering the squared circle for the first time in this match, can the Rising Phoenix continue oppressing Rose?

Moore: How dare that honky!

Savior slaps his knee and waits for Aurora to rise. The back of her neck is killing her, leaving her unable to fully stand up. She gets a single knee beneath her when Savior comes charging in and nails a picture perfect shinning wizard. The blow knocks Rose to her spine, Christian crawling into the lateral press.

1

2

Rose launches a shoulder from the canvas, kicking out just a second too soon.

Mark: Shinning Wizard keeps Rose on her back.

Moore: Someone with a penis would make a sex joke right now, but since I don’t have one, last time I checked, it now makes what I’m saying completely irrelevant.

Comeau: Glad I didn’t have to be the one to say it.

With the victimized Aurora trying to sit up, Savior is quickly to slip in, hook one arm and then the jaw. He has a half nelson chin lock established, putting a lot of pressure on the back of Rose’s neck, the focal point of his offense. Aurora slams her heel to the canvas, registering a loud response from the crowd. They rise to their feet, clapping and trying to motivate her to stand up.

The neckbreaker into the ropes makes it difficult to breathe, let alone fight her way out of this. With her body traumatized and her features contorted, Aurora rises to a knee, her body swaying in an attempt to free herself. Christian grits his teeth, flashing his gnarling pearly whites for all to see. They are almost as big and as white as his eyes, which are bulging from their sockets.

Mark: Can Christian keep this half nelson applied, and if so did that neckbreaker do enough damage to earn the submission.

Aurora believes the later portion of Mark’s statement to be inaccurate, continuing to ascend to her feet even while in the clutches of the former World Champion. She stands up, the crowd solidly rallied behind her, when Savior drops to the canvas and pulls Rose over backwards into a half nelson back breaker.

Rose falls to her seat, spine arched and face flushed with agony. AWOL puts a palm over his eyes, shaking his head somberly while Kingdom scratches at the back of his neck, lacking encouraging words. The seated Aurora needs some type of motivation, especially when she’s locked this time in a full nelson by Savior.

That motivation is supplied by the fans, nobody wanting to see her submit to Savior, not even her partners.

Mark: Now Savior putting all the pressure on the neck, and keeping Rose’s arms trapped. A very smart hold by a very conniving individual.

Susie: Christian looks smart. You can tell because he has nice hair.

The fans who at times have heckled Aurora, and other times chanted her name, rise and do so once again. Their words fall on deaf ears however, no impassioned pleas enough to fuel Rose’s desire to push past the pain. She slips further and further into unconscious, Christian coming ever so closer to perhaps one of the biggest wins of his IWC career, and earning it by submission no less.

Johnny feels obligated to raise his palms and slap them together, trying to motivate the crowd to get behind Rose. At the same time Robin covers her ears, pantomiming to the crowd that their reaction is meaningless. Johnson on the other hand dances anxiously on the apron, eager to get back in there and do so more damage to Aurora.

Mark: Is there enough left in Aurora’s tank to fight out of this one?

Moore: Hopefully she hasn’t purged herself yet today by sticking her finger down her throat.

The chants of Aurora’s name reverberate throughout the Manhattan Center, and finally do filter into Aurora’s stressed mind. Her stressed body begins fighting once again to free itself from this full nelson. Christian pushes down on the back of her head with both palms, to the point that her chin almost touches her belly button. But there is an electricity in the air that night, a certain atmosphere that compels Aurora to keep fighting, to keep hanging in there.

The chants reach their crescendo as does the excitement, Aurora reaching her feet only to suffer a tiger suplex by Savior. He hooks both arms behind her back and drops into the bridging suplex, going for yet another pinfall victory.

1

2

Aurora kicks out, falling backwards to her knees in the process. She ends up right over top of Christian’s head, wrapping her arms around his neck and bridging him back up to his feet.

Rose lets out a passionate roar as she gets an unsuspecting Savior into perfect positioning for a high impact maneuver. The scream is silenced once Johnson rushes across the apron, sticks his arm out over the ropes and clotheslines Aurora to the throat.

She is knocked to her back by the lariat, and the energy is knocked out of the sails of the fans. With Aurora ripe for the picking, Johnson demands a tag, Savior all too happy to supply one. He slaps the palm and exits the ring, dropping to the mats where he request a bottle of Avion water and a towel to wipe his sweat away, neither of which is given to him.

Comeau: An illegal lariat by Johnson, but now all the damage he does to Rose will be of the legal variety.

Moore: Well, she’s over eighteen, so now everything Sean does to her will be legal.

Johnson grabs Aurora’s hair, drags her to her feet and slowly spins around into what at first looks like a swinging neck-breaker. Once Aurora’s face is aimed towards the rafters, looking up into the bright lights, Sean turns around and delivers a hard elbow directly to the bridge of her nose.

The blow knocks Aurora to her back, her beauty damaged at the hands of the Griffin. Sean steps behind her then promptly moves in with a boot directly to the back of her targeted neck.

Comeau: Sean picking up right where his partners left off. This team may have gotten off to a shaky start but now they’re starting to gel and work as a cohesive unit.

Moore: So they’re gelling?

Mark: Please God I HATE those damn commercials, so PLEASE don’t repeat them.

Susie: But they’re so cool.

The blows to her body are beginning to take their toll, Aurora all shaken up by the numerous collisions to her neck. Despite the aches and pains, Aurora starts to get up, but Sean puts the kibosh on that by taking her around the neck, bridging her over in reverse and delivering a European Uppercut to the back of her head.

Aurora staggers forward, completely unaware that Johnson is now lunging into the air, catching her around the cranium and delivering a big reverse neckbreaker.

The collision with the canvas sends Aurora popping back to her seat and being treated like a target on a shooting range. The second she pops up, Johnson drills her with a running dropkick to the sternum knocking her right back down.

Comeau: Sean really putting the pressure to Rose. If she doesn’t make a tag in the next few minutes, or gets locked in another hold this match is academic.

Susie: Academic? Sounds scary.

The aggressive Griffin steps to his opponent’s side, pulls down his knee pad and exposed his joint to optimize his upcoming blow. He steps back before lunging into the air, coming down by the point of his knee directly into the CANVAS. Rose somehow rolled out of the way in the nick of time to avoid the knee, causing it to slam with cartilage tearing impact against the ring.

The shockwaves of pain course throughout Sean’s leg, making it especially grueling to rise to his feet. Aurora somehow possesses the strength to stand up at his side before shocking everyone, herself included, by lunging into the air, landing on the back of Sean’s head and hitting him with a fameouser.

The desperation move plants Sean’s face to the canvas and leaves Aurora spread across her spine, trying to build energy. The energy just isn’t coming, in desperate need of a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart, but that’s obviously not gonna happen, at least not in the middle of a match, before maybe.

Comeau: Aurora stunningly hitting a fameouser and that opens just the window she needs to dive through to make a tag.

Moore: I only open the window when I pretend to fart. When you don’t eat you don’t pass actual gas.

The fans clap their hands in another attempt to energize Aurora no matter how futile it may be. They hope their screams will charge Rose’s battery and it seems to be working. AWOL cups his hands on both sides of his mouth and howls at Rose.

AWOL: Come on! Maybe you’re the one who needed replacing.

Kingdom doesn’t correct him, but he doesn’t share in AWOL’s amusement either. Instead his focus is on getting the tag, fingers twiddling above the canvas to entice the crawling Aurora. That’s right she’s now to her knees and elbows, using them to drag her fatigued body towards her corner.

For reasons beyond Kingdom’s logic, Aurora begins to stand up, wasting valuable time by trying to reach her feet. Before either he or AWOL can correct her, a scintillating big boot nails her to the back of the head, delivered by the interfering Savior.

Mark: Christian cheating AGAIN! So much for this guy living the straight and narrow.

Christian exits the ring and grabs the tag rope as the scab referee screams threats in his face. Robin shouts back at the official, telling him that Christian is holding the tag rope, which makes up for his interference. The official disagrees while behind him, Johnson has rushed up behind the laid out Aurora.

He lunges into the air, coming down exposed knee first to the back of Rose’s neck. Aurora goes into convulsions, looking as if she’s just been hit with a jolt from some shock paddles.

Johnson now crawls into the cover, shooting a forearm across Rose’s face in the process.

The scab ref bickers with Robin and Savior to their team’s detriment. Finally the official realizes logic is wasted on the cheaters, turning and spotting the cover.

He drops down and makes the count.

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2

A set of hands grabs the referee’s ankle and pulls him out of position. The official sits up and glares through the ropes at AWOL, so livid he could shoot steam from his ears.

Mark: AWOL once again contributing in a big way, and here I thought he was just out here to receive the bonus. I guess he thinks more main event victories will lead to more main event matches and most importantly, more money.

Moore: Money is fun, except when you smell it.

Kingdom cannot help but to be amused by AWOL’s antics, turning an about face after seeing him give their opponents a taste of their own medicine. In fact, AWOL has made them choke on it.

Sean protests with the official but the scab is entirely focused on AWOL. Behind him Sean lifts his palms into the air, slapping them together to resemble a tag. Savior slips through the ropes immediately and swoops in behind his opponent while Sean exits.

The Rising Phoenix grips Aurora’s hair and almost salivates at the thought of further punishing her. He turns Aurora to her knees and licks his palm before using it to slap her in the cheek.

Mark: Now that’s just uncalled for.

Moore: Now her cheeks gonna be all sticky.

With the referee still arguing with AWOL he is left unaware of Savior’s actions, although there would be nothing he could do about him. What he could put a stop to however, is Aurora stooping to Savior’s level by delivering a low blow to Christian’s genitalia.

Comeau: LOW BLOW right to the balls by Aurora.

Moore: Te-he-he, balls, I love that word.

The swift shot sends Savior into full on shock, looking as if he just stuck a fork in a toaster. He falls to his knees, both hands holding his junk and his face turning bright red. It almost looks as if he’s suffocating, kneeling on the canvas, huffing and puffing.

At his side Rose is dragging her ailing body to its feet, suffering from extreme exhaustion and an incredible amount of pain. Somehow her high threshold allows her to tolerate the anguish, anguish about to exacerbated by Johnson, who rushes across the apron going for a lariat over the top rope.

Aurora ducks it and then flips over backwards, hitting a pele to the back of Johnson’s head. The blow sends Sean staggering forward across the apron, crashing into the exposed turnbuckle post. He twists and spills to the outside mats while his assailant employs the ropes to once again reach her feet.

Robin begins to rush at her only to have Aurora cock back her fist. Brooks squeals and falls to her ass, back peddling immediately while begging off. That’s when Aurora turns around to spot her partners only to see that Christian is forming a wall, blocking her from reaching them.

He may be on his hands and knees, but he poses quite a nuisance. Aurora turns that hindrance into a gain, charging at Savior, stepping off his back and launching herself across the ring. She slaps AWOL’s outstretched palm and the big man quickly enters the ring.

Comeau: The tempo just changed in the Manhattan Center.

Moore: Good, hopefully they turn on the Backstreet Boys.

The Big Crazy Bastard is in and looking to enter with both guns firing. He rushes at the rising Savior who ducks the inbound bicep of his opposition. He avoids the clothesline and takes off across the ring, bouncing from the far cables. AWOL spins around when Christian dives at AWOL, looking for a spear only to have the big man show athleticism by leap frogging the Rising Phoenix.

Christian charges into the opposite ropes after missing the spear, ricocheting off and coming back in at AWOL who turns just in time to connect with a spinning powerslam. The moment that Christian’s back hits the canvas the crowd forgives AWOL for his earlier attack on Craven, lunging out of their seats and bombarding him with cheers.

Mark: Incredible slam by AWOL that may have shattered every bone in Christian’s body.

Susie: Good, then he can be a jelly fish.

After the pinning powerslam AWOL is right back on his feet and diving into the air. He catches some great height and finally collides knee first to Christian’s forehead. The former Champ writhes across the ring while his Big Crazy opponent rises triumphantly to his feet.

He stands up just in time to spot the inbound Robin. Brooks tries to catch AWOL off guard only to have him side step her, catch her stomach and toss her up into the air. She flies much higher than AWOL who catches her on the way down and powers her down into a splash onto Savior.

Both Brooks and Christian roll about, gripping at their damaged body parts, but in AWOL’s mind they haven’t even begun to experience pain yet.

Comeau: AWOL pushing his opponents around in a big way. He’s employing that tremendous strength and he’s incredibly fresh so that helps as well.

Susie: Yeah, if he weren’t fresh he’d have spots and taste horrible.

AWOL spins right into a boot to the ribs, doubling him over in position for Johnson to hook both arms. Sean sets for the pedigree when AWOL stands up, wedging his hands to Johnson’s stomach and throwing him off across the ring. Johnson comes crashing down chest and stomach first into the ring from a great height.

He pops up to his knees when AWOL charges in, unloading with a dreaded running kick directly to the clavicle. Sean collapses to his back and begins gasping desperately for air.

The crowd is stunned by the sheer velocity of the kick that may have shattered the bones in Johnson’s collar bone. With the sound of the strike still echoing throughout the Manhattan Center, AWOL turns and once again finds himself on the receiving end of his opponent’s trademark move.

Savior lunges into the air going for a desperation code breaker. AWOL pulls his head back at the last second and catches Savior by the creases of the knees. Christian crashes to his back with AWOL holding onto his legs and rolling him to his stomach. He steps over his back, applying the liontamer to a huge reaction from the crowd.

Comeau: AWOL thinking quick on his feet, countering all these finisher attempts. This man showing he still deserves to be in that main event slot.

AWOL twists up Savior’s body until it almost snaps in two. Just as Christian looks on the verge of submitting, Robin charges up behind AWOL, catches him around the neck and delivers the bulldog.

AWOL is dragged out of the liontamer and dragged face first into the canvas. He bounces off before rolling to his back where a recovering Robin is quick to lay into him with boots. She capitalizes on this rare opportunity, as does a still gagging Johnson.

Sean hobbles in and starts laying in with the boots, both he and Robin inflicting as much punishment as quickly as possible.

Comeau: The numbers game too much for AWOL.

Susie: Yeah, math overwhelms me too.

Johnny Kingdom watches from the apron, running his shaking fingers over his scalp. Obviously he is emotionally torn as he watches AWOL suffer at the hands of the Black Widow and the Griffin. The World Champion would like nothing more than to watch AWOL suffer after all he put him through in the past, but knows that a victory is on the line. One thing that Kingdom cannot stand is to lose, driving him to swallow his pride and come to the aid of his oldest rival.

Robin is spun around and almost beheaded with a roaring elbow. The jaw cracking velocity of the blow sends Brooks tumbling to her back while Johnny turns and continues taking it to his opponents.

Unfortunately he turns right into a five knuckle shot between the eyes from Johnson. The strike has Kingdom stumbling, trying to plant his feet to remain upright. Johnson quickly rushes backwards into the ropes and bounces off, coming back in at Kingdom and delivering a forearm shot of his own.

The blow sends Johnny staggering backwards into the ropes, bouncing off and then spinning around into another violent roaring elbow. The shot connects with enough force to topple Johnson. This leaves only two men standing in the ring, Kingdom and AWOL, who are quick to come face to face

Mark: Johnny came to the aid of AWOL, but that doesn’t mean it’ll stop the Big Crazy Bastard from fulfilling what he started three years ago.

Susie: I hope it was a diet.

The Manhattanites are pumped at the sight of the former Champion standing opposed to the current Champion, a fact that is not wasted on either man. That’s when Christian delivers a forearm to Johnny’s upper back, knocking him forward into AWOL. The head on crash sends AWOL stumbling into the turnbuckle, falling against it for support.

Johnny on the other hands backs into the waiting arms of the Rising Phoenix. A smiling Savior takes him around the head, going for a reverse face buster. AWOL charges straight out of the corner, going for a lariat to Kingdom’s throat. Johnny knows what he has to do, ducking down as AWOL’s arm meets with its real target, Savior’s throat.

Comeau: A tense situation there, but AWOL continuing to show that he’s a team-player, at least I think he did.

AWOL looks at Kingdom from the corner of his eye, Johnny doing the same before he turns his back on his former adversary. Johnny steps to the ropes, grabs the top one and pulls himself over into a flying crossbody on the rising Johnson and Brooks. He crashes into both individuals, knocking all three of them to the mats.

Mark: Kingdom throwing himself at his opponents, as he and AWOL dominate the competition. The thought of them working together again is almost kind of scary.

Moore: It’s almost as frightening as Ghostbusters.

Aurora pulls herself up into her team’s corner, watching the domination through wide eyes. AWOL doesn’t take time to gawk, he instead rolls to the outside of the ring, right past Aurora and reaches under the squared circle to retrieve a chair.

Comeau: Ummm, AWOL the no disqualification match was earlier, your going to get your team DQed.

Susie: Maybe he really has a thing for chairs, just like Too Magnificent has a big hard one for garbage cans.

Mark: Personally I don’t think AWOL really cares about getting DQed as long as he hurts people until they start pissing blood.

With chair in hand AWOL steps to the apron, fully prepared to use it. That’s when Aurora grabs the steel, briefly preoccupying the Big Crazy Bastard.

Aurora: What are you doing? We’re winning?

AWOL: So?

Rose: You’ll get us disqualified.

AWOL: Meh’, I’ve already earned my paycheck for the night. Now hands off!

From her kneeling base Aurora proves to be quite the hindrance to AWOL and his sadistic desires. She clutches the chair as tightly as a bear-trap. AWOL is desperate to get in the ring with the weapon while the ref is still preoccupied getting control of the chaos on the outside. While Kingdom is on his feet, alternating between shots to both Robin and Johnson, AWOL engulfs Aurora’s face with his palm and shoves her off the apron.

She slips from the apron and goes twisting into the steps, bashing face first against them. The collision is vicious enough to give her a brain aneurism yet AWOL shows no remorse for his injured partner.

Mark: Well AWOL WAS being a team-player up until this point. He may have just screwed over his team by taking out Aurora.

AWOL turns a blind-eye to Aurora and takes no responsibility for his actions. He steps over the ropes and cocks back his chair, ready to use it on a disorientated Savior. Christian is trying his best to stand up, body hurting from bang to toe nail. AWOL ensures that he’s going to earn a fatter paycheck by doing the least amount of work, taking full advantage of the official’s distraction to shatter Savior’s head with his chair.

With the steel gripped in hand, AWOL moves in for the finisher, a grand slam to Savior’s temple. Although the fans would LOVE to see AWOL crack Christian in the head with the chair, they are equally as excited by the unexpected arrival of Axl Evermore.

Comeau: Axl, it’s AXL!

With dried blood caked over his face and a bandage crudely hiding the massive head wound in his scalp, Evermore goes straight after AWOL. The chair changes direction in mid-swing, not coming straight at Axl’s face. Evermore only has seconds to prevent disaster, and makes good with the time he’s given. He ducks the chair and waits for AWOL to be spun around by the momentum of the swing.

AWOL is a tad flustered that the chair missed its victim, and then turns against him. He turns to face Axl, ready to leave him in far worse condition than Psycho. Evermore isn’t about to let himself become a victim yet again, he lunges into the air and nails the chair with a spinning heel kick.

The steel flies back into AWOL’s face, driven into it with incredible velocity. Once again a scab ref finds himself in the middle of a truly perplexing predicament. Should he call for the disqualification, but WAIT, Axl’s the legal man originally slated to compete in this match.

The negligent official turns back around and shouts at the individuals brawling at ringside, pretending that he saw NOTHING. AWOL tumbles to the ring and rolls under the ropes to the mats, adding to the melee outside of the ring.

Brooks and Johnson have overcome Kingdom, bringing him to a knee as they deliver simultaneous clubbing blows to his back. A rattled AWOL staggers into the fray, with Johnson turning and teeing off on his large opponent.

The referee tries to regain some control as the bloodied, weary and in desperate need of a transfusion, Evermore rushes up behind him, hops over his back and catapults himself into a pancha on top of everyone at ringside. All bodies crash into the mats with the most unlikely of suspects ending up on top of them, Evermore.

Comeau: Bloodied, shaken up, and all, Axl still holding absolutely nothing back.

Moore: He’s like a superhero, on their period.

The crowd cannot contain their excitement, adrenaline pumping and their heart beats racing. Despite having a small gash in her forehead, Aurora Rose has recovered enough to begin sliding back into the ring. She crawls painstakingly across the canvas, getting to her feet slowly when out of nowhere Christian connects with the code breaker.

Rose flies back through the ropes and spills to the outside of the ring once again. Christian sits up, holding his spine and looking more intense than ever. All the while Kingdom is re-entering the ring, sliding in under the ropes and out of the pile of bodies at ringside.

He is just starting to stand up when Christian moves in, takes him around the neck and sets up for the diamond cutter. Just before he can connect, Kingdom reaches back, wrapping his hands around the top rope, preventing being hit with the maneuver.

He now wedges his hands to Savior’s spine and shoves him off. Christian staggers forward and spins around just in time for Kingdom to swing his body into another roaring elbow. His forearm connects directly with the face of the man he defeated for the World title.

Savior is almost taken down, just barely possessing the will power to remain on his face. A stunned Kingdom spins around for yet another roaring elbow only to have Christian catch him in mid-swing and deliver the diamond cutter.

Comeau: Christian finally nailing that maneuver and perhaps taking the World Champion completely out of the equation.

Moore: Good, math is too difficult anyway no matter how many crosses they throw in.

Mark: Those are plus signs, Susie.

Johnny lays motionless on his back, eyes fluttering awkwardly as he tries to remain conscious. It’s an uphill battle made more difficult by the stomps being delivered by the Rising Phoenix. It isn’t until Christian spots Axl climbing up onto the apron that he stops delivering his blows to the Team Leader.

A smiling Savior rushes into a far corner and bends forward, preparing himself for the spear on his absent minded opposition. The blood soaked Evermore climbs through the cables, almost falling over now that his burst of adrenaline has been exhausted.

Mark: If Savior nails this spear on an already weakened Evermore, then you can put a fork in this match.

Moore: A fork?

Comeau: It’s something that people use to eat with.

Susie: Ohhh, neat.

Axl falls to his knees once in the ring but doesn’t stay down for long, his heart and mind working as one to will his traumatized body to its feet. He rises just in time for Christian to come barreling across the ring, ready to unload with the dreaded Blaze of Glory. To Savior’s dismay he learns that Axl was playing possum. At the last second Evermore leaps into the air and over the back of Christian, catching him around the waist and pulling him down into a sunset flip.

Almost immediately Axl stands up, hooks both legs around one another and rolls Savior to his stomach in the Texas Cloverleaf. The crowd is standing, wondering if enough damage has been done to Christian to warrant a submission.

Comeau: What a counter by Axl! I didn’t think he still had it in him.

Moore: He’s got a lot in him, including pooh.

Savior pushes himself up onto his palms, roaring at the top of his lungs, ready to utter those two magic words. Evermore anticipates them like a Christian awaiting the rapture. His blood soaked features, pounding head, and fatigued body ache to hear Savior admit defeat.

Just as Christian’s hand raises into the air, fingers twiddling above canvas, Johnson slips in in front of Evermore, hooks the arms of his stooped forward opponent and breaks the cloverleaf by delivering a pedigree. Axl’s crimson smeared face is driven directly into the canvas, his body flipping over to its back in a completely prone state.

Comeau: Johnson saving his team, keeping Christian from tapping out by delivering a pedigree on Evermore for the second week in a row.

Sean crawls into the lateral press, hooking Evermore’s leg for the pinfall, a pinfall he also believes will secure him the Cartel Championship.

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3!

And just like that Sean has pinned the Cartel Cham….noooo, Kingdom dives in out of nowhere, dropping two elbows to the back of Johnson’s head and breaking up the pinfall attempt at the very last conceivable second.

Fans: I-W-C, I-W-C, I-W-C!

Once again the fans find themselves exhilarated by this tremendous, fast paced action.

Mark: Kingdom barely saving his team in what has been a pay-per-view caliber main event.

The crowd is so swept up into the excitement of it all that they barely notice Pat Evans jogging through the curtains and moving stealthily towards the ring, a clipboard in hand. He stops just a few inches removed from Robin Brooks, who has climbed to the apron and is now back flipping off into a moonsault across the sternum of a still laid out AWOL, a man who is not legally competing in this contest any longer.

Evans watches all of this chaos from the ramp, showing little emotion in the process. He observes a flabbergasted Johnson getting to his feet and diving at Kingdom with a forearm. It nails Johnny across the side of the head before Sean now boots him to the ribs, doubling him over. The Griffin hooks both arms, going for another pedigree.

Johnny backs towards the ropes, trying to fight out of the hold. He finds this increasingly difficult when Christian, who rolled to the outside to get out of harm’s way, reaches under the cables and wraps his hands around Kingdom’s ankle, trying to hold him in place.

All is going well for Johnson and Savior before Kingdom stands straight up, back dropping the Griffin over the cables and sending him crashing into the Rising Phoenix. Both men spill to the mats while the crowd slaps the barricade and stomps their feet.

Johnny leans back first against the ropes, unable to pander to his adoring audience. The World Champion looks rather exhausted but puts his fatigue aside to charge at Robin as she enters the ring. He runs right into a superkick to the jaw though, the blow scrambling his brains like they were eggs in a frying pan.

He remains upright just long enough for Brooks to boot him to the ribs and deliver the Spider Bite!

Comeau: And Brooks with a brilliantly times stunner on Kingdom. There is just all kinds of action going on in this match. It’s almost too much to call.

Susie: I don’t think my nipples have ever been this pointy, that’s how you know I’m REALLY excited.

Brooks rises painstakingly to her feet, but ascends nevertheless. Instead of going for a pin where victory would be all but assured Robin shoots her arms out to her sides and begins to shoot her mouth off to the audience. This gives Aurora just enough time to stumble up behind her, take Brooks around the neck, charge at the ropes and spring off into the Sinful Desires.

Robin’s face creams the canvas, sending her body flopping to its back amongst a rousing reaction from the crowd.

Mark: Brooks celebrating a bit too early and suffering for it. Now Aurora's team is back in the driver's seat even after she took that nasty tumble into the steps.

Aurora grabs the bangs of the Black Widow, surprisingly not going for the pin. Instead she seems intent on delivering yet another Sinful Desire. Certainly two modified springboard bulldogs would be enough to quell the fight in the Black Widow. Therefore, without putting much thought into, she blindly charges forward at the ropes only to charge right into the shoulder of SAVIOR!

Comeau: Ohhh, Aurora going for the Sinful Desire only to run right into the spear! She may be puking up her lungs after that last move.

After hitting the spear on Aurora, Rose's body goes limp across the canvas, Robin falling out of the side headlock directly on top of her. Christian rolls out of the way and shouts at the official, demanding that the scab make the count.

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3

The fans may be disheartened to see Aurora take the pinfall, but still scream over the outright excitement of this fast paced encounter. Their adrenaline is pumping after everything that they just witnessed, thrilled by what turned out to be an explosive main event.

Comeau: And thanks to the spear from Savior coupled with Robin's forunate fall, the Black Widow, the Rising Phoenix, and the Griffin have secured themselves a victory here tonight. What an emotional main event this turned out to be. Although I think there may be some controversy as to who the legal participants were and if this pinfall is technicall...

Moore: Technically smeckily.

Mark: That's not argument, your just putting an annoying spin on my words.

Susie: Words, turds.

Kingdom’s breathes are deep and labored, his eyes are fluttering as he tries to remain conscious. After one of the most frantically paced, exhilarating matches of his career, Johnny finds it difficult to even think let alone move. His exhaustion has finally caught up with him, leaving the World Champion incapable of putting a stop to the intruding Evans.

After having observed the madness that consumed the ring in tonight’s main event, Pat Evans now decides to add to it. He slips hesitantly through the ropes and stands back taking one final glance over the bodies strewn everywhere.

Comeau: This might not be good for Kingdom. He’s in no shape for round two, but Evans looks ready for a fight.

Susie: He looks ready for a shower actually.

Evans strolls across the canvas slowly yet confidently. His strut ends at Kingdom’s side, where Pat removes an ink pen from his pocket, bringing it to the dotted line of the contract where he puts his John Hancock.

Mark: Evans signing the contract over Kingdom’s body! I guess he really has sold his soul to Christian Savior over that World Title shot.

Susie: I would have bought it for a Snickers bar.

After all the blows suffered to Kingdom’s brain it doesn’t even register in him what Pat is doing. It isn’t until Evans has finished signing the contract and is now calling for the World Title belt that he tries to respond. Unfortunately his body just has nothing left, no energy to reach its feet. It’s impossible for him to stop Evans from taking hold of the World Title then symbolically dropping it onto Kingdom's bruised sternum. The crowd is booing Evans out of the building but after signing the contract and setting his title match against Kingdom in stone, nothing can kill his buzz. The only person showing him any support is Christian, who watches from his seated base in the corner, dramatically clapping his hands together.

Mark: By virtue of signing that contract Evans makes it official. We’re going to see Pat Evans challenge for the World Title in Las Vegas. Johnny Kingdom vs. Evans with the gold on the line in Sin City.

The crowd continues to express their excitement after what has been a night full of twist, returns, shockers and exhilarating in ring action. But they realize that with Upping the Ante just around the corner, and Evans’ name on the number one contender’s contract, that they haven’t seen anything yet.

FADE TO BLACK