PRODUCTION VALUE

Mark Comeau: Ladies and gentlemen, we are live from the Manhattan Center and what your seeing is the arrival of tonight’s King for a Day, Simon Cagero.

The lavishly dressed, well if you consider wearing a shirt with a tie drawn on it as being lavish, Simon struts with all the confidence in the world. His swagger is well deserved after pulling off the impossible, emerging victorious from one of the most thrilling main events in IWC history. Despite the controversial conclusion to said bout, nothing can take the arrogance out of Simon, not even Exlax. He looks like he’s walking on clouds as he moves through the backstage parking structure.

Unfortunately the nasally voice of Billy Mayne drags him back down to our level.

Billy: Simon, Simon, YAY, YIPPPEEE, WOOHOOO!

An out of breathe Billy tries desperately to catch up to Simon, blowing on a kazoo with all the oxygen left in his exasperated lungs. Cagero doesn’t know why he stopped and chose to acknowledge Billy but he does and immediately regrets doing so.

Simon: Billy, put away your kazoo. If I have to help you put it away you’ll be playing it through a whole nother orifice.

Billy questions what that sentence meant before opting to wisely deposit the kazoo in his pocket. Like a kid who just snorted a dozen pixy sticks Billy once again explodes with elation.

Mayne: YAH! You did it Sim….oh, oh, oh….I mean….BOSS! You won the four way and now you’re the very first King for a Day. The measuring stick for everyone who comes after you.

Cagero: Hmmm, usually when I’m measured it takes a yard stick.

Although Mayne doesn’t get the reference he forces himself to laugh, doing anything and everything to suck up to Cagero. Which is why he has a cone shaped party hat on the top of his head bearing Simon’s initials.

Billy: So Boss, or should I say King, how about your Majesty?

Simon: Any would suffice, just get on with it, your halitosis is killing me. Do you eat Jackson Adams’ shit for dinner or something?

Mayne: Hahahaha, if only Jackson would be so generous.

For the first time in a long time Simon actually finds himself slightly creeped out.

Billy: Now I hate to kill the buzz…..

Simon: Too late.

Mayne: But, I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask you the tough questions everyone in the lockeroom has been demanding answers to.

Cagero: Oh? If this has anything to do with the embarrassing pictures on my webpage of Bob giving Katelyn Buehler a Cleveland Steamer, then I have no com….

Billy: Actually, everyone wants to know what association if any, you have with Christian Savior.

There’s an awkward silence, Simon not answering with words, instead his eyes do all the talking. They don’t so much as blink as Simon stares at Billy for what seems like an eternity.

Simon: Seriously? THAT’S what everyone wants to know about?

Billy shrugs and nods gleefully.

Cagero: Wow…..

Cagero’s head hangs in shame.

Simon: That’s depressing. I haven’t felt this bad since I sat through a whole Pat Evans promo.

It only takes Simon a moment to snap himself out of the short lived funk.

Cagero: Oh well, shouldn’t be too surprised. If Savior is who the roster is talking about then they’re higher than Lindsey Lohan. If they’re that naïve and foolish to ask THESE type of questions then they don’t deserve answers. What people with BRAINS should be worrying about, is what’s going to happen when I cross the threshold and enter THIS truck for the duration of tonight’s telecast.

He motions to the production trailer parked at his side, dozens of cables leading in and out of it, the heart of any IWC show. He starts up the steps towards the door and pulls the latch.

Simon: Just think, Billy, with all the technology and do-dads and fancy gizmos inside of this truck and all at my finger tips, you may just see some of the greatest Adobe photoshop creations EVER! Billy, tell the roster that it’s just about time to get WASTED!

Simon steps through the door and closes it behind him, ready to take the reigns of the IWC in an official capacity.

Mark: Ohhhh joy, Simon Cagero is in the production truck. I don’t know what to expect, because if anything, this night is already looking to be unpredictable.

Susie Moore: I wish I had a crystal ball, or Miss Cleo, or Jonathan Edwards. Won’t someone please give me a credit card and a 1-800 number!?!

OPENING VIDEO PACKAGE

RIOT!

“Falling in the Black,” are the lyrics opening this week’s show. Instead of some high tech, dazzling display of pyrotechnics, the crowd is treated to Christian Savior arriving upon the scene. Before the fans can even collect themselves, still saddened that they didn’t get to see any bright and shinny explosions of color, they’re forced to watch the Rising Phoenix, Rose, and his lawyer all making their way into the ring. Rose hops to the apron then sits on the middle rope, parting the cables for Christian to slide between. She doesn’t extend Dan Douglas’ lawyer the same courtesy, forcing him to awkwardly bend in order to enter.

Mark: Tonight’s show getting off to a truly surprising start. On top of already seeing Simon Cagero entering the production truck, we’ve now got Christian and his entourage entering the ring. All before we could even get through the opening credits.

Susie: I didn’t even get a chance to introduce myself for the fourteenth millionth time. What if the fans forget about me?

Comeau: We can only pray they do.

There seems to be a spring in Savior’s step. Although things went so abysmally bad for him at Upping the Ante, unlike Shawn Michaels, he doesn’t loose his smile. He instead seems to be soaking up the raw hatred from the crowd, knowing that at the very least; his actions at the pay-per-view ate away at each and every one of them.

Christian: You know, this would normally be the portion of the show where I came out here and justify my actions. Where I would go through some long winded explanation for my “misdeeds” at the pay-per-view.

Christian obviously doesn’t agree with the fans when they label his actions as misdeeds, no matter how underhanded they may be.

Savior: But that bores me. I’m tired of having to come out here every week, hold your hands and guide you through the labyrinth of my mind. I’m so sick of trying to get commonsense through those incredibly thick skulls of yours. What does it take to get you people to understand me, to understand why I do the things that I do? Do I have to take a briefcase to your head like I did to Johnny Kingdom and beat logic into you?

Boos ring out through the Manhattan Center, causing Savior to unleash an apathetic sigh. In fact, he’s almost yawning, the crowd’s reaction putting him to sleep. He opens his palm and gestures towards the boring hecklers.

Savior: Yep, there you go, thanks for proving my point. Thanks for another demonstration of how trivial this is. Fuck it, just to hell with it….

He dismisses the crowd with a swipe of his arm.

Christian: I’m not gonna bother, maybe my lawyer can talk some sense into you people. And do so without the need for heavy narcotics and open brain surgery.

The microphone is relinquished to the scrawny attorney, who immediately belts the audience with his nasally voice.

Lawyer: If you people don’t close your mouths this very second, then I will have no problem filing a defamation and slander suit against each and everyone of you…..

The idle threat only makes the crowd louder, vehement in their hatred for all those gathered in the ring. The lawyer may be upset that his words of caution were not taken seriously, deemed as threatening as Gary Coleman in a security uniform, but he pushes onward.

Lawyer: What my client says you need to hear. You should be an unbiased jury; you should deliberate on ALL the facts before you make a verdict. A verdict as to whether or not my client, Christian Savior, is guilty or innocent. Remember, in this great country of ours, a man is innocent until PROVEN guilty.

The fans see no logic in the lawyer’s diatribe, so naturally they are conditioned to start booing once more. The lawyer looks back at Christian, with an expression that seems to ask, “how do you put up with these people?” Savior shrugs in response and the lawyer goes back to what he does best, arguing.

Lawyer: Before you even heard my client’s testimony you labeled him a convict. How dare you prejudge him? If anyone in this building is a convict, it’s Pat Evans!

There are surprisingly quite a few cheers for the former number one contender. Savior is blowing this strange reaction off with a dismissive wave of his palm. Rose is there to comfort him, cupping his ears so that he doesn’t have to listen to the fans.

Lawyer: Evans is GUILTY, he’s a convict for his lawless behavior, such as refusing to abide by the stipulations of his contract. That’s right, at Upping the Ante, Pat Evans was in breach of contract, and everyone in the Hard Rock Café, and everyone watching at home were witnesses.

Mark: What the hell is he rambling about?

Susie: I don’t know, I just imagine that he’s talking about teddy bears. It makes this far more entertaining.

Savior’s proud shyster of a defender carries on unperturbed by the lack of support from the crowd. Unbeknownst to him some tampering is afoot from the production truck. The moment he begins to speak a little quotation bubble is crudely drawn over the screen, leading from his mouth to the words: “I think about Bob in the shower.” Obviously he has no idea what is occurring, continuing to carry on blissfully unaware of the prank being pulled on him.

Lawyer: The contract that Evans willingly signed under no duress has several ironclad clauses that my employer Dan Douglas demanded I include. Clauses such as Christian being able to name the time and the place for his World Title match. Clauses such as being able to pick individuals to sub for him should he be unable to compete, or just because he doesn’t feel like it.

These infinite loopholes have the fans ready to pelt the trio in the ring with garbage. As the terms and conditions of his number one contender’s contract are read aloud, Savior cannot help but to grin over his brilliance. Even he and Rose have no clue that the quotation bubbles are still appearing beside their lawyer’s mouth.

This time one reads: “I was molested by a priest, at age 37.”

Mark: Ummm, it seems that Simon is having a little too much fun with the production equipment backstage.

Susie: Is this the part where I cut lose with my irritating, nerve grating, horrible Michael Cole laughter?

Comeau: That would probably be the only thing to ruin this moment.

The greedy fat cat proceeds with his spiel to a remorseless reaction.

Lawyer: BUT….the most important clause in Savior’s rematch contract states, and I quote this directly from the document itself….In order for Savior to loose his rematch, CHRISTIAN SAVIOR must be pinned or forced to submit. So if either Christian, or any surrogate he uses in his place, get disqualified, counted out, are unable to compete, whatever the circumstance, then CHRISTIAN is still the number one contender.

Mark: This has to be a joke.

Susie: There wasn’t even a punch-line, and if he didn’t say “knock, knock” how could it possibly be a joke?

The only thing that gives the fans the slightest bit of glee, even when hearing about this corporate corruption, are the quotes appearing off to the side of the lawyer’s face. “I listen to Spongebob Squarepants and masturbate,” being the latest Cagero added caption.

Lawyer: Pat Evans knew of these conditions when he signed the contract, and he also knew that Christian could legally take back his World Title shot if ever, and whenever he wishes. When we reminded him of these facts just moments before his World Title match, and ordered that he get himself intentionally disqualified, so that Christian could then himself challenge a wounded Kingdom for the title, he said, and I quote: “No problem.” NO PROBLEM!?! Not only did he purger himself on paper, but he lied in person. When the time came to live up to his side of the deal Evans blatantly REFUSED. He breeched contract, and conducted himself in a fashion unbecoming of an IWC performer.

The reddening flesh on the lawyer’s face demonstrates his conviction, the very type of conviction that a fat paycheck inspires. Savior and Rose nod, Christian enjoying hearing his words come from someone else’s mouth. The puppet master then catches a glimpse of the titantron and the new message written beside the lawyer’s head. The next little dandy reads: “My Cock…” an arrow is drawn from the lawyer’s britches to Rose’s mouth.

Once Savior alerts her of this fact she becomes livid, trying to move in the ring so that the arrow on the titantron is no longer pointed to her lips. Everywhere she goes the arrow follows until finally she stands behind Savior, using him as a shield. All this does is switch the arrow from her lips to Savior’s.

The fans enjoy the crude humor but Christian doesn’t, he only elicits embarrassment from Cagero’s antics.

Lawyer: Which is why on behalf of my clients, a lawsuit is now pending against not only Pat Evans, but Orlando Cruze as well. Under his watch he allowed this travesty to take pla….

Savior: Enough, ENOUGH GOD DAMMIT!

Obviously Savior has had his fill of Simon’s shenanigans. He snatches the microphone away from a shocked lawyer and waves his finger hysterically in the direction of the titantron.

Christian: You think this is cute, Cagero. Huh, HUH!?! Well if you keep this up let’s just say my lips might start flapping, I might start divulging some secrets. Yeah, that’s right, I’ll tell these people you care so much for all the juicy details of our agreement at the pay-per-view. I’ll tell them a little story about what happened when YOU came to ME…..

The fans do not like where this is headed.

Savior: I’ll let them know how selfish Simon Cagero really is. You’re probably even more selfish than Pat Evans and Johnny Kingdom combined. And after you see what I do to those two bitter, SELFISH sycophants, maybe you’ll be a tad bit more cautious about making jokes at our expense……

WAKE UP!

Cagero wasn’t the only person who heard Savior’s scornful comments, a fact Johnny makes obvious as he steps to the stage wiggling his ear. A microphone is gripped in his palm as he struggles to hear over the Manhattan Center rattling reaction.

Johnny: Oooookay, so let me make sure I’m hearing this correctly….

Johnny gestures to an increasingly displeased Savior.

Kingdom: You’ve got a contract with about a billion loopholes, that wouldn’t hold water in any courtroom in the country, yes?

The lawyer is now barking at the Team Leader, furious that Johnny would make such implications.

Johnny: You went through this whole elaborate set-up where you convinced a curtain jerker to face me for the World Title, and then you expected him to willingly get disqualified? And yet we’re supposed to believe that your some type of diabolical genius?

Savior scoffs at Johnny, far more laid back then either of his accomplices.

Kingdom: Lex Luthor you are not Savior. I would say that you share more in common with Bizarro Superman, but even he has a better vernacular than you, and actually shows intelligence from time to time.

Christian continues to remain undaunted by the pacing Team Leader’s scathing comments.

Kingdom: You should seriously have yourself fitted for a protective helmet and water wings if your gonna put your faith in some dingy emo stuck in the Seattle grunge period. Did it ever dawn on you that Evans is so horrible in the ring that I could have easily beat him before he had a chance to get DQed? Wouldn’t that have easily derailed all your master planning? Doesn’t that throw a huge gap in your logic?

Laughter is actually emitting from Savior at this point, finding Johnny’s logic more amusing than intimidating.

Johnny: Stop masquerading Savior, stop hiding your true motivations, stop pretending to be a genius and show these people that all you are is a coward. The reason you put me against Evans is not because you had some complex plan to catch me with my guard down, take my title, and save yourself a whole hell of a lot of work. You arranged this match because your afraid of me, because you know that even on your best day, you couldn’t beat me for my World Championship.

Johnny taps the gold plate of the championship strewn over his shoulder. He fails to realize that it’s all Savior has been staring at since Kingdom came out here.

Kingdom: This has nothing to do with mind games, which let me remind you, Christian, I play a whole lot better than you. This is all about fear. The fear of facing me compels you to hide behind others, whether it be Evans, that lawyer of yours, or that walking canker sore you call a wife.

It isn’t until Johnny brought Rose into the argument that Savior finally lost his cool. With veins ripping almost through his flesh, Savior storms towards the ropes.

Savior: If I ever hear Rose’s name come from your mouth again, I will end you, Johnny. Do you hear me, I will end you.

Johnny: I think you should be more concerned with things going into Rose’s mouth than the words coming out of mine.

A generic “oooohhh” can be heard from the crowd as Rose has to physically restrain the Rising Phoenix in the ring. After a week full of let downs and set backs Christian has finally reached his breaking point.

Savior: You know what Johnny? I have NO problem whatsoever proving you wrong RIGHT NOW.

Johnny crosses his arms and pretends to pout, mocking his rival. In a fit Savior turns towards his lawyer and begins ordering him about as if he were an indentured servant.

Savior: Get me a referee out here!

Rose is begging Savior to reconsider it, but his mind is made up, already removing his shirt and preparing himself competition. Nothing that either Rose or his lawyer says has any type of calming effect on Christian, who tosses his shirt to the canvas in a rage and begs Johnny to enter the ring.

Mark: Wait, am I to understand that what’s going on here is we’re about to see a World Title match between Christian Savior and Johnny Kingdom? Is Savior actually cashing in his World Title match right here live on Riot!?!

Susie: Yaaayyy, I get to pretend to be excited.

It doesn’t take much baiting to bring Kingdom towards the ring. He offers some last minute words of caution that Christian has no intention of heeding to.

Johnny: Sure, why not? I basically have the night off anyway, and the sooner I pin you, the sooner I can go on to face people who actually offer competition.

The microphone is thrown aside, Kingdom’s fingers clinching into a fist as he hops to the apron and enters the ring for an impromptu match that has the crowd salivating.

Referee Chester Princeton barrels towards the ring to make this World Title match official.

Mark: We’re gonna see it Susie…..

Susie: I hope your not about to unzip your pants.

Comeau: Noooo….what we’re about to see is a MONUMENTAL World Title match, Kingdom putting his title on the line against Christian, all in the opening moments of tonight’s Riot!

JOHNNY KINGDOM © VS. CHRISTIAN SAVIOR

Johnny removes the strap from his shoulder, pats the plate one last time then hands it over to the official. Referee Princeton holds the gold above his head as the crowd teems in anticipation of a match they weren’t expecting to see here tonight. Thanks to the stipulations of Savior’s contract though, and Kingdom’s never say quit attitude, they’re being treated to what should be an epic confrontation.

Mark: Never in a million years would I have expected to see this pay-per-view headlining match kick starting tonight’s Riot!

Susie: Wow, this is so much fun. Almost as fun as that plastic slide Ethan had built for me in my backyard. It’s THRILLING!

The bell chimes in the background and the crowd comes unglued. They feast their eyes on this clash of the titans, Savior and Kingdom rushing to the center of the ring and not holding anything back. They immediately begin exchanging shots in front of a rabid audience.

The Lawyer barely has time to lead Rose to safety, who remorsefully leaves her lover behind to wage war with the Team Leader.

Luckily for her, Savior seems to get the better of this initial exchange via a thumb to the eyeball. Johnny grabs at his face, leaving his body prone for a boot to the ribs that has him doubled him. The vengeful Christian connects with a European Uppercut to the jaw of the man who stole his championship.

Johnny staggers backwards into the ropes, bounces off and walks into another boot to the stomach. The Rising Phoenix quickly takes him by the wrist and shoots him off into the cables.

Mark: Irish whip by Christian in this very fast paced opener. Riot! starting off with a bang.

With the crowd screaming Johnny ricochets from the ropes and comes right back in at Savior who ducks down for the background. Johnny leaps right over him, taking the Rising Phoenix around the waist and dragging him down into a sunset flip.

Christian rolls through though, ending up on his feet then leaning forward into the creases of Kingdom’s knees. The Team Leader finds himself compressed, shoulders wedged to the canvas.

Before a count can even be made Johnny grabs Savior around the back of the head, pushing down on it and causing the challenger to flip over. The creases of his knees fall across the top of Kingdom’s shoulders, Savior once again in a sunset flip style pinning predicament.

1

Christian kicks out almost before the first slap of the canvas. He drops over to his feet and lunges at the rising Kingdom, who side steps Savior with mere seconds to spare. What makes this worse for Savior is that Kingdom not only avoids his move but catches him around the arm.

Mark: Are we about to see the Lesson in Leadership?

Moore: How should I know? I’m not a psychic. I don’t even speak with a Jamaican accent, although it be wicked if I could.

Savior falls to a knee, yelping like a dog with its paw caught in a bear-trap. He realizes that if Kingdom falls to his seat and gets this hold clamped on his World Title opportunity would be wasted after so much sacrificing and planning. Rose makes sure his effort is rewarded, hopping to the apron and yelling at the official. She gets his attention just in case Kingdom actually can put Christian in a predicament where he’ll be forced to submit.

Neither Christian nor Rose have to worry about such a possibility, at least not presently, because Kingdom breaks the hold of his own accord in favor of charging at Savior’s long time love.

Rose bails from the apron in the nick of time, avoiding Kingdom’s grubby palms, which reach over the ropes in an attempt to grab her. Christian rushes up behind Johnny at this point, wrapping his arms around his waist and attempting to drop into a backwards roll up for the three count and the title.

As Savior drops back he finds his plan thwarted thanks to the ropes. Johnny wraps his arms around the top rope and pushes off with his back, sending Christian rolling across the canvas with nothing to show for his troubles. He ends up on his feet just as Johnny charges in for the kill.

To the disbelief of everyone in the building, Savior included, Christian lunges into the air and catches the Team Leader with the Code Breaker. Johnny’s face bounces from the knees and his body twists to the canvas.

Mark: Ooooh, oh my God, oh my God, we could have a new Champion already. This would be earth shattering.

Susie: Just like Rosie O’Donald jazzercising.

It looks as if Johnny’s best laid plans have been thwarted and his World Title is about to change possession. Christian takes a moment to convalesce his shoulder which could prove costly. Finally Savior crawls into the cover, the screams of Rose and his lawyer motivating him, driving him to push past the pain and acquire his most valued possession.

1

2

Johnny launches a shoulder from the canvas and the fans launch right out of their seats. It is outright insanity in the Manhattan Center, the crowd not only psyched up by this match, but the fact that its continuing.

Mark: Johnny getting his shoulder up, keeping his title for the time being at least. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for him to bait Savior into this match after that grueling title defense against Evans at Upping the Ante.

Moore: Upping the Ante?

Comeau: Yeeeess, the pay-per-view in Las Vegas? It was only two weeks ago.

Susie: Las Vegas?

Mark: Ugh, the shinny city.

Moore: OH YEAH. Why didn’t you use it’s technical name before?

Savior’s determination to take back the title borders on lunacy as he stands over Kingdom and begins drilling his body with boot after boot. Each stomp brings him closer to gold, closer to achieving his destiny of requiring the title. He finally takes Johnny around the neck, pulls him up to his feet and delivers a jaw rattling forearm strike.

The blow turns Kingdom away, the Team Leader falling to his knees then throat first against the middle rope. An ambitious Savior places both feet on his upper back, actually standing on top of him and shoving Johnny’s throat down into the cable as a result.

The Team Leader gasps for air while the official starts a five count, threatening to disqualify Savior for his actions. As soon as he reaches four, Christian making full use out of the count, Savior springs off the back of his opponent, flies over the ropes and catches Johnny around the back of the head on the way down.

Kingdom’s chin and neck are snapped against the middle rope as a result, Savior landing on the mats with the grace of a feisty feline. The face of the World Champion is bright red, oxygen deprived to his brain for perhaps too long. Despite the weakened condition of the champ, Christian is taking no chances.

He approaches his lawyer and demands that he open the briefcase in his palms. His employee eagerly does so, opening the case and revealing the steel chain inside. Christian takes it out and wraps it around his fist, unconcerned with how blatant it may be.

Mark: Oh come off it, Savior already about to ruin what has been a thrilling impromptu title bout.

Susie: How? All he did was make his fist shinny. That’s never a bad thing.

Savior slides into the ring, slaps the cane wrapped fist against his open palm and anticipates the rise of the Champion. The referee would certainly disqualify or at the very least scold Savior if he knew what was happening, instead his attention is elsewhere. Once again Rose is playing a big factor in this match, standing on the apron and shouting at the official to gain his full and divided attention.

Comeau: Now Rose on the apron, this is going to be nothing short of highway robbery!

Kingdom puts in a valiant struggle to reach his feet but he’s not going to enjoy the fruit of his labors. Christian so eagerly anticipates striking him with the chain, knowing full well that a title change is mere moments from occurring. The thought of celebrating with the belt almost has him foaming at the mouth.

His eyes twinkle with delight as Kingdom finally reaches his feet and sluggishly turns into a shot from the chain.

Mark: Noooo….HEY!

The chain wrapped fist connects with nothing but air, Kingdom stepping out of the way and causing Savior to stumble right past him. A shocked Christian turns right into a boot to the ribs, doubling him over as Kingdom applies a front chancery.

He reaches out, clutching Christian’s tights for the Exodus Finale.

Mark: A HUGE counter! Kingdom about to retain.

Johnny hoists Savior into the air, causing him to drop his chain just before floating over his opponent’s shoulder. Christian lands on his feet behind Kingdom with renewed confidence, looking very proud of himself as he rushes forward to take advantage of their positioning.

He finds himself alarmed when he charges right into a steel chair directly between the eyes. Kingdom’s fist drills him to the face after having gathered up the chain and wrapped it around his knuckles. The official turns just in time to see this flagrant violation of the rules, prompting him to immediately call for the bell.

Mark: The official throwing this match out due to disqualification. What a heart breaker for these Manhattan Center fans.

Susie: I’m heart broken too, but it’s over that episode to Power Rangers where Tommy lost his special Green Ranger powers. I never cried so hard in my life.

Comeau: Well Savior’s going to be crying when he realizes he did not win the World Title here tonight despite busting out all the tricks.

An instinctive roll sends Christian’s unconscious body to the outside of the ring, falling into the clutches of his flabbergasted co-conspirators. The lawyer and Rose catch Savior as he tumbles into them, desperately trying to hold him up. Christian can barely hear or understand words at this point but it doesn’t stop a laughing Johnny from grabbing a microphone and making even more scornful comments.

Johnny: How does it feel, Christian? Huh? How does it feel to have victory in your hands only for some bullshit finish to ruin everything? Don’t you just love it, Savior? Don’t you just adore having your own tactics come back to bite you in the ass.

The crowd now realizes what Kingdom has done, getting over their depression and cheering. They finally understand that Johnny only wanted to make a point to the Rising Phoenix by taking the power out of his hands and taking away his shot at the title tonight. This fact even sinks into Christian’s stubborn brain, despite being off his rocker at the moment.

As he’s lead by his associates around the ring, Johnny climbs up to the turnbuckle, looking down at him from over the ropes.

Kingdom: Oh, and good luck in your X-Class Title match, hahaha.

Not only has Johnny intentionally ruined Christian’s World Title match but he may very well have the same effect on his X-Class Title match as well. Savior will now have to go into that title bout against Jackson in a horrid condition. This fact only makes Johnny smile all that much wider.

Mark: Johnny teaching Savior a lesson here to start off Riot! Doing to Savior what the Rising Phoenix has done to so many else, screwing him out of the title. What an emotional start to tonight’s Riot!

The final image before the show heads backstage is the huge smile on Johnny’s face.

BREAK UP SEX

The reflection of the N.H.B title belt over Katelyn Buehler’s shoulder brings her such joy. In fact it makes her so elated that she begins modeling with it. Her lovely body twists from side to side, obviously liking what she sees in the life size mirror. Her pouty lips even go as far as to move to the glass, kissing the reflection of her newly won title.

Hurse: Your really proud of yourself, huh?

Buehler spins around as quickly as an F5 tornado, but isn’t prepared to be as destructive. She meekly stares into the intimidating features of her ex-love. Although Hurse’s arm may be in a sling, she realizes that given his highly emotional state he could still cause some significant damage to her lovely face. A risk she cannot run.

Buehler: Does the word “duh” mean anything to you?

Antagonizing the unstable Hurse is probably not the smartest of options, but Katelyn cannot help digging the knife a little deeper into his back.

Katelyn: Of course I’m proud, I did something you haven’t been able to for six months, I won a title!

She gestures to the N.H.B Championship but Hurse doesn’t take his eyes off of Katelyn’s face. A face he’d really like to dunk in the toilet right about now.

Hurse: Come off it, you did what you do best, you SCREWED Ethan out of his title.

Buehler doesn’t like the insinuation, beginning to poke Hurse in his injured shoulder.

Buehler: At least screwing him did what you couldn’t, Hurse, it got the job done. It proved that I wasn’t some loser stuck in a rut like you. So what if I bent the rules, if I paid Ingelson in sexual favors to make a three count, if I double crossed you…..

The last dig is almost too much for Hurse to take.

Katelyn: None of it matters, because at the end of the night I proved I wasn’t a loser. And I proved that I wasn’t about to be controlled by Ethan, by you, or by the fans. If that makes me a no good slut, then so be it, I love being a slut.

She pauses for the reaction to echo throughout the corridors of the Manhattan Center, giving her the satisfaction of hearing the fans’ dread.

Hurse: I can’t believe you threw away everything I was offering for some tainted win.

Buehler: I’d rather have that than anything your offering. What do you bring to the table, I mean really? You lose every week, you make an ass out of yourself every time you open your mouth, you still whine over your ex, and you slap me in the face by teaming up with a man who treated me like absolute shit. A man who said time and time again that he wanted to knock my brains out. And yet you went crawling to him, groveling like a dog at his feet. Embarrassing. Humiliation is all you have to offer, Steven.

She twists her finger into Hurse’s bruised shoulder before he finally grabs hold of it and threatens to break it.

Hurse: I was offering you what nobody has ever offered before. I was offering you love….authentic love.

As Katelyn frees her finger she uses it to try and mask her laughter.

Katelyn: Love? Are you joking? The only reason we got together was so you could control me. You didn’t want me, you needed me. You needed someone to fill that void, to stroke your ego, to give you a shoulder to cry on, a pat on the back to burp you, and to make sure you didn’t shit in your huggies.

Hurse: You’ve got things all twisted. You threw away any real chance at happiness over a title, a friggin title!

Katelyn: Uhhh, heelllooo McGrump the Whine Dog….I followed the auto industry’s example, the whole Cash for Clunkers deal. I traded you in and upgraded to a better model. Now I’m part of an elite club, a club that would totally deny you entrance at the door thanks to your tacky clothing.

All Hurse can do is hang his head in shame. Much like Dr. Frankenstein, he feels that he’s unleashed a monster unto the world, one that will wreak havoc on everyone and everything he cares about.

Buehler: But you know, Steven. Maybe seeing you is giving me that whole Nightingale effect. I feel so bad for you, knowing just how worthless you are. So I’ll tell you what, Steven, I’m a generous, smoking sex pot, and you do have a penis, how about for old times sakes you and I get a little nasty. I do enjoy break up sex.

Her forearms are thrown over Hurse’s shoulders, interlocking behind the back of his head. Instead of falling into a deep, self deprecating depression, Hurse pulls away from her alluring touch. He does not even contemplate taking her up on her offer.

Hurse: Losing you almost broke me; it almost put me over the edge…..

Buehler rejoices in having such control over his emotions.

Hurse: But you want to know what brought me back? Well do you?

The smile fades, all the yellow flags in Katelyn’s head being thrown to the field.

Hurse: The thought of making you feel like I do. The desire I have to see you in MISERY!

Katelyn tries to remain confident, her nose shooting towards the heavens.

Buehler: Oooohhh how terrifying, I’m shaking in my little booties. The jobber making threats he can’t back up, OH MY.

She feigns fright.

Hurse: Yeah, okay, I’ve failed….

Katelyn: A lot.

Hurse: But only because I haven’t been properly motivated. Thanks to you, Robin, and the rest of that walking VD clinic called the Brat Pack, that’s all going to change. I am motivated now, I’m motivated to make sure you lose what you stabbed me in the back over. Your not going to hold onto that title for very long, so cherish these precious moments.

Buehler’s stare is blank, her lips quivering slightly, the only indication that she’s taking this threat seriously.

Buehler: So what? No break up sex then?

An abnormally stoic Hurse turns and vacates the dressing room, head shaking all the while. Once the door closes behind his back Buehler just shrugs and turns to begin modeling in front of the mirror once more.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

IWC does not condone John Hughes copyright infringements….this has been a PSA

AWOL VS. HURSE

YOU BETTER GO AWAY

These all too familiar lyrics piping through the PA system gives rise to a Manhattan Center rattling reaction. The crowd watches intently as AWOL steps through the mushroom cloud explosions on the stage and marches like a drone towards the ring. His spirits are still dampened by being forced to compete in an IWC ring, but he still tries to make lemonade out of lemons. Although, there isn’t much upside to facing Hurse, given the lack of competition he’s posed to AWOL in the past. Nevertheless the Big Crazy Bastard starts up the steps to the apron then slips through them, ready to continue his winning streak.

Mark: I think the more we see AWOL, the more apathetic he looks.

Moore: Maybe he should undergo occupational hypnotherapy……what the hell did I just say?

Comeau: I think you were busting out a rare Office Space reference.

Susie: Who put what in the what now?

Mark: Ahhh, working with you really does make me want to set the building on fire. Speaking of fires, AWOL has been smoking since his return, not only besting Max Craven but defeating both Sean Johnson and Too Magnificent at the pay-per-view. He goes for the hat trick here tonight.

Moore: Oh COOL, is he going to pull a bunny out of it?

There is a house in New Orleeeaaannsss
They call the Rissssiiiinngg Sun
It’s been the ruin of plenty a poor boy
And lord I know I’m one….

UHHHHH

A tentative Hurse strolls through the curtains, showing his true cowardice as he glares at the monster in the ring. He tries to buck up his chest and look tough upon embarking towards the squared circle, laser lights flashing obnoxiously over his back. He takes several deep breathes while moving up the ramp and hesitating on the apron, swallowing in an exaggerated fashion. He protects his still injured arm upon slipping through the ropes into the ring.

Mark: From what I understand, Hurse volunteered to face AWOL here tonight, but he looks to be regretting that decision now. Although I don’t think he really has to worry. AWOL isn’t here to indulge his more homicidal impulses, he’s just here for the paycheck.

Susie: So am I, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to buy candy.

Comeau: How insightful. What will be a major cause for concern though, is Hurse’s injured arm. It’s got a huge bullseye drawn on it that AWOL would have to be dense not to target.

The look in Hurse’s eyes make it obvious that he wants no part of AWOL here tonight, injured arm or no injured arm. He lingers in his corner, trying to hide behind the referee as much as humanly possible while the Big Crazy Bastard’s sadistic gaze follows him.

The ever so sadistic war criminal watches like a caged animal desperate for the thrills of a hunt. Dramatic descriptions aside the second the bell rings, AWOL escapes his cage and pounces on his prey. Hurse quickly grabs the referee with his one good arm, pulling the official between himself and AWOL.

Mark: Hurse desperately trying to hide behind the referee. If anyone knows what AWOL is capable of it would be his long time rival and former stable-mate.

Susie: Are you saying that Hurse and AWOL were in a stable together? Jeez, I hope it wasn’t on a stag farm.

AWOL is quick to remove the human barrier, tossing the official aside and then backing Hurse into a corner. The Master of Control is losing control of everything, including his bowels as his spine is wedged against the turnbuckle and AWOL’s hot breathes can be felt on the top of his head.

Tentatively he extends a palm, a gesture of good faith perhaps.

Mark: Ummm, you never stick your hand in the cage of a dangerous animal, Hurse. It’s the same basic principle here.

AWOL stares down at the palm, almost offended that it’s nearing his flesh. He thinks about it for a moment then lunges in with a knee to the ribs of his long time rival, doubling Hurse over. He’s almost coughing up a lung as AWOL hooks one of his arms, charges him out of the corner and throws him into the air.

Hurse catches extreme height before crashing across his back, in a maneuver that all but destroys his kidney region.

Mark: Now we’re seeing as an expression of the rage that consumes AWOL when that bell rings, pushing the apathy aside. But don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean to make him sound like some mindless brute, in actuality he’s a very cold, calculating individual.

Susie: So in other words he’s just like my highschool gym teacher, with less emphasis on the gender ambiguity?

Comeau: Ummm, okay, sure.

Wounded arm and all, Hurse starts to stand, careful to keep his broken wing in sling. He stands up just in time to receive a brain rattling slap to one cheek, which is followed up by an equally as devastating slap to the opposite one. Hurse is staggered backwards into the ropes which he falls against for support.

AWOL steps in, grabs a wrist and whips him off across the ring only for Hurse to perform a surprising counter. With one arm he attempts to reverse the whip only for AWOL to plant his feet, preventing being shot off into the cables. A panic stricken Hurse stares into the Big Crazy Bastard’s eyes, quickly remembering why his opponent earned such a moniker.

AWOL drags Hurse back in for a short arm clothesline only to have the Master of Control duck it. He charges into the cables behind AWOL who spins around and ducks down for a back drop. Hurse stops just short of him and with a well timed kick to the face causes AWOL to stand right back up.

The kick actually has AWOL staggered long enough for Hurse to charge backwards into the cables, bounce off and come back into a devastating spinning powerslam. AWOL drives Hurse to the canvas and drives all the oxygen out of his body.

Comeau: What a career shortening slam. AWOL just having his way with Hurse who is desperately trying to hang in there despite having a severe arm injury.

AWOL shows mercy, hooking Hurse’s leg and attempting to end the match early.

1

2

Such feeble concepts of mercy are thrown aside once Hurse launches a shoulder from the canvas, an act that AWOL takes as an insult. He rises to his feet then lunges into the air, dropping knee first directly into Hurse’s face. The blow sends Hurse’s entire lower body launching up into the air before he now rolls in the direction of the ropes.

Comeau: Hurse desperately trying to create some space between himself and his long time rival.

Moore: I’d be desperate to get away from him too, he looks scary, like Freddy Kruger scary, or Conan O’Brian scary.

Hurse pulls himself up to his knees with the aid of the ropes when AWOL throws a leg over the back of his head. AWOL leans all his weight down onto Hurse who’s throat is pressed to the middle cable, choking the very life out of him.

Referee Chester Princeton starts a five count before AWOL removes his thigh from the back of Hurse’s neck then slips through the cables. He rushes across the apron and delivers a swift kick to the face of his prone opponent. The blow sends Hurse rolling back towards the center of the ring where he convulses like a man just struck by lightning, although AWOL’s kick was probably far more painful.

Mark: AWOL continuing to just have his way with Hurse.

Susie: If their going to be doing that type of thing they really need to invest in a hotel room.

Comeau: Besides the fact that you just completely misconstrued what I said, your response was so horribly derivative.

Moore: Thank you.

Mark: Do you even know what derivative means?

Hurse is ascending back to his feet, trying to get his shaky legs beneath him before AWOL steps in and almost shatters his jaw with a straight uppercut. The official gets on AWOL’s case about using a closed fist but the legend pays him no mind.

He goes right back to the assault, delivering a sternum collapsing knife edge chop. Hurse turns away from his opponent, cradling his chest with his free arm and gasping for air as he falls against the ropes. AWOL now uses his hand to press down on the back of Hurse’s head, wedging his throat against the cable and strangling the life out of him once more.

The official has just begun a five count before AWOL breaks the illegal hold and rushes across the ring. He bounces off of the far cables, comes back in at the prone Hurse and throws his leg at the back of his head.

In a miraculous feat, Hurse clears out of the way and AWOL ends up crotching himself over the top rope.

Mark: Oh dear.

AWOL’s face is frozen by the pain emanating from his genitalia while Hurse rushes into the cables running perpendicular to the ones he’s crotched over. He springs with one hand from the middle rope, twists and nails a dropkick to AWOL’s shoulder.

The blow knocks him over the top rope and to the outside mats where he surprisingly lands on his feet. He takes a moment to readjust his lower extremities before going back on the offensive. This second of distraction is just what Hurse needs as he rushes at the ropes, springs off the middle cable then flies over the perpendicular ropes.

He comes crashing down into AWOL with a splash, the crowd jumping out of their seats as both men spill to the mats.

Mark: Wow! Hurse doing something we don’t see from him very often, going high risk at the expense of further injuring that arm. I guess he’s got to hit AWOL with everything he can though.

Despite that big high risk dive AWOL is already beginning to stir, trying to sit up. Hurse on the other hand has trouble even moving considering the shape his shoulder is in. Nevertheless he pushes past the pain and grabs the apron, dragging himself up to his feet.

AWOL has just gotten a knee before him when Hurse steps in, pops him across the jaw with a closed fist the takes him by the back of the head. AWOL is rolled into the ring under the ropes, finding himself in a position he’s not accustom to, on the defensive.

Hurse climbs to the apron, grabs the top rope and then pulls himself over into a flipping leg drop. His thigh nails AWOL right across the throat, causing both men pain. Hurse fixes his arm in the sling then crawls into the cover, realizing this is his best chance to earn a victory.

1

2

AWOL kicks out, and not only does he kick out, but he actually presses Hurse off of him. Hurse comes down on top of the referee, quickly rolling off though before he can be unintentionally disqualified.

Mark: AWOL’s strength is simply unbelievable.

Moore: He’s just like Doosday, the comic book version, not the lame Smallville version. I bet AWOL could kill Superman any day of the week. All he’d have to do is avoid that dreaded five knuckle shuffle and the FU.

Comeau: Wow, Susie, you just showed a very limited knowledge of wrestling.

Susie: Really? I didn’t mean to.

AWOL rolls to his side, trying to get to his feet when Hurse rushes in and delivers a quick knee to his face. The strike echoes throughout the arena and almost causes the Big Crazy Bastard to tumble over backwards but he doesn’t.

A surprised Hurse rushes into the cables in front of him, bouncing off then charging right back into the clutches of his waiting opponent. AWOL stands up and catches Hurse around the neck and the thigh, setting up for a t-bone suplex.

He lifts him up into the air only for Hurse to counter and counter surprisingly at that. He falls towards the canvas, pulling AWOL over into the small package.

1

AWOL kicks out before the referee’s hand can even finish slapping the canvas the first time. Both the Big Crazy Bastard and the Master of Control race one another to their feet, realizing it could lead to the all important advantage.

They stand at about the same time and Hurse immediately delivers a knife edge chop. The blast sends AWOL stumbling towards the ropes before planting his feet and actually asking for another.

Hurse steps in and goes for a second chop only to have AWOL wedge his hands to his inbound opponent’s stomach and throw him up into the air. Hurse catches tremendous height before AWOL grabs him by the back of the head on the way down and slams his entire body into the canvas with great velocity.

Mark: Hurse’s body introduced to the canvas and it wasn’t a first date either will care to remember.

Susie: I’ve been on dates before, I hate the blind ones though, I can never see what my dates look like with that blasted hood over my head.

Comeau: Why am I not surprised that you once again took something far, FAR too literally.

Hurse bounces up to his knees from the canvas, grabbing at his arm which took the brunt of the punishment. AWOL bounces off of the cables, comes charging in and delivers a straight kick to the already injured shoulder. The blow knocks Hurse to his spine where he writhes across the canvas, desperately trying to protect his swollen shoulder.

Mark: And now AWOL is targeting the arm.

Hurse: AWOL, no, no, please, PLEASE!

AWOL isn’t stopped by the pleas, in fact, they motivate him. He lifts his foot and stomps on the bicep of Hurse’s arm, causing him to roll around on the canvas yelping like a wounded poodle. AWOL continues treating him like his bitch, grabbing Hurse by the wounded arm and pulling it out of the sling.

He extends the arm across the canvas then lunges into the air, coming down knee first right into the shoulder and bicep. A scream so loud you would think it emanated from a pre-teen at a Jonas Brother’s Concert emanates from Hurse, who desperately tries to cradle his arm.

AWOL doesn’t allow this, instead he begins delivering punch after punch to the shoulder socket. He doesn’t cease such brutality until Hurse stops thrashing. Only then does he pull Hurse up to his feet by his wounded arm and then wraps it around the nearby ropes.

He has his arm hooked around the middle cable, pulling back on the wrist and stretching it at a brutal angle. Roar after roar of agony emits from Hurse, the pain almost so excruciating that it renders him unconscious.

Mark: I think Hurse is starting to realize that maybe he should have took some time off instead of entering the ring with a broken arm against this monster.

Moore: Yeah, it’s not like AWOL is one of those friendly monsters like Herman Munster. He doesn’t even have the stitched on scalp, I think.

AWOL steps back and then charges in and delivers a face wash style kick to Hurse’s bicep while it was still wrapped around the middle cable. Hurse pulls his arm into his stomach, cradling it while his opponent picks up the sling that was protecting his injury and tosses it into the crowd. Some fans are grateful for the souvenir, others are enflamed by AWOL’s continued onslaught of an already injured body part.

AWOL returns his focus to the arm, grabbing hold of it, folding it behind Hurse’s back then dragging him up to his feet. He charges Hurse at the turnbuckle and throws him exposed shoulder first into the top pad. Pain reverberates throughout his entire body as Hurse turns and wedges his back to the corner.

It’s at this point that AWOL comes charging in for the kill only to have Hurse launch his foot up into the air.

Just before the boot could connect with jaw, AWOL stops and catches hold of the raised foot. Not only does Hurse find himself with only the use of one arm, but now he finds himself one legged as well.

He hops on a single foot as AWOL drags him out of the corner towards the center of the ring.

Mark: I think at this point Hurse is thoroughly screwed.

Susie: That should make his weekend.

AWOL pushes down on the foot and sends Hurse into a slight spin, his back turning in the Big Crazy Bastard’s direction. He steps forward perhaps looking for the Daisy Cutter or the War Crimes, unfortunately we’ll never find out, because Hurse flips over backwards into the Pele.

His boot meets AWOL directly to the top of the head, causing him to almost black out. He staggers backwards, eyes awkwardly blinking before finally falling against the ropes. Surprisingly the crowd is rallied behind Hurse, swept up by his emotional comeback.

Somehow Hurse continues to hold his own despite his physical short comings. He grabs at the wrist of his injured arm, shaking it in an attempt to regain some feeling. Just as the dexterity returns to Hurse’s hand, AWOL charges out of the ropes and takes him by the wrist.

Hurse is shot off into the cables, bouncing off of them as AWOL begins the pre-emptive spin to connect with another powerslam. He finds himself shocked though when he realizes that Hurse hasn’t charged back into his clutches and is instead grabbing onto the top rope to keep from doing just that.

AWOL’s pre-emptive spin causes him to fall to his back, looking up angrily at his long time rival. It’s at this point that Hurse charges out of the cables only to have AWOL roll towards him, attempting to sweep his legs out from under him.

Hurse is smart enough to jump over AWOL and continue into the cables while the Big Crazy Bastard rushes to his feet. The former World Champion lunges into the air, lands feet first on the middle cable and springs off into a back elbow that connects to AWOL’s sternum.

Mark: Hurse starting to build some momentum once again, trying every trick in the book to keep AWOL’s focus off of his arm.

Susie: Try distracting him with something shinny Hurse, always works for me, or more accurately, on me.

Both competitors roll across the canvas, Hurse getting to his feet in time to catch the inbound AWOL with a jumping knee strike directly to the jaw. The blow echoes throughout the arena and once again leaves AWOL near unconscious yet still standing.

His brain looks rattled in the thick confines of his skull as Hurse delivers a dropkick to the shin. The hard strike brings AWOL down to a knee as Hurse continues exploiting his speed advantage. He stands up and steps over AWOL’s head, lifting his hands into the air and trying to form an “H” symbol with his fingers.

Mark: He’s going for the Sanitizer!

Before he can even begin properly setting for the move, AWOL twists his body, freeing his head in the process and reaching out with both palms. He wedges them to Hurse’s chest and stomach, dead lifting him high above his head upon standing up.

The crowd is amazed by AWOL’s sheer strength as he turns in circles, effortlessly raising Hurse into the military press. Before he can pitch him to the canvas and due irreversible damage to the spine, Hurse slips off of his palms and lands on his feet behind him.

AWOL spins around only to receive a high impact kick to the gut doubling him over and putting him in perfect position for the Lysol Injection. He hooks both of the Big Crazy Bastard’s arms and prepares for the pedigree.

Mark: The Sanitizer not connecting so now Hurse going for that Lysol Injection….who in the hell comes up with the names for his moves?

Susie: Not me, I’d name them something far more prettier, like the unicorn, or the cabbage patch doll.

Hurse cries out in pain as he attempts to use his badly banged up arm to lift his opponent for the pedigree. The adrenaline rush is gone and replaced by the cold harsh reality that his arm is in horrid condition. AWOL takes full advantage of this, standing up and back dropping Hurse right over his head.

The Master of Control once again crashes down from an extreme height, plummeting back first into the canvas. He bridges his spine from the ring until AWOL snatches hold of his wounded arm, uses it to pull him up to his feet and now sets up for his own pedigree. Instead of hitting a version of Hurse’s Lysol Injection, he employs a tiger bomb.

He flips Hurse up into the air and in the same fluid motion twists around his arm. The moment that Hurse’s spine hits the canvas he finds himself trapped in the cross arm breaker. AWOL’s legs are locked around the bicep and shoulders while he wrenches back on the wrist. If his arm wasn’t broken before it’s about to be shattered should he not submit.

Mark: Cross arm breaker by AWOL, the first hold he’s established on that arm may be the last.

Hurse bites his knuckles, not wanting to suffer defeat for the second show in a row. He wants to salvage his credibility, although there would certainly be no shame in loosing to the man currently mangling his injured arm. His desires do not trump his pain however, Hurse’s palm raising into the air on the verge of tapping out.

Mark: We knew this was only a matter of time, Hurse tapping out.

His palm lowers to the canvas and begins slapping it repeatedly.

Mark: And he gives into the pain. We knew it was only a matter of time.

Hurse keeps tapping the canvas while the bell chimes in the background. AWOL’s persistent submission hold appears to be the least of Hurse’s worries though a a boot drills him to the forehead. At the same time a kick also connects with AWOL’s cranium, members of the Brat Pack interjecting themselves in this aftermath.

Mark: What are the Brat Pack doing out here!?! Why are they interjecting themselves after this match?

Susie: I don’t know, maybe they got bored.

The violence continues with Buehler’s foot wedged against Hurse’s face and Jackson dropping to his knees, pummeling AWOL’s forehead via repeated right hands. Miyazaki steps to the apron with a Singapore cane in the palm of her hand, twirling it with an insidious grin on her face.

Comeau: I can only assume that the Brat Pack wanted to attack Hurse while his guard was down and prevent him from making good on his vow to cost Buehler the N.H.B Title tonight. So what better time to strike then when he’s tapping out?

Miyazaki moves quickly, realizing that security could interject at any moment. She tosses the cane to Buehler then grabs the wrist of a defenseless Hurse, stretching his mutilated arm across the canvas. All the while Jackson has a fatigued AWOL propped against the ropes, stomping him over and over again to the chest, trying to keep him subdued.

No matter how much Hurse struggles he just can’t get his arm free from Miyazaki’s clutches, allowing Buehler all the time she needs to savor this moment. She lifts the cane into the air and swings it down directly into Hurse’s already injured bicep, further mangling it.

Mark: Nooo, Katelyn’s going to absolutely cripple her ex.

Susie: It’s okay, Hurse can always get one of those robotic arms like Luke Skywalker.

The cane swings down a second time, connecting with his shoulder. Hurse’s cries fill the arena as the crowd boos Buehler out of the building. She is getting such sick satisfaction out of this assault that she doesn’t even realize that behind her back, AWOL is fighting out from under Jackson’s stomps.

He catches one of Jackson’s feet and begins to rise, Adams already beginning to beg off. Jackson implies that this was nothing personal but AWOL doesn’t buy it. He pushes down on the foot then reaches out, catches Adams by the back of the head, charges him at the ropes and tosses him over the cables.

Mark: AWOL recovering just long enough to take Jackson out!

Miyazaki’s screams alert Buehler to the danger behind her. She spins around and swings the cane directly into AWOL’s upper back. Although the staff may be shattered, AWOL isn’t even affected, not in the slightest by the strike. He turns his emotionless eyes towards a terrified Buehler, who takes this as her cue to high tail it.

She and Miho drop to the canvas and roll under the ropes while AWOL continues watching them through cold, distant eyes.

Mark: AWOL, with just the power of his stare, sending the Brat Pack heading for the hills. They may have just made an enemy out of the last person you want to piss off.

Susie: Maybe they can earn his forgiveness with a jar of head wax.

AWOL does not pursue his assailants; in fact he doesn’t move an inch, barely even breathing. He just watches as they back up the ramp, spouting off about how the Brat Pack’s takeover will continue tonight. All the while stagehands assist Hurse out of the ring, careful not to touch his extremely swollen bicep and tender shoulder.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

The IWC does not condone matricidal rage….this has been a PSA

PSYCHO © VS. SEAN JOHNSON

The show returns from commercial break with AWOL still pacing back and forth, nostrils flared, skin blood red, eyes ever so brazen with hatred.

Mark: Welcome back to what already has been an explosive Riot! And the man who caught some of the shrapnel, AWOL, is still lingering in the ring.

Susie: Heeee’s maaaaaaaad. I can tell cause his nostrils are totally huge right now. I think I can fit my Ford Pinto into one of them.

Comeau: Let’s face it, AWOL has a reason to be mad. Right before the break he was wrestling a great back and forth match with Hurse, and right after his win the Brat Pack struck. I think he was almost traumatized by the sight of Hurse’s ex beating up on him.

Moore: Any man would be overcome by that much boobie.

AWOL continues pacing, chest heaving, head slightly lowered. The apathy seems to be slipping away, replaced by a growing discontent, a rage that he hasn’t felt brewing in his gut for so long. Perhaps in that moment, AWOL realizes just how much he’s missed such feelings. Whatever he’s thinking he sure isn’t about to share it with the crowd, holding no mic and having no motivation to vent his frustrations.

Mark: I wonder if it was unsettling for AWOL to watch someone’s ex pulverizing them? Perhaps that’s another reason he looks so unglued.

Susie: Yeeeahhh, glue, I love glue, especially sniffing it….glue gives me the power to commune with the animal spirits.

Comeau: I bet it does.

Even the shouts of several stagehands and security members isn’t enough to get AWOL to budge from the ring. He’ll leave when he’s damn good and ready to leave, when he’s satisfied, at which rate he may never vacate the squared circle.

Mark: AWOL still refusing to leave, and we have a match scheduled for the Cartel Title here in just a few moments.

Susie: Maybe they can have the match around him somehow.

The quivering voice of the out of shape security guard fails to intimidate AWOL. He just completely ignores the portly official, mind too consumed with flashbacks. His attention returns to his present predicament however, when the lyrics of Sean Johnson’s entrance music explode over the PA system.

Mark: Ummm, you would think Sean had learned his lesson interrupting men ten times bigger than himself.

Susie: You know what they say, the bigger you are, the……bigger your….ummm….uhhhh….tallywacker?

Comeau: Thanks for continuing to be useless. Moving right along though, this is probably not the best time for Johnson to be making his way out here. He should at least know to wait for AWOL to be subdued first.

Susie: Yes, I think security needs a tranquilizer, a muzzle, and some Barry White music. That should get AWOL under control.

The Big Crazy Bastard still refuses to acknowledge the outside party now making his way towards the ring. That’s okay because Sean pretends to be depriving AWOL of his attention. The Griffin struts down the ramp, throwing his arms out to his sides and spinning in a circle, seemingly taking it all in. He wants to absorb every sound, every sight, recording the night he won the Cartel Title to memory.

The number one contender swaggers up the steps and to the apron, head kicked back, face bearing a big smile. He is still showing AWOL not even a shred of focus, as if tuning out his presence. He almost refuses to accept that yet again someone is interfering with his guaranteed title opportunity.

Finally he is forced to acknowledge AWOL upon slipping through the ropes and coming face to fa…..well, sternum, with the Big Crazy Bastard. His lips pucker to make a sound but the word is jammed right back down his throat by a punch to the lips.

Comeau: AWOL just creamed Johnson before he could get so much as a word out! Maybe I should employ the same philosophy against you.

Susie: It’s okay, I have so much collagen in my lips I wouldn’t even feel it.

Sean, unlike Susie, may actually be in need of some cosmetic surgery after that devastating blow. With his lower lip already split open and some claret flowing out of the gash, Sean sits up just in time to be taken into AWOL’s clutches. The stagehands and lone security guard are still pleading with AWOL to come to his senses, but the angered goliath has other intentions, indulging his long suppressed homicidal urges.

He grabs Sean by the back of his head, charges the stunned number one contender across the ring and drives his face into the turnbuckle.

Mark: I would normally bash AWOL for his behavior, but hey, Sean was stupid enough to get in the ring with him, so in a way, he deserves this.

AWOL pulls back on a still stunned Sean’s head and drives his face into the turnbuckle again, and again, and again. He continues to pick up where they left off in that triple threat match, just outright brutalizing the Griffin. Sean is spun around in the corner and nailed with such a sickening knife edge chop that the flesh on his sternum is actually ripped.

Comeau: Good God, what a chop. That could have taken down a redwood.

Susie: Save the trees, cut down a Johnson.

Mark: I think you just made every man watching at home cringe.

After having a knee repeatedly jammed into his ribs, Sean now finds himself choking and gagging for air, desperately trying to get oxygen back into his lungs. AWOL takes him by the throat with both hands, charges him out of the corner and then throws him almost the full length of the ring.

Sean flips completely over, catching some surprising height before finally colliding with the canvas. He grabs at his kidneys, his entire body enflamed with pain, in dire straights, in desperate need of intervention by the security force. The lone guard has no interest in coming to Sean’s salvation, and neither do any of the stagehands gathered at ringside.

NAAAAAH’

The camera not only adds ten pounds but the HD filter seems to bring out Sean’s agony with greater crystal clarity. As Simon Cagero sits in the production trailer, eating some popcorn and chasing it down with a lukewarm frappucino, he’s not only privy to the violence in the ring but seems to be getting some sick enjoyment out of it. Members of the security force stand behind his back, anxious to get their cue and head to the ring.

Security Guard: Sir?

Simon: Hmmmm?

Simon cannot take his eyes off of the wall of monitors assembled before him.

Security Guard: Shouldn’t we be doing something?

Cagero: Ah yes, you can bring me another frappucino.

The nearly empty cup is shook in the concerned guard’s face, who now feels he has to clarify himself.

Security Guard: I mean, shouldn’t we be doing something to help Sean Johnson?

Strangely this is the first time the thought has entered Simon’s head. He pauses a moment to contemplate.

Simon: Huh….hmmmmm…..ehhhh….NAAAAH’. Does anyone really care?

All the shoulders in the room are shrugging.

Cagero: Didn’t think so. Just let AWOL have his fun.

Security Guard: Are you sure?

Cagero: Did I stutter?.....No, really, did I? I’m so jacked up on caffeine right now I can’t tell anymore.

PSYCHO © VS. SEAN JOHNSON CONTINUED

Sean’s broken body is now situated in a seated position against the turnbuckle, AWOL moving on from breaking the torso to shattering the face. He bounces off of the far cables, comes charging in and delivers a face wash on the damn near lifeless body of Sean.

The only thing that tells the audience that Sean is still alive is the convulsions of his body as he falls out of the corner.

Mark: Alright AWOL, I think your statement has been made. Although, for the life of me, I don’t know what his statement is.

AWOL grabs the hair of the severely wounded Johnson, shaking his head towards the audience and informing them that he isn’t finished, not by a long shot. He drags Sean to his feet, throws him into the corner and then delivers a cheek shattering slap to the face.

The eyes of the Griffin have rolled to the back of his head, blood still seeping from his busted lip. The Big Crazy Bastard continues his onslaught, now setting up for the climax. He pushes Sean to the top rope and then climbs up after him.

Comeau: Uh oh, I don’t like where this is going.

Moore: How do you know where it’s going? Are you a psychic? Quick, what number am I thinking of?

Mark: Susie, that’s not a number, it’s a letter.

Susie: You’re amazing! Much better than Miss Cleo.

Johnson has been shaken to his very core, wavering back and forth on the turnbuckle, seconds from crashing to the outside mats. Somehow he still has enough wits about him to lift a knee into AWOL’s jaw, almost cracking it. The blow causes AWOL to loose his footing, falling to the canvas. He lands on the soles of his boots as Sean delivers jabs to the forehead.

The blatant closed fists have AWOL teetering but not yet tumbling to the canvas. A desperate Johnson reaches out and takes the legend by the neck before jumping out of the corner. He swings around for the tornado DDT only to have AWOL pull his head free at the last second and swing around to Sean’s side.

Johnson comes down to the canvas already crouched forward in perfect position for AWOL’s next stroke of genius. He hooks Sean’s arm and quickly drops back into the Daisy Cutter.

Comeau: The DAISY CUTTER! He just busted it out tonight to possibly shorten, if not end Johnson’s career.

Sean flops around on the canvas, reaching for his face which may be completely turned into ground chuck. Clearly after enduring this trauma, there is no way whatsoever that Sean is going to be able to challenge for the Cartel Title tonight. Perhaps this is a fact that AWOL is banking on, furthering speculation amongst the fans that he has some type of hidden agenda with Psycho.

Mark: AWOL leaving Sean in a heap of pain, back possibly broken, and in no shape for a title match. Maybe Johnson will think a little clearer next time before he struts to a ring holding an angered AWOL.

Susie: Yes, at the least he should bring out some type of candy bar, maybe a Baby Ruth, to try and get on this monster’s good side.

AWOL stands over his mangled victim, the tension dissipating from his shoulders, his breathes becoming a bit more controlled. It seems that destroying Sean was just what the doctor ordered, just what AWOL needed, it really hit the spot.

“Soldier Side” conveniently hits the PA system at this point and to the stage steps Psycho. The Sadistic One, lording his Cartel Title over one shoulder, moves towards the ring despite AWOL’s lingering presence. Once again the Big Crazy Bastard fails to even acknowledge the intruding force, even as Psycho is making his way up the steps to the apron. His eyes remain locked on the quivering wreck that is Sean’s body.

Mark: When will these guys wise up? Now Psycho is entering the ring. Did he not just see what AWOL did to Johnson?

Susie: Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he got some mascara in his eyes or something.

Comeau: Psycho doesn’t even wear mascara.

Moore: Well, maybe he should, it would bring out his pupils more.

Psycho gingerly steps over the ropes and into the ring, his pace slowing once he comes within inches of his former mentor. AWOL turns and walks away without another melodramatic, prolonged stare exchanged between mentor and pupil. All Psycho can do is watch in confusion as the Big Crazy Bastard vacates the squared circle.

Mark: Now AWOL is just leaving? And he’s doing so without laying a finger on Psycho to boot? What, if anything, is going on between these two?

Without taking so much as a glance back in the direction of the ring, AWOL moves stoically up the ramp. For the moment he seems to be at peace, having gotten out his frustrations on the careless Johnson. Psycho continues to watch him walking away, looking just as confused as all those packed in the Manhattan Center and all those watching from the backstage area.

Comeau: I’m unclear of AWOL’s motives, or if he even has any, but he’s left Sean a broken bag of bones, and completely at Psycho’s mercy.

The Sadistic One turns towards the badly traumatized Psycho, his body aching from the tips of his toes to the tips of his hair protruding from the scalp. Every inch of him is a depiction of pain. Somehow he starts to will himself up to his elbows and knees, desperate to not allow this Cartel Title opportunity to once again slip through his fingers.

From the backstage area jogs referee Stuart Wright, who slides in across his stomach and immediately comes to Sean’s aid. He inquires again and again if Sean is capable of competing and for reasons that defy logic, Johnson says “yes,” implying that he’s good to go.

Mark: Did Sean just tell the referee that he’s ready to compete? This guy really does have a screw loose.

Susie: Is screw-loose the pornographic version of Foot-Loose, just without all the dancing and a lot more fu….

Comeau: NO!

Sean’s delusional confirmation is all Psycho needs to hear. He tosses the Cartel title, grabs Johnson by the throat and heaves him up to his feet before lifting him into the air and dropping him with the Gonzo Bomb. The double handed chokebomb shatters what remained of Sean’s spine.

Mark: Now Psycho unleashing that dreaded finisher of his, and I hate to say it, but this is academic.

Now it’s Psycho who is shouting in the referee’s face.

Psycho: RING THE BELL, AND MAKE THE COUNT!

With a heavy heart Stuart motions for the bell, officially starting the match then immediately dropping and making the count.

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2

Psycho: No, no, nooooo.

Psycho rises to a knee and yanks on Sean’s bangs, pulling his shoulders off the canvas. The Sadistic One promptly shakes his head in the direction of the referee.

Psycho: He’s not getting off that easily.

Clearly Psycho wants to see further harm come to Johnson and this time he wants to be the one to inflict it. As Sean is dragged to his feet and his near lifeless body is tossed into a corner, the Sadistic One envisions the mask on Poopers’ face, the mockery that was made at his expense.

These memories are what drives Psycho to close in on Johnson, who he gives a sternum collapsing open hand palm strike to. Sean can barely feel anything, given the fact that he’s already in crippling pain, leaving him drooping against the turnbuckle. A slap nails him to the cheek, causing him to stand back upright in the corner and leave him exposed to the rapid fire punches being delivered to both sides of his ribcage.

Psycho: You think you can make a joke out of me, huh? I don’t hear you laughing. Where’s the funny one liners now, Sean? Huh? Let’s hear them!

Another slap further debilitates Johnson, who is held up by the ropes alone.

Mark: For Psycho this match isn’t even about retaining his title. All he wants to do is cripple Johnson over that whole fiasco from a few weeks ago.

Psycho pulls Sean down into a side headlock only to deliver a straight right hand to the top of his head. The strike knocks the Griffin back into the corner, eyes rolling in his head and drool seeping from the cracks of his mouth. The Sadistic One takes hold of his wrist, relishing in the brutality being delivered unto his challenger.

He whips Sean off across the ring only to have Johnson perform a surprising counter. Even while at death’s door, Sean has the wherewithal to spin around and reverse the whip by pulling Psycho into a boot to the ribs, doubling him over.

Johnson barely has the strength to begin hooking both arms, going for the pedigree.

Mark: Check this out, Sean’s actually got enough strength left to go for that pedigree!

Moore: I am checking Sean out. How does he get his legs so shinny? He must shave them a lot.

Psycho has no intention of having an abbreviated title reign. He wedges his hands to the weak Sean’s stomach and shoves him off across the ring, Johnson eventually ending up in another corner. His arms dangle over the cables as Psycho now comes charging only to swallow a boot. The blow knocks the taste out of Psycho’s mouth and knocks him back a few steps.

His eyes flutter as he tries to remain conscious, his dazed condition leaving him exposed to some right hands from the Griffin. Of course there’s not very much on the shots being delivered from Johnson, considering the extreme amount of fatigue his body is suffering.

The blows are effective enough however to leave Psycho staggering.

Mark: I don’t know how this is humanly possible, but Sean is fighting back against Psycho. The Daisy Cutter is enough to debilitate a normal man, but here Johnson is with some fight left in his body.

Moore: My body is fighting me too, feels like my stomach is about to explode. I knew I shouldn’t have eaten that corn flake earlier.

The fans stand behind Johnson, hoping he can not only muster the strength to continue this onslaught but capitalize on it to win the title. Sean goes for another blow only to be captured around the thigh and neck, Psycho dropping back into a release t-bone suplex.

Johnson’s body collides violently with the canvas, causing him to sit up not even possessing the energy to scream.

Mark: Well so much for that.

Psycho steps towards the seated Sean, bends down and delivers a knife edge chop across his throat. The blow knocks Johnson to his spine in perfect position for Psycho who lunges into the air and delivers a big knee drop to the challenger’s face.

Sean rolls around on the canvas, grabbing at his skull with both hands.

Mark: I’m amazed than Johnson even got in any offense whatsoever after the violent nature of that pre-match beat down.

Susie: I knew he could do it. He’s just the little Engine that Could. Only, he doesn’t run on tracks, and he isn’t a locomotive. Although he does release a lot of nauseating fumes.

What little fight remains in Johnson is being knocked from his body by pummeling right hands. Fist after fist drills Sean to his forehead, a welt beginning to form above his eye as a result of these straight blows. Princeton admonishes Psycho’s behavior, threatening to disqualify him.

Psycho doesn’t respond well to threats but he does stop delivering the jabs, for a moment at least. He grabs Sean by the back of the neck, taking him into his clutches like he were a kitten in the jaw of a momma cat. His motives are anything but maternal however as he forces Sean up to his feet and then goozles him by the throat with both hands.

Obviously Psycho is through playing around, he wasn’t to end this and end it emphatically with the Redeemer.

Like a fat kid reaching for a piece of cake, Psycho almost salivates at the thought of destroying Sean’s body with his version of the Gonzo Bomb. Intensity shines in Psycho’s eyes as he hoists Sean into the air. It’s these same intense eyes that Johnson shoots a thumb into.

The blow blinds Psycho enough to drop Sean back to his feet. Johnson swings his arms to remain upright then steps in and connects with a tooth cracking uppercut to the jaw. The Sadistic One now finds himself staggered, trying to swing his arms in a feeble attempt to remain upright.

Sean charges in and delivers a weak lariat to the Champion’s throat, a blow that has Psycho even more rattled. Somehow he remains upright as Sean employs the sparse bit of energy remaining in his tank to bolt at the ropes, ricochet off and charge into another lariat.

An extremely dazed Johnson steps back wide eyed at the sight of Psycho STILL standing. No matter what he does Sean just can’t seem to muster the strength to topple his mighty opposition.

Mark: Sean desperately trying to get himself into this match, but he can’t do that if he can’t take Psycho down.

Susie: I know how you take someone down. Slip a lot of GHB in their drink. Works on me every time.

Comeau: The amount of abortions you’ve probably had has to be staggering. And don’t even get me started on the venereal diseases.

The clotheslines have Psycho dazed but still not off his feet. This prompts Sean to inhale as much oxygen as his bruised lungs will allow before taking off into the ropes a third time. He bounces off and hopes to build enough momentum to finally fall Psycho.

Unfortunately all that momentum carries him right into a jab to the chin that knocks his lights out. Sean falls to the canvas like a ton of bricks, body convulsing as the twisted Psycho hovers above him, eyes gleaming with malice. He licks the ridges of his knuckles, rather enjoying the taste of Johnson’s pain.

Mark: We’ve really seen so much more aggression out of Psycho over the past few months than we’re use to. And not the type of aggression involving tables, chairs, barbwire, and other such overly dramatic forms. All his aggression has come by means of hand to hand combat, using his own body as the ultimate weapon.

Moore: Hmmm, Psycho could be lethal if fired out of a cannon. Can you imagine how much damage all that girth would do?

The shaken Sean tries again to reach his feet, although standing has only led to one bad situation after another. Nevertheless he refuses to learn from his mistakes, already getting a knee under him before Psycho steps in and digs his fingers into the eye sockets of the Griffin.

Psycho cackles with demonic lust as he tries to press Sean’s eyeballs down into the back of his skull, permanently blinding him. The referee desperately tries to pull Psycho off, realizing that he’s on the verge of debilitating the Griffin.

Never one to control his emotions, Psycho turns and shoves the referee away, then transfers his fixation back unto his wounded opponent. He cocks back his fist ready to deliver a brain damaging blow only to feel shooting pains emanating from his crotch.

Psycho’s face goes pale white as he realizes that Sean has got him in the crotch claw.

Mark: Uh-oh, Sean has got hold of Psycho’s family jewels. Are we about to see the first on air sex change?

Moore: If so Psycho and I can be girlfriends, like we can go out and shop and gossip about boys.

Comeau: Psycho would make the most frightening woman ever.

Psycho pivots between feet, doing a piss dance as Sean squeezes his balls until they almost burst. The official finally turns around, recovering from that shove but not until Johnson has broken his grasp on Psycho’s baby makers. The Sadistic One doubles over howling in pain, just long enough for Sean to step over his head, hook both arms then deliver the Extreme Pedigree.

Psycho’s face creams the canvas and his body rolls to it’s back, completely laid out just like the challenger. It took all Sean had left and then some to pull off that pull, his body too heavily fatigued to capitalize on the fruits of his labors though.

He just lays on the canvas gasping desperately for air while Psycho tries to hold onto the last inklings of consciousness. With muscles aching and body possibly suffering internal bleeding, Johnson begins crawling across the canvas.

Mark: A very surprising pedigree connects leaving Psycho plum for the pickings. Now it’s just a matter of Sean making the cover then we could see a new Cartel Champion.

Sean blocks out the trauma that flows through every inch of him before he finally throws his arm across Psycho’s sternum. The referee drops down beginning the count as the fans begin rising to their feet, preemptively celebrating.

1

2

The reaction is almost goosebump inspiring as Psycho launches a shoulder from the canvas, keeping the Cartel Title in his possession.

Comeau: Even after suffering that pedigree, Psycho is still holding onto his title.

Susie: I wouldn’t let it go either. You never know what that crafty title is planning. Could stab you in the back at any second.

Sean sits up on the canvas, balls his fingers into fists and cries out towards the fans. They crowd is coming around, quite moved by the underdog story unveiling before their eyes. They can’t help but to support Sean who keeps fighting despite the crippling nature of his injuries.

He rises to his feet, taking several moments to compensate for each of his damaged muscles. Upon standing he stoops right back over, taking Psycho around the neck. Psycho’s weight creates even more pressure on Sean’s spinal cord as he begins dragging the big man to his feet.

He settles for getting Psycho to his knees before wrapping up both his opponent’s arms. The champ finds his arms trapped under Sean’s leaving him completely defenseless against the headbunts now being delivered. The Griffin drives his forehead again and again and again into Psycho’s chest and neck, doing significant damage to his opponent, and to himself in the process.

It isn’t until the referee reaches a count of four that Sean releases Psycho’s arms, allowing him to spill to the canvas.

Mark: Johnson finally snapping out of it and snapping off a few vicious headbunts in the process. This is exactly what Psycho didn’t want, Johnson getting out of the starting gates.

Susie: My parents didn’t believe in putting a gate around our yard, so when I was a kid they just made me wear one of those shock collars that kept me within a certain distance of our home.

Comeau: Intriguing.

Despite the trauma inflicted to both body and head, Sean still has the courage to begin ascending the nearest turnbuckle. He starts up it then slowly turns to face his laid out opponent, clinching a fist and realizing that he could be seconds away from realizing his dream.

He flies off of the turnbuckle, through the air then eventually crashes knuckle first to Psycho’s forehead. The diving punch connects with enough force to send Psycho tossing to his side palms engulfing his forehead. Once again Sean pulls him to his back and hooks a leg for the three count.

1

2

Just as the crowd is fooled into believing that the title is about to change hands, Psycho ruins the illusion by kicking out.

Mark: Sean once again seconds away from claiming the Cartel Title. What a truly gutsy performance by this man tonight.

Moore: Ewww? So we’re gonna see his intestines then? Is this some sick carny act?

Sean sits up on the canvas, unable to believe that he was seemingly seconds from achieving his goal. Although he’s slightly demoralized Johnson goes back to the drawing board, returning to his feet. Once upright he plants an elbow into Psycho’s sternum, then struggles to his feet and connects with a falling forearm straight across the champ’s forehead.

Psycho convulses on his side, finding himself the one pushing past his pain. Just like Johnson moments ago, Psycho is employing everything in his power to stand upright. He gets to his palms and knees while Sean goes bouncing off into the ropes.

He ricochets off and charges back at Psycho just as the stooped over champ reaches his feet. Johnson lunges into the air, draping his leg across the back of his opponent’s head and planting him right back down face first into the canvas with a famouser.

Mark: Johnson busting out another move we rarely see in that ring. He’s trying to do everything in his power to keep Psycho unbalanced.

The Sadistic One rolls to his back in perfect pinning position, but the challenger isn’t interested in a pinfall. He wants to make absolute sure that Psycho is incapable of kicking out, which is what compels him to start climbing yet another corner.

He reaches the middle rope, desperately inhaling every breathe as he fights exhaustion. There, lying on the canvas, so perfectly placed, is the champion, a champion’s who’s face is once again about to taste Sean’s fist.

Johnson flies off the second rope and comes down right into a raised boot. Psycho just got his foot up in time to drill the Griffin to his face, leaving him discombobulated.

Mark: Sean went to the well too often.

Susie: I’m not allowed near wells anymore, I keep getting trapped in them. It’s not my fault there are all those shinny things at the bottom I can’t reach.

The collision of face with boot sends Johnson staggering backwards into the ropes. He bounces off and stumbles right back into his waiting opponent, Psycho reaching out with his wide palm to engulf his throat. Sean kicks the arm away and then places Psycho in the front chancery before snapping back into a huge DDT.

Psycho’s face creams the canvas and the ricochet effect sends him flipping to his back, once again primly placed for the pin. This time Sean doesn’t chance it, climbing into another lateral press and crossing his fingers as he hopes for the best.

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2

Psycho’s shoulder springs forth from canvas and staves off defeat for yet another day.

Mark: Another kick out from Psycho, who has to be completely caught off guard by this onslaught. I know he wasn’t expecting this much of a challenge out of Sean after what AWOL did to him before the match, but he’s got to get his head out of his ass.

Moore: Yeesh, might need a plunger for that.

Sean refuses to believe that he heard the official correctly, prompting him to crawl into another lateral press.

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2

This pin ends exactly like the last one with Psycho kicking out from under Sean’s body weight. Johnson looks to be in utter despair, quickly realizing that nothing he does can keep the champion down. He refuses to loose hope though, having come thus far, having overcome so many obstacles, he just can’t give up, not when he’s this close.

He takes Psycho’s wrist into his hand and with all his strength pulls the champion up into a front chancery. Psycho is once again on his knees, about to be planted a second time skull first into the canvas, but he isn’t about to let history repeat itself.

He wedges his hands to Sean’s ribs and shoves him off backwards into the ropes. Johnson bounces spine first from the cables then comes charging back at the kneeling Psycho going for a knee strike to his face. The Cartel Title holder is smart enough to raise his palms into the air, blocking the knee from connecting.

He pushes Sean’s leg down to the canvas, causing Johnson to change up his strategy and instead go for the step up enzugari.

Psycho ducks down, once again avoiding Sean who crashes to his stomach as a result. Even this relatively soft landing causes Johnson immense pain.

Mark: Psycho having a number of those moves well scouted. He may be a brute, but he’s a thinking brute. And now Sean’s injuries leave him open for a real shellacking.

Intensity is exuded from every pore of the Champion who grunts and groans upon reaching his feet. Finally he descends upon his challenger, a man who put up a much greater fight than he could have ever expected. Psycho takes him by the wrist and forces Sean’s arm through his legs before trying to hook the other one.

Mark: Wait, wait, is Psycho going for the Daisy Cutter?

Moore: Am I supposed to know? Because the cue cards aren’t giving me any answers. Their just telling me to show more cleavage.

Whether Psycho was intending to perform copyright infringement or not is irrelevant because Sean shuts down his plan by delivering back elbows to his face and sternum. The attempted inverted pumphandle slam is broken up and Psycho is sent reeling towards the center of the ring.

Johnson turns to face him before using the ropes to build some speed then lunging into the air. He lands right on Psycho’s shoulders then unleashes a yelp as he’s dragged down to the canvas via a spine shattering powerbomb.

Comeau: A ring shaking bomb from Psycho! The champ about to retain.

Psycho bends down with his shoulders wedged to the back of Sean’s legs for the pinfall.

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2

Now it’s the challenger who kicks out to an almost heroic response from the crowd.

Mark: I don’t know where Sean is getting this from, but frankly it’s frightening.

Moore: Nowhere near as creepy as Poopers though.

A wide eyed Psycho steps back, the referee informing him once again that Sean did get a shoulder up before the three. Such a decision makes Psycho want to slap the official in his pasty face, but instead he transfers his aggression to the barely conscious Johnson.

Sean is already pulling his fatigued, warped body towards a turnbuckle, instinctively trying to pull himself up the ropes. That’s when Psycho comes rushing in and driving a knee to the back of his head. The blow knocks Sean’s face into the turnbuckle and sends him twisting to his seat. He keeps his spine pressed to the corner, looking up into the closed fists coming down into his face. One punch after another drills him right between the eyes.

Official Princeton tries once more to interject, verbally reprimanding Psycho then getting physically involved. He grabs Psycho’s thick arm only to be shoved off, nearly sent crashing into the canvas. Psycho has lost all semblance of control, insulted that Sean refuses to be nothing more than another stepping stone.

All his rage is channeled into the fists that are disfiguring Sean’s face. Punch after punch after punch is delivered, Psycho swinging wildly with both hands at this point, something having went seriously haywire in his head.

Mark: Psycho has to be careful not to get himself disqualified, we’ve seen it happen so many times in the past thanks to his anger.

Each shot is fed by Psycho’s outrage, his need to cripple the challenger for his insolence. Referee Princeton regrettably commences with a five count and before he knows it he’s shouting the magic number. When Psycho refuses to stop drilling Sean to the face with punches the referee has no other recourse but to call for the bell, concluding this Cartel Title bout.

Mark: And Psycho effectively just pissed it all way. His anger has just led to another disqualification. Although it probably doesn’t matter to him considering that he keeps his Cartel Title.

Susie: If I were the holder of the Cartel Title I’d be trying to get rid of that belt. It’s soooo evil, like Chucky evil, just without all that creepy red hair.

Even with the bell chiming in the background Psycho doesn’t stop delivering the punches to Sean’s face. It isn’t until Psycho spots the referee holding his Cartel Title belt that he stops. Psycho’s malicious gaze transfers to the referee, sending a cold chill up the official’s back. Princeton holds out the Cartel Title like it were an offering, telling the champion to take his belt and get the hell out of the ring.

A warped grin settles over Psycho’s face, realizing that now he’s the one with all the power.

Psycho stands and although he has little warrant to celebrate he raises the Cartel Title high above his head. He is showered in the boos of the audience, the Manhattanites still extremely POed over the manner in which he won the belt and then defended it here tonight. Psycho is unphased by the reaction, the smile on his face unwavering.

Mark: Well, Psycho disqualified here tonight after assaulting an already badly wounded Sean Johnson. He retains his Cartel title in much the same fashion he won it, under very shady circumstances.

Moore: I don’t like the shade, it’s too dark, and I’m afraid of the dark. There are monsters just like Psycho in the dark you know?

Comeau: Is there some type of point to all this rambling?

Susie: I don’t know, I’m not sure I was even trying to make sense.

Mark: There’s a…..HEY WAIT….what the hell?

The fans are literally creaming in their under-shorts as Axl Evermore slides into the ring behind Psycho.

Mark: Where did Axl just come from!?!

Susie: Uranus? Te-he-he, I do love suggestively named planets.

Psycho has no idea what has caused the drastic shift in the reactions of the audience. Instinctively he turns around, assuming the worse, but hoping for the best. The moment that Axl’s little friend, a steel chair, cracks Psycho over the head, it was obvious that the Sadistic One set his hopes too high.

Mark: A brutal chair shot from Evermore, who wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight!

Psycho stumbles and staggers, looking like a drunk man before the chair is once again swung at his cranium. This time Psycho delivers a straight punch to the chair, knocking it out of Axl’s hands and causing the former Cartel Champion to go into a spin.

Mark: I think Axl’s plan just went up in smoke.

Moore: Hehehehe, just like a Cheeh and Chong movie.

It’s not Axl who finds himself in trouble though, it’s Psycho, because the Sadistic One walks right into a boot to the ribs followed by the Fully Loaded stunner. He pops back up to his feet, eyes glazed over, depicting just how lost he is mentally. Somehow he remains upright though, just long enough for Axl to snatch up the chair and swing for the fences.

The steel cracks Psycho right between the eyes, leaving an indentation of his head in the chair. To the astonishment of many, Psycho is STILL on his feet, prompting Evermore to bash him in the skull with the steel once more, and again, and again.

After the fourth cranium splitting chair shot Axl gives up. He throws down the weapon, steps back, contemplates only a second then moves in and drills Psycho to the jaw with a devastating superkick. The blow echoes throughout the arena, even louder than the chair shots and sends Psycho not only tumbling to the canvas but rolling under the ropes to the outside mats.

Mark: Good GOD! What a superkick and deadly assault at the hands of Evermore. Axl was fed up and he wasn’t going to take it anymore.

Susie: That sounds like the plot to every Lifetime movie of the week I’ve ever seen.

Axl is going wild in the ring, ripping off his shirt and throwing it down onto the carcass of Sean Johnson. He now steps across the ring with his music piping in through the loud speakers and climbs the ropes of the nearest turnbuckle, listening to the ear popping reception of the Manhattan Center.

Comeau: Evermore making an unexpected impact by DECIMATING the new Cartel Champion. It seems that the hunted has now become the hunter.

Moore: I hope he doesn’t wear a gay ass lion leotard like Kraven.

A fuming Psycho stands up at ringside, his face as red as the blood he’s forced out of Axl’s head on so many occasions. Instead of entering the ring and trying to get revenge the Sadistic One remains at ringside, the muscles in his face twitching and his grip tightening on the Cartel Title.

Mark: The issue between Psycho and Axl Evermore still unresolved and coming to an implosion here tonight.

REACHING OUT

The malevolent, psychotic, deranged…..these creepy adjectives can really go on all day…..AWOL, stomps through the entrance tunnel. Instead of heading towards the ring, he’s walking away from it, stepping into the gorilla position where he’s ambushed. No, no, not with fists or steel chairs like Psycho, instead he’s bombarded with words.

Hurse: Anthony….

AWOL stops cold, his face contorting to such an extent you would think he just witnessed a clown being sexually assaulted by a midget. His brooding, maniacal….again with the dangling modifiers….eyes transfer to the last person he expected to exchange dialogue with here tonight. Hurse starts towards him, swollen arm in sling, and body still aching from his very physical bout with the Big Crazy Bastard moments ago.

Hurse: Before you go all nutty and do to me what you just did to Sean, all I’m asking is for just a few seconds of your time. I have a proposition for you.

Obviously AWOL is intrigued, seeing as he hasn’t ripped Hurse’s spine out through his mouth yet.

Hurse: I understand your in need of some money.

AWOL continues to keep his homicidal impulses in check long enough to listen.

Hurse: Obviously the Brat Pack got under your skin a little…..

AWOL: Mmmhmmm.

Hurse: And if you hadn’t noticed they did just try to end my career.

AWOL: I hadn’t, nor do I care.

Hurse is undaunted by this statement.

Hurse: Ummm, it seems now that the two of us have common enemies, and since the Brat Pack’s numbers are so huge, and I just recently came into some money, I thought maybe we could…..

AWOL: What? Team up?

Hurse: Well……yeah

AWOL: That’s so amusing I could almost smile. ALMOST.

Hurse: I said I’m willing to pay you, I know that you need the cash….

AWOL: Heh, I’m not a whore like your ex, Steven. And what makes you think I need your help against the Brat Pack?

Hurse scrambles for an answer, yet AWOL isn’t waiting around to hear it.

AWOL: But I’ll tell you what….I’ll think about it.

AWOL walks off, leaving a wounded Hurse to stand alone.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

IWC does not condone Pepe…this has been a PSA

DRESS CODE

Simon: RIDICULOUS, absolutely RIDICULOUS!

Cagero is on the verge of punching one of the tech crew in his snotty little face. The sound effects guy tries his best to shield his pristine features from the clinched knuckle of our illustrious King for a Day.

Cagero: Well you’ve killed it. Yep, there it goes.

Simon lowers his clinched fists to the console featuring an elaborate array of sophisticated sound equipment. Depression now overwhelms his anger.

Cagero: You murdered, and then sodomized any faith I had left in humanity. Look at my face, am I smiling? NO! If I’m not smiling, that means I’m frowning, and frowning gives you wrinkles. This face does not wear blemishes well.

The unfortunate soul suffering Simon’s wrath, doesn’t even know how he should respond to this ranting and raving, or if he’s even expected to.

Tech Guy: I’m…uhhh…ummm, sorry?

Simon: You should be. Amongst all this high tech, million dollar equipment there’s not one, NOT ONE, device that makes a half way descent fart noise. And here I’ve been anxiously sitting all night long in anticipation of hitting someone with the obligatory bottom burp. There were so many wonderful opportunities to do it too, opportunities wasted. How dare you deprive me of one of life’s little joys. What the hell is Dan paying you people anyway? Just get, just get out of my sight.

He dismisses the grateful technician before overlooking the complicated equipment once again.

Cagero: My whole night….RUINED!

Hands are thrown in the air, Simon seemingly giving up after this minor setback.

Riggs: Trust me, it’s about to get a whole lot worse.

Simon shudders at the sound of Riggs’ voice, mind filling with thoughts of tacks embedding his flesh, and slivers of glass being removed by tweezers from his spine. He pictures Hannibal Lector making that obscene slurping noise.

Riggs: What’s wrong, your majesty? You act like you don’t want to see me.

With burdened shoulders Simon looks up at the man who mutilated him at Upping the Ante

Cagero: Truth be told I’d rather stab my eyeballs with a fork than look at that shitty clown paint on your face. But something tells me that just get you all frisky.

The scathing retort leaves Riggs surprisingly jovial, twisted grin remaining on his face.

Simon: Can you wear this over your head the entire time we’re forced to speak?

A brown paper bag is taken out from behind Simon’s chair, opened and offered to the chuckling warrior. These aren’t chuckles of amusement, their the type of chuckles that a hyena releases before lunging at its prey.

Simon: It’s the same bag that Robin Brooks use to make Hurse wear when they were getting FREAKY.

The bag is ripped out of Simon’s hand, balled up into the fists of Riggs then tossed lazily over his shoulder.

Riggs: You were foolish enough to summon me, Simon, so I suggest you get your authoritative jollies out of the way now, because I’m about to take all the power out of your hands.

Riggs’ cracking knuckles are a decisive hint that danger looms just over the horizon.

Simon: Relax….RELAX….jeez, get David Carradine’s asphyxiated corpse out of your ass. Just so happens I did need to see you….

Riggs: Regarding.

Cagero: Pretty much what we’re doing now.

The audacity of Simon wasting Riggs’ time is almost enough to send the Painted Warrior spiraling into madness. Instead of shortening Cagero’s life, he just keeps laughing to himself.

Riggs: Normally, I would leave you disfigured for taking up my time, but my focus isn’t on you or your egotism, it’s on winning a title.

Simon: Yeeeeaahhh, about that…

Simon does his best Bill Lumbergh impersonation.

Cagero: I decided it’s not going to happen.

Riggs digs in his pocket, looking for the first serrated edge he comes across.

Simon: Whoa, whoa, take your hand out of your pocket, this is a family show.

Riggs intensifies his search.

Cagero: Don’t get me wrong, I’m not taking you out of that match. The only person who can do that, is well….YOU.

If it weren’t for his intrigue, Riggs would be shoving a blade in Simon’s throat.

Simon: I’ve decided that you need to lighten up.

Riggs: Have you now?

Cagero: Indeed I have. Your whole rigid, generic, woe is me, I’m just whinny and misunderstood cause my uncle touched my bum shtick has to end……you need to kill that noise.

Noise isn’t what Riggs is interested in killing.

Simon: It needs to stop and stop now, for the sake of my sanity, and for all those people in the audience about to slit their wrists. We don’t want another Jonestown; mass suicides aren’t as fun as they sound. To keep that from happening, I think you need to get with the times, update your wardrobe, stop shopping at a Marilyn Manson garage sale, and quit depressing the hell out of us. So I’ve taken the liberty of beginning your reintegration into mainstream suicide. I bought you this.

From the same space behind his seat Simon now retrieves a sweater vest and khaki pants. Riggs looks upon them like they represent everything he stands against.

Simon: Before you even think about stepping foot into that ring tonight you had better be wearing this, and while your at it, wipe that shit off your face.

A handkerchief is thrown towards an increasingly unstable Painted Warrior. Riggs stares down at the clothes stretched across his arms then up into Simon’s face, imagining all the twisted things he’d like to do to it.

Riggs: Your crazier than I am.

Simon: Either you wear the phrat boy uniform or you lose your title shot. I have SPOKEN!

He turns away in his chair and crosses his arms over his thick sternum. Riggs lingers behind his back, overcome by the arrogance of this week’s King for a Day. Although it be so easy for him to reach out from this position and catch Cagero unaware by his throat, he instead allows his words to do the choking for him.

Riggs: You can take these clothes, and everything they represent, then shove them down your big cankerous mouth. Fuck the title match, and fuck you.

Riggs storms out of the production truck, shockingly leaving Simon behind in one piece. Cagero brushes the sweat off his forehead, relieved that the IWC fans weren’t treated to a repeat of last week.

JACKSON ADAMS © VS. CHRISTIAN SAVIOR ©

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 slightly limping through the curtains. Rose is attached at his hip, trying to keep Savior stable after that nasty blow to the head he suffered earlier in the night.

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

The two continue to proceed down the ramp, Savior holding a welt in his forehead, wearing the wounds of that short but intense World Title bout earlier in the evening.

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

Rose holds the ropes open for Savior, allowing him to slip through. Once in the ring Christian discards both his Tag Team Title belts and throws his arms out to his sides so that Rose can remove his jacket for him.

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

Surprisingly Christian looks as if he’s recovered enough from the assault via that steel chain to compete in what should be another thrilling title bout. He blocks out Rose who is begging him to put his Road to El Dorado on hold for just one week so that he can recover from his injuries.

Mark: Despite what transpired earlier tonight, Christian Savior is still competing for the X-Class Title in a matter of moments. If he weren’t such an utterly repulsive individual I’d commend him for his courage.

Susie: I’ll still compliment him, mostly because his hair is so beautiful it’s hypnotic.

Comeau: Well it may take hypnotism for Savior to beat Jackson Adams tonight, given the role that he’s on after Upping the Ante.

As Savior continues to fight through the trauma to his head he barely notices the lyrics of Fake It by Seether erupting from the PA system. He doesn’t even raise his eyes to acknowledge the X-Class Champion Jackson Adams, joined at the hip by Miho Miyazaki, making their way to the stage. Nor does he spot the microphone in the Champion’s palm.

Mark: Jackson bringing some back up with him to the ring, which might actually be smart all things considered.

Susie: Jackson, smart? PLEASE. He should be shot into space with all the other dumb people.

Comeau: Does the word, hypocrite mean anything to you?

Moore: No, I don’t smoke.

The X-Class Champion makes sure he gets Savior’s undivided attention by yelling into the microphone, his entrance music replaced by his whiney voice.

Jackson: Heeeeeey Chrrrriissstttiiiiaaannn..

The flustered Phoenix raises his head, having had his fill of pointless banter for the evening. Once Adams has got his attention he makes a pouty face.

Adams: Awww, what’s wrong champ, you still pouting cause big bad Kingdom screwed up your title match? Well BUCK UP little guy, and get your mind out of the gutter. The only title match you should be thinking about is the one involving yours truly. “GRADE A” Jackson Adams. THE SPECTACULAR ONE!

Miho endorses Jackson’s arrogance and tries to get the crowd to do so as well. The fans seem more interested in booing rather than feeding Adams’ ego.

Jackson: Plus you might want to pay attention to what I have to say, as it involves a last second change to our match.

Surprisingly Savior heeds the X-Class Champion’s advice, listening and listening closely.

Adams: Oooooh yes, you in some trrroooouuuubbbblllle, you must have really did something to piss off our King for the Day, bad, BAD Christian. You should know better. Anyway, the bottom line is this, Simon is tired of seeing the Tag Team Titles be defended in singles matches, sooooooo, he’s decided to make our match tonight a tag team bout.

Mark: WHAT!?!

Comeau isn’t the only one alarmed by this statement, obvious by the shocked look on Savior’s face.

Jackson: It’ll be Miho and I teaming together against you and…….

Jackson has a blank expression as he looks to the opposite sides of Savior, seeing that he has no back up.

Adams: Oh dear, seems that you don’t have a partner. I guess nobody likes to play with Christian, he’s like the smelly kid in class or something. Anyway, Simon thought this might be an issue, and in the event that such a problem would arise, we’ll just have to go with the back up plan. If you can’t find a partner that makes this a handicap match, ha-ha-ha- oh how I love being me. So on the off chance that you pin either Miho or I, you’ll be X-Class Champion, BUT, when one of us pin you, we’ll be the NEW Tag Team Champions! Oh, and you better get use to this, because if you do win-hahahahaha- this is gonna be the format for each and everyone of your Road to El Dorado matches. God I’m incredible.

The Spectacular Adams throws his title over his shoulder and commences to the ring with Miyazaki joined at his hip.

Mark: Another wrench thrown into Savior’s plans this evening. This really hasn’t been his night at all.

Susie: Maybe he should just find a bed and hide under it, that’s what I always do when I get scared, or when I’m playing hide and seek with Porny Porn.

JACKSON ADAMS © & MIHO MIYAZAKI VS. CHRISTIAN SAVIOR ©

As his opponents near the ring Savior finds himself flipping out, immediately demanding the use of a microphone. Ring announcer Kailey Worf refuses to fork one over, she just shakes her head and crosses her arms.

Kailey: Sorry, but I have strict orders not to allow you on the mic for the rest of the night.

Savior’s eyes are almost bulging from their sockets, steam seconds from shooting out of his ears. It dawns on him that Simon is now doing everything in his power to keep his secrets just that, secrets. This distraction allows Jackson to slip into the ring behind Savior, charge straight at him and deliver a lariat to the back of his head.

Mark: Jackson going right after Savior, capitalizing on his shock. I don’t know if I’m supposed to feel sorry for Savior here or not.

Susie: Don’t you have a heart, Mark? Well, don’t you? I really can’t tell. You won’t let me hook you to these electrodes.

Mark: Susie, those are refrigerator magnets.

The unexpected blow has Savior down on his knees where Jackson repeatedly pummels him with boot after boot. Rose exits the ring in shock, barely getting clear before this action broke out. Meanwhile Miho takes her place in the corner, grabbing the tag rope and pointing to it.

Boot after boot is delivered to the back of Savior’s head, bringing him down to the canvas completely.

Mark: Adams very aggressive in this match. He was just reunited with his title, so the last thing he wants is to lose it again.

Miyazaki claps for Adams as he turns Savior around, wedging his spine to the ropes and engulfs his throat with his palm. The life is being choked out of Christian’s body, his face going blood red. Referee Stuart Wright is there to make a five count, nearing four until Jackson breaks the choke and goes right back to the stomps.

He finally ceases the physical melee by grabbing Christian’s hair and dragging him up to his feet. With his spine still wedged to the ropes Christian finds himself defenseless against the knees repeatedly rammed against his ribcage. Adams turns his back on Savior and snapmares him over seat first to the canvas. He now rushes out of the corner and delivers a dropkick to the back of his neck.

Obviously Savior is in a lot of pain, both from this onslaught by Adams and the attack with that steel chain earlier in the night. He’s all but defenseless against each blow being delivered. Jackson stops with the stomps long enough to start across the ring and tag in his partner, Miho.

Mark: Now we’re about to see that 2 on 1 advantage.

Susie: It’s going to be a like ménage a….oh wait, their all three men, I keep forgetting that. Hmmm, if it’s all men in a threesome do you still call it a ménage-a troi, or just disgusting?

Comeau: Please save your philosophical rants for another time.

Savior is dragged to his feet as Adams chops him across the chest and then Miho chops him to the opposite side of the sternum. These strikes have Christian reeling into the ropes. He falls against them as Jackson and Miho alternate between each-other with forearms and jabs.

It’s obvious by the daze in Savior’s eyes that he can’t take much more of this. His wrists are snatched hold of and he’s whipped by both opponents into the opposite cables. However, when he reaches the ropes he jumps over them, landing on the apron and wrapping his hands about the top rope.

A furious Jackson grabs Miho by the palm and whips her at Savior only to have Christian spring to the top rope and leap frog over he/she. Savior lands on his feet behind Miho as Jackson charges in to take him out with a lariat. Christian ducks the inbound arm, causing the bicep to travel directly into the back of Miyazaki’s head.

Jackson’s anger turns to shock as he realizes that he just laid out his cohort. He promptly spins around as Savior charges into the ropes, ricochets off and comes back in for the spear. Just before he can connect Jackson squeals and instinctively kicks him in the face.

Mark: Savior surprising Jackson there, almost scoring the upset and taking the X-Class Title with a spear.

The boot to the face has Savior all dazed as Jackson now lunges into the air and lays him out with a dropkick that connects right on the button.

Jackson lunges to his feet and starts to showboat.

Jackson: That’s right, it’s not mirage baby, I am this awesome.

Whether he’s awesome or not, Stuart doesn’t care, he jumps all over Adams and demands that he vacate the ring. The X-Class Champion obeys the referee, vacating the ring and leaving Miho to continue the onslaught. Miyazaki picks up right where her partner left off, delivering stomp after stomp to Savior’s sternum.

She now sits down on his chest and begins punching him again and again in the face. It isn’t until the referee gets on his/her case that Miho stops delivering the blatant closed fists.

Rose finds herself panicked on the outside of the ring, not liking the turn this match has taken, and the fact that Christian’s opponents are taking full advantage of his injuries. Miyazaki drags Christian up to his feet by one of his ears and then boots him to the ribs.

She/he grabs one of Savior’s wrist and places a leg across the back of his neck, perhaps looking for the overdrive. That’s when Savior stands up, causing Miyazaki to have to flip over backwards where she/he lands directly on her feet. The tranny ducks an attempted lariat by Savior and hooks his arm in the process.

Miho tugs on it, spinning Savior around and putting him in perfect position for a cutter. Christian pushes Miho off though, taking she/he by the wrist in the process and spinning Miyazaki around before lunging into the air and going for his own cutter.

Miyazaki wraps his/her arms around Savior’s waist and drops into a backwards roll though. Miho ends up seated on the back of Christian’s thighs, compressing his body to the canvas.

1

2

Christian kicks out, launching Miyazaki off into the ropes. He/she lunges into the air at the last second, landing feet first on the middle rope as Christian stands up behind her. Miyazaki springs off into a moonsault that Savior just barely avoids by ducking and charging under him

Miho lands on his/her feet just as Christian bounces off of the ropes in front of her, eyes widening as Savior launches himself into a twisting European Uppercut. The blow knocks Miho’s feet out from under her while the Rising Phoenix rolls across the canvas. He’s desperately trying to get his head straight after the numerous beat downs he’s suffered throughout the night. Mark: Christian with a slight glimmer of hope here. He needs to do something about it though if he wants to keep those tag team titles.

Susie: Maybe I should team up with him, that way I can win a belt and play with it whenever I wanted.

Comeau: If you jump in that ring again I’m not even going to pretend that I’m about to hop in and save you.

Savior starts to stand up when Jackson torpedoes himself at his challenger. Adams should have thought before he leaped though, because he gets caught in a devastating tilt a whirl back breaker. The spine first collision across Christian’s knee leaves Jackson writhing across the canvas.

He ends up on his spine as Christian limps to his feet and turns his back on his wounded opponent. That’s when Miho comes charging in only to be caught with a hip toss that sends her/him crashing spine first directly across Jackson’s mid-section.

Mark: Now Savior is really holding his own in there against two phenomenal athletes.

Susie: And one of them has a penis that we know of.

The aching Adams and an equally as traumatized Miho begin rising to their feet as Savior charges up behind Adams, catching him around the neck with a side headlock. He lunges into the air and at the same time that he lariats Miho, he drags Jackson down face first into the canvas with a bulldog.

Some of the fans are actually cheering for Christian, moved by his performance despite being an underdog.

Mark: Uhhh, am I actually hearing cheers for Savior? I suddenly feel the need to shower.

Susie: Showers scare me, that’s why I just wash myself with a garden hose.

Savior crawls in desperation on top of Miho, hooking his/her leg for the three count.

1

2

Miyazaki kicks out, launching a shoulder clean from the canvas. A distraught Savior gets to his knees and begins pummeling Miho to the face over and over again. He has no idea that Jackson is staggering to his feet behind him. Adams bends down catching Savior around the neck and bridging him back up to his feet before twisting into the Roll of the Dice.

The spinning cutter connects, planting Christian’s face violently against the canvas. The official is once again all over Jackson’s case, demanding that he vacate the ring, which he willingly does. All the while Miho is crawling past the laid out Savior towards a nearby turnbuckle.

She slips through the ropes and starts up the corner to the very top rope. He/she is only on the top of the turnbuckle for a moment before flying off into a frog splash that knocks all the air and wind right out of Christian’s body.

Miho hooks his legs for the three, salivating over each slap of the canvas.

1

2

Savior kicks out to a whirlwind reaction, the fans stunned he had the strength to get a shoulder up.

Mark: We were literally seconds away from crowning new Tag Team Champions but Savior is still hanging in there against these insurmountable odds.

Now Jackson is as irate as ever, his hand outstretched DEMANDING a tag after Miho failed to get the job done. Miyazaki crawls towards their corner and slaps Jackson’s hand, Adams slipping through the ropes and into the ring. He hunches forward in anticipation of Christian reaching his feet.

The worn, withered Christian can only get to his elbows before Jackson comes barreling in and connecting with a stiff knee directly to the temple. The blow renders Savior unconscious upon impact, his already shaken up head taking the full brunt of the punishment.

He falls to the canvas across his back as Jackson promptly drops into the lateral press.

1

2

NO! Savior REFUSES to lose anymore gold. An increasingly agitated Jackson glares at the official before slapping his palms together, insisting that it was a three count.

Mark: Adams coming closer and closer to ending Christian’s Road to El Dorado by taking those Tag Team Titles. It amazes me that Savior has hung in there as long as he has, but I don’t think his resolve will last when taking this type of beating.

Susie: Oh come on, men with a head of hair like that should never loose. I swear, when Savior dies that should put that hair in a museum. No wait, I never go to a museum. Okay, they should put it in a bowling alley.

Despite being unnerved by his opponent’s persistence, Adams remains confident that his numbers advantage will catapult him to success. He takes Savior around the arms, slowly pulling him up to his feet then twisting him around, taking as long as he wants. He almost seems to be toying with Christian who he plants face first into the canvas with the unprettier.

Mark: At this point it looks as if it will be only a matter of time before new tag champions are officially crowned.

Moore: They better make me the same offer that Christian did, I had better be able to come over whenever I want and have a tea party with the title belts.

Savior is completely spent, his body laying motionless across the canvas but Jackson isn’t taking any chances. He slaps Miho’s hand, bringing him/her back into the match then approaching the laid out Christian. The conniving Adams drops to his elbows and knees, Miyazaki stepping up onto his back then flipping off into a twisting moonsault.

Miho connects right across Christian’s ribs then hooks his legs for the pinfall.

1

2

Amazingly he does it again, Christian’s shoulder springing from the ring and leaving Miho in shock.

Jackson shouts for her to clear out of the way then charges in and lunges high into the air. He comes down back first with a senton splash straight across Christian’s ribs, causing him to convulse even more. Official Wright shouts at Jackson to vacate the ring, which is what he does after ordering Miho to go for the pin again.

Miyazaki wedges a forearm into Savior’s face, thinking it will give the pin more leverage. The crowd counts along, realizing that this could be it.

1

2

To the disbelief of Miho, Jackson, the crowd, and even Rose, Savior launches a shoulder from the ring, staving off defeat once again.

Mark: I’m literally beside myself in shock at this point.

Susie: Umm, you still look to be in one piece to me. And heaven forbid there’s actually two of you. Now if I had a twin, it be BEYOND awesome.

Comeau: The thought wakes me up screaming every night.

Jackson puts his thinking cap on, trying to figure out some simple way to finish off Savior once and for all. Finally it dawns on him, he needs even more leverage to end this quickly. Miyazaki continues to work over Savior, delivering repeated jabs to his face before finally lunging into the air and dropping the knee to the bridge of the Rising Phoenix’s nose.

She keeps him subdued while Jackson slips through the ropes to the apron, spotting a dented up steel chair still lying on the outside mats. Needless to say some member of the clean up crew is going to get an earful about not removing the debris from the attack on Psycho just a few moments ago.

The grin that forms on Jackson’s face clues the audience in to his intentions. He drops to the mats and snatches the chair up into his palms, briefly examining the outline of Psycho’s skull in the mangled steel.

Mark: First Savior took a shot with a chain to the head, now he’s about to be laid out with the chair. Again, I find myself strangely unsympathetic.

Susie: Maybe you would sympathize more if you had a hairstyle as elaborate as Savior’s. I bet you don’t even comb your hair.

Comeau: Not really. I just stick my head out the car window on the way to work.

The chair is gripped tightly in Adams’ hands, looking to take the surest path to victory. He’s shouts for Miho to do his/her stuff, Miyazaki stopping the assault upon Savior long enough to get the referee’s intention.

The official at first resists before Miyazaki grabs him by the shirt and forces him to pay attention, shaking him like she were a British nanny and he were a defenseless tot. The referee threatens Miyazaki with disqualification, fully prepared to throw this match out over his/her conduct.

Even though he’s putting his foot down, Jackson is deliberately breaking the rules behind his back. He slips through the ropes into the ring and positively teems with anticipation. The whites of his eyes grow brighter and his teeth become more prominent thanks to his almost hyena-esc laughter.

He stoops and waits for the struggling Christian to get up, Savior not about to like what awaits him. That’s when Rose throws caution aside, jumping to the apron reaching through the ropes and ripping the chair out of Jackson’s hands.

Adams is in mid-swing before he realizes that the steel is no longer in his hands.

Mark: Rose once again getting involved in one of Christian’s matches just like she did earlier. But this time, instead of setting up for the cheap shot, she prevents it. What a quick twist of fate.

Before Adams can even spin around and give Rose a thrashing for her interference, he realizes that Christian is barreling towards him for the spear. This time Jackson counters by side stepping him and throwing the Rising Phoenix off into the ropes, preventing suffering the Blaze of Glory once again.

Christian has just struck the ropes, wrapping his arms around the top one when Jackson unleashes a battlecry and charges at his prey. Savior drops to his back, pulling down on the top rope and low bridging Adams. Jackson’s own momentum carries him over the top rope and sends him flipping to the outside mats where he has a nasty landing.

Comeau: Thanks to Jackson’s over-eagerness, he just took himself right out of this match. This is just the opportunity that Savior needs. Oh God, am I actually getting caught up in this?

After bumping his head on the outside mats Jackson appears barely coherent, unaware of his own surroundings let alone the chaos consuming them. Savior realizes that with this turning into a one on one equation that he has his best chance at victory, perhaps his only chance.

He employs the ropes to drag himself back to his feet, spotting Miho still arguing with the referee. Once Miyazaki realizes that Jackson’s plan backfired, she lets go of the ref and charges at Savior.

She/he has the great misfortune of charging right into a boot to the ribs though, doubling Miyazaki over as Christian takes off into the ropes at her side. He bounces off, comes back in at Miho, catches the cross dresser around the neck and goes for the swinging neckbreaker.

Miho pulls his/her head free though, twists so that their backs are wedged together and then pulls Savior down into a backslide pin.

The official slips into position and makes the count.

1

Savior kicks out, doing exactly as he’s done far too often in this match already. He rolls back and falls to his feet with Miho standing in front of him, only for her to make the same mistake Johnny Kingdom did earlier in the night. She charges into Christian who lunges into the air for the Code Breaker.

This time Savior’s move goes awry however, Miyazaki pushing her off and sending him tumbling spine first into the canvas with nothing to show for his troubles. He bounces off of the ring and sits up, reaching for his kidneys while Miho grabs him by the ankle, pulls up on it and sends him rolling backwards onto his feet.

Miyazaki grabs his wrist and whips him off into the ropes behind her/his back. As Savior bounces off of the cables Miyazaki spins around and the two get the same thought in their head, lunging into the air and connecting with crossbodies.

Savior and Miho crumble to the canvas, all the wind knocked out of their body thanks to the mid-air collision.

Mark: Savior and Miyazaki had the same thought…..

Susie: Christian’s gonna turn his penis into a vagina?

Comeau: Um, no. They went for crossbody blocks but it ended disastrously for both of them. Savior may have derailed any chance he had of winning that X-Class Title.

Oddly enough Miho and Christian continue to share the same thought process, turning towards their corners on instinct and reaching out for a tag. For Savior, he finds his corner empty by virtue of having alienated the entire lockeroom, for Miho, she finds herself without a partner due to Jackson’s self inflicted injury.

They both wince in pain, realizing that despite their crippling anguish they’ll have to continue fighting. Or so that would seem to be the case before a figure pops up at ringside, having briskly jogged to the ring. The fans find themselves rather confused at the sight of Pat Evans, especially as he makes his way up the steps and into Christian’s corner.

Mark: And now things have just gotten even worse somehow for Savior. He sure has pissed off a lot of people and it’s finally coming back to…..hey, wait, what is Evans doing?

Moore: Free puppet show?

Comeau: No, far worse.

Evans grabs the tag rope as deliberately as possible so that the referee notices then reaches over the ropes and slaps the shoulder of an absent minded Savior.

Mark: He just tagged himself in! What is going on here?

Evans remains stoic as he enters the ring and crouches behind a struggling Miho, poised to shock not only her but the world. Christian is in far too much agony and too incredibly dazed by the numerous shots to his head to stop Evans from snatching Miho by the arm the second she reached her feet.

Miyazaki back elbows Evans right to the face, even in his/her groggy condition she knew that she was in for trouble the second that she felt Pat’s grubby palms hook her arm. The blow breaks up Evans’ attempt at the Spinal Tap, sending him into a spin which Miho attempts to capitalize on.

The pre-op tranny rushes right at Evans and lunges into the air, landing on his shoulders for the hurricarana. Just as Miho gets a little confidence, Evans pushes her by the thighs over his head, catches him under the armpits and then throws Miyazaki half way across the ring with the crucifix bomb.

Mark: Evans with a crucifix bomb on Miho! Why is he….what is he…..I don’t get this.

Susie: Maybe he doesn’t believe in elective surgeries.

Every bone in Miho’s body almost snaps upon collision with the canvas, Evans stepping to his/her side and pausing. He takes one long look at a groggy Christian in the corner, Rose trying to alert her man as to what is about to happen. She tries to snap him out of it to prevent Evans’ plan from succeeding.

Pat drops to his knees, wedges his hands to Miho’s chest and the referee makes the count to an explosive reaction from the crowd.

1

2

Mark: Wait, WAAAIIITTT!!!

3!

The roof almost flies off the Manhattan Center as the crowd positively unloads all their emotion. The bell chiming in the background lets them know that this is indeed a reality, that the official has not allowed Evans to become a legal participant in this match but he has counted his pinfall over Miyazaki.

Mark: This is almost surreal! What have we just witnessed? What have we just seen?

Susie: Are you asking me? I wasn’t paying attention either, I was too busy playing with this paperclip.

The crowd continues to rub their eyes and lose their breathe at the sight of Evans snatching the X-Class and Tag Team Title belts out of the referee’s hands. Savior is finally starting to come through, but once he snaps back into reality he wishes that he had remained unconscious

The sound of “Outsider” playing through the PA system clues him into the fact that something horrible has happened, and his eyes confirm as much when they focus on Evans holding all the gold. Pat approaches him, his motives unclear to anyone but himself.

Nobody is sure of what he’ll do next as the technical tyrant crouches down in front of Savior, throwing him the X-Class and one of the Tag Titles, emphasis on the word “one.” He keeps the other gently nestled over his shoulder.

Christian’s face goes as white as a ghost as it all becomes clear to him now. It finally dawns on him that he and Evans are now the CO-HOLDERS of the IWC Tag Team Titles. He immediately begins shaking his head, pleading against this injustice. All Evans does as a result is smile, producing a grin that makes Christian and Rose all the more unsettled.

Evans: Looks like you finally did give something back, Christian, even though I had to TAKE it.

These chilling words cause Christian’s stomach to churn with even greater discomfort. He’s absolutely powerless to do anything about this cruel turn of events, considering that even trying to get the decision overturned would risk losing his newly acquired X-Class Title belt.

But where he is powerless to protest, Jackson isn’t. A recovered Adams is already back in the ring reading the ref the riot act. In between gripping at the knot on the back of his head he demands to know how this could be legal, considering that he lost the title when he wasn’t even pinned, and against someone who wasn’t even supposed to be in the match.

Mark: I dare say that nothing has turned out how Savior nor Adams had envisioned it tonight. Sure Savior may have just won the X-Class Title, but there’s a trade off, because now he has to hold the Tag Team Titles alongside Pat Evans. Why did Evans do this? Is he trying to get into Christian’s head, is he trying to ruin his Road to El Dorado quest?

Susie: Maybe he was just bored.

With the sound of Jackson gripping and the lyrics of Outsider playing in the background an utterly terrified Christian is forced to watch Pat backing up the ramp with one of the Tag Team Titles draped over his shoulder. The sight of the horror in Christian’s eyes makes this all the more enjoyable for Evans.

Mark: Another stunning occurrence here on Riot! Which seems to be the trend on tonight’s telecast. We have a new X-Class Champion….and…ummm….a new Tag Team Champion. What else can we expect to see here this evening?

Moore: Fluffy pink bunnies?

Comeau: I highly doubt it.

Susie: A girl can dream.

Comeau: This whole night has been like a dream, or more accurately, a nightmare for the competitors in the ring, in particular Jackson Adams and Christia…..I understand now that the chaos is continuing, we have something going on backstage.

The final images in the ring are of Adams digging his finger into the official’s chest and threatening to lay him out just like the last referee who tried to screw him out of the X-Class Title. He briefly turns his wrath to a recovering and already apologetic Miyazaki.

SINFUL STRATEGY

Robin: Hold him down, HOLD HIM DOWN!

The sheer numbers of the Brat Pack once again prove crippling, this time for Max Craven. His match for the Submission Title has come early, but his chances of victory are reduced to a slim margin by means of a backstage assault. Katie Steward, Autumn Daniels, Paris Dannon, Katelyn Buehler, and Robin Brooks are all blissfully unaware of what just happened to their cohorts in the ring, far too preoccupied with removing the final hurdle facing the Black Widow tonight.

Buehler: Grab him….not THERE perv!

Katelyn’s boots stomp the fight out of Max’s body, finding himself sprawled across the concrete, victimized by this estrogen fueled army. Although it’s probably been a long time fantasy of Craven to be in this type of dog pile this is proving to be more and more like a nightmare.

He tries to get up only to have Autumn grab and subdue one arm, while Paris snatches hold of the other. He finds himself completely prone to the chuckling Black Widow. Robin snatches him around the chin, lifting up on his face so that he can see the malice in her eyes and the insulting smirk on his face.

Robin: Soooo, you were gonna avenge your partner tonight, huh, Mister Stiffygo Maxtoya? Doesn’t look like that’s going to happen now, does it?

Craven thrashes violently in an attempt to get free. He mumbles obscenities under his breathe, perhaps swearing vengeance on the Black Widow, it’s unsure what he’s saying given how tightly Robin squeezes his face.

Brooks: You should stop while you’re ahead Max. Don’t make us do something we’ll regret. I’m not defending my title tonight; you’re just going to have to accept that. With Riggs refusing to conform that leaves YOU as my last obstacle in that triple threat. So you can either, A) step aside willingly, or B) have the Brat Pack dismantle you. Either way, you’re not getting to that ring, and you’re not challenging me for this title. Understood?

She gestures down the corridor leading to the ring and then to the title over her shoulder, employing it as a visual aid to make her point. She finally shuts up long enough for Max to think, weighing both options, or at the very least pretending to.

Max: Well…..let’s see….

The rage that was clouding his judgment dissipates and allows for logic.

Craven: I either walk away peacefully, right?

Robin nods eagerly, obviously that’s her favorite choice, considering it involves the least amount of work.

Max: Or the Brat Pack kicks the ever living shit out of me. Am I following you correctly?

Katie: Of course you are, now stop stalling!

The back of her hand meets Max’s cheek, which seems to make up his mind for him.

Craven: While I would just love not to have a ventilator doing my breathing for me, I think I’ll go with the third option.

Robin: There is no third option.

Max: Of course there is, you just overlooked it.

Brooks rolls her eyes and plays along.

Craven: The option where I flex and bust out of the grips of all you bitches.

A roar of primal aggression tears through the backstage corridor as Craven employs almost superhuman strength to break free of the Brat Pack’s clutches. Robin looks as if she just swallowed a toad as Max charges shoulder first right into her ribs, picking her up and charging her at the ring.

Robin: DO SOMETHING!

Brooks’ loud pitched pleas finally snaps the Brat Pack out of their momentary shock and into action. They go chasing off after Craven and the abducted Black Widow.

Mark: Max making sure that the match does go down tonight whether Robin wants it to or not. But how is he going to contend with the entire Brat Pack? Stay tuned in and we’ll find out.

Susie: ALRIGHT commercials, I hope they advertise Shamwow.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

We don’t condone Moppy either…..this has been a PSA

ROBIN BROOKS © VS. MAX CRAVEN

The show returns right in the midst of chaos; would you expect anything less?

Mark: We’re back on Riot! and the brawl backstage has spilt out onto the rampway.

Somehow Max is able to hold his own against the Brat Pack members, who had lulled themselves into a false sense of security, thinking Craven didn’t have this type of fight in him. His fists connect with a stunned Robin’s jaw, staggering her down the rampway from the stage. He turns to briefly deliver shots on a stunned Buehler and Paris, Autumn and Katie standing back to avoid suffering any of these wild haymakers.

Max turns back towards Brooks and rushes in with a clothesline, knocking her down to the ramp where she begins rolling towards the ring.

Comeau: Max Craven fighting off the Brat Pack and trying desperately to get Robin in the ring so that they can start their Submission Title match. He’s out for more than just revenge now.

Susie: Yep, he’s out to win something shinny, which is the greatest motivation of them all.

Mark: My God this has been such a chaotic night.

Robin finally reaches the mats then employs the steps to reach her feet. She’s just stood up before Craven grabs her long lovely locks and rolls her under the ropes to the interior of the squared circle. He turns around to catch an inbound Daniels, blocking her attempted right hand then drilling her to the jaw with a vicious closed fist. The blow knocks Autumn backwards into her cohorts, forced to catch her before she tumbles to the mats.

Craven slides into the ring, feeding off his raw emotion and aggression. His eyes desperately search for the referee who has yet to reach the ring, and once he realizes this it becomes obvious what he must be do.

The former X-Class Champion rushes at the cables and then back flips over them into a moonsault that sends his body crashing into the Brat Pack members on the outside of the ring, toppling them all.

Mark: OHHH! Craven throwing himself into the Brat Pack at ringside, making sure they cannot interject themselves in this bout. Anarchy ladies and gentlemen, this is outright anarchy.

A jacked up Manhattan audience commences with a well deserved “Craven” chant as Max pulls himself out of the pile of bodies at ringside. Katie grabs him around the ankle, holding on for dear life only to have Craven kick her off then slide into the ring.

Once he gets inside Robin is right on top of him, dropping into a double axehandle across his back. She begins delivering forearm after forearm on her down opponent at this point, trying to keep him subdued. Finally Referee Fitzpatrick emerges through the entrance curtains and blazes a path straight for the ring.

The second he enters he motions for the bell, getting this contest officially underway.

Mark: Despite Robin’s best efforts she HAS to defend her title now, both Max and Referee Fitzpatrick making sure of that.

Moore: Yay, we get to see more shenanigans now. I love shenanigans almost as much as I love saying shenanigans…SHENANIGANS….te-he.

Brooks stands up and starts in with the boots on Craven, doing even more damage on her struggling victim. Max starts towards his feet although he’s a little shaken up when Robin puts him in a front chancery then delivers a clubbing blow over his upper back.

The shot knocks Craven back to a kneeling base while Robin takes off into the ropes in front of him. She bounces off and comes back in at Max who suddenly lunges from his knees into the air with a twisting back elbow. The point of the elbow connects right against Robin’s black, dead heart, knocking her from her feet to the canvas.

Mark: Max feeding off this adrenaline from the crowd, it’s absolutely got his heart racing.

Moore: All those pixy sticks I snorted earlier have got my heart racing too. Actually, you might want to get a doctor on the phone.

The momentum of her spine first impact with the ring causes Robin to sit up just in time for Max to ricochet from the ropes in front of her and deliver a beautiful hesitation dropkick right to her chest. The blow knocks her to her back with Max rolling to his feet at her side then flipping forward into a standing senton bomb that connects with deadly accuracy.

Craven hops to his feet and slaps his chest while shaking the top rope in an Ultimate Warrior-esc fashion, the crowd absolutely gobbling it up. He turns back towards Brooks, who is now the one struggling to her feet. She just stands up, gripping at her bruised sternum when Max boots her to the ribs, steps over her head and spins her around.

He hoists Robin into the air, allowing her to dangle over his back in possession for the Veritbreaker.

Mark: Max might end this early.

Mark eats his own words when Robin escapes from certain disaster, flipping over and landing on her feet behind Craven. She lunges forward, driving her shoulder into the back of Max’s knee, knocking his legs right out from under him.

Comeau: Ahhh, not only does Robin escape, but she goes right after Craven’s knee, perhaps setting up for that figure four leg lock.

Hope for Craven seems to be fading fast, his groans of pain tearing through the silence that has now taken hold of the Manhattan Center. Robin stands up and gives him even greater cause to cry out in agony by beginning to stomp him to the knee over and over again.

On the outside of the ring Katie is employing Buehler as a human crutch to reach her feet, while Paris and Autumn utilize the barricades to assist themselves to an upright base. Once they are all standing they play the part of Cheerleaders, trying to motivate the Black Widow.

Robin needs little motivation to inflict punishment on the outspoken Craven, who’s leg she continues demolish with stomp after stomp. She now drags his leg out across the canvas and drops an elbow straight to the side of it. Max sits up roaring in pain and instinctively grabbing Robin’s hair. He pulls back on her locks and then delivers a headbunt to her skull.

Now it’s Robin who cries out in pain and rolls away from Max, wrapping her hands around her damaged cranium. Hope begins to return for the fans, lifting their sails and bringing them out of their seats. Craven and Brooks struggle to their feet but it’s Robin who delivers the first shot.

She delivers a swift kick to the back of Craven’s leg, almost knocking him right back down to the canvas. He hobbles on one foot as Brooks delivers another kick, this time to the thigh, yet Max is still standing. Eventually he kicks work their way up to his ribs, doubling him over as Brooks takes him by the wrist and whips him towards the nearby turnbuckle.

However, Craven puts the breaks on it and reverses the whip, instead sending the Black Widow charging at the corner. The always thinking Robin uses her quick wits to spring into the air and twist, landing on the second rope of the corner with her back wedged to the turnbuckle.

Max looks on rather heartbroken that his move didn’t pay off. He now comes charging in only to have Brooks leap from the turnbuckle, flying right over Max’s head and landing on her feet behind him. Unfortunately Robin’s aerial display proves costly, because she plants her heel all wrong against the canvas, causing her to tweak her knee as a result.

Her loud scream lets the crowd know that something has gone terribly awry.

Mark: Ouch, I think Robin may have landed all wrong, something could have popped in her knee.

Susie: Is her knee made of bubble wrap?

Robin grits her teeth and begins to hobble, her leg suddenly having a giant bullseye mark drawn around it. Craven moves in behind her and nails said mark with a thrust kick to the crease of her knee. Robin’s scream tears through the Manhattan Center as she collapses to her back, both legs, including the injured one, raised into the air in perfect position for her opponent.

Max grabs the legs, swings around them and falls to his back. The crowd has come unglued while Robin sits up, eyes wider than dinner saucers and mouth hung open, finding herself trapped in the figure four leg lock.

Mark: Max has got the figure four, he’s got the figure four applied on Brooks!

Susie: So Robin and Max are both ice skaters? They should totally team together.

The pain coursing through Robin’s leg is almost blinding, prompting her to raise a palm into the air. Max keeps torquing on the legs until they almost snap, crying out for her to submit. The Manhattan Center is on the edge of their seats as they watch Brooks’ hand fall to the canvas and begin tapping out.

Mark: AAAH!

Susie: SWISS CHEESE!

Comeau: Craven has done it, he’s just….he…..Craven has forced….Brooks TAPPED!

Once again the Manhattan Center struggles to remain in tact due to the deafening reaction from the crowd. They almost cannot believe that Robin’s Submission Title reign has come to an end, fittingly the same way that it started. Max is elated, promptly breaking the hold and staring at the Submission Title with wide eyes as it is bestowed upon him.

Mark: Another new champion crowned in back to back matches. Max has avenged his tag team partner, he has taken the Submission gold away from the Black Widow and returned it to Fully Loaded. My God what a shocker.

Moore: It’s as shocking as blow drying your hair while taking a shower.

The crowd is still swept up in all the excitement as they watch Craven rise triumphant to his feet, lifting the Submission Championship high above his head. He basks in the adulation of his hometown audience, every fan in attendance on their feet giving him a standing ovation.

Mark: What an emotional win for Craven….what an unpredictable night this has…..HEY!

Steward rushes into the ring behind Max and chop blocks him to the back of the leg. The blow topples the new Champion to the canvas, leaving him at the mercy of the rest of the Brat Pack members coming to avenge Robin’s loss. Brooks looks to shell shocked by her defeat to join in on the mauling, having trouble believing that she is no longer the proud holder of the Submission Title.

Mark: Can’t you allow the man to have his moment? Why must the Brat Pack be such sore losers?

Susie: I wouldn’t react well if something shinny were taken away from me either. I’d totally go all menstrual on his ass.

Max lays under a tidal wave of boots, buried beneath the heels of Autumn, Paris and Steward who seem to be focusing their assault upon his already banged up knee. Buehler would join in on the punishment but she is too busy assisting an emotional Robin to her feet. The second Brooks stands and tries to join in on the beat-down a familiar voice interrupts this moment of retribution.

Ummmm, excuse me ladies…..

The reaction from the crowd is piercing once they spot Riggs stepping to the stage, microphone in hand. Surprisingly he IS wearing the attire forced upon him earlier tonight, or at least a modified version of it. The sweater vest is tattered and stained, featuring an anarchy symbol spray-painted across the front, looking more grunge than prep. The expensive khakis are ripped and torn into makeshift shorts positioned over his black pants. And finally in terms of face-paint, he has removed it as requested by Cagero. Of course Simon didn’t say anything about wearing different make-up, which is exactly the liberty that Riggs has taken. His face now features Silencer-esc paint, taking a shot at the man who attempted to force a dress code upon him.

Mark: Well, Riggs is wearing the uniform that Simon gave him.

Moore: He should be a tailor. I’m sure Michelle Blacker would let him design her clothes.

Some of the fans are laughing over the modifications that Riggs has made to his uniform but the Painted Warrior doesn’t so much as crack a grin while speaking.

Riggs: It appears that I’ve adhered to Simon’s new dress code, so it seems to me that something was missing from this Submission Title match. And that something, was me.

He makes his way down the ramp while poking himself in the chest, making sure everyone gets the point. Without fear of retribution from the Brat Pack, Riggs carelessly hops to the apron, glaring into the official’s face.

Riggs: Considering that you started this match before all the legal participants were in the ring, and didn’t give me a chance to get out here, I do believe you’re now obligated to restart this title bout. So how about you ring that bell and I can get what’s rightfully mine?

Fitzpatrick has no defense against Riggs’ logic and as thus turns to motion for the bell, restarting the Submission Title match.

Mark: Riggs is right. Robin, Max, Fitzpatrick….well, everybody ASSUMED that Riggs wouldn’t agree to Simon’s conditions. So this match shouldn’t have legally started unless we had actual confirmation from Riggs himself. But it seems that Fitzpatrick is righting that wrong and re-starting this contest!

Moore: Another title match? YAY!

MAX CRAVEN © VS. RIGGS VS. ROBIN BROOKS

Referee Fitzpatrick orders the Brat Pack members out of the ring, threatening them with substantial fines should they resist. They have no problem exiting as Riggs enters, none of them particularly interested in tangling with the Painted Warrior. The only member of the Brat Pack left behind is Robin, who’s lips begin quivering once she realizes that he’s alone in the ring with the Riggs.

Mark: Things have just gone from bad to worse for the Black Widow. She’s trapped in there with Riggs, who we all know is as unstable as unstable can be.

Susie: I like him though, he kind of looks like the Joker, only he isn’t laughing, and he’s not wearing lipstick.

Robin lips towards Riggs, regaining some feeling in her leg and regaining some of her confidence. She points between herself and the Painted Warrior, insinuating that the two of them should work together to eliminate Craven.

Riggs seems to debate this option, or at least pretends to long enough to lure Robin into a false sense of security. Once that conniving grin forms on Robin’s face her day is ruined by a boot to the mid-section. Riggs grabs her by the back of the head, charges her at the ropes and throws her threw to the outside mats.

Mark: Riggs tossing Brooks, he wasn’t born yesterday, he’s not going to fall for Robin’s act.

The gleaming eyes of Riggs transfer to Craven, who is fighting to get off the canvas and to his feet. He puts one foot on the canvas when Riggs comes charging in, looking to take advantage of all the Brat Pack’s handiwork. That plot is derailed the moment that Max lunges into the air, wraps his legs around Riggs’ neck and snaps back into the hurricarana.

Riggs ends up crashing across his back on the canvas with Craven seated on his chest, delivering jab after jab to his face.

Mark: Even after being assaulted by the Brat Pack, Max is holding his own in there against the fresh Riggs. Although he was fighting to win the title just a few moments ago, now he’s fighting to defend that very belt. In the words of M. Night Shamalyan “what a twist!”

Moore: I’m so excited that it actually does feel like someone is twisting my nipples.

Craven’s blows finally end when Riggs reaches up with his legs, wraps them around the front of Max’s shoulders and pulls him down into a roll up.

Instead of going for the pin Riggs rises to his feet, grabs the raised legs of Craven, wraps them around his own then rolls to his back. He puts his free foot to the shin of Max, pushing it forward and applying an inverted Indian Death Lock. Max pushes himself up onto his elbows, shrieking in pain, already prepared to tap out given the brutal beating he was given just seconds prior.

Mark: Unique hold established by Riggs, who could be closing in on his first title win.

Craven realizes that this is no time to give into his pain, not with so much riding on the line. He drives his fingernails into the canvas and grates his teeth against one another, willing himself in the direction of the ropes.

They are so very close, within inches actually. He outstretches his arm as far as it will go and wraps his fingers around the bottom rope to a rousing reaction from the crowd. Obviously the fans are backing their hometown boy, although they obviously intend no disrespect to the Painted Warrior.

Mark: Max employing his very first rope break to escape this submission. Putting the new champion down with an early deficit.

Susie: Those ropes must like Max, they always give me the cold shoulder though. I think it was because I rubbed my lady parts against them when entering the ring.

Comeau: I’ve never been so disgusted in my life. I feel really, really bad for those ropes now.

On the outside of the ring the Brat Pack has gathered around Robin who is heavily, heavily favoring her knee. She sits up and continues rubbing at the very injury that led to her defeat. She will not hear any of her associates’ sympathetic words, stewing with far too much rage.

Although Riggs has broken the hold he’s already dragging Max back to the center of the ring and turning him over onto his stomach. He applies a modified liontamer where he’s actually sitting on Max’s upper back and placing his opponent’s legs over top of his shoulders.

This slight inversion of the hold proves particularly painful to Craven, who is toying with the thought of submitting, forced to listen to that incessant voice in the back of his head telling him it’s not worth it. Somehow he blocks out that voice and listens to the crowd, who empower him with the drive to start clawing his way across the canvas.

Riggs leans back even further, forcing Max’s chest down to the canvas so that he has to employ his chin to do all the dragging. Finally, using every inch of his aching anatomy, Max reaches the ropes and once again grabs hold of them.

Mark: And within a matter of moments, Riggs forces Craven to use up two rope breaks. This doesn’t bode very well for the New York native.

Moore: Max is from New York?

Comeau: Why do you think he gets such deafening reactions?

Susie: Because….ummmm….he has a penis?

Mark: Are you really that juvenile, or are you just full blown retarded?

Max’s grasp on the rope becomes increasingly more important, preventing Riggs from following through with his plan to drag him back to the center of the ring. He wraps his forearm around the rope as well, preventing him from getting locked in another hold that would risk his third rope break.

He tries to pull his way through the ropes to the outside of the ring, desperate to create some distance between himself and the challenger. Finally Riggs has had enough fooling around and delivers a kick square to Craven’s seat, sending him spilling through the ropes. However, Max grabs hold of the middle one, feet left dangling above the mats.

Riggs steps in to further the punishment when Craven skins the cat back into the ring. His move is derailed by an eager Riggs though, although he may have been too eager.

Riggs’ drive to win the title left him blinded to Max’s next maneuver, wrapping his legs around the Painted Warrior’s head as he skinned the cat. He then lets go of the top rope and spins around at first to deliver a leg scissors, but then changes his plan in mid-swing.

He keeps his legs wrapped around Riggs’ neck and reaches across his upper back, grabbing his far arm. The modified Octopus Stretch proves debilitating enough to bring the challenger down to both knees. The air and blood supply is being cut off to his head, leaving him really woozy.

Mark: Max reversing his fate and doing so in a hurry. He’s got the challenger trapped, but is this hold the ticket to a successful title defense?

Moore: I’d like to buy a ticket on that ride. Unless it goes in circles, then it would just make me throw up.

The crowd watches like they were privy to an execution, waiting for the switch to be thrown and for Riggs’ title ambitions to be extinguished. Although he may have fallen to a knee Riggs is quick to get back to his feet. He growls while standing up, Max still clamped around his neck and his arm, but it isn’t stopping him.

It takes all of his strength but Riggs is able to use his free arm to twist Max’s legs just enough to have them fall over his shoulders. Craven looks wide eyed as he realizes that he’s trapped in position for the Alabama slam.

Riggs pulls down on the back of his ankles, on the verge of shattering his spine against the canvas. At the last second Craven counters, as he flies over Riggs’ head he catches him around the neck. He then reaches out and wraps his legs around Riggs’ mid-section, applying a front chancery, body scissors combination.

The fans are amazed by Max’s quick thinking, and the reversal that has put him right back in the driver’s seat. This time Riggs isn’t brought to a knee, he completely collapses, coming down right on top of Max.

He flips forward into a jackknife cover it seems only for his feet to drop across the middle rope. The referee demands that Max break the front chancery.

Mark: Riggs wisely employing his first break, he’s just like Craven, he knows the longer he’s held in these submissions, the more damage it does to his body, which greatly decreases his chance at leaving a champion.

Susie: That was so insightful it makes me queasy.

Comeau: One person who does not have a lot of insight into what’s happening in the ring is the former champion, Robin Brooks looks like she’s still in a lot of pain on the outside.

Autumn pokes Robin in the knee, causing her to scream and slap her hands away. She has no clue what her opponents are doing as they continue to trade holds.

After using his feet to break the hold, he wedges them against the very rope that aided him. He kicks back, flipping over Max, and freeing his head from the front chancery. He lands on his feet, standing right over Craven who suddenly reaches out with his legs, wrapping them around the challenger’s head.

Riggs wedges his hands to the back of Max’s ankles and shoves him off, sending the Champion rolling across the back of his head and shoulders then straight to his feet. He bounces spine first off of the ropes and comes charging back at his opposition.

Riggs bends down to catch him with a backdrop only to have Craven leap right over him and continue into the opposite ropes. He ricochets from these cables and comes charging back towards his opponent who catches him right under his arm, going for the Canadian Back breaker.

Craven flips back though, traveling up and over Riggs’ shoulder, then landing directly behind him. He catches Riggs around the neck, setting up for that hip grinding taunt before delivering the neckbreaker.

Riggs provides a surprising counter however, twisting to face Max’s spine, catching him around the waist and dropping into a backwards roll. He ends up seated on the back of Max’s thighs, compressing his body to the canvas in an instinctive pinning position.

The valiant Submission Champion kicks out though, launching Riggs off right into the ropes. He bounces from the cables just as Craven sits up on the canvas, leaving him entirely exposed to the shinning wizard which connects right to Max’s temple.

Mark: Shinning Wizard drilling Craven directly to his face. That might have been just the high impact maneuver Riggs needed to hit to keep Max down for the submission.

Riggs, who is all fired up, slips in behind Craven, sits him up on the canvas and takes his arms. He wraps them both around Max’s neck and wedges a knee to his spine, applying a modified rear chin lock, cobra clutch submission. All the energy is fading from Max’s body, his lips quivering as he tries to choke back the words “I quit.” These are the words that the referee so anxiously anticipates hearing, hovering over Craven on the off chance that he’ll utter them.

Comeau: Craven in a very bad way. Either he’ll tap out or be forced to use his last remaining rope break to escape this hold.

Susie: Those ropes will only help him for so long. They’re stingy like that.

Craven refuses to say the words that Riggs and the referee desperately anticipate. He twists from side to side, trying to free his battered torso from this hold. The air supply to his head is being cut off however, making it incredibly difficult for him to formulate any type of strategy that would free himself from his current predicament.

Somehow he gets to a knee, Riggs forced to alter his submission. He removes his kneecap from Max’s lower back, but wrenches on the arms even further, continuing to tighten them around the Champion’s throat.

He gags, gasping desperately for air the closer and closer he gets to his feet. Riggs tries to shut him down by putting a foot on the crease of his knee, a move that seemingly does the trick. Max is brought back down to a kneeling base, Riggs having him right where he wants him.

Mark: I don’t think Craven can stand this submission much longer. After all he’s already been through, including fending off the entire Brat Pack, this is just too much.

The crowd can tell that Max is coming closer and closer to his breaking point, prompting them to slap the barriers and stomp their feet to the concrete. The ruckus they create is intended to motivate Max and it seems to be doing just the trick.

Even as Craven’s face becomes a bright shade of purple, and sweat streams down his fatigued features he starts his upward ascension once again.

Mark: Max is starting to stand.

Susie: Mastering that isn’t as easy as it sounds, especially while talking on a phone, or chewing gum.

Determination shines through Max’s eyes as he plants one foot on the canvas, then uses all his remaining strength to position the other beneath him as well. Even beneath the paint one can tell that Riggs’ face is turning a bright shade of red, depicting just how angry he is.

It’s his anger that causes him to break the hold and drive his skull into the back of Max’s cranium. The headbunt has Max doubled over with Riggs taking him by the hair and charging him at the ropes. The moment they reach the cables Riggs lunges into the air, flying over the top rope and pulling Max down throat first against it.

Craven ricochets off, grabbing at his neck and once again trying to breathe. His crafty opponent stands up on the apron, poised to acquire his very first title here in the IWC. He pivots anxiously between feet, body teeming with adrenaline.

He now springs to the top rope and the crowd watches in awe as he flies through the air. His graceful dive ends with his chin being caught right on Craven’s shoulder, and his head being snapped down into the Fully Loaded Stunner. The fans have trouble believing what they just witnessed, a picture perfect counter by means of a crisp and devastating stunner.

Mark: AMAZING counter from Craven!

Moore: HOLY TOLEDO!

Riggs pops up to his feet although he looks downright comatose, eyes rolling to the back of his head. He seemingly has no idea what hit him as Max forces his way to his feet, kicks Riggs to the ribs and delivers another stunner. This one sends Riggs ricocheting from the shoulder and flying through the air until he ultimately collides with the canvas.

Mark: A second stunner, Riggs may be incapacitated enough for Craven to score the submission, but he has to move quickly now.

Susie: I don’t think speed will be a problem for him, at least not judging by his videos.

The crowd is in serious need of some oxygen tanks at this point but are still pleading with Craven to capitalize on his stunners and retain his newly won title. Max grits his teeth through the pain which flows through all parts of his weary body.

Finally, much the relief of his fans, Craven stands up, seconds from locking in a hold on the unconscious Riggs and as thus retaining his championship. One person who doesn’t seem to like that idea is Paris, who on behalf of the Brat Pack slides into the ring right in front of Craven.

She charges directly at him with a scream only for Max to lay her out with a straight punch to her lovely nose. As Dannon hits the canvas like a sack of potatoes the crowd rejoices, watching as the referee rolls her unconscious body from the ring.

Mark: Max took out Paris, not letting anyone ruin…..

Comeau is silenced in mid-sentence thanks to the sight of Robin Brooks cracking Craven in the back of the head with the Submission Title.

Mark: What? NO!

Moore: You didn’t even let me finish asking if you could narrate Ethan’s porno video? We tried to get James Earl Jones, but he threatened to sue us. Well, I guess we were kinda going through his garbage at the time, so I understand.

Comeau: That damn Brooks just hit Craven with the title. These referees need eyes in the back of their heads.

The blow from the championship sends Craven reeling to the canvas. Just as his now unconscious frame connects with canvas, Brooks hastily tosses the Submission Title belt through the ropes. After dumping Paris to the outside, the referee finally turns around, none the wiser to what just happened. All he sees is Robin limping towards Riggs, grabbing him by the legs and applying the figure four.

She drops to her back, establishing the submission while Riggs just lays there, not moving a single, solitary muscle. The stunners have left him completely incapacitated, not even aware that he’s being locked in a hold. The referee drops down to Riggs’ side, checking on his condition, trying to determine whether or not he’s still capable of competing.

Mark: Oh don’t tell me Robin is going to earn another victory by way of unscrupulous means.

Susie: I don’t think she knows how to win any other way.

Comeau: This is the same way that Robin beat Riggs in their last triple threat match. Someone else did the damage then she came in and took advantage of it. I don’t want to see a repeat of history.

Moore: Yeah, repeats are boring, unless their repeats of Power Rangers.

The referee grabs Riggs’ arm, raising it from the canvas then watching as it falls limply at his side. This is all the proof the official needs to determine that Riggs has fainted from the pain, prompting him to stand and call for the bell.

Mark: No, dammit, no. Not again.

The chiming bell can barely be heard above the roar of the audience. The fans find themselves borderline homicidal over the means in which Brooks has just won back her Submission Championship. The detested Black Widow rises to her knees and screams out of joy as Katie promptly returns the title to her. Steward steps over Brooks’ back and places the gold on top of her shoulder, Robin caressing the very championship she almost lost several moments ago.

Mark: I don’t have to like it, but I guess I’m going to have to accept it. Robin is once again the Submission Champion. What a heart breaker for both Riggs and Craven.

Susie: I’m heart broken too, but that’s mainly because they cancelled Animaniacs.

The Brat Pack fills the ring celebrating with the new champion. Robin is hoisted to her feet while she hoists her gold high above her head.

Comeau: Robin employing deception once again to walk out of this match with the title, but I guess you got to go with what works.

Robin cackles at the expense of her injured opponents, very proud of the underhanded means in which she employed to win back her title. But her pleasure is evaporated the moment that Hurse slides into the ring. He charges straight at his former lover and spears her to the ribs with his uninjured shoulder.

Mark: HEY! It’s Hurse, he’s going right after Robin.

Moore: Good for him. He’s using the caveman method of getting a girlfriend.

Comeau: There was nothing seductive about that spear, Susie.

An absolutely stunned Robin finds herself defenseless against the series of punches connecting to her face, delivered by her wild former flame. Autumn is the first person in the ring, charging up behind Hurse and stomping him to the back of the head.

Hurse grabs at his cranium and rolls to his knees while Daniels blasts him over the back with a clubbing blow then quickly high tails it from the ring. Her assault was merely a distraction to allow Brooks to get out of harm’s way. Robin rolls under the ropes where Katie and Paris assist her in standing. Katelyn would assist, but she’s too busy hiding behind the barricade, peeking cautiously over it at her vengeful ex.

Mark: Hurse the only person in the building taking a stand against the Brat Pack but Robin got away before he could exact his revenge. Which I’m sure comes as a major disappointment for this crowd.

Moore: I’m disappointed to, but only because I never got my snow-cone.

A relieved Robin leans on her fellow Brat Pack colleagues for support as they start up the ramp. Hurse isn’t about to let them get away so easily. Driven by the pain in his shoulder and the betrayal at Upping the Ante, driven to victimize all those who had a hand in his torment.

He slides under the ropes and takes off after the Brat Pack. A weary Robin rushes up the ramp, Autumn, Paris and Katie following with Hurse nipping at their heels.

Mark: Hurse intent on revenge, and he’s not leaving here tonight until he gets it.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Nor do we condone the Ultimate Warrior dancing…..this has been a PSA

FACING YOUR MISTAKES

The crowd comes alive at the sight of Porno Lad, their anger over the previous match replaced by their affection for the now former N.H.B Champion. Although the wounds on his forehead may not have healed, and the muscles in his aching body have yet to mend, he looks to be eagerly anticipating the main event.

It’s all he thinks about while pacing through his lockeroom, mind preoccupied with thoughts of committing what could legally be construed as a hate crime. Miho Miyazaki is obviously his first target on the long, curvy road to revenge.

BFG: Sup playa?

Porno Lad’s gargantuan guard lumbers into the scene, not wasting time with knocking. He extends a palm towards the ailing former champion. Instead of getting some love from his boy, Porno Lad just shoots him a blank stare. The type of stare coupled with an unsettling silence that would even force a sociopath to confess.

BFG: What’s wit the mean mugging, bro?

Porno Lad: Don’t play stupid, even if you are really good at it.

BFG is more confused than ever.

BFG: Why you gettin’ all up in my grill wit this hostility?

Porno Lad: I can’t believe you.

The fact that his good friend won’t fess up and come clean completely demoralizes Porno. He falls to his seat on the bench just inches removed from his locker, palm engulfing his face. After a week of twists and swerves that HE didn’t set into motion, and finding himself on the receiving end of a prank, he just can’t tolerate anymore.

BFG: How’d you find out?

BFG drops the act as he pulls a seat up close to his long time friend.

Porno Lad: That doesn’t matter, you should know that you can’t keep secrets around here.

BFG: I know I let you down, playa, but I need to keep food on my kids’ plates somehow.

Porno Lad: You don’t even have any kids.

BFG forgot who he was talking to for a moment, forgetting just how difficult it is to get one over on his closest friend.

BFG: Sorry….

Porno Lad: Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Not only did you take a pay off from Christian, but you made me look like an ass. AN ASS. I fed Johnny a bunch of false information, my credibility is shot. You played me!

BFG: Man, I don’t know what to say.

He is almost too grief stricken by his action to interpret his remorse.

BFG: All I can keep telling you is that I’m sorry. I just had a moment of weakness is all, happens to the best of us man. And you haven’t been employing my mad skills lately…..

Porno Lad: Don’t even turn this around on me.

BFG: Yeah, sorry again, playa.

Porno Lad: Stop apologizing too.

BFG: My bad. But listen, this ain’t nothing to throw away a friendship over.

Porno Lad: Really?

BFG: We been bros for how many years now? Too many to count dog. So I accepted a bribe, ain’t nothin’ you never did before. I jus desperately needed that green. Credit card bills be enormous.

Porno Lad: You really want to show me your sorry?

BFG: I’ll do anything to fix my mistake. Want to slam my junk in the door? I’ll do it.

Porno Lad’s face is a mixture of shock and disgust.

Porno Lad: Good GAWD! Of course not. What the hell is wrong with you?

BFG: I haven’t eaten in a few minutes, you know what low blood sugar does to me.

Porno Lad: I was merely going to suggest that you come to the ring with me tonight, just like old times, and make sure none of those coked up bitches interfere in my match. Thank you can handle that?

BFG’s face brightens.

BFG: I sure can. We gonna be doing it gangsta style tonight.

Now Porno Lad is willing to take BFG’s hand and take some responsibility for his betrayal, realizing that he drove his good friend into Savior’s back pocket.

KATELYN BUEHLER © VS. SIMON CAGERO

Riot! returns with the crowd reeling from the aftermath of that triple threat bout. A visual reminder of what they just witnessed remains in the ring, Brat Pack member Katelyn Buehler doing some unorthodox stretching in preparation for her second title defense.

Mark: We’re back live with N.H.B Champion Katelyn Buehler still occupying the ring, she hasn’t left since the conclusion of that twisted Submission Title match. She hopes to have the same luck as fellow Brat Pack member Robin Brooks, by walking away with her title but that might be a tad difficult given who she’s about to face.

Moore: Mighty Mouse? He is pretty unstoppable.

Comeau: I’m actually referring to Simon Cagero, who has been red hot since his return to the IWC, and much like AWOL, he’s gone undefeated. Will he win his first title since his return? Or will Buehler find some cheap way of walking off with that belt yet again?

Susie: Everything about Katelyn is cheap. From her fake boobs to her fake press on nails. At least my nails are real, and made out of candy.

Mark: That doesn’t even….never-mind, let’s just concentrate on the action, which has been just as confusing here tonight.

Moore: Can I just pretend to pay attention?

Comeau: Sure, no need to deviate from your usual piss poor effort now.

Suddenly, the lights dim down, and are replaced with a dark red. The words "Wasted" Appear on the video tron as it flickers to life, as "Pardon Me" by Staind starts to play.

I'm One Step
From A Breakdown
Two Steps From
Being Safe
Just Try To
See This Through
I'm Three Steps
From This Nightmare
And Four Steps
From The Door
The Rest Is
Up To You

"LAAAAAADIIIIEEEESSSS AND GENTLEMEN!"

A voice comes over the music, as the crowd gets to their feet. Simon Cagero walks out from the backstage, holding a microphone.

Simon: "ARE WE READY?!"

He belts out into the microphone, before looking around to all the fans

Simon: "To get..."

The smile on his face broadens, as all the lights dim down.

Simon: "A LITTLE WASTED?!"

The rampway lights up with a string of pyro that spells out 'W-A-S-T-E-D" Simon looks around, before starting his way down to the ring

Pardon Me While I
Just Turn My Back
And Walk Away
Pardon Me If I
Can't Listen
To The Things
You Say
Pardon Me If I
Can't Fake This
While You Still Believe
Pardon Me

Simon: "This little peace of work, making his way to the ring, is probably the greatest man to ever hail from New York City. But don't worry kiddies, he's not out to steal your wallet."

He chuckles, as he reaches the ring, grabs the ropes and climbs to the apron. Upon slipping through the ropes Katelyn lunges at him only to have the official desperately try to keep her at bay. This extreme reaction causes Cagero to lower his microphone, cutting short his usual pre-match introduction.

Mark: As King for a Day, Simon certainly has pissed off a lot of people. Katelyn Buehler included, considering that he’s forced her to put the belt on the line for the second time within just a few weeks of winning it.

A smile so wide it could severe Simon’s face in two stretches from one ear to the other. Cagero is not only ready, he’s eager to get his hands on the champion before him, a woman who threw a serious wrench into his plans at Upping the Ante. Buehler looks less than enthused about defending her title, especially given what’s happened to the rest of the Brat Pack this evening.

Mark: Katelyn Buehler doesn’t look very happy about this match, but Simon sure is. He has a chance to take that title right off of Buehler’s lovely waist.

Susie: Good, and Katelyn’s waist isn’t lovely, it’s totally FAT, you can tell she ate something this month…..WIDE-LOAD!

As the bell chimes in the background Cagero starts out of the corner but Buehler is hesitant to so much as move. She gnaws at her lower lip, paralyzed by the fear of losing her championship tonight. Cagero winks in her direction and mouths the words “I’ll try to take it easy on ya.”

These comments do nothing to calm Buehler, who with a heaving chest starts out of the corner, twirling a lock of hair seductively around her finger. With pouty lips and an alluring strut she moves towards Simon, placing one hand on his shoulder and running the other through the locks of his hair.

Mark: What is Katelyn doing? Is she actually trying to seduce Simon?

Susie: That slut, that hoe-bag, that WHOOOOREEE! There, I feel better now.

Comeau: I bet you do. I didn’t even know you had emotions Susie.

Moore: I know, it’s creepy.

She runs her finger in a circular motion around one of Simon’s nipples while he juts out his chin and protrudes his lower lip over the top one. He looks out over the crowd who are begging him not to fall for Katelyn’s advances.

Buehler: I think the two of us could have much more fun wrestling each other in bed rather than the ring.

She gives Simon a puppy dog look meant to play on Simon’s sympathy. Unfortunately for Katelyn, sympathy isn’t a word in Cagero’s vocabulary. He slowly pulls outward on the waist of his pants and stares down at his genitalia. His eyes return to Buehler in the midst of shrugging.

Simon: Nope, nothing.

Katelyn is infuriated that her advances couldn’t get Simon all feisty, so in a fit she throws a slap at his face. Cagero quickly ducks down, avoiding it and causing the momentum to spin Buehler around. Almost immediately Simon lunges forward with his teeth, sinking them into Katelyn’s posterior. The fans start screaming wildly as does Buehler, not out of pleasure, but out of pain.

Mark: Simon biting Buehler right on her money maker!

Susie: Actually, Buehler’s money maker has more than one hole in it.

The raucous crowd continues cheering as Buehler leaps into the air, finally freeing her bottom from the jaws of life. In a rage she turns to face Simon, who steps back with palms raised in the air.

Simon: Wow, that tasted awful.

Buehler is even more enraged than ever, now throwing a forearm at Simon’s face only for him to step back avoiding it. The momentum of the punch causes Katelyn to fall forward, right over Cagero’s knee. He has her in perfect position to begin unloading with the spankings!

The crowd chants along with each slap of the ass delivered by Simon to Katelyn’s hindparts.

Mark: Simon slapping that ass!

Susie: He’ll probably need to give his hand a dose of penicillin. But it’s okay, I have a life time supply of it at home.

The slaps continue until Katelyn’s keister is bright red. He finally lets her go, Buehler rolling off and rubbing at her toosh, not taking too lightly to all this bum based offense. She complains to referee Fitzpatrick who informs her that this match is no disqualification, meaning anything and everything goes.

Therefore Buehler stands up and goes for a kick directly to Simon’s nether regions. Cagero catches the boot right before it could drill him to the junk. A terrified Katelyn watches as Simon lifts a finger, wagging it back and forth. He pushes down on the foot then boots Katelyn to the ribs and grabs her by the wrist.

Katelyn is shot off into the cables, bouncing off and coming back in at Simon who cocks back his fist to unleash a jab. Surprisingly Buehler has the intelligence to grab the top rope, drop to her seat and roll under the cables to the outside of the ring, avoiding the jab. Unbeknownst to her, she sets herself up for something far worse.

With her back pressed to the apron she has no idea that Simon is charging up behind her. She doesn’t realize this until Simon drops and slides under the ropes across his stomach, catching Buehler around the neck in the process and hitting a bulldog to the outside mats.

Katelyn’s lovely face drills the mats with Cagero landing on his knees beside her.

Comeau: WOW! What a move by Simon, that was unique.

Susie: And the best part is, it made Katelyn even less prettier than me. Now she probably looks just like Joe Pesci.

Buehler rolls to her back, eyes fluttering as she tries to remain conscious. As Simon rises to his feet he realizes that he’s not only got this match in the palm of his hand but the fans as well. They are already starting a Cagero chant as the challenger pulls Buehler to her feet, rolls her into the ring and then climbs up to the apron.

He pivots between feet anxiously, clutching the top rope in anticipation of flying over it. His arrogant smile is brighter than ever as he waits for Buehler to stand up, Katelyn doing everything in her power to reach her feet. She checks her nose, making sure it doesn’t require cosmetic surgery as she reaches an upright base only to have Simon spring to the top rope and fly off into a big lariat.

His arm connects directly to her throat, knocking both competitors down while Cagero tucks into a forward roll. He ends up on his seat, drops to his back and then nips up to his feet to the crowd’s delight.

Mark: Simon dominating Buehler….I mean….come on…..what more do you expect?

Susie: Tellitubies?

Comeau: It was a rhetorical question, Susie.

Simon turns around to face the very inexperienced Buehler. Katelyn sits up with a hurting throat and a swollen ass as Simon charges in and delivers a violent running knee strike directly to her face. The blow knocks Katelyn unconscious, Cagero turning and dropping into the lateral press.

Cagero: Don’t worry, I’m sure she’s use to having plenty of guys on top of her!

The fans cheer over this accusation while the referee drops into position to make the count.

1

2

Simon: No, no, no, no.

Simon rises to his knees and with the bangs of Buehler in his palm, pulls her up to her seat.

Cagero: She hasn’t been wasted enough.

Susie: Te-he-he-he, YAY!

Mark: Simon had a chance to win the N.H.B Championship there, in fact I think it was all but a given, but instead he’s gonna further dish out punishment on this….well…..slut.

A rattled, shaken up Buehler is pulled to her feet by the hair and dragged into a corner. Simon carelessly throws her against the turnbuckle and then pushes her up to the top rope. She sits on the turnbuckle wavering back and forth, eyes glossy, suffering a splitting headache.

Simon backs towards the center of the ring, pointing out to the audience members, specifically those chanting his name. A grin forms across his face before he charges at the turnbuckle only to have Buehler launch herself off the top rope into a Lou Thez Press.

Mark: HEY! Buehler actually getting in an offensive maneuver!

Susie: POPPYCOCK! Hehehe, I love that word. Sounds so dirty.

Buehler punches Simon to the cheek over and over again, getting out all her frustrations. She relishes this opportunity, her first shot at brutalizing Simon for all the violence he’s inflicted on her rear-end. Finally she stands up, takes Simon around the neck, rolls him to his feet and prepares for the dreaded snapmare.

Katelyn: HIIIIIYAAAA!

Cagero is flipped over Buehler’s shoulder and sent tumbling to his posterior. He sits up on the canvas looking a bit frazzled by those jabs he just suffered to the jaw. All the while Buehler is running into the ropes in front of him, bouncing off and going for…..well, she has no idea but bouncing off the cables at least gives her time to think.

Simon derails her train of thought, standing up and going for a knife edge chop on his inbound opponent. Buehler ducks the blow then steps behind him, waiting for Simon to turn around before she lungs into the air.

Once again Buehler is setting up for the Lou Thez Press only to have Simon reach out, catch her by the back of the legs and allow Katelyn to fall spine first into the canvas. He now drops back, catapulting her towards the nearest turnbuckle.

The fans and Simon alike find themselves stunned that Buehler had the skill to avoid crashing into the corner by instead landing on it. A huge smile forms on Katelyn’s face as she spins around and jumps off of the turnbuckle, going for a double axehandle.

Cagero stands up and catches her though, plucking her out of the air and putting her in position for the Break the Silence.

Mark: There goes Buehler’s title!

Susie: Good, now Simon can give it back to Porno Lad so I can play with it again.

Simon has Buehler exactly where he wants her, spinning around to overlook the screaming fans as he prepares to unleash his dreaded maneuver.

Mark: Here we go, Break the Silence about to break Buehler and take her championship.

Cagero prepares to deliver one of his more powerful maneuvers when the lights in the building suddenly dim, enveloping the entire arena in darkness.

Moore: Not again. Quick, give me a flashlight.

Mark: AAH, that’s not a flashlight dammit.

Susie: Do I have to twist it to turn it on?

Comeau: STOP!

The crowd anxiously tries to see through the shadows, desperate for a glimpse of what’s happening in the ring. Some of them pull out cameras, hoping that the flash will give them a hint of what may be transpiring. All efforts to see into the ring are in vain before the houselights rise and Simon Cagero’s bloody body is revealed, strewn across the canvas, steel pipe resting beside his lacerated head.

Mark: WHAT!?! Not again!

Susie: A steel pipe just attacked Simon Cagero. Damn these inanimate objects! They’re like the Legion of Doom.

The blow from the pipe has left a gash in Cagero’s forehead and left him prone to Buehler. An aching Katelyn drags herself up with the aid of the ropes, eyes nervously darting back and forth while a grin settles on her face.

Mark: This isn’t right, this isn’t right at all. Somebody has taken out Simon Cagero, the same somebody who has attacked Johnny Kingdom twice with that steel pipe.

The referee is awe struck by what he’s seeing but is still capable of comprehension. He turns towards Buehler and tells her that this match is ruled a no contest, which Katelyn has no problem with. The smile on her face only widens, pleased to have escaped this match with her title via any means possible, including an act of God.

Mark: This is a damn crying shame.

Moore: Didn’t Miho Miyazaki star in that movie?

Mark: Not the Crying Game, a crying shame you idiot. Simon was just screwed out of the N.H.B Championship when he had victory well within his grasp.

The crowd is still reeling, doing a double take after hearing the referee’s verdict. Katelyn stands all the way up and thanks God while the referee forks over the N.H.B Title. She pulls the belt to her lips, plants a kiss and throws it high above her head, now jumping around with all the pep of a cheerleader.

Simon is only just now starting to regain some of his consciousness, looking up through the blood oozing into his eyes to see Katelyn celebrating with the title.

Mark: Who is behind these attacks?

Susie: My most logical guess would be Elmer Fud.

Comeau: I shudder to think of what your least logical guess would be……oh good gravy, apparently something is going down backstage AGAIN! Will people stop shouting in my ear mic and get a friggin camera back there? For the love of Pete.

Moore: It’s good to see that you’ve finally come out of the closet Mark. You’ll have to introduce me to this Pete one day.

Mark: It’s an expre…..just cut to the back please.

TAKING OUT THE TRASH

Both Robin and Katie are gripping the trunks of former World Champion Hurse, who is desperately trying to protect himself. He cannot prevent being thrown shoulder first, injured shoulder of course, right into a large dumpster backstage. His body ricochets from the steel and collapses to the concrete, where Paris and Autumn are waiting to unload stomps. They promptly go to work, putting the boots to a defenseless Hurse.

Robin: Did you think we were through with you? Huh?

Brooks crouches down over Hurse who is gripping at his swollen, black and blue shoulder. The pain is damn near intolerable, almost forcing a grown man to burst into tears.

Brooks: You should have known better than to come after us on your own. You need an army to defeat the Brat Pack.

Katie: Or some mini-nukes....

Autumn: Maybe some chemical warfare.

Paris: What about E Coli, that would put us down for a while.

Daniels: That counts as chemical warfare.

Dannon: HOW? It’s in food, not the air…..

Robin: Ladies, ladies….

Robin frantically swipes her arms through the air.

Robin: I got this.

They stop speaking and go back to kicking away at their powerless prey.

Brooks: I’m gonna do to you what I should have done years ago.

She makes an upward gesture with her palm.

Brooks: Help me pick him up.

Autumn and Katie assist Robin in lifting the broken bag of bones to his feet. The barely conscious Hurse is taken by the back of the head and tights while Brooks’ warm breathe can be felt caressing his ear.

Robin: Time to take out the trash.

She, Autumn and Katie charge Hurse at the dumpster then throw him over the side into the bin. He lays lifelessly amongst a huge heap of garbage, his body adding to the waste. A smug, satisfied Brooks backs away from the dumpster cleaning her palms by swiping them together.

Brooks: Let’s take care of the rest of the trash.

Steward: I do love these poignant metaphors.

The four lovely ladies vacate the parking structure, leaving a broken, humiliated Hurse behind.

Mark: The wrath of the Brat Pack felt once again on this wild IWC telecast.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Live on Pay-Per-View

THE HUNT CONTINUES

Billy Mayne: Sean, I would be heart broken for you, but in order for that to work I’d actually have to possess a heart. Not counting the one I keep on my mantle.

A wounded, battle weary Sean Johnson stands before the interview set, unscathed by Billy’s comments. He is far too preoccupied with the withered condition of his body, holding ice to his forehead to keep down the swelling.

Johnson: Why?

Billy: Pardon?

Billy’s awkwardly blinking eyes demonstrate his confusion.

Sean: Why should you be heartbroken? Did you watch the Notebook or something?

Mayne: Nooo….I was referring to your wasted opportunity earlier tonight.

Confusion seems to be contagious, because now Sean is coming down with it.

Billy: You know, because Psycho got himself disqualified and AWOL attacked you and…..

Johnson: Oh….oh yeah, THAT! But why do you see it as a wasted opportunity?

Billy: Because now your no longer number one contender.

Sean: Who cares?

Mayne: Um, wouldn’t everybody?

Sean scoffs at the notion, or at least tries to before realizing that he’s in searing pain.

Johnson: Believe me, I’ll have another shot at the Cartel Title, my agent is already working out all the details.

Billy: So your not upset that Psycho unintentionally got himself disqualified?

Sean: Look at my face, does it look like I’m angry?

He smiles even though his cheeks are swollen.

Mayne: Um, are you supposed to be grinning right now?

Johnson: I’m trying to. I have no reason to be upset. Not only did I just weaken Psycho for our eventual rematch, but I took away his psychological power. The reason Psycho wins all the time is because he operates on fear. That’s how he intimidates his opponents; he terrifies them with the fear of a beating. But now that I’ve survived that beating, I no longer fear him. And assuming that AWOL doesn’t take up for Psycho next time, you had better believe I’ll become the next Cartel…..

Simon: RIIIIIGGGSSSS!

Blood continues to mask Cagero’s face as he staggers into the interview area. He falls against a stunned and terrified Billy, employing him as a crutch to remain upright.

Billy: Sim….erm….BOSS, what happen….

Before he can finish his sentence, Simon engulfs Billy’s face with his palm and shoves him away. Sean watches through wide eyes as the bloodied King for a Day limps past him.

Cagero: RIGGS! I know your back here you emo clown!

Johnson becomes even more alarmed when he spots the steel pipe gripped in Simon’s hand. Clearly Cagero has evil intentions for the weapon and for the man he believes to have assaulted him.

PAT EVANS & MIHO MIYAZAKI
VS.
JOHNNY KINGDOM & PORNO LAD

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 being flanked by his colleague BFG.

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

BFG grabs the middle rope, pulling down on it so that Porno Lad can effortlessly enter the ring. He spins in circles gesturing to the hotter female fans then winking towards Susie at the commentary table. Moore hides her blushing as the former N.H.B Champion removes his coat and tosses it to BFG.

Mark: Despite the numerous injuries and humiliations that Porno Lad suffered at Upping the Ante he seems to be in a rare mood here tonight.

Susie: I made him feel all better after that pay-per-view. I tucked him that night, gave him a warm glass of milk and read him all the letters in Playboy magazine.

Comeau: If the thought of you and Porno Lad in a relationship wasn’t so gag inducing I’d be happy for you both. I think the primary reason Porno Lad is so happy though, is not only because he’s been reunited with BFG, but he’s got a chance at revenge against Miho in this match.

The Prankster continues to strut in anticipation of his opponent when….

WAKE UP

….explodes over the PA system, resulting in an equally as explosive reaction from the crowd. Almost everyone in the building is on their feet for the World Heavyweight Champion, and it doesn’t take long for them to feast their eyes on the Team Leader. Their anticipation ends when Kingdom marches through the curtains and blazes a path straight towards the ring. The World Title belt hangs from his palm before Johnny tosses it over the ropes into the ring then climbs up to the apron. He spends little time pandering to the audience, although he does have cause for celebration. Not only did he make a point to Savior earlier tonight, but he now has the opportunity to finally end his rivalry with Evans in the form of this tag team melee.

Mark: Johnny more focused than usual. He’s had quite the productive night, not only did he derail Savior’s World Title plans, but this match gives him the opportunity to finally settle the score against Pat Evans.

Moore: I hate keeping track of the score. Numbers terrify me.

Comeau: Indeed they do, but what doesn’t terrify Johnny, is Pat Evans, despite the fact that Pat was milliseconds away from taking that World Title at Upping the Ante.

Kingdom and Porno Lad find themselves eye to eye, the two exchanging a tense stare-down. Having never worked together in the past doesn’t bode very well for their continuity and trust is definitely a primary concern amongst them. Porno-star my Miss Construction is fed into the Manhattan Center by means of the PA system, dredging a very negative reaction out of the crowd. Miho Miyazaki steps through the curtains, the transgender met with the dejection of the audience. Miho, sporting an amazing goth dress, proceeds towards the ring, disinterred in the reaction. His/her interest is placed primarily on Porno Lad, gauging the expression on his face and the homicidal gleam in his eyes.

Mark: This hasn’t exactly been the best night for Miho Miyazaki based off of what happened earlier, but he, or, um, her, whatever, will get the chance to right her earlier mistake by possibly defeating Porno Lad this evening.

Moore: Porno Lad will totally spank Miho….no, wait, that would be considered gay now. I have to get all these fantasies out of my head, I don’t want to be a closet homosexual like Tom Cruise.

Miyazaki steps to the apron, winking at Porno Lad who is held back by the referee. Porno Lad is positively dying to get his hands on Miho, but can’t break free from the official’s clutches. Miyazaki only stops her taunting when “Outsider” plays over the PA system, causing his/her attention to divert to the entry way. Pure malice sets into Miho’s eyes as Pat Evans steps through the curtains to the stage. One half of the IWC Tag Team Titles is present over his shoulder, purposely wearing it to the ring in an act that infuriates Miyazaki so.

Mark: I don’t know how wise this is, Pat further alienating his partner by wearing that Tag Team Title belt out here. As if he needed even more people pissed off at him.

Susie: I don’t like him either, ever since I found out that hobos spend the money you donate them on booze.

Comeau: Susie, Pat Evans is NOT a hobo.

Moore: Well he wears a hobos uniform, that’s for sure.

Evans proceeds up the steps to the apron and mouths some words to Miho that seems to calm his partner down. Miyazaki promises Evans that when the match is over, the gloves come off. Pat could care-less, for his immediate concern is the World Heavyweight Champion, Johnny having not removed his eyes from Evans since the moment his entrance music was cued.

Mark: And with all parties in the ring, we are ready for our explosive tag team main event.

BFG shouts some last minute words of encouragement to his employer, the big man looking incredibly excited to once again be at ringside. To once again have some purpose in life, to once again be earning his paycheck. However, those in the ring do not share in such elation, instead Kingdom and Porno Lad seem to be quite tense teaming up with each other.

The same can be said about Pat Evans and Miho Miyazaki, who look equally as unsure about partnering up, given what went down earlier in the night. With the bell chiming in the background all the tension must be thrown aside and the competitors must get over their own egos.

Mark: We’ve seen this situation so often here in the IWC, unstable alliances forced to team together. We’re going to see the same thing here tonight with both of these tandems, I guess in a feeble attempt to make matters even more dramatic.

Susie: I love drama almost as much as I love making random references to old cartoon shows.

Comeau: Good lord, drama must be an obsession of yours then.

Moore: I’ve watched the Dawson’s Creek boxset so many times that the DVDs have scratches on them.

The bell continues to chime in the background as Evans steps through the ropes, looking to start this match out for his team. Porno Lad is the one beginning the contest on behalf of his partnership, although he didn’t clear this fact with Kingdom. Judging by the look on Johnny’s face, he isn’t about to argue.

The Prankster and the technician slowly start towards one another, fingers twiddling in anticipation of a lock up. Thanks to only facing each other once in their IWC careers, neither man is fully aware of what the other is about to throw at them.

Neither Evans nor Porno Lad are about to find out however, because the former N.H.B Champion stops and points towards Miyazaki in the corner. He slaps his palms together and demands that Evans bring his partner into the match.

Mark: Porno Lad doesn’t want Evans, he wants Miyazaki. Obviously he has revenge on his mind here tonight.

Evans shrugs, acquiesting to Porno Lad’s request and slapping Miyazaki on the shoulder, tagging him in. Miho doesn’t even have the chance to argue with his partner before Porno Lad bolts across the ring, hooks his/her arm and hip tosses him/her over the top rope.

Miho crashes across his back, about to pay for the little show he/she gave to him at Upping the Ante.

Mark: Porno Lad not waiting, he wants Miho and he wants him, or….errrmmm….her, right now. Damn all this gender ambiguity, it’s too taxing on my mind.

Susie: I never would have thought that Miho had a penis, but it sure does explain my unusual infatuation with him. Plus it makes that conversation I had with my parents a little more awkward. I probably should call them again.

A flabbergasted Miho rushes to his feet, desperate not to get into some type of deficit against the former N.H.B Champion. The moment he reaches his feet, Porno Lad dives in driving the point of his elbow directly into his/her face. The blow knocks both competitors to the canvas, Miyazaki grabbing at her features and rolling towards the ropes.

Porno Lad spins around and crouches in anticipation of his opponent getting up, slapping his knee, already setting up for the Epic Fail.

That’s when Evans drops down behind him, never having fully vacated the ring, and drives his elbow into the back of Porno Lad’s knee. Both legs are taken out from under the Prankster, sending him toppling to his back.

Mark: Evans isn’t foolish. He may not like Miho, but he doesn’t want to lose this match either.

Moore: Why does he have to attack him from behind though? I thought Miho would be more use to doing that type of thing to other men.

A writhing Porno Lad lays on his back gripping at his swelling knee. The sound of BFG’s voice berating Evans from the outside of the ring does little to alleviate the pressure on his leg. Miho steps in, grabs him around the ankle and begins stomping repeatedly at his raised leg, delivering blows to the crease of the knee and to the thigh as well.

Mark: The tandem of Evans and Miho already focusing on a body part.

Miyazaki spins around the leg, setting up for a figure four only to have Porno Lad wedge his free foot to his/her posterior and shove him off. Miho charges across the ring and stops just short of the ropes that Kingdom is standing on the opposite side of.

His fist is cocked pack in the punching position yet he doesn’t follow through. Instead a grin forms on his face and he lifts two fingers into the air separated by mere centimeters, implying that he was “that close” to taking her head off. Miyazaki backs away, with palms defensively raised in the air before turning back towards her rival.

Porno Lad is already starting to get up despite the pain in his ankle before Miyazaki comes charging in. This prompts the Prankster to roll in her direction, causing Miho to have to cartwheel over him, landing gracefully on the canvas then taking off into the ropes.

She bounces off the cables and as she does so, Evans reaches out slapping her back making the blind tag. Miyazaki has no idea as she charges at a rising Porno Lad, who stands just in time to catch her with both hands wedged to his/her gut.

Miho is hoisted into the air but slips off of the palms, over Porno Lad’s shoulder and lands on his/her feet behind him. She wraps her arms around Porno Lad’s waist, going for perhaps a German suplex or a roll up. The Lad plants his feet and then goes charging towards the ropes Evans is still standing on the opposite side of.

He bends forward, driving his shoulder through the cables into Pat’s ribcage and causing Miho’s throat to strike the top rope as she tried to hold on.

Miyazaki bounces off of the ropes into a backwards roll, grabbing at his neck in the process. This gives Porno Lad just the time he needs to use the ropes in aiding himself to his feet and prepare perhaps for the Epic Fail. Once again he finds his attempt thwarted by Evans, who hops to the apron and shows surprising camaraderie by hooking both of Porno Lad’s arms and trapping them behind his back, leaving him entirely exposed for Miho.

Mark: This isn’t good for Porno Lad, he’s trapped in Evans’ clutches, leaving him defenseless.

Susie: Scream rape, Porny Porn, that usually gets me out of any tense situation.

An angered Miyazaki proves she’s not just full of piss and vinegar. He/she rushes across the ring and dives at Porno Lad who clears out of harm’s way at the last second, freeing himself from Evans’ clutches and leaving Pat exposed to a big forearm to the face.

Once again Pat is knocked from the apron while Miyazaki watches on, not in shock, but with a smile. Behind her/his back, Porno Lad is rushing across the ring, slapping Kingdom’s palm then actually interlocking hands with the World Champion.

Johnny slips through the ropes, he and Porno Lad standing side by side as they wait for Miho to turn around. The second she turns towards her opponents they rush across the ring and deliver a double lariat to her throat, taking Miyazaki up and over the ropes to the outside of the ring.

Mark: Both of these teams starting to work together, in particular Porno Lad and Kingdom who just took Miho OUT!

Moore: On a date? That would be such a sausage fest.

Porno Lad finds himself surprised when his hand isn’t released by Kingdom until his partner’s motives become a bit clearer. Johnny reaches out taking the back of Porno Lad’s head, spinning him in a circle then throwing him through the ropes into a suicide dive that connects with both a recovering Evans and Miyazaki, all three bodies tangled up as they collapse to the mats. The fans come out of their feet with an explosion of cheers.

Mark: Kingdom using Porno Lad’s body as a projectile missile, demolishing both opponents.

Porno Lad gets to his knees on the outside mats, holding his head and having trouble figuring out what just happened. All the while Johnny slips through the ropes to the apron, shouting out to his partner. Porno Lad acts quickly, taking Miho by the back of the head and Evans around the neck as well. He drags them both to their feet, wedging their foreheads together and holding them in place.

Now it’s Kingdom turn to go airborne, flying off the apron and connecting with a double axehandle on both opponents.

Pat and Miho fall to a knee before Johnny grabs Miyazaki around the neck, rolling her back into the ring. Just like Miho and Porno Lad, he’s unaware that Evans is actually the legal man, focusing entirely on the shaken up Miho as he enters the ring.

Miyazaki struggles to her feet when the World Champion pops her across the jaw, the blow sending her spiraling towards the ropes. She bounces off of them and comes staggering back towards Kingdom who boots her to the ribs, doubling her over in perfect position for the Exodus Finale.

He locks her in a front chancery and pumps a fist towards the teeming masses.

Mark: He’s going for it. Exodus Finale about to drop Miho right on her or his…..this is too fucking confusing.

Moore: Can we just call Miho a HIRS? It’s a perfect combination of both genders and saves us an awful lot of time.

The crowd anticipates the delivery of Kingdom’s biggest maneuver, waiting on pins and needles to see a quick end to this contest. That’s until Evans slides into the ring behind Johnny and wraps his arms around his throat, applying the Time to Go to Sleep, or at least trying to.

Before he can get the hold established, Kingdom charges backwards, shoving Evans spine first into the nearest turnbuckle. Evans’ back hits the corner hard, causing him to break the hold as Johnny staggers forward, spins around and clinches his fist.

He is just about to deck Evans to the face when Miyazaki scoots up behind the Team Leader and delivers a swift forearm to his most prized possessions. Johnny doubles over, gripping at his family jewels while the referee is busy checking on Pat’s condition.

The moment that Evans spots Johnny’s predicament, he shoves the official aside, steps out of the corner, hooks Kingdom’s arm and hip tosses him spine first right into the turnbuckle. Johnny crashes upside down against the post, bouncing off then tumbling face first into the canvas.

Mark: Ohhh, Miyazaki and Evans may not like each other, but they just got themselves back into this contest in a big way.

The World Champion finds himself in agony as Evans begins to rain boot after boot down into the back of his head. He bounces off of the ropes then jumps into the air, coming down with his fist to the back of Kingdom’s head. The blow knocks Kingdom to the canvas with the crowd cheering his name, trying to get him back into this contest.

Porno Lad stomps his foot and slaps the turnbuckle in a desperate attempt to motivate his partner, BFG’s palms connecting with the apron to rally the fans as well. Johnny is dragged by his chin to his feet then thrown back first into the turnbuckle where Evans delivers a vicious chop across his chest.

The Team Leader tries to protect his sternum with his arms but Evans pushes the hands away and connects with a second chop. A red streak is left across Johnny’s chest and the crowd cannot help but to sound off with a loud “woo.”

Comeau: Chop after chop being delivered to Kingdom’s sternum. And these are no normal chops, they’re being delivered with such aggression and force by Evans they could probably take down a redwood.

Susie: Evans does look like a lumberjack, meaning he’s unwashed and unshaved, all he needs now is one of those flannel shirt. He could have one of mine, I bought a whole bunch when I thought I was becoming a lesbian by being attracted to Miho. Now I have to get rid of all of them, and that strap-on.

Evans wraps his arms around Johnny’s waist, dragging him out of the turnbuckle then powering him spine first right back into it. He almost spears him against the corner, causing his ribs and lower back to take the brunt of the punishment.

Pat stands up and makes the tag, slapping Miho’s raised hand. She pulls herself over the top rope and drops into a forward roll across the canvas. She ends up on her feet in the center of the ring then comes barreling at Johnny, throwing herself spine first directly into his body.

The impact causes Kingdom to double over while Miho places him in a side headlock, delivering a quick punch to the top of his head.

The blow causes him to stand up and fall spine first against the very turnbuckle that has been quite unkind to him throughout this match.

Miyazaki looks to continue putting the pressure on the wounded Team Leader, stepping to the center of the ring kicking back his/her hair then charging once again at her wounded opposition. She lunges into the air, places her feet to Johnny’s chest and wraps one hand around the back of his head. With her other hand she slaps Evans’ palm, bringing him back into this contest.

She drops back, monkey flipping Johnny across the ring where he eventually slams spine first against the canvas. Almost the second that Kingdom hits the canvas, Evans is rushing into the ropes at his side, bouncing off them then flying forward into a headbunt to the Team Leader’s sternum.

Mark: Evans and Miho continuing to show some continuity which I don’t think anybody was expecting.

Susie: I did, because they both look like emos. They probably hang out with Michelle Blacker behind the building smoking cigarettes and writing bad poetry after the shows. And they probably wouldn’t even let me join them.

Comeau: You write poetry, Susie?

Moore: Yep, I write it in macaroni noodles.

Evans stands up then leaps into the air, coming down foot first directly into Johnny’s face. The heel of his boot grates against Kingdom’s eyes, causing him to sit up grabbing at his face thanks to the trauma. The former number one contender approaches his corner where he tags Miho’s outstretched hand.

Miyazaki slips through the ropes and rushes into the cables in front of a seated Kingdom. She bounces off just as Kingdom falls to his back, trying to give her a taste of his own medicine with a monkey flip. He/she jumps over Johnny’s feet and tucks into a forward roll across the canvas.

He/she ends on his/her feet and charges into the opposite ropes as Johnny struggles to his feet in front of her. Miyazaki comes back in with a lariat that is avoided by a timely duck from the World Champion, who now takes off into the cables himself.

The Team Leader ricochets from the cables and comes back in at Miyazaki who lunges into the air, delivering a spinning heel kick. Her boot meets the Team Leader right against the teeth, knocking them almost out of his mouth and knocking his body back down to the canvas.

Mark: Miho a little too quick for the Team Leader on that exchange.

After delivering the kick, Miho stands up and feels obligated to brag. He/she turns towards Porno Lad in the corner and gives him a crotch chop. The gesture is particularly unsettling to Porno Lad, who suddenly feels a strong need to shower.

Susie: How days hirs….from my understanding, only forty year old men acting like teenagers are allowed to make that gesture.

Mark: Again Susie showing a vague knowledge of wrestling. I’m stunned.

Moore: I did? Now I feel like I need to take a bath.

Although he’s down, Johnny won’t stay that way for long. He’s already turning to his elbows and knees, trying to get up, which prompts Miho to tag back in her ace in the hole. Evans quickly charges at Johnny, taking him around the jaw, leading him up to his feet and delivering a brutal forearm strike that knocks him back down to the canvas.

The blow has Kingdom’s head rattled, eyes awkwardly blinking as he tries to remain conscious. Evans makes this all the more difficult by pulling down the padding and dropping an exposed knee directly into Kingdom’s forehead.

Johnny sits up on instinct, palming his injured skull, which has become the focal point of his enemies. Evans demonstrates as much by delivering a straight stomping blow directly to the back of the Team Leader’s cranium.

Once again Porno Lad starts putting his hands together and stomping his foot to the apron. BFG joins in with the ruckus, both men anxiously trying to rally the fans in support of Johnny, perhaps filling him with the energy to fight out of this predicament.

The reaction from the crowd is inconsequential to Kingdom, it’s his ego that compels him to start standing up. Even as Evans steps in and elbows him to the back of the head, Johnny will not stay down. He begins to reach his feet when Pat bends down, wedges his shoulder to the Team Leader’s chest and tries to power him backwards into the corner.

However, Kingdom lifts his feet into the air, kicking them back and placing them against the very turnbuckle Evans was attempting to drive him into. Johnny kicks off, slips over Evans shoulder and down his back, catching him around the waist in the process and pulling him over into the sunset flip.

1

2

A shocked Pat is not stunned enough to be subdued by the pinfall. He kicks out, rolling over backwards to his knees while the Team Leader stands up in front of him and goes instinctively for the punt kick to his opponent’s face.

Just before the boot could connect with Pat’s skull, Evans catches hold of it, twisting Johnny’s leg around as he goes for the ankle lock.

Mark: Kingdom should have went for the tag, not his finisher, and now it’s going to cost him big.

The Team Leader is literally moments from being forced to tap out or have his career shortened in Evans’ textbook submission hold. He goes a third option however, turning his back to Evans then lunging into the air. He reaches back with his free leg, tucking it under Evans’ armpit and pulling him down into a forward roll.

Johnny ends up seated on Pat’s chest, holding down the back of his legs for the pinfall.

Comeau: What a reversal of fortunes!

Susie: Good, now he should buy a vowel.

Mark: Not Wheel of Fortun….oh to hell with you.

The referee slides into position, making the count to screams from the packed Manhattan Center.

1

2

Evans kicks out just before the three, sending Kingdom rolling backwards across the ring and to his feet once again. He then turns and lunges towards his corner, slapping the outstretched hand of Porno Lad.

Mark: Kingdom with the tag on a well rested Porno Lad. Is the tide about to come in for Evans and Miyazaki?

Susie: I hope not, it’ll totally destroy my sandcastle.

Evans turns around in shock as Porno Lad springs off the top rope. Pat comes charging in only for Porno Lad to connect with a big springboard shoulder block that sends him flipping over upon impact and landing on his seat. Miho tries to take advantage of that seated position, illegally entering the ring and charging at him to drive a knee into his face.

Porno Lad catches her around the leg before her strike could connect and drops back, pulling her down with him. Miho is tripped forward, landing on her chest with Porno Lad standing up behind her, rolling through into a Boston Leg Crab.

Miyazaki is already screaming and lifting her palm into the air, on the verge of tapping out.

Mark: Boston Crab applied, Porno Lad seconds from submitting.

Moore: I hope she knows she-he would have been screaming in pleasure, not pain, if we went through with that three way at the pay-per-view.

Miho’s fingers continue to twiddle above the canvas, moments from tapping out to Porno Lad’s submission before Evans intervenes. Oddly enough he races to his partner’s assistance, throwing a lariat that is avoided by a last second side step by his intended target.

Porno Lad catches Pat around the bicep, drags him to the canvas and leans back into the fujiwara.

Mark: Another submission by Porno Lad, who has dropped all the antics and is all business here tonight.

Moore: But he’s not even wearing a tie, and he doesn’t have a briefcase. I bought him a briefcase once, it was filled with candy.

Comeau: How delightful.

The piercing roar of Evans fills the Manhattan Center as his fingers form a tight fist, trying not to submit. Porno Lad’s preoccupation with Evans gives Miho just the time she needed to reach her feet. Although her leg may be hurting, she takes off into the ropes, bounces from the cables and then flips over top of Porno Lad’s head, catching him with a seated blockbuster.

The neckbreaker variation causes Porno Lad to release his opponent then roll around on the canvas gripping at his neck. Miho lands on her seat, looking proud of himself before Johnny barrels across the squared circle and drops into a sliding lariat.

His bicep connects to Miho’s throat, knocking her to the canvas and giving the fans cause once more to cheer. Their reaction changes as Johnny gets to a knee, providing Evans with the perfect opportunity to charge in and deliver a shinning boot to the side of the Team Leader’s face.

The kick seemingly renders Kingdom unconscious, his body convulsing on the canvas while Evans rolls to his feet.

Mark: Bodies laying everywhere as the pace of this tag team collision really begins to pick up.

Susie: Get up Porno Lad, GET UP. I didn’t give you all those vitamins backstage for nothing, sure, they may actually be pez, but you should still be feeding off that energy boost.

After connecting with a move he rarely busts out, Evans employs the ropes to reach his feet, beginning to suffer the fatigue of this fast paced encounter. He stands up in time to spot Porno Lad struggling towards his feet. The former N.H.B Champion grips at the back of his neck in a lot of pain as Evans charges up behind him and clamps both arms about his waist.

He snaps back almost immediately into the bridging German suplex. Porno Lad is dumped right onto the back of his neck and shoulders as the official drops down to make the count.

1

2

Porno Lad launches a shoulder from the canvas, preventing defeat by mere seconds.

Although peeved Evans still has his wits about him, eyes transferring to the corner where Miho has recovered. Her hand is outstretched, anxious for a tag to be made. Evans gets to his feet and sneers in Miyazaki’s direction, uninterested in bringing her back into the action.

Miyazaki looks a tad flustered by Pat’s refusal to tag her in, causing Miho to grate her teeth and stew with rage. Pat turns his focus towards both the World Heavyweight Champion and the Original Prankster. He toys with the audience at this point by pointing to one, gauging their reaction, then pointing to the other, forcing them to select who receives his wrath.

He elicits no cheers for either selection, but decides that Kingdom is the one who shall take the brunt of his punishment. He starts towards Johnny, snatches him around the head and forces it under his seat. The crowd is already pleading with him not to follow through, realizing that Evans is about to subject the Team Leader to his crucifix bomb variation.

Mark: Evans moments away from perhaps finishing off the World Heavyweight Champion and it doesn’t look like Kingdom has the strength to counter.

Susie: Dammit, I knew I should have given him some pez too.

Porno Lad spots this from the corner of his eye as he uses the cables as a crutch to stand, but there is nothing he can do about it. That is until BFG reaches through the ropes behind him, and uses all his strength to shove Porno Lad towards Evans.

At the last second Porno Lad steps off of Kingdom’s slouched forward back and launches himself into the air, landing on Evans’ shoulders and pulling him around into a hurricarana. The fans jump out of their seats at the sight of that amazing maneuver, which sends Pat flipping towards his corner.

Mark: AMAZING!

Susie: I think that just gave me an orgasm.

Comeau: It amazes me how far Porno Lad has come in such a short amount of time.

The fans are slapping the barricades and stomping their feet as Evans rolls towards Miyazaki. She takes it upon herself to slap his shoulder, tagging herself into this match. Although dazed, Pat still looks enraged by Miyazaki’s cockine…..actually that’s probably not the best word to use….arrogance….there, that’s better and far less suggestive.

He watches as Miho climbs to the top rope above him and prepares for flight. Kingdom is surprisingly assisting his partner to his feet even though he’s never been much of a team player, which would certainly contradict that whole Team Leader moniker.

Both men stand and dust themselves off before Miyazaki flies from the top rope, soaring half way across the ring and crashing into them both with a stereo lariat.

She/he finds herself stunned though when her maneuver fails to connect on either man. They both duck down out of the way, causing Miho to land on her feet behind them and instinctively take off into the ropes. She bounces from the cables, coming back in at Johnny and Porno Lad who turn in time to duck down for a double back drop.

Miyazaki shocks them both by taking them around their necks and dropping back into a stereo DDT.

The champion and former NHB champion crash to the canvas with Miyazaki landing between them. She throws her arms out to his side and smiles as wide as his/her face will allow, basking in the boos of a decidedly pro Porno Lad and Kingdom audience.

Mark: Miho with a nice maneuver there taking down both his/her opponents with that DDT…..hey, hold on now, what is Evans doing?

Susie: Taking a shower I hope.

Instead of standing in his corner, Pat now occupies the rampway. One half of the IWC Tag Team Title belts are draped over his shoulder and a smirk resides on his face.

Comeau: Where’s he going?

Moore: Back to his trashcan on Sesame Street?

The audience is just as confused as Miho, who stands up in the ring throwing her arms out to her sides for a much different reason. She/he isn’t showboating, instead Miyazaki is demonstrating just how baffled she is by Evans’ behavior.

Miho: Where you go? We have match?

Although Miyazaki was willing to overlook the injustice Evans committed against her earlier in the evening she now finds her faith in him betrayed. Evans is completely unwilling to re-enter the ring, shouting right back at Miho, and saying all the words she doesn’t want to hear.

Pat: You made your bed, time to sleep in it.

Obviously Evans is alluding to the fact that Miho was so anxious to get back in the ring, and now it’s time for her to suffer for such eagerness. Miyazaki cuts loose with a mixture of insults spoken in both Asian and American dialect. Evans can’t understand her, nor does he even try to. All the while behind Miyazaki’s back a recovered Kingdom has dragged Porno Lad by his wrist into their corner.

Clearly Johnny’s recuperative abilities were a little stronger than Porno Lad’s on this evening, or perhaps the prankster’s collision with the canvas was a tad nastier. The Team Leader reaches over the ropes and a half conscious Porno Lad slaps his hand, bringing him back into the match.

Kingdom quickly rushes across the ring and drops to his back, pretending to still be unconscious after that DDT delivered moments ago. An infuriated Miyazaki turns around, eyes brazen with rage over Evans’ double cross. She/he looks to take out her/his frustrations on Kingdom, storming towards him and perhaps looking to unleash her dreaded vertibreaker, should she have the strength to hoist the champion over her back that is.

His mind is feeling with a series of depraved thoughts, sadistic plots to undo her comatose opposition. She stoops forward, taking him around the neck when Johnny suddenly reaches up, hooks her around the neck and the knee and pulls her down into a small package.

1

2

3!

The crowd jumps from their seats, unleashing a deafening roar.

Mark: Hahaha, Kingdom suckered her in and got the pin!

Susie: He’s such a talented actor. He should play a retard in a movie and win an academy award.

Comeau: All he’d have to do to prepare for the role is follow you around a few weeks, Susie.

Moore: I don’t get it.

Mark: Exactly. But who cares, because Kingdom has just picked up the win for his team thanks to that unexpected small package.

Miyazaki sits up on the canvas, eyes as wide as globes. She/he cannot believe that she was so easily duped by the World Champion, who has already rolled to his knees in the midst of celebrating. He stands up just as Porno Lad grabs him by the shoulder and spins him around, getting in his face.

Porno Lad: HEY! You stole my shtick.

Porno Lad is referencing the fact that cheap wins, based off hilarious antics, is supposed to be his gimmick. Despite his anger over infringement, Porno Lad grabs the World Champion by his wrist and lifts his arm up into the air, the two celebrating.

Evans watches from the outside of the ring but shows a surprising lack of interest. Obviously he didn’t care about winning here tonight, his only goal being to drop the hammer on Kingdom, to continue where the two left off at Upping the Ante. A smarmy smirk resides on his face as Johnny and Porno Lad continue their celebration.

Mark: Another wild night of IWC action ending with a victory for Porno Lad and the Team Leader. But this win does not go without some form of controversy, big shock there, considering that Pat Evans all but ditched his partner. I think this is a reoccurring motif in our tag matches lately.

Susie: If I knew what motif meant, I’d probably agree with you.

A tense stare is beamed from Kingdom’s eyes to Evans’ face at ringside. Pat is unphased by the most menacing of menacing glares, realizing that his path will cross Johnny’s once again, perhaps sooner rather than later.

At Porno Lad’s behest, his good friend BFG climbs to the apron and into the ring, joining in on the festivities. His portly body waddles across the ring clapping his hands as the fat rolls under his biceps jiggle almost hypnotically. Porno Lad pats him on the shoulder, the two clapping towards the always smug Kingdom.

Johnny doesn’t turn to acknowledge the pear, although he adores having his ego stroked, instead he’s pointing at Evans at ringside, promising the Tag Team Champion that he won’t be able to evade him forever.

Mark: This has to be a somewhat feel good moment for Kingdom and Porno Lad who have rebounded in a big way after the humiliation of Upping the Ante. These two are right back on track.

BFG grabs Porno Lad’s wrist and raises it into the air, pointing in his direction to a Manhattan Center shaking ovation. He continues to point at his employer and good friend before pulling him by the wrist into a short arm clothesline.

Mark: WHOOOAAA!

Susie: HEEEEEYYY!

Johnny doesn’t even pick up on the change in the crowd’s tone until it’s too late, BFG charging up behind him and delivering a double axehandle to his upper back. The blow knocks Johnny chest first into the cables before he bounces off and tumbles to the canvas.

Mark: What is BFG doing? He just attacked Kingdom and his best friend, Porno Lad! I thought these two had worked out their differences.

Moore: Hopefully he isn’t go try and eat my boyfriend. Just think of all those calories.

The crowd is jumping all over BFG’s case as the loyal bodyguard has transformed into a turncoat. He grabs Porno Lad by the hair, sitting him up on the canvas and decks him right between the eyes, showing no remorse for his former employer. At the same time Miyazaki has rushed towards a kneeling Kingdom and delivers a lariat to the back of his head, knocking him down to the canvas once again.

The vengeful Miho stands up and begins to deliver stomp after stomp to Johnny’s head.

Mark: Now Miho joining in on this assault. Can’t we have at least one show that ends on a good note?

The angry reaction from the crowd only grows louder as the beat-down escalates, BFG placing his boot on Porno Lad’s throat, strangling the life out of him. The referee tries to drag Miho off of Kingdom but he’s shoved down to the canvas and out of the ring.

The smile on Pat Evans’ face widens as he watches this brutality continue, finding some amusement out of watching Kingdom get his comeuppance. The grin is removed from his face by a forearm to the upper back, delivered by Katie Steward. She, Robin Brooks, Katelyn Buehler, Paris Dannon, Jackson Adams, and Autumn Daniels all charge towards the ring, laying Evans out for getting in their way.

Mark: And here comes the rest of Robin’s alliance. This is turning into a damned mugging.

Susie: Where were all these women when Porny and I put out a casting call for our porno? Noooow they want to show up.

Autumn, Katelyn and Paris join in with BFG, delivering stomps to Porno Lad’s prone body. Katie and Robin make a B-line towards Kingdom, anxious to get their hands on the subdued World Champion. Meanwhile, on the outside of the ring, Adams has led Evans to his feet, taken him by the back of the head and now charges him at the stairs. Before Evans can put up any type of resistance, he’s thrown head first directly into the steel.

His skull thuds off of the steps and his body falls motionless across the mats, where he’s immediately laid into with stomp after stomp. Jackson is obviously taking out his frustrations on the man who cost him the X-Class Title earlier tonight.

Mark: Even Pat Evans couldn’t escape the wrath of the Brat Pack. But hey….look!

Inside of the ring Kingdom and Porno Lad are somehow mounting a comeback. Johnny is already to one knee, delivering jabs to the stomach of Brooks and then doing the same to Steward. Porno Lad on the other hand has grabbed Buehler by the creases of her knees, ripping her legs out from under her, then crawling on top of his ex, raining down with right hands to her face.

Shockingly the Team Leader is on his feet, hitting anything that moves. He swats all the pests around him, desperately trying to hold his own.

Mark: The will power of both Porno Lad and Johnny Kingdom is amazing, they’re somehow fighting back against this army.

Moore: I knew those vitamins would kick in eventually.

The fans are solidly behind the duo, who despite the overwhelming odds are holding their own. Kingdom continues nailing right hands on anybody within arm’s range up until the point that he’s spun around and dragged down to the canvas with a diamond cutter.

The sight of Savior connecting with the cutter on Kingdom has the fans on the verge of jumping the barricades and starting a full-scale riot.

Mark: Christian, now Christian coming out here and hitting Kingdom with that cutter, as if the Brat Pack actually needed anymore help.

Savior sits up on the canvas admiring his handiwork for only a moment until he realizes that his life is also in peril. Brooks, Steward and Miho come charging at him only for Savior to high tail it. He rolls under the ropes to the outside and begins backing up the ramp, holding his palms defensively in the air.

Comeau: The Brat Pack going after everyone tonight, good or evil, it doesn’t matter to them apparently.

Susie: But what if you have a vagina? That should make you and I safe right?

Mark: Ugh.

The cutter has shut down all of Kingdom’s defenses, leaving him exposed to the boots and forearms of the Brat Pack. He suffers a variety of shots from this massive contingent. Porno Lad’s offense is shut down as well thanks to Autumn stepping over his back and digging her finger nails into his eye sockets.

He unleashes a primal roar of anguish as he’s dragged off of Buehler and then kicked to the jaw by Dannon. The blow knocks him to his spine, but he’s only on his back for a moment. Almost immediately both of his legs are snatched up into the grips of Autumn and Paris, who roll him to his stomach and step over the creases of his knees.

Porno Lad is now subjected to a double Bostom Leg Crab by two separate assailants. Johnny’s fate is equally as cruel, Robin grabbing his legs, swinging around them and dropping back into the figure four leg lock.

Mark: I don’t believe what we’re seeing. I’ve never before witnessed Kingdom and Porno Lad in this type of predicament. Their absolutely powerless against the Brat Pack.

Jackson slides into the ring assisting with the melee, his palm engulfing Johnny’s throat, choking the life out of him while his legs are mangled by the figure four. On the outside of the ring Evans is desperately trying to use the steps to pull himself to his feet

He just starts to stand, albeit in horrid pain and stagger away from the steps when Savior barrels across the mats and almost rips him in two with the spear.

Mark: Nooo, now the spear on Evans by that scavenger Savior. He’s devouring the scraps left to him by the Brat Pack.

The pain coursing through Evans’ body is now excruciating. He rolls to his side, arms wrapped around his mid-section while Savior still lingers above him. Christian stares down at his rival, and now the co-holder of his tag team titles.

Inside of the ring Kingdom is now only subjected to the figure four, the strangulation and a series of stomps but the shrill screams of the Black Widow.

Robin: You think this is bad Johnny, do you, do you!?! Well just wait till I come after your World Title.

She drops back putting further pressure on the legs. All the while BFG rushes into the cables, bounces off and the Brat Pack clears out of the way so that he can big splash the World Champion. Johnny gags and gasps for air, the immense weight coming down on top of him perhaps imploding everyone of his vital organs.

He is still trapped in the figure four, much like Porno Lad remains locked in the double Boston Crab. He desperately tries to crawl across the ring instinctively going for the ropes before BFG steps in and delivers a big splash to the back of his head and upper spine.

Christian: Johnny…..oooooh JOOOOHHHNNNYYY….

A microphone is now gripped in Christian’s hand as he stands directly in front of the announce table.

Mark: What does Christian have to say now? Isn’t this already bad enough?

Savior: I hope you can hear me….in fact….I hope your all paying attention.

He points towards those in the ring and even towards the fans who heckle him so.

Christian: Because my announcement affects each and everyone of you, it affects the entire WORLD! People want to know if Simon and I had an arrangement? Well it’s time to let the cat out of the bag, we DID.

The jeers become even louder as Savior continues speaking the beat-down becomes even more heinous in the ring.

Savior: Cagero may pander to you idiots, but he’s not above making unpopular decisions, which is what motivated him to come to me with a proposition. He and I realized that we simply couldn’t chance either Riggs or Porno Lad becoming King for a Day, given their biased decision making. So we agreed that if either one of us had the opportunity to pick up the win then we would allow that person to pick up the pinfall. If I were about to win, Simon wouldn’t interject, if he were about to win, I’d make sure he did and nobody interfered…..

Although neither Porno Lad or Kingdom are conscious, Christian continues making his startling revelation.

Savior: But why? Why would I agree to anything that Cagero pitched me? It’s simple really, because I stood to benefit from it. The agreement was that if Simon or I won, and stuck to our arrangement, that the man who had a hand in assisting the other to victory would not only be awarded the match of their choosing, but….here’s the kicker…..he would be announced as the next King for a Day….

All the alarms are sounding in the minds of the fans.

Savior: So do you get it now? Well do you?

The ear drum popping boos tell Christian that the fans are indeed following along.

Christian: I got together with Simon earlier tonight and although he may loathe me, believe me the feeling is mutual, we got it all finalized. Meaning that next week, I’LL be King for a Day….hahahahaha.

Mark: Oh no, oh God no!

Christian’s cackles drive the fans into a murderous rage. Not only have Kingdom and Porno Lad been subjected to torture at the hands of the Brat Pack, but now they suffer mental torture at the thought of Christian being in control next week.

Mark: What an unsettling conclusion to Riot! Johnny and Porno Lad being brutally assaulted and the revelation made that Christian Savior will be next week’s King for a Day.

The final scenes from this week’s edition of Riot! are the grotesque images of Porno Lad being locked in two Bostom Crabs, BFG and Katelyn hand in hand above him, Kingdom locked in the figure four by a malicious Black Widow, and a close up of Savior’s laughing face.

FADE TO BLACK