OPENING VIDEO PACKAGE

RIOT!

AN IMPERIAL PACK

Before any pyrotechnics, any generic Mark Comeau, Susie Moore bickering, the classic Star Wars Imperial March kicks in, making the fans positively giddy. The crowd becomes so imbued with excitement that they almost lactate from their tingling nipples. Their over the top reaction, so flamboyant it would even make Johnny B. Badd blush, is well justified due to the arrival of the newly reunited Empire.

The World Heavyweight Title glistens over the shoulder of Johnny, while his teeth sparkle equally as bright. Trailing behind him is the Master of Control and long time acquaintance, Hurse, his nose buried in a SCW magazine featuring a centerfold of one Katie Steward. As he ogles the images on the page with sweat streaming down his face, Hurse doesn’t even spot Kingdom’s inbound hand until it’s knocked the magazine from his palms.

Finally, bringing up the rear, towering over his teammates is the hired gun himself, the man with a sickening addiction to revenue, AWOL. The Big Crazy Bastard dwarfs not only his associates, but the fans, who seem like timid ants as the former World Champion stomps by them.

Mark: Ladies and gentlemen, we’re kicking things off tonight with the EMPIRE! This is Mark Comeau, joined by Susie Moore, if you can’t hear us, don’t worry, your not going deaf…..

Susie: Shooo, thank God. I thought that army soldier I snorted up my nose did damage to my eardrums or something.

Comeau: How is that physically even….to hell with it….ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as the deafening roar of this crowd. They’ve been waiting all week to see and get an explanation from this newly reunited trio. Something tells me that we’re going to get that explanation now, and find out what the Empire has in store for the rest of the night with Hurse at the helm as King for a Day?

Moore: If I were him, I’d make a decree that every wrestler be accompanied to the ring by their favorite stuffed plushie. Just like Giant Golga.

Kingdom, AWOL and Hurse continue to be the source of much ballyhoo, the crowd enlivened by the very men who share over six ULW/IWC World Title reigns between them. The hall of famers descend upon the ring where Johnny takes a mic and tries to bring some order to the lunacy.

Kingdom: Six years.

He can barely get his words out, the fans in desperate need of some oxygen masks as they continue their non-stop screaming.

Johnny: Six of the looooongest years of our lives….

The Team Leader gestures between himself and his long time cohorts.

Kingdom: That’s how long we’ve been at this. That’s how long we’ve been doing our thing. Perfecting our craft. Killing ourselves, and killing each other right here in the center of this ring.

Now the only thing Johnny gestures towards is the canvas beneath his laced up wrestling boots.

Johnny: SIX YEARS! JESUS CHRIST, has it really been that long?

He has to confirm this by gauging the reaction of his teammates. AWOL and Hurse have much the same response, shrugs and head nodding. The thought positively makes Kingdom’s cranium split.

Kingdom: No…..seriously? We’ve been doing this for six years?

More head nodding, more shoulder shrugging.

Johnny: WOW. While one part of me finds that incredibly sad, another part of me is grateful that after six years, the house that we built, is still standing, and the doors have always remained open for our return. For our overhyped comebacks and are rise to prominence. Granted sometimes we had to jiggle the locks a little and use a credit card to break into our own home.

Moore: I just use a rock. Which sucks when I find out I’m at the wrong house.

Kingdom: See, some people thought they could change the locks, refurbish our household and keep us out. Nuh-nuh, we’re expert locksmiths….we always find our way back, and we always find our way to the top.

Hurse and AWOL are still nodding, but out of pride instead of confirmation.

Johnny: And you see, that’s just the thing, anyway you repackage it, any new décor you throw on the walls, it’s just window dressing, because the IWC will always be OUR house. For six years we’ve owned this place, we’ve had the keys to the, no pun intended, kingdom. And we’re not about to stand idly by while intruders attempt to steal those keys, break into our home, and vandalize everything we spent so long building. People such as Savior, or Brooks or Buehler, aren’t going to leave a steaming pile on the braided rug. Seriously, Christian Savior?.....The Brat Pack?

Johnny finds himself almost dumbfounded while Hurse sympathetically rubs his shoulders and tries to convince him that all is well.

Kingdom: These are the people that the IWC is attempting to remodel with? Nyyyyyyooooo, don’t think so. Our home isn’t going to become the eyesore of the neighborhood. We’re not going to let the Parade of Human Oddities 2009 edition ruin a company we’ve already staked our reputations upon. So it would be a humiliation to the IWC, and as a result, a blow to our good names, if we were to let people like Christian, or the Skank Pack run around here acting as if they’re legitimate threats to the World title. Their success would suck any legitimacy out of our World Title reigns and our marketability.

Although his words drip with egotism, the crowd licks it up like kittens drinking milk from a saucer.

Johnny: Frankly, I can still get a lot of use out of this face….

Kingdom motions to his sparkling good looks.

Kingdom: Just imagine the endorsements I could make with teeth this sparkly?

His teeth are bright enough to light an airport runway.

Johnny: I could sell a shit-sickle to an obsessive compulsive woman in white gloves. But wait, my celebrity status and any potential endorsements hinge on my wrestling career. It’s the same for AWOL and Hurse. And frankly, AWOL could really, really use the money these endorsements are offering….

AWOL rolls his eyes, not enjoying the constant reminders of his financial follies.

Johnny: And there in lies the problem. How are guys like us going to make a lucrative career post wrestling, selling you thigh masters and sham-wows, if our fame was linked to a company with guys like Christian Savior as World Heavyweight Champion? Mainstream media wouldn’t even touch us with a ten foot pole if we allowed that happened. They would deem us mediocre, and see our achievements in wrestling as meaningless. For guys our age, it’s a risk we just can’t take. After six years we weren’t about to let our names become devalued while the title and the company are degraded by pathetic champions undeserving of any type of recognition.

The mic is handed off this time into the waiting palm of Hurse, who eagerly finishes Kingdom’s thought.

Hurse: So this year, 2009, the Empire reformed not out of mere self preservation, or because we’ll make a killing off the merchandizing….

AWOL motions to the brand new Empire t-shirt adorning his frame.

Hurse: We came together to make sure our house wasn’t condemned. We united to ensure that the IWC still stood for something honorable. That it was still based on talent, that it was still a company representative of the absolute best, instead of the absolute forgettable. We formed this group to save you people the burden of years of therapy and thousands of anti-depressants as you try to deal with the pain of yet another Brat Pack World Title reign. So yes, cheer, thank us for our sacrifice, and most importantly, make sure to hit the souvenir stand after the show and purchase our brand new Empire toboggans.

A black ski cap is removed from Hurse’s pocket and shook about, the word “Empire” written upon the fabric with a magic marker. The microphone continues to be passed around like a hot potato, now being forced upon AWOL. He acts as if he has nothing to add but Hurse is adamant that he give some type of comment during this historic address. He finally agrees to Hurse’s terms and with a shrug makes his motivations blatantly obvious.

AWOL: Ummmmm, yeah, I’m pretty much just doing this for the money….

Kingdom and Hurse implore AWOL to be a bit more expressive.

AWOL: Okay, fine. Plus, I really, really hate whores.

It dawns on both men that this is the best explanation they’ll get out of AWOL, so Hurse reclaims control of the microphone and proceeds.

Hurse: Don’t we all? Speaking of which, TONIGHT, the Empire is not only back, but in control, and we’ve got a few things in store for the Brat Pack……

“The Game” hits the PA system and leads to a reaction from the crowd as devastating as a tsunami. The stare beamed to the stage from each member of the Empire is equally as deadly. Of course Robin Brooks doesn’t show up alone, the Brat Pack and their circle of friends storming to the stage in mass.

Mark: And here comes the killjoy.

Moore: That greasy guy with that whole Seattle grunge look?

Comeau: No, not him. I’m referencing the army gathered on the stage, being led by the Black Widow and Jackson Adams.

Indeed Adams has joined his colleagues, standing on one side of Robin while Katie Steward is located on the other. Despite the “mishap” that occurred last week during the World Title reign, Jackson has received forgiveness for his indiscretions and the Brat Pack has never looked more united. Paris, Katelyn, BFG and Miho are all drawn around their spokeswoman, the deadly Black Widow.

Robin: Ha…..ha-ha….HAHAHAHAHA.

Brooks slaps her knee and almost falls over, Steward forced to prop her up.

Brooks: Hahahaha, you guys….I swear….your soooo friggin funny!

AWOL, Hurse and Kingdom smirk a little, pretty proud of their own efforts.

Robin: You’re hysterical, totally hysterical. When you said that you reunited the Empire to save the IWC, I almost wet myself. Seriously, there’s probably a puddle in my panties.

Kingdom: You know they created tampons for that.

Brooks: And they created strong medication for senility, I suggest you three pick up a prescription, because if you expected anyone to buy that tripe you’ve seriously gone off the deep end. Everyone, even these dense people, know that you only came together because you were scaaaaareeeed.

Johnny mockingly nibbles on his fingertips.

Robin: You knew that you weren’t strong enough as individuals to overcome us, so you joined forces in a DESPERATE attempt to hold onto your precious spots. This whole “reunion” came about cause you couldn’t handle being outshined and outclassed by the most gorgeous, vivacious, and talented competitors to ever step foot in an IWC ring.

Jackson winks to a few female audience members while flexing his pecs.

Brooks: You’re trying your best to remain relevant even though the spotlight has already passed you by. Your best years are behind you. Face it, fess up to the truth, look in a mirror. Admit your weak, admit your past your prime, admit that the Brat Pack is THE most dominate force in the entire wrestling universe, and admit that alone you couldn’t match up to us.

The trio in the ring deliberates, gathering in a huddle as they discuss their options. Finally they break with a clapping of the hands and Kingdom speaks for his group.

Kingdom: Hmmm….NAAAHHH.

Brooks and the rest of the group roll their eyes, both at the sound of Johnny’s voice and his reluctance to embrace his short comings.

Johnny: Your lame, generic statements just proved our point for us. You don’t deserve to run this show, but as long as you have so many people buying into your BS….

Brooks: That’s right, they do believe in Katie and I. The Brat Pack was built on domination, and that’s precisely what we’ve shown. We’ve DOMINATED everyone in the SCW, and everyone here in the IWC. So much in fact that you three brittle old crones had to unite just to stand a chance against us.

Kingdom: I think we proved we stand more than a chance last week.

The riot from last week that ended with the Empire standing defiant against the Brat Pack unsettles all those on the stage.

Kingdom: We weren’t brought together out of fear, but necessity. Congratulations, you ladies have so many untalented wrestlers at your beckon call that it be impossible for one man to fend them all off. But now that the Empire is back together, we don’t have to worry about an endless horde of jobbers, and we can give the fans what they want. A REAL power stable, not dependent on numbers, but talent!

Jackson: PSSSAH! YEAH RIGHT!

Jackson’s exclaimed words has the same effect on everyone, allies included, a sudden bout of nausea. The fact that Robin had the microphone snatched from her clutches, gives her another reaction as well, rage.

Adams: Just cause you three have held the World Heavyweight Title, it gives you no right to pass judgment on this woman.

Some of the rage and repulsion diminishes within Brooks. Obviously she’ll accept a compliment from anyone, including a rattlesnake just before it strikes.

Jackson: The last person who should be chastising Robin about talent, is you Kingdom. Mr. Overrated! The guy who couldn’t even carry my jockstrap when I was the leader of the Empire!

Kingdom and AWOL exchange a quick glance, simultaneously wondering what Jackson’s been snorting backstage.

Adams: A guy so terrified by my talent, that he didn’t even offer me a spot in the group I BUILT and I made famous, cause he knew I would once again overshadow him. That tends to happen when you’re the only person in a stable with charisma. I can’t help that I’m so utterly charming, I just can’t turn it off, but it’s no reason to segregate and shun me.

Buehler taps Robin on the shoulder, whispering her concerns to the Black Widow. After a nod the Black Widow realizes that Jackson is indeed outraged that he wasn’t included into the Empire, perhaps too outraged.

Johnny: Wow….just wow.

Johnny is almost too dumbfounded to even offer much in the way of a comeback.

Kingdom: I can’t believe I’m seriously about to waste my time responding to those comments. I don’t even think your grandmother would buy your tall tales Adams. You pretty much lost any faith she had in you when you insinuated that you have charisma. I think a dog’s ass has more charisma than you, Jackson, and probably better mic skills too.

Adams: Go ahead, ridicule me, Johnny. As long as you’re targeting me you can’t drag this beautiful woman’s name through the mud. You won’t have the chance to treat our Queen like a common peasant, as so many sailors, and so many marines, and pretty much anyone in a uniform, including Roberto the janitor, have done in the back alley of plenty a Red Lobster.

Brooks is overwhelmed with the sudden compulsion to introduce her finger nails to Jackson’s eyes.

Jackson: So seriously, lay off, stop with your ignorant, misinformed insults, and recognize the skills this woman possesses, skills that took you to the limit TWICE, skills many a janitors have put to the test.

Johnny doesn’t like to be reminded that Brooks came within an eyelash of winning the World Title, not once, but twice.

Adams: And stop with the idle threats too. Suuuuuree, Hurse is King for a Day, big deal. He’ll fuck it up just like he fucks up everything he does in that ring.

Now its Hurse’s chance to react, and he takes full advantage of the spotlight by pretending to weep.

Jackson: I’d like to see him TRY, yeah, yeah, TRRRRY to mess with Robin’s match tonight, just so she can prove how talented she is by overcoming the odds and proving you three wrong. Hell, you could even go as far as to ban the entire Brat Pack from ringside, so she can retain her title against Porno Lad on her own. That would be spit in your eye.

Brooks spins Jackson around by the shoulder, as she and Steward bombard him with demands.

Brooks: Don’t give them any ideas!

Hurse: Too late.

As AWOL speaks into Hurse’s ear, Parkwood relays everything whispered to him through the microphone.

Hurse: For the first time in the history of Jackson’s life, somebody actually agrees with him. Tonight, Robin, my little chilli cheese fries…..

Brooks becomes squeamish over Hurse’s pet names.

Hurse: Your going to be all by your lonesome, because when you defend your title against Porno Lad, the rest of the Brat Pack is effectively banned from ringside.

Brooks is so white you would think she just saw Bob coming out of the shower.

Jackson: HA! You think that’s bad huh….

Adams just won’t stop making matters worse.

Adams: Why don’t you really test her just so you all can have even more egg on your face by the end of the night.

Now it’s Kingdom’s whispers that Hurse translates to the audience.

Hurse: We were actually getting to that…

Robin tries desperately to get the microphone out of Jackson’s hand and beat him to death with it.

Hurse: To make sure the Brat Pack abides by our ruling, and that NOBODY interferes in the main event, the Empire are going to serve as lumberjacks!

The entire arena almost looses it over such a concept, the Empire surrounding the ring and preventing any interference on Robin’s behalf. If ever there were a night so perfect for a title change, it would be this evening. Robin has that sinking feeling as her heart drops to the pit of her stomach. Buehler is now holding her hand over Jackson’s mouth so that he can’t dig them into an even deeper grave.

Johnny: But enough about Robin, in other words it’s time for a ratings boost.

If Robin weren’t so deeply effected by the thought of facing Porno Lad on her own with her greatest rivals gathered around the ring, she might just take offense to that last statement. As it stands now, her plans have been so utterly ruined, trampled on and urinated upon, that she’s almost gone catatonic.

Kingdom: And there could be no greater ratings surge than the type only the Empire can provide. In other words, Jackson, Katelyn, whether your ready or not, we don’t care, because your coming down that ramp this very second and we’re getting this six person tag team match over, NOW!

The crowd is teeming.

Johnny: See, we’re not just going to come out here, do a bunch of shameless DX inspired plugs, run our mouths, brag endlessly, hype ourselves up to the moon and back, then leave these people disappointed. If we did that, it make us the Brat Pack. No, we’re going to show that unlike so many stables in the past, we can actually back up what we’re saying. So like I said, get in the ring so we can start off the show the best way possible, with an Empire victory by means of the utter humiliation of the Brat Pack.

The mic is tossed over Kingdom’s shoulder while the Empire disrobe from their hot selling team t-shirts. Jackson is now the one who finds himself alarmed, forced to back up his own words when given no time to formulate a swerve or a gameplan. Buehler kicks him in the shin, causing Jackson to hobble on a foot in pain. What’s even more painful is Katelyn’s yapping, barking at him like an angered Chihuahua.

Mark: We’re going to see the reunion of the Empire in our opening match tonight? I don’t think this show could get off to a hotter start.

Moore: Not even if I were to play Dance, Dance Revolution?

Comeau: No.

Susie: Did I mention that I play it in my underwear?

Mark: Doesn’t change a thing, despite a slight elevation of our announce table. But not only are we going to see the in ring return of the Empire next, we’ve also been promised that Robin Brooks versus Porno Lad for the Submission Title will be our main event, and that it will be a LUMBERJACK MATCH.

Moore: Finally, a chance to wear flannel.

Brooks has to be helped to the back by Paris and Katie, finding herself so utterly traumatized she can barely budge her muscles. All the while Jackson and Buehler continue to dispute who’s responsible for their current predicament, Katelyn blaming Adams thanks to his always open mouth, and Jackson accusing Buehler because of her always open legs. Despite who’s to blame nothing changes the fact that they now have to enter the ring with three men poised and ready to fire the first shot in this stable war.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Battle Kat: The Second Greatest Feline Gimmick of All Times

KATELYN BEUHLER & JACKSON ADAMS & PSYCHO
VS.
THE EMPIRE

Mark: Riot! is back and we’re getting off on the right foot.

Susie: Really? So your into kinky shit then?

Comeau: That’s not what I meant by getting off. I was referring to the fact that Katelyn Buehler and Jackson Adams are about to step into the ring with the Empire in perhaps the biggest opening contest is recent history.

Jackson leads the way to the ring, Buehler reluctantly following behind. She realizes that she’s been left all alone with nobody but Adams to depend on. The thought absolutely terrifies her, but so does the idea of stepping into the ring against the Big Crazy Bastard, the Team Leader, and her scorned lover. The only person in the ring not out to ring her neck is referee Fitzpatrick, now on hand to call all the action.

Comeau: Adams’ loud mouth has got he and Buehler in a load of trouble. Not only was Robin booked in a lumberjack match later tonight, but now this six person tag team match is on and the Brat Pack are barred from ringside. Maybe it would be in Jackson’s best interest to just shut up.

Susie: I don’t think Adams knows how to close his mouth. He hasn’t closed it since he came out of his mother’s belly screaming.

Mark: Well, I think Adams and Buehler are in for the same level of pain as child birth.

Jackson jumps to the apron and sits on the middle rope, parting the cables so that Buehler can enter. His chivalry is wasted on Katelyn, who clearly has no interest in being the first person to enter the ring. AWOL licks his chomps at the thought of getting physical with the self proclaimed Slut.

Mark: Adams trying to get Buehler to enter the ring, but I don’t think she has much in the way of interest in facing off against any member of the Empire.

Before Adams can force Katelyn into the ring, “Soldier Side” hits the PA system and from the backstage area emerges the Sadistic One himself. The crowd watches him stroll down the ramp with baited breathes, unsure what he’s about to do their heroes. Adams and Buehler view Psycho with the same hesitation, completely unsure of the monster’s motives as he ascends the steps to the apron. His murderous, chilling gaze sends their hearts up into their throats. His finger raised and gestures towards himself, cutting forth with a demand that goes un-protested.

Psycho: I’m starting this match.

Jackson and Buehler back off, offering no complaints. They are completely complacent with his wishes.

Mark: Psycho now out here for this six person tag team match and he just made it 100% clear. HE’S starting this match for his team.

Moore: It’s so nice when people volunteer. I volunteered to be shot out of a cannon once, but I can’t remember how that ended.

Comeau: I’m sure the hospital bills serve as clues.

Susie: Huh? Oh, I just make bills into paper airplanes and hope somehow that keeps me from having to pay them.

If anyone is about to pay a big price it’s Johnny Kingdom, who stands opposed to Psycho in the ring. Although he knows that this match-up will take a serious physical toll on his body Kingdom is determined to be a true Team Leader, starting out the action for the Empire. He and Psycho tentatively step in and prepare to dance, the two locking up in a collar elbow.

Almost immediately Psycho overpowers the champion, tossing him spine first into a corner. It’s there he rests against the turnbuckle, arms draped over the cables as Psycho steps in going for a chop. The Team Leader smartly ducks down out of the way, avoiding the inbound hand of his opponent.

Psycho is spun around as a result of his miss, wedging his spine to the corner in perfect position for Kingdom to begin delivering chop after chop to his chest.

Mark: Psycho missed his shot and now Kingdom is taking over!

Chop after chop wallops Psycho to the sternum before he fights his way out of the turnbuckle. He takes a bold step forward and delivers his own chest cracking chop on the Team Leader. The swift strike sends Johnny spiraling towards the center of the ring. He turns and receives an open hand palm strike straight to the cheek.

Somehow the World Champion remains upright albeit teetering on the point of going over. Foolishly Psycho looks away from his wounded opponent and eyes AWOL in the corner. The Big Crazy Bastard isn’t unnerved by this glare from his former pupil, especially as Psycho turns right back into an open hand palm strike from Kingdom.

The cheek busting blow has the Sadistic One staggered before he delivers another knife edge chop. Although staggered Kingdom responds with a chop of his own, the crowd wooing each one of these career shortening strikes.

Mark: Kingdom and Psycho are just tearing each other apart with strikes in there. One can only imagine the type of wounds they’re inflicting on one another.

Susie: Big wounds probably. The type of wound that I pee out of.

Comeau: Susie, that’s your vagina.

Moore: Really? Fascinating.

Psycho doesn’t settle for an endless exchange of slaps and chops. He balls up his fist and throws a punch that Kingdom ducks, the World Champion now anticipating his opponent’s full rotation. Psycho turns just in time for Kingdom to lunge into the air for the dropkick. Both of his feet are swatted aside, Johnny sent collapsing to the canvas with nothing to more to show for his move than pain.

Mark: Psycho proving that he can not only trade shots with Kingdom, but he can be just as quick as well.

As Psycho moves in for the kill he spots Jackson hopping all around on the apron. Adams extends his palm out over the canvas, begging to be tagged in. All Psycho does is sneer in the direction of his former foe and turn his attention back to the recuperating Team Leader. The distraction proved detrimental as Psycho walks right into a forearm to the gut, doubling him over.

Johnny then proceeds to reach his feet as Psycho swings at his skull and misses. Johnny ducks one inbound fist and then another before standing up and delivering a vicious European Uppercut. The stiff strike sends Psycho staggering backwards into the ropes while the Champion turns to make the tag. He slaps the outstretched palm of the Big Crazy Bastard.

Mark: Here’s what we’ve been waiting to see, Psycho and AWOL in the center of that ring. Finally we’re going to figure out what kind of alliance exists between these…..well, spoke too soon.

Psycho moves across the ring and now tags out to Adams. Jackson looks at his slapped chest then up into Psycho’s demented orbs.

Psycho: You wanted in there, so hop to it!

Psycho exits the ring much to the dejection of the crowd and the amusement of AWOL. A grin so chilling it would turn a warm blooded animal cold blooded extends from one ear lobe to the other as the Big Crazy Bastard finds himself opposed to an age old foe.

Mark: Now it’s Adams who will face off with AWOL. These two have a rivalry that has spanned several years….well, scratch that again.

Moore: Okay.

Comeau: HEY! What have I told you about touching me there?

Susie: That I should do it during commercial breaks?

Mark: Nooooo, the other thing.

Moore: Is this about the sexual harassment lawsuit?

Comeau: YES!

Instead of facing off against the deranged behemoth, Adams takes the same approach as Psycho, but for different reasons. He tags out to Buehler, who’s eyes widen in shock, her lips quivering as she realizes what Adams has just done. Katelyn does not want any piece of AWOL, but the decision is taken out of her hands. The Big Crazy Bastard hooks her arm and hip tosses her over the ropes into the ring.

She crashes across the canvas and immediately reaches for her rear-end, which took much of the impact upon the nasty landing. Buehler desperately begins to stand up when AWOL moves in, snatches hold of her hair and yanks her to her feet. He cocks back his fist with Buehler gasping in a truly alarmed state.

Instead of driving his fist into Katelyn’s face though, AWOL opens his hand and uses it to tag in Hurse. The Master of Control anxiously pivoted between feet on the apron, begging to get tagged into this match. He didn’t have to wait long to receive an answer to his wishes.

Mark: Hurse finally about to get his hands on the woman who betrayed him at Upping the Ante. This has been a long time coming.

Hurse is so thrilled at the thought of getting his hands on Katelyn that he finds himself a little too over eager. He jumps into the ring and runs right into a boot that doubles him over. Hurse isn’t the only one stunned by the blow, so is Katelyn, who’s face is a picture of shock.

She quickly overcomes her disbelief just in time to lock her arms around her ex’s head.

Katelyn: Hiii….

Her battle-cry goes unfinished and her follow up unfulfilled because Hurse breaks free, clamps his arms around Buehler’s waist and drops her into a huge German suplex. The back of Katelyn’s head strikes the canvas she springs from the ring to her knees, looking as drunk and disorderly as Lindsey Lohan behind the wheel of a car.

Mark: BIG GERMAN.

Susie: Where? Is he wearing lederhosen?

Comeau: I was talking about the move in the ring actually, not your sexual fantasies.

Hurse nips to his feet and shows the type of invigoration rarely seen from him in this day and age. As Katelyn begins to stand up, Hurse goes charging into the cables in an attempt to knock her right back down.

He ricochets from the ropes, comes back in at Katelyn who throws a lariat only to have it ducked by her ex lover. Hurse not only avoids the move but transitions into one of his own by dropping into a baseball slide, hooking Katelyn’s leg with his hand and plucking her feet out from under her. She crashes to the canvas face first while Hurse slides under the ropes to the apron.

He quickly stands back up, pulls himself over the top rope and comes down with a slingshot elbow drop directly to Katelyn’s kidneys.

Mark: That move perfectly timed.

The crowd slaps the canvas in joy while Hurse rolls back over top of Buehler, catching her around the jaw and pulling her head back into a camel clutch. He sits on her upper back, fishhooking her face in a desperate attempt to deform her. Katelyn’s scream elicits a quick response from the official, who is jumping all over Hurse, demanding he break the hold or be disqualified, his choice.

For Hurse it’s a tough decision, either maim the woman who ditched him publicly in the more humiliating way possible, or lose this match. Unfortunately, it’s a risk he’s not willing to take with his teammates counting on him. He breaks the hold then reaches out to someone who is less likely to get his team disqualified, Kingdom.

The World Champion’s palm is slapped and Hurse pulls up on Katelyn’s jaw, putting her face in perfect position for a disfiguring basement dropkick. Both of Johnny’s boots connect with Buehler’s face with the same amount of force. Katelyn quickly rolls to her back, grabbing at her face and checking to make sure that no teeth were knocked loose. Although it would give her an excuse to enhance her grill with some gold bling.

One person who isn’t obsessed with enhancing his looks, is Psycho, no matter how many permanent scars litter his face. Consumed with anger, the crazed sycophant rushes into the ring, going for a stereo lariat on his distracted opponents. Hurse and Kingdom were in the midst of an awkward stare before turning their attention from one another to their inbound rival.

They lift their boots and simultaneous kick Psycho to the gut, doubling him over where they put him in a double front chancery. It takes their combined might to hoist Psycho into the air and drop back into a vertical suplex.

Mark: Hurse and Kingdom showing some terrific tag team chemistry. These two men have a long history with one another, having teamed on many occasions in the past.

Susie: Am I supposed to remember any of those matches?

Comeau: It would be helpful.

Moore: Oh thank God. I tried watching some videotapes of old IWC shows, but I ended up recording over them with episodes of Thundercats.

The impact of spine to canvas causes Psycho to growl as he rolls across the ring and spills to the outside of mats. Jackson has one foot in the ring, looking to succeed where Psycho failed before he looks up and spots the expression on Kingdom’s face. Johnny spotted him in mid-entry, and the gleam in his eye inspires Jackson to retract his leg and take his place in the corner.

Comeau: Jackson smart enough not to get in the ring with Kingdom when he’s on fire.

Susie: Not even to extinguish him?

Mark: Believe me, if I were being literal, I think Jackson would enjoy nothing more than the sight of Kingdom burning.

Kingdom enjoys the sight of Jackson’s cowardice, reminding him of ye old days when the Team Leader would have to take up slack for his treacherous pupil. He puts aside such traumatic memories in favor of returning his focus to Buehler, who is desperately trying to pull herself up into a corner.

Johnny takes a gamble by tagging out to Hurse, but in the process shows trust. The generous Kingdom allows Hurse to satisfaction of further brutalizing the deceitful Buehler, and at the present moment she’s prime pickings.

Hurse enters the ring and is then backed into a corner by his teammate. The World Champion whips Hurse across the ring as he turns and sails back first right into Katelyn’s upper-driving her lovely face into the turnbuckle.

She bounces off and twists around, falling to her seat against the corner, which prompts Hurse to only naturally make the tag to AWOL. Katelyn’s is perfectly placed for one of AWOL’s many facial distorting maneuvers. He knows exactly what’s expected of him and is all too glad to live up to said expectations.

AWOL enters the ring, wedges his foot to Katelyn’s face and then turns towards the crowd, almost seeking approval.

Comeau: AWOL building suspense before he undoes years of plastic surgery.

Susie: I’ve never had work done on me.

Mark: I think what you meant to say, is that you’ve never done work.

AWOL hesitates no more, grinding his foot against Katelyn’s face several times then taking off across the ring. He rushes into the opposite ropes, anticipation building for the Brat Pack. Both Kingdom and Hurse crotch beside the seated Buehler, waving AWOL in like they were part of an airport runway crew.

AWOL bounces from the cables but he does not give the fans what they so desperately want to see. Instead Jackson grabs the top rope and low bridges him, AWOL spilling over the cables after he intended to bounce from them spine first. With his back turned AWOL flips over the ropes and crashes to the outside mats, hitting them with enough force to thoroughly rattle his body.

Comeau: Ahhh shucks, we were deprived of the face wash.

Moore: Awwww. Buehler really could use a thorough cleaning.

Adams now stands up on the apron while AWOL reaches his feet beneath him. The moment that the Big Crazy Bastard stands, Jackson flips off the top rope with an Arabian Press. The momentum created by dropping his legs across the top cable sends him into a moonsault that puts his weight right into AWOL’s shoulder. The force knocks the Big Crazy Bastard to the mats but fortunately for Jackson, he lands right on his feet.

Adams can only take a moment to enjoy the fruits of his labors, because Hurse is already barreling across the ring and diving over the top rope. He comes down plummeting into Jackson’s chest, hitting a picture perfect crossbody.

Mark: Hurse coming to the aid of his stablemate. Boy, it just seems odd to think Hurse would be assisting AWOL after all these two have put each other through over the years.

Susie: Believe me, if your paid enough money you can be friends with anybody.

Comeau: Yeah, I’m sure plenty of hideous men have paid you in the past, Susie, but not for your friendship.

Moore: One guy did ask me to play Patty Cake with him. But I left when he found out it wasn’t my hands he wanted to slap.

Deep, labored breathes are exerted from Hurse’s wounded lungs. He curls into a fetal position while rolling around on the mats, Jackson spread across them at his side, in possibly worse shape then his former Alpha Generation teammate.

Although the crowd has already got a treat out of watching all these dives, Buehler looks to add to the high flying exploits. The crowd finds themselves as alarmed as Buehler when she reaches the top rope and prepares for flight. The moment Katelyn realizes just how high she is in the air is the second she realizes this was a very stupid idea.

Thankfully she doesn’t have to follow through with her ill-conceived dive, but she wishes that she had once Kingdom gets his hands on her. Johnny steps under Katelyn, puts his shoulders to the creases of her knees and prepares to charge her out of the turnbuckle into a running powerbomb.

Buehler’s eyes widen as Johnny takes the first bold steps towards concluding this match in a hurry. Katelyn prevents disaster however, by wedging her hands to Johnny’s smooth scalp and pushing herself over his head. She lands right back on the turnbuckle, feet connecting with the middle rope.

Kingdom staggers forward, taking a second to realize that Katelyn has shocked everyone, himself included, by actually countering the move. There’s a big difference between coming to that realization and actually doing something about it, a task Johnny is rendered incapable of completing after he stumbles into a big boot from Psycho.

The gargantuan foot of Psycho drills Kingdom under the jaw, but instead of taking him off of his feet it sends Johnny into twisting in a circle. He only makes a semi circle before turning to face Katelyn who flies off the middle rope into a Lou Thez Press.

She crashes into Kingdom, taking both herself and the World Champion down to the canvas then unloads with a series of right hands.

Mark: Lou Thez Press by Buehler, taking Kingdom down and putting her team into the driver’s seat.

Susie: WHAT!?! Katelyn’s got a license and I can’t get one? Just because I don’t know how to parallel park, and I use the rearview mirrors to reflect my beautiful face even while driving. It’s a conspiracy is what it is.

Fist after fist lands across Kingdom’s face, shaking him up and bringing Katelyn closer to nirvana. Her joy is snatched out of her hands, literally, by Psycho. He steps in and with no regard for his partner’s feelings, shoves Katelyn off of Kingdom so he can get hold of the champ.

Both hands wrap around Johnny’s head as he’s dragged to his feet and drilled across the chest with an ever so sickening knife edge chop. Kingdom flies backwards into the ropes, bounces off and comes back into Psycho’s waiting palms. He gorilla presses the Team Leader into the air then steps towards the ropes.

On the opposite side of the cables is where Hurse is standing, currently putting the boots to Adams. He doesn’t spot Johnny being thrown over the top rope until he’s already crashing into him.

Mark: Psycho killing two birds with one Kingdom.

Hurse tries to cushion Johnny’s fall with his own body and pays the price dearly. A discombobulated AWOL stumbles past his partners, having no idea what happened to them. He’s blinded by his anger towards Jackson, who metaphorically stabbed him in the back by pulling down the ropes.

His hands snatch hold of Jackson’s hair and drags his body to a standing base where he pops him under the jaw with a right. He then takes Adams by the ear, leading him around the ring where he drives him chin first off of the barricade.

All the while AWOL’s brethren are attempting to reach their feet, Johnny assisting the man who sacrificed himself to protect him. He and Hurse are so frazzled by that collision that they have no idea what is happening in the ring.

Foolishly Katelyn puts her hand inside of the animal’s cage, patting Psycho on the back and offering him some encouraging words. She thoroughly enjoyed seeing Kingdom used as a weapon, but when the time comes for her to serve the same function, let’s just say she’s less than thrilled.

Psycho swiftly boots his own partner to the ribs, doubling her over and putting her head under his crotch.

Mark: What is Psycho doing? That’s his tag team partner for St. Criminey’s sakes.

Susie: Maybe it’s been a really long time since he’s been with a woman.

Psycho puts all doubts to rest by pulling Katelyn up into a powerbomb position. A frantic Katelyn begs her partner to reconsider as he charges across the ring and throws her over the top rope. Katelyn comes down from the powerbomb position into both the Team Leader and the Master of Control, all three of them meeting a gruesome fate.

Mark: WOW…hahaha, Psycho making no friends but in the process he’s inflicting a whole hell of a lot damage in there. He just used Katelyn as a friggin projectile weapon.

Katelyn lays on top of both men, a position she’s probably been in many times before, while Psycho smiles for the first time in ages. His grin only widens once he turns to spot Jackson being propped up in a chair in the corner of two intersecting barricades.

AWOL positions his opponent then jabs him to the face before starting across the mats. He creates quite a distance between himself and Adams before barreling across the ring and to a rousing set of “Ole” chants, delivers the face wash on Jackson. Adams’ skull is crushed between AWOL’s boot and the barricade.

Mark: FACE WASH!

Susie: That boot went so far down Jackson’s throat that his breathe is going to stink for years.

AWOL’s foot removes itself from what’s left of Jackson’s face. The kick was so swift and so severe that it’s left Adams convulsing on the mats, flopping around like he were having a seizure. The crowd is overjoyed by what they witnessed but become even more excited when AWOL’s eyes turn towards the ring and meet Psycho’s.

Mark: Here we go, this match has come down to mentor versus student. We’re finally going to see what we’ve been waiting for for years, the Sadistic Savage and the Big Crazy Bastard mono a mono.

The fans are as enthused as Mark by the prospect of this clashing of the titans. AWOL moves as if in slow motion towards the ring, savoring every second before he finally locks up with the scarred Cartel Champion.

He grabs the middle rope and pulls himself up slowly to the apron, closely eyeing the most unpredictable superstar on the entire roster. The unpredictability stems from instability, psychologically speaking of course. Psycho bends down with hands on knees, anticipating this moment just as much as the fans.

AWOL hesitates on the apron, forming a plan, refusing to enter a war without an exit strategy. Finally his leg creeps through the ropes and his foot hits the canvas. Everyone in the building begins to stand, eagerly watching, their heart beats racing as these two men prepare to go at it.

Mark: This is it, this is it. One way or another we’re finally going to settle the rumors.

Susie: Alright, alright, I gave Richard Gere the gerbil.

Comeau: That’s not the rumor I was talking about, but thanks for that confession anyway.

AWOL slips through the ropes and before he can stand fully upright Psycho bails. To much dejection the Sadistic One has exited the ring and dropped to the outside mats, backing away from the ensuing chaos with a smile on his face.

Mark: What? Psycho is leaving? He’s bailing on a fight between he and AWOL?

Susie: Maybe he’s got more important things to do. Maybe Big Bad Bettle Borgs is on television or something. Oh God, I hope it isn’t, I don’t want to miss such rare reruns.

Comeau: Well you will, and I hardly doubt that’s Psycho’s motivating factor.

The ambiguity over Psycho’s motives remains just that, ambiguous. He says nothing to the fans who hound him with questions as he passes. He backs up the ramp uttering not so much as a single syllable, but continuing to make eye contact with the Big Crazy Bastard all the while. AWOL says nothing as well, nor does he plead for Psycho to get back into the ring so that they can settle any lingering doubts the fans may have.

Psycho has no intention of giving into the demands of any fan who whole heartedly endorses the likes of Axl Evermore. So he stays tight lipped as he backs right into Riggs, joined arm in arm with Suzie.

Mark: What in the blue blazes?

Susie: Okay, okay, I also put the gerbil in his….

Comeau: AGAIN, that is not what I’m referencing. What has provoked Riggs and his dish to come out here.

Psycho pauses one his back bumps into the chest of his former rival and tag team partner. It’s unclear on what Riggs is tonight, friend or foe. Such confusion is expressed by Psycho’s questioning glare. His eyes center on the painted face of a man who has driven him through tables, and almost assisted him to claiming the Tag Team Titles.

Mark: What’s going to happen now? Would someone take a second and PLEASE explain to us what’s going on here?

Susie: I can.

Comeau: Don’t even bother.

AWOL finds himself just as intrigued as the fans, watching as his former pupils continue to exchange a chilling, suspenseful stare. Before fists can fly and the fans can relish in yet another bloodbath between the two, Riggs, Suzie and Psycho turn to the curtains and leave together.

Mark: What the hell is going on? Now Psycho is leaving with Riggs and Suzie? This is mind boggling to say the least.

The distraction that Psycho’s departure has created leaves AWOL susceptible to a recovered Adams. Jackson slips in behind his rival, snatches AWOL by the arms, then spins him around and plants the Big Crazy Bastard face first into the canvas with an unprettier.

Comeau: Adams making use of this confusing situation by planting AWOL with a stunning unprettier.

AWOL lies on his back, eyes fluttering as he tries to remain conscious. No matter how tough he may be he finds himself in the same shape as anyone subjected to the unprettier, on his back and moments from being pinned. Jackson, who is still light headed from that face wash, instinctively throws his arm across AWOL’s chest. That’s when the referee introduces Jackson to a little concept known as reality. He tells Adams that he is NOT the legal man.

Mark: Not good for Jackson, he had the win possibly, and he desperately needed to get that pin considering that Psycho’s departure has turned this into a handicap match. But alas the referee is only doing his job by enforcing the rules.

Susie: Good, it’s about time people started doing what they’re paid for.

Comeau: I would say something about a pot calling a kettle black, but you’ll just take me too literally and not much hilarity will ensue.

Moore: You’re a psychic Mark. You’re like the next Miss Cleo. Do you want my credit card number now, or after the first three minutes?

Mark: Susie, the only thing I see in your future is an unemployment check.

Jackson is on his feet but he soon wishes he had stayed down, because now he’s subjected to a recovered Kingdom’s right hands. Johnny picks up exactly where he left off last week, delivering right after right to his former student’s temple. These shots have Adams all shook up, his legs nearly cutting out beneath him repeatedly.

Somehow he keeps standing, which is probably not the best course of action because Johnny chains the barrage of right hands into the dreaded roaring elbow. The blow comes within inches of Jackson’s face before he ducks to avoid it. He steps behind his FORMER Team Leader and hooks the crease of Johnny’s elbow in the process.

Adams stands behind Kingdom and then twists him around, going for an unprettier on yet another of his former stablemates. This time he’s not so fortunate, because Johnny wedges his hands to Jackson’s spine and pushes him off towards the ropes.

The World Champion stands, anticipating Adams’ ricochet from the ropes right back into his clutches. What he expected isn’t what he gets. Adams ducks down right in front of the ropes as Buehler shockingly springs off the top cable, flies over her partner and connects with a crossbody on Kingdom, taking them both down to the canvas.

Just as Buehler flew over Adams, Jackson ducked and dove through the ropes right into a rising Hurse, connecting with a breathtaking suicide headbunt.

Comeau: INCREDIBLE! Buehler and Adams taking out both Kingdom and Hurse with unbelievable tandem dives. They’ve got the Empire reeling, and now may be the best time to put them away, the only opportunity they’re presented with given how greatly the odds are stacked against them.

The lack of a third partner leaves both Adams and Buehler scrambling to pick up the win while AWOL is still incapacitated. Katelyn rolls off of a laid out Kingdom and quickly crouches in front of a recovering AWOL. It’s just as they feared, AWOL is already getting back to his feet and he’s looking to give his team a definite numbers advantage.

Adams realizes this, ceasing his stomps to Hurse’s body and frantically glaring at the almost superhuman recovery of his former running buddy. Almost on instinct Jackson lunges towards the ring, grabs the tarp hanging from it and reaches under it for a chair.

Mark: Adams always looking for an equalizer. He’ll certainly need something to even the odds if AWOL is able to get up.

Susie: Hopefully he’ll find Ladder under there somewhere. He’s been missing for like weeks. I even had his rungs printed on the side of milk cartons, but still no luck in finding him.

Comeau: Your search will have to continue, because that’s not a ladder he’s retrieving.

Jackson confirms Mark’s suspicions by removing a steel chair from under the ring, a weapon he intends to completely incapacitate AWOL with. Hurse once again throws himself in front of a bullet for the sake of his partners. He lunges towards Adams and spins him around, immediately struggling with him over the chair.

Jackson is able to wrestle it away from Hurse then stomp him to the knee. The swift strike knocks Hurse’s legs out from under him, sending his weary body collapsing to his knees. All the while in the ring behind Jackson, Buehler is locking her arms around AWOL’s head, setting up for the KBO.

Mark: Buehler using perhaps the most generic finisher on the planet to put down the legal man.

Susie: Duh’. You can so tell AWOL is over eighteen, otherwise the thoughts I’m having about him right now would be totally inappropriate.

Comeau: No matter how old he may be those thoughts are STILL disgusting.

Buehler is proud of herself for a fleeting instant, a moment ruined by AWOL’s nagging persistence to keep on living. He stands up, wedges his shoulder to Buehler’s spine and hoists her up into the air for the back drop suplex. Buehler has no intention of going away easy, flipping back out of AWOL’s clutches and landing on her feet.

Katelyn is ecstatic that she once again provided a counter, one that puts her in a position to take the advantage. The elated Buehler rushes into the ropes, bouncing off of them and causing the cables to smack into the back of Jackson’s head. The contact, no matter how weak it may have been, sends Jackson spinning around and cracking Katelyn in the spine with the chair.

The sickening thud echoes throughout the arena and sends Katelyn limping back towards the center of the ring.

Mark: Adams cracking Buehler’s back with a chair. Things just went from bad to worse for the Brat Pack.

The dented chair in Jackson’s hands is a cruel reminder of his blunder. He backs away from the ropes purposely holding the chair up high so that the official can see it, all the while he eyes both the steel and the spine of his partner. His motives suddenly become translucent as the official has no other alternative but to call for the bell. As soon as it chimes in the background Jackson drops the chair and puts his hand over his mouth.

Jackson: Whoopsie!

The fans are so angered they find themselves on the verge of lynching Adams, or at least chasing him as a mob wielding torches and pitchforks. The callous monster that is Jackson continues to back up the ramp as Buehler turns and eyes him, her lips curling with rage. She may be blinded by both pain and rage, but she can still see the smile on Jackson’s face.

Mark: The referee throwing out the match after Jackson hit his own partner with a chair. I think it’s fairly obvious now that his actions were intentional.

Susie: He hit Katelyn on purpose.

Comeau: I’m surprised you were able to figure that out.

Susie: Good for him, I’ll have to buy him a Mr. Pibb.

First Jackson incites Buehler’s anger via a shrugging of his shoulders, then he inspires her fear by waving goodbye then pointing over her shoulder. Katelyn doesn’t realize what’s happening until AWOL is taking her over with the Daisy Cutter.

Mark: OHHH BOY! Buehler just went for a ride!

Susie: Not fair. Look at my face, I’m pouting now.

Mark: Believe me, this isn’t the type of ride you’d want to go on.

Moore: Is it the “It’s a Small World” ride? Because that does freak the hell out of me.

AWOL connects with his finishing move, planting Buehler violently to the canvas.

Mark: Now the Daisy Cutter connecting and Jackson isn’t lifting a finger to help his partner.

The second Katelyn’s face bounces from the ring Kingdom is on top of her like Kanye West stealing a music award. Johnny is overcome with a sudden burst of adrenaline, driving him to shove the official aside, jump towards Katelyn and trap her in a front chancery.

Before Buehler can even recover from the Daisy Cutter she’s heaved into the air and planted head first into the canvas with the Exodus Finale.

Mark: Followed by the Exodus Finale! Good heavens, Buehler may be brain dead at this point.

Susie: Like she wasn’t already.

Comeau: Again, pot, kettle, you should get this metaphor by now.

Jackson doesn’t even bother to mask his amusement, quite tickled by the brutality inflicted on Buehler thus far. The punishment only continues as Hurse slips into the ring and goes to work as well on the injured Katelyn. He grabs her legs, tosses them over his shoulders, heaves her up into the air and steps in front of the arms. Before the referee can even get out a single warning, Katelyn is driven to the canvas with the Sanitizer, now having suffered each of the Empire’s finishing maneuvers. Adams couldn’t be any happier at the sight of this.

Mark: This accident was nothing but a hoax.

Susie: Oh, it’s not a hoax, I couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time after watching Katelyn dropped on her head like that.

Comeau: That would certainly explain why I’m ankle deep in urine right now, but what bears the need for further explanation is that grin on Jackson’s face. Did he just get his team disqualified to save face, and if so, why hasn’t he helped Katelyn yet? Or is this payback for last week?

The fans are positively rejoicing, having an emotional overload at the sight of Buehler laying a crumbled heap on the canvas. The Empire stands above her, each man depicting a different emotion. For Johnny it’s pride, for Hurse it’s satisfaction, for AWOL it’s apathy.

Mark: And the Empire has cemented their return via the utter destruction of Katelyn Buehler. But would they have left here tonight with a pinfall victory if it hadn’t been for Jackson and his “errant” chair shot?

Susie: Yay, the Empire beat the stuffing out of Buehler, party, DISCO TIME! Where in the blazes is Disco Ninja when you need him?

Inside the ring AWOL is assisted to his feet by the World Heavyweight Champion, where the two immediately proceed to do what they do best, gloat. Hurse slips in between them and joins in with the celebration, raising both the arms of AWOL and Johnny high in the air.

With the triumphant trio standing above her, Katelyn begins to regain some of her faculties lost by the triple whammy to the head coupled with the chair shot to her back. She turns and glares through the ropes at a departing Adams. Instead of raging with remorse Jackson almost looks content. He throws his palms out to his sides and with a titled head mumbles the most pathetic explanation conceivable.

Jackson: My bad.

Despite his feigned remorse, Jackson cannot keep his grin hidden. Buehler is suddenly reminded of a certain tag match from several months ago which ended in much the same fashion, but with roles reversed.

Mark: I think Buehler is remembering a certain handicap match against Craven several months ago which ended with her hitting her partner Adams with a chair?

Susie: Your asking me to remember…..anything?

Comeau: Sorry, I thought I was working with someone competent.

Moore: Your forgiven.

As Buehler prepares to shoot steam from her ears like a tea kettle Jackson shrugs and continues to offer up half hearted apologies. His words are almost drowned out by the ovation from the crowd, which is screaming at a decibel never heard before for the celebrating trio now occupying three corners of the ring. They stand on turnbuckles and lift their fists simultaneously into the air, receiving a rousing reaction.

Mark: The war between the Empire and the Brat Pack only heating up here in the IWC. They may not have walked away here tonight with a pinfall victory, but the damage they inflicted on Buehler has just fired a major shot at the Brat Pack and their allies.

A SILENT KILLER

Michelle Blacker: Psycho….Riggs…..wait up.

Michelle suddenly wishes she hadn’t wore her giant goth boots bearing comically enormous heels. They slow her down greatly as she tries to keep up with Psycho, Riggs and Suzie.

Michelle: Come on, slow down. Have you ever tried to run in hot leather? It’s impossible.

Neither Riggs nor Psycho turn to acknowledge her presence, keeping their back turned towards her and the camera as they continue down the corridor.

Blacker: Please, just a few words. Maybe a brief explanation?

Despite getting zero nibbles on the hook she’s thrown, Michelle goes about her standard interview as if anyone were interested.

Michelle: Why did you bail on that match, Psycho? And why did you leave with Riggs?

They remain as quiet as monks who have taken a vow of silence. Their heads do not turn to give Michelle even a second of their attention. Instead they just keep walking.

Blacker: Does this have anything to do with you and AWOL?

Finally his feet have stopped moving, Psycho coming to an abrupt halt. Both Riggs and Suzie cease their forward momentum as well, watching their scarred partner slowly turn his ravenous eyes towards the un-intimidated beauty. Instead of offering even the slightest syllable Psycho allows his grin to do all the talking for him. A smile so frightening it would send Hannibal Lecter scurrying under his bed, sucking his thumb and crying for mommy, has found its way to the face of the Cartel Champion.

No matter how life shortening the smirk may be, it offers little in the way of an answer. Michelle naturally turns towards Riggs, his face as placid as a tombstone. Words continue to go unspoken as he, Psycho and Suzie once again turn their backs on an offended Michelle and proceed down the corridor.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

The Greatest Leave it to Beaver Inspired Gimmick of All Times

THE COLD SHOULDER

Rose: Would you just stop a second and listen to me, PLEASE?

Much like Michelle Blacker, Rose is getting a cold shoulder, but not from a relative stranger. Her husband, Christian is in the process of unpacking his gym bag and tossing the items into his locker. He takes a moment to unbutton his designer shirt and place it around the hanger nearest to his two title belts.

Rose: Can’t you just….CHRISTIAN!

She grabs him by the shoulder but the Rising Phoenix pulls away.

Rose: This is ridiculous.

Rose throws her hands up into the air, seemingly giving up.

Christian: Ridiculous? Really?

Finally Savior speaks, but not at a tone Rose likes.

Savior: Until you’ve competed in this company you don’t know the meaning of that word.

Rose: I know what ridiculous is, believe you me sweetheart. Ridiculous is thinking you could trust Jackson Adams. You have nobody to blame for what happened last week but yourself.

Savior: HA!

The Rising Phoenix has about had enough of his wife’s nagging.

Christian: Like I could predict that whiny little shit would double cross me and bite the hand that was all but feeding him the World Title. Sure, like I said last week, I thought there was a slight possibility, but who would really be that stupid?

Rose: You found out the answer to that question, now didn’t you?

In a huff Christian grabs a towel out of his gym-bag and tosses it into the locker.

Rose: Putting him in that position in the first place was a BIG mistake.

Christian: How so? And besides, it’s not like I didn’t have a back up plan to make sure the title was taken off of Kingdom and put on someone I could actually tolerate. Well, at least until I decided it was time to retake my spotlight and pin them for it that is.

Rose: Obviously even your backup plan failed, otherwise we wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation. It serves you right not only trusting Adams, but that circle of hoes he runs around here with.

Savior: Listen, the Brat Pack and I, we have an understanding.

Rose: And do you care to tell me just what that understanding is?

Savior can detect jealousy, and he doesn’t like it, nor does he respond well to it.

Rose: Shame you don’t have the same type of understanding with your partner.

Savior: He’s NOT my partner. Never was, never will be.

Rose: Yeah, you made sure of that at Upping the Ante.

Now it’s Christian who finds himself offended by his wife’s tone, giving her the good old fashion stink eye.

Christian: Pat’s a big boy, he knew what he was getting himself into when he signed that contract.

Rose: I don’t think he did….but what I do know, is that he’s going to do everything in his power to make sure you don’t walk away with the X-Class Title tonight.

Savior: Don’t you think I already knew that?

Rose: Weeeellll, then shouldn’t you be doing something about it? Maybe you could sit down and talk with him….

Christian: HA!

Rose rolls her eyes and continues, undaunted by Savior’s outburst.

Rose: You guys were part of the Conspiracy for a year, that’s GOT to count for something. If you just explained why you did what you did at Upping the Ante, and how it was in the best interest of the company, I’m sure he’d understand…..

Savior: Have you forgotten who you’re talking about Rose? Pat Evans is incapable of understanding logic. Besides, I have another way of dealing with Evans tonight, a more direct method.

Rose: What’s more direct than sharing your feelings?

That last sentence causes Christian to squirm and struggle against upchucking.

Christian: This isn’t Dr. Phil. No, this is the glorious sport of wrestling, where differences can be resolved with far less complications, and a little mindless violence….

The most important object in Savior’s gym bag is now removed, a steel pipe. He stretches it across his palms, looking from the symbolic weapon to Rose’s face.

Savior: Oh yes, I’ll ensure Evans doesn’t cost me the X-Class Title. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s about time I find my quote un quote “partner.”

Savior throws the pipe over his shoulders and across the back of his neck. He almost struts with confidence out of the dressing room, his emotional state greatly altered by the weapon in hand. With a sigh Rose follows after her husband, hopeful that she can talk some sense into him.

MAX CRAVEN VS. ANDY MADROX VS. MIHO MIYAZAKI

The show returns to the interior of the Manhattan Center, where much chaos has already ensued thus far. The excited voices of Mark and Susie pipe in as the camera pans over the equally as energetic crowd.

Mark: Riot! proving to be the definition of total non-stop action thus far here tonight, with many stories unfolding in that ring and backstage. Is Christian really about to go looking for who I think he is?

Susie: If it’s Waldo, I’m not helping. That guy freaks the hell out of me.

Comeau: I guess Savior’s search for Evans is just one of many stories we’ll continue to follow on this loaded edition of Riot! where Robin Brooks is still slated to face Porno Lad in a lumberjack match and Axl Evermore will collide with Sean Johnson over the Cartel Title number one contendership.

It’s at this point in time that the crowd directs their attention to the stage where Miho Miyazaki is located. Her entrance music continues to pipe through the PA system as the ever so loveable he/she proceeds towards the ring. The fact that he/she is forced to compete here tonight, once again in a match against Max Craven, is cause for much dread.

Mark: Now we come to a match interesting for several reasons. Not only are we about to see the debut of a new star, but we’re also going to see this escalating rivalry between Max Craven and Miho Miyazaki taken to the next step. If you remember just last week, Miyazaki was pinned by Craven via the Big Stiffy. I’m sure he/she will be looking to get some revenge after that little indiscretion.

Moore: How do you know what Miho wants, you don’t even know what sex it is.

Comeau: Touché. You can call it more of a gut feeling then.

Susie: Probably just gas. That happens when I breathe in air that has food particles on it.

Miho now watches from a corner with a look of utter disgust as Renegade hits the PA system. To the stage Andy Madrox makes his way. He pauses and tries to amp up the crowd who are not quick to express themselves, unsure of who Madrox is, or the talent he may possess. Andy bolts towards the ring nevertheless and hops to the apron, before flipping over it into the ring, Miho watching with a callous gaze all the while.

Mark: And here’s a young man who could have a very promising future here in the IWC. We’re hoping to see a lot from this newcomer, and we’ll get a slight taste of what we can expect when he competes here tonight.

Moore: How do we do that? Do I lick him?

Comeau: While I’m sure that’s your usual courting method, no, no you do not lick Madrox, and no you do not get yet another lawsuit filed against us.

Andy is now standing on a turnbuckle, overlooking the crowd that sits in quiet anticipation. Clearly the fans have no idea what to make of this new star and are inclined to take the wait and see approach. Mr. Madrox will certainly be out to make an impression as he leaps from the corner and turns to glare at one of his two opponents this evening.

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

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

It cross-fades into "Church of Hot Addiction" by Cobra Starship, and the lights begin flashing green, gold, white, and black. The Cartel-Tron, meanwhile, shows green code raining down on a black background, forming words and phrases to match the chants. A black-with-green-trim-robed figure emerges from the back as the music gets to the first verse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The lights melt down during that line, then they begin flashing even faster on the next line as MAX runs to the ring at medium speed, Mercy walking to the backstage area with the robes in hand.

The moment that Max enters the ring, Miho is right on top of him. She/he charges in and begins delivering right hand after right hand to Craven’s temple and cheek.

Mark: Miho didn’t even let Craven complete his in ring entrance. She’s all over him like a shark on it’s bleeding prey.

Susie: I don’t see Max bleeding? Oh wait, it isn’t his time of the month is it?

Comeau: I would suggest you take an anatomy class stat.

Max begins to deliver rights to Miyazaki’s ribs, trying to back him up. That’s when Miho drills him to the face with a jumping knee strike. The shot backs Craven up into a corner while Miyazaki starts to feel good about him/herself. That’s just before Andy slips behind her, and catches Miho with a school boy, hoping to get a win in not only his debut match, but do so in record time as well.

1

Miho kicks out just as Craven comes charging out of the corner. Max barely even notices Andy until he lunges into the air, captures him around the neck with both legs and flips him over into a pinning hurricarana.

1

2

The former X-Class Champion launches a shoulder from the canvas, kicking out just moments before the three count.

Mark: Andy already impressive, showing some great timing and some tremendous agility.

Moore: Oh how I do like agility. Do you think Porny Porn will let me keep Andy Madrox?

Comeau: I think that’s a discussion for the two of you to have in private.

With a pep in his step Andy hops back to his feet and avoids the inbound boot of Miyazaki by means of a timely duck. He then takes off into the ropes, leaps to the middle one, springs off and twists in mid-air. Just as Miyazaki turns around, Andy lands on her/his shoulders and connects with another hurricarana.

Mark: Now Andy pulling off one of Max’s maneuvers with that springboard hurricarana.

The crowd is starting to warm up to Andy as he reaches his feet just in time for Max to leap into the air behind him, driving his heel into the back of Madrox’s head. The blow sends Andy scrambling forward and spilling through the ropes to the outside mats.

His crash landing to the outside leaves Max alone in the ring with Miho. This allows Craven to continue the physicality that has waged between the two for the past few weeks. He steps towards a kneeling Miyazaki and jabs her/him straight to the face with a right, followed by another haymaker, and another.

The blows have Miho teetering yet not fully taken over. Suddenly she leaps into the air and drills Max with a palm strike to the jaw, almost taking him over. That’s when he tries to respond with a thrust kick to the jaw only to have his foot grabbed just before it could connect.

Miyazaki pushes it away and sends Craven into a spin. As he turns to face Miho she/he attempts a spinning back elbow only to have the move connect with nothing but air. Max has side stepped his opponent and now moves in on her/his backside, snatching Miho around the neck. With the crowd screaming Craven grinds his hips and prepares for the neckbreaker.

Just as he’s on the verge of connecting Andy re-enters the ring and charges at Max’s intended victim. Miyazaki’s eyes widen and she instinctively lifts her legs into the air while her head is still trapped in the inverted face-lock. Miho’s boots connect with Andy’s chest, knocking him backwards and giving Miyazaki just the prop she needed to flip backwards over Craven’s shoulder.

She lands on her feet in front of Max and in the process pulls him down into a front chancery, immediately calling for the DDT.

Comeau: That was unique, Miho pushed herself/himself off of Andy and has now flipped into position for a dreaded DDT.

Susie: Everything that Miho does I dread. That thing had a chance to be in a three way, a THREE WAY, with Porny Porn and I. And he, she, IT, ruined everything. I even busted out my Chewbacca…..

Mark: We know already. You referenced it about forty billion times last week. Get over yourself and that Chewbacca costume.

Susie: NEVER!

Miho continues to hold a squirming Craven in position to plant him right on his head before Andy comes rushing in and catches her with a running STO. The momentum of the STO causes Miho to drag Max down into the DDT at the same time. The crowd is stunned, erupting with elation.

Mark: Again Andy showing he has some terrific timing.

Susie: Not true, he arrived two shows too late to see me in my Chewbacca lingerie.

Comeau: Ugh. Didn’t we just go over this like a fraction of a second ago?

Moore: Yes, I specifically remember you telling me to reference my Chewbacca costume in every line of dialogue.

An aching Andy scrambles into the cover on Miyazaki, hoping to pick up a HUGE debut victory.

1

2

Miho prevents defeat by virtue of kicking out. Andy does not allow this to bother him as he ascends to his feet, grabs Miho by the hair and forces him/her to his/her feet. He then delivers a swift kick to the ribs, followed by a big time uppercut shot to the jaw.

With Miyazaki thoroughly shaken up, Andy lunges at him/her and applies a side headlock, twisting at the neck as painfully as possible. It’s at this point that Max reaches his feet and immediately lunges at the two, wrapping his legs around both their necks and connecting with a STEREO hurricarana.

Mark: Un-FRIGGIN-real!

The crowd is equally as shocked by Max’s maneuver which sends both Andy and Miho flipping forward where they meet the canvas with a vicious thud.

Mark: I’ve never seen Craven hit that type of move before, a hurricarana on both of his opponents. I tell you these X-Class athletes are the definition of innovation.

Susie: And what am I the spokeswoman for?

Comeau: Birth control.

Craven is hit with a sudden surge of energy, feeding both his adrenaline and his confidence. He turns to examine both of his opponents, Andy and Miho trying desperately to reach their feet. This prompts Max to bounce from the cables and then leap into the air, flying at Madrox for a forearm. Andy is quick enough to duck out of the way, but Miho isn’t possessed with the same speed.

Max sails over Madrox and connects forearm first to Miyazaki’s face. The blow knocks her/him backwards into the ropes, which she spills through before eventually coming to a stop across the apron.

In a daze she/he begins to stand up while Max does the same. Craven would normally go right after Miyazaki if he weren’t suddenly compelled to turn around. His instincts were wise but not quick enough to alert him to the impending danger of Andy bouncing off of the cables, leaping into the air and catching Craven with a head scissors.

He swings around Max’s body, hanging upside down from his head then finally snaps off with enough force to send his opposition flying into the ropes. Craven’s shoulder goes straight through the cables and connects with Miho’s ribcage, the force knocking the transgender to the mats where she/he is crippled with pain.

The straight edge Madrox now charges up behind Max who is still leaning throat first against the middle rope, propped against it. He leaps into the air and drives both knees into Max’s upper back, choking him against the cable. His body bounces off of the ropes and as he gags Craven backs right into Madrox’s waiting arms.

Andy snaps back into a beautifully executed bridging German suplex. The ref slides into position and makes the count.

1

2

Craven staves off defeat, his shoulders lunging from the canvas.

Mark: Andy almost had this match won after he killed two birds with one stone via that head scissors.

Moore: Good, kill as many birds as possible. They never serenade me on command.

Max may be traumatized but not enough to be finished off. Andy realizes this as he reaches his feet and approaches the ropes, leaping over them to the apron. Once positioned he prepares to deliver a move sure to dazzle EVERYONE in the stands and in the lockeroom.

Just as he starts to leap, Miho grabs hold of his ankle, keeping him from completing his maneuver. An angered Madrox kicks Miyazaki away, sending him/her spiraling into the barricade, which she falls against for support. Andy now turns his attention back to Craven, who is still trying to regain his footing.

It’s at this point that Andy throws all inhibitions aside and springs to the top rope, flying off and flipping forward into a 450 splash.

Max leaps into the air though, catches Andy after his initial flip and drags him down head first into the canvas with a X-Factor style face-buster.

Mark: WHOOOOAAAA!

Susie: Sorry, when your required to wear shirts this revealing things tend to slip out.

Comeau: That’s not what has me so amazed.

Moore: Really? Have you not seen the size of my nipples?

The fans in the Manhattan Center are equally as amazed, eyes wide as saucers over that unbelievable counter by Craven that may have just put Madrox away for good. Andy just lays on the canvas convulsing while Max is spread across his back recovering. Before he can go for the pinfall, Miho swoops in and tries to steal the victory. She throws himself/herself on top of Madrox and hooks his leg for the pin, hoping to slip through the back door and win this contest.

The screams from the crowd alert Max to what’s happening as well as the sound of the referee’s palm striking the canvas.

1

2

Craven springs to action, grabbing Miho’s legs and dragging him/her off of Madrox. He now hooks his arms around Miho’s knees then falls back, catapulting him/her into the turnbuckle.

Miho’s cat like reflexes allows her to land feet first on the middle rope though, a smug sense of satisfaction sinking in. That is until he turns around and suddenly has both arms snatched hold of. Miyazaki’s face fills with terror as Craven flips her over his head and slams her down skull first into the canvas with the Insane Aslyum. The driving Iconoclasm connects with neck breaking force.

Mark: Max busting out the Insane Asylum! Miho is down, Miho is OUT!

Susie: What? Are you an umpire now? Your not nearly fat enough, and you don’t scratch your nuts as much either.

Miho sits up on the canvas not of her own volition but due to the sheer impact. With eyes fluttering, Max swoops in, grabs the shoulder and forces her to the canvas before throwing himself on top for the three count. Andy tries feebly to reach his feet and break up the pin but his body won’t even allow him to so much as crawl.

1

2

3

The crowd unleashes a simultaneous outpouring of applause as Max emerges triumphant from this quick, yet grueling three way.

Mark: A hard fought win for Craven here tonight, with his effort paying off in spades.

Susie: I like diamonds more, which is why I cry when I play Poker and I don’t have any in my hand. But Ethan always gives me some to keep me happy, especially when all I have are face cards.

Mark: Well Max proved as effective as a royal flush in this match, defeating this deadly pear in front of a full house.

Craven slowly ascends to his feet, no matter how much pain he may be plagued with at the moment. He attempts to rub at his wounded shoulder while staggering to the center of the ring. Craven regrets not clearing from the squared circle and moving even further inside of it once the gargantuan BFG blocks out all the lights and clobbers him to the upper back.

The lariat sends Craven collapsing to his elbows and knees with the massive BFG stomping him repeatedly to the upper back.

Moore: OH NO….IT’S KOOL-AID!

Mark: BFG once again assaulting Craven. Some real bad blood has developed between these two after last week’s tag team match.

Miho may be barely conscious but even with her legs finding it difficult to support her teetering frame she puts the boots to Max as well.

Mark: This is a two on one mugging by these damned Brat Pack cronies. Craven is in some serious need of assistance here. Right now would be nice.

Susie: Alright, I’ll take care of these guys with my Lasso of Truth.

Miho finally drops to the canvas and grabs both of Max’s arms, pinning them to the canvas and as such pinning Max’s entire body to the ring as well. BFG stops stomping and now goes rushing into the ropes, opting for a much more painful and career shortening maneuver, the big splash.

Mark: Their trying to cripple Craven.

Susie: If BFG kills Max with this splash, I call dibs on anything and everything shinny in his house, even the silver-wear.

BFG ricochets from the cables and his portly frame prepares to engulf Craven before the building is hit with a mood changer. From the backstage area rushes Rick-Rohl to deafening applause.

Comeau: Rick-Rohl is back again!

Moore: Yay! I knew it was wise to bring this roll of dollar bills, now start shaking it!

At the mere glimpse of Rick and his well defined frame sprinting to the ring, Miho and BFG head for the hills. They bail from the squared circle, leaving Craven behind where he’s tended to briefly by Rohl. Rick checks on Craven’s condition then begins shouting threatening comments to the pear at ringside.

Mark: The issues between these four are far from being settled. What’s going to happen when Rick-Rohl gets his hands on BFG?

Susie: Something really, really sexy?

Miho pretends to restrain BFG from the ring as the two move towards the ramp. Rick-Rohl nor BFG take their eyes off of one another, following each other intently with their penetrating stares. Obviously the tension between the two is mounting after the events last week and this dastardly attack on Max tonight.

AN ICONIC ARRIVAL

A Dodge Viper careens to a stop in the backstage parking facility and prepares to unleash its venom. Without much in the way of delay, the driver’s side door flies open and from within emerges an individual who has been away from the Manhattan Center for far too long.

Orlando Cruze pauses as he smells the fragrant aroma of exhaust fumes lingering within the enclosure. With a certain smugness that only the Icon can provide, Orlando slams his car door shut and proceeds towards the interior of the Manhattan Center. A pear of sunglasses so expensive they would probably exhaust one’s saving’s count, and a suit so fashionable it probably even make Johnny Kingdom jealous, adorns the frame of the IWC President.

He looks truly at home, but not at peace as he progresses towards the entrance. Even surrounded by cement inches thick he can hear the explosive reaction his presence has registered from the crowd.

Mark: Ohhh joy, I didn’t expect to see him here tonight. Orlando Cruze is in the Manhattan Center. I guess he cut his vacation short.

Moore: YAY! More bald people I can picture as phallic symbols.

Comeau: I wonder what has brought the Icon back to the IWC? Something tells me we won’t have to wait long to find out.

The reaction for Orlando continues to be positively orgasmic as he steps through a set of double doors and enters the building.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

The Greatest Evening Gown Match of All Times

AN OFFER YOU CAN’T REFUSE

“Outsider” filters through the PA system, and the crowd grows oh so excited. Although they may have despised him only a few short weeks ago, today they positively gush at the sight of Pat Evans. His attempts to make Christian Savior’s life miserable have not gone unnoticed, endearing himself perhaps unintentionally to the fans. He steps to the stage wearing one half of the Tag Team Title belts and a grimace on his face. As he proceeds up the steps and to the apron, he pauses just to make sure he’s hearing what he’s hearing, shocked, and almost offended by the sheer volume of cheers.

Mark: One half of the Tag Team Champions, Pat Evans has arrived and to what I might add is a “huge” reaction from this crowd.

Susie: I still don’t like him. Mostly because I forgot who he is.

Comeau: Somebody who won’t be so quick to forget Evans, is his partner Christian Savior. Last week Savior was FORCED into a tag team title match by Pat, and tonight he actually has to depend on him to retain his X-Class Title. Pat has done everything he can since Upping the Ante to ruin Savior’s life. And thus far, he’s actually been pretty effective.

Once inside of the ring Pat leans against a corner, swaying from side to side, almost anxious to continue making Savior as miserable as a former TV child star.

“Falling in the Black” pipes through the speakers and elicits a reaction almost as repulsive as a Tom and Roseanne Arnold sex tape.

Mark: Well, Savior said he was going to deal with Evans earlier then he took that weapon in hand and went off to find Pat, obviously he hasn’t caught up with him until now. So what is Christian going to do when they cross paths?

Susie: I bet they’ll play Monopoly. And if they do, I get to be the thimble this time.

Comeau: I hardly think board-games are in either man’s future. Unless of course it’s Operation.

Pat cannot help but to smile, no matter how atrophied his facial muscles may be. The first glimpse of Savior, adorned in wrestling gear, and wearing a look of utter dread consumes Evans with a strange emotion, glee. Christian looks almost humbled, demoralized that he’s forced into this situation, knowing that the X-Class Title placed over his shoulder rests on Evans’ compliance. Such a hope is set far, far too high.

He moves up the steps to the apron, giving Evans the type of look that would send anyone scrambling for a razor to slit their wrists.

What the crowd finds even more intriguing than Christian’s condemned expression, is the microphone he’s holding in his palm.

Christian: Pat…..let’s do what the chicks on Lifetime do….let’s do what Bill Cosby and Theo do…..let’s rap.

Such a request has Pat as frozen as a hamburger lodged in the back of the freezer. His face looks so twisted you would think he just put a thousand lemons in his mouth.

Mark: Rap?

Susie: I so hope this turns into a rap battle…..WEST SIDE!

Comeau: I think I just heard the sound of a thousand groans.

Savior: I’ve decided to take Rose’s approach to this whole situation, Evans…..

As much as it pains him, Christian endorses the “share your feelings” approach, so he paces back and forth, head lowered trying to remember how to talk from the heart. Which is incredibly difficult when you don’t even have one.

Christian: What that means is that I think we can solve our problems amicably, instead of playing this game.

Evans shrugs and blinks his eyes in rapid succession, acting aloof to whatever’s got Christian’s guts twisting.

Savior: I think you’ve proven your point, Pat. I’ve learned my lesson….I’m truly sorry we didn’t see eye to eye on that World Title match a few weeks ago…..

Evans: Eye to eye?

The thought has got Pat chuckling.

Pat: EYE TO EYE!?!

Christian: Now, now, I can tell your still a bit touchy on the whole subject, but hear me out.

Evans: I got a better idea. How about you save your breathe, and we start this match.

Savior: Not until you’ve heard my proposal.

Such proposals haven’t worked out for Evans in the past, so he’s not very eager to hear another.

Christian: I have a way to fix this whole torrid situation, one that involves very little bloodshed. To make amends for my “perceived” injustice at Upping the Ante, I’ll GIVE you my X-Class Title belt.

The fans take a collective gasp, but Evans offers nothing in the way of a response. Once again he’s frozen meat.

Mark: I’m sorry, but did I just hear Christian correctly? He’s going to GIVE his X-Class Title to Evans? What does he think Pat is, a dog in need of a bone?

Susie: That would explain the smell.

As the title is slipped from Savior’s shoulder into his palm and extended towards Pat, Evans can’t help but to be slightly tempted. He stares at the belt like it were forbidden fruit offered by a slick serpent.

Christian: I not only want us to be cool, Pat, but I want to show that I’m a man of my word. I told you that I would make you champion, that I would pass the torch. But you got it in your head that the torch I was trying to pass, was the World Title….noooooo…..God no…you got it all wrong, champ. When I said I was going to put gold around your waist, I meant I was going to repay you for your loyalty, by handing over one of the titles I won in my Road to El Dorado quest. You do remember that word by the way, loyalty?

Christian’s attempts to play at the small shred of honor in Evans seems to be working.

Savior: So how bout it. You take the belt, and we can be friends, AND, the greeeeattest tag team champions in the HISTORY of wrestling.

The Tag Team Championship is given a symbolic lift, but Evans’ eyes do not follow its transition. The gold extended towards him does captivate Pat though, looking at it like a piece of meat offered to a starving man. He just begins to raise his hand and take Savior up on his offer before the belt is pulled back and thrown to the safety of Savior’s shoulders.

Savior: There’s just one LITTLE catch though.

Mark: Of course.

Christian: You have to make sure we win this match first. THEN I’ll gladly hand you over the title. If you don’t trust me, it’s fine, because I have my lawyer backstage, and he will GLADLY write up a contract ensuring you that you get the title after we WIN…..

The fact that Christian expects Pat to fall for the same trick twice is truly disgusting. Evans slides his palm down his face, a grin actually peeking out from between his fingers. Christian reads the grin all wrong.

Evans: I help you retain your title, then your going to give me the belt?

Christian nods.

Pat: And you probably want me to sign this contract right?

Savior: It’ll only make it all the more official.

There are so many teeth forced into Savior’s grin that Evans can’t help imaging them as pins and his fist as the bowling ball.

Evans: Hmmm, huh, I’ll tell you what, Christian, that’s a TEMPTING offer.

Savior nods in agreement.

Pat: I’d have to be a fool not to accept.

Christian: And we all know you’re a regular rogue scholar.

Evans: But you haven’t even heard my counter offer, Christian.

Savior: Oh.

Pat: Yeah. It’s a counter offer that will benefit me much greater in the long run. An offer that will make EVERYONE happy.

Christian is already liking this idea before he’s heard it. Once the idea cracks him in the jaw and sends him toppling to the canvas, Christian suddenly realizes that he hates the offer entirely.

Mark: Evans just beamed Savior with a chain wrapped fist! THERE’S YOUR ANSWER.

The weapon removed from Evans’ pocket and wrapped about his knuckles leaves Christian out cold on the canvas.

Evans: That’s what I should have done four weeks ago!

Pat makes his defiant claim as he follows a rolling Christian until he spills under the ropes to the mats. The Rising Phoenix is on the corner of Dream Street and Slumber Land. His bell has not only been rung, it’s been cracked. Pat stares down at him over the ropes as referee Chester Princeton slides into the ring.

Mark: Savior is completely out! Now would be the best time for Evans to just leave the ring and watch his “partner” lose that X-Class Title.

Susie: Jeez, you’re more evil than the Olsen Twins. There’s something scary about those two. I think they can read my thoughts.

When Evans is accosted by Princeton, he responds with a remorseless grin. He’s quite pleased with his actions and the plan now forming in his head. That’s when………hits the PA system and with little delay, Simon Cagero and Too Magnificent storm to the stage. The crowd is thoroughly energized at this point, like they just stuck their fingers into an electrical socket. They positively surge with energy at the sight of the Magnificent One and the king of controversy, Cagero.

Mark: Here come the men who were supposed to challenge for the X-Class Title. But now I would have to assume that the match is called off due to Savior’s injury.

Mark’s contradicting speculation ends once Cagero and Too Magnificent jump to the apron and hesitate. Simon removes, but of course, a microphone from his pocket. The mic almost acts as another appendage or an extension of Simon’s lips considering their so close to each other so often.

Simon: Ummmm, okay. My brain is leaking…I must be suffering some type of stroke…I think maybe Too Mag and I drank some bad Margaritas last night…..obviously something is going haywire in my brain, because I could swear that Evans just developed a back bone, and better yet, did something clever!

Too Magnificent: HIP-HIP-HOORAY!

Too Magnificent claps obnoxiously and Evans suddenly remembers the little enticement he had for WANTING to compete in this match.

Cagero: I swear, if ever there was an appropriate time for a kazoo, it would be right now. But all that aside, Too Magnificent and I, did come to compete tonight. And much like you, we aren’t about to be handed jack fucking shit. No free meals around here. We work for our food, and our titles.

Too Magnificent: Although the titles taste awful.

Simon: What he said. Sooooo, although we enjoyed seeing Savior knocked on his ass, we want an actual challenge for that title, not an unconscious Christian. I guess you’ll just have to do.

Evans smirks, and actually shrugs. Christian has him so livid that he’s willing to face anyone, and the same can be said for Cagero who is already entering the ring.

Mark: So I guess we are going to get this match. Although I suppose now it’ll be under handicap rules considering Christian was knocked into next week.

Moore: Good, he can tell me what happens on the next Heroes.

Fitzpatrick has no other choice but to call for the bell, officially starting this match.

CHRISTIAN SAVIOR © & PAT EVANS
VS.
SIMON CAGERO & TOO MAGNIFICENT

Obviously Evans is starting out the match for his team, given the state of his partner. He eyes the conniving Cagero on the opposite side of the ring. They lunge at one another the second that the bell sounds and interlock arms.

Almost immediately Pat gets on the advantage, showing his technical skill by swinging around Cagero’s wrist and placing him in the arm ringer. A forearm is then thrown into the back of Simon’s bicep, bringing him down to a knee.

Evans steps over his opponent’s shoulder, mounting it so that Simon cannot stand back up.

Mark: Although I give Christian a lot of hate and very few props, I have to commend him on his tremendous technical wrestling abilities.

Susie: You can also give him credit for having the second greatest head of hair in all of the IWC, just beneath Porny Porn.

Savior wrenches back on the wrist while putting all his weight down on Simon’s shoulder. Just as the arm is about to be snapped out of socket, Cagero reaches out with his free hand, and hooks the front of Savior’s ankle. He lifts up on it, sending Christian crashing forward with Simon jumping over his back.

He twists in mid-air, lands in front of Christian and applies a front chancery, while also hooking one of his opponent’s arms.

Mark: And then Simon answers back with his own showing of technical wrestling abilities.

Susie: Wake me up when they start flying around like pixies. I love pixies.

Comeau: Well they probably don’t like you, in fact, I think your parents didn’t even love you.

Moore: That’s not true. Although there was that one time I woke up in a crate being mailed to China.

The front chancery has deprived all of the air to Christian’s head, transforming it to a bright red shade. He wedges both knees to the canvas, trying to will himself to his feet. From this kneeling base he swings his body of the front chancery, transitioning into a hammerlock on Simon’s arm. Cagero finds himself spread across his stomach while Savior kneels at his side, twisting his arm as far as it will go before breaking.

Mark: Nice fluid transition by Christian, continuing to focus on that arm.

Now it’s Simon fighting to a kneeling base with Savior hunched over behind him, continuing to tweak and wrench the arm with as much force as he can muster. Cagero slowly gets to his feet and reaches back, wrapping his arm around Savior’s neck then pushing up off of the canvas with his feet.

He lunges into the air only to fall right back down to the ring with a snapmare, flipping Savior over top of him and breaking free from the hammerlock in the same move. Christian tucks into a forward roll, ending up on his feet then charging back at Simon who catches him with an arm drag.

Once again Savior hits the canvas then rolls across it to his feet when Cagero comes charging in. Now it’s Savior who drops just in time to catch his inbound opponent with his own arm drag. Simon tucks into a forward roll, lunges into the air and lands feet first on the nearby set of ropes.

He lunges off of the middle cable, twists in mid-air and catches the rising Savior by his arm. The fans are floored as Simon hits the canvas and in the same motion hits the springboard arm drag.

Mark: NICE! A breathtaking arm drag by Cagero, who dazzles us on a weekly basis with his aerial precision.

Susie: Everything about Cagero dazzles me. Especially all his crazy haircuts. Hmmm, this battle between Simon and Savior shouldn’t be over a title, it should be about who has the better head of hair.

Comeau: How are you so consistently useless? How?

This arm drag seems to have finally done Savior in, he doesn’t rush to his feet like before, instead he remains grounded. His opponent however, is on his feet and barreling in. He reaches down, grabs Christian’s hand and tries to pull him up into the air.

Savior bridges himself from the canvas though then connects with another, you guessed it, arm drag. An absolutely stunned Simon is flipped over once more, crashing to the canvas spine first. All the while the Rising Phoenix gets to his knees beside him and traps his adversary’s arm in a submission.

Too Magnificent cries out to his partner, hoping to motivate Simon even as he finds himself trapped on the canvas and trapped in this hold.

Evans however, offers no motivational phrases, he remains as flaccid as a statue. The only time he opens his mouth is to yawn.

Mark: One partner trying to motivate his teammate, the other just looks entirely apathetic. I don’t think Christian will be making the tag anytime soon.

Susie: Good, gives me more time to imagine the things I’d do to his hair.

Comeau: Enough about the God forsaken HAIR! You bring it up every week.

Susie: It’s so hard not to. I think it’s trying to hypnotize me.

Savior remains kneeling at his opponent’s side, twisting at the bicep, determined to hear the oh so satisfying sound of a pop. Cagero deprives him of this wish, rolling backwards and ending up on his feet. Christian is too quick to fall for this, standing up and breaking the hold in favor of grabbing Cagero’s wrist then shooting him off into the ropes.

Simon bounces from the cables and comes back in at Christian who has dropped to his stomach in an attempt to trip his opponent. The quick witted Simon cartwheels over his opponent, but finds that his counter comes with strings attached.

Once Simon’s palms hit the canvas, Savior reaches out and grabs one of the wrists. He lunges to his feet beside a now kneeling Cagero and reapplies the arm ringer to the despair of a sold out Manhattan crowd.

Mark: Christian absolutely determined to earn the tap out victory over Cagero. He wants to put a definitive end to this issue between them and do so NOW!

Christian’s glee is about as short lived as Scott Baio’s popularity, thanks in no small part to a clubbing blow. Too Magnificent, who made the blind tag when Simon bounced off the ropes, is now in the ring determined to do some punishment.

Mark: Too Magnificent now in the ring sparing Simon any further grief resulting from that submission.

Susie: He’s such a loveable giant. So cuddly.

Comeau: I don’t think the word cuddly has ever been used to describe Too Magnificent before.

Too Magnificent’s forearm connects over Evans’ upper back before he’s spun around right into double handed goozle. Too Mag hoists Pat up for a choke-bomb only to have Christian deliver a knee strike in mid-air, landing right on his opponent’s broad jaw.

Mark: Nicely done by Evans. A knee strike in mid-air rattling Too Mag’s skull like a Japanese building in an earthquake.

Too Magnificent looks like he’s just had an anvil dropped on his head, watching the animated birdies as they twirl around him. That’s when Evans kicks him to the ribs, putting him in perfect position for the standard running knee strike to the face.

At the last conceivable second, Too Magnificent pulls his head back and sweeps Pat by the back to the center of the ring. He staggers forward and turns just as Too Mag rushes in to seize the advantage. That’s before he’s caught right on the jaw with a kick so swift and sick that it ALMOST takes the giant down.

Somehow he’s on both feet, albeit teetering from side to side like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Evans is quick to capitalize, realizing he won’t get very many opportunities like this in such an environment. He bounces from the ropes, comes back in at a dazed Too Magnificent who then side steps Evans yet again and this time catches him under his arm.

He hoists Pat up into a side slam while at the same time a recovered Simon is rushing into the ropes, springboarding from the middle one and twisting into a leg drop. The leg comes down right across Evans’ throat at the same time that Too Magnificent falls to his seat. The combination move leaves Pat absolutely rattled on the canvas, body convulsing in prime condition for the pin.

Too Magnificent is quick to hook both legs, anxious for the victory.

1

2

Evans launches a shoulder from the canvas, sparing himself the humiliation of defeat.

Mark: Some people might ask, “HEY, why is Evans kicking out, that’s not logical.” Well first, shut up, second, the will to win is obviously inspiring Evans. This isn’t about retaining or costing Christian the X-Class Title anymore, his ego just can’t stand a loss now that it’s HIM, on his own, against two loud mouthed opponents.

Susie: You know who else is loud?

Comeau: You, during sex?

Moore: Well….yeah, actually. I bought Ethan some earplugs though. Now he doesn’t have to worry about going deaf.

Mark: If only I could get a pair of earplugs to keep from going nuts, listening to you.

Evans looks determined to hold his own against two of IWC’s very best, his will to win clouding his judgment. He slowly rolls to his side but is quickly stomped to the back of the head by Too Magnificent.

The giant boot to skull results in a nasty thud that shakes Evans’ enormous brain in the small confines of his skull. He seems driven by instinct as he tries to crawl towards the ropes, looking for some form of salvation from the boots continuously stomping at his body.

Finally he reaches the cables, dragging himself up them when Too Magnificent steps in and throws his leg over the back of his head. Pat is choked against the cables thanks to all of Too Magnificent’s weight across the back of his head.

Mark: Too Magnificent just as determined to win that title for his partner Cagero as Evans is to win this match. His desire for victory demonstrated just last week when he pulled Rick-Rohl off the cover. That just shows he may want to screw with Christian, but he wants to win even worse.

Too Magnificent pulls Evans away from the cables at a count of four and then props him on his feet like he were lumber. A shoulder is wedged into Pat’s ribs as he’s powered backwards across the ring and driven kidneys first into the turnbuckle. His arms fall over the ropes to remain upright while Too Magnificent stands then unloads with a series of stomps to the ribcage.

Comeau: I’ve never seen Too Magnificent so pepped up before.

Susie: I get the same way just before I watch Power Rangers.

Mark: Thankfully we’re not in store for bad acting and people in horrendous costumes fighting each ot….wait, that’s exactly what we’re in for.

Too Magnificent stands and hits a dreaded back elbow right to Pat’s mouth, almost busting his lips. Evans would normally be upset at this point in time that he doesn’t have someone to tag out to, but considering that he put HIMSELF in this situation he has no room to complain. He can’t so much as gripe as another elbow drills him to the teeth, perhaps knocking a few loose.

The onslaught in the turnbuckle continues until Too Magnificent grabs Pat’s wrist and whips him off into the diagonal corner. Evans develops some real momentum as he travels into the turnbuckle, his sternum almost shattering upon impact. The collision sends him staggering backwards into the waiting bicep of the big man, Too Magnificent charging in to deliver a clothesline.

Evans ducks it however, causing Too Magnificent to rush chest first into the turnbuckle himself. He bounces off and stumbles backwards into the waiting arms of Evans, who gives the crowd a display of strength that is awe inspiring. He hoists Too Magnificent up into a huge Spinal Tap out of nowhere!

Mark: No he didn’t, no he didn’t!

Susie: Did he just lift that giant man?

Comeau: Although my brain is telling me that my eyes just hallucinated it, I think Evans DID just hit Too Magnificent with the Spinal Tap!

Moore: My hallucinations mostly involve Treasure Trolls. Treasure Trolls who tell me to put them in naughty places.

Mark: More on that later….a pin is happening in the ring right now, new champions about to be crowned.

The referee slides in and makes the count as Evans desperately hooks the thick leg of his opponent.

1

2

Simon delivers a stomp to the back of Evans’ head, breaking up the three count at the last second.

Comeau: Cagero saving that X-Class Title for himself. Remember, if Simon OR Too Mag pin Evans, then Cagero becomes champion, but it works both ways, because if Too Magnificent is pinned, than Simon looses his X-Class Title shot.

Before Evans even knows what’s what, his hair is snatched hold of and Cagero is yanking him to his feet. Once upright Pat is surprised by Simon bouncing off of the ropes then lunging into a big corkscrew kick. Pat just barely reaches out in time to catch the inbound foot of his opponent.

He steps around it as Simon falls to the canvas across his stomach, having been caught in the ankle lock. The shock level in the arena has just increased by a substantial voltage. There is so much electricity surging through the crowd, that’s the fans’ hair stands upright just as straight as their bodies. Some are so swept up into this madness that they are actually begging Cagero to submit so that Evans can pick up the win.

Mark: An absolutely AMAZING counter by Evans. I’ve never seen anyone reverse a corkscrew kick into an ankle like that in my entire wrestling career. Whenever Pat and Simon cross paths they define ingenuity.

Moore: Is that some type of fragrance? If so, I would suggest they pour a lot of it on Pat.

Simon’s gut wrenching roars of pain elicits sympathy from the vast majority of fans, gathering around the barricade urging him to reach the ropes. He wedges his palms to the canvas and begins to will himself in the direction of the ropes.

The sympathy transforms into elation from the crowd when Cagero provides a stunning counter. He tucks his head into a forward roll, sending Evans flying over his body and into the ropes. Pat flies through them and crashes onto the apron but catches the middle rope to prevent a full fall from the ring.

Evans just begins to stand when Simon tries to take him right back down via a big running forearm. He lobs his elbow at Pat’s head, only to have the technical tyrant duck out of the way at the last second. Simon is spun around by the momentum of his botched maneuver, his back now directed towards the man who just avoided a career shortening elbow to the skull.

Pat now tries to cut Simon’s career short by reaching over the ropes and trapping him in a Million Dollar Dream cobra clutch.

Mark: The rarely seen Time to Go to Sleep….can he get it applied on Cagero?

Simon struggles to keep from being trapped in the hold before finally pushing Pat’s arms aside and flipping completely over backwards. The Pele kick connects with enough force to knock Evans’ legs out from under him and once again leave the Tag Champion spread across his back on the apron.

Mark: Another beautiful counter by Cagero. That’s what it takes to be at Simon’s level, the experience to not only know how to hit big moves, but how to counter big moves as well.

Moore: Big is good, just look at my breasts.

Comeau: As if are attention wasn’t drawn to your cleavage enough.

Simon reaches his feet in a hurry, realizing that he’s not given very many opportunities as perfect as these. Evans is in a position that Simon can very easily exploit. He slips through the ropes and ascends the turnbuckle, reaching the very top rope where he steadies himself to fly.

Mark: I don’t know what Simon’s got planned, but right now would be a good time to start holding your breathe.

Simon steadies himself as best as he can, which may prove costly. Finally he takes flight, soaring through the air and crashing down with both feet for the double stomp. Unfortunately, his feet do not crack ribs, they meet the stubborn, unbreakable surface of the apron.

The disappointed fans watch as Evans rolls under the ropes back into the ring, avoiding the double stomp by mere seconds. Cagero grabs the top rope, settling for plan B. He begins to go springboard but Evans leaps into the air and meets him with a European Uppercut right to the jaw. The strike is so traumatizing that it leaves Simon momentarily befuddled.

He falls back to his feet on the apron and is spun around so that his back is facing the ring. Pat hooks both of his armpits and to the astonishment of almost everyone in the building, lifts Simon into the air for the From the Outside In.

Mark: Now Evans is going to hit the crucifix powerbomb! He’s actually going to win this match and possibly walk away with that X-Class Title. And Savior would be powerless to do anything about it.

Evans begins to rush towards the center of the ring and send Simon airborne only to run right into the wide palm of his forgotten opponent. Too Magnificent catches Evans around the throat, causing him to drop Simon and go as pale as a snowflake.

He’s hoisted into the air by the snarling challenger, about to put him through the canvas with a chokeslam.

Mark: Now this is a quick reversal of fortunes.

Moore: It took Evans quicker to loose the advantage than it does me to find Waldo. I spent six hours the other day looking for him. The Nazi bastard.

Just before he can take flight and meet a nasty landing, Evans delivers a swift kick directly to Too Magnificent’s knee. The big man is forced to release his grip on Pat’s throat as Evans quickly takes him around the head, preparing to deliver a thunderous DDT that would no doubt go a long way in ending this confrontation.

Mark: I hope Too Magnificent has paid his insurance bills, because his brains are about to be scrambled.

Before any scrambling of any kind can happen, Evans’ hopes for planting Too Magnificent’s skull to the canvas is ended by the abrupt, rib cracking spear delivered unto him.

Comeau: WHOOOOAA!

The fans react in much the same way, both stunned and disgusted simultaneously at the sight of Savior spearing his own partner. Revenge for Christian has obviously got in the way of his better judgment, because now Evans is not only laid out by the spear, but the momentum has sent Too Magnificent flipping forward into a cover. His back is stretched across Pat’s ribs as the official does his job, dropping to make the three count.

Mark: Savior spearing Evans, and ironically this may have just cost him the X-Class Title.

Moore: Christian will have far less bright and shinnies to play with now. Oh well, te-he, he can always play with my teeth, if Porny Porn doesn’t mind.

Despite the circumstances of the pin, the crowd cannot help but to count along with each slap of the canvas.

1

2

3!

The fans have an orgasmic reaction at the sight of Too Magnificent pinning Pat Evans, and by virtue of said pinfall, winning the X-Class Title for one Simon Cagero.

Mark: It’s over, by George we have ourselves a NEW champion!

Susie: Yay! But my name isn’t George, although I might change it to that eventually.

The crowd is licking this up like kittens drinking from a milk saucer. They suckle at the tit of Cagero’s success like piglets at their momma’s nipples. Simon pulls himself up into a corner, at first wondering why the sudden shift occurred in the crowd’s reaction but now realizing, by way of his entrance music playing over the PA system, that he’s just won the title.

Comeau: I don’t even think Simon can believe this. For the second week in a row, one of his opponents have given him a victory, but this time, through a complex set of circumstances, Simon has won the X-Class Title!

Christian has returned to the sanctuary of the outside mats where he stands and props himself against the apron. He still looks incredibly shaken up by the shot with the chain from Evans, but he shows no remorse over costing HIMSELF the X-Class Title.

The belt that Christian has lost has been found by the referee, who begins to take it to Simon only to run into a brick wall, a near seven foot brick wall that is. The Master of the Midas Touch grabs the gold from the referee’s clutches and ever so briefly examines his reflection in the sparkling plate. Much like Evans, he seems tempted by it, embracing the idea of once again wearing a championship around his waist.

However, the second his eyes meet Cagero’s, he realizes that his ambitions can wait, and that this isn’t HIS moment. Therefore, in an act of true sportsmanship, Too Magnificent hands the X-Class title over to the new champion, then goes as far as to hoist him up onto his shoulders.

Once on Too Magnificent’s broad shoulders, Simon lifts the X-Class Title up high to a reaction that is simply deafening.

Mark: Once again we have a NEW X-Class Champion, and ironically, Evans won the title for Savior by not pinning the champion, and Christian has just lost the belt even though it was Evans who got pinned.

Susie: You’ve just made me go cross-eyed.

An all too appropriate “Simon” chant has started from the crowd as Cagero is hoisted high, just like the X-Class Title raised above his head. He can’t help but to feel just a little pleased with himself, polishing the title with his wrist tape. He coughs onto the surface, polishes it some more then raises it into the air, the crowd so excited they look on the verge of throwing a tickertape parade. Too Magnificent would be happy to carry him straight through the center of the city.

Mark: A major victory for this team here tonight that has just netted Simon the X-Class Championship.

Susie: Tell me we’re going to celebrate and there’s going to be clowns. Tell me there will be clowns. TELL ME!

The celebration continues even as Cagero and Too Magnificent vacate the ring. A sweaty, tired Simon lifts the X-Class Championship as high into the air as his winded body will allow. The only person who doesn’t join in on all the festivities is Christian, his back turned to the celebrating Cagero and Too Magnificent as he leans on the apron for support. His chilling gaze is focused upon his partner.

Mark: Tough luck for Savior tonight, although he kind of cost HIMSELF the title by virtue of that spear.

Moore: It’s hard when you loose something sparkly, believe me.

MIND GAMES

The very spear that cost Christian the X-Class Title continues to debilitate Evans. He rolls to his side, wedging his knees and his elbows to the canvas. The pain flowing through his battered ribcage is pushed aside as he tentatively begins to ascend to his feet.

The crowd applauds Evans, despite coming up on the loosing end, they realize that he did the honorable thing by at least trying to win this confrontation. Clearly Evans could care less about their reaction, although for him it is a bit humbling, but nowhere near as humbling as what awaits him. The moment he reaches his feet, Evans is almost split in half by a big running spear.

Mark: ANOTHER spear by Savior. Who knows what type of internal damage that just did.

Susie: I do, but only because I play Operation a lot.

Evans is almost flipped over by the sheer force of the spear, that now leaves him all but crippled on the canvas. He wraps his arms around his mid-section as Christian crawls up beside him and takes his hair into his hands. He makes sure that Pat is still conscious by forcing one of his eyes open.

Savior: You think you can play your mind games on me, ME!?!

A somewhat intimidating chuckle emanates from the Rising Phoenix.

Christian: Your in over your head, Pat. You have no power over me, or my Road to El Dorado. I’m in control, you hear me, I’m the one pulling the strings you son of a bitch!

Savior snatches the co-holder of the Tag Team Titles around the neck and lifts him up to his feet. The moment that Evans is upright, Christian lunges into the air and drags him down face first into the canvas with the diamond cutter.

Mark: Savior is just mauling Evans!

Susie: With all that hair he does kind of resemble a lion. Or that green dude from Street Fighter, although Christian does have a better complexion.

Evans is lost, his mind out there in the ether. He seemingly has no idea where he is as the vengeful Christian continues to exact his revenge. He takes hold of Pat’s hair and yanks him up to his feet. Once upright Pat is doubled over and charged across the ring, thrown shoulder first through the ropes and into the exposed steel turnbuckle post.

Pat’s pain snaps him back into consciousness as he’s dragged away from the turnbuckle back to the center of the ring.

Savior: You can’t cost me anymore matches, Evans, if you can’t compete.

The venomous Savior charges Evans across the ring and once again pitches him through the ropes shoulder and clavicle first into the unforgiving steel. The blow almost cracks Pat’s collar bone and leaves him in no position to defend himself from the escalating onslaught.

Mark: This needs to stop. It’s gone far enough already.

As Evans slowly, desperately tries to recover, Christian impedes his recuperation by backing into the opposite corner and crouching. His twiddling fingers are raised, gesturing upward with his palm as he waits for Pat to get up. Evans slowly, instinctively drags himself to his feet by virtue of the turnbuckle.

Finally he’s upright and turning back towards the center of the ring when Christian comes barreling in and delivers a third Blaze of Glory. At this point Pat is lying on the canvas actually coughing up blood as Savior kneels before him, his whole body trembling with rage and insanity.

Mark: This has gone far enough, Christian, you’ve already exacted your revenge on Evans, leave him be already…..

You Know My Name plays through the PA system and leads to a reaction so explosive it threatens to take down the entire Manhattan Center.

Comeau: I guess we’re about to find out what has brought Orlando Cruze back home.

Moore: He probably isn’t comfortable using public toilets.

Orlando’s presence is like an underwater earthquake, leading to a tsunami of cheers. Although it’s been a few weeks since Cruze’s face was in front of a camera, and the eyes of several nations were upon him, there are no jitters, butterflies, whatever, in his stomach. He looks as if he never went on sabbatical, although his presence has been surely missed by the fans these past few weeks.

Mark: I’m sure we’re all glad to see Orlando again….

Moore: How can you when the gleam from his head is so blinding?

Comeau: But I’m equally as sure that Savior isn’t as pleased as the rest of us.

Mark’s idle speculation is right on given the twisted expression on Christian’s face and the warped gleam in his eyes.

Orlando: Hey there Christian, did you miss me?

A reaction so loud it could not only wake the dead but get them to start doing the Thriller dance emanates from the oh so excited fans. Christian shakes his head, suddenly remembering just why he despises Cruze on every conceivable level.

Cruze: How about you people? Did you miss your ICON!?!

His question is answered with an overwhelming chorus of cheers. While the ovation inspires Orlando, all it does to Christian is make him feel queasy.

Orlando: Not to turn this into a Hallmark movie of the week or anything, BUT I missed you all too. So sorry I haven’t called or wrote or anything, but your Icon has had quite a couple of weeks, very, VERY busy weeks. Not only have I been handling matters behind the scenes, ie talent acquisitions, booking shows in new venues, improving our street cred, generating new ideas to make the IWC a true media darling, but I even found time to take my kids snorkeling.

Clearly by the reaction the fans either really, really like snorkeling, or are just enamored with every word Orlando utters.

Cruze: But I’m not here to discuss my vacation time, or lack there of. I’m here because this whole “King for a Day,” in just two weeks has turned the IWC into a battlefield. Mostly thanks to a certain someone in the ring.

Christian checks over both shoulders, motions to himself, then directs an accusative finger to the bludgeoned Evans.

Orlando: Noooo, although he certainly hasn’t helped matters. Now stop being coy Christian, you know, I know, everyone knows who I’m talking about…..

Savior: So wait, wait….I get all the blame?

A microphone was forced out of the hand of Kailey Worf who was standing too close to the ring. Savior immediately puts it to use in order to defend himself.

Christian: When all I did was TRY to do something that you couldn’t, by making this show entertaining, and putting the World Title on a REAL champion.

Nobody, possibly even Christian’s immediate family, would buy that last line of dribble but he continues lashing out nonetheless.

Savior: But I’m sure you’ve already prejudged me, Cruze. That you decided to come here, put on a pissing contest, abuse your power a hundred times worse than Dan Douglas ever did, and then punish me through some horrendous over the top match that even TNA wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole. So go ahead, get on with it, be biased, be judgmental, punish the only person who actually still earns ratings around here. Prove that absolute power has corrupted you absolutely.

Orlando: You know me oh so well don’t you, Christian?

Savior nods affirmatively.

Cruze: Well I’m afraid you know NOTHING.

The nodding stops and now Christian just stews.

Orlando: You may not be the sole reason behind all the madness running amok here in the IWC, but you are one of the instigators. And your instigating has led to all out war. But far be it from me to stifle what this roster wants. I gave them absolute power, and if it’s war they want, it’s war they’re going to get.

Savior: What the hell are you babbling about? Can’t you see I’m trying to end a man’s career here?

Cruze: Fine, I’ll get to my point. Never before in the IWC have we had such an environment where pretty much everyone was feuding with everyone. Where the titles changed hands on such a regular basis. Where so many rivalries are interconnecting, and gradually building towards an explosion, and frankly, there’s only one way to save this company from such an explosion.

Christian: You call this getting to the point?

Orlando: My point is this, at the Overbooked Extravaganza, I’m going to give everyone on this roster want they want, a chance to get their hands on as many people as humanly possible. I’m going to resurrect a match that hasn’t been seen in over two years, ever since the IWC took a little trip overseas to Japan. I’m talking about the Tag Team Gauntlet!

Savior: The what?

Cruze: Yep, the Tag Team Gauntlet returns in Philly, but you know….the match just doesn’t feel special enough yet. It’s missing something.

He snaps his fingers in an attempt to figure out what the bout is missing. Finally the light-bulb clicks on above his head.

Orlando: OH YEAH! How about I take the concept I had for the four corner survival at Upping the Ante and I apply it to this match as well? Basically, what I mean, is that EVERY champion who participates in this match must put their title on the line. And of the six teams I plan on incorporating into this gauntlet, I’ve already chosen two, who coincidently happen to be champions. Those teams being, the duo of World Heavyweight Champion Johnny Kingdom and AWOL….

The crowd is now super excited at the thought of the Empire not only entering the gauntlet, but also defending the World Heavyweight Title in said match. The thought even appeases Savior, slightly.

Orlando: AND….the Tag Team Champions, Christian Savior and Pat Evans!

Any pleasure Christian has evaporates quicker than water under a heat-lamp. His features twist and contort with rage as he realizes what Orlando is doing.

Orlando: So, basically, Savior, your Road to El Dorado will continue, but in order for you to leave with any titles at the Overbooked Extravaganza II, including your Tag Team Titles, you’ll once again have to depend on Evans.

Very few things amuse Orlando in life, but the one thing that always gives him joy is making Christian suffer. He seems to have accomplished as much here tonight, hence the reason he’s backing towards the curtains and security is now rushing out to come to a traumatized Evans’ care. Instead of looking irate though, or even phased by this startling announcement, Savior merely cracks a grin.

Savior: Hahahaha, not even back a full day yet and already grossly abusing your power. You were wise to stay home, Orlando, to stay away from temptation. It's corrupted you, it's rotted you to your core. Don't believe me, well I'll show you Orlando, I'll show you that this decision is based on nothing more than your biasness, than your corruption.

Orlando rolls his eyes, clearly not taking Savior's words seriously.

Christian: Oh, and the way I see it, CRUZE, I’d only have to worry about Pat, if he actually makes it to the match. Otherwise, I’ll have no problem whatsoever running the gauntlet on my own.

The microphone is thrown aside and Christian goes right back to stomping at the already wounded Evans. The fans are jumping all over his case with words, while security jumps all over Christian with their hands, trying desperately to pull him away from the technical tyrant.

Mark: A major announcement just made by Orlando Cruze. The return of the Tag Team Gauntlet at the Overbooked Extravaganza II, six teams competing, and we already know that both the World and Tag Team Titles will be defended in that match. That pay-per-view just got HUGE! It’s already living up to it’s title, that’s for sure.

Susie: I would have given the PPV a prettier name, like IWC Flower Power. That just sounds awesome.

Comeau: Who else is going to be involved in this match? What other titles will be on the line? How many title changes are we going to see? There’s a load of possibilities when we head to Philadelphia.

Christian continues to deliver stomps to the prone body of Evans before he’s pulled completely off of his partner. The Rising Phoenix looks like a rabid dog free from the leash, not satisfied until he’s tasted blood.

A LONG STORY

Michelle: Sooo, Axl….

As if the Manhattanites didn’t have enough cause for celebration now they’re positively glowing at the sight of Axl Evermore. The former Cartel Champion stands just off to Michelle’s side, head lowered, eyes distant, expression blank. Something about him, physically, mentally, and spiritually seems to be off. Blacker picks up on as much as she proceeds with her question from the standard interview area.

Blacker: It pretty much all comes down to tonight, huh?

Evermore doesn’t respond, very deep in thought, quietly contemplating the bout scheduled for just moments from now. Michelle tries to clarify her point.

Michelle: After everything that has happened over the past few months, your rocky title reign, your loss of the Cartel Title to Psycho, your disappearance and reemergence, the story could come to an ABRUPT end in just a few moments.

Axl: What? Did you think I would forget, or overlook that?

Blacker: Oh dear, have I made you angry. Here’s my arm, feel free to punish me with an Indian burn.

Evermore may not abuse Michelle’s raised arm, but he doesn’t push it away.

Evermore: I know that my quest to regain the Cartel Title could very well end should I be unable to beat Sean Johnson….your not telling me anything I already didn’t know, Michelle.

Michelle: So how does that make you feel?

Axl: Frankly, the idea of Sean Johnson walking away as the number one contender and leaving me out in the cold after everything Psycho and I have put each other through, is, oh, I don’t know, a tad upsetting.

Blacker: Good. Feel free to take it out on me, I have some cigarettes you can extinguish on my skin.

Evermore: Eaaaaasssy. Space Michelle, give me some.

Blacker backs up and settles for hurting herself by pulling at her hair.

Axl: Like you said, the issue between Psycho and I has been like a story, and I don’t feel that the final chapter has been written yet. So if I go out there tonight, and I lose to Sean Johnson, I’ll never receive another shot at the Cartel Title again, and I’ll deprive my fans of the ending they deserve. A climax where I stand in the ring, look Psycho eye to eye, and prove without a shadow of a doubt that he’s holding MY Cartel Title, and that I can pin him for the 1…..

Psycho isn’t who you should worry about!

A forearm crashes into Axl’s upper back and knocks the former Cartel Champion to the concrete. Michelle instinctively clears out of the way and now wishes she hadn’t, given just how much pain Evermore seems to be in. As Axl’s assailant steps into the camera’s view the motivation behind this attack becomes much clearer.

Sean Johnson: Do you remember me? Do ya? Ya SHOULD. I’m your opponent tonight, and I’m the future Cartel Champion.

Johnson’s words are spoken with conviction and rage, having himself all pumped up for this number one contenders match, a match that for him has been long in the making. This time he’s not taking any risks as he delivers a stomp to the back of a shaken Axl’s head, almost taking him all the way to the concrete. A stunned Evermore is dragged to his feet at this point by one of his many rivals, Sean working as quickly as possible to drag him to the ring and seize the advantage.

Mark: Sean Johnson attacking Axl Evermore right in the middle of an interview. He wants that number one contenders match now, and he wants to settle this rivalry with Axl once and for all. We’ll try and keep up with this brawl throughout the commercial break. The number one contenders match is up next, don’t go anywhere.

Susie: I don’t have a choice.

Michelle watches the two men scuffle their way to the ring and licks her lips in satisfaction.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Oh well, at least it’s better than being the Bastian Booger

SEAN JOHNSON VS. AXL EVERMORE
CARTEL TITLE #1 CONTENDERSHIP

The cameras are once again rolling, coming back to the action at a very appropriate time.

Mark: Welcome back to Riot!, and as everyone can see the brawl over the Cartel Title contendership has now spilt out here to ringside, where it should have begun in the first place.

Apparently Axl isn’t complacent with being Sean’s punching bag, now throwing shots of his own as the two find themselves exchanging jabs down the ramp. The previously mentioned cameras try to move out of the way of the insanity, but one is unlucky enough to be knocked over by Sean who was sent spiraling by an Evermore haymaker.

Susie: Leave the cameras alone boys. How else is the world going to see how beautiful I am?

Mark: I think you have more of a face for radio, Susie. What everyone really needs to see is this action. After so many weeks of attacks, Sean and Evermore are finally set loose and will finally decide without a shadow of a doubt, who goes on to challenge for that Cartel Championship.

Clearly the crowd is just as enthused as the competitors themselves over this match. As Evermore’s fist nails Sean’s jaw he remembers the numerous pedigrees he’s suffered over the past few weeks. As Sean responds with a few blows of his own he recalls Axl’s dive from the balcony and the shirt thrown disrespectfully into his face upon Evermore’s return.

Referee Stuart Wright is rushing down the ramp after both men, desperately trying to get some control of them. He looks more on edge than an exotic animal trainer about to stick his head into the mouth of a lion. And that’s exactly what both men are, feral, untamable animals, giving into their primal instincts.

The fists only stop flying long enough for Sean to grab Axl by the head and charge him at the stairs. Evermore is unable to prevent his face from being introduced to the steel. His skull is rattled by the collision that sends him falling into the apron.

Comeau: These guys already using everything around the ringside area to their disposal. Remember, this match hasn’t gotten started yet, so right now, they can do whatever they want to each other.

It’s almost as if Sean heard what Mark had to say as he approaches a fan seated in the front row and actually steals their crutch.

Mark: Sean just took a man’s crutch!

Susie: Serves that fan right. Not only do handicap people get the best parking spots, but they get the best seats in the arena too.

Comeau: You should know that all too well.

Sean swings with the weapon and misses, the wooden crutch shattering upon impact with the apron. As chunks go flying in all different direction, Evermore takes flight as well. He soars into Sean’s upper back, giving him a big splash that slams Johnson’s sternum into the apron.

A groan emanates from Johnson as he tries to cover up his chest and in the process turns into a jaw popping European Uppercut. The strike has Johnson stumbled, his planned attack going horribly awry at this point. He turns away from Axl and tries to create some space, having no idea what his opponent is doing behind his back.

Axl has grabbed the top half of the stairs and is ripping them away from the lower portion. The crowd grows excited as Evermore finds the strength to hoist the steps into the air and then throw them straight at a turning Johnson’s face.

Sean spins around just in time to duck and avoid the stairs that go flying over his head. Having his life flash before his eyes puts things into perspective for Johnson, helping him to realize that maybe the ring would be safer. Therefore, Johnson rolls under the ropes and spots Axl following right behind.

Before Evermore can reach his feet Sean is on top of him, stepping over his head and then attempting to hook both arms.

Mark: Pedigree already!?!

Susie: My nails could sparkle a little brighter.

Comeau: Not a pedicure you idiot, a pedigree.

Evermore suddenly reaches out and snatches Sean by the creases of his knees, lifting his legs up into the air. The Griffin collapses to his back and now his opponent tries to lock him in a single Boston Crab. Unfortunately for Evermore, his move pans out about as well as Sean’s, being counted into a quick small package.

1

Axl clears a shoulder from the canvas before scrambling to his feet. Sean rises to meet him, going for a lariat that is successfully avoided via a duck. Sean is gripped by terror, not knowing what awaits him as he spins around into a boot to the ribs, Evermore setting for the Fully Loaded Stunner.

Now it’s Axl who finds himself alarmed though, realizing that his foot has been caught in Sean’s clutches. He looks between the hands holding his ankle to his rival’s face, where a grin has started to form. Johnson pushes down on the ankle, causing Evermore’s foot to hit the canvas and for the momentum to send him twisting into a semi-circle. His back is aimed to Sean just long enough for Johnson to wedge his hands to Axl’s back and shove him off into the ropes.

Axl bounces from the cables, comes back in at Sean and is caught against his shoulder, being powered up into a spinning spinebuster. All the air is knocked out of Axl’s lungs and the fight seems taken out of his body. He’s in perfect position for Johnson who stands then flips forward into the jackknife cover.

1

2

Although the Griffin came closer to claiming the number one contendership, it wasn’t close enough. The amazing Evermore kicks out seconds before a full three count be rendered and his shot at the Cartel Title could pass him by.

Mark: A powerful spinebuster almost picked Sean up a victory, but Evermore cannot allow that to happen. You can just see how badly both these men want Psycho, and want another opportunity at that Cartel Championship.

Susie: They’d have to be bad, no, no, evvvvviiiillll, to want to hang out with the Cartel Title.

Comeau: Your still beating that dead-horse?

Moore: It gives me something to say.

The crowd is so thoroughly swept up into this fast paced fray, their guts twisting with everyone of Sean’s nearfalls. Johnson goes back to the drawing board and does so quickly, rising to his feet and promptly putting a boot right to Axl’s teeth. The blow causes Evermore’s body to nip up into the air before rolling towards the ropes for salvation.

Johnson then rushes up behind him and drops an elbow, preventing him from reaching the sanctuary. The point of the elbow to the back of the head, also leaves Evermore laid out in a position Sean would have to be a fool not to exploit.

He’s already going high risk, slipping through the ropes and hoping to deliver a blow with enough impact to finally keep Evermore’s shoulders pinned to the canvas. Even in the heat of the moment, Sean pauses and encourages the crowd to give him some praise. They aren’t very quick to fork it over.

Mark: Axl may be in perfect position, but it’s always a gamble going up top.

Susie: This sport has made me terrified of heights. That and all those times I jumped off the top of my garage thinking I could fly. Some of my bones still haven’t mended.

Comeau: You’ve been going around with broken bones since you were a kid?

Susie: Huh? This happened last week.

Johnson continues up the turnbuckle and now steps over it, sitting himself on the top rope. He slaps his knuckles into his palm, preparing the fans for his diving fist drop. Evermore isn’t prepared to take it however. He stands up and charges at Sean only to run into a raised boot from the Griffin.

The kick has Axl almost collapsing right back down to the canvas, but he somehow stays upright by swinging his arms. Johnson now has to improvise, taking flight with a front dropkick from the top rope that is side stepped at the last second.

Sean comes crashing spine first into the ring with absolutely nothing to show for his troubles but blinding pain.

Mark: Sean proving why going up top isn’t always the best solution.

Johnson just sits up on the canvas as Axl rushes into the ropes in front of him, bounces off then lunges forward into a knee strike to the face that threatens to push Sean’s nose up into his brain. He collapses to his back with Evermore falling into the ropes, leaning on them to stabilize his traumatized body.

Once he’s got his legs planted beneath him, Evermore pounces on his recovering opponent. Johnson has already risen to his knees as Axl moves in, giving him the perfect vantage point to launch himself head first into his opponent’s ribcage.

Axl is doubled over, the air knocked from his lungs, but he refuses to be taken down. He steps in once more as Johnson goes for yet another headbunt to the ribcage, only this time Evermore catches him around the neck with a front chancery. He then drags Johnson to his feet and connects with a swinging neckbreaker.

The moment that Sean hits canvas Axl is back to his feet and actually approaching the cables. He slips through them to the apron and then grabs the top rope, preparing for God only knows what. Whatever his plans are he has to act quickly considering that Johnson is already recovering.

The Griffin gets to a knee and begins to force his way to his feet just as Axl lunges over the top rope. Whatever Evermore had in store it’s too late now, his weary body just couldn’t move fast enough to avoid being caught across Johnson’s shoulders.

Mark: Sean catching Axl in mid-air and now he has him in a fireman’s carry.

Moore: Ewww, excellent, I do love firemen. Especially firemen played by Jean Claude Van Damm.

The fans gasp at the sight of Sean stretching Evermore across his shoulders and now proceeding to the center of the ring. He begins to set up for the death valley driver only to have Axl squirm free, landing behind his opponent and capturing his arm in the process.

A horrified Johnson finds himself in perfect position for Axl to clamp on his version of the fujiwara and obtain an immediate tap out victory.

Comeau: Brilliantly timed counter! Evermore could be on his way to another shot at the Cartel Title!

Johnson doubles over but refuses to be dragged down to the canvas, realizing that it would spell disaster for him. He tries to keep both feet planted to the canvas, grinding his teeth as he fights his way free from the attempted fujiwara. He spins his body around out of the submission and turns just in time to be hit with a kick to the gut.

Sean is doubled over and Axl quickly takes him around the neck.

Mark: The Fully Loaded!

Now the crowd gasps not out of alarm, but out of joy before they see Axl shoved off into the ropes yet again. He bounces off and comes back at Sean who bends forward, setting for another spinebuster. The Sex & Violence member leaps over him and continues into the cables behind his back.

He bounces off and comes back at Johnson who turns and delivers the Titanic Kick.

Several fans shield their eyes, unable to watch, which blinds him to the fact that Axl has dropped into a baseball slide, avoiding the kick. He then stands up as Johnson spins around and receives a kick to the stomach, followed by the Fully Loaded stunner.

Mark: Now he hit, now he hit it! The stunner connecting.

Susie: Let’s throw a party. I’ll bake my special mud cookies.

Although Sean is still standing it’s obvious by the glazed over gleam in his eyes that he’s nowhere near conscious. Just before his legs could give out, Axl kicks him to the gut, doubling him over then hooks both arms. The fans are almost rabid at this point as Evermore delivers the Flipside!

Mark: And Axl follows it up with the Flipside. Are we about to see the crowning of a new Cartel Title contender?

Evermore slips into the lateral press and hooks Johnson’s leg in the process, hoping to hear perhaps the most gratifying sound of his life.

1

2

3

Everyone in the Manhattan Center rejoices, overwhelmed with a compulsion to break into a sudden parade.

Mark: It might not have lasted long, but Axl has just survived a very intense match, and now he will get his rematch against Psycho for the Cartel Championship.

Susie: Can we still have mud cookies?

Axl rises to his knees, muscles aching and sweat rolling down his features. He may be battered and worn but the physicality was all worth it in order to emerge victorious over his rival and get one final crack at Psycho.

Mark: Axl has taken step one in his road to reclaiming the Cartel Title, let’s hope there won’t be anymore detour….HEEEYYY!

Before Mark can finish his sentence, just as he feared a major roadblock has been thrown up in front of Evermore. A roadblock in the form of a trash can wielding maniac. Axl turns to the stage where Too Magnificent is now located, the big man standing tall with two weapons in both hands. A trash can occupies one palm, and glass in the shape of a brick is present in the other.

Evermore clinches his fists, preparing himself for round two. He knows just how much Too Magnificent desires the Cartel Title as well, and just what the deranged goliath is capable of when somebody stands between he and the championship.

Mark: One can only imagine why Too Magnificent has come out here.

Susie: Maybe he’s going to show off his pretty trash can. It is awfully cute.

The weapon that Susie alluded to is now raised aloft for symbolic purposes. Too Magnificent makes his symbolism as apparent as possible by motioning from the can to Axl’s face. Axl is riding an emotional high, therefore Too Mag’s attempts to threaten him do nothing to rattle the new number one contender.

Too Magnificent: You’re not going to take MY title Evermore. I hold all the power, and I hold all the secrets.

Even the menacing sparkle in the demented eyes of the big man does not offend or frighten Axl. Ice courses through Axl’s very veins.

BREATHE

Katie: That’s right just breathe. Your doing good.

A brown paper bag is held to Robin’s lips as she staves off hyperventilating. Steward stands beside her, instructing Brooks like she were her Lamaze coach. Unfortunately it becomes increasingly difficult to console Robin with Buehler yapping incessantly in the background.

Katelyn: Not only was that perv staring at my tits through the whole match, and thinking God only knows what, but he hit me, he hit ME.

Katelyn stops pacing long enough to rub at her lower back.

Katie: Will you stop complaining about Adams for two seconds? Don’t you see the stress this woman is under?

Steward brushes back Robin’s hair and pats her lightly on the top of the head.

Steward: Oh by the way, probably a bad time to bring this up, but Hurse asked me out again.

The brown bag begins to expand even wider, Brooks’ breathes becoming more labored.

Buehler: I’ll stop complaining once we’ve taken action. Something needs to be done about Jackson, and it needs to be done tonight. I’d put my foot done but this boot is super expensive and makes me look totally hot, so I’m not gonna chance damaging it.

Katie: SHUSH!

Buehler does a double take, eyes blinking rapidly.

Katelyn: Did you just shush me?

Steward: Robin has a lot on her palate right now, she can’t be dealing with Adams…

Buehler: That’s all she should be dealing with. Jackson is playing us. Believe me, I know players, I’ve slept with plenty, and that’s exactly what Jackson is, a no good, two timing player. And you know what players give you, HERPES, and that shit spreads everywhere!

Katie: Do you have a point? Your ranting is making it hard for me to concentrate, and I’d much rather be carrying on a stimulating conversation with myself.

Buehler tries to remember what her point was, or if she even had one.

Katelyn: Erm, yeah. I have a point, and a darn good one too. We need to apply ointment to the infected skin and get rid of the venereal disease known as Jackson Adams. Look at what he’s already done tonight. I had the Empire right where I wanted them, yet he screws our team over by getting us disqualified. And he even gets you into this lumberjack match later tonight. He’s going to be the downfall of the Brat Pack, I’m telling you.

Steward: Are you sure your not just saying this because he has a penis?

Buehler: Says him. I’ve never seen it, and most guys are showing it to me within ten seconds of having met them. I know he doesn’t have balls at least, which is another reason we should take him out.

The arguing between her sisters does little to calm Brooks, and her blood pressure only rises when the door flies open and Jackson comes strutting in. He walks like a rooster into the henhouse, chest pushed out and a confident swagger in his step.

Katelyn: Let’s get him now!

With fingernails extended Buehler lunges at Adams, only for Katie to quickly subdue her. She grabs both of Katelyn’s wrists even as the N.H.B Champion tries to fight free. Somehow Steward is able to subdue her long enough for a smiling Jackson to speak. The moment he opens his mouth Buehler becomes even more overwhelmed with rage.

Adams: It’s okay, it’s okay, I know why she’s so angry.

Katie: Explain minion.

Jackson: From that look in her eye I can see that she’s a bit sexually frustrated. I mean, after the pounding that vag has taken I don’t think any man can satisfy her anymore, except for me, which is why I’m sure it upsets her that she just can’t rip my clothes off the second I enter the room. Thanks for holding her back, the censors would be up our ass quicker than a penis up Buehler’s…..

Robin: ENOUGH!

The bag is crumpled up in Robin’s hand and pitched to the floor. It’s done her no good, especially while trapped in a room full with so much ego.

Adams: Back up the hormone train sister, what crawled up your anus? Or more accurately, what was inserted into your anu…..

Brooks: I can’t take anymore of this. Now explain, Adams.

Adams looks confused, unsure of what type of explanation she’s looking for.

Jackson: Erm, okay. Usually it takes half a shot of vodka, some Jonas Brother’s music, and the back seat of a Prius to get Buehler loose…

Buehler: How did you….?

Katelyn awkwardly ends her sentence and then just as awkwardly ganders at the faces in the room.

Katelyn: I mean….I’m gonna kill you!

Adams: For what? Making sure you saved face out there, for protecting you?

Robin: You call hitting her with a chair protection?

Jackson: Yeah, pretty much. Besides, I’m probably the first guy who has ever used protection when pairing up with Buehler.

Buehler: Please, plllleeeasse let me kill him. I have lime, seriously, a whole bag of it.

The thought causes Jackson to scoff, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. He then just as quickly crosses his arms and shakes his head, pouting.

Jackson: Gee, is it so hard to just say thank you? Thank you, Jackson Adams, for making sure the Brat Pack wasn’t pinned. Thank you, Jackson Adams, for helping me abort yet another unplanned pregnancy. Thank you, Jackson Adams, for having the most wonderful breathe on the planet.

Brooks: Alright, we get the point.

Brooks is in desperate need of some extra strength Advil, demonstrating as much by moving her fingers in semi-circles around her temples.

Robin: Jackson, I think we seriously need to have a talk and discuss….

Adams: PERFECT, because I’ve got some HUGE news.

Robin already doesn’t like where this is going.

Jackson: It’s so big I just had to rush back here and tell you.

Brooks: Should I even bother asking?

Adams: Yes you should, because this is MONUMENTAL!

Robin: Get on with it then.

Jackson: Well get this, there I was eating a jelly donut and watching Michelle Blacker bend over to tie her boot, when who should come waltzing on by, Orlando FRIGGIN Cruze.

Now she really, really doesn’t like where this is headed.

Adams: So I jumped in his way and the two of us got to talking. Well, I was talking, technically he was taking a nap, anyway, I convinced him to put a Brat Pack team in the gauntlet at the Overbooked Extravaganza.

While Steward and Buehler perk up, in the spine, not in other parts of the female anatomy, Brooks becomes more alarmed than ever.

Jackson: And that team will be the unstoppable pairing of “The Black Widow” Robin Brooks, and the real deal sex appeal, Jackson Adams.

Robin is suddenly becoming nauseous all over again. She raises her hand to her mouth and then goes bolting towards the bathroom, Steward holding the door open preemptively. Adams just watches on with a grin the size of the equator on his face. That is until he hears the sound of vomit splashing against water and Robin’s loud heaving.

Jackson: Why is it that I always seem to have that effect on women?

COMMERCIAL BREAK

TERMS & CONDITIONS

Simon: Please, please, please, please, please….

Each step Orlando takes down the corridor is a quick one, desperately trying to get away from Cagero and his annoying repetition. Despite being exhausted from his match earlier tonight, the NEW X-Class Champion is still able to keep up with the Icon. Even if Orlando were to hop into a car or in a jet, Simon would find a way to follow and continue hounding him.

Cagero: Please, please, please, I’ll make it worth your while, please, please, please….

Orlando: HOW!?!

Simon is momentarily daunted by both the question and the decibel of the Icon’s voice.

Cruze: How could you possibly make it worth my while?

Simon: Weeeelll, hmmm, I happen to have Too Magnificent at my beckon call. He could always exchange sexual favors for our inclusion into this match. Please, please, please.

Cagero sounds like a parakeet who only knows one word or a radio repeatedly skipping, which are two major pet peeves for the Icon.

Orlando: OKAY!

Finally the repetition has ended after Orlando’s outburst and the swiping of his hands through the air.

Cruze: But there are conditions you have to agree to.

Simon: Anything, anything at all. Unless it involves shaving Robin’s legs.

Orlando: I’m not that cruel. If you didn’t hear me the first time I said it, in order for a champion to participate in the gauntlet, they have to be willing to put their title on the line.

Attention turns to the sparkling X-Class Title positioned over Simon’s shoulder. After working so many weeks to claim a title, Cagero is now left to wonder if it’s worth taking the risk of losing it. Of course once he realizes that it will give him an opportunity at adding even more gold to his legacy, including the World Heavyweight Title, Simon’s decision becomes far easier.

Orlando: So, what’s it going to be then?

Cagero: Alright……I’m fine with that.

Cruze: Then consider yourself and Too Magnificent officially entered into the gauntlet.

Simon: Wicked.

Obviously Simon is elated to have finagled his way into a World Title opportunity and Orlando is elated that the discussion has ended.

Cagero: I appreciate it Lando. You know, the two of us should really catch up on old times.

Orlando: Yeah, maybe.

Simon: How have the kids been?

Orlando is surprised someone is actually taking an interest in his personal life.

Cruze: Well, Becca’s transitioning to the new living arrangements….

Cagero: Hahaha, that’s hilarious. Anyway, I gotta go discuss this with Too Mag. Catch you later.

Simon is off and Cruze couldn’t possibly be any happier. After releasing a sigh of relief he starts down the corridor once more, but only gets a few feet before bumping into yet another roadblock. Psycho and Riggs stand shoulder to shoulder before the Icon, obstructing his path.

Orlando: Now what?

Riggs: If Simon and Too Magnificent are in, then we’re in.

Psycho nods in agreement with his partner.

Orlando: Oh really? Last time I checked neither of you were King for a Day, and neither of you were the President of this company. So what makes you think you call the shots around here?

The Cartel Title belt is slipped from Psycho’s shoulder and hung over his forearm.

Psycho: I’ll put this on the line.

The magnitude of Psycho’s gesture is not wasted on the President.

Cruze: Alright. You want in that badly, you’ve got it. As of now your both entered into the tag team gauntlet.

Neither Riggs nor Psycho so much as smile. They stare at Orlando through cold, distant eyes, showing not an inkling of emotion. Finally Orlando rolls his eyes and purposely walks right between them, showing he has no fear of the lunatics. Once Orlando has walked off Riggs and Psycho turn back towards one another and nod, their plot going according to plan.

ROBIN BROOKS © VS. PORNO LAD

The cameras return just in time to catch the panic stricken Robin in the ring, with Max Craven and Rick-Rohl making their way down the ramp. She paces anxiously, coveting her precious Submission Title, eyes darting from the belt to the faces of all those she’s wronged. Craven and Rick-Rohl pause at the end of the ramp to shake hands with Kingdom and Hurse, the Empire having called them to the ring to fill the void as lumberjacks.

Mark: Riot! returns on the verge of a big time title bout where Robin Brooks will put her gold up for grabs against Porno Lad, and now we see that not only will the Empire serve as lumberjacks, but so shall Craven and Rick-Rohl. Remember it was just last week that we saw Rohl and Craven robbed of the Tag Team Titles by the Robin’s allies.

Moore: I remember that. Mostly because Rick-Rohl’s dancing was so hypnotic.

Comeau: Yes, I bet it was. Robin is probably regretting any involvement she had in the outcome of that match, and the way she SCREWED Max Craven out of the Submission Title. Plus, let’s not forget that she and the Brat Pack have been feuding with Rick-Rohl in SCW for months.

Brooks is glowing, but not from happiness. She is drenched in a bucket of sweat and the match hasn’t even started yet. She looks at each face gathered around the ring, each set of plotting eyes, each crude grin. It looks like she’s swallowed a toad when “Original Prankster” hits the PA system, resulting in a deafening roar of approval from the crowd.

Mark: And here comes the challenger.

Susie: Yippee. Finally a reason to be excited, and to take off these uncomfortable panties.

Slowly Porno Lad steps to the stage and there he pauses. Instead of doing some flamboyant dance, Porno Lad looks strangely focused, eyes glued on the woman in the ring. Porno Lad’s albatross has gone white as a sheet, realizing that there’s nowhere to run, and that there’s nobody at ringside to help her. In fact, all those at ringside are interested in doing the exact polar opposite of lending her assistance.

Mark: Do you see that gleam in Porno Lad’s eyes, and the panic in Robin’s face? It’s finally dawning on her that this match is going to happen. She’s going to defend that belt against the man she screwed at Upping the Ante….

Susie: HEY! I was the only one screwing Porny Porn then. I remember because I was wearing my sexy Chewbacca lingerie.

Comeau: Screwed metaphorically.

Moore: Metaphorically? So what, she used jumper cables?

mark: Just stop ruining this moment Susie….

Susie: I’ll try.

Porno Lad relishes every slow step he takes to the ring, realizing that Robin is trapped with no means of escape. Her bosom heaves with each deep breathe she takes, desperately looking from side to side at all the smiling faces staring back at her. Porno Lad methodically makes his way up the steps and to the stage, building the anticipation in the crowd, and the tension in his opponent.

Mark: Porno Lad is getting into Robin’s head in a big way. If ever there was a time and place for Robin to lose that Submission Title, it would be right here, right now, TONIGHT.

Porno Lad lets his leg dangle over the middle rope for a few moments while making eye contact with the increasingly alarmed Robin. Finally he enters the ring and Brooks bolts straight at him. She throws a right hand only to have it blocked, Porno Lad responding with a shot of his own.

Robin is staggered by the blow, trying desperately to plant her feet while Porno Lad moves in and delivers the dreaded bionic elbow to the top of her head. The blow sends the Black Widow collapsing to the canvas, grabbing at her wounded skull.

Comeau: This match off to a heated start with Porno Lad getting the upper hand. He’s got to be thinking about what happened at Upping the Ante.

Susie: Yes, me in my super sexy Chewbacca costume is hard to forget.

Mark: Enough about the damn Chewbacca costume and it’s sexiness. I’m talking about how Robin had a hand in costing Porno Lad not only the N.H.B Title, but his very first loss.

Moore: When did that happen?

Mark: AT UPPING THE ANTE!

Robin looks as stunned as a deer caught in headlights as she frantically races to her feet. The moment she stands a knife edge chop connects with her sternum. The bosom bruising blow has Brooks reeling towards the ropes, with Porno Lad following closely. He delivers another chop that has her spine pressed to the cables then delivers another strike so heinous it actually sends her flipping up and over the cables to the outside of the ring.

Mark: Those chops caving in Robin’s chest, sending her to the outside, which is an even more dangerous location for Brooks to be in than the ring.

Although in pain Robin is quick to reach her feet before turning to face the inbound AWOL. She squeals then dives back into the ring, the Big Crazy Bastard reaching under the ropes in a feeble attempt to catch her. A look of relief sweeps across Robin’s face as she stands up in the ring, grateful to have avoided the wrath of the behemoth.

Of course such relief is short lived once she backs into the clutches of Porno Lad. The Prankster seizes her by her trunks and her hair, charging her at the ropes and throwing her through to the outside of the ring. Conveniently she lands right at the feet of the man she just avoided, timidly looking up into the eyes of AWOL.

Mark: Porno Lad making sure Robin is subjected to AWOL’s wrath.

A big toothy grin forms on Robin’s face and just before she can state her case, AWOL grabs hold of her throat, hoists her up and drops her sternum first onto the barricade.

Mark: I don’t think AWOL fully grasps the concept of being a lumberjack.

Susie: All he has to do is appear on a package of Brawny Paper Towels right?

Comeau: I was trying to hint in a clever way that AWOL should be putting Robin back in the ring instead of brutalizing her at ringside. You know, for the rest of this match could you just please play with this plastic bag?

Moore: I thought you’d never ask.

Robin feels as if her sternum was crushed by the impact with the steel, a bruise already forming across her clavicle. Craven then swoops in, picking up where AWOL left off by dragging a disheveled Brooks to her feet and re-inserting her into the ring.

Max deduces that the greatest punishment to inflict on Robin now would be of the mental variety. The Original Prankster steps in and prepares to deliver a psychologically crippling blow. He grabs Robin’s leg and actually swings around one.

Although it appears that he’s on the verge of forcing Robin to submit to the figure four, symbolically getting the champ to tap to her own hold, he instead falls to his side and applies an Inverted Indian Death Lock. He twists to his seat, pinning Robin’s legs together by wedging his foot to her knee. Crippling pain, this time physical, emerges from the strained muscles in the Champion’s legs.

She can feel that champion distinction slipping away from her, Brooks terrified by the thought of mediocrity. Despite the pain in her chest, her head and most importantly her legs, Robin begins sliding across her seat, moving desperately towards the ropes.

Comeau: This is the first time that I’ve seen Porno Lad apply an Inverted Death Lock like this. It’s a new trick but the question is, will it fool Robin?

Susie: That’s not Ethan’s trick. He shows it to me every time we go to the movie theater and I reach into the popcorn sitting on his lap…..

Mark: Nuh….nuh….nuh….nuh, I think we’ve all heard enough, too much actually.

Even the verbal jabs of all the rivals gathered around the ring fail to properly put down Robin, because she’s still closing in on the ropes. She slithers like a snake across her back, inching towards the ropes which are now within her grasp.

Porno Lad grits his teeth until sparks could fly from his lips, leaning back and pushing with even more force behind his foot. The pain is almost too much for Robin to bear as she reaches desperately for the ropes. Confusion sets in as she realizes that she misjudged her ring positioning, the bottom rope far further away than she had already calculated.

That’s when she spots the hand wrapped around it, Kingdom pulling the bottom rope as far from her clutches as possible.

Moore: Damn that Kingdom for always teaming with inanimate objects. First it was the Cartel Title belt, now it’s the blasted ring rope. Somebody has to put a stop to this.

Mark: It’s not going to be me, nor you, so why even complain about it. But once again the lumberjacks are having a hard time following their job guidelines.

Robin’s wiggling fingers are just not long enough to reach the rope, Johnny whispering cynical words as he keeps the cable from her clutches. That is until referee Wright threatens to send him to the back if he does not unleash the rope. Only then does Johnny comply, acting as if he were the model employee. He even goes as far as to chastise the nearby Rick-Rohl for putting him up to it.

The act doesn’t convince the referee, who slowly turns back to the action, spotting Robin’s fingers wrapped about the bottom rope. He briefly calls to the time keeper then proceeds with the mandatory five count.

Mark: Robin using her first rope break in this match. That is not good, she’s already down one rope break to Porno Lad’s three, you don’t want to get into a deficit this early in the match.

The hold is finally broken, Robin freed from her grief and misery. Relief quickly transforms into horror as Craven reaches under the ropes and grabs Brooks’ hair. He yanks until she begins to slide under the ropes where he can get her in his clutches. The screaming Black Widow wraps her arms around the top rope, desperately clinging to them while kicking her legs frantically.

Susie: All these guys teaming up on woman, this is just like that time I caught my mom with five guys at once.

Mark: I could see how that would be a traumatizing childhood experience.

Moore: Not really. She told me she was playing basketball against them, and it was the shirts versus the skins. Although, I didn’t know you had to have your pants off too if you were on the skins team.

Max continues to yank just as forcibly as Robin grasps the ropes. The referee comes to her rescue once again by starting a five count that forces Max to untangle his fingers from her hair.

To Robin, Referee Wright looks like Fabio on the cover of a Romance novel, her own personal savior. Salvation is just a pipe dream, because Porno Lad proves there is no hero, and there is no sanctuary. He grabs her legs, pulls Robin back into the center of the ring, steps through and turns her over into the sharpshooter. Brooks pushes herself up onto the points of her elbows, cutting loose with a scream so loud it could crack glass.

Mark: Sharpshooter locked in, Robin could be just seconds from tapping, and I don’t even think she’s gotten in a single move thus far.

Brooks’ press on nails dig into the canvas like they were trying to split a coconut. With every fiber of her being she starts to pull herself towards the ropes, realizing that grabbing them would put her down to just one remaining break, but to escape the pain it would be worth the regret.

She reaches out and throws her arm over the bottom rope to the wails of a venomous audience.

Comeau: That’s two already. Porno Lad has got all the momentum with these lumberjacks throwing Robin completely off of her game.

Moore: She’s not even holding a Gameboy. At least I don’t think she is. You don’t think she stole mine do you?

Mark: Susie, your still holding your Gameboy and playing it right now.

Susie: Oh.

Wright continues to be Robin’s only supporter, only because it’s part of his job qualifications to break up the holds. He seems to be the only one doing their job in, or around the ring currently, with the exception of Porno Lad. The Prankster is already shouting the words that the crowd eats up like chocolate cake on their birthday.

Porno Lad: Get use to looking at these abs naked, cause they’re about to be covered.

He pantomimes a title across his gut then turns back towards a struggling Robin. Although it would be so much easier to just give up and escape this torture, Brooks shows that she at least has some class, unwilling to throw in the towel and throw away her title.

She pulls herself to the middle rope and delivers a surprising stomp to her opponent’s big toe. The strike doubles the challenger over, putting him in just the position Robin needs to grab him around the neck, applying a headlock.

Hubris once again betrays her, because Porno Lad slips right out the back door. He turns his back to Robin and takes her around the neck, dropping down into a reverse neckbreaker. The back of her skull and neck takes incredible whiplash from the blow, but Porno Lad isn’t through yet.

Showing a surprising aptitude for chain wrestling, Porno Lad rolls to his stomach, dragging Robin along by the neck then flips forward. He bridges over Robin’s spine, pulling back on her chin in the process.

Mark: Bridging chin lock. Beautiful hold by Porno Lad, beautifully executed.

Susie: Everything about him is beautiful, even his armpit hair. He let me braid it once.

Comeau: Robin down to her last rope break, does she use it now to prevent further damage or does she hold onto it and try to break this hold on her own?

Brooks reaches for the ropes, and when she learns that they’re nowhere near obtainable, she settles for grabbing at something else. Both sets of finger nails find their way into Porno Lad’s eye sockets, digging into the corneas until he is forced to break the hold, and the referee is forced to intervene.

Mark: She found a unique way out of that hold. A completely underhanded way of course, but what else can you expect from Robin?

Susie: A vagina?

Comeau: Yes, Susie, a vagina too.

The Challenger is the one down on the canvas thrashing about in an attempt to pluck Robin’s nails out of his eyes. Once she finally releases him at the referee’s order, she lifts an elbow and drills it straight into Porno Lad’s orbital socket.

Porno Lad turns to his side, grabbing at his eyes and frantically blinking them, trying to determine whether he’s been blinded. AWOL feels his pain at ringside, still suffering some sight damage from the nails of the Brat Pack, who exploit every trick they can to achieve victory.

In a wise move Robin rolls away from Porno Lad, ending up in one of the turnbuckles which she places most her weight upon. It’s much needed relief for her tired, ailing muscles, and gives her the distance from her opponent that she needs to start recovering.

The near blinded Porno Lad has crawled into a corner, not by choice but luck. He grabs the cables and uses them to ascend to his feet, back entirely exposed to Robin who is quick to capitalize. She slaps both knees and then takes off before finding her foot snagged.

Furious eyes burn a hole into the hand clutching her ankle, tracing it back to the body of her former flame. Hurse reaches under the ropes and holds her leg as possible before the referee can spot his interference. It doesn’t take that long, Robin relieving herself of her situation by stomping her ex right to his knuckles. Hurse turns away from the ring and the fate of his newest associate, Porno Lad.

Neither man is aware that Robin is charging at Porno Lad and throwing herself knees first into his back. It isn’t until her kneecaps connect with the top turnbuckle pad that the magnitude of Hurse’s interference dawns on the Black Widow. Both her knees feel as if they’ve imploded like popcorn kernels in a microwave.

Mark: A sickening collision of knees and turnbuckle. With two holds having already targeted Robin’s legs this cannot leave her in good condition for the duration of this match.

Robin falls to her feet moaning and groaning over the state of her legs, almost forgetting all about her plight, namely the challenger for her title. Porno Lad catches the absent minded Brooks around the head and falls to the canvas with yet another neck breaker.

His spine may hit the canvas but he has nothing to show for his troubles, Robin having grabbed the ropes to prevent the punishment. It’s now Porno Lad who suffers, the champion lunging into the air, falling across the back of her thighs on the adjoining ropes in the turnbuckle and flipping back into a split legged moonsault.

Mark: Dazzling maneuver from Robin, catching Porno Lad COMPLETELY off guard.

Susie: That wasn’t dazzling.

Comeau: What would you call it?

Moore: Ummmm, I’d call it, POOPY! It was a poopy move.

Mark: I think your vocabulary is more limited than Michael Cole’s.

The meeting of bodies leaves Robin in almost as bad of shape as her opponent. Porno Lad and the Champion grasp at their disabled frames, the Challenger trying to convalesce as quickly as possible and get himself back on the ball. Brooks tries to keep said ball in her court as she rises to her feet and goes for the game winning shot.

She hops over Porno Lad, does a headstand off the top rope and then falls onto her opponent while twisting into a leg drop. The crowd, despite their animosity towards Brooks, scream their heads off and their hearts out.

Comeau: And Robin follows up that split legged moonsault with a very impressive leg drop out of a headstand off the top rope. She has so much aerial capabilities, but it’s going to be her technical skills she counts on to win this one.

Moore: Too bad she can’t depend on what really counts. Her hair and her good looks.

Porno Lad’s throat must be closing in on him but it doesn’t stop his wheezing body from trying to stand. He rolls across the ring and spots Craven standing on the apron, clapping his hands together. The crowd needs no prompting to get them behind the Challenger, everyone trying to rally in support behind their savior.

Max goes a bit too overboard though when he reaches over the ropes, grabs Porno Lad’s arm and actually helps him ascend to his feet. The referee engulfs his face with his palm, having no idea what it’ll take to keep these lumberjacks from interfering.

Before he can so much as repeat the same generic threat he’s used against everyone, Robin springs into the air behind Porno Lad, dropkicking his upper back. The blow sends him chest first into Max, knocking Craven off of the apron. Rick-Rohl is standing right there to catch Max across his chest though, keeping him from sustaining any damage.

Porno Lad has nobody there to catch him though as he spirals backwards into the clutches of an eager predator. Robin grabs his inner thigh and rolls him up into a school boy. Given the fact that pins are not legal in Submission Title matches, it’s easy to deduce that Robin is getting him into position for a hold.

Such suspicions ring true as she stands, swings around one leg and goes for the figure four. Before the well calculated maneuver can be applied, Porno Lad grabs the belt of her tights and pulls her back just enough to hook her arms.

With both arms hooked a terrified Black Widow is dragged down into almost a bridging double chickenwing pin. Porno Lad then pushes off from the canvas with his feet, flipping backwards and pulling Robin over onto her stomach. She’s perfectly strewn across the canvas on her front, Porno Lad kneeling over her with both arms still trapped.

He immediately tries to flip forward and bridge back into the Cattle Mutilation but the Black Widow thinks quickly. She wedges a knee to the canvas and pushes herself up, finding herself still trapped in the double chickewing, but at least she’s avoided the more lethal bridging version of it.

Mark: Brooks’ in ring knowledge allowing her to avoid the attempt at the Cattle Mutilation, a maneuver that definitely would have cost Robin in a variety of ways.

Once on a knee it doesn’t take her long to reach her feet then put all her power behind charging backwards. Porno Lad maintains his grasp on the arms even as he’s shoved spine first into a turnbuckle. The powerful grasp on her arms isn’t broken until Robin squirms down his stomach and connects with a modified arm drag, flipping Porno Lad over her body and sending him rolling across the ring.

He reaches his feet and turns towards Robin now seated in the corner. It doesn’t take long for him to form a strategy, rushing at his prone opponent, leaping into the air so that his feet land on the ropes at both sides of her head then springing off of them.

He grabs the top rope as his body kicks up into the air above him, about to use himself as a reverse catapult to launch his boots down into Robin’s face. Just as he begins to swing his legs down out of the head stand, Robin lunges to her feet, turns, catches him around the neck and pulls him down into a stunner.

Mark: WHOA!!

Susie: PIZZA SAUCE!

Porno Lad’s neck is nearly broken by the whiplash, his head snapping back after the stunning, no pun intended, stunner.

Comeau: I’ve never seen a stunner pulled off from that position before. That was incredible.

Moore: I hope it didn’t kill Porny Porn. Don’t get me wrong, I’d still have sex with him, but the smell would be awful.

The Challenger’s eyes have rolled to the back of his head and rightfully so after that jarring, brain scrambling move just pulled off by his adversary. Robin remains seated on the canvas, wishing she had some Bengay to rub at her shoulder. Despite the pain she crawls towards Porno Lad, falls to her seat beside him and begins to rub her wrist tape right into his eyes.

She grates her wrist back and forth across his pupils, inflicting so much vision impairing damage. He once again swats at her hands to alleviate the pressure while Kingdom reaches under the ropes, grabs Porno Lad’s leg and throws it over the cables.

This now legally forces the referee to take a stand, this time against Robin. Not only are her actions judged illegally by most of the officiating staff, but Porno Lad has used his first rope break, meaning despite the legality of her tactics she must cease them immediately.

Mark: Johnny helping Porno Lad out and at the same time costing him. Everyone knew that after the Spider Bite, Porno Lad wasn’t going to reach those ropes on his own though.

Hurse shouts from ringside at the official for being too slow in coming to Porno Lad’s aid. Wright just blows him off and watches as Robin takes her still battered opponent and slowly leads him to his feet. Porno Lad is up long enough for Brooks to charge him across the ring by the back of the head and drive him face first into the top turnbuckle pad.

He bounces off, flies back and slams against the canvas with enough force to send him flipping over onto his stomach.

Mark: Robin wisely targeting the head after that career shortening stunner, but now what is she doing?

Moore: Knitting me mittens for my kitten? Wait, I don’t even own a cat.

The source of Mark’s confusion is Robin’s inexplicable tactics. Instead of going for a hold, Robin allows herself to be thrown completely off her strategy by influences at ringside. She slips through the ropes to the apron and kicks at any hands that near her before starting up a turnbuckle.

Her eyes keep diverting towards AWOL and Kingdom, who are just a little too close for comfort. These constant glimpses towards her opponents leaves Robin entirely unaware of Porno Lad’s almost Wolverine like recuperative capabilities.

He wedges fists to the canvas and with weary muscles rises to his feet. His stumbles and staggers do not impede him from charging at the distracted Robin. Before she can even turn her focus back to the ring, Porno Lad steps up the ropes and delivers a big twisting kick right to her temple.

The shot echoes like a gunshot through the Manhattan Center and leaves Robin so discombobulated that she almost tumbles out of the turnbuckle. Instead she falls to her seat, legs dangling above the ring and body teetering back and forth on the verge of going over.

Mark: I can’t even begin to understand how Porno Lad pulled that one off.

Susie: Again, allow me to reiterate, that it has nothing to do with the Flintstone Chewable vitamins I feed him backstage.

No matter what Porno Lad may have ingested backstage it’s not helping now. He rests on the canvas across his knees, thoroughly exhausted and still shaken by that deadly stunner. Hurse, Craven and Rick-Rohl shout encouraging words to him, feeding Porno Lad’s ego and giving him just the boost he needs to stand up.

Although he’s on wobbly legs Porno Lad charges at the seated Brooks and lunges into the air, catching tremendous height as he tries to wrap his legs around her neck. Once again Robin uses the ropes as her greater ally, she wraps her hands around the cables just as Porno Lad dropped back for the hurricarana.

As a result Porno Lad crashes into the canvas spine first with Robin still seated on the turnbuckle above him. She only maintains her elevated advantage for a moment before hopping from the turnbuckle, grabbing Porno Lad’s legs and swinging around them into the figure four leg lock.

Mark: Oh no, OH NO, this is exactly the hold that Porno Lad needed to avoid! The very hold that won Robin the Submission Championship, and has put down so many challengers over the past few weeks.

Moore: Keep fighting Porny Porn, if you win, you’ll get to see me in my Chewbacca costume again.

Comeau: ENOUGH with this Chewbacca nonsense! You’ve emphasized it enough already.

The hold is locked on and ready to earn Robin the victory. She falls to her back, exerting as much pressure as her limber body will allow on the mangled legs of the former N.H.B Champion. His desperate thrashing is futile, bringing him no closer to the ropes.

They are far outside of his grubby fingers, the pain in his legs almost as unbearable as a Lord X promo. With squinting eyes, contorted facial muscles and body wracked with the type of pain only someone listening to Gilbert Godfried sing would experience, Porno Lad begins inching towards the ropes.

He digs his palms into the canvas, grunting and growling as he wills himself towards the allusive cables. The lumberjacks at ringside are still willing him on, Rick-Rohl and Hurse slapping the apron and building suspense.

Mark: He’s got to make it to those ropes or Robin has the win in the bag.

Susie: Yeah, right alongside her vibrator. I have one of those two.

Mark: Susie, that’s a beeper.

Moore: Whatever works.

The excitement builds as Porno Lad’s fingers just begin to knick the bottom rope. Robin’s in ring knowledge alerts her to this terror, forcing her to roll back towards the center of the ring. Porno Lad is pulled along, finding himself spread across his back in the center of the squared circle, miles from any of the ropes.

Mark: I have to take my hat off to her, Robin smartly rolling back to the center of the ring to maintain the pressure, and at this point, it’s become academic.

Moore: NOOOO. I don’t want Porny Porn to become any smarter. He already beats me in Hungry, Hungry Hippos enough.

The object of Susie’s infatuation finds himself yet again in a perilous predicament. Either he risks long term damage to his knees, or he gives up and saves himself years of physical therapy. Instead he opts to go with the third option, sacrificing his body for the title.

He pulls himself desperately towards the ropes yet again, sliding across his kiester as he nears them. Robin holds on like the jaws of a pitbull clamped to a piece of meat. She bobs side to side and back to back like a bowie bounces on the waves of an ocean.

Both she and Porno Lad are roaring but for completely different reasons. With the crowd screaming and the lumberjacks motivating, Porno Lad reaches the bottom rope.

Mark: The ropes have been reached, Porno Lad is still hanging in there, but now he’s in the same boat as Brooks, both of them are down two rope breaks.

Moore: I hope they aren’t on the same boat for so long, I think Robin’s enormous thighs would capsize it.

Robin vehemently opposes the referee’s order when told that she must break the figure four. She opts to live in a delusional fantasy, in which the ropes serve no function other than an ascetic one, and by no means does she have to release her weary victim.

It takes AWOL climbing up to the apron and threatening to enter the ring for Robin to break her hold. She scrambles across her rear, desperate avoid the murderous master of mayhem that is the Big Crazy Bastard. Clearly the Black Widow doesn’t want to learn the hard way why AWOL has such a moniker.

Comeau: Robin wisely breaking that hold and keeping AWOL out of the ring. She doesn’t want a second helping of what she got from him last week.

Susie: Why not, it looks like her preggers tummy could hold it. See, I don’t like Robin now, she’s a stinky breathe.

Mark: Again, I’m not surprised by your constantly shifting alliances. Next week you’ll probably be a member of the Brat Pack.

Moore: REALLY!?! SWEET!

Comeau: Thanks for just proving my point.

AWOL is forced back to the outside of the ring by a power crazy official, who is growing increasingly aware that this match is no more than a farce. Nevertheless, he refuses to allow it to slip completely into madness, trying to maintain some semblance of rules and order.

What he doesn’t know is that Robin is once again in opposition of his goal. Behind the referee’s back Robin has reached down into her boot and is sliding out a pear of brass knuckles, knuckles that will no doubt shortly be introduced to the Challenger’s temples.

Mark: Turn around ref, come on, look behind you already!

Moore: Yes, everyone should enjoy Robin’s shinny knuckles. I guess their some type of wonderful birth defect.

Comeau: So were you, Susie, so were you.

The referee is still dealing with AWOL and his blatantly lawless behavior while Robin winds up and prepares to deliver the final, all important shot. She rushes at Porno Lad just as he reaches his feet, legs still feeling like jello from the duration of that figure four.

Even though his legs may be in crippling agony, Porno Lad still has the wherewithal to bend forward, catch the inbound Brooks and launch her over the ropes. Robin catches tremendous height before twisting and coming down with the grace of an angel onto the apron.

Her intentions are anything but heavenly as she cocks back her fist and prepares to deliver a punch to the back of the challenger’s head. The still woozy Porno Lad is completely unaware and unprepared for the disaster about to befall him, a disaster that would all but cripple any possibilities of emerging as champion tonight.

Just before the fist could leave an indelible mark on the back of his skull Robin’s brassed fist is caught in the clutches of Craven. Max has lunged to the apron and is now struggling with Brooks before finally slipping the brass knuckles off of her fist.

Mark: Craven coming to the rescue of Porno Lad, removing that weapon before it could inflict serious damage on the Prankster.

Moore: Thank God for Max, and thank God for his wonderful films. I loved that one where Velma was captured and they found out it was the creepy old guy from the abandoned amusement park…..

Mark: That’s Scooby Doo, Susie.

After removing the weapon before it could be put into play Max hops to the outside mats, purposely teasing Brooks with the brass knucks. Before Robin can so much as spit at the interloper, she’s caught from behind, head engulfed in the clutches of Kingdom.

Johnny charges her across the apron and slams her head first off of the exposed turnbuckle post. A loud ding can be heard as Robin’s bell was rung.

Mark: And now Johnny getting involved in the most physical way possible.

Moore: He inserted his penis into her…..?

Comeau: Not that physical.

The blow has shut down nearly every one of Robin’s senses, her eyes barely open, her ears ringing, her nose plugged with blood, and her taste buds rejecting the flavor of steel. It’s a true testament to her will power that she’s upright. Well, her legs bear her weight long enough for Porno Lad to slip in behind her, book arms and then drag her over the ropes into the dragon suplex.

Porno Lad bridges over completely backwards to maintain the hold, to keep the Black Widow down for the three count. It doesn’t dawn on him that submissions are the only means of victory before the referee breaks away from AWOL’s hypnotic words, and Robin instinctively kicks out.

Although she thought her move was out of self preservation, it’s actually only exposed her to the bridging Cattle Mutilation. Porno Lad arches his back like a crab and hooks both of Robin’s arms in a double chickewing. The Hands Across America style hold has the fans putting their hands together in joy.

Mark: The hold applied, Porno Lad’s got her in that hold Hurse taught him. Finally someone is going to defeat the most reviled woman on the IWC roster for her title and it’s going to be Porno Lad.

Susie: Excellent, more gold to play with.

Brooks squirms like a worm on the end of a hook, trying to pry her arms free or reach for the ropes with her feet at the very least. None of her tactics prove effective, she’s kept in the hold and brought even closer to submission than ever before. The referee is right there, checking on her condition, imploring her to spare the longevity of her career by submitting.

Porno Lad can already feel his body weighed down with gold, or maybe it’s all the pain in his muscles. Either way he cannot help envisioning himself standing on tall, title in hand, basking in the adulation of his adoring audience, and posing for what shall be time honored photos, cherished keepsakes hung with pride over a mantle.

His wild imagination prompts him to yank on Robin’s arms with as much gusto as humanly possible. Robin becomes more and more tempted by the request of the official, the pain almost so unbearable that it’s blinding.

Comeau: Does she have enough left in the tank to reach the ropes? Is there anyway possible that she can retain her championship, or is this her final battle? Is this the night we see Brooks lose that title?

Brooks’ lips struggle to keep words from forming the very words that would end her illustrious reign. Porno Lad almost salivates at the thought of hearing them, they would be a far greater satisfaction to him than watching any stripper on a pole, or any horrible actress moaning apathetically on screen.

AWOL, Kingdom, Hurse, Rick-Rohl and Craven all lean against the apron, anticipating that magical phrase that will show them all their hard work and planning paid off. The crowd suddenly sounds like they’re in need of some Zoloft, exploding with emotion as the Brat Pack and their allies blindside the lumberjacks.

Mark: It’s the Brat Pack and their circle of friends! I knew that even the Empire’s threats wouldn’t keep them backstage. They can’t stand not having the spotlight, and there’s no better way to hold onto the spotlight than to keep the title belts.

Susie: There’s so much estrogen now at ringside it’s making my nipples swell.

Comeau: All that scantily clad flesh is having the same reaction on another part of my body.

Robin continues to hold on even though the Brat Pack’s forces cannot break through their wall of rivals. Kingdom was the first singled out, attacked by the massive BFG and Miho. Their strikes have knocked him into the apron, but he quickly spins around like a top and begins throwing blows. Paris and Katie are right on top of Craven and Rick-Rohl, Rick-Rohl a man they are no stranger to in the SCW.

Jackson’s attack targets the most likely victim, Hurse. His former friend falls prey to a series of rights and kicks. In the meanwhile Katie exacts revenge on Rick-Rohl for all the problems he’s caused for her in SCW. That’s why she cuts loose with a screech so loud it could shatter every window in the Manhattan Center. It has a shattering effect on Rohl’s brain, driving him to cover his ears and leave himself exposed to a boot to the ribs.

The N.H.B title cracking AWOL in the back of the head, brings him to a knee, a perfect vantage point for Buehler to rifle off some right hands to his skull.

Mark: And just like that we’re seeing a repeat of that insane brawl last week. Batten down the hatches ladies and gentlemen and lock your doors because there’s no telling where this riot will go.

Susie: Hopefully to Disney Land. I love that place almost as much as I love my beeper.

Although startled initially the Empire is quick to mount a defense. They begin to answer back, and let their right hands do all the talking. Craven and Rick-Rohl have the same good fortune, both men ducking simultaneous shots from their victimizers. Paris’ knuckles miss Craven’s head, just like Steward’s fail to connect with Rick-Rohl’s skull, no matter how huge the target may have been.

They spin back around just in time for their prey to turn into the predators. Max charges at Rick-Rohl, who catches him against both palms, hoists him into the air then throws him like he were a stone launched from a catapult into Steward and Dannon. The ladies crash to the mats with Max rolling off of them and the crowd living it up.

Kingdom not only startles BFG and Miho with right hands but also goes to work on Buehler. The Hollywood Whore is spun into a lip busting right hand, a blow that sends her twisting towards AWOL who connects with a shot of his own. Katelyn becomes like a ball bounced between tennis rackets, turning from one fist to the other.

Mark: I don’t know if this is a good thing, considering that this brawl is only going to get worse, but the Empire, Craven and Rick-Rohl are starting to wage a comeback.

Susie: With all these people out here wrestling, I feel I should be on the sideline in my Cheerleader costume.

Comeau: You were a cheerleader?

Moore: No, but my uncle still made me wear the costume.

Mark: How…….repulsive.

No matter how big the brawl may be at ringside, it doesn’t distract from the monumental event in the ring. After putting up with the Cattle Mutilation as long as her body could possibly endure, Brooks begins to utter the two most traumatizing words of her life. Porno Lad shuts his eyes and opens his ears, the words he is about to hear are truly bittersweet.

Unfortunately he never hears them, because the lights in the building power down, leaving the events in the ring, and the chaos at ringside in darkness.

Mark: I’m going to take a wild shot in the dark here and say that no good can possibly come of this.

Susie: How can you possibly know that? Maybe when the lights come back on there will be dancing bears in the ring.

Comeau: I doubt we’ll be that lucky.

As the fans begin to speculate about what is happening the house lights rise and provide an explanation they hadn’t been expecting. Laying with a face caked in blood is their precious Porno Lad, and just off to the side of his head is a steel pipe crusted in crimson.

Mark: NO! Now Porno Lad has been attacked….he was assaulted when the lights went out…

Susie: OH MY. That’s usually my job when we dim the lights at his place. Who could have done such a horrible thing? Chucky? I bet it was Chucky.

Comeau: Just like Johnny Kingdom, just like Simon Cagero, Porno Lad has been busted wide open with that pipe and to make matters worse….well, just look at Robin’s position.

Not only was the mystery attacker sadistic enough to bash Porno Lad’s brains in, but he kindly put Robin back into the driver’s seat with a figure four locked on her challenger. Robin is barely conscious, her eyes fluttering only to open as wide as saucers once she realizes that she’s got Porno Lad TRAPPED.

Mark: Whoever this is, has just helped the Brat Pack out yet again. Won’t these attacks just stop already?

The referee is currently busying himself trying to break up the unyielding brawl at ringside, not seeing the pipe laying beside Porno Lad’s head. Brooks is quick to grab the illegal item and pitch it to the outside of the ring before going right back to the hold. She screams bloody murder until the referee finally turns around and spots the crimson smeared face of Porno Lad and his unconscious condition.

There is apparently no need to even check to see if he still has any type of cognitive function, the referee calling for the bell to end this madness and to get clear of the ring. As soon as the bell chimes the official dashes through the ropes, self preservation being kept at the forefront of his mind.

Mark: This is atrocious! Yet again Robin Brooks retains her Submission Title through the most underhanded tactics I’ve ever seen. Thanks to some maniac wielding a steel pipe, Porno Lad has LOST his opportunity at becoming Submission Champion. Dammit, we need to find out who is responsible for this already!

Moore: Rats. This means I can’t have anymore tea parties with Porny Porn’s titles on the guest list.

Robin cherishes this victory like it were a Superbowl win. She stands as triumphant as an MVP but then almost collapses down to the canvas like a decrepit drunk. Somehow she catches herself while her eyes desperately search for her precious Submission Title belt. The only thing she sees however, isn’t gold, it’s the bedlam beside the ring. But said bedlam isn’t the only thing she gets an eyeful of.

She stares at the very same thing that has stopped Kingdom, Hurse and AWOL cold in mid swing.

Mark: HUH?

Mark hadn’t noticed until now either, but once he spots the figure standing on the stage, he elicits much the same confusion as everyone else in the building. The Xavier mask that clings to this individual’s face seems to be the primary source of such bewilderment. Nobody fully grasping what they see until they spot the blood drenching the black gloves that bind to the individual’s hands.

Comeau: It’s him! It’s the man who took out Porno Lad, the man who took out Simon Cagero, the man who took out Johnny Kingdom. And he’s wearing Kingdom’s old mask.

The black fibers of the man’s shirt are stained red with blood, the very crimson that pours from the gash in a still unconscious Porno Lad’s scalp. The eyes watching from behind the slits in the mask are soulless, without remorse, without compassion. Neither member of the Empire is troubled by their emotions either, concrete on what must be done.

Kingdom glances at AWOL, Rick-Rohl and Craven who are somehow holding the Brat Pack at bay.

AWOL: Get that son of a bitch!

Obviously AWOL thinks he has things well in hand, keeping the Brat Pack busy as Kingdom and Hurse rush up the ramp after the masked individual in question. Smartly the assailant flees, rushing through the curtains and hiding somewhere backstage. No hiding place will be good enough to protect him from the Empire though, Johnny nearly tearing the curtains off the rack as he and Hurse pursue the masked figure.

Comeau: Hurse and Kingdom going after that cold son of a bitch. I hope they catch up with him, I really, really do. It’s about time this guy faces the music.

Susie: And he should play Musical Chairs while doing it too.

Kingdom and Hurse learn that they should have been more concerned with the Brat Pack, because Robin has now caught AWOL from behind. While Rick-Rohl and Max were brawling with BFG and Miyazaki over the barricade and into the screaming crowd, Brooks snuck out of the ring, got behind AWOL and delivered a swift punt right to his lower extremities.

He boot is wide enough to squish both testicles, doubling him over. No matter how big you are, and how tough you may be, an unprotected crotch could bring down even the mightiest of foes. AWOL crouches as he grabs at his testicles, but they become only one source of pain as the Brat Pack overwhelms him.

Buehler and Katie are the first to begin decking him with right hands, but Paris and Autumn promptly kick in, literally. Their boots nail almost every inch of AWOL’s abdomen and legs.

Mark: With Kingdom and Hurse after that masked attacker, and Rick-Rohl and Max fighting it out with Miyazaki and BFG in the crowd, it was only a matter of time before AWOL fell victim to these overwhelming numbers.

AWOL is rolled into the ring, where he can be entirely isolated. His solitude is short lived, Buehler, Brooks, Steward, Dannon and Adams all joining him on the inside where they all simultaneously put the boots to him.

Mark: AWOL may not accept help, but he desperately needs it right now.

The AWOL chant does nothing to bring him back from this deficit. The crowd grows even more alarmed when Brooks calls for everyone to back off of AWOL then proceeds towards a turnbuckle. Her sweaty, aching frame is still surging with adrenaline, driving her to slip through the ropes and begin her slow ascent to the top. Obviously she wants to finish AWOL off with the shooting star, but her plans are derailed once Riggs and Psycho come barreling down the ramp, Singapore canes in hand.

Mark: What the hell? Psycho and Riggs on the scene! What brings them out here?

Susie: Is it free beer night?

The Brat Pack barely has time to react as the terrifying duo slides into the ring and begin swinging. Thankfully for Steward’s lovely head she avoids the flailing cane, diving out of the ring where she is joined by Paris, then Adams. Buehler screams in horror at the sight of Psycho coming near her. She too follows her sisters and Jackson to the outside, leaving Robin alone with the duo.

She watches from the turnbuckle, staring over the blood soaked Porno Lad and the recuperating AWOL. Her eyes connect with the emotionless pupils of the sociopaths gathered before her and realizes what must be done. Her point can be saved for another day, she drops to the mats and snatches up her title before gathering alongside the rest of the Brat Pack.

Robin: You two have no idea what you’ve gotten yourselves into. This isn’t over.

Psycho: Good.

The chilling words do not phase Brooks or her associates, everyone of them still lobbing threats at Riggs and Psycho. They keep on slandering the two even when the sadists turn their attention to AWOL. The Big Crazy Bastard looks up from his knees into the faces of Psycho and Riggs standing over him, weapons in hand. He closes his eyes and waits, naturally assuming they’re here to finish him off. Instead Psycho chuckles and begins backing towards the ropes, Riggs doing the same.

As the pair slips through the apron Riggs offers a cryptic parting comment.

Riggs: Just remember who had your back tonight.

With that both men drop to the mats, AWOL watching keenly as they start up the ramp.

Mark: Psycho and Riggs just saved AWOL from a five on one beating this evening. But what are their true intentions? What do they want with the Big Crazy Bastard?

Susie: A third person to play Battleship with them.

Comeau: Battleship is only a two perso….nevermind. Let’s just get out of here before we’re dragged into all this madness. Fans, this is Mark Comeau and Susie Moore signing off from what was another out of control edition of Ri…..no, apparently I spoke too soon, we understand that something is going down backstage.

Moore: Hopefully it’s a Twister competition.

The final images from the ring are that of AWOL kneeling in quiet contemplation and Porno Lad pumping galloons of blood onto the very canvas where he was just screwed.

THE SLIP

Johnny’s face immediately comes into view even as he cuts loose with a string of obscenities too indecent to air on national television. Vulgarity matters not to the Team Leader, who is at his boiling point in the gorilla position backstage. He is throwing a tirade over the image spread across the concrete floor below him. Hurse tries to calm him down, but finds himself just as outraged by the gloves, mask and shirt occupying the ground. All of which are stained with Porno Lad’s blood.

Hurse: I promise we’ll catch this son of a bitch.

Johnny: That isn’t good enough.

Johnny has never been one who is easily satisfied, but tonight his unyielding lack of satisfaction seems more irrational, and with good cause. The very individual who Kingdom has waited so, soooo long to get his hands on, has evaded capture yet again. They slipped out of their costume with plenty of time to either hit the road or perhaps even make their way to the ring to cast off suspicion.

Kingdom: I’m going to catch him. And when I do, things will finally start to get interesting.

The Xavier mask is swiped from the floor, Johnny staring down at it and everything it represents.

SUICIDE

The show cuts from the madness backstage to the chaos in the ring where now the only people left are the Brat Pack and Porno Lad. The former N.H.B Champion is still strewn across the canvas, suffering the extent of his injuries, in particular a very nasty open head wound. Robin decides that just walking away isn’t good enough, she has to linger at ringside and enjoy her handiwork.

Even the smallest since of satisfaction is taken away when Jackson gives her a celebratory slap on the rump.

Mark: Kingdom was close to finally capturing the individual who has now taken out three combatants on a show that just won’t seem to end.

Moore: Good thing I brought my sleeping bag and my nightlight.

Comeau: We may be here all night at this point. Just as long as it takes the Brat Pack to leave the ringside area, which may be never. Brooks is still soaking in everything that just happened, what she pulled off here ton….

The sentence trails off at the first glimpse of IWC President, Orlando Cruze, not only storming towards the ring but audaciously snatching the Submission Title right out of Robin’s hands in the process.

Mark: Oh-ho-ho, Orlando coming out here and TAKING that Submission Title away from Robin. This is the same thing that happened several weeks ago when she thought she had won the World Heavyweight Title under these exact circumstances.

Moore: I do remember that, because the lights were out and when they came back on I was missing my underwear.

Comeau: Susie, you’d have to wear underwear in order to be missing them.

Moore: Oh yeeeeeah.

Mark: Is Orlando once again going to overturn the referee’s decision?

The Icon slips through the ropes into the ring with the belt still in hand. The title is enough to lure Robin back in as well but she tells her comrades to remain outside so as not to alarm the President or give him anymore reason to be angry. Jackson just doesn’t grasp her reasoning, nor does he want to. He climbs to the apron and props his chin on his fist, listening intently to every word exchanged between Orlando and Robin.

Robin: Would you give me back my title?

Orlando: Not until we get the truth, Robin, not until you tell me who’s responsible for this.

Brooks doesn’t know how to react, shaking her head and playing dumb.

Cruze: This is the third time, THE THIRD TIME, that this guy has interfered in a Brat Pack match, and the second time, that it’s been one of YOUR matches. Tell me who he is or face the consequences.

Even as Orlando gets up in her grill Brooks remains uncooperative. It honestly seems that she doesn’t know the identity of Kingdom’s stalker.

Brooks: I told you already, I don’t…..

Orlando: Yeah, you don’t know, you don’t know…..PLEASE…..I wasn’t born yesterday, Robin. If your not going to tell me what I want to know I guess you give me no other option. I’m not going to tolerate this bullshit any longer. Until we all get some answers, I’m withholding your Submission Championship, no, NO, that would be too light a punishment….

Robin begins hyperventilating all over again, and is in desperate need of a bucket to vomit into.

Cruze: Until you tell me who is behind these attacks, I’m going to do something that’s never been done with any title in IWC history, for the first time ever, there will be a DUEL Submission Champion. You’ll hold the gold, but so will Porno Lad!

Mark: WHOA!! Now that’s an explosive bombshell if I ever heard one. This is unreal.

Susie: So what are they going to do? Deform the title by splitting it in two? I’ve got to have something to play with, but at the same time it would be like the belt had an identical twin, like the Olsen twins, and that’s just creepy.

Mark: Orlando really throwing around his power but for a good cause. He wants answers, hell, we ALL want answers, and I think Robin is just the person to get them for us.

Brooks’ whole body is trembling like a leaf caught in a strong wind. Everything that has happened tonight is hitting her all at once, Jackson’s manipulation, that chair shot at the end of the six person tag, the Empire lumberjacks, and now the announcement that she’ll have to share her Submission Title with Porno Lad. It’s all too much for her mind to handle, especially when she hears a slight chuckle emanate from Adams behind her back.

Before she even realizes what’s doing her boot connects with a shocked Orlando’s ribs and she delivers the stunner on the President of the IWC.

Mark: OH MY GOD!

The crowd watches through eyes that are about to explode out of her sockets like they were mounted on springs. Their jaws drop to the floor, as does Jackson’s, as does Katie’s, as does Katelyn’s, as does Paris’, as does ROBIN’S. Nobody, not the fans, not the President, not Adams, not the Brat Pack, not even Robin Brooks can come to grips with what just happened.

Mark: I’m….I’m….I’m absolutely stunned. Robin just gave Cruze the Spider Bite. What was going through her head? Does she have any idea what she’s done? What she’s gotten herself into? This is grounds for termination.

Moore: No more Robin in the IWC? Then I’ll have no excuse for using my Thundercats references.

The Black Widow immediately rises to her feet and spins around, confirming what she’s done and then reeling from it. She’s as pale as the ghost of Michael Jackson, her lips trembling as the magnitude of her actions begin to sink in upon her. There on the canvas before her lays the President of the IWC, knocked out by her own two hands.

Comeau: Robin may have just thrown her career away.

Instinctively, out of fear and shock, Brooks reaches down, grabs her Submission Title and hits the road. She leaps through the ropes and runs screaming up the ramp to the backstage area like a mad woman. The rest of the Brat Pack exchange awkward glances then rush after her, although they have no idea what they’ll do if they should even catch up to the crazed Black Widow.

Mark: Robin running off with her title. Once Orlando recovers he may strip her of that, and her career….NOT AGAIN!

The President’s night goes from bad to worse. Although he should have stayed home, or went snorkeling with the kids again, he struggles to his feet in the IWC ring then turns just in time to nearly be split in half by the spear.

Comeau: CHRISTIAN!?! What the hell are you doing?

Once again the crowd watches on so amazed their brains almost explode. They find themselves frozen in disbelief, wondering why, what excuse, what motivation, what prompted Christian to just commit career suicide. Despite the repercussions, Christian continues to kneel beside a laid out Cruze, who is gripping at his possibly fractured ribs. He rolls around on the canvas beside a kneeling Savior, who swooped in and took advantage of the damage that Robin had inflicted.

The crazed, homicidal expression on Savior’s face is almost hidden by the bangs of his hair that he drags down in front of his face before almost ripping them off.

Mark: First Robin hits Orlando with the Spider Bite, then Savior comes out and delivers the Blaze of Glory. Savior must be absolutely suicidal.

Moore: I know I was when they cancelled VR Troopers. It had a talking dog, a talking DOG!

Not only did Savior have the audacity to lay him out with the spear but now he’s actually crawling up beside the President, staring down into his face which a mask of pain.

Christian: How does it feel to have become everything that you hate Orlando? To be corrupted? You thought you were immune to corruption did you? I’ll prove you wrong. Come to Riot! next week, strip me of the Tag Team Titles, suspend me, Cruze, fire Robin, and fire ME!

FADE TO BLACK