STATE OF THE IWC ADDRESS

Suits, tailor made and form fitting, adorn the bodies of a group that has quickly become the most reviled in IWC history. Although they’ve only been in existence for a matter of weeks their smug self sureness and casual destruction of the roster has raised their prestige to infamous levels.

Porno Lad: Hello IWC fans and people too lazy to look for their remote controls, welcome to this very important Five Star Society press conference.

Standing behind the podium, crouched towards the built in microphone is the spokesman Porno Lad. Lurking to his left is Christian Savior, in a pin striped tux with Cartel Title over shoulder. Looming to his right is Robin Brooks, also fashionably dressed for the evening, and Katelyn Parkwood who for once is adorned in more modest apparel.

Porno Lad: We’ve called this conference here tonight to address some rumors that seem to be floating around. If there’s one thing that the Five Star Society hates it’s unsubstantiated rumors.

Christian Savior: Like the rumor that Jamie Lee Curtis was born a hermaphrodite.

Porno Lad quickly swallows the microphone with his palm and glares at the Rising Phoenix.

Porno Lad: Don’t tell me that, you have no idea how many times I’ve whacked my pud to Trading Places.

From the corner of his eye Porno Lad sees several cameras flashing, realizing he can still be heard.

Porno Lad: Anyway, the Five Star Society is here tonight for clarification purposes, to turn rumor into fact.

Robin Brooks: And here’s hoping it doesn’t take long, I’ve got a half eaten bologna and peanut butter pizza waiting in my dressing room.

Porno Lad: As disgusting as that is, what I find far more repulsive is this rumor that the Empire is going to show up here on Riot!

He shakes his head and makes a gentle jerking off motion with his hand.

Porno Lad: Don’t think so. Not after what we did to Hurse last week. We took him out easier than it takes to get Katelyn’s panties off.

Katelyn: HEEEEY.

Porno Lad: And we’ll do the same to the rest of the Empire should they show up here tonight. It’s really not that difficult to injure them, judging by the fact that their bones are like made of dust.

Robin: We’ll go through them easier than Brendan Fraiser goes through a mummy.

Porno Lad: But unlike Brendan Fraiser we’re not total tools, plus we actually have talent. And it’s our unmistakable talent that will be on display here this evening. Not only will you people see me CRUSH that young upstart Fox Arcane, but should the Empire actually come to the building, you’ll watch as we take out ANOTHER of their members. Oh, and by take out I don’t mean bringing them to Denny’s for a Grand Slam Breakfast, spiking their tea with a little GHB and kicking them out of bed in the morning. No, I mean totally and utterly annihilating them.

Christian: We’re going to bludgeon and humiliate the Empire. If they come here tonight we PROMISE that we’ll confront them and END them.

Porno Lad: Should they actually come to the building that is, which they WON’T, knowing that we’re waiting for them. But don’t worry, their “no show” will be for the best, considering that it will guarantee our hand picked World Champion and our glorious Cartel Title holder forfeit victories. I think a forfeit win for either Christian or Simon would draw bigger ratings than if Kingdom and AWOL had actually shown up to compete.

Savior: I’m pretty sure reruns of Boy Meets World draws bigger ratings than an AWOL match.

Robin: Not to mention the fact that their ten times more entertaining. I love you Will Friedle!

Porno Lad: You’d be the only one. Anywho, now that we’ve dispelled the rumors and put things into cold hard Spock like logic, it’s time for you, our overweight self conscious viewers to sit back, open a brewskie, stick your hand down your pants, whatever your ritual may be, then enjoy a show free of the Empire and heavily saturated with Five Star Society segments. You can either thank us with fruit baskets, or with the phone numbers of your barely legal teenage daughters. But only the hot ones.

All the gathered members of the Five Star Society grin towards the flashbulbs.

Porno Lad: So without further ado, live from New York, it’s RIIIIOOOTT! Oh, and your welcome.

OPENING VIDEO PACKAGE

RIOT!

Cameras are flashing and people are dancing, at least the inebriated ones. The signs in the air and the electricity in the building lets everyone know that Riot! is LIVE.

Billy Mayne: Feel that Katie, just feel it!

Katie Steward: Stop pulling my hand towards your thigh.

The camera cuts quickly to Billy Mayne and Katie Steward occupying the chairs normally reserved for the commentary team. No good can come of this.

Billy: Billy Mayne has OFFICIALLY returned to his home sweet home. This chair STILL has my ass groove.

Katie: No one cares about your underdog rise to prominence Billy, it’s as anticlimactic as Rudy, or any inspirational film not based on my life-story.

Billy: The Five Star Society has finally given you people an announcing team that has PERSONALITY.

Steward: My toe nail has more charisma than Mark Coma.

Mayne: I think his name was Comeau.

Katie: Well it should be coma, that’s what I slip into whenever he starts speaking..

Mayne: Anyway it’s great to be back. I’ve been waiting two years, TWO F’N YEEEEAAARRS, listening to some blond tart out here make a fool of themselves, and don’t even get me started on Susie Moore, WAITING to get my old job back. I have the Five Star Society to thank for all of this….I wrote a little speech about it. Actually it’s more of a Haiku.

Steward: Your lame poetry will have to wait minion, because we’ve got a clusterfuck to think about.

Billy: Really?

Steward: If you scoot any closer I’ll stab you with my tiara.

FOUR CORNERS TAG

“The Sacrament” hits the PA system and results in a loud roar from the crowd, mostly in the form of boos. The heckling audience would pelt the two men on the stage with vegetables if they had any readily available. Unfortunately they’ll just have to make do with their degrading chants. The Painted Warrior and the scarred sociopath stand shoulder to shoulder on the stage, fog rolling in under their feet and their backs highlighted by an ominous blue laser light. Psycho and Riggs grimace towards the fans before embarking down the ramp and towards the ring.

Billy: We’re going to open up bigger than Courtney Love’s legs people, Riot! starting out with a four corners tag team match. On their way to the ring are Psycho and Riggs, two guys who already have had quite the night.

Katie: I take it your referring to that bit of footage filmed before the show.

Billy: You got it. What Katie and I are alluding to is a backstage incident that occurred between Riggs and World Heavyweight Champion Simon Cagero. We have footage of said incident and later tonight we’ll show it to the world.

Steward: Assuming of course that the sight of Riggs’ face didn’t crack the camera lens or melt the film.

Mayne: Careful now Katie, these are two of those psychotic types. They’ll peel the flesh from your face and wear it as a makeshift vagina.

Riggs and Psycho slip into the ring as the Painted Warrior removes his X-Class Title and tosses it to the official.

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

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

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

He heads to the ring with stern focus and an energetic gait as the crowd cheers but hesitates at ringside.

Billy: Oh how sweet it’s going to be to see this guy get in that ring with Psycho. He’s going to be MUTILATED.

Katie: By the looks of him, he already has been.

Mayne: He and Psycho are scheduled to enter the Psychotic Steel Cage at Extinction as part of a triple threat match, but we may not have to wait till then to see these two massacre one another. I’m so giddy I think I have an erection for the first time in six months.

Axl lingers at ringside and anticipates the arrival of his tag team partner, all the while he and Psycho continue to make eye contact.

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

The unmistakable voice of Jon Bon Jovi is heard singing the chorus to Unbreakable before the pyros explode. The song plays again as Rich is seen energetically coming from the backstage area. He is clad in tights half red and half black. His boots match the color of the tights with an “R” in the opposite color. His vest is white with “The Real Deal” in red on the back.

The former N.H.B. Champion screams for the people that are cheering him. He begins to jog down the isle while slapping the hands of the fans that cheer him on.

Rich rolls into the ring and runs to a corner, jumping on the middle turnbuckle to perform to the fans. All the while Evermore stands back and actually claps for his opponent.

Billy: Actually I think it’ll be even sweeter to see Rich get in that ring and get his ass handed to him by these murderous drakes.

Katie: Did you just call them “drakes?”

Billy: Yes, I’m expanding my vocabulary.

Katie: Well stop, I find your superficial attempts at being an intellectual offensive, just like your body odor.

Jon and Axl climb to the apron side by side, staring down the demented duo who try coaxing them into the squared circle. The official desperately tries to keep both teams separated until the rest of the combatants reach the ring.

“Hollywood Whore” hits the PA system and before the crowd can even wince Katelyn Parkwood and her impressionable sister Kitty Buehler step to the stage. The lovely ladies stand side by side before striking a provocative pose and then head down the ramp. They wear matching t-shirts, featuring a “5” side by side with a star pattern with the word “society” written under it. They waltz with a sultry strut down the ramp and to the ring.

Katie: Here are the guaranteed winners of this match. Too bad Robin couldn’t be apart of this though, considering that her preggers belly has left her side lined.

Billy: Indeed, therefore Kitty Buehler has been selected as Robin’s surrogate. What a dangerous team the Buehler fraternal twins will make. Beautiful but deadly.

Steward: You steal that from a comic book or something? I wouldn’t know, I don’t read comic books myself, considering that I’m an authentic superhero.

The Buehler’s climb to and wait on the apron, hesitating to get in the ring with either of the two teams present.

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

When the lights go on, standing in the middle of the ring, his arms out but his head down, is Zero. He soaks in the fans' applause, slowly raising his head to them. He slowly takes off his dress coat as the audience continue to applaud, even though the music has stopped.

Steward: I swear if its Ralph Maccio under that mask I’m out of here. Can’t stand that little rat face.

Mayne: He turned you down didn’t he?

Katie: Nooooo, I turned him down. Men don’t turn me down minion. They only turn down to look at the floor as they bow at my feet.

Billy: I don’t know who this Zero character thinks he is, abducting Alex Ingelson and everything. It makes me physical ill to think of what he’s doing to Ingelson. I just hope it doesn’t involve squealing like a pig.

Zero climbs to a turnbuckle and lingers there, surveying all of his opponents through the slits of his mask. “Outsider” the moment these lyrics hit the PA system an explosion of cheers rock the Manhattan Center. Through the curtains steps the always maniacal, always plotting Evans. He pauses momentarily to survey the screaming crowd and smirk before proceeding down the ramp. Zero watches his partner for the evening near the ring and roll right inside. He gets to a knee briefly and eyes the combination of Rich and Evermore then shakes his head.

Billy: How many low lives, with the exception of the Buehler sisters, are they going to cram into this match? It’s bad enough that you’ve got Rich and Evermore in there, but they’ve got this masked goon, and now this backstabber Evans involved too.

Katie: It looks like Evans has never heard of the word “soap” before.

Mayne: That’s because he’s scum, Goddess, absolute SCUM. Who will ever forget his selfish display at Upping the Ante, where he TRIED to win the World Title. It makes me ill.

The bell chimes in the background to officially commence with this guaranteed show stealer. One man who is no stranger to stealing the show occupies the ring, Axl Evermore, standing mono a mono conveniently with his age old rival, Pat Evans. The two have been involved in a wide range of bouts, from Steel Cage brawls to Stretcher matches, and now they prepare to lock up yet again.

Billy: Oh yeah, two guaranteed ratings killers about to face each other.

Katie: To all those watching at home, this is the piss break session of the show. So remove your catheters and run to the bathroom while you can. Don’t worry, you won’t miss any of my classic commentary, mostly because I’ll be sleeping.

Evident by the look in their eyes, Evans and Evermore aren’t about to put anyone to bed, with the exception of their opponents. They step in and lock up, jockeying for positioning amongst a loud roar of approval from an excited crowd. Almost immediately Evans slips under the arm of Axl, and twists it out to his side. The arm ringer has Evermore growling but he doesn’t even consider submission at this point.

Evans decides to work over his opposition with another more painful hold. He wedges his foot to the crease of Axl’s knee and brings him down to the canvas.

Evermore now kneels on top of the ring with Evans trapping his head in a neck cravat, seamlessly transitioning into the submission. He twists at the head and neck repeatedly, almost separating the two from one another.

Billy: Go ahead Evans, take that head off, not like it’s doing Evermore any good.

Katie: I’ve seen prettier faces in carnival sideshows.

Although his head threatens to be ripped from his body, Axl continues to deny any impulse to submit. With Jon cheering him on, Axl ascends to his feet and then performs a quick, sudden counter. Somehow he is able to work his hand between his jaw and the crease of Evans’ elbow, dragging it away from his head. He then falls away from Pat and hooks that crease in order to flip his opponent over into an arm drag.

Evans rolls across the canvas straight back to his feet, charging at his kneeling opponent. Evermore catches the back of his adversary’s knee and sweeps his legs out from under him. The second that Pat hits the canvas, Axl stands wedges a foot on top of his wrist to pin his arm to the canvas then drops down knee first into his bicep.

Steward: Looks like Pat won’t be pleasuring himself to the thought of me later tonight.

Mayne: Evermore going after the arm, which I guess is some type of strategy. I really don’t know, nor do I care.

Katie: Then we finally agree on something other than how naturally beautiful I am.

The weight crashing down on his bicep sends shockwaves of pain all throughout Pat’s body. He sits up and grabs at his arm just as Evermore drops behind him and hooks it. He also hooks the other arm for good measure, applying almost a double chickenwing variation with his knee also wedged to the small of his opponent’s back.

Unlike Rich, Zero offers no inspirational words to his partner, he just stares through the slits in his mask without a sign of empathy. Evans doesn’t need cliché inspiring phrases to motivate him, the thought of tapping to Evermore is more than enough to get him moving.

He forces his way up to his feet with both arms still hooked from behind, trying to come up with a counter of his own. Even though the pain must be unbearable Evans begins to free one of his arms and then drops to the canvas, using his still trapped limb to flip Evermore over. Axl hits the canvas after the arm drag but rolls straight to his feet. He turns and comes barreling back at a kneeling Evans who reaches out and catches the inbound ankle of his opponent.

He lifts up on it and sends Axl tumbling to his back, Pat standing up and going for the ankle lock already.

Billy: Good, he’s going for one of his more lethal holds, hopefully it’ll end this match mercifully quick.

Evermore isn’t about to let the match come to an abrupt conclusion. Both feet are wedged to Evans’ chest and used to kick him off. Pat drops to the canvas but scrambles back to his feet. He rushes at Axl only to be caught with am arm drag.

Pat tucks into a forward roll and is right back on his feet in a matter of seconds. He twirls around, coming back at Evermore who hooks his elbow and goes for another arm drag. This time Evans plants his feet and refuses to be flipped over, causing Evermore to bridge above the canvas trying desperately to take him down.

Pat yanks upward on his arm and forces Evermore to stand back up where he immediately goes for a kick to the gut. Evans catches the boot in his hands though, then grins diabolically, indicating that he’s about to apply the ankle lock. Axl leaps into the air and cracks him in the back of the head with an enzugari, once again dashing his opponent’s hope to apply the submission.

Evans turns in a disorientated state and staggers towards an enemy corner. He falls against the turnbuckle and Psycho makes the tag to his shoulder, quickly barreling into the ring. Axl has just gotten back to his feet before being taken right back down. He has no idea what is happening until it’s too late, finding himself stretched across the shoulders of Psycho in a torture rack. The Sadistic One drops to his seat and connects with the torture rack back breaker.

Billy: Psycho all over Evermore, possibly breaking his back.

Katie: As if Axl’s back wasn’t in bad enough shape carrying the weight of Jon Rich. Is Jon’s body made entirely out of blubber?

Axl’s kidneys may have been popped like a pimple, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to reach his feet. He winces through the agony as he ascends upwards only to be caught across the back of the head. It’s obvious that Psycho isn’t about to give Evermore any leeway whatsoever.

He lifts Axl up into the air and throws him into a turnbuckle, Evermore hitting the corner forcefully. His arms fall over the ropes and Psycho comes charging in delivering a huge knee to his ribs. The collision knocks Axl down to his seat, back pressed to the corner while his hulking opponent backs to the center of the ring for another running start.

Psycho charges forward yet again and delivers a second gigantic running knee strike, this time nailing Axl right between the eyes. Just as Evermore begins to fade into a coma, Psycho takes him under the jaw, shouting down into his disorientated features.

Psycho: You couldn’t leave well enough alone could you? Well just wait until I get you inside of that cage, Axl, then you’ll see why you should have just walked away.

Upon completing his statement the Sadistic Savage draws back his fist, anticipating the swing. He teems with excitement at the thought of bludgeoning Evermore when a hand slaps his shoulder. Psycho finds himself the victim of a blind tag this time, looking up just as Zero leaps over the top rope into the ring.

Billy: What the hell is this idiot in the cheap Halloween mask doing? He just tagged himself in at the expense of Psycho. Is he suicidal?

Katie: I would be too if I wore an outfit like that out in public, YUCK.

Zero picks up where a shocked Psycho left off, delivering stomp after stomp to the prone sternum of Evermore. He has no idea that the disgruntled Psycho is still lurking behind him, almost foaming at the mouth. Finally Zero learns of his egregious error the moment the back of his neck is snatched hold of and his body is heaved into the air.

Psycho delivers an inverted chokeslam, throwing Zero down face first into the top turnbuckle pad. The collision sends Zero flying backwards and collapsing across the canvas.

Mayne: Hahahaha, YAY, that was hysterical.

The disgruntled Psycho stands Axl up in the corner and hooks his arm before throwing him half way across the ring with a hip toss. Axl collapses with a hard thud across the canvas while Psycho follows along in hot pursuit. He stops only briefly to cock his fist in the direction of Katelyn and Kitty, both women hopping from the apron to save themselves.

Psycho grins at the sight of their fear, before turning his focus back to a struggling Evermore. The torture rack backbreaker continues to leave Evermore incapable of defending himself. There is seemingly nothing he can do as Psycho grabs him by the wrist and shoots him off into the ropes. Axl bounces off and sails towards Psycho who has bent forward in anticipation of a back drop.

Thanks to Axl’s perfect timing he’s able to stop just short of his opponent’s shoulder and kick him directly to the face. Psycho stands up straight looking absolutely irate, nostrils flared, eyes bulging from their sockets. He rushes forward into a short arm clothesline to take his opponent’s head off. Axl ducks the inbound arm and as soon as Psycho turns around he’s drilled under the jaw with a leaping back heel kick.

The kick sends Psycho into a spin, turning towards the center of the ring where he’s nailed under the jaw with a superkick. Zero connects with the kick at just the right angle to finally take Psycho off of his feet.

Mayne: Awww, they worked together to take Psycho down. That’s not fair, their not even part of the same team.

Katie: But it looks like they both go to the same tacky tailor.

The kick sends Zero into a spiral of own, twirling across the canvas but turning just in time to spot Evermore charging directly at him. Zero leaps into the air as a result and drives the top of his knee directly into the temple of his opposition. The stiff blow echoes throughout the arena, causing the crowd to cringe and sending Evermore collapsing to the ring. He rolls past the still laid out Psycho and under the ropes.

As he rolled past his partner’s feet, Jon reached through the ropes and made the quick tag. He now slips through the ropes and tries to catch Zero off guard only to learn that the masked man is incredibly quick on his feet.

Zero side steps the inbound Rich and kicks him to the back of the knee, knocking his legs out from under him. Jon lands on his seat as a result with Zero charging into the cables in front of him. He bounces off and goes for the running knee strike only to have Rich drop to his back and avoid it.

The momentum causes Zero to turn his spine towards Rich, who then sits up hooks him around the thigh and drags him down into a school boy.

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Zero kicks out, dropping over to his knees in the process.

Katie: The action getting really difficult to keep up with so I’ll stop even trying.

Billy: I second that motion.

The moment that Zero begins to stand Jon catches him by the wrist and pulls him forward into his shoulders, now holding him in a fireman’s carry.

Jon seems intent on hitting some type of big maneuver that would surely undo Zero and put him away. However, his opponent won’t go down quite so easily. He slips off of Jon’s shoulders, lands behind him and quickly wraps both arms about his waist.

Rich rushes forward in order to block whatever damaging move his masked opposition had in time. An exasperated Rich rushes right into the ropes, hitting them chest first and then wrapping his arms about the cables. Zero continues to hold on and now transitions from one move to another, dropping to his seat in an attempt to roll his adversary up into a pinning predicament.

Jon’s grasp on the top rope is unbreakable, causing Zero to have nothing to show for his troubles as he rolls all the way back to his feet. Rich turns around and tries to catch his rising opponent off guard, leaving the safety of the ropes and charging right into Zero’s shoulder. The enigma catches Jon around the waist and snaps back into a bridging Northern Lights suplex.

Mayne: No, no, somebody break this up. I don’t want to see either man have any type of success.

Katie: It’s okay Billy, judging by their appearances I don’t think they ever will.

The ref slips into position, slapping the canvas to end what has already been a thrilling bout.

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Jon kicks out, getting his shoulder up and causing Zero to land back first on top of his chest. It may take all of Rich’s strength but he bridges not only his own weight, but the weight of Zero from the canvas as well. The two reach their feet and then spin around to face one another, fists clinched, both men having the same idea.

Their plans simultaneously adjust to compensate for the encroaching Riggs. They reach out and catch the intruder under his arms before hip tossing him through the air.

Riggs crashes across the canvas spine and seat first, sitting up and grinding his teeth from the pain.

Billy: These two men have absolutely no class, and no respect for the rules.

Once they’ve taken care of Riggs, Jon and Zero turn their attention back to one another. Yet again they suffer as a result of being so like minded. They charge forward and connect simultaneously with lariats. Jon collapses to the canvas and so does Zero, the two now clutching at their damaged throats.

Katie: They hurt one another, how amusing.

Billy: If only they could do that with every move.

Jon keeps gasping for air, his face going blue while Zero lays motionless on his side, wheezing for breaths as well. It’s at this point that Katelyn and Kitty spring into action, the Buehler sisters entering the ring and quickly snatching the wrists of a battle worn Rich.

Steward: What are they up to?

Billy: I don’t know, but given their cup size, I can guarantee it’ll be brilliant.

Katie: After hanging out with Katelyn for as long as I have, I’m not sure she’s actually capable of brilliance.

A defenseless Rich is dragged into the Buehler corner where unknown peril waits. Just as it seems he’s going to fall victim to a well timed mugging, Katelyn instead slips to the apron and extends her hand over the top rope. Kitty lifts Jon’s palm and slaps it into her own, officially tagging her into this match.

Mayne: That’s one way to get a tag.

Instead of harming Rich, Kitty gently rolls him out of the ring and allows Katelyn to take his place. She leaps over the top rope and turns towards a discombobulated Zero, who has just reached his feet. She rushes towards him, delivering a punch to his forehead, followed by another, and another. She has him reeling, Katelyn taking a moment to enjoy her rare display of dominance.

She now does some fancy footwork, some juke and jiving across the canvas, making the crowd’s skin crawl. Finally she attempts to end the break dance with a jab that puts a definitive end to her showboating. The crease of her arm is caught and used to push her around into a spin. She turns in a full circle then looks back to face Zero who catches her around the neck and charges at a nearby turnbuckle.

Katelyn finds herself the victim of a face lift, an unwanted procedure. Zero uses her head like a battering ram as he charges at the turnbuckle and falls to his knee, driving her nose first into the second rope.

Mayne: Noooo! That may have damaged her gorgeous face. Her precious, precious face. What will I have to master….I mean, to…..I’ve already dug myself into a hole haven’t I?

Katie: You haven’t confess to anything I already didn’t know you were guilty of.

Parkwood staggers backwards, the young vixen looking quite traumatized. Zero now stands up with his spine pressed to the turnbuckle, an unfortunate position given Katelyn’s quick recovery. She shakes off the bump and then rushes at her prone opponent for a lariat. Zero swings his body out of the way, legs dangling over the middle rope and hands locked around the top one.

Katelyn hits the turnbuckle chest first this time, an equally as important part of her anatomy, then begins to stumble backwards. After the first step back her face is crushed by the shins of Zero, who leaned in reverse and allowed his legs to catapult over the top rope with skull crushing force.

The knock on the head sends Katelyn collapsing to her back, looking absolutely out of it. All the while Zero frees his legs from the middle rope and then throws them over the top one. He leaps onto the turnbuckle and bounces off the top rope with the creases of his knees, flipping over into the split legged moonsault. The impressive move connects and puts Zero in line for a victory.

He hooks Katelyn’s leg as the official slaps the canvas.

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Kitty audaciously enters the ring and grabs Zero’s ankle in order to break up the count. She drags him towards the center of the ring before Zero rolls to his back, wedges his feet to her ribs and kicks her off. Kitty goes staggering into the waiting arms of Evermore, who catches her spine against his shoulder then stands up straight. A terrified Kitty is back drop suplexed over the top rope, causing her to flip over and crack face first off of the apron before ultimately meeting the mats.

Billy: More cheating, dammit, someone get me a striped shirt.

Katie: Are you about to ref the match?

Billy: No, I just really like those shirts.

Despite not being the legal man Evermore enters the fray once again. Zero is on his feet and is charging at Evermore only to run into a dropkick straight to the shin, knocking his legs out from under him. Zero collapses to the canvas across all fours and Evermore leaps over his back. He catches Zero around the neck and the thigh, pulling him over onto the back of his shoulders.

Official Fitzpatrick informs Axl that he is not the legal man, that is Oklahoma roll is irrelevant. Axl gets up to argue with him, waving three fingers in front of his face, his anger blinding to him to the more pressing danger. He turns just in time to be hit with a lariat to the throat that sends both Axl and Psycho traveling over the top rope. Both men crash down to the outside mats with a sickening thud.

Billy: Psycho going after Evermore yet again. I’m loving the chaos, just keep mutilating each other fellas.

Steward: As long as you keep your smelly, hairy bodies away from the no skank zone AKA the announce table.

Both Evermore and Psycho rest on the mats for a few moments, having suffered their own separate traumas throughout this very fast paced match. Zero has rolled back to his feet and spots the kneeling Katelyn. He limps, which proves costly, towards his opponent, but moves too slow to avoid her leap into the air.

He lands right on top of Zero’s chest then begins unloading with right hand after right hand directly to his face. Punch after punch connects square to his jaw, Katelyn performing the only move she doesn’t botch 80% of the time, the Lous Thez Press.

After connecting with her strikes for several moments, Katelyn sits up and feels confident enough to lift one of her powerful fists into the air. This is exactly what Zero needed, taking advantage of Parkwood’s flamboyance. He lifts his legs into the air, locks them in front of Katelyn’s shoulders and sits up. As a result she falls to her back, finding herself trapped into a sunset flip variation. Zero sits up, pressing his shoulders into the back of her thighs.

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Katelyn is just about to taste defeat before Riggs re-enters the ring, charges in and delivers a dropkick directly to the masked face of Zero. The blow knocks him to his back and breaks up the pinfall.

Mayne: Riggs’ intervention keeping this match going.

Katie: Which is why these clusterfucks tend to drag on all night, there’s so many people who can break up the pin.

Official Fitzpatrick finally gets some order over this match, forcing Riggs to vacate the ring. He slips to the apron and observes the product of his handiwork. Through deranged eyes he watches Zero crawl towards his corner. Zero has been in the match for quite some time and has taken quite a beating throughout. Now he desperately reaches for his partner, Evans standing in the corner with arm outstretched. What neither man realizes is that on the other side of the ring there seems to be a mirror image. Katelyn crawls towards a recovered Kitty and tags her in.

To a huge reaction Zero slaps Pat’s palm and brings him into the match as well.

Billy: Oh great, Evans getting another tag, prepare to snooze once more.

Kitty comes barreling across the ring, unaware that a tag has been made until Evans comes flying over the top rope and nailing a shoulder block. The spunky lass is taken to the canvas with Evans landing beside her, feeding off the raw adrenaline of the crowd.

Pat stands up immediately after hitting the shoulder block just as Katelyn comes charging in. In a split second decision Evans catches Parkwood with a tilt a whirl back breaker right across his knee.

Katie: Hmmm, I knew I should have bestowed some of my keen wrestling knowledge upon them, being the uncrowned SCW World Champion that I am.

The dominating Evans reaches his feet, absolutely on fire. He turns towards Kitty who is back on her feet and throwing a kick. He lifts his forearms though, blocking her shin from hitting his chest then going into a spin. He twists out of it and delivers a violent lariat right across a stunned Kitty’s throat. She hits the canvas and Evans springs to his feet.

He turns his back on Kitty who is now crawling in the direction of the Painted Warrior, who has his hand extended, anxious for a tag into this match. All the while Evans is directing his focus on a recovering Katelyn, who finds herself crouching on the canvas. That is until she leaps into the air, catching the inbound Evans around the back of his neck and dropping to her knees.

She hits him with a jawbreaker, causing Pat to stumble backwards. With her opponent dazed Katelyn has time to reach her feet then lunge into the air for the Lou Thez Press. This time it’s blocked with a highly unexpected counter. Evans reaches out and snatches hold of Katelyn’s leg, pulling it out from under her in mid-air.

Parkwood collapses to her back and then is rolled to her stomach, Evans applying the ankle lock to a HUGE pop from the crowd.

Billy: This isn’t happening, it isn’t happening, it’s all a hallucination brought on by those special brownies I ate in high school.

Katie: Or from the fumes in the IWC lockeroom.

Parkwood pushes herself up with her palms, screaming at the top of her lungs. One of her hands stops supporting her and stretches over the canvas, ready to tap out and award victory to Evans and Zero.

One very crafty individual isn’t about to let victory slip through his fingers, that man being Riggs. He sneaks up behind Evans, hooks one leg around Pat’s and the other around his neck, applying an Octopus submission.

Mayne: This is rare.

Steward: What? The hold, or the fact that Riggs is actually getting in any offense?

Riggs is dissecting several parts of Pat at once with this hold, wrenching back on his arm, trapping his leg with one of his own and cutting off the air to his head by locking his other leg around the neck. Just as it seems that Evans is on the verge of submission he balls up his fist and keeps on truckin’.

Instead of saving Evans, Katelyn only adds to the madness. She struggles to her feet and sees the predicament that Evans is trapped in, prompting her to step in and lock her arm around his neck, applying a side headlock submission.

Billy: Katelyn’s got the greatest hold ever established. Well in her mind it’s the greatest hold, and that’s really all that matters.

Now Evans finds it even more difficult to breath as Katelyn leeches off of Riggs’ hold by locking in one of her own. This bodies in the ring become even more entangled like knotted hair when Zero adds his two cents. He steps in, back turned towards Riggs and wraps an arm around his chin, bridging it over his shoulder. He has a modified rear chinlock applied from a reverse neckbreaker position. The crowds is going nuts over the contortion of all these bodies.

Neither Riggs nor Evans submit as they find themselves trapped in these holds and it isn’t until Rich gets involved that the madness finally ends. He slides into the ring and charges towards Pat’s exposed stomach, leaping with both boots into his ribs.

His kick damages Evans but jars him loose in the process. Riggs is forced to break his hold and as a result suffer the trauma of a reverse neckbreaker at the hands of Zero. The moment Evans is freed from the Octopus Stretch, Katelyn leaps forward and plants him face first into the canvas with a bulldog. He flips over to his back, leaving him in perfect positioning for a Katelyn pin attempt.

Fitzpatrick has such trouble keeping up with the legal participants at this point that he finally just drops nad makes the count.

Katie: That’s right, count, count faster Fitzpatrick. Count like your job depended on it, because it does.

The crowd is screaming with each slap of the canvas.

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Jon, Zero and Psycho all leap across the ring and converge at the same place, right on top of Katelyn. Although she normally welcomes three men on her at once this time she receives no pleasure. They drop three double axhenaldes to her spine and as a result break up her pinfall attempt.

Steward: See how powerful Katelyn is? It took three opponents to break up her pinfall.

Billy: Their all lucky she and Kitty are holding back in this match, that’s for damn sure.

Katelyn arches her spine as she rolls across the canvas, suffering from all the weight that came crashing down upon her. Psycho rises to his feet after having re-entered the ring and broken up the pin, Jon and Zero doing the same. All three men stand at about the same time, exchange quick glances and then employ some fisticuffs.

Their punches connect with one another’s faces for several seconds until it turns into a two on one equation. Zero and Rich are once again working as a team, nailing the bigger and more dangerous Psycho with punch after punch. Once they have him rocked they interlock hands and back up, getting a running start for a stereo lariat. They need no verbal communication, appearing to be quite in synch as they rush at their shaken foe.

Their arms travel right towards his neck but miss their mark. Their momentum sends them spinning back towards the Sadistic One who catches them both around their throats then shows remarkable strength by heaving them simultaneously into a stereo chokeslam.

Billy: Two for the price of one. How do you like that, Goddess?

Katie: I care not for it in the slightest.

The devastator turns to survey the damage he’s inflicted but has no time to appreciate his handiwork. Kitty is already springing off of the top rope and flying towards him, looking for some type of high risk maneuver. He move lives up to its name, proving to be a risk she couldn’t afford to make. She flies right into a shoulder block by Psycho. Kitty is swatted out of the air and sent flying back first into the canvas with jarring force. She rolls backwards after the impact and spills through the ropes.

Billy: Psycho cleaning house, unfortunately it’s at the expense of the Buehler sisters, so I’m not going to applaud his actions at all.

The incredibly powerful big man turns just in time to be drilled across the sternum with a knife edge chop that rocks him. Evans is back and he is unloading with strike after strike to the Sadistic One, desperate to take him down.

With Psycho disorientated he is unable to defend himself against the roaring elbow by the dangerous tactician. The elbow misses its mark though, Psycho ducking and causing Evans to turn his back on his opponent. The Sadistic One quickly hoists Evans up into an electric chair position with Pat urgently trying to fight out of it. He delivers jab after jab down into the face of Psycho but has yet to avail himself of his predicament.

Things only get worse for Evans when Riggs climbs the turnbuckle behind him and leaps off, catching Pat around the head and pulling him from Psycho’s shoulders down into a bulldog.

Mayne: Ohhhhh my oh my, hahahaha, Evans just got FACED!

Katie: What’s that supposed to mean?

Billy: I was trying to come up with some clever slang…..

Steward: Okay, I stopped paying attention to your explanation when you used the word “clever.” That is one thing you’ll never be minion.

Pat flops to his back and lays damn near comatose as a result of that devastating tag team maneuver. All the while Riggs is trying to get to his feet, rolling to his elbows and knees just as Evermore comes rushing back into the ring. He steps off of Riggs back and uses him as a prop to launch himself at Psycho, catching the big man around the neck then delivering a brutal tornado DDT.

Psycho is planted with brutal force skull first into the canvas then flops to his back where he lays motionless.

Mayne: Where the hell did he come from?

Katie: I’m guessing the womb of a junky who did far too much crystal meth while pregnant.

The crowd hops to its feet in excitement over what they just witnessed while Axl sits up on the canvas, his confidence beginning to return. That is until Riggs ricochets from the cables in front of him, charges in and delivers the shinning wizard. Axl is knocked to his back with the crowd going absolutely mad over what they’re seeing. Riggs quickly crawls into the lateral press, hooking a leg for further leverage.

Steward: Don’t tell me this painted freak is going to win the match. Shouldn’t he be hanging from chains backstage or something.

Riggs incoherently rolls away from the cover, trying to regain all of his faculties as he reaches his feet. Clearly the fast pact, frantic action in this four way is having a clear effect on his mind. He shakes off the cobwebs forming in his head just in time to spot Kitty Buehler charging in. A kick connects to his upper thigh, causing him to wince in pain before Kitty leaps into the air and connects with a spinning heel kick to the back of his head.

Riggs is sent traveling into the turnbuckle, falling against it for support, spine wedged to the corner. An ever so confident Kitty turns and comes charging in only to connect with the raised boot of her opponent. The blow sends Kitty stumbling through the ring and clutching at her face in pain. All the while Riggs pulls himself up the turnbuckle in reverse, standing on the second rope and preparing for flight.

Katie: Get out of the way Kitty, get out of the way.

Riggs leaps from the turnbuckle just as Kitty is shoved aside by her own sister. Katelyn leaps into the air and catches the inbound Riggs with a breathtaking diamond cutter. The KBO connects and sends Riggs convulsing across the canvas.

Billy: YEEEESSS! Now pin him quick and score a win for the Five Star Society.

The fans are perhaps even more stunned than Riggs after seeing Katelyn perform a counter that allowed her to hit that God awful cutter variation. No matter how sloppy it was the KBO proved effective, leaving Riggs prone to the pinfall. With the aid of Kitty, Katelyn reaches her feet, turns and spots the down Riggs then makes a move like she’s about to go for the cover.

However, she stops in her tracks, eyes switching to a barely cognizant Jon Rich. The banged up Rich is still suffering the ill affects of that chokeslam he received moments ago, leaving him dead to the world. To the surprise of everyone Katelyn opts to target Jon instead of going for the pin. She grabs Rich’s wrist and at the same time Kitty grabs the other one, the two exchanging a nod before they drag him across the ring.

Jon’s arm is then placed over Riggs’ chest.

Mayne: Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are they up to? Why are they putting Rich on top of Riggs?

Katie: Do not question the antics of the Brat Pack, minion. Just sit back and enjoy the ride.

Billy: Yeah, I already did that with Katelyn a couple of weeks ago, but even you’ve got to be confused as to why they’re putting Rich in a pinning position.

Katie: I’m NEVER confused, minion, my mind is always crystal clear and thinking seventeen billion moves ahead of everyone else.

Mass confusion has taken hold of the Manhattan Center with plenty of shrugging shoulders and arched eyebrows in the stands. They all watch as Kitty grabs official Princeton by his shirt and throws him down to the canvas, demanding that he make the count.

The official is very confused but slaps the canvas nevertheless with the fans booing.

Mayne: Wait. You don’t think….

Katie: What did I just tell you? I’m ALWAYS thinking, but unlike you, my thoughts don’t involve visualizing myself naked. Well, sometimes they do.

Billy: Is Jon Rich the mystery boyfriend that Katelyn has been talking about for weeks? And if so, I can’t imagine it sit well with Christian Savior.

Princeton slaps the canvas by order of the Buehler sisters.

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His hand comes down yet again just as Zero springs into action. He grabs Jon’s shoulder and pulls him off of the cover much to the chagrin of both the Buehler’s. They simultaneously throw jabs that Zero ducks, rushing into the ropes behind them. Both ladies spin around just as Zero springs off of the middle rope, flies back and delivers a stereo reverse elbow.

Mayne: Blast Zero’s hide. Can’t he stay out of anyone’s business?

The traumatized sisters roll across the canvas clutching at their cleavage yet Kitty is quickly back to her feet. She throws a cocked fist directly at Zero’s face that connects before he responds with a shot of his own. Kitty is staggered by the shot but suddenly reaches out and ravages Zero’s eyes with her nails, which somehow find their way beyond the mask into his pupils.

Katie: Gouge those eyes girl, gouge them. I taught her this move.

As Kitty rakes the eyes Katelyn gets into position behind Zero, the sisters setting up for some type of tag team move. The plan is thwarted however, when Evans intervenes on behalf of his partner. He grabs Katelyn’s shoulder and spins her around, then goes for a big lariat.

Katelyn ducks the lariat however, prompting Evans to spin around and be caught around the neck, Parkwood going for her KBO yet again. Kitty has the same idea, lunging into the air and catching Zero around the neck as she sets for the diamond cutter as well.

That’s when Kitty is shoved off and sent charging into the ropes, ricocheting off and coming back in at Zero who catches her with the STO. Kitty is planted with vicious whiplash into the canvas while at the same time Evans counters Katelyn’s KBO into the Spinal Tap. Her body arches over Evans’ knee, sending her into convulsions across the canvas.

Billy: YIKES! I can’t watch anymore, I’m putting on my blindfold.

Katie: Just where this paper bag over your head, and keep it there the rest of the night.

The crowd is going nuts over what they just witnessed in the ring, watching Evans and Zero take out both Buehler sisters. Zero is quick to capitalize on this opportunity, ensnaring both of Kitty’s legs, wrapping them around his own and then twisting her to her stomach to apply the sharpshooter.

Billy: Not the sharpshooter, anything but this, where is the rest of the Five Star Society to stop this already.

Zero leans forward but sits down even further on the compressed spine of Kitty, who is already looking on the verge of submission. Evans steps over her, shouting down at the prone Kitty, trying to entice her to submit through some trash-talk. That is until Evans decides to get a little more physical, with his own partner! He grabs Zero around the neck and drops back into the evenflow DDT.

Mayne: Wait? WHAT!?! Evans just stabbed his own partner in the back. Yes, hahahaha, YES!

Katie: Maybe he got sick of Zero’s shitty costumes.

Zero flips over to his back after being dropped right on top of his head, Evans now standing above him being heckled by the audience. The crowd just doesn’t seem to understand why Pat drilled his partner with the DDT when victory seemed to be a certainty. Official Princeton is asking him the exact same question to which Evans offers a short and bittersweet explanation.

Evans: I don’t give a SHIT about this match.

He now approaches Zero and begins stomping away at him while he has the opportunity.

Billy: We just got a response from Evans, I think he’s more concerned with that four way at Extinction where Zero will be one of his opponents, rather than this match.

Katie: I don’t care what his motives are, just keep hurtin’ Zero already.

Zero is sat on the canvas at this point and Pat attempts to get a psychological advantage over him by grabbing the bottom of his mask and ripping on it.

Mayne: He’s trying to unmask him! He wants to get into Zero’s head and possibly throw him off his game at Extinction. This is just wonderful. I didn’t know Pat had this in him.

Katie: I think it would be for the best if they just kept the mask on. Something tells me that Zero has a pizza face which is just yucky.

The mask is pulled up and over Zero’s chin and begins to creep its way towards his lips. With all his opponents down Pat has as much time as he needs to finish his task and reveal Zero’s identity to the world. He almost has the mask off at this point when the lights suddenly go out in the building.

Katie: Just how crappy is the wiring in this building?

Billy: I don’t know but I suddenly want my binky.

Steward: You’ve just lost the right to speak for the rest of the night.

The lights remain out for several seconds but then we come back on the fans are shocked to find Evans standing in the ring with mask in hand. Although the mask has been removed no identity has been revealed, Zero has vanished from the ring, leaving only Evans and the mask in his grasp.

Mayne: Ahhhh, bull. How dare Zero evade an unmasking. That twisted little bastard.

Evans keeps hold of the mask, glaring into it and everything it represents even as he’s caught from behind and pulled over into the Get Rich Quick. The fans explode at the sight of Evans’ neck bouncing from Jon’s shoulder with the modified cobra clutch neckbreaker and popping back up to his feet.

Pat stands for only a moment before he’s kicked to the gut and hit with the Fully Loaded Stunner. Evermore came out of nowhere to deliver the blow and send Evans flying back into Rich who catches him with a school boy roll up for the pin.

Katie: This is just disgusting.

Billy: Get Rich Quick, followed by the Fully Loaded Stunner. I really hate seeing Evermore and Rich working so well as a team.

The official slips into position, hand raised above the canvas to make the count. Katelyn climbs up onto the apron to intervene in the pinfall attempt but then sees that it’s Jon pinning Pat’s shoulders to the canvas. Strangely she grins and drops from the apron, signaling to Kitty that their leaving.

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3

The arena erupts into pandemonium, everyone in the Manhattan Center hoping out of their seats in excitement.

Billy: RATS! Rich and Axl victorious. That blows.

Katie: Then it has something in common with your commentary. These two won’t have very long to celebrate, mark my words.

Although they may be very fatigued and shaken up from this hard hitting, fast paced encounter Axl and Jon are still able to give each other a congratulatory knuckle bump. They then high five one another in the center of the ring as the celebration continues, the crowd hamming up their victory. Unfortunately this sparse ray of light on a cloudy day is consumed in darkness once again by the intrusion of two very angry individuals.

Psycho enters the ring and Evermore only has time to push Rich out of the way before a chair travels directly into Axl’s ribcage.

Mayne: BRILLIANT.

Katie: Told ya.

Although Axl saved Rich from suffering the blow he had no time to clear himself out of harm’s way, as a result he finds himself kneeling on the canvas clutching his wounded ribs. Before Jon can aid his partner he’s blindsided with a swinging kick to the back of the head from Riggs. Jon collapses to the canvas right next to the ropes, the cables offering Riggs some support now as he delivers stomp after stomp to Rich’s prone body.

Billy: Their being mauled, I LOVE IT! Put those boots to ‘em boys.

At this point Psycho delivers a hard running kick directly to Axl’s temple, knocking him from his knees to the canvas. He now shouts towards Riggs who rolls under the ropes, reaches under the ring and retrieves yet another chair.

Mayne: I think we’re about to see a repeat of what happened four weeks ago.

Steward: We can only hope, although I have no clue what happened four weeks ago, mostly because I never watch the show.

Billy: But your part of the show.

Katie: Yeah, but that still doesn’t mean I have to watch it.

After re-entering the ring Riggs kicks at Rich until he rolls to the center, finding himself sprawled in an unconscious heap across the ring. Instead of targeting Evermore, Psycho seems to be playing psychological warfare, focusing his attack on Axl’s partner and friend, Jon Rich.

Mayne: Psycho and Riggs are going to injure Rich, and they’re going to make Axl watch them do it. How wonderfully twisted of them.

Axl tries to get up but is put right back down with some stomps to the skull from the Sadistic One. He is powerless to help as Riggs steps over Rich’s chest and places the edge of a steel chair straight to his throat. The chair stands vertical from Jon’s neck into the air as Psycho slaps his palm to his own steel weapon. The crowd begs and pleads for him not to do it as Psycho steps back and wedges his spine to a corner, lifting the chair into the air with both hands. His maniacal gaze shifts to Evermore, making sure he’s conscious enough to see what’s about to happen, to see the ending of his tag team partner’s career.

Katie: Get it over with already.

Psycho lifts the chair above his head and rushes forward when all the lights in the building go out AGAIN.

Steward: What the….someone give me my checkbook, looks like I’m going to have to pay the IWC’s electricity bill.

Billy: I guess the electric company stopped accepting foodstamps. Get the lights on already so we can watch Psycho mangle Rich.

The anticipation is killing the crowd, anxiously stewing in their chairs. Suddenly the lights raise and reveal that Rich has been spared from his crucifixion. The moment that Psycho and Riggs realize that their chairs reside over an empty patch of canvas they lose it. In a huff Psycho throws down his chair and actually shakes from the rage boiling his blood and inflicting him with a pounding migraine.

Billy: Where in the hell did Jon Rich disappear to? Is he some type of sorcerer?

Katie: You don’t know that, he could just as easily be a leprechaun.

Billy: So he’s Vince McMahon’s illegitimate son too? Not only does he steal a victory but he steals my dreams as well. BLAST HIM!

Now Riggs and Psycho must modify their plan, a languishing Axl Evermore sufficing for their original target. Although someone took the liberty of saving Jon before his throat could be crushed, salvation does not come for a wounded Evermore.

He desperately tries to reach his feet as Riggs opens a chair and sits it on the canvas. Axl is in the process of standing, or at least gets a knee beneath him before his throat in engulfed in the massive palms of his arch rival. Psycho’s face twists with sheer delight as he hoists Axl up to his feet and turns in anticipation of driving him through the chair with the Redeemer.

Mayne: At the very least we……oh for crying out loud.

To the surprise of many the lights dim for a third straight time, encasing the squared circle in shadows.

Katie: Somebody really needs to give the production staff around here a stern lecturing. For one the power keeps going out, and secondly where’s my spotlight? I demanded to have a spotlight on me all throughout the night, do I get it. NO!

The lights seems to stay out for an eternity before finally raising and bringing another startling sight into view. Riggs, Psycho and Evermore all find themselves in the same positions they were in before the lights went out with the Sadistic One seconds from planting Axl through the chair with the Gonzo Bomb. However, attention turns to a sudden addition to the ring, and he’s not just there for décor. With trashcan in hand Too Magnificent lurks in a corner, face twisted by his malevolence, eyes focused on the prey.

Billy: What in blue blazes? How did Too Magnificent get out here?

Katie: He walked? Obviously.

Psycho looks between the prone Evermore in his clutches and the man who put him through a flaming table last week, picking which person he should victim. Before he can come up with a decision Too Magnificent swings a can straight into his skull. Psycho breaks the double handed goozle just in time to partially block the trashcan, but his skull still takes much of the impact. He goes spiraling into the ropes at this point and then Riggs falls victim to an equally as nasty trashcan blow.

The Painted Warrior was just in the process of picking up the chair to employ it as a weapon before he falls victim to the skull shattering impact of steel to bone.

Mayne: The Motherfucker…..I’m just stop there, is taking his frustrations out on both these men. I’m still surprised he didn’t turn out extra crispy after the events of four weeks ago.

Katie: Regardless his skin could still use some moisturizer. Like A LOT of moisturizer. I’m talking buckets.

After the X-Class Champion is sent plummeting to the canvas the target becomes Psycho, who is employing the ropes to remain upright. He leans against he cables, wheezing and gripping at the knot on his forehead, trying to overcome the trauma of the trashcan shot.

Too Magnificent isn’t through yet, with can raised above his head he moves in to literally split his rival’s skull. His plan is thwarted by way of a hand capturing him around the throat. The mood in the Manhattan Center has been altered like the fans went off their antidepressants. They watch with lowered heads and sunken hearts as Psycho prepares to deliver the chokeslam on the man he’s victimized for many, MANY years.

Billy: This could be bad.

Steward: If it involves Psycho and Too Retched, it’s guaranteed to be.

The fans watch with baited breath as Psycho prepares to put Too Magnificent down like a deranged dog. He has such wonderfully twisted ideas swarming through his head, ideas that never come to fruition thanks to the punt between the uprights. A kick nails him in both testicles, doubling him over with Too Magnificent having free himself from the predicament.

Acting quickly, just seconds after possibly saving his own life, Too Magnificent locks an arm around the bent forward Psycho then employs every bit of strength to heave him into the air. Psycho is elevated above the canvas for only a moment until he’s dropped head first into the canvas with the Midas Touch.

Mayne: The Midas Touch takes Psycho to hell in a hand basket.

Katie: The Midas Touch? I’m sorry but the only thing golden that comes out of Too Ridiculous is his urine.

The fans are back to being super excited, looking like adrenaline junkies on the verge of an overdose. Their applause continues as Too Magnificent slowly rises to his feet, overlooking the man who he will face in just two short weeks inside of the Psychotic Steel Cage. A twisted grin settles on his face as he reaches into his pocket and removes a lighter.

Billy: Ohhhh, here we go again.

Katie: Did anyone bring marshmallows?

Too Magnificent looks from the sparkling lighter into the faces of the fans, some imploring him to use it, others begging him to show mercy. Mercy isn’t a word in Too Magnificent’s vocabulary. His thumb goes to spark a light but all light becomes consumed by darkness once more.

Mayne: Damn rolling blackouts! This is getting obnoxious.

Steward: And you would know a thing or two about being obnoxious minion.

Darkness blankets and suffocates the ring for a few more precious seconds before the lights return and Too Magnificent remains standing over a barely coherent Psycho. Seemingly nothing has changed, according to Too Magnificent that is. What he is unaware of is the fact that an individual is crouching behind his back, steel chair extended from his palms. The big man finally turns around when Axl Evermore almost caves in his skull with a disfiguring chair shot.

Billy: Ahhh-hahahahaha!

Katie: Are you turned on by chair shots or something?

Billy: Feel under the desk and find out.

Steward: I have a rape whistle, minion.

The steel thuds against Too Magnificent’s skull with such force that he’s sent collapsing straight down to the canvas. He was caught completely off guard by the traumatizing strike that continues to echo throughout the Manhattan Center. Axl backs up eyeing the two men he’ll face at Extinction inside of the Psychotic Steel Cage. Obviously he has NO appreciation for Too Magnificent unintentional save, and when Evermore was provided with an opportunity he took it. He now backs away from both men and slips through the ropes to the apron.

Billy: Evermore has got to be in the mind of Too Magnificent now, he just knocked him out with that chair shot. Can’t wait to see these two disfigure each other in the Psychotic Steel Cage.

Katie: Yes, I’m sure the thought gives you a big rubbery one.

Axl hesitates on the apron for a few moments, watching his two rivals attempt to gather themselves. Before either man came come too and get payback, Axl vacates the apron and marches without looking back straight up the ramp. He doesn’t care what happens inside of the ring, or who it happens to.

Riggs is already up and has Psycho under the arm, assisting the scarred behemoth to his feet. Once the Sadistic One is to a knee he shakes off the Midas Touch and the trashcan shot, his hair tossing in the commotion. Finally he bangs fall over his twisted face, his rage beginning to cloud his judgment once again. Now it’s he who reaches for the lighter, laying beside the body of Too Magnificent.

Once Riggs spots the silver Bic in his partner’s hand he goes through the ropes, standing on the apron before shouting out to the crowd.

Riggs: TAAAABBLLLLE TIMMMMME!

The crowd would usually erupt with a showing of support for some mindless violence involving the tables. But this time they sit stoically, trying not to inspire the two disturbed individuals in the ring, realizing that they need no further motivation to concoct their ill deeds.

Mayne: Something tells me we’re going to see another flaming table.

Katie: And something tells me that I’m about to faint from boredom.

All hope and elation has faded from the crowd who are now pleading with Psycho to reconsider. Where were they when he was about to fall victim to another burning? This is the thought that races through Psycho’s head as he raises the Bic into the air and Riggs drops outside of the ring to supply a table.

That’s until….you guessed it….another random power outage.

Billy: This is getting re-God-damn-diculous.

Katie: This is no time to try and save on the power bill.

When the lights regain power another intruder is revealed to the masses. Their voice boxes and lunges almost implode at the sight of the trench coat wearing figure kneeling on top of a turnbuckle, Singapore cane in hand.

Billy: Ohhhh nooooo….River Angelus.

The masses are leaping from their chairs at the sight of the shadowy figure lurking on the turnbuckle, weapon clutched in palm and burning rage in his eyes. Smartly Psycho evacuated the ring the moment the lights went out for what has to be the fifth straight time, realizing that someone was waiting to get the drop on him. River makes no move to go after the Sadistic One watching him outside of the ring, he’s perfectly content with kneeling on the corner and listening to the fans chant his name.

Mayne: River Angelus back in the IWC. How long has it been since we’ve seen this guy?

Katie: Why are you even bothering to ask me?

Billy: It’s been well over a year since Angelus stood in an IWC ring and he chooses here and now to make his return? What is the point of this? What does he want? Why is he here?

Steward: Again your asking me questions I have no interest in answering.

The Painted Warrior joins Psycho, standing at his side and giving the same penetrating stare to the darkly clad figure now pointing a Singapore cane towards their faces. Too Magnificent rolls to his side, propping himself up with his forearm and staring at Angelus with the most confused eyes.

Billy: What a wild start to tonight’s show? River Angelus returns, brawls, power outages, what else is going to happen here tonight? A Katie Steward striptease perhaps?

Katie: I think I just vomited in my mouth.

The Manhattan Center continues to rumble after that chaotic series of events all building to the arrival of River and his stare-down with the two men occupying the steel ramp.

IN STYLE

After all the frantic action inside of the ring the crowd still has enough left for a tumultuous reception, their eyes spotting a long sleek limo pulling into the enclosed parking facility.

Billy: How thoughtful. The Five Star Society have sent a limo to get us the hell out of here.

Steward: I’m not sharing a limo with you, an announce table is bad enough.

The vehicle finally comes to a stop, lights reflecting from its polished black exterior. However, the buffed and waxed surface of the limo isn’t important, it’s the license plate that draws everyone’s attention. The camera is perfectly positioned to catch the front license plate. Engraved into said plate is one word that sends the crowd into a frenzy.

EMPIRE

Judging by the reaction from the rabid crowd, everyone from youngest to oldest, from widest to thinnest, whether they be foreign or domestic, are ecstatic over the arrival of the Empire to the Manhattan Center.

Billy: Just wonderful, just wonderful. Figures that the Empire would steal my limo.

Katie: I can’t believe they would actually show up. I thought they would have stayed home and had their scalps waxed or something.

Billy: Porno Lad had better have his stun gun ready.

Excitement continues to build over the arrival of the Empire to the Manhattan Center, creating a very explosive atmosphere.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

WWE and Loony Tunes, a Perfect Combination

12 INCHES

Fox: That’s right, not 6, not 8, but 12….

Michelle: Twelve inches?

Fox Arcane grins with the arrogance of a wolf amongst sheep. He knows all to well that he’s mastered the delicate art of the “wooing period.” He leans across the sofa a little closer to Michelle, who sits legs crossed, rubbing a scratch on her wrist.

Arcane: Would I lie to you?

Blacker: It can’t possibly be that big.

Fox: Okay, FINE, if you wanted to see it, all you had to do was ask.

Before Michelle can protest Fox’s hand is inside of his pants. Her jaw drops once Arcane whips it out for the whole world to see.

Michelle: That’s got to be the most obnoxious pez dispenser I’ve ever seen.

The item withdrawn from Fox’s pocket is proudly held up high, revealing the unnecessarily long shaft leading to the dispenser on top.

Fox: You know you’re impressed, Michelle, stop fighting it. Just sit back and admire its beauty. It’s like a gift from Anubis himself. Look at the craftsmanship that was put into sculpting the top. They wonderfully captured the bone structure in my face, don’t you think?

Michelle: I have to admit, it is pretty cool that you have a pez dispenser with your head on it.

The top of said dispenser confirms the topic of discussion. The candy containing devise does indeed resemble Fox himself.

Arcane: So how about it, Michelle? How bout a little head?

Blacker: Fine.

She extends her open palm and waits until a piece of candy falls into it.

Arcane: Don’t blame me if your overcome by the sheer sugary delight.

His arm extends across the back of the couch and finds its way onto Michelle’s shoulder. She keeps on chewing, pretending that it isn’t there.

Fox: Soooooo, you know that I’m main eventing tonight, right?

Michelle: Big whoop.

Arcane: Yeah, I know, there will be plenty of main events to follow, but I always like to savor the first time. Stepping into the spotlight and defeating Porno Lad will be greater than banging the entire cheerleading team during my senior year of highschool.

Blacker: All of them?

Fox: Okay, a couple of them were prudes, and I mostly slept with the second stringers, plus I think I banged the mascot too…..

He dwells on it for what seems to be an eternity.

Arcane: But that’s not important, just making a comparison is all. Although really, nothing will ever measure up to my first main event victory, which begins the legacy of Fox Arcane here in the IWC.

MICHELLE. You can come in now.,

Blacker goes to vacate the couch and pass through the open door just a few inches to the right.

Fox: Hey, where are you going? Thought we were getting friendly.

Michelle: Duty calls.

Arcane: But I thought we had a connection, that there was a certain spark between us.

Michelle: Well, maybe if….

Just as Blacker begins to give in Fox leaps from the couch and throws his arm over the shoulders of a very attractive young intern who just so happened to be passing by.

Fox: Hey there, names Fox, Fox Arcane. I’m main eventing tonight.

Michelle shakes her head and watches as the two waltz off down the corridor. She suddenly remembers that her number has been called, prompting her to leave the waiting area and enter the office of the IWC Co-President. She steps inside and motions for the camera to follow her.

Orlando Cruze: Okay, so then we’re all set?

Although he’s had the weight of the world on his shoulders, charged with the salvation of the IWC, Cruze takes a moment to ham it up. With phone to his ear he continues standing behind his desk, so excited that he can’t even bear to sit, nor answer questions. This would explain why an impatient Michelle lingers just off beside him, blowing a strand of hair out of her face then inhaling to bring it back to her lips.

Orlando: You’re a life saver man. I really appreciate you doing this for me….

He pauses to listen to the voice on the other end of the phone, his head bobbing.

Cruze: Yes, yes, there will be a HUGE payday even if you’re not needed. Just be there, okay?

The smile returns, even wider than last time.

Orlando: I’ll talk to you later, but just want to say it’s going to be an honor watching you lace up the wrestling boots again, hahaha. Alright, peace old friend.

The phone meets the hook and Orlando falls into his seat with a chuckle. He slaps his hands together, rubbing the palms to create friction then turning completely away from Michelle to watch the monitor balanced on the corner of his desk.

Michelle: Uhhhhh, Orlando.

The pale, zombie-esque Michelle leans over the desk, a position she’s use to, in order to get Orlando’s attention.

Blacker: I don’t think you called me back here just so I could watch you gab on the phone. Not that it wasn’t entertaining.

Orlando: OH….

Cruze turns towards the microphone and the hand clutching it, grabbing at his chest as he notices Michelle.

Cruze: I forgot you were here.

Blacker grimaces.

Orlando: But I’ll tell you what, Michelle, there’s one person who isn’t going to be forgotten around here anymore. That’s me, the Icon, because I just put together a BLOCKBUSTER deal.

Michelle: Really? Are you going to shed some light on it?

Cruze: Yeah, assuming the light doesn’t cause you to burst into flame.

Michelle: Hardy, har, har.

Orlando: Do you know who that was on the phone?

Michelle shrugs.

Cruze: Of course you don’t. The person I was just talking to happens to be a legend, a hall of famer, a former World Heavyweight Champion. And I just convinced him…..it’s almost too insane to say out loud.

Michelle: SPILL IT!

Cruze frowns, causing Blacker to timidly grin and speak at a lower, sweeter decibel.

Michelle: Boss

Orlando: Sorry, I’m just a little excited is all, because I pulled off the impossible. I convinced arguably the biggest star in IWC and ULW history to make a return at Extinction.

The fans inside of the building cheer so loud their reaction can even be heard in the isolated GM’s office.

Orlando: AND there’s a very strong possibility that he WILL be stepping into the ring.

Michelle: Interesting, yet vague. Clarify please.

Cruze: All I can say is….what the hell, let’s just put all our cards on the table shall we? The guy I’m talking about has graciously agreed to serve as a second stringer if you will. Given the injuries that Hurse sustained last week on Riot!, should he be unable to compete as a result, then the gentleman I just got off the phone with will fill his spot. Meaning that he’ll team with the Empire at Extinction to face the Five Star Society.

Blacker: That’s one problem taken care of, but what about tonight? Not only am I hearing that the Empire is going to strike back…..

Orlando: Hahahaha.

Blacker becomes confused.

Michelle: What?

Cruze: The Empire strikes back….

More confusion.

Orlando: Uhhh, you know, Star Wars….screw it, get on with what you were saying.

Michelle: Good, because I didn’t watch Star Wars, Spock’s ears freaked me out too much. Anyway, what are you going to do to prevent a potential war between the Empire and the Five Star Society? Plus, what about Riggs and Psycho, you heard what happened before the show didn’t you? Those two will tear each other apart, and get me totally horney in the process. Tell me you’ve got some type of plan, or at least a mop and bucket ready.

Cruze: Michelle, relax. Calm down, take a pill, take a shot, cut yourself, whatever, just chill.

Michelle: Me thinks you should deal with all this promptly

Orlando: Well Michelle my bell, I’m afraid that the Five Star Society have dug their own grave and now it’s time for them to lie in it. I’m not going to pretend that I can control the Empire. You’ve seen how well Johnny and I have worked together in the past after all. So if the Empire feels antagonized then by all means they should do something about it. And if Simon and Riggs cross paths again, then so be it. Nobody is going to be able to keep them apart. The best I can do is have security ready to intervene, otherwise my hands are tied.

Orlando crosses his arms and leans back in his chair with a carefree smile on his face.

Michelle: But isn’t that going to turn the company into a warzone?

The hair on Cruze’s chin is stroked as the Icon dwells in thought.

Cruze: I’m afraid, judging by what I’ve seen the past few weeks, that the IWC has already become a battlefield. But one way or another the final shot is going to be fired at Extinction.

Michelle squints, finding his comments to be very ambiguous. That’s when his phone begins to ring and he snatches it up.

Orlando: Yeah, yeah? Excellent. Of course I have time to talk.

RICK-ROHL VS. TNG

As the show returns live to the ring the fans find themselves viewing IWC’s newest acquisition with utter indifference. Currently stretching his thigh muscles is Theodore Noel Garrison, the very man ejected from his own interview just a few weeks ago. Now he has an opportunity to make another impression though, a physical rather than verbal one. His music playing in the background gives him motivation to keep limbering up before his big bout.

Mayne: I’m back here on Riot!, let me just emphasize that one more time, I, BILLY MAYNE, am back in the driver’s seat, haha. And to make my stay here even more enjoyable, I’ve been joined by quite possibly the baddest man since Mike Tyson, BFG. Welcome to the commentary table big man.

Apparently Theodore’s entrance wasn’t the only one missed thanks to that backstage segment. BFG is revealed behind the announce table, arms crossed and lips twisted into a frown.

Katie: I wish I could be as excited by your arrival as our minion, but I’m a little worried that I’ll be sucked into your orbit.

BFG: Nah’ K-Dogg, you ain’t got to worry. The only person who need be worried bout anything be that son of a bitch bout to wrestle.

Billy: Teddy?

BFG: No you stupid honky, I talkin’ bout his opponent. That guy goin’ round pretendin’ to be some type of bodyguard and an exotic dancer.

Mayne: Well I only strip on the weekends to make ends meet but I know your not talking about me. I assume your referencing Rick-Rohl.

BFG: Duuuuuh.

Never gonna GIVE YOU UP, never gonna LET YOU DOWN
Never gonna RUN AROUND and DESERT YOU

Never gonna MAKE YOU CRY, never gonna SAY GOODBYE
Never gonna TELL A LIE and HURT YOU

"Never Give You Up" by Rick Astley hits as the freakishly tall and well-defined Rick Rohl gyrates out onto the stage in his tight black trunks and white collar-with-black bowtie, humping the air to the whoops and hollers of the women and the general laughter of the internet savvy.

He swaggers down the ramp with a oddly arrogant smirk on his face (especially considering he's only 2 degrees removed from nude) and climbs up the stairs. He sits on the second rope and extends his leg teasingly before moving it through the rope and climbing into the ring, once again beginning to gyrate and thrust his hips in time to the danceable music assaulting our ears at this very moment, before heading to a corner and removing his bowtie collar, waiting for the bell

BFG: Look at this fraud, look at this phony. He ain’t nothin’, he ain’t got nothin’, he can’t handle the mad skills of BFG.

Billy: Don’t we all know it. The audacity of this man to go around bragging that he beat you at the Overbooked Extravagna.

BFG: He ain’t beat jack shit. I jus got a lill hyperglycemic in that match is all. If my blood sugar weren’t so out of whack I would pulverized that fool.

Katie: Is that why you’re out here, to sound all bitter? If your going to complain the least you could of done is bring me a few singles for Rick-Rohl’s g-string.

BFG: Nah, nah, I came out here for sumthin’ else home girl, and you bout to find out what it be.

Shortly after entering the ring and posing for the female fans Rick-Rohl is attacked from behind. TNG blindsides him with a surprising forearm to the upper back, a shot that sends the part time dancer and bodyguard stumbling into the ropes. He hits the cables with his spine before being punched over and over again square to the jaw.

Billy: I like this Theodore Noel guy already.

BFG: Yeah, he ain’t no square honky like you, Billy.

Mayne: I’m not square, I’m straight up jiggy. I listen to Backstreet Boys albums all the time.

Katie: With comments like those it’s just so hard to keep sitting out here beside you, minion.

Theodore continues to unload on Rick with a few stomps to the ribs now, followed by some unexpected European Uppercuts. Obviously Rick, nor the fans, are use to seeing him in this state, being overwhelmed by a far smaller yet more aggressive opponent.

BFG: There ya go, stay on him, keep that pressure goin’, jus like we talked bout.

Billy: Wait, you actually talked to Theodore before this match?

Katie: And he could understand what you were saying?

BFG: Yeah, he gave me a hollah backstage, had sum business wanted to discuss, and I gave him the 411 on dealin’ with this cracker.

A straight fist now connects to Rick-Rohl’s jaw, almost knocking him over. The man of many hats is taken by the wrist and shot off into the far cables. Rick bounces from the ropes and ricochets towards TNG who gets airborne, connecting with a back elbow on the inbound body of his opponent. The impact knocks a stunned Rick to the canvas with Noel twisting and coming down to his feet.

Mayne: Some blinding speed from Garrison, I’m impressed.

Katie: You’d be impressed if BFG burped the alphabet.

BFG: And I can, plus I can burp it backwards. That take lot more talent than that poser Rick-Rohl got.

Mayne: He certainly does look like a poser against this new comer.

With both of Rick’s wrists gripped he’s pulled up to his seat by his dominant opponent. TNG puts him right back down with an inverted curb stomp, driving Rohl’s body into the canvas with such force that he flops to his side.

Theodore quickly drops down beside his wounded opponent and begins delivering rapid fire shots to his face.

BFG: Keep them punches coming bro, he can’t handle it, he can’t handle anything.

Billy: That’s for sure.

BFG: The guy had to cheat at the Overbooked Extravaganza, Bill. He cheated cause he know I a better wrestler, I a better bodyguard and I sure as hell be a better dancer too.

Katie: You dance?

BFG: Damn skippy.

As the official gets on his case Theodore ceases his onslaught of closed fists. He stands up and back with palms raised, pleading innocence. As Rick begins to stand up in front of him TNG rushes around the official and tries to press his advantage. Unfortunately the newcomer didn’t have Rick as well scouted as he had thought. He’s caught right under the arm of the rib breaking, pole dancing, back watching star then dropped into the canvas with a side slam.

BFG: What da hell was that maaaaann.

Billy: A slight mishap. I’m sure Teddy will overcome it.

BFG: He had betta.

The crowd is awake yet again and screaming, overjoyed by Rick’s flash of dominance. He ascends to his feet rubbing at his jaw and his temples in the process. All the while TNG is rising to his feet in front of him. The moment the green around the gills grappler stands his nose is almost pushed back up into his brain by a well timed big boot.

TNG flies back, his head snapping off of the canvas in the process while Rick stands over him. Rohl slaps his knee and then shakes his pelvis to the delight of the screaming girls.

BFG: Maaaan, how these foxy hoes in the audience find that sexy? Tell me that Miss K.

Katie: I don’t know. They’re drunk?

BFG: They have to be on some type of gin and juice if they turned on by that shit. If you want some sex appeal just watch me shake my fine ass.

Katie: You have an ass? Is it somewhere hidden under all that fat?

After having his face turned inside out TNG is a little slower to reach his feet on this occasion. He reaches out try to find anything to use as a crutch but his hands repeatedly grasp at the air. That is until his fingers finally interlock around something, the hand of Rick-Rohl. To his surprise Rick actually helps Theodore to his feet, but his intentions aren’t the slightest bit noble. He uses the grip on TNG’s palm to tug him in and hoist his light frame up to his shoulder.

BFG: Hey, come on now, not like this, not like this.

BFG finds it especially traumatizing to watch Rick-Rohl rush across the ring and deliver the same running powerslam that ended their match at the last pay-per-view. He cringes as TNG’s body crashes into the canvas with enough force to shatter every bone inside.

Mayne: Ahhhhh, well maybe he’ll kick out.

Rick hooks TNG’s leg and official Fitzpatrick makes the count.

1

2

3

Billy: Never-mind.

The elated fans pop as a result of Rick-Rohl’s quick, dominant victory. Although Garrison gave it his all here tonight he came short, VERY short against the unstoppable powerhouse. Shortly after picking up the win Rick is already on his feet showing the fans that he didn’t even break a sweat. He then begins dancing to their delight until the party comes to an abrupt end.

BFG: Hey, heeeeey, Rick-Ho, yo Rick-Ho!

Billy: What is he doing? And where’d he get that microphone?

Steward: He must have had it stored somewhere in the folds of his fat.

The electricity is drained from the Manhattan Center by the black hole of charisma himself, BFG. The big man stands behind the announce table, microphone held to his lips. He’s already caught Rick’s attention, mostly because his girth makes him pretty impossible to miss.

BFG: Now that I got yo attention playa, I jus have one thing to say. I’m sick and tired of yo gyrating, crotch stuffin’, no talent ass stickin that big nose in my biz. That shit needs to end, and it’s gonna end playa. It’s gonna end at Extinction.

Rick feigns intrigue through his exaggerated gestures. He leans against he ropes with his forearms and tilts his head insightfully.

BFG: I know yo jealous, Rick-Ho. But that no reason to keep interfering in my matches. You just can’t seem to accept that I betta than you. So what you say that we settle it once and for all, end all be all at he pay-per-view? How bout I show the fans just how much betta I really am.

Rick strokes his jaw and finally shrugs.

BFG: But don’t get to far head of yourself man. See, I already proved I the betta wrestler at the Overbooked Extravaganza.

The last statement was so suspect that it actually elicits an eyebrow arching from Rick-Rohl.

BFG: And everybody know I’m a far betta’ bodyguard too. So what you say we pit our skills in a different arena. I’m challenging you to a DANCE OFF.

Billy: A DANCE OFF? Let’s hope it’s not of the pants off variety.

Katie: I hate you for the visual image you just gave me.

The challenge strikes Rick-Rohl as so ludicrous that he almost bursts into laughter. Somehow he keeps a straight face though and continues listening.

BFG: So what you say playa? How bout it? Ya got the balls to face me one last time? Or you too scared to let these fans see how much betta a dancer I am?

Rick looks back and forth at the crowd, gauging their reaction to this challenge. The majority of them whole heartedly endorse the concept. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, Rick nods, accepting BFG’s proposal.

Mayne: IT’S ON!

Katie: Why are you so excited over a dance off of all things?

BFG smiles as if he’s actually accomplished anything.

BFG: Good, then we settle this at the pay-per-view, but I gotta warn you playa. When this ass starts shaking their ain’t no stoppin’ it.

BFG briefly butt bumps Billy and almost knocks him out of his chair.

Billy: Good lord, control that thing man.

With the statement being made BFG and Rick-Rohl are now reduced to the obligatory tense stare down, both men realizing that all their issues come to a heading at Extinction.

Billy: Big win for Rick-Rohl, summarily decimating this TNG joker, and a big battle now set up for our next pay-per-view. But nobody had a bigger victory than me tonight, seeing as I’ve once again graced the commentary table.

Katie: I don’t see why it’s such a big deal to you. This chair is hurting my back and my headset smells like old mayo.

Mayne: Its validation, Goddess. Validation for my years upon years of hard work, years of honing and perfecting my craft, years of sacrificing for this company. Plus I get an extra zero on my paycheck.

Steward: Then you’ll finally be able to move out of your parent’s basement.

Billy: Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m not about to give up the free laundry service. And BFG isn’t about to admit defeat to Rick-Rohl. We’re going to see a dance off between the two at Extinction to settle the score once and for all.

Katie: I’ll take the liberty of gouging your eyes out now, Billy.

COME OUT AND PLAY

A black sleek limousine rests inside of the Manhattan Center’s enclosed parking facility, the license plate still the focal point.

“EMPIRE”

The fans may be overjoyed but can’t help being a little tentative given the threat made by the Five Star Society. A threat posted on the IWC website in which they promised to take out another member of the Empire should they dare come to the Manhattan Center tonight. Obviously the Empire doesn’t read the dirt-sheets, or they choose not to live in fear.

Nevertheless the crowd continues to go gaga at the sight of the limo, and at the thought of who might be dwelling within it.

Porno Lad: Ohhhhh Eeeeeeeemmmpiiiiirrreee.

Into the parking lot sashays the Rising Phoenix Christian Savior, followed closely by the Original Prankster Porno Lad, with Kitty Buehler and Katelyn Parkwood bringing up the rear. Steel pipes hang from the palms of all four individuals, about to be put to good use.

Katelyn Parkwood: I guess you guys aren’t all talk after all. Your more than just a couple of swinging dicks.

Christian maintains distance between himself and the limo, slouching as he approaches and tries to stay out of the rearview mirror. He musters the courage to begin tapping the rear bumper with his steel pipe.

Christian: Knock, knock, can Jackson come out and play? This would be so much more effective if I had soda bottles on my fingers right now.

Porno Lad: It takes a lot of balls to show up like this knowing we’d be waiting for you. You’ve shown you got ‘em now use ‘em. Get out of that car and face us like you got a pair.

Porno Lad leans forward to see into the window. There is nothing visible beyond the tinted glass, prompting Christian to become a bit more courageous. He extends his hand, fingers inches from the door handle. Porno Lad does the same on the opposite side of the car, showing trepidation, as if he were sticking his hand into a fire. With pipes held in the waiting position and back up literally standing over their backs, PL and Christian swing the doors open and swing their pipes as well.

They stop in mid movement, Christian and Ethan wearing the same expression of utter repulsion.

Carlos Marquez: Oooooohhh Porny!

From within the limo emerges IWC’s most flamboyant, emphasis on the word FLAMBOYANT, superstar of all times. Carlos looks absolutely enamored with Porno Lad, arms outstretched and lips already puckered.

Carlos: All this talk about testicles has got me sooooo frisky. Care to welcome me back, I have mistletoe.

The mistletoe only dangles from Carlos’ fingers for a moment before being slapped out of his hand.

Porno Lad: What were you doing in there?

Carlos: That’s no way to say “hi,” Porny. Now you’ve got me all teared up.

He fans himself with his wounded hand.

Christian: Just answer the man’s question.

Carlos: Fine, you two are so authoritative. I love it. Well, my sisters and I, being the….well… “friends with benefits”…. of the Empire, showed up with the fabulous Mr. Kingdom, and that big burly AWOL for a SIESTA!

Savior: Oh really?

Carlos: Ummm, yeaaaah. Do I have to repeat myself like a gagillion time? Also our favorite lil boy toys have a message for you.

Porno Lad: Relay said message.

Carlos: Okay Spongebob Impatience Pants….the Empire told us to tell you that if the oh so hunky Five Star Society want a war, then to meet them in the ring.

Porno Lad: They did did they? And why should we believe you? How do we know the Empire isn’t hiding somewhere in that limo? Let’s see who else is in the “mighty” Empire’s entourage. Everyone get out of there NOW!

Although Porno Lad has trouble fighting back his smile, and his words sound very rehearsed, he continues putting on the act as best he can.

Carlos: Fine, come on giiiiirrrrrlllls.

Carlos steps out of the way and from the limo emerges first a sailor, followed by a biker in hot leather, then a Cherokee Indian in loincloth, a policeman femininely blowing on a whistle, a construction worker dragging along a jackhammer, and it doesn’t end there.

Following behind the Village People impersonators is a scantily clad dominatrix with whip in one hand and a leash in the other. The leash drags along a half naked, obscenely hairy fat man wearing a diaper and a red ball in his mouth. Finally a sheep hoofs its way out of the car as well, joining in with the rest of the oddities who presumably accompany the Empire everywhere they go. Porno Lad and Christian watch with freaked out expressions on their faces.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

The Wonders of Fan Participation

RINGSIDE

The cameras return to the interior of the Manhattan Center, bringing the snooty face of Katie Steward into view alongside Billy Mayne who tries feebly to conceal his laughter.

Katie: Rest easy people for the enchanting image of Katie Steward once again dawns on your television screens.

Billy: And I’m here too.

Katie: Are you trying to kill the ratings? And here I thought Orlando Snooze was already doing a good job of that.

Mayne: Anyhow welcome back to Riot! and before the break everyone saw the Empire yet again run away from a fight with the Five Star Society, leaving behind only their “friends with benefits.”

Katie: How they have any friends at all is beyond me.

Billy: But changing gears for a second, we’d like to take this time to address the footage that we had promised you all at the onset of tonight’s show. That’s right, unlike Mark Coma and Susie Moore-penis-in-her-vagina, we’re actually going to deliver the goods. We’re going to show what went down when Simon Cagero, our splendiferous World Champion arrived on the scene.

EARLIER TONIGHT

The video rolls, focusing on Simon Cagero front and center, standing in the sealed off concession area. With World Title over shoulder and pen in hand, Cagero leans over a steel barricade to take a 8 by 10 gloss from an excited female fan. He scribbles his signature, making her day in the process. A large group of fans eagerly wait their turn as they file through the metal detectors stationed at the primary entrance to the Manhattan Center.

Billy: As you can see Simon Cagero was graciously handing out his autographs to some very fortunate fans, when this happened to OUR World Champion.

Katie: And by “our,” my minion means those exclusively in the Five Star Society.

After handing off his photo and then reaching over the railing to give his voluptuous fan a good natured slap on her well toned backside, she unleashes a shrill scream. Instead of pledging to sue Simon for harassment, she’s trying to alert him to another danger. With a quick response bordering on precognition, Simon sidesteps the inbound chair. It cracks directly into the barrier and slips out of the X-Class Champion’s hands.

Mayne: Number one contender Riggs, tried to get the drop on him.

Katie: And the most important word in that sentence was “tried.”

After he avoided having his back put into traction by the chair shot, Simon unloads with his own weapons, two bare knuckle fists. They collide with the painted face of Riggs over and over again while the huge crowd standing behind the barricade cheer him on.

Simon: What….the….fuck….were you….THINKING!?!

He speaks one word in conjunction with each punch that connects to a shocked Riggs’ face. He punctuates this mugging with a whip into the barrier. Riggs connects ribs first, falling against the steel, arm dangling over it with the excited fans watching on.

Billy: It looked like Simon was on the advantage, taking it to Riggs, but that wouldn’t last long.

Some of the more courageous fans actually grab Riggs’ arms and pin them over the barrier at the behest of the World Champion. A stunned Riggs tries to free himself as Simon rips his black shirt open to expose the black heart beneath. The crowd is getting a real treat, having just walked into the building and already getting some action. On top of that, they not only get to see the very violence they came for, but actually take an active role in it.

After a few chops, which receives a rousing “woo” from the fans gathered between the entrance and the barrier, Simon backs up to one of the concession booths and begins to toss some merchandizing off of one of the tables. Although the vendor pleads with Cagero not to bring his precious table into this brawl, his pleas go unanswered. Simon drags the table towards Riggs and positions it before screaming towards the excited fans.

Simon: All you motherfuckers came here to see Riggs go through a fucking table! Am I right!?!

The crowd confirms his suspicion and hold onto Riggs arms even tighter, refusing to budge. The Painted Warrior looks through his dreary eyes as Simon actually climbs up on top of the table and interlocks his hands. The World Champion shows that there’s no risk too great to take in order to punish his bitter rival.

Cagero: It’s time we took care of this cheap facsimile once and for all.

The sound of his arrogant and booming voice makes him deaf to the screams of the female fans, who desperately warn him. This time Simon’s reflexes aren’t quite as quick, soaring through the air and unable to reverse trajectory before he slams into the barricade. Riggs cleared from his path at the last possible second, causing Simon to hit the barrier with force.

Mayne: Simon was well on his way to putting Riggs through that table but instead our Champion ended up tasting some barricade.

A replay shows Simon connecting with the barricade from a variety of angles. Each shot makes the collision look even more devastating than the last. The video continues to roll with Riggs grabbing Simon by the hair and positioning him on the table

Mayne: And then things really got interesting.

Katie: For you maybe. The only thing that interests me is a mirror.

Although the fans don’t want to obey they also don’t want to get physical with the Painted Warrior who is ordering them to clear away from the barricade. He then leaps on top of the steel, planting his feet and slowly standing upright. He swings his arms in an attempt to stabilize himself. This millisecond of hesitation is capitalized upon by the crafty World Champion.

Billy: But Simon Cagero wasn’t about to go down so easy.

Just as it seems that Riggs is going to moonsault onto the World Champion and possibly send him through the table, Cagero rolls free from the wood. With blinding speed he rushes at Riggs and leaps into the air, dropkicking him to his rear. As a result Riggs is shot out into the crowd with the momentum of a bullet fired from a gun. He flies over the heads of several smaller onlookers and then finally tumbles feet first onto a vacant patch of the floor. He uses the shoulders of several inebriated fans, yes, some of them are showing up to the building already smashed, then tosses them aside like they were a hindrance rather than help.

Mayne: And when Riggs’ plan failed, we saw the X-Class Champion’s true colors.

Riggs continues pushing and shove through the fans filing into the building before eventually exiting through the entrance.

Billy: I understand that Daniel Ackart is backstage trying to get a word with the World Heavyweight Champion, Simon Cagero, after what went down earlier this evening.

The video ends and the cameras go live to Daniel clutching a mic in hand and holding it to his lips. Seated just off to his side is Simon Cagero, who is stooped forward in a chair lacing up his boots for one of the biggest matches of his career.

Daniel Ackart: Daniel Ackart reporting live from the dressing room of the Original Motherfucker himself, Simon Cagero. The Champ is HERE, and he’s already seen some action. Simon, pleasure as always to get a word with you bro.

Simon finally looks up from his laces to indulge the self proclaimed King of the Dirt Sheets.

Simon: You know I’ll always take some time out of my schedule to reminisce with my favorite stalker. But before we get started, I think you owe me a new rose bush, you trampled the one outside my bedroom window.

Ackart nervously lifts his shoulders until they almost touch his earlobes, his whole body cringing.

Daniel: My bad. If it’s any consolation to you, the thorns cut my fingers.

Cagero: Yeah, I’m sure that’s not the only part of your anatomy that got cut. Anyway, what’s your question, busy schedule, champion, Johnny Kingdom tonight, Riggs on Sunday. Ask, ask, ask away so I can get back to my training.

Ackart: Alright, we already saw that Count Chocula looking mofo attack you earlier tonight. Is this attack, and the possibility that Riggs could strike again going to weigh on your mind when you face Johnny Kingdom?

Simon wets his lips as he ponders his response.

Simon: To be honest with you, Mark, I wasn’t even thinking about Riggs. That’s how focused I am on my match tonight. Even after I was “jumped,” and ALMOST put through a table, my mind is still 100% centered on beating Kingdom.

Daniel: That must take an inhuman level of concentration, especially considering what Riggs has done to you and your partner, Too Magnificent, in recent weeks. What do you attribute to your uncanny, and unwavering focus on tonight’s match?

Cagero: It’s simple. I just really, really, really, really, REALLY want to beat Kingdom.

Daniel: Really?

Simon: REALLY!

Ackart: Beside the “w” in the win column, and the incentive of some type of cash bonus, why do you want to beat him so badly?

Cagero: That’s another simple answer. I want to finally shut his mouth, and the mouths of all my detractors. I want to show that I DESERVE to have this World Heavyweight Title, and that I didn’t win it by way of some fluke or screw job. That’s it in a nutshell.

Ackart: Good, Kingdom sounds fucked.

Simon: Six ways from Sunday, Daniel, six ways from Sunday.

Ackart: But I know that some part of you, a little inkling of your mind has to be thinking about Riggs and what effect he could possibly have on your match this evening. The guy is batshit crazy, he’s like Robert Downy Junior on a drug binder……

Cagero: Yeah, yeah, he’s unstable, he’s crazy, he’s Silencer sans charisma, I get it, and sadly I will have to keep an eye in the back of my head this evening. I think you, and everyone else needs to realize though, that there’s PLENTY of Simon to go around. I have more than enough ass whoopin in me for ten Riggs’, and ten Johnny Kingdoms. I’ll prove it one more time tonight if Riggs decides he wants to influence what promises to be THE greatest match in IWC history. His attack back fired before, and you had better believe that it’ll back fire should he press his luck again.

Daniel’s excitement level has reached its peek, almost orgasming at the thought of Simon searing Riggs’ flesh with metaphorical and possibly literal flames of hatred.

Ackart: I think I speak for everyone when I say that the main event has been eagerly anticipated and it’s going to be a pleasure to see it…..

For once Daniel actually shuts up, mostly out of the shock of seeing a familiar figure casually strolling into Simon’s lockeroom. Cagero looks up and observes the intruding party, but isn’t one tenth as shocked as the correspondent.

Simon: Just the man I’ve been waiting for. Please, take a seat.

Ackart’s jaw is still dropped as he watches River Angelus mosey forward and without uttering a word prop himself in the chair opposite to Cagero. Once River has himself situated, Simon looks up at Daniel, who is desperate for the scoop.

Simon: Daniel, would you be so kind as to leave us?

River: In other words, get the fuck out.

Daniel doesn’t need to be told twice or have the champion’s words translated, he hits the bricks and closes the door behind him, leaving Angelus and Cagero alone to chat.

COME OUT AND PLAY PART 2

The show returns live to the interior of the Manhattan Center, the camera positioned on a confused Billy Mayne and Katie Steward who is preoccupied with polishing her nails.

Billy: Ummm, yeah welcome back to Riot!, I have no idea what is going on backstage between River Angelus and Simon Cagero, but just let me take a moment to remind you that this isn’t a mirage, Billy Mayne and Katie Steward are your commentators this evening.

Katie: The GREATEST commentators ever. You forgot to mention that.

Mayne: I forgot I was supposed to every twenty seconds. What the hell was going on backstage? Why are Angelus and Cagero in conference with one another….I almost don’t want to think….

Katie: Your thought will have to wait Billy, cause some business is going down right now. Five Star Society business.

Billy: Then get a camera to the ramp. MOVE IT, MOVE IT!

Billy’s best Captain Harris impersonation proves effective, no Steve Guttenberg lurking about to ruin the well laid plans. The camera shifts to the entry way where Christian Savior and Porno Lad have now appeared.

Porno Lad: ENOUGH! ENOUGH! ENOOOOOOUGGGGH!!

The Rising Phoenix and the Original Prankster waste no time in heading towards the ring, both men looking very flustered as they answer the challenge of the Empire.

Porno Lad: We’re already sick of this mind fucking!

The fire in his tone is enough to convince everyone in the building that Porno Lad is FED UP. After entering the ring Porno Lad paces back and forth, wheezing as his chest tightens from sheer anger.

Porno Lad: And by mind fucking, I don’t mean when I stuck my dick in Paris Hilton’s ear. Yes, that is part of the reason that she’s now clinically retarded. But she’s nowhere near the mongoloid that Johnny Kingdom is.

The architect of the Five Star Society hierarchy continues to pace without his usual flamboyance or poise.

Porno Lad: We’re not going to be jerked around by the likes of you, Empire. Sure, we may give a couple of twenties to some back alley Guatemalan’s for that type of treatment, but your hands aren’t getting anywhere near our jungle jims. You will not, I repeat that, WILL NOT, intimidate us. Is that understand? Does that compute?

He directs his questions towards the entrance curtains, hoping for an answer.

Porno Lad: You may have vacated your El Camino before we could get to you, but the time for running is at an end.

Steward: That may have been the most ghetto limo I’ve ever seen. I’m surprised it didn’t pull in here on cinder blocks.

Billy: It was probably just sitting on AWOL’s front lawn this whole time. He strikes me as the type who has a lot of rusted car parts on his property.

Porno Lad: The Five Star Society made a promise and we intend to keep that promise. One of you are going down tonight at our hands, now who is it going to be? Who’s going to have the courage to step out here and take us on? Look, we’re not even at full strength? It’s only two men versus the oh so mighty Empire. THE most overrated stable since the Four Horsemen.

His comment is absolutely mauled by the fans.

Porno Lad: Robin isn’t here given her current state, and we’ve instructed every other member of the Five Star Society to stay backstage, because we want to handle this like men. And that’s what we are Empire, Christian and I are men. Men with testicles, HUGE testicles, testicles so big they’re orbited by smaller testicles. What are you boys packing? The answer. NOTHIN! Otherwise you would have come out here and faced us already…..

The Star Wars Imperial March theme kicks in and cuts Porno Lad off in mid-sentence. Never in a million years would he have expected the Empire to actually be baited by the hook he had thrown. Now he stands wide eyed beside an equally as flabbergasted Savior, who is in the process of removing his shirt. Although neither man has any intention of fighting, they still pretend to be in preparation for a war.

Mayne: Now we’re going to see who really is the dominant stable here in the IWC. Is it the Empire, or is the Five Star Society? I think we both already know the answer to that question, Katie.

Katie: Indeed, although I probably came up with the answer before you. But that’s only because my female brain is three times the size of any man’s brain.

Billy: So is your chest.

Katie: Pardon?

Mayne: I said I love your vest.

Steward: Thanks, it’s made from the hair of third world children.

Porno Lad rolls up his sleeves while Christian removes his expensive watch, stuffing it in his pocket. Both men are ready for what promises to be a donnybrook. The crowd teems with excitement, especially as the curtains open and through them emerges the group everyone has been waiting to see.

Although something about their appearance seems to be slightly off. For instance, Johnny’s well toned waist has been replaced by a pot belly barely contained by a black wife beater. Also Kingdom seems to have developed breast, crudely hidden behind the overstretched fabric.

It doesn’t take long for the fans to put two and two together, especially as the rest of the Empire comes to the stage. Clearly it’s Robin Brooks made up in a cheap Johnny Kingdom costume, her hair bound beneath a latex skin cap. A cardboard title belt rests over her shoulder reading “Bestest World Champion Evah.” She does an exaggerated Kingdom strut towards the ring with cardboard title in tow. She is followed by AWOL, who seems to have put on even more weight than his partner, and radically changed skin pigmentation as well. The only part of him that remains white is the skin cap covering his head.

BFG struggles down the ramp behind Robin, the only member of his team to have actually worn a mask. A Hannibal Lector mask that is.

Katie: I can’t believe they had the nerve to show up. Oh and by the way, remind me to buy MISHAP a thigh master.

Katie: I think you mean, AWOL, and by the looks of it, he definitely needs one, as well as a bottle of sunscreen.

Following behind BFG, who continues a God awful AWOL impersonation, is Jackson Adams, who also seems to have doubled in bra size. An obnoxiously bright yellow wig sits on top of Paris Dannon’s head as she heads to the ring, a mirror tucked under her arm. She occasionally raises it long enough to have a conversation with her reflection.

The Imperial foursome is rounded out by Hurse, or more accurately the hired actor who’s face is buried under a full plaster head cast. He walks with the aid of a crutch, hampered by the use of only one arm, the other also wrapped in plaster and held in a splint.

Porno Lad and Christian buck up their chests and clinch their fists, actually urging their rivals to enter the ring.

Billy: Beat ‘em down boys. This is your chance. By the way, is it wrong to suddenly be sexually attracted to Jackson Adams?

Katie: Yes, very much so.

Mayne: I’ll talk to a councilor after the show then.

Jackson, portrayed by Paris, leaps to the apron and holds open the ropes for Kingdom, AKA Robin Brooks. She slips through the cables into the ring with Paris following closely behind. Upon entering the ring Robin/Kingdom motions to her boots, and as if Paris were Lucky responding to a demand by Pozzo, she drops to the mats. A toothbrush is removed from her pocket as Jackson, AKA Paris, begins scrubbing the shoes of the God awful Kingdom impersonator.

Billy: Hahahaha, lick those boots clean Jackson, we all know that’s the only reason you were in the Empire. He’s a bigger whore than Tom Green.

Finally all four members of the Empire are in the ring, staring down the duo representing the Five Star Society. With microphone in hand Robin begins to speak at an exaggerated Kingdom tone.

Kingdom: So you have the unmitigated audacity to challenge the Empire? Don’t you know how great we are, and how much you suck? Well you do, you suck, absolutely SUCK, suck, suck. I’m…..I mean, WE’RE the greatest. Jeez, I really got to get down this whole teamwork thing, the fact that I constantly butt heads with my teammates kind of contradicts that whole Team Leader moniker doesn’t it? ENOUGH thinking about anything not involving how much you guys suck and how awesome I….WE are.

Christian: Are you going to throw a punch or are you just going to stand out here putting everyone to sleep with your words rather than your fists?

Kingdom: You know why I came out here, to talk. After all, that’s pretty much the only thing I do nowadays, seeing as I don’t win matches or retain titles. But I’m allowed to keep talking, to redundantly emphasize my greatness while putting in the most half hearted, half assed of efforts. I’ve earned it. I’ve earned the right to be lazy, to be arrogant, to be a stuffy old repetitious spot light hogging chrome dome, incapable of hanging up his boots even though my body is a shell of what it used to be. I HAVE to linger in this federation, like flatulence lingering in a room, cause I’m Johnny Kingdom, and I’m great, everyone else sucks. This federation wouldn’t exist without me being here to constantly put it down and contradict myself. You suck Porno Lad, you suck Christian, everyone SUCKS. They suck so bad and I rock so hard. I’m a former World Champion, which means I’m good, you guys are bad, you SUCK.

Porno Lad: Is this going to continue all night?

Kingdom: At least another forty minutes….

Porno Lad: Well I’m going to stop you there….KINGDOM….cause we’re not interested in talking.

The microphone is grabbed from Robin/Kingdom’s hand, now finding itself in the clutches of BFG/AWOL.

AWOL: Too bad, because you’re going to LISTEN. You don’t want to make me angry. I’ll rape you and snap your neck faster than you can say Richard Grieco.

Christian now takes the liberty of speaking for not only his team but the entire building.

Christian: I think it’s safe to say that nobody came here tonight for a mass raping, AWOL.

AWOL: Are you sure, cause I’m really good at it.

Christian: No, but thanks for the offer. Unlike the women you consort with in your promos, we haven’t laughed at your baby dick, so there’s no need to leave us dead in some shitty Motel 8.

AWOL: It was actually a Red Roof Inn. Get it wrong again and I’ll bite out your larynx and wear it as an anal bead.

Porno Lad: Well if your not out here to fight either, then we’ll just have to pick up where we left off last week with YOU….Hurse.

The badly banged up, one armed, one legged man is presumably terrified behind all that ace bandaging. Yet he limps forward with the aid of his steel crutch, and takes his place in the shooting range, standing between the Rising Phoenix and the Original Prankster.

Porno Lad: Frankly it’s an insult and an outrage to see you standing here….well kinda standing here….TONIGHT. We put a lot of time and effort into taking you out last week, and for you to recover….well kinda recover…..so quickly tells me that we wasted a lot of valuable time. So how about we finish the job right now?

Hurse clearly has no defense given the highly exaggerated state of his injuries.

Porno Lad: You know what, naaaaahhhh….

Porno Lad drops his head sullenly.

Porno Lad: If we were mangling the OLD Hurse it be one thing, but this Zach Gowen version of Hurse, well beating on him is just like shooting fish in a barrel.

A prompt pie facing by Christian sends Hurse tumbling backwards to the canvas, his crutch unable to hold him up.

Christian: Has ANY member of the Empire come out here to fight? That’s all we want, to get the obligatory clusterfuck brawl out of the way already.

Porno Lad: Seriously, this is boring the shit out of us. You guys challenged us to come out here, so fight already. Someone throw a punch, or at least say something creative. Jackson, JACKSON, come on guy, you’ve got a ton of one liners, and plenty of fight in ya.

Savior: To be fair I think I beat a lot of it out of him at the Overbooked Extravaganza.

Porno Lad: As those ROH wrestlers with no teeth put it….MAN UP!

Adams blows them off, far too busy clipping the nostril hairs of AWOL with a small pear of scissors.

Adams: I only speak if my masters allow me.

AWOL: SILENCE you. Now get back to clipping my nostril hairs before I eat your baby.

Porno Lad: Well there you have it everyone.

Both members of the Five Star Society throw their hands into the air, giving up.

Christian: The Empire has shown their true colors. Their nothing more than talk and a product of the hype machine.

Porno Lad: They’d rather hog all the TV time to deliver promos as captivating as watching Martha Stewart make a tampon out of than actually give you fans what you want, a fight against us to settle the score. They’re too aaaaafffrrrrraaid to face us, because they know exactly what’s going to happen. We’ll show them up and…..

Johnny: Hahahahaha, woooooowww…..

A standing applause is given by the least likely member of the viewing audience. Johnny, the authentic Johnny that is, appears on the Cartel-tron, interrupting the moment by clapping his hands and chuckling.

Mayne: HEY! Blast that Kingdom. Do you see now how evil he is? He’s so evil he’s deluded the space time continuum by being in two places at one time.

Steward: Doc Brown is going to be LIVID.

The Five Star Society finally drops the act, Robin removing the latex skin wig to free her long hair, eyes burning with hatred for the face on the big screen.

Kingdom: I’ve got to hand it to you guys, pretty original approach. Unless you take into consideration the nWo and DX skits that you pretty much ripped off.

Porno Lad pumps his fist at the screen, as if it solves anything.

Kingdom: This was just wonderful guys, grade A dialogue and I’m just amazed by the detail put into your disguises. You can’t even tell that Robin has tits. Although, you really couldn’t before she got into disguise either.

Now its Brooks’ knuckles shaking towards the heavens.

Johnny: And BFG, I just adore your delivery, you really exude what AWOL is all about.

BFG grins even though his face is still confined beneath the Hannibal mask.

Kingdom: If AWOL were a jobber that stuffed his face with cheese conies to compensate for his feelings of inadequacy that is.

Instead of shaking or pumping his fist, BFG uses his hand to try and hide the chili stain on the corner of his mouth.

Johnny: Riveting, riveting performances all around. And who is that portraying Hurse by the way, he just stole the show for me…..

Johnny squints and shields his eyes from the light.

Kingdom: Is that….is that…..why yes it is, that’s Andy Madrox isn’t it? One of the Five Star Society’s newest hired goons.

Every individual in the ring shares in a state of confusion, exchanging glances and scratching their heads. All of them seem to be wondering how, given the plaster around Andy’s head, Kingdom could detect his true identity.

Johnny: You guys really are a bunch of pranksters aren’t ya? Well I’m not a spoiled sport, I can roll with the punches. I’ve been known to give others a good natured ribbing too. Although most of my ribbings involved handcuffing people to cages and beating them senseless with a steel chair. But we all have our own forms of amusement. Take you guys for example. I’m sure you labored for weeks, months even, putting together this parody, spent every waking moment of the day working on it right? You used up all that time putting together this little “rib” for your own amusement. Sure you could have been training for your match, or developing some type of strategy given the fact that you’re just two weeks away from competing against the Empire, but nah, all that malarkey is too derivative right? You would much rather amuse yourself with an utterly pointless parody that accomplishes absolutely nothing.

Kingdom shakes his head over this sad squandering of time.

Kingdom: What was the point of all this? To make me blush? Well are my cheeks red? Do I look embarrassed? No. If you want to humiliate me it’s going to take a lot more than Robin indulging her transsexual desires. I’m sure Brooks has spent a lot of time watching Boys Don’t Cry, but that’s irrelevant. Yes, that’s the perfect word to describe this sad, sordid affair, “irrelevant.” Your costume party accomplishes NOTHING. Which is only fitting I guess, because that’s exactly what the Half Star Society will accomplish at Extinction, NOTHING. You failed to get into our heads and under our skin, just like you’ll fail to pin any member of the Empire on Sunday. So while I applaud your dress up, I’d be remiss if I didn’t call it like I see it, this was no more than a colossal waste of your time.

Christian: Hey Johnny, we’ll ask you again, are you done blabbering?

Christian addresses his questions to the giant head on the screen, causing Kingdom to pause and think.

Kingdom: Not really, but by all means interrupt.

Savior: Face it Kingdom, the Empire has given us nothing but free time. We’re not wasting or squandering anything. What’s the point of training? What’s the point of preparation? We’ve already shown the world that we can take out any member of the Empire just like that.

Porno Lad snaps on behalf of his partner.

Christian: So we’re better off putting together our “parodies” or “costume parties.” A real waste of time would be preparing ourselves for what will be the equivalent of a jobber squash at Extinction.

Johnny: A jobber squash aye?

Porno Lad: You heard him, Johnny.

Kingdom: Yes, and I actually do agree with him. It WILL be a jobber squash, juuuuust I don’t think we agree on which team is going to be the one getting squashed.

Porno Lad: If we agreed on anything I’d have to take a shower and bathe in battery acid. Face it Kingdom, for once, your team is going to be on the receiving end of a “squash.” Because you will lay down for the Five Star Society, and you will lay down here tonight for our hand picked World Champion, Simon Cagero. You will lay down and then you will walk away from this company FOREVER! Afterwards things will finally start to get entertaining around here again.

Johnny: Porno Lad, Porno Lad, Porno Lad, didn’t you get the memo?

Quick, confused glances are exchanged by the Five Star Society members.

Kingdom: The memo that states clear and unequivocally that Johnny Kingdom lays down for NO ONE!

Porno Lad: There’s a first time for everything Johnny….

Johnny: Not true. I mean, I’ve followed your career here in the IWC for a year and you’ve yet to do anything that’s impressed me.

Porno Lad: That’ll change at Extinction.

Johnny: You want change, I’ll give you change Porno Lad. You want the Empire to spice things up, to stop being “boring” as you put it. Well how about I do something the Five Star Society is incapable of and actually make this segment both relevant and entertaining.

Christian: And how do you intend to do that?

Kingdom: I’VE GOT IT! Christmas comes early boys and girls, because the Empire has brought a gift for you.

Porno Lad shrugs towards his teammates as Kingdom begins to reposition the camera centered on his face.

Johnny: Your probably asking yourselves how I was able to tell that Andy Madrox was portraying Hurse given all that plaster around his hideous noggin? Noooo, I don’t have X-Ray vision, although I do possess many other Superman-esque skills. My explanation is far less supernatural. It seems that Andy got a bit disorientated in his Hurse disguise and instead of coming to the ring he ended up in OUR hands.

Johnny forces the camera to shift to a bludgeoned and beaten Madrox spread across lifelessly across concrete. Kneeling beside him is a smirking AWOL, who actually lifts Andy’s limp arm into the air and waves it towards the Five Star Society.

Johnny: So now, LOGICALLY, you should be wondering how Andy can be back here enjoying his time with the Empire, and standing in the ring behind you at the same time? Hmmmm, I wonder.

Just as Kingdom begins to tap his temple, Christian spins around and is hammered in the ribs with a steel crutch. The blow doubles him over just long enough for the crutch to be swung into his lower back. Savior collapses to the canvas while the rest of the Five Star Society spin in time to see the plaster cast falling from the face of Jackson Adams. He begins to swing the steel crutch wildly, prompting Robin, Paris, BFG and Porno Lad to clear the ring and save themselves.

Billy: It was Jackson in that Hurse disguise all along? How diabolical!

Katie: Brian Adams has no idea who he’s messing with.

BFG reaches under the ring and grabs the ankle of Savior, sliding him out of the squared circle to his salvation. Adams doesn’t bother to give pursuit as he rips off his shirt in a Hogan-esque fashion in the ring then tosses it to the canvas. He picks up the crutch and swings it into the ropes, then slams it into the canvas, all the while urging the Five Star Society to re-enter the ring.

Porno Lad and Brooks are too busy cussing and assisting their traumatized partner to take Jackson up on his offer. They continue backing up the ramp swearing retribution.

Billy: I hope the Empire knows that they’ve just signed their careers away. The Five Star Society is going to get some retribution tonight, count on it.

Katie: They are so royally boned.

The crowd is still going nuts as Adams throws down the crutch and continues baiting the Five Star Society towards the ring. It’s clear that the fun and the games have just gotten started between the Empire and the Five Star Society.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Animal Cruelty

PORNO LAD VS. FOX ARCANE

Heavy notes of the guitar rip through the arena as Porno Lad's Entrance music "Epic Fail" Hits. Porno Lad steps out from the curtain wearing his epic bright blue leather jacket, a pair of black and bright blue customized chaps that have Porno Lad written down the side of both legs and the IWC Submission title around his waist. He thrusts his hips to the music as he struts. He looks up to the audience high above the roster pointing at a hot babe in attendance. The Big Screen shows clips of Porno Lad nailing the Epic Fail on the likes of Hurse, Jackson Adams and Christian Savior.

"You know he's hot you know your not.
You feel the jealousy creep up and down your spine
Your just an Epic Fail.
Your Such an Epic fail
The girls they love it when they see his moves

Porno lad does a spin in the center of the entrance way pointing out to the audience.

"You want to be him
Your Mom wants him
And he'd do her to
if she was hot
if she was hot
he'd do your sister to
if she was hot
His name is Porno Lad
Porno Lad"

PL makes his way down the aisle smirking deviously.

He gets the girls
He gets the belts
He's the next big thing
And your not
Because your an Epic fail
oh yea
Your an Epic fail

He smirks and then rolls into the ring and quickly spins up to his feet.

You may think your good
but your an Epic fail
such an Epic fail
Greatness is his destiny
Yours is to be a
Epic Fail
Such an Epic fail.

Porno Lad hops onto the top ropes and starts thrusting his hips lewdly before jumping off the top rope.

Billy: Boy does he ever look pissed off.

Katie: Wouldn’t you be? The Empire keeps running from a fight against him.

Mayne: That’s not shocking at all, the bunch of spineless cowards that they are. They ambushed the Five Star Society, that’s all. Porno Lad has NOTHING to be ashamed of, he was assaulted from behind.

Katie: Which is the very treatment he’s given to Katelyn Parkwood numerous times before.

Billy: Just you wait and see what kind of treatment he gives to this lady stealing slime-ball Fox Arcane NEXT.

The expression on Porno Lad’s face is one of raw emotion, for once he’s lost his cool and the Empire is to blame. He paces in anticipation of his opponent….

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

Billy: How dare Fox come into the IWC and act like he’s the ultimate womanizer. There’s only room for one Casa Nova in the IWC, and that’s Porno Lad.

Katie: Fox isn’t all bad.

Billy: Excuse me?

Steward: Just saying that he has some charm.

Billy: I refuse to believe what I’m hearing. If Porno Lad heard you talk this way he’d blow a gasket.

Katie: Well, the sound of my voice has inspired plenty of men to blow in the past.

Fox continues making his way to the ring, turning his back to the squared circle and gesturing to himself with both thumbs to the delight of the female fans. That’s when Porno Lad takes advantage of his showmanship, attacking him from behind on the ramp.

Mayne: That’s right, get him Porno Lad, get him! Teach that knock off a lesson in respect. You don’t kill another man’s game.

Fox is twisted around by the back of the neck and then thrown ribs first into the steel barrier. He falls against it for support as the aggressive prankster drills him to the mid-section with boot after boot. Finally he grabs Arcane by the arm and whips him towards the exposed turnbuckle post. Fox isn’t about to go down so easy though, he shifts momentum by reversing the whip.

Instead its Porno lad who goes charging into the steel post. The crowd cheers as he almost cracks face first against it only to catch himself before he has a chance to drill the steel. A cocky grin comes to his face as he backs up right into a dropkick between his shoulder blades. The collision sends Porno Lad charging into the turnbuckle and bouncing off of it skull first. He twirls to the mats clutching at his skull.

Katie: Oh great, now Porno Lad is going to be as hideous as the majority of the IWC roster.

Billy: Impossible, no matter how much Fox tries to beat him with an ugly stick.

Fox reaches his feet after the dropkick and throws his arms up into the air, rallying the fans behind him. He then swaggers towards a female fan in the audience, leaning against the barrier and chatting it up with her.

Mayne: Such disrespect. If anybody is going to flirt with the ladies at ringside it’s Porno Lad. Fox is doing nothing more than stealing his shtick and it makes me want to vomit.

Katie: Not me, but that’s only because I vomit after big meals.

Fox continues to explain to the attractive lass that he’s “main eventing” when a reinvigorated Porno Lad comes rushing towards his backside. Arcane turns just in time to catch Porno Lad with a drop toe hold that sends him sailing chin first into the barricade. His jaw bounces from steel yet again and he tumbles to his back.

Billy: No, that could have done even more damage to his face.

The very quick and cunning Arcane steps back and takes a snapshot of Porno Lad propped spine first against the barricade. He pantomimes operating a camera in his hands and after clicking the photo he rushes forward and delivers a front dropkick. Porno Lad’s ribs are sandwiched between the feet of his opponent and the unforgiving steel of the barricade.

Billy: The audacity of Fox, acting like he’s taking a photo of Porno Lad before he attacks him.

Steward: Outrageous. Everyone knows that the only reason cameras are built is to capture my effulgent, radiant beauty.

Porno Lad’s ribs and spine are killing him at this point as Fox drags him up to his feet and rolls him into the ring under the cables. Arcane hops to the apron and winks to the fan once again before slipping through the ropes. He is straddling the middle cable when Porno Lad rushes in and delivers a swift kick to the rope, launching it upward into his opponent’s testicles.

Mayne: Hahahahaha. Right in the money maker.

Katie: It’s times like these I’m thankful I wasn’t born with testicles, unlike Michelle Blacker.

A battered Porno Lad falls into a turnbuckle for support, watching as Arcane rolls around clutching at his family jewels. Referee Princeton is calling for the bell to start the match which may be over within seconds. Porno Lad drops down on top of Fox and hooks both of his legs for the pinfall.

1

2

Arcane kicks out despite the injury plaguing his lower extremities. A flabbergasted Porno Lad sits up and grinds his teeth in anger. It takes him a moment to overcome his anger before he stands up, pulls Arcane down to his back and leaps into the air, dropping knee first directly into his face.

Arcane rolls away, clutching at his skull and awkwardly blinking his eyes, momentarily forgetting the anguish in his testicle region. Porno Lad gives him a cruel reminder by raising Fox’s legs into the air and then dropping leg first across his crotch. As soon as PL rolls away from his roaring opponent, Princeton jumps in his face yet again bashing him for a low blow.

Katie: Get out of his face ref. The Five Star Society need not obey your pointless rules, we’re above them.

The nagging pain in his crotch leaves Porno Lad susceptible to the stomps of his opponent, and there are many. Porno Lad is trying his best to incapacitate the young Arcane, moving counter clockwise with stomp after stomp to his body. After bludgeoning him with his boots Porno Lad forces Fox to his feet by the back of the head and charges him across the ring.

Arcane’s face is driven into the top turnbuckle pad, causing him to spin around with both arms falling over the top rope. He’s in perfect position for Porno Lad who comes charging in and delivering a shoulder block directly to the ribs of his opponent.

Billy: Porny Porn is really working him over now and teaching this kid a lesson about respect.

Porno Lad takes the wrist of the battered Arcane and whips him off across the ring into the opposite turnbuckle with the all strength he can muster. Fox turns and hits the corner hard spine first, arms once again falling over the top ropes and supporting his traumatized body.

This time Porno Lad rushes across the ring and leaps into the air, hitting his opposition with a stinger style splash. Somehow Fox remains standing as Porno Lad grips him by the wrist and whips him off into the diagonal turnbuckle. Once again Arcane’s body hits the corner with bone jarring force, and if it weren’t for the crease of his elbow hooking the top rope he would surely crumble to the canvas.

A huge smile has formed on Porno Lad’s face at this point, getting out some of his frustrations. He turns towards the very woman that Arcane was flirting with a few moments ago and winks in her direction. His focus then returns to the wounded Fox before getting a big running start. He barrels across the canvas and lunges into the air for a flying forearm smash.

This time Fox won’t be victimized though, lifting his feet into the air and driving them into the ribs of an airborne prankster. Porno Lad collapses to the canvas, grabbing at his mid-section, convalescing his wounded mid-section.

Billy: NO! Dammit to all hell and back.

Katie: Oh well, if Porno Lad loses, at least it was to someone handsome. I mean if the guy were repulsive, like say Axl Evermore, then there might be a problem.

Billy: That’s right, because Porno Lad doesn’t loose to ugly people.

Katie: Yes, he may bone a couple, but he doesn’t lose to them.

Although his gut may be killing him Porno Lad refuses to back down. He charges at Arcane once again and this time gets caught around the neck. Fox drops back and hits a downward spiral that plants Porno Lad’s face directly into the middle rope.

His skull bounces off of the turnbuckle and he rises to his feet, flailing his arms in an attempt to remain upright. He staggers backwards, looking highly disorientated when Fox leaps out of the turnbuckle and cracks him in the face with a jumping heel kick. The Phoenix kick connects and the Jack of All Trades has Porno Lad down on the canvas.

The Original Prankster holds his chin and his mouth, which may have been busted by that brutal blow. Nevertheless he begins rolling to his side, trying to once again reach his feet.

Before he could even start to stand Fox gets up and delivers the Abra Kadabra. The fancy break dancing leg drop connects and leaves Porno Lad gasping for air.

Mayne: Damn him, Arcane should just lay down for Porno Lad already, he’s only making matters worse on himself.

Steward: I agree, although I don’t mind seeing these two wrestle longer. The longer they fight the more they sweat, and that’s when my interest peeks.

The leg drop may have been effective but Porno Lad isn’t giving his opponent a chance to capitalize on it. He rolls across the canvas gripping at his throat before he ultimately reaches the far ropes. Just as he starts to stand up, still hunched forward, Arcane steps in and delivers a straight kick to his chest.

The punt like kick causes Porno Lad to stand up straight and fall spine first against the ropes for support. He reaches for his possibly cracked sternum before Arcane takes him by the wrist and whips him off across the ring. Porno Lad turns and reverses the whip however, instead pulling Fox towards him and then elevating him into the air. He drops down and raises a knee, planting Fox groin first right on top of it.

Arcane leaps back, grabbing at his crotch and grinding his teeth through the pain, hobbling between both feet. All the while his sneaky opponent stands in front of him and then gets a running start by charging into the ropes. Porno Lad ricochets from the cables and comes back towards his opponent, looking to take advantage of his prone state. Unfortunately for the prankster, he had underestimated Arcane’s ability to recuperate in a hurry. Fox leaps into the air and catches the inbound Porno Lad right under the jaw with a dropkick.

Billy: AAHHH, not again.

Porno Lad tumbles to the canvas and Arcane falls beside him for nursing his aching crotch then calling into the lateral press. The excited fans watch as the official makes his count.

1

2

Porno Lad’s shoulder leaps from the canvas well before the third slap could occur.

Mayne: That’s right Fox, your going to have to do more than that to put Porno Lad away.

Katie: Fox is looking more and more like a skunk in this match. Why do I suddenly feel dirty for saying that? Oh, that’s right, because it was so generic.

Fox continues to exploit his speed and his agility. He leaps to his feet, lunges over Porno Lad, springs to the middle rope and flips back in order to hit a moonsault. The incredibly sly Porno Lad rolls out from under his opponent before the move could connect, causing Arcane to change things up, instead landing straight on his feet.

The mischievous prankster rises to his feet and lunges at Arcane with a lariat that is ducked by his speedy opponent. Porno Lad spins around just as Fox springs off of the middle rope and back flips into yet another moonsault that connects this time directly to his opposition’s shoulder.

Billy: Aaaaaaahhh!

Arcane comes down on top of Porno Lad as he hits the canvas spine first. It’s at this point that Fox grabs the leg of the former N.H.B Champion, going for the pinfall and the victory.

1

2

Porno Lad shoots a shoulder from the canvas.

Billy: Oh thank God.

A startled Porno Lad turns to his knees and tries to crawl away from his opponent. Fox continues to be the aggressor though, not allowing PL to get far before he’s snatched by the hair and dragged up to his feet. Arcane quickly takes him by the back of the head and rushes across the ring before leaping into the air. Although he was intent on delivering a one handed face buster, Porno Lad had plans of his own, and they involved derailing Fox’s. He wedges his hands to Arcane’s back and shoves him off, sending Fox flying into a turnbuckle which he connects against crotch first.

He lands with legs split on the middle rope, sitting upon it and aching from his favorite part of his anatomy.

Katie: Why does he act like doing the splits is painful. I can do that with ease.

Billy: Really, care to show me?

Steward: Um, how about no, you sick freak. Now stop laying on the floor and get back in your chair.

Billy: Awww.

Fox remains crotched over the ropes as Porno Lad rushes in behind him, leaps into the air and dropkicks him directly between the shoulder blades. The pain in his lower extremities only increases after the impact from behind. Porno Lad lunges to his feet and leaps into the air, catching him by the shoulders and pulling Arcane down out of the turnbuckle into a back stabber. Both knees connect directly to Fox’s spine as his mangled body rolls across the canvas.

Billy: Oh-ho-ho, what a move by Porno Lad. He’s just won the match, it’s over, it’s finito. It’s as finished as Clarisa Flockhart’s career.

Katie: Good, I was sick and tired of seeing her fat ass on my television.

Fox is in perfect position for Porno Lad, who scrambles into the cover, wedging his forearm to the face of his possibly vanquished foe.

1

2

Fox’s shoulder escapes the canvas seconds before the match could end. He rolls away from Porno Lad who stands behind him and delivers a straight kick to his skull. The collision sends Arcane rolling away from his opposition, only to have his leg grabbed and to be dragged back towards the center of the ring. Once positioned in the middle of the squared circle Fox’s lower body is once again targeted this time in the form of a falling headbunt connecting straight to his baby maker.

Katie: I think Porno Lad is getting more familiar with Fox’s crotch than half the ladies on the east coast.

Arcane sits up with his face twisted by the pain emanating from his testicles. All the while his adversary stands before him, arms thrown up into the air and pointing out over the women the audience.

Porno Lad: You ladies still want him now that he’s HALF a man?

The fans and the official lambaste Porno Lad who could care less what their reaction may be. He turns his focus back to Arcane who is seated on the canvas, cupping his privates. Porno Lad quickly rushes in and delivers a straight kick to his face, the strike knocking the young Arcane back to his spine.

Porno Lad steps past him and onto the middle rope, leaning over it as he points to his chest and boasts.

Porno Lad: I’m the REEEEAAAL man around here.

His voice is drowned out by heckles, prompting him to get his head back into the match. He approaches a wounded yet mobile Arcane, who is crawling across the canvas, one hand wedged to canvas the other protecting the most important part of his body. Porno Lad has the audacity at this point to begin slapping the back of his adversary’s head until he grabs a handful of hair and uses it to drag him up.

The confident, charismatic PL chuckles at the expense of his opponent before his mouth is shut by a jawbreaker. Fox leaps from the canvas, catches his opponent around the neck and pulls him down into a jaw shattering move. Porno Lad bounces off of the skull of his opponent and goes staggering backwards into the ropes.

He ricochets off and then stumbles into a flapjack from Arcane.

Billy: Nooo, get in there and do something Katie.

Katie: I am doing something. Don’t you see my scowl?

As his opponent’s face careens into the canvas Fox nips up to his feet and shows some flamboyance of his own. He kicks his arms out to his sides and motions for the fans to give him some love, which they have no problem supplying. He then turns towards a now kneeling Porno Lad and delivers a straight thrust kick directly to the back of his head.

Porno Lad collapses and then rolls to his back where he’s quickly pinned by the Jack of All Trades.

1

2

Mayne: Nyooooo!

The hand comes down for the third slap only for Porno Lad’s shoulder to evade the canvas in the nick of time.

Billy: Oh thank goodness, I almost wet myself. Ummm, actually I think I did.

Katie: Why oh why hasn’t the IWC supplied us with bed pans yet?

Arcane holds up three fingers in the direction of the official then sighs and turns his focus back to the crawling Porno Lad. He utilizes the cables to reach his feet and slowly turn around when Fox comes charging in. Porno lad has the wherewithal to bend forward though and catch him with a back drop over the ropes.

Arcane is sent sailing yet he transitions, grabbing the top rope and landing feet first on the apron. Porno Lad spins around just as he’s clocked to the jaw and sent staggering towards the center of the ring.

Fox then flips forward over the top rope and lands with his legs right across the shoulders of his opponent. He releases the cables and twists, sending Porno Lad flying face first into the second rope of the turnbuckle. He bonks his head against the corner and then twists, falling to his seat.

Billy: Why is this happening? Have we been sucked into an alternate dimension where Fox actually has talent and Porno Lad has lost his wrestling abilities?

Katie: Well it’s good to know that I’m still gorgeous in whatever universe we may inhabit.

Mayne: That you are Goddess, that you are.

With Porno Lad seated spine first against the turnbuckle, Fox gets a running start and extends his leg, going for a giant kick. However, Porno Lad rolls out of the way at the last second, causing Fox’s leg to travel through the ropes and almost crotch himself. He begins to retract his leg and bring it back through the ropes when his other ankle is picked and shot into the air.

Porno Lad throws his leg over the perpendicular middle rope, causing Fox to do the splits between both cables, spine pressed to the corner.

The official is screaming as Porno Lad but he could care less what verbal reprimands he’s being given. He steps back and gets a running start before delivering a straight punt directly to Fox’s crotch. The crowd winces as Fox’s jaw drops from the agony flowing through his genitalia.

Billy: I think he just turned Fox’s outy into an iny.

The ref has no other alternative but to call for the bell, officially disqualifying Porno Lad due to the intentional low blow being delivered.

Mayne: What the hell is this referee thinking? He can’t do that.

Katie: These uppity Zebra looking idiots have crossed the line one too many times already. It’s getting out of hand.

Porno Lad conveys the very opinion of the commentators, threatening the uptight referee Wright until he finally bails from the ring to protect himself. In the process he leaves an injured Arcane behind, rubbing at his aching gonads. He has no time to recover before Porno Lad rushes in and nails a boot to his temple, taking him down to the canvas.

Mayne: Yeah, teach that punk some respect Porno Lad, tutor him in the art of the beat-down.

All the Egyptian Gods in the world can’t save Fox at this point as Porno Lad grabs his arm and rolls out of the ring. He steps towards the turnbuckle and wraps Arcane’s arm around the steel post. He then twists it an ungodly angle, applying a key lock around the steel.

Katie: That looks painful, even more painful than watching an AWOL promo.

Porno Lad applies as much pressure as possible on Arcane’s arm, doing unspeakable amounts of damage.

Mayne: He’s not only teaching Arcane a lesson, he’s taking him to school Goddess.

Fox’s roars of pain are amplified by the house speakers, everyone listening to him bellow in anguish. The screams entice a more primal, more aggressive side of Porno Lad to come out. Ethan torques the arm until it snaps around the post in the keylock, a move taught to him by the very man he injured last week in Hurse. The screaming fans beg Porno Lad to stop but he isn’t listening.

Billy: Fox will never steal some poon away from Porno Lad again, I think it’s safe to say that he’s learned his lesson.

Official Wright works up the courage to intervene, grabbing Porno Lad’s arms and finally forcing him to break the hold. Ethan steps back and glares at the ref who takes off running to evade the prankster’s wrath. The distraction allows Arcane to roll to the center of the ring, holding his very banged up arm and shoulder. Bruising can be seen forming under the skin, relaying just how brutal that key lock around the post truly was.

The abnormally intense Porno Lad backs away from the ring, admiring his handiwork before turning to face the female fan in the front row. The very lady who was smitten with Arcane earlier, now faces overtures from a different suitor. Porno Lad winks in her direction, reaches over the barricade, takes her hand and places a kiss on the back of her fingers.

All the while Official Wright is in the ring checking on Fox’s condition and holding his good arm into the air to acknowledge his win.

Billy: What a phenomenal, PHENOMENAL performance by Porno Lad. It’s so great I can’t possibly quit talking about just how PHENOMENAL it was.

Katie: We get it, you can keep kissing ass later though. The longer you sit here blabbing, the longer I’ll have to stay out here with you.

Mayne: Oh you know you enjoy it. Listening to my commentary is like a symphony to the ears.

Fox sits up in the ring cradling his arm across his chest and mumbling some obscenities in the direction of a celebrating Porno Lad.

UNSPORTSMANLIKE CONDUCT

A stooped forward Rich grips at his skull, seated on the edge of a crate. His temples are soothed by his fingers, the digits rotating across his flesh. The Real Deal is in so much it even hurts to open his eyes.

Axl: Ummmmmm…..

Jon is jarred from his solitude, finally opening his eyes to look up into his partner’s face. What he sees is Axl, arms thrust out to his sides and body sighing to relieve the tension.

Axl: Where’d ya go bro?

For a few moments Rich struggles to answer, but realizes he has no explanation.

Jon: I was abducted by aliens?

Sadly that was his best response, given all the unexplained lost time. Jon has no other earthly scapegoat.

Evermore: You left me twisting in the wind out there. One moment you’re in the ring about to be decapitated by that evil Ronald McDonald and Grimace, and then you pull a David Copperfield out of your rectum and vanish. What gives? Have you taken up witchcraft? Because I really, really can’t stand Wiccans. I can’t even watch Bed-knobs and Broomsticks without getting queasy.

Rich: Believe me, I’d know if I had spontaneously taken up sorcery.

Axl: Then how about you give an explanation that doesn’t sound like it was dreamt up during an opium binder.

Rich: Fine.

Although his brain may be pounding against the walls of his skull, it still had the common sense to piece two and two together.

Jon: I can only assume that Zero had a hand in this.

Axl: Yeah, him and whatever stooge he paid off to tinker with the light switch.

Rich: Hmmm, do you really think all the lighting is operated by a single switch? That sounds kind of negligent.

Evermore: Jon, PLEASE, they don’t even have fire exits in this building, and the sprinklers have a harder time tinkling than my partner Max.

Jon: Yeah, well, like I was saying, I think Zero was behind it.

Axl: Well, then you should know what I’m going to ask next.

Rich: I don’t know why? Does the guy make any sense to you?

Evermore shrugs.

Jon: Exactly. All we can do is be thankful that he saved my handsome head. Speaking of which….

Both legs support him but his head doesn’t tolerate the sudden change in elevation. He employs Axl’s shoulder to keep himself propped up.

Rich: I’m going to pay him a visit….

Evermore: Just how hard were you hit in the head out there?

Jon: Pretty hard, but I’m just as hard headed.

Axl: Yeah, I could tell during that whole Desolation, Jon Rich fiasco.

Rich: Why thank you. I love being reminded of that staple in my eye.

Evermore: Yes, I’m good at reminding me of past traumas. Don’t even get me started on your childhood.

Jon: Yeah, let’s avoid that. Anyway, I’m sorry I disappeared on you, wasn’t my choice. Hope you understand.

Another shrug.

Axl: Meh’, it happens. People are randomly abducted around here every week, it’s just one of the risk that you run working here.

Jon nods and slaps his palm into Evermore’s.

Rich: It was a blast to team with you tonight….

Evermore: Let’s do that again, soon.

Jon: Guaranteed.

A slight grin forms on Axl’s face, although he fully intends on suing Jon for copyright infringement.

Rich: Well, I’m off to thank Zero. Assuming of course that I can even find him.

Axl: Someone really needs to stick a honing devise up his ass.

The handshake is broken and both men go on their way, taking contrasting routes through the corridor. As Jon steps forward he stops cold, a groan being heard followed by Pat Evans.

Pat: Jon, Jon, Jon, I really thought you were smarter than this. Did I just hear you correctly? Are you really about to “thank” Zero? And for what exactly? A random power outage? Who’s to say that Zero was even responsible for your miraculous salvation? Anyone could have saved you when the lights went out.

Jon: Like who?

Pat: I don’t know, the list is endless. It could have been the Phantom of the Opera, or Swamp Thing for all we know.

Rich: And you?

Evans: Yeeeaaah, who says I wasn’t the one who chose to spare you?

Jon: And why exactly would you do that?

With cross arms and an increasingly hostile tone Jon interrogates the nosey lecturer.

Pat: Because I’m a humanitarian…

Rich: HA!

Evans: Yeah, I even had trouble saying it.

Evans’ head lowers, briefly before picking up where he left off before the interruption.

Evans: Maybe I just didn’t want to see your career go down the drain?

Jon: Is that why you’re stalking me? Listen, I don’t care what you think Evans. I saw what kind of guy you are, I saw what you did to your own partner in our match earlier. You have no right to lecture me or anybody about alliances and loyalty.

Pat: Is that so?

Rich: Sad but true, considering you had so much potential. People were finally starting to trust you Pat.

Evans: Did I ask for acceptance? Did I cry and weep for forgiveness? I’m not searching for repentance, Jon. I don’t care what people think, I don’t drop to my knees and kiss everyone’s ass for “sportsmanship,” and “honor.” I do what it takes, I hurt who I can, I remove obstacles by whatever means necessary when the opportunity presents itself. That’s the only way your ever going to climb the ladder around here, kid. If it doesn’t make you the most popular person in the world, so be it. You might break a few hearts in the long run but so be it. If your not ready to seize an advantage, if you can’t stomach breaking a few rules and ending one or two careers, then you have absolutely no business lacing up your boots, Jon.

Jon: All you’re doing is cheapening it, Pat. Some of us can actually get the job done with skill rather than screw jobs and betrayals. Until you finally start respecting your opponents, and the sanctity of the rules, you’ll never know the full satisfaction of a victory. You’ll never accomplish ANYTHING.

Both men have given each other food for thought that is slowly being nibbled on and taste tested.

Rich: So go ahead and exploit your mind games and use your dirty tricks if that’s the only way you can get a “w” in your win/loss record. I on the other hand, I’ll use the gifts given by God and I’ll know TRUE success. Go on doing your thing Evans, but know I’ll be ready for it at Extinction.

The silver tongue is clinched behind Pat’s teeth, his head hanging solemnly, listening to every word. The impassioned statement actually seems to have sunken through. Jon turns to leave, no longer interested in rationalizing things for the technical assassin.

Pat: Jon, wait.

Rich doesn’t know why, maybe it was the genuine emotion in Pat’s voice, but he stops.

Evans: If you’re looking for Zero, I met with him before the show in the boiler-room. You might catch him there.

Jon is almost a little bothered by the remorseful tone of Evans, who despite his claims seems to be open to the idea of connecting with his pupils, rather than alienating himself from them.

Pat: Good luck.

Evans is off while Jon freezes, suddenly remembering his parting comments to Pat the week before.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

CONFERENCE CALL

Riggs: I can’t believe I let him slip through my fingers. I had him, I HAD HIM.

Psycho: We’ll get another crack at Cagero, don’t worry.

The sycophantic duo proceeds down a corridor, finding themselves in the midst of a conversation concerning their squandered opportunities.

Psycho: And when we do finally get our hands on Cagero, his championship, his legacy, and his body are going up in flames.

Riggs: I do like the sound of that, and I’m sure the smell of his burning flesh will be just as tantalizing.

They continue onward both in step and in thought as they near their dressing room.

Riggs: After we finish with the Cocksuckers of America, I presume our attention will turn to a certain mentor.

Psycho: Don’t you mean a FORMER mentor?

A nod from Riggs confirms it.

Psycho: Well let’s just say that when the opportunity presents itself, we won’t tense up and hesitate.

Upon referencing the incidents that transpired last week, AWOL’s double cross in which he paused on the ramp and left his former students to be mobbed, Psycho and Riggs seem to loose a little more control.

Psycho: He’ll be dealt with, Riggs, it’s just a matter of where and when.

Riggs: The suspense is killing……

Riggs stops and becomes as still as a grave. Although they’re reached their destination, Psycho turning his attention to their lockeroom door, Riggs seems fixated upon something else entirely.

Arcane: Did you see me at work out there? I was breaking necks, cashing checks, and giving the ladies a look at these pecs.

A bag of ice may be held to Fox’s testicles but nothing can cool him down. Since his debut Arcane has been positively on fire and now he’s brought the heat backstage, conversing with the oh so lovely Suzie.

Fox: Sure I could of beat Porno Lad just like that….

He snaps his fingers in front of Suzie’s disinterested face.

Fox: I totally showed Porno Lad the door and left the crowd wanting more. Speaking of getting a little something extra, how about the two of us…..

Riggs: Having a chat are we?

The X-Class Champion approaches Fox and his on again off again girlfriend. To show ownership Riggs takes Suzie by the wrist and pulls her in a little closer.

Fox: Yeah, so relax Mr. Melodrama…..

As the conversation continues, becoming tenser by the second, Psycho opens the door to the lockeroom and steps inside. He leaves Riggs behind, having no interest in involving himself in any further drama. What he wants and what he gets are two entirely different things however. The moment he steps into his lockeroom and flicks on the light-switch he realizes that there is no escape from the tension or the drama.

His eyes pinpoint and examine the slightly scorched table fragments that have been nailed to the wall of his lockeroom. They are arranged side by side with each chunk featuring a different word. The very weapon he was sent crashing through last week is now used to relay a very important message.

“Looking for a Good Time ….meet me in the parking lot…..Yours Truly, AWOL.”

Psycho’s face tenses and his skin begins to pulsate before he finally looses all inhibition. He rushes forward and rips the table fragments from the wall, tossing them to the floor and all throughout his lockeroom.

Psycho: AWWWWOOOOOLLLL!

TOO MAGNIFICENT © VS. JACKSON ADAMS

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

“You think you know me?”

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

“You don’t know shit!”

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

“I’ve seen the world through your eyes”

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

“IT MAKES ME SICK!!!!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want to rule the fucking world?”

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

“You’ve gotta get through ME!”

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

“Your iron fist will be broken…”

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

No soul to sell…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Billy: Well Katie, I hope you enjoy seeing men hit each other with garbage cans.

Katie: Sounds thrilling.

Mayne: We’re going to get a lot of in this match. Too Magnificent headed for the squared circle, set to defend his N.H.B Title against a member of the Empire.

Katie: Actually, it might be entertaining to watch a member of the Empire be bludgeoned with a trashcan.

Billy: My sentiments exactly.

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

The lights dim as black lights illuminate the arena, Jackson Adams then steps out onto the ramp with major mixed reactions from the crowd. Billy Mayne follows along excitedly from behind, holding up the Submission Title with both hands.

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

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

Jackson just strolls down the ramp with an arrogant cocky grin on his face, he walks up the ramp and along the edge of the ring, he stops and wipes his boots in a cocky like manor on the ring apron before pausing to eye Hurse. He then glances back at Billy who is protecting the Submission title with his life.

Mayne: To think that at one time I actually respected this man.

Steward: Don’t you mean stalked?

Mayne: Okay, if you want to get technical. Now I see him for what he is, a born looser, a never was and never will be. I can’t wait to see him try to out wrestle Too Magnificent under hardcore rules, as if that’s even possible.

The Magnificent One’s penetrating gaze is focused on the not so easily intimidated Adams. As the bell chimes in the background the two men begin to circle one another, Jackson searching for a quick method to apply a submission and Too Magnificent thinking of a quick way to make his opponent bleed.

Billy: Why don’t the two just dance and get it over with already?

Katie: Oh hush Billy, I doubt either one of them has ever learned how to dance. I can’t imagine that any woman would teach them.

Mayne: True, the closest Too Magnificent has ever come to dancing is mimicking Michael Jackson’s choreography from the video Thriller in his parent’s living room.

Katie: Ahhh, there’s nothing quite as refreshing as childhood trauma.

Billy: Childhood? Too Magnificent was doing this last week.

Finally the two step to the center of the ring and Too Magnificent actually locks up with Adams instead of throwing a punch. Perhaps TM has succumb to his pride, and wants to prove to his opponent that he’s more than just a trashcan flailing psychopath, that he actually does possess some wrestling know how.

Jackson doesn’t give him that opportunity, instead he swings around under Too Magnificent’s arm and steps behind his back. He slips around his opposition and traps his neck in the side headlock.

Too Magnificent quickly wedges a hand to Adams’ spine and pushes him off though, sending him charging into the cables. He bounces off and comes back in at Too Magnificent who launches a boot up into the air. However, Adams drops into a baseball slide to avoid said boot, catching Too Magnificent’s planted ankle in the process.

His foot is ripped right out from under him and he goes tumbling forward as a result. He hits the canvas face first while Jackson ducks into a forward roll and ends up at his side, locking both arms around the Champion’s neck.

Billy: Yawn, hand me that TV Guide, Katie. Let’s see what other channels we can get with our monitors.

Katie: No. I’m reading this fascinating article about David Schwimmer. Did you know that he was made out of all the left over pieces that went into making the rest of the Friend’s cast?

Mayne: Interesting.

Inside of the ring two clashing styles continue to be displayed with Adams wearing down the hardcore behemoth with the time tested side headlock submission. Too Mag doesn’t stay grounded for long, planting a knee beneath him and then forcing his giant frame to his feet. Jackson wrenches pugnaciously at the neck, trying to twist until it pops off like the cork to a bottle of fine liquor. Too Magnificent shows that he ages just as well, finding a crafty escape to the hold relying specifically on his raw strength.

He stands up straight and hoists Jackson to his shoulder before tossing him off across the ring. Adams flies through the air but eventually lands on his feet. He plants himself and spins around just as Too Magnificent charges in and lays the Submission Champion out with a big running shoulder block.

Mayne: Ouch, that may have burst one of Jackson’s pec implants.

Katie: He’s got pec implants and yet he’s still that puny? I’ve seen thicker arms on a stick figure drawing.

Adams lays on h is back looking up at the lights which are blotted out by Too Magnificent. The big man leans over him and grins before lifting his foot into the air and going for a big stomp. However, Jackson rolls out of harm’s way, avoiding the boot and getting to his knees a few inches away.

Too Magnificent grins in the direction of the Submission Champion, realizing that he came within inches of delivering the first pivotal blow of this contest. Jackson finally stands up, hands on his knees, hunched forward in anticipation of what his opponent will do next.

He doesn’t have to wait very long as Too Magnificent continues to make a statement, stepping forward and interlocking arms with his opponent. The two jockey for positioning until Too Magnificent surprises his challenger by swinging around into the arm ringer, applying it with all his strength.

Billy: Good Too Magnificent, now tear that twig off and beat Jackson to death with it.

Jackson is hunched over, arm twisted at a very nagging angle. The last thing he wanted has come true, Too Magnificent is building confidence in his technical approach. That confidence is shattered with one quick, fluid maneuver from Adams however. He turns, slaps down at the hands of Too Magnificent, batting them away from his wrist then twists around under one of his opponent’s arms and tucks it around behind his back into the hammerlock.

Too Magnificent attempts to reverse the maneuver by bending forward only to have Adams break his own hold and transition into another side headlock. Too Magnificent drops to a knee as Adams stands over him, really putting all his strength into the submission, knowing that if he can get the Champion out of breath it will be that much easier to wear him out and eventually pick up the win.

Mayne: Another hold? How many side headlocks are we going to see in one match? There should be a limit.

Katie: I agree. I also think there should be a limit on the amount of time Too Monstrous’ face is on camera. The fact that I’m doing commentary is drawing in a HUGE number of new viewers, you don’t want to scare them off with that mug.

Billy: I think my return to the commentary table is drawing in new viewers too.

Katie: Yes, I’m sure your NAMBLA brethren are watching, Billy.

Jackson still has his bigger opponent grounded but not for long. He promptly rises to his feet and attempts to jettison the challenger into the cables. Jackson rushes into the ropes, ricochets from them, comes back in and is met with an attempted back drop.

Too Magnificent doubles over in anticipation of catching his opponent’s knees and sending him airborne. However, Jackson, and his quick wit, allows him to leap over Too Magnificent’s back, catch him around the waist and pull him down into a sunset flip. Returning referee Wright slips into position and makes the count.

1

Too Magnificent rolls backwards out of the hold and gets to his knees before Jackson stands up in front of him and once again establishes a side headlock.

The crowd claps, showing their appreciation at the sight of Jackson’s well versed submission based offense. Too Magnificent isn’t as appreciative however. He stands up, wraps both arms around Jackson’s waist in the process then falls back, delivering a back drop driver that plants Adams right on top of his head and neck. He flips over to his seat, looking almost comatose after the landing.

Mayne: Hahahaha, that’s one way to break the submission baby, by breaking Jackson’s neck.

Katie: It was quite lovely. And never call me baby again. You may refer to me only as Goddess, understood.

Billy: Yes Kati…..

Steward: Nyeh, nyeh, nyeh….

Mayne: Oh, sorry Goddess.

Katie: That’s better. Now kiss my outstretched pinkie finger.

Billy: I thought you’d never ask.

Jackson rolls around in the ring holding the back of his neck thanks to the extreme physical trauma of having been dumped right on top of it. All the while Too Magnificent rolls out of the ring, fed up with this whole technical wrestling crap. He drops to the outside mats, throws the tarp hanging from the apron into the air and then reaches under the squared circle.

A chair is removed then tossed into the ring, before a Singapore cane is then extracted, finding its way into the squared circle as well. A trashcan, Too Magnificent’s sentimental favorite, also rolls in under the ropes and is followed by several serving trays and cooking sheets.

Billy: It’s a regular Home Depot under the ring. Not that I go to Home Depot when I need repairs, I just hire some filthy transient.

Katie: For home repairs, or just to strangle him?

Too Magnificent slides into the ring and grabs the serving tray, lifting it high above his head and cracking it over Jackson’s lower back. Adams bellows in agony, arching his spine and scooting across his knees on the canvas.

Mayne: Yeah! Do it again, do it again!

The serving tray meets Jackson’s upper back this time, knocking him to all fours. Too Magnificent now tosses the dented up steel aside and approaches the trashcan, his weapon of choice, a weapon that has never steered him wrong before. He lifts the steel above his head and begins to approach a kneeling Adams before Jackson lunges forward, driving the top of his head directly into the big man’s mid-section.

Too Magnificent stumbles but regains his footing and again lifts the trashcan up into the air. Jackson now delivers a right hand to the gut, followed by another, and another, until finally the big man is doubled over with the trashcan still held in both hands. Jackson quickly stands up, and delivers a European Uppercut to the jaw of the Magnificent one, sending him spiraling into the cables.

He falls against them spine first and then tosses the trashcan straight to his opponent. Jackson catches the steel in front of his face right as Too Magnificent throws a punch that connects and as thus drives the trashcan directly into his challenger’s skull.

Adams collapses to the canvas, grabbing at his nose and his mouth, which may be busted by the force of the impact.

Katie: Too Hideous just punched his trashcan, do I detect a lover’s quarrel?

Jackson is dropped to the canvas, holding his face while Too Magnificent leaps in for the pin, hooking both legs in the process.

1

This time Adams is able to free his shoulder from the ring and prevent a near defeat.

Mayne: Yeah, keep hanging in there Jackson, not like it matters.

Too Magnificent takes his ever so precious trashcan and employs it in a much different fashion this time. He slides it over an unconscious Jackson’s upper body, trapping it within the circular confines of the steel. He then backs up and snatches one of the serving trays off of the canvas. Within seconds the tray is swung into the trashcan, caving it in around the body of the spectacular one.

The dented serving tray is then thrown aside and Too Magnificent gets a running start before ultimately stomping down with as much force as possible across the trashcan. The steel is driven forcefully into the face of Adams, his legs kicking up into the air as a result.

Too Magnificent then throws himself down on top of the can and hooks Jackson’s leg in the process.

Billy: Yes, it’s over now, FINALLY!

The referee’s hand slaps the canvas in anticipation of declaring a winner.

1

2

The trashcan twists out from under Too Magnificent, letting the ref and the crowd know that Jackson has gotten a shoulder up.

Katie: This isn’t over yet? Well here’s hoping that at the very least Patch Adams keeps wearing that trashcan over his face.

Billy: I hate to give the devil his due, but Jackson was dominating this match when it was strictly submission based, but now that Too Magnificent is in his element, he’s in control.

Too Magnificent looks rather peeved that Jackson refuses to stay down, prompting him to reach his feet and approach the nearest turnbuckle. With Jackson’s upper body still trapped inside of the can he’s blind to the fact that Too Magnificent is ascending higher and higher, reaching the very top rope.

The crowd cringes in anticipation of Too Magnificent taking flight, all it involves now is balancing himself out on the top rope before he can dive through the air. This second of hesitation proves costly, Too Mag taking his eyes off of his opponent who is already on his feet, stumbling and staggering around with his head still stuck in the trashcan.

By mere happenstance Jackson ends up staggering straight into Too Magnificent, driving the top of the trashcan well below the belt of the champion. Too Magnificent’s eyes widen and he reaches for his testicles, having forgotten his protective cup.

Mayne: Leave it to Adams to attack another man’s groin.

Katie: I’m sure you taught him how.

The blow to his baby maker has Too Magnificent seated on the turnbuckle, huffing and puffing as he cups his family jewels. Jackson comes inadvertently stumbling towards Too Magnificent once again only this time he staggers right into a boot to the skull, presumably. A dent is left in the surface of the trashcan yet again, causing Jackson to go shambling backwards to the center of the ring. Somehow he remains upright, body still obscured by the steel wrapped around him.

He is entirely unaware that Too Magnificent is now standing up on the second rope and interlocking his hands, diving into the air for a double axehandle. Somehow Jackson’s extra sensory perception kicks in because he lunges into the air, throwing himself into Too Magnificent’s ribcage, driving the trashcan into his belly.

Too Magnificent is swatted out of the air and knocked to the canvas, gripping at his mid-section while Jackson spins in circles, still trying to free himself from the trashcan. Finally he leans forward and he avails himself of his constraints. His eyes are glassy after the impact and his legs are wobbly but he is still standing, well, at least long enough to dive into the cover.

Wright drops into position and makes the count.

1

2

Too Magnificent’s arm launches from the ring and saves his title.

Billy: What a shock, Jackson coming close but then he fails!

Jackson rolls away from Too Magnificent and slowly approaches the trashcan. He positions it in the center of the ring before taking the curly locks of his adversary’s hair and using them to drag his tired body to his feet. Too Magnificent is only up for a moment before he’s drilled to the jaw with a vicious right, followed by another and another. Jackson determined to debilitate him before delivering a boot to his ribs, doubling him over where he can hook both arms.

Adams looks towards the well positioned trashcan and now sets for his modified Angel’s Wings into the diamond cutter. He heaves Too Magnificent up but his back gives out thanks to those shots from the serving tray earlier. This causes him to drop Too Magnificent back to his feet who then swings out of the angels wings, turns to face Jackson and catches him by the throat.

Jackson’s eyes widen as he’s hoisted into the air for the chokeslam.

Billy: Yes, Too Magnificent is going to finish off Adams the same way that he finished off AWOL last week.

As Jackson’s life flashes before his eyes he suddenly makes his move, squirming out of Too Magnificent’s palm and then dropping behind his back. The disgruntled Champion turns around just as Jackson snatches a chair off the canvas and swings the upper edge directly into his opponent’s ribs. Too Magnificent doubles over, growling in pain then turning away from his challenger. With back exposed Too Magnificent is easy pickings, Jackson grabbing his arms, swinging him around and then dropping him face first into the trashcan with an unprettier.

Mayne: Unprettier.

Katie: Wow, can Too Disgusting actually look any worse?

Billy: He could if his name was AWOL.

Steward: Good point.

Jackson forces Too Magnificent over onto his back and crawls into the lateral press once again, hooking a leg for another quick pin attempt.

1

2

Too Magnificent not only kicks out but powers Jackson off of him. Adams goes airborne and lands on his feet, looking stunned that his move was kicked out of by the raw powerhouse that is the N.H.B Champion. Too Magnificent now rolls to his knees, trying to get up while Jackson grabs the dented up trashcan, throwing it with all the strength he can muster.

The can connects with Too Magnificent’s skull, threatening to knock him over yet somehow he remains upright. This prompts the Submission Champion to find another weapon, this time pulling the chair from the canvas and then pitching it into the catcher’s mitt/face of his adversary.

Steward: How barbaric. This is exactly why you don’t see a Goddess like me competing amongst swine like these peasants on a weekly basis. I’m too dignified to step into an IWC ring.

Billy: But aren’t you competing as part of the Five Star Society at Extinction? Doesn’t that go against your principles.

Katie: Billy, Billy, Billy, principles don’t matter when your offered a dumpster full of cash.

Mayne: They put it in a dumpster?

Somehow even after the chair creamed his skull Too Magnificent remains kneeling on the canvas, swaying from side to side. His eyes flicker on the point of fading into full unconsciousness. Now Jackson picks up a steel trashcan lid and tosses it, then a Singapore cane, then a serving tray. Much like Lucas Black bombarding Dwight Yoakam with anything he can get his hands on, Jackson keeps throwing weapon after weapon at his kneeling opponent.

All the steel thuds off of Too Magnificent’s skull yet to the surprise of everyone in the building, the big barbaric behemoth remains on both knees. His eyes may be glossed over and drool may seep from the corner of his mouth but Too Magnificent remains upright just long enough for his opponent to loose his cool.

Jackson picks up the steel trashcan lid and a serving tray then goes to town. He swings one after the other into both sides of Too Magnificent’s skull, shaking and rattling the brain within. A slight dribble of blood oozes from the crack in his scalp but the champion continues to take the punishment.

Billy: I think Too Magnificent has no brain whatsoever, because he obviously can’t feel pain.

Katie: So he not only doesn’t have looks but no brains either? I bet the only girlfriends he lands are in coma wings.

Jackson tosses the mangled steel aside and then approaches the Singapore cane, lifting it once again from the canvas. Now he employs everything he’s got, every bit of strength, every drip of adrenaline to rush forward and swing the cane only to be caught straight to the abdomen with a huge spear. Too Magnificent leaps from his knees and his shoulder engulfs Jackson’s ribs, knocking him down forcefully to the canvas.

Adams rolls away from his opponent clutching at his wounded, possibly imploded ribs while Too Magnificent is strewn across his back, unable to capitalize.

Mayne: I just love this violence.

Katie: I abhor it, but this time it proves beneficial to me. The more Too Repulsive mangles Jacky Robinson the easier this Empire crony will be to defeat at the pay-per-view.

Too Magnificent is bludgeoned but stirring on the canvas. As he rolls to his side the pain from the numerous shots he’s taken begins to set in, leaving him very fatigued. Jackson has rolled to the outside of the ring to give himself some distance from his brutish opponent, kneeling on the mats and convalescing.

It doesn’t take long for Too Magnificent to go rolling out of the ring right behind him. He drops to the mats and then grabs Jackson by the chin, pulling him up to his feet and then taking him by the knee as well. Although it hurts him to do so Too Magnificent gorilla presses Jackson above his head and begins carrying him towards the ring and throwing him over the top rope.

As Adams flies over the uppermost cable he catches hold of it then lands on the canvas, still gripping the rope. To the shock of Too Magnificent, Jackson leaps right back out of the ring and landing on top of him with a crossbody that takes both men down to the mats.

Billy: Yaaaaay, JA getting offensive, and for once it’s not because of his B.O.

Steward: I’ve smelt gym socks left in a hamper for three months that weren’t as rank as John Adams.

Adams drags the prone, unstable, aching frame of Too Magnificent into the air, kicks him to the gut and takes him by the wrist before shooting him off into the barricade. The big man has much different plans though, instead he reverses the whip and sends the challenging hurdling into the barricade.

Just before his body could be wrapped in steel, Jackson LEAPS into the air, flying over the barrier and landing amongst the fans in the stands. They step out of the way, allowing Adams to drop to his feet between them, then turn around just in time to spot a shocked Too Magnificent.

The Champion follows his prey and attempts to get both hands on him only for Jackson to leap to the top of the barrier and then fly off. To the shock of everyone he lands right on top of Too Magnificent’s shoulders, going for a hurricarana. Too Magnificent has another plan though, he turns, rushes forward and throws Adams into a powerbomb that sends the champion flying spine first into a turnbuckle post.

Billy: OOOOOH YAY!

Katie: Somebody had better come out and clean the turnbuckle post now. It’s got a little Action Jackson on it.

Mayne: Powerbomb into the turnbuckle, count him out, put a fork in him, he’s done, he’s gravy….

Steward: We get it, stop speaking, your voice offends my ears.

A convulsing Adams lays on the mats, trying feebly to recover after one of the most sickening powerbombs he’s ever received and the fans have ever seen. Once again Too Magnificent finds himself in such a state of disrepair that he is incapable of capitalizing on the fruits of his labor.

He crawls forward, grabs Jackson’s ankle, drags him to his back and then hooks both legs. The official drops to the mats while slapping them, making the three count.

1

2

Jackson’s shoulder flies from the mats just moments before his title aspirations could go up in flame.

Billy: NO! I was just about to start gloating and everything.

There may be internal bleeding and bruising lining Jackson’s back but he still has some fight left in him. The only thing Too Magnificent is interested in, is beating that fight out of him, what little may remain. Jackson has just rolled to his side, eyes flickering as he tries to remember where he is and why boots are drilling him to the abdomen.

Too Magnificent pulls him up to his feet by the roots of his hair, charges him at the announce table and throws him over it. Jackson slips across the top of the announce table as if it were a water slide, slipping off the end of it and then crashing with a thud across the outside mats.

Katie: Great. Now I can’t touch the announce table all night. Someone get some sanitizer already.

The fans are cringing at the sight of Jackson strewn across the mats, barely cognizant of the fact that he’s even still competing in a match here tonight. Too Magnificent approaches him, scooping Jackson up under the arm and leading him to his feet. He then rushes forward and actually picks Adams up into the air, sending him flipping forward and thudding against the mats kidneys and lunges first.

Billy: Now he’s hip-tossed-hahahahaha-he’s hiptossed him onto the mats. This is just, it’s just awesome.

Katie: I couldn’t be any happier, not even if Zack Morris and A.C Slater made the Goddess an indecent proposal involving me representing the meat.

Comeau: I think the best you could hope for is Dustin Diamond.

Katie: How dare ye besmirch your Goddess.

Jackson, enflamed back and all starts to reach his feet just as Too Magnificent catches him with a goozle across the throat. Adams’ eyes widen and the crowd screams in exasperation. They cover their eyes just in time to keep from watching their cherished superstar hoisted into the air for a gruesome chokeslam.

Adams has other ideas though, which he shows by gouging his opponent’s eye with his thumb. The nail connects against pupil, causing Too Magnificent to drop his ever so diabolical challenger. Jackson tries to catch himself but can’t help tripping backwards and rolling across the mats before finally falling into the steps.

He uses the stairs to lead himself to his feet but then falls over them, landing on the opposite side.

Mayne: Well although he took away another opportunity to gloat, Jackson still looks to be in horrible shape. I love it, he can’t even stand up.

Katie: He had better get use to lying on his back. That’s a position he’ll be in at Extinction, and afterwards too. I imagine we’re going to beat him so badly, that he’ll have to turn to prostitution in order to find work.

Although momentarily blinded Too Magnificent pushes past the pain, his eye maybe red but he has no intention of giving Jackson a reprieve. Adams gives himself a time out, by rushing at the stairs and dropkicking them just in time to send the top half flying straight into the shin of Too Magnificent.

The big man stops walking and starts tripping forward, careening into the mats which he SMACKS with a violent thud.

Billy: Damn you Adams, damn you right to hell you son of a whore!

The timely move leaves Too Magnificent gripping at his now worn knee and possibly fractured ankle, as well as the gash on his forehead. A little more blood comes trickling on out and forming a small ravine on his face. He just starts to get up, utilizing the upper half of the steel steps as a makeshift crutch.

He puts pressure on his ankle, beginning to believe he can overcome any injury, any adversity for the sake of retaining his title. Dreams don’t often come true, at least not for the majority. Jackson demonstrates this by demolishing Too Magnificent’s idealized perception of invincibility, catching him with a famouser that drives the Champion’s face straight into the steel of the stairs.

Katie: They had better ban that move at Extinction or I’m out. Seriously, I’m not going to jeopardize THIS face in an IWC ring.

Billy: I swear I’m gonna strangle Adams with my own two hands. That’s the only way to stop this.

The thud of skull to steel leaves the fans aghast. Their breathless at the sight of the unconscious Too Magnificent, prone to the elements. The destructive element on this occasion is the challenger, who grabs the steel steps and once again employs them as a weapon.

They are dragged right on top of Too Magnificent’s chest and left positioned there while Adams retrieves next tool, a steel chair. One of the fans willingly dispense with their seat so that he can brag to his friends later that he had a hand in the ensuing chaos. He lives to regret his momentary bliss when he sees Jackson swing the chair into the stairs.

Mayne: HEY! Disqualify him or I will.

The chair is swung again, cracking the steps and driving them further into Too Magnificent’s body beneath. Chair shot after chair shot hits the steps and possibly cripples Too Magnificent before they are pushed aside. Jackson tosses the chair to the mats and drops down right alongside it. He hooks Too Magnificent’s legs, the fans all but assured that a title change is imminent.

1

2

NOOOOO!

Mayne: HA-HA!

Steward: You do a horrible Nelson impersonation.

Billy: I just can’t help myself, Goddess.

Katie: Let’s just hope that “suck” isn’t contagious.

The fans are just as unwilling as Adams to believe that a title did not change hands even after such brutality. In a despondent state Jackson grabs the chair and wedges it directly to his opponent’s heart. Upon setting the weapon in position he heads to the ring, reaching under to grab the mangled trashcan. He heads to the apron, lurking above his intended prey.

Billy: What ultra stupid thing is he going to do now?

Katie: No telling, but I’m just going to guess that he’ll light fire crackers in his own anus.

The crowd clues in to what Jackson is about to do even if Adams refuses to believe that it’s come to this. He finally casts all inhibitions aside, rushing across the apron and diving off with an elbow drop into the chair while the trashcan was positioned under his arm.

Billy: OUCHIE!

Too Magnificent’s body writhes and trembles under his opponent and all the mutilating steel. The crowd may be cutting loose with a “holy shit” chant after Jackson’s “Foley-esque” dive but it’s of no solace to the banged up champion. Jackson hooks his leg once again, going for his very first double championship title reign.

1

2

Mayne: No, no, no, NOOOO!

The hand comes down to the mats for the third straight time only to have Too Magnificent’s shoulder clear the mats. Wright informs Jackson it was just a two count, leaving the Challenger vacant of thought and devoid of emotion.

Mayne: Woo-hoo!

Katie: I would have crippled Too Shitty by now.

Jackson tries to snap out of his daze, his brain trying to tell him repeatedly that the match isn’t over, but his body refuses to respond. Finally it takes the screaming fans to jar him back into action. Jackson rises to his feet and takes Too Magnificent’s wavy hair into hand.

Billy: Where is he taking the champion?

Too Magnificent crawls along behind Jackson, tugged by his hair up the ramp. Once their both standing on nothing but unforgiving steel Jackson puts his plan into action. He drags Too Magnificent up to his feet and takes him around the neck, setting up for his patented flipping Rock Bottom, intent to deliver the match ending move on the rampway.

Too Magnificent isn’t about to go down so easily though, which he demonstrates via a knee to the ribcage. All of Jackson’s plans go out the window the moment he is doubled over, head being dragged under the seat of his opponent. The last gesture any wrestler wants to see made by their opponent is employed by Too Magnificent, the classic slitting of thumb across throat. Too Magnificent makes the taunt then hoists Jackson up onto his shoulders, stepping even further onto the ramp as he sets for yet another running powerbomb.

Mayne: Yes, yes, yes, finish him, FINISH HIM!

Katie: You know this isn’t Mortal Kombat right?

The crowd squeals, realizing that Jackson’s very career is about to be ended by one of the most dangerous men on the IWC roster.

Billy: DO IT!

Too Magnificent is about to put an end to Jackson’s legacy only to have Adams shove his way over the broad skull of the champion and land directly on his feet. He turns around, hooks both of Too Magnificent’s arms and spins him around, once again going for the unprettier, about to reintroduce his opponent’s face to the steel.

Before Too Magnificent could taste the barricade he responded with a classic counter, sticking his head under Jackson’s seat and freeing his arms in the process. Too Magnificent stands up with Jackson loaded on top of his shoulders and then falls back into an electric chair drop.

Shockwaves reverberate through the steel ramp and through Jackson’s pain engulfed body. He bows his spine from the ramp, which took most of the punishment on that stiff landing.

Mayne: It’s over, it’s fiiiinally over.

Katie: Stop jinxing us. In fact, just stop talking entirely.

Billy: I will, as long as I get to gloat in about three seconds.

Too Magnificent crawls into the cover, believing that he’s done enough to walk away with yet another title defense. The ref’s hand confirms his belief.

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Actually, scratch that, Jackson has proven Too Magnificent wrong by throwing an arm into the air.

Mayne: Son of a….

Steward: I told you, you jinxed us you smelly little skid-mark you.

Billy: How is this still going?

Too Magnificent is driven by the will to walk away STILL champion, prompting him to reach his feet and take Jackson by one of his own. He lifts up on the foot and sends Adams rolling over backwards, planting his heels to the steel. He’s only fully erect for seconds before a kick to the ribs doubles him over and places him in the dreaded front chancery, only a prelude to the Midas Touch.

A demonic gleam inhabits the eyes of the sadist as he prepares to put away yet another challenge for his title. That’s when his legs are swept out from under him and he’s dropped to his back, Jackson putting his leg right through Too Magnificent’s.

Billy: Not this, pllllleeeasse God strike Jackson with a meteor or something. Just don’t let him lock this in.

Jackson is moments from applying his modified sharpshooter, bending forward in the process to get it locked in. His lack of caution proves disastrous, hunching over just enough to be goozled by the throat. His eyes widen, beginning to gag as Too Magnificent rises to his feet in front of him, fully intent on delivering the chokeslam.

Mayne: I don’t see you smiling now Jackson.

Too Magnificent rises slowly to his feet, face twisted with intensity. Jackson gags and gasps for air as he tries to back up the ramp and avail himself of his opponent’s hand. He gets to the stage but Too Magnificent keeps palm wedged to throat. After a while he gets tired of playing with his prey, throwing Jackson’s arm behind his neck and then heaving him up into the air for the chokeslam.

Billy: YEEEESSS!

Somehow, someway, Jackson escapes in mid-air, catches Too Magnificent around the neck and pulls him down into a jarring DDT on the stage.

Mayne: HOLY SHIT!

Katie: How dare you commit sacrilege in the presence of a Goddess.

A bloody Too Magnificent rolls to his back, strewn across the stage side by side with an equally as banged up Adams. For the second Riot! in a row the fans are on their feet, chiming in with a loud, Manhattan Center shaking ovation thanks to some good ole’ fashion hardcore violence.

The extent of the brutality inflicted on one another leaves Adams and Too Magnificent sprawled across steel, neither man able to do much of anything but breathe, and they even find that difficult.

Billy: Well, at the very least they’ve killed each other, which is good enough for me.

Steward: Good, the sooner they get them in body-bags the better. The stench is killing me.

Jackson shows the world that he does have some fight left. He sits up on the stage, gritting his teeth from the pain that consumes him. With Too Magnfiicent entirely incapacitated it’s just a matters of moments before Jackson takes home N.H.B gold, a nice compliment to his Submission Belt.

He stands up just and makes another gesture no wrestler wants to see from their opponent. He swipes his arms through the air, and indicates that he’s had ENOUGH of this madness. Unfortunately, madness is the only thing in his future.

He steps towards Too Magnificent’s legs and lifts them into the air, going for the very submission that finished off TWO opponents last week.

Billy: God I HATE this hold.

Jackson is about to roll Too Magnificent over when he’s caught from behind. Before he realizes what’s happening he’s charged to the edge of the barricade and thrown off. He goes flying through the air and then crashing with a nasty landing across the exposed concrete several feet below.

Katie: GOZER!

Mayne: Yes, yes, Jackson is finally…..wait…..did you just shout Gozer?

Steward: Damn you Harold Ramis!

Who does Jackson have to think for his current predicament, for lying across the concrete, bones possibly broken, muscles snapped, organs burst, none other than Christian Savior. The Cartel Champion has gotten his vengeance, now standing on the edge of the stage, leaning forward and eyeing the near lifeless Adams without a semblance of emotion.

Billy: Behold the greatest man to have ever lived, Christian Savior.

Katie: Oh yeah, about time he got some payback after Jacky Brown pulled a fast one on him earlier.

Savior shivers, both from a surge of adrenaline and a flood of emotion. It hits him all at once, putting the Rising Phoenix in a state of ecstasy. He takes just a few more precious seconds to observe the labored breaths of the Submission Champion, backing towards the curtains to miss not one moment of his handiwork. He steps past a recovering Too Magnificent, who is in such a state that he has NO idea what just happened to Jackson.

When he does look up Christian is gone and Jackson is nowhere in sight. It may hurt every inch of him but he stands and then looks over the edge of the stage where Jackson is laying across exposed concrete below.

Before the Champion even stops and thinks for one second he steps to the edge of the ramp, looks out over the crowd who are actually pleading with him not to die, then takes flight.

Mayne: WHAT!?!

With leg extended he falls right across Jackson’s throat and possibly shatters his pelvis on impact.

FANS: HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT!

Steward: Blasphemers. How dare they soil my name.

No amount of fist shaking on Katie’s behalf silences the crowd after watching Too Magnificent deliver a suicidal Arrogance is Bliss.

Billy: I knew Too Magnificent had no brains left in his head.

Too Magnificent’s bottom may be busted but he still has the power to crawl into the lateral press, hooking Jackson’s leg in the process. The referee slips into position, making the count to the screams of a sold out audience.

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The hand slaps the pavement for a third time, signifying the end of what was yet another BRUTAL N.H.B Title bout.

Mayne: And he retains. By the grace of God, or should I say, by the grace of a Savior, Too Magnificent emerges victorious from this war.

Katie: Now we can only hope that Jackson has been seriously injured after that fall from the stage.

Billy: Yes indeed, I’ve already started praying.

Despite the many bruises and bumps he’s developed as a result of this grueling match Too Magnificent still has the power to rise to his knees and raise his fist aloft. The official finally forks over the N.H.B Title which is outstretched between two hands and lifted towards the heavens. Jackson remains sprawled across the concrete trying to recover but looking badly injured after that nasty tumble.

Mayne: I hate to say it, but that was a far more competitive match then I thought it would be. Yet Too Magnificent leaves here tonight with the gold still around his waist, if it can fit around his waist that is.

Katie: It might need a bit of an extension.

The final image before the commercial break is that of Too Magnificent raising the gold as high as his traumatized body will permit.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Coming to DVD

AFTER THE DUST

Riot! returns with a still featuring Jackson Adams and Too Magnificent battling on top of the stage in a grueling, gutsy war for the N.H.B Championship.

Billy: We’re back ladies and gentlemen, or more accurately your just tuning in after you heard from friends that Katie and I were commentating tonight.

Katie: You’re aware you’re talking about the IWC fanbase correct? The only friends they have are bottles and pills.

Billy: Oh yeah, forgot about that. Anyway right before the break we were watching a SO-SO title match, when we beheld a gift from the angels above.

Steward: I think Christian should get a restraining order against you.

The video goes live, showing Adams planting Too Magnificent’s skull with melon bursting force into the steel stage. With the big psychotic giant sprawled helplessly across his back the challenger goes in for the kill. Unfortunately Adams cannot complete what he has in store for the champion, considering he’s sent for a flight. Despite all the desperate arm flapping Jackson cannot slow his descent into the concrete. Christian stands back with a gratified expression on his face, watching the man he may have just crippled.

Billy: In what may be the funniest IWC moment of all times, Jackson Adams was THROWN off of the stage and may have shattered every bone when he struck the cement. Disney couldn’t have produced anything more magical.

Katie: And Too Redundant didn’t make matters any easier for Adams, although he really lightened my work load at the pay-per-view.

The following clips pertain to Too Magnificent’s suicidal leap from the stage into the leg drop across the helpless throat of Adams.

Billy: Too Magnificent punctuating the match with a leg drop that may have shattered his pelvic bone in the process. The guy might be stupid but he got the job done.

Steward: And this is what happened in the time during your piss break. Sadly I don’t think half of you left the couch for said piss break.

DURING THE BREAK is written across the corner of the screen as images of EMTs assisting Jackson to his feet are caught from a variety of angles. Jackson’s arms rests over the shoulders of several concerned officials and medics, who at the very least can take comfort in knowing that Adams still has the ability to walk. They won’t know the full extent of his injuries until they’ve gotten him to the hospital, prompting them to rush their injured patient to the ambulance backstage.

Billy: Jackson had to have his handheld and be given a lollipop before he’d go the hospital and have his wee lil booboos looked at.

Katie: As if he couldn’t walk that off. All these Empire guys are so fragile. They’re like a box of glass. They take the slightest bump and their totally shattered.

Billy: Long story short, the EMTs took out the garbage but it was the Five Star Society who swept up the trash.

The camera cuts live to the trainer’s room at this point where Jackson Adams finds himself seated on a cot.

Mayne: And as you can see doctors are still attending to that piece of human slime, Jackson Adams. I really hope it’s the HMO brand of doctors.

Katie: I’m pretty sure that’s all this company has afford.

An EMT approaches Adams with some medical tape only to have his hands swatted away.

Adams: Back off!

Another medic tries to give him an injection for his pain only to have the syringe slapped out of his fingers.

Jackson: I said to leave me ALONE!

The EMTs obey their patient’s demands, standing back and letting him sit on the cot in agony. The pain seems to be fueling the Submission Champion, who crouches and grips his injured ribs with both hands. A fire can be seen behind his eyes, one that will threaten to scorch the earth.

A HELPING HAND

Although drenched with sweat and aching from every muscle and bone, Too Magnificent has more than enough strength to give an interview. His throat muscles are never tired no matter how overworked his voice-box may be.

Michelle: Michelle Blacker standing by with the N.H.B Champion….what a sexy, sexy match Too Mag, care to comment?

Michelle looks very hot and bothered as she stands next to Too Magnificent and the big screen television positioned behind her back. It flashes the IWC initials repeatedly, as if the fans needed any more reminding.

Too Magnificent: I can always stand to do a little talking, Michelle. I have as much fun verbally tearing people apart as I do physically. And that’s exactly what you saw from me tonight.

Blacker: Oh yes, it was glorious. True must see TV if you ask me. I think I may have actually orgasmed.

Too Magnificent: I’ve had that effect on plenty of women, and like you I didn’t even have to touch them before they reached their peak. But enough about bitches, I want to talk about one in particular, Jackson Adams. I have to give my hat off to the man, just like AWOL he took me to my absolute physical limit out there. I’ll probably be shitting blood for the next two months, but it was worth it, it was alllllll fucking worth it. Because I still got this….

He raises the N.H.B Title into the air and slaps the golden plate before throwing it over his shoulder. He would normally succumb to the unbearable weight but right now he’s all jacked up on adrenaline, it’s the only reason he’s able to keep standing.

Michelle: Jackson really gave you a thrashing out there huh?

Too Magnificent: He gave just as good as he got, Michelle. But if he wants another opportunity I’ll gladly give a little more. I’m a very charitable man and Jackson looks like a good charity case.

AWOL: Very appropriate topic.

The crowd tenses just as Michelle does when AWOL steps into the interview area and comes nose to nose with an equally as psychotic competitor. The Tag Team Title on the Big Crazy Bastard’s shoulder clashes with Too Magnificent’s gold, just like their personalities.

AWOL: How apropos of you to be discussing charity. You seem to be getting a lot of that lately.

The deep, brooding breaths of the N.H.B Champion show that he’s not taking kindly to such insinuations. Any insinuations that would tarnish his hard fought win.

Too Magnificent: What are you driving at AWOL?

AWOL: Ohhh nothing. Although, now that you do bring it up, it seems kind of odd, it just…..no, no, I shouldn’t say it.

Too Magnificent: SAY IT and then be on your way before I loose my mother fucking cool.

AWOL:…..Okay, I find it just a tad suspicious that all your success lately has come thanks to the Five Star Society.

Too Magnificent: You’re going to play that FUCKING card? Are you? You just can’t handle the fact that I beat you, that the mighty AWOL couldn’t handle me.

AWOL: No, I couldn’t HANDLE 50 thousand watts surging through my body.

Too Magnificent takes a very deep breath, trying to compose himself although it be so much funner to fly off the handle.

AWOL: Porno Lad saved you last week, and Christian Savior saves you tonight. If I can be a hypocrite for a second, I find that just a little bit “convenient.” If I’m going to be accused of being some type of double agent, then I have the right to point a finger at you as well.

Too Magnificent: So you admit it, huh? You admit that you’re in league with Psycho and Riggs. Finally, confirmation.

AWOL: Go on and deflect, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re the guilty party, Too Magnificent, that you’re the saboteur, the spy. You and Simon, the MILF Fuckers of whateverandever…..are playing us for patsies, trying to get every focused on my “relationship” with my former pupils, instead of seeing what’s right in front of their faces. It’s so simple a two year old with the IQ of Katelyn Buehler could figure out your strategy. Just confess Too Magnificent, the evidence is already stacked up against you. Everyone can see the writing on the wall. You wouldn’t even have that title if it weren’t for this conspiracy….

Too Magnificent: ENOUGH!

Too Magnificent’s body trembles as he stares into the eyes of a man he’s likened to his arch rivals.

Too Magnificent: I may have just shortened my fucking career in that match, but I have no problem fighting you tonight.

AWOL: Are you implying that you wish to face me? Didn’t you learn your lesson the first time? This isn’t a road you want to go down again.

Too Magnificent: That’s exactly what I’m IMPLYING. I already took out Jackson Adams, I’ll have no problem taking you out too.

AWOL: Wonderful.

A grin cuts from one earlobe to the other.

AWOL: If you really want to prove your not guilty of the very crime I’m being punished for, then meet me alone in the parking lot TONIGHT.

Now the unsettling grin is mirrored by Too Magnificent’s face.

Too Magnificent: I’ve been waiting a loooooong motherfucking time to end you AWOL. I was only just getting started last week.

AWOL: Well then, I look forward to seeing how far we take it after my match…..

Can you hear me? Are you listening?

AWOL’s eyes dart around the room, looking for the source of the voice. Finally, like a gnat, his focus is drawn to the big screen monitor that was repetitiously flashing the company logo. Now in its place resides the face of Christian Savior. With Cartel Title flung over shoulder and the screaming fans surrounding him, one can deduce that the feed is coming from the ring.

Christian: Helllloooo McFllllllyyy…

Too Magnificent stares at the screen and snarls.

Christian: Do I have your attention AWOL? Maybe I should get the production crew to show that great clip of me tossing Adams off the stage a few more times? Or how about they replay me spiking Hurse right on his head and cracking his puny neck? Would that get your attention AWOL?

Instead of a snarl AWOL responds with a smile, as if he would lose sleep over the injuries inflicted on his associates.

Savior: Listen here Big Goofy Bastard, I’m on a role, I’m injuring your partners left and right. I’m taking them out faster than the Swine Flu. So I’m not going to sit around and squander my good fortune and motivation. Why don’t you get your boring ass out here now and take your punishment while I’m still fired up? It’s good to get it over with quickly rather than putting it off to the last second. The longer you make me wait, the more I’m going to hurt you.

AWOL shakes his head, actually pitying the Rising Phoenix, for he know not the severity of his errors. With Savior continuing to blather on from the ring, AWOL adjusts his elbow pad and goes to shut him up. He finds himself halted by the palm wedged to his sternum. When the eyes of Too Magnificent and AWOL connect it almost creates a level five tornado of sheer rage and hostility.

Too Magnificent: I’ll be seeing you in just a few minutes.

AWOL: You can count on it.

The hand is swiped away from his chest as AWOL once again prepares to leave.

Christian: I don’t know how you got your weekend pass, AWOL, but I’m going to be putting your ass right back in that cozy retirement home. We’ve been embarrassing you guys mentally, verbally, and physically all night long…..

AWOL’s foot finally shuts Savior’s mouth, or at least he silences the onscreen version of him. A sideways thrust kick connects with the monitor and shatters the screen into thousands of little shards that collapse to the concrete. AWOL nonchalantly moseys down the corridor, leaving behind some sparking wires that hang from the ruined monitor.

Michelle: You know your going to have to pay for that.

She boldly proclaims this while peeing around Too Magnificent’s broad shoulder. AWOL doesn’t even look back to acknowledge her.

AWOL: They can bill me.

CHRISTIAN SAVIOR VS. AWOL

Christian: The Empire reunion is going to be short lived AWOL.

Christian saw what happened backstage by watching the Cartel-Tron but it doesn’t shut him up, nothing will keep his lips from flapping until AWOL shows up and answers his challenge. He paces through the ring in anticipation of a match the fans have been waiting all night to see, waiting for confirmation that he’s caught AWOL on his hook.

Savior: It’s going to be even briefer than your last World Title reign.

An “oooooh” is registered from the crowd. They share in the knowledge that Savior is about to eat each and every word as well as several ounces of his own blood, and possibly a few shattered teeth.

Billy: Hahahahahaha, hahahahaha, hahahahaha, hahahaha, HAHAHA!

Katie: For God sakes, ENOUGH! I can’t stand the canned laugher.

Mayne: Was it too over the top?

Katie: It was worse than an Elton Jon jacket.

Billy: I just can’t help myself, Christian is on fire.

Katie: Hopefully he won’t literally be on fire after this human freakshow comes out here.

Christian goes on berating AWOL, in denial of the public execution he’s setting himself up for. He digs deeper and deeper, making sure he won’t be left in a shallow grave.

Christian: No, I’ll tell you what it was shorter than, AWOL, the Empire’s return will be shorter lived than your MARRIAGE.

The crowd is stunned that Christian would go there, that he would tippy toe around the edge of an abyss of molten magma.

Savior: We’ve run rough shot over you idiots all night long and we’ll give an encore performance at Extinction. We’re not intimidated by…..

YOU BETTA GO AWAY!

Although the opening cords to this entrance music would normally be enough to see a man’s heart leaping into his throat, Christian merely quiets and shockingly forms a grin. He tries to obscure it from the man who strolls to the entry way, the Big Crazy Bastard himself. He starts down the stairs with his head still shaking, knowing that after tonight he’ll have to make room for another body in his basement.

Billy: Uhhh, I hate to sound like a doubting Tom here.

Katie: You sound more like Dustin Diamond.

Mayne:….I just hope Christian has thought this out. AWOL isn’t the type of guy you play games with.

Moore: How dare you doubt the Five Star Society, minion. I hope you know that after the show you’ll be on jockstrap duty now.

Mayne: Will I get hold of your undergarments as well?

Susie: Consider a lawsuit pending.

The microphone slips from Christian’s hand and hits the canvas before he interlocks his fingers and cracks them. AWOL smirks, realizing that his opponent will have plenty of time to hear his bones cracking. He climbs up onto the apron and the fans go nuts, finally about to witness a member of the Empire give the Five Star Society their justly deserved punishment. Christian remains resolute in the ring, not backing down even as the Mongolians press at his walls.

AWOL shows no more emotion once he slips into the ring, ready to give Christian what he’s earned via a night of sophomoric pranks. However, the second his foot hits the canvas Christian’s spine dissolves and he bails from the ring.

Mayne: Yeah, brilliant strategy, make AWOL chase you. That same strategy kept me alive in high school.

The giant skull of AWOL rocks from side to side, regretting even coming out here. He should have known that his opponent would stoop to this, given Christian’s long history of running from a fight and picking his spots wisely.

AWOL: Are you really going to make me chase you?

With a sigh the Tag Team Champion resolves himself to the fact that Christian isn’t willingly going to re-enter the ring. He begins to stretch one of his legs in anticipation of a long run when what should he spot from the corner of his eye, an intruding Miho Miyazaki.

She/he is on her feet but taken down within seconds thanks to an AWOL bionic elbow. Her face implodes when the elbow strikes it and her body collapses to the canvas at the feet of the Big Crazy Bastard.

Billy: Ah-ha, this was Christian’s plan and might I just say that it’s brilliant. Way better than that whole Trojan horse thing.

Katie: I told you ye of little faith.

Christian crouches beside the ring, watching as his associates attempt to outnumber and eventually overcome AWOL. Now it’s Paris Dannon attempting to blindside AWOL but a knife edge chop to the sternum sends her scrambling into the ropes before eventually spilling through them. Miho is back on her feet and charging in when AWOL catches the tranny to the throat and knee, hoisting he/she high above his head. Miyazaki squirms, trying to free herself before he’s pitched over the rope and sent crashing face first into the thin protective mats outside the ring.

AWOL has just taken her out before Christian reveals his true strategy, catching him to the back of the skull with a steel pipe.

Steward: How wonderful. Although, I’m not sure it was smart to go after the head, I don’t think AWOL has anything inside of it that can be injured.

Billy: Christian lured him into the trap and now he’s going to tear AWOL to pieces. I love it almost as much as I love myself.

AWOL is down on the canvas gripping at his possibly cracked skull while Christian begins unloading on him with stomp after stomp. The prone Big Crazy Bastard feebly attempts to protect himself against this onslaught, yet his defense seems quite ineffective.

Billy: He’s gonna mangle him, he’s going to mutilate him, he’s going to tear him a new asshole.

Katie: Hmmm, I should have known Christian was into that type of thing.

AWOL utilizes the ropes to pull himself up, trying to recover from that unexpected blow to the head. Christian steps over his back and digs his fingers into the face of his rival, gouging at the eyes and the nostrils, fish hooking every orifice that he can get a hold of.

Official Stuart Wright finally shows up, slips into the ring and calls for the bell to start this match. Sadly he showed up two seconds too late to stop this bout the second that Christian connected with that steel pipe. He does however, leap into action and insist that Savior stop his cheating ways.

A five count commences before Christian breaks away from the fish hooking, steps back with palms raised and a smile lurking on his face. The moment the official steps aside, Christian leaps at the prone AWOL, grabs his arm and applies a modified top wrist lock around the middle cable. AWOL groans in pain as Savior wrenches back on the arm at a truly gruesome angle.

Mayne: Looks like another member of the Empire is about to bite the dust ladies and gentlemen.

Christian really wrenches on the arm until it threatens to snap. Official Wright has started a five count, reaching four until Savior finally breaks the hold, not tempting a disqualification. He then lunges into the air and comes down knee first directly into the back of AWOL’s head, driving his throat into the middle rope with all of Savior’s weight coming down onto him.

The Big Crazy Bastard rolls to the center of the ring, holding his throat which has to feel like its closing up at this point. His airway is further constricted the moment he reaches his feet and is nailed with a lariat to the jugular. Christian waited with great anticipation to deliver the throat crushing blow and now that it’s been delivered he confidently crawls into the lateral press.

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AWOL’s shoulder lunges from the canvas, not falling prey to his opponent quite so easily. Despite the many lacerations and bruises that still cover his body from that grueling N.H.B Title bout several weeks ago, injuries further compounded by the shot from the steel pipe, AWOL is still hanging in there. He rolls away from Christian who then steps over his upper back, wrapping his arms around the neck of the Crazy Bastard.

AWOL tries to crawl despite having Christian mounted over his kidneys, doubled over into the submission that denies blood flow and oxygen to the brain.

Billy: This is just brilliant, brilliant strategy. It’s so brilliant it hurts my brain just thinking of how brilliant it actually is.

Katie: If you repeat the word brilliant one more time, and your not using it as an adjective to describe me, then my nails will be inserted to your eyes.

Billy: Noted.

Christian is locked on to AWOL like a suction cup to a window. The hold seems to be doing the trick, the usually pale flesh of the Tag Team Champion changing pigmentation. It is now a bright blue hue that is quickly settling into a red shade.

Mayne: Pass out AWOL, give it over with already. Fat men like you enjoy sleeping.

AWOL almost goes down but catches himself by wedging his palms to the canvas. A frustrated Christian breaks the hold and delivers several clubbing blows to the back of the head and neck, the very area he targeted with the steel pipe. He then bends forward and establishes the rear naked choke once again.

Christian: Come oooooon, TAP!

The tighter the hold is clamped on the more fight AWOL imbues his weary muscles with. He rises to his knees, forcing Christian to step off of his back and stand behind him, crouching down into the hold. After all the Five Star Society has done to the Empire tonight, AWOL is determined to escape this submission. He wedges one foot to the canvas and begins to stand up only to drop right back down, hooking Christian’s elbow in the process and flipping him over with a modified arm drag.

Savior rolls across the canvas and gets right back to his feet. He rushes at AWOL who stands up just in time to catch Christian with a big back drop suplex. Unfortunately for the Big Crazy Bastard, the Cartel Champion had the move scouted. He turns his back to AWOL, falls spine to spine and as his opponent stands up Christian is sent into a back flip where he lands right on his feet.

Savior continues backwards into the ropes, bouncing off and ricocheting towards AWOL who turns just in time to deliver a spinning powerslam.

Mayne: YOUCH! Damnit AWOL. Can’t you just take a beating like a good sport?

AWOL kneels on the canvas, trying to shake off the blow from that steel pipe that finds itself resting in one of the corners presently. Christian rolls away from his monstrous opponent, reaching for his possibly popped kidneys in the process. He eventually reaches his feet and comes staggering towards AWOL who stands to greet him with some vicious open hand palm strikes.

One slap after another drills Christian to both cheeks, rattling his brain around inside of his head. Despite these brain jarring blows Savior remains standing, at least until he’s nailed with a soccer style shin kick straight to the sternum. Savior collapses to the canvas then pops back up to his seat only to be hit with another kick to the chest. He collapses to his back and AWOL falls into the lateral press, forearm wedged to face to further disrespect his opponent.

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Christian’s shoulder escapes the canvas before the third slap could connect.

Katie: How nice of Christian, he’s going to keep giving AWOL a wrestling lesson. Something tells me this Big Weird Bozo is going to need a lot of preparation if he hopes to beat us two Sundays from now.

Billy: Hahahahaha, Big Weird Bozo, classic, absolutely classic.

Katie: Enough metaphorical ass kissing.

Mayne: I could do some literal ass kissing if you liked.

Katie: Ooooohhh how creepy you are.

With a fistful of hair AWOL drags Christian over to his knees. Savior tries to defend himself with some peppering jabs to the ribs only to have a bionic elbow drill him to the top of the head. He collapses to the canvas and tries to evade AWOL by crawling towards the steel pipe that has negligently been left in the ring. AWOL doesn’t allow Christian to get far before he leaps into the air and comes down spine first into Christian’s upper back with a senton splash.

Christian is driven down face first into the canvas and sent rolling to his back while AWOL sits up at his side. The grimacing big man drops back and hooks Savior’s leg for the three count yet again.

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2

Another kick out from Savior prolongs the match.

AWOL rolls to his feet, grabs Christian around the neck and cups his hands around the back of his head. He makes sure Savior’s face is aimed down so that he can shoot some knees straight up into the forehead and face. The blow connect with such resounding force that Savior is sent reeling into the cables, falling into them for support. AWOL follows him in and delivers a chop so vicious to the chest that it threatens to crack the sternum.

Billy: Come on ref, get your finger out of your ass and tell AWOL to stop with all these illegal strikes.

Katie: Yes, and make sure you don’t get your finger anywhere near the face of this Goddess.

AWOL retracts his hand and prepares to crack some more bones when a finger finds its way straight into his pupil. The eye gouge only momentarily stuns AWOL, who shakes it off, grabs the very hand that just assaulted his vision and uses it to Irish whip his opponent into certain doom. However, Christian reverses the whip and his fortune, twisting to face AWOL and pulling him forward into the code breaker. The Soul Survivor connects, planting the Empire member’s face directly into the raised knees. AWOL flops to his back with the crowd screaming and Christian seated on the canvas grinning. He finally slithers into the pin and hooks a leg, confident in his victory.

1

2

AWOL foils Christian’s attempt at victory once again, arm raising from the canvas seconds before a three count could be rendered.

Billy: This is gettin’ ri-God-damn-diculous. The man should know that he’s simply outmatched here tonight, just like he’ll be outmatched at Extinction.

Katie: He only has one tenth of the talent that my baby toe possesses.

Billy: And if it’s not too bold of me to say, it’s a very lovely baby toe.

Katie: I should have been able to tell that you were a pedophile.

The “AWOL” chant from the crowd does little to nothing in ways of inspiring the Big Crazy Bastard. Unlike those oh so moving sports biopics, the crowd’s response is meaningless to the protagonist, otherwise he would be leaping to his feet and winning one for the Gipper. In reality though, or the closest thing wrestling comes to reality, AWOL remains down on the canvas suffering a heinous series of stomps and forearm strikes.

Christian is so flabbergasted by AWOL’s kick out that he actually snaps, yes, with his teeth, at the official when he tries to get involved. Savior then balls up his fist and drops it directly into the face of the laid out big man. AWOL sits up, palming his possibly shattered nose while Christian takes him around the jaw and leads him up to his feet.

Once AWOL is upright he finds his waist trapped in the clutches of the Rising Phoenix, who actually overpowers his opponent by charging him spine first into a turnbuckle. AWOL’s arms fall over the top ropes and keep him on his feet, perfectly placed for Christian’s next maneuver. Savior slips through the ropes to the apron, reaches back into the ring and grabs AWOL around the jaw. He pulls back on AWOL’s head several times, driving the injured cranium repeatedly into the top turnbuckle pad.

Mayne: GENIUS. Christian banging the back of AWOL’s head into that turnbuckle over and over again. He’s shaking AWOL worse than a British nanny shakes an infant.

Katie: I’m pretty sure you can still be sued for that joke, no matter how outdated.

AWOL’s brain is slowly being transformed into apple sauce as the back of his head, the very area targeted by the steel pipe, is driven against the corner. At the behest of the official Christian releases AWOL from this mid-evil torture and allows his opponent to double over, rubbing at the welt formed on the back of his skull.

Savior only releases AWOL to set up the next stage in his plot. Christian grabs the top rope, leaps over it and transitions into mid-air to catch a stooped over AWOL around the neck, pulling him down into a thunderous DDT right on top of his skull.

Katie: That was positively tasty.

Billy: Christian as acrobatic as he is charismatic.

The stunned crowd watches their anti-hero flip forward, land on his seat and wear a very dazed expression on his face. After sitting in his incoherent state for several seconds he listlessly tumbles to his spine and Christian transitions into his next move. He reaches his feet, confirms AWOL’s position, then begins up the turnbuckle he just employed as a weapon. Now it will serve another useful function, providing a diving board in which to send him sailing into a traumatized opponent.

Steward: Let’s see if he is as multi-dimensional as I am.

Mayne: Yes, Goddess, you and Christian has as many layers as an onion.

Katie: Are you trying to imply that my scent brings people to tears?

Christian pauses on the middle rope just long enough to sneer towards the fans who repulse him so, he then proceeds onward. He climbs the corner like it were Mount Everest, his body very worn and battered by a match that has gone longer than he had expected.

The moment he gets one foot on the top rope he hears AWOL’s labored breaths from behind. Upon glancing over his shoulder his eyes detect an upright Big Crazy Bastard, who is currently stumbling and staggering as if he’s more lost than a transient zombie.

Savior leaps off of the turnbuckle and twists in mid-air, flying right over top of AWOL and sliding down his back. He catches him around the waist, dragging him down into the sunset flip to the horror of a sold out Manhattan Center crowd.

To their shock and especially to the amazement of Savior, AWOL refuses to be pulled over. He swings his arms and remains on his own two feet no matter how valiantly Christian tugs on his waist.

Mayne: Get him over, get him over. Here Katie, help me blow on AWOL.

Steward: What you do on your own time is your business, no need dragging me into it.

The crowd watches this stalemate continue until AWOL finds a move and denies Christian’s attempt at putting him his check. He reaches down, seizing hold of Christian’s throat and drags him out from hid body up into the air. The double handed goozle allows AWOL to hoist Savior into the air only for him to ultimately come down on his feet right in front of his Imperial rival.

Savior brushes his opponent’s hands from his throat and leaps into the air, going for the Soul Survivor yet again. AWOL wedges his hands to Christian’s shins and shoves him off before he could connect. As a result Christian twists around in mid-air and lands on his feet, back aimed towards a now infuriated AWOL.

The Big Crazy Bastard takes hold of Christian’s arm and his wrist, dragging it through his legs and hooking the other one. He hoists Christian up as the crowd erupts in excitement at the sight of the Daisy Cutter.

Billy: Blaaaahhh!

AWOL gets him up but can’t hold on. His butterfingers allow Christian to slip out of the pumphandle, and over his shoulder, landing right behind the Big Crazy Bastard. AWOL spins around like he were on an axis before being caught around the neck and planted with the diamond cutter.

Mayne: Yaaaayy!

Steward: Hmmm, nice to see your like everyone on this roster, seeing as you talk through nothing but grunts.

Mayne: Sorry, I’m just excited Goddess, because Savior may have just snatched victory from the jaws of defeat.

Katie: AWOL looks like the top who would hate having anything taken out of his mouth.

AWOL’s face crashes to the canvas and his body flips over, sprawled across his back. Although he may be hurting Christian still has the wherewithal to crawl into a lateral press. He hooks both legs this time hoping that the added leverage will ensure victory.

1

2

The crowd can’t stand to watch then regret not seeing AWOL kick out once again. Savior sits up, lips trembling, face twisting with anger, trying to figure out how his adversary is hanging in there despite everything he’s hit him with. His eyes instinctively turn towards his equalizer, the one weapon that he’s sure will put AWOL at an end. The steel pipe glistens in the corner, serving as a golden beacon to Christian, who finds himself drawn to it.

He steps over AWOL and stumbles towards the steel, crouching forward slowly in order to take it into his hand. He lifts it up into the air and finds himself enamored with his reflection in the steel before his solace is ruined by an unexpected school boy.

AWOL rolls Christian up but releases him so that he may roll backwards onto his feet. Christian barely has time to get his feet under him before he goes rushing at AWOL and swinging the pipe. His crafty opponent ducks it and catches Christian against his shoulders. He only stands up briefly before dropping back into the Samoan Slam.

Billy: That’s it, I’ve had more than enough of this official’s shady officiating. Clearly he’s biased towards the Empire.

Katie: So, get in there and officiate then.

Mayne: Me?

Steward: Yeeeeeaaah.

Billy: No can do, stripes make my butt look big.

Christian’s abdomen is killing him as he tries to create a little distance between he and his foe. AWOL closes in that distance by approaching his wounded opponent, taking him around the neck and dragging him to his feet. He grabs the Rising Phoenix by his throat and tosses him with all his strength back first into a turnbuckle.

Somehow Savior maintains his grasp on the steel pipe even as his spine is compressed against the corner. With dazed eyes he watches AWOL charge in and deliver a vicious clothesline to his throat. Christian’s legs cut out from under him and he collapses to his back, spine wedged to the turnbuckle.

AWOL now overlooks the fans who scream in anticipation of what’s next. AWOL is not amused in their reaction but in his own twisted plans. He wedges a foot against Christian’s face and grinds his heel across it, delivering the face wash. He then performs another face wash, doing even further damage to Savior’s pristine features.

Billy: Not this, not this, not this.

Katie: What, are they going to make us watch Men in Black II?

With his opponent thoroughly incapacitated, AWOL takes off into the far ropes, bouncing off and building a great deal of speed. He barrels straight towards Christian, who’s face he almost shatters by means of a running face wash.

Savior convulses as a result of the nasty bump intended to disfigure his face.

Steward: If his foot gets anywhere near my face at Extinction….

Billy: That’ll never happen your Goddess-ship, because Christian’s gonna make sure AWOL doesn’t get to the pay-per-view. He’s just taking a breather right now is all.

AWOL keeps his foot pressed to Christian’s face out of disrespect, almost standing on it as he slaps his fist to his sternum.

AWOL: SIMPER FI!

Fans: DO OR DIE!

After completing the taunt AWOL’s attention returns to the traumatized Savior, taking a hold of his bangs. Christian is pulled to his feet and stood with the aid of the turnbuckle. AWOL begins rocking him with body shot after body shot and a few well timed strikes to his chin.

Christian continues to stand despite taking more punches than a heavyweight fighter. AWOL eventually backs off in the hopes of getting a running start, raising his forearm and slapping it hard with his palm to choreograph his next move. The official pleads with AWOL to get Christian out of the corner only to be pie faced and sent spiraling across the canvas.

With the ref’s back turned to the action, he doesn’t see AWOL barrel at Christian for a running forearm strike only to run face first into a shot with the steel pipe. Christian gets the bar up just in time to connect to AWOL’s temple, knocking him down to the canvas like a sack of potatoes.

Mayne: Did you see that hit by Savior? That was amazing. I’ve never seen a man take down AWOL in a single punch before.

AWOL lays on the canvas with his eyes rolling to the back of his head, seemingly no fight left in him after another brain scrambling blow from the Five Star Society’s weapon of choice. Savior tosses the pipe to the outside of the ring just as the official turns to face the action. Once again he’s a second too late to help AWOL, and his sudden attentiveness only benefits Christian who drops into the lateral press.

Christian: MAKE THE COUNT!

Wright swallows his pride, falls to the canvas and slaps it for the three count.

1

2

NO!

Billy: Son of a Bushwhacker! How did he kick out again? Is he possessed by Captain Howdy or something?

Steward: If he starts fornicating with a cross I’m out of here.

The fans are almost bursting like piñatas at the sight of AWOL’s miraculous resurrection. Christian on the other hand is already setting up for his next move, the next development in his insidious plot. He rolls away from AWOL until he’s reached a corner where he now crouches in anticipation, hand gesturing upward. He’s trying to entice AWOL to stand so that he can take him right back down with the Blaze of Glory. The fans cringe at the thought of seeing the spear here tonight.

Billy: Now it’s over. All those other attempted pinfalls were mulligans, they don’t count.

Some fans encourage AWOL to get up on instinct, while the more practical spectators urge him to stay down, knowing that a spear awaits him. He doesn’t pay either side of the argument any attention, already beginning to rise to his feet. His battered skull will not keep him down any longer, AWOL refusing to be debilitated. He reaches his feet and turns just as Christian barrels across the canvas and drives shoulder first into his ribs.

AWOL’s legs cut out from under him and his body is driven into the canvas, the back of his head taking some of the punishment as a result.

Mayne: God that was beautiful.

Katie: Yes, my sneezes are lovely.

Christian takes a second to gloat, winking at the fans who bash him for his display of arrogance. He then goes to crawl into a cover when all, Savior, AWOL, Wright, the ring, the commentators, the fans are drowned in darkness.

Billy: You’ve got to be joking.

Steward: The lights are out AGAIN? How is anyone going to see me on camera at this rate?

Mayne: I thought we got this out of our system earlier tonight. Somebody uncross some wires and get the lights back on so we can see Savior pin AWOL dammit.

Unlike earlier in the evening the lights do not spring back into action, they remain dimmed. In fact, the only illumination in the arena emanates from the Cartel-tron, where some images can now be seen. A familiar voices fills the PA system.

The time is coming, Christian….

Two marionettes sway in front of a black camera, one looking like Porno Lad, the other like Christian Savior. The authentic Savior presumably watches from the ring, where it is still too dark to see even the faintest figures.

An insurrection is near….

The marionette of Savior, complete with a toy Cartel Title over it’s shoulder fades slightly while images of a torch carrying mob is superimposed over it.

The masses yearn for your end, and as the architect of your downfall I shall see to it that they’re prayers are answered….

A camera looks up from the ground at a flaming skyscraper set against a blood red sky.

For the shackles to be lifted, for reality be unwoven, for the ineluctable modality of the visible and the audible to begin your world must be destroyed Christian. The flames of your treachery and deceit must be extinguished by a true SAVIOR. I am the savior, and I am the destroyer. Alpha and omega. Death and rebirth. The death of your legacy, the rebirth of the IWC. I shall see to your unbecoming….it’s already started. There is not the length of a hair between this and that, Christian, your end will come before you can even respond to it. All the objects that give you meaning, the items of your idol worship will be taken….

The dancing marionette of Savior suddenly becomes altered, the Cartel Title vanishing from its shoulder.

Those who protect and comfort you will be removed from your side….

The Porno Lad marionette is whisked out of frame leaving Christian all by his lonesome.

And then, when your all alone, when you have nothing left to cling to, I will come, and the games will truly begin.

The Christian marionette vanishes and is replaced by another individual hanging from strings. This doll seems far more life like, in fact, his human qualities are uncanny.

You are not the romanticized hero or the villain, your just my puppet, and I decide when to pull the strings.

A string is yanked and the head of Alex Ingelson raises towards the camera, paralyzed face caked with blood, eyes wide and devoid of emotion. As soon as the camera zooms in on Alex’s fixed eye the Cartel-tron goes black. The lights return to the Manhattan Center.

Billy: What in blue blazes was that? Tell me we just didn’t hear from that resident fruit loop, Zero again.

Katie: I won’t tell you, mostly because I have no interest in discussing absolutely anything with you.

When the lights rise over the ring a confused Christian is revealed, his head shaking over the images he was just forced to endure. Clearly he is unsettled by the torture being inflicted on Ingelson, his referee for hire, but is relieved that he himself has not been caught on Zero’s strings just yet. His focus is even more thrown off the second he looks from the Cartel-tron down to his chest, where a striped shirt resides. Savior snatches hold of the blood stained referee jersey, pulling it away from his body and spotting the big red “Z” drawn across the center.

Billy: Where did that shirt just come from? Are we being haunted by a tailor?

Katie: Someone must have just put it on Christian. Someone with no taste to boot considering it totally clashes with Christian’s eyes.

Billy: Is that Alex Ingelson’s shirt?

Christian gulps when he realizes how easily Zero snuck into the ring and put the shirt on him. Before the Cartel Champion can continue quivering he’s snatched from behind and pulled back into the Daisy Cutter. AWOL connects with the finishing move that has defeated so many opponents, whether they be hall of famers or World Champions.

Mayne: HEEEEYYY!

Savior crashes into the canvas, finding himself caught completely off guard by the high impact finisher. He flops to his back and lays motionless as AWOL crawls in and takes him by the hair. Even though the Big Crazy Bastard is still suffering the ill effects of those repeated shots from the pipe, he’s able to drag Christian up to his feet and deliver a second Daisy Cutter.

Once again Christian is drilled into the ring and sent rolling to his back.

Billy: Stop it AWOL, stop it? Have you no decency?

Steward: Of course he doesn’t. Otherwise he wouldn’t have wore that hideous ring gear.

After two vicious Daisy Cutters have been delivered on a paralyzed Savior, AWOL crawls into the lateral press. Referee Wright has no idea what to make of the situation so he drops to the canvas and slaps it not once, not twice, but three times.

1

2

3

The arena erupts, the fans teeming with such excitement that they almost blow the roof off of the Manhattan Center.

Steward: That didn’t just happen.

Billy: Yes, I’m going to imagine it didn’t either.

Katie: No, I mean it didn’t happen. If I say something didn’t happen then the rules of reality should be altered to accommodate what I believe to be fact.

The excited crowd celebrates this huge win for the Empire, who have just fired another shot at the Five Star Society. The back and forth war continues between both stables, but this battle has been won by AWOL, who climbs a turnbuckle and fights to maintain his footing.

Mayne: This was nothing more than a hiccup or a burp in the plans of the Five Star Society. Every road has a few bumps, but thankfully the Five Star Society is in a car with good shocks. Despite the best efforts of the Empire, this war is not going to be taken off road.

AWOL, tired muscles, injured skull and all climbs a turnbuckle and lifts a fist into the air. The crowd is chanting his name while Savior is faced with the indignity of listening. He lies on the canvas still adorned in the tattered Ingelson jersey.

Billy: Christian obviously playing possum, I applaud his strategy, but ummm, uhhhh, he might want to stop now.

The reason for the abrupt change in Billy’s tone, transforming from one of confidence to one of fear, relates to AWOL’s demented course of action. He rolls under the ropes at this point and searches under the ring. After a few seconds of looking for just the right weapon he finally takes out into his palms. A length of barbwire cable is gripped in both hands and raised into the air. A look of sick satisfaction resides on AWOL’s face as he now slides into the ring.

Billy: Someone get out here, security….SECURITY!

Katie: Why do we even pay those idiots?

Mayne: I think their paid in foodstamps, Goddess.

With the sharpened barbs in hand AWOL slides into the ring, slowly approaching the wounded Savior. Christian is barely cognizant, unaware of the shirt still adorning his body and the barbwire that is about to clash with his apparel.

AWOL slides into the ring across his stomach, shaking off the numerous blows that he’s taken to the skull with that steel pipe. Despite all the cranial damage AWOL looks more inspired than ever to tear flesh with barbs and mangle Savior’s body until it is unrecognizable.

Billy: Where’s the rest of the Five Star Society?

Katie: I would get in there and help him but I need a few zeros added to my contract before I step in that ring again.

AWOL slowly approaches Christian, savoring and relishing each and every second that he plays with his prey. He bends forward and is on the verge of tangling his rival in razor sharp wire before the slack is pulled up between his legs and the barbs dig into his crotch. The fans go ballistic at the sight of Robin Brooks occupying the ring, knelt behind AWOL and pulling up on the barbwire.

Billy: Thank God for the gift that is Robin Brooks.

Katie: She does come in awfully handy. And she just got HANDY with the HANDI-capped AWOL.

Billy: I love your use of words, but I love the mouth they come from even more.

Steward: You are officially creepier than Axl Evermore’s teeth.

The inconvenient blow sends AWOL to his knees, both hands gripping at his genitals, tearing the barbwire out of his testicles. Robin keeps tugging up and up on the barbwire, digging it even further into her rival’s crotch.

Mayne: She’s castrating AWOL.

Katie: Thank God. The thought of anymore little AWOL’s roaming the earth terrifies me.

AWOL pulls the wire out of his crotch as the pregnant Brooks boldly steps towards him. She bends forward in order to take his head into her arms when AWOL punches her straight to the lips with a barbwire wrapped fist.

Billy: HOW SICK! You DEPRAVED bastard, how dare you punch Robin in her lovely, ever so kissable soft lips.

Katie: AWOL represents everything that is wrong with men, including erectile dysfunction.

Robin drops to her seat and cups her lips in her hand. A little sliver of blood has been produced from her busted and lacerated lip. She rolls desperately away from the kneeling AWOL, who is still pulling a few more barbs from his taint. Although he looks to have things firmly in hand a very hot headed Jackson Adams stomps his way towards the ring with a Singapore cane in hand.

Billy: Oh no, why is this joke coming back out here? Hasn’t he had enough of the Empire yet?

Katie: Some people are just slower learners than others. And I’m sure the word “slow” has been used to describe Adams PLENTY.

Jackson slips into the ring and grunts through the pain. Every step hurts, every motion is an agonizing one, yet he carries onward, fueled by his desire for retribution. His target is the bleeding Brooks, a woman who has been a constant nuisance to him almost his entire wrestling career.

Katie: Don’t you DARE strike Robin with that cane you twisted bastard.

Brooks looks up timidly into the face of Adams before clasping her hands together in prayer. The fans boo this shameful display as the Black Widow rises to her feet and gestures towards her pregnant stomach. Jackson has no mercy for either Robin or her offspring, he pulls back the cane and launches it directly at her face. If it wasn’t for a timely duck from Brooks her head would have been splattered. Instead the cane cracks against the forehead of the Big Crazy Bastard.

Billy: HA-HA-YES!

Katie: That was hysterical.

AWOL falls to the canvas like a ton of bricks while Jackson stands over him, jaw dropped, eyes unable to blink. The moment of shock and confusion allows Robin and Christian to high tail it from the ring. The two roll under the ropes to the outside and convene at the bottom of the ramp. They stare with grins on their faces to the inside of the ring where Jackson is still paralyzed by his actions.

Mayne: Jackson with a trademark botch. He just took the head off of one of his teammates at Extinction. If he wanted to endear himself with his old stablemates, I think he just undid all his hard work.

Katie: This only benefits our team at Extinction.

The cane slips out of Jackson’s hand and falls to the canvas beside AWOL’s body. Jackson stands back, cupping his hand over his mouth and shaking his head. It has finally set in what he’s done and that he’ll have to deal with the repercussions. Just as he begins to exit the ring AWOL sits straight up, completely shaking off all the strikes and bumps he’s withstood throughout the night. His bone chilling eyes shoot towards Jackson, who lingers on the apron. All Adams can do is shake his head as AWOL continues to burn a hole straight into his soul with his penetrating eyes.

MASQUERADE

Jon: I do not get the appeal of this place.

Rich navigates his way through the dimly lit boiler-room. He carefully avoids some steaming pipes and any that may hanging low enough to crack him in the head. He ducks and weaves through the smoky atmosphere, coughing as he steps through a particularly thick cloud.

Rich: Hellloooo, Zero. It’s your old friend Jon Rich. Remember me. Just came to give you the proverbial slap on the back.

After fanning some of the fragrant air from his face his eyes finally catch Zero.

Jon: Ahhh, there she blows.

Although he’s a little tentative, Rich moves onward, stepping towards Zero who is crouched over a table. A long black cape hangs over his shoulders and his back, face still hid beneath the tight confines of his mask.

Rich: Hey Zero, sorry if I’m interrupting anything bro….

He gets no response, not even a tilt of a head or a tensing of the shoulders. Zero just leans on the table making no moves and producing no words.

Jon: I know you’re a busy man and you’ll want to start gearing up for our Ultimate Incentive match at Extinction so I’ll make this short.

There’s still no movement from the silent figure.

Rich: I just wanted to thank you is all. It may sound corny, or cliché, but I’m glad you did the right thing. You really saved my ass out there tonight. If it weren’t for your intervention…..well…..I don’t even want to think of what might have happened to me.

Rich waits for a response, a simple “your welcome,” but gets nothing other than the cold shoulder.

Jon: Yeah, that’s all I wanted to say pretty much. Oh and it’s going to be a privilege to face you one more time at Extinction, I’m really looking forward to it.

Zero doesn’t take the bait, he just glares forward into the nothingness.

Rich: Alright then, guess I’ll see you around.

The somewhat nervous Rich turns away from Zero shaking his head. With a smirk on his face, satisfied that he’s relayed his message, Jon proceeds to exit the boiler room. He gets in a few steps before a steel chain cracks him in the back of the head. The blow is delivered with such force that it immediately topples the Real Deal, and sends him plummeting to the concrete. Zero stands over him, fist wrapped in steel and cape dangling from his shoulders. He reaches up and rips away the black fabric then does the same to the mask. Once it’s stripped from his face the features of Pat Evans are revealed.

Evans: Sad…..I really thought you were smarter than this Jon.

Rich rolls to his side and grips at the knot on the back of his head, looking up into the face of his attacker.

Pat: But I guess you can consider this another free lesson. All your honor and your respect just got you laid out on your ass. I’ll see you Sunday.

The chain slips from Evans’ fist and falls to the concrete beside a groaning Jon. Although he’d love to retaliate his body won’t allow him to get up and fight back. All he can do is watch as Evans leaves the boiler-room and leaves him behind.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Live on Pay-Per-View

SWITCHEROO

Michelle: Too Mag, Too Mag, don’t you want to stop and think about this?

There is no more room for thought and Too Magnificent is out of time. He storms towards the double doors leading into the parking lot, title thrust over his shoulder and angry expression present on his face. He reaches out for the door knob and only briefly glances towards Blacker.

Too Magnificent: The time for thinking is over, Michelle. Besides, I thought you got off on random acts of violence.

Blacker: I do, but you seem a little ill-prepared for another brawl, meaning it probably won’t last long enough for me to actually get my jollies.

Too Magnificent: Sorry Michelle, but this will end quickly. It’s only going to take me a few seconds to introduce AWOL’s face to the pavement and end any rumors circulating through the lockeroom. People are going to stop fucking gossiping because my fucking fist is going to shut their God damn mouths.

The doors fly open and Too Magnificent steps out into the parking lot, looking to dispel all the malicious rumors and put an end to the Big Crazy Bastard. He strolls into the enclosed facility and looks around, scoping things out. From the corner of his eye he spots his target, although it isn’t the prey he came to hunt.

Too Magnificent: What are you doing here?

Psycho: I was about to ask you the same fucking question.

The two monstrous behemoths glare at one another from across the parking lot. They fail to realize that they’ve both been played by the same man.

Too Magnificent: It’s a fucking ambush huh? You and AWOL going to get the drop on me? Ain’t gonna happen motherfucker.

Psycho: So it was you who left the message on my wall, huh? Thought you could trick me did ya?

The words stop flowing and are replaced with flying fists. Psycho’s knuckle nails Too Magnificent to the jaw before he responds with a shot of his own. The two men brawl back and forth for several seconds, until Psycho stops throwing fists and grabs the back of his winded rival’s head. He charges Too Magnificent towards a car and throws him into the rear bumper.

As his body hits the vehicle the taillight shatters and the alarm starts wailing.

Psycho: You thought it was pretty cute that you got the drop on me earlier didn’t you? It’s not going to happen again, you don’t fool Psycho TWICE.

He rushes in to press his advantage only for Too Magnificent grab a shard of glass from the shattered taillight. He stands up and stabs the inbound Psycho right between the eyes with the sharpened edge of the shard. The Sadistic Savage winces and staggers back, grabbing at his lacerated forehead. Too Magnificent rushes in, spearing Psycho to the ribs and powering him spine first into the side of a truck.

Psycho’s body hits the steel, creating a loud rumble and almost taking his legs out from under him. He remains standing and keeps fighting, especially as Too Magnificent tries to stab him in the face with the shard. Psycho wraps his hands around his demented rival’s wrist, holding it back and keeping the blade away from his already lacerated face.

A well placed knee to the lower extremities causes Too Magnificent to drop the glass and double over. It puts him in perfect position for the psychotic ex-Cartel Champion to grab his hair and rush him face first into the dented panel of the truck.

Too Magnificent’s skull cracks off of it and the force of the ricochet sends him twirling across the parking enclosure. With his brain rattled Too Magnificent is unable to stop the flurry of forearms drilling him to the upper back and almost taking him down to the concrete.

The strikes bring him closer and closer to the hood of a Cadillac. He falls into it just as Psycho gets a running start, barreling towards him. That’s when Too Magnificent catches the inbound Psycho under the arm and hip tosses him right on top of the hood. He crashes down with all his weight spine first into the vehicle, his heels cracking the windshield.

The fired up Too Magnificent turns his back to Psycho and wraps his arm around his neck, applying a modified side headlock. He then begins drilling his lacerated forehead with right hand after right hand until more and more blood is flowing down his face.

Psycho finally shoves him away and rolls off of the hood, staggering and stumbling across the concrete. Blood has seeped into his eyes, impairing his vision. He wipes it away and can see just as Too Magnificent delivers a boot to his ribs, doubling him over. Too Magnificent then reaches out and grabs him by the throat, goozling him for the chokeslam.

Too Magnificent: I’ve been waiting a loooooong time for this Psycho.

He prepares to chokeslam the Sadistic One on the concrete and perhaps end his career only to have an elbow catch him to the back of the head. The strike causes Too Magnificent to loose his grip and drop his guard. Psycho twists around, grabs the back of his head and charges him at a mini-van, throwing him face first into its many windows. Too Mag’s skull goes right through the glass, shattering it into thousands of little pieces.

The huffing and wheezing Psycho backs away from Too Magnificent in search of another weapon. All the while the N.H.B Champion retracts his head from the mini-van, revealing his now bloodied face. He leans against the vehicle of choice for soccer moms and tries to overcome the blunt impact to his cranium. Although his legs have trouble supporting his overly traumatized body, Too Magnificent steps away from the van just in time to get cracked between the eyes with his own title belt.

The shot knocks Too Magnificent to the ground, his body rolling across the concrete. The N.H.B Title continues to hang from Psycho’s hand before he swings it and slaps it into the trunk of a car.

With labored breaths he continues after the rolling Too Magnificent, who nears the guard shack. Instinctively the champion grabs at the outer wall of the shack and utilizes it to stand. He props himself up against it when Psycho comes barreling in, delivering a lariat right to his throat. The impact carries both Too Magnificent and Psycho over the bar prohibiting an influx of traffic. The two collapse across the concrete but quickly work their way back to their feet, fists still flying back and forth between one another’s faces.

The bloody brawl between them proceeds as they battle up the ramp and eventually out of the building.

SIMON CAGERO VS. JOHNNY KINGDOM

The cameras cut back to the smirking face of Billy Mayne and the indifferent Katie Steward behind the announce table.

Billy: Psycho and Too Magnificent brawling out of the arena, good riddance if you ask me.

Katie: Does anybody ask for your opinion like ever?

Mayne: No, but I like to think they want to hear it.

Steward: We don’t.

WAKE UP

The familiar lyrics has a familiar effect on the crowd, snapping them out of their daze. They leap to their feet and throw their arms up high, anxious to see the Team Leader himself. Their anxiety is brief because Johnny Kingdom storms the stage and immediately gets their heart beats racing. He wastes no time pandering to the masses and instead heads straight for the squared circle, his feet crashing down to the mats. The moment he slides into the ring and leaps to a turnbuckle the hyper fans cut loose with a reaction that threatens to implode the Manhattan Center.

Billy: Listen to these morons, these jackals. Jackals feasting off the scraps that Kingdom has thrown them over the years. He doesn’t care about them, all he’s concerned with is getting cash in his wallet and titles on his shoulder.

Katie: Plus he’s bald, which is just disgusting.

Mayne: Almost as disgusting as his repeated put downs directed at Simon Cagero. Instead of being a gracious former World Champion, Johnny has done everything he can to call into question the legitimacy of Simon’s win at the Overbooked Extravaganza. Well, any doubt will be removed next win the Five Star Society’s World Champion puts an end to the greedy Team Leader.

Johnny drops from the apron and now hangs back in anticipation of his opponent’s arrival.

Suddenly, the lights dim down, and are replaced with a dark red. The words "Wasted" Appear on the video tron as it flickers to life, as "Pardon Me" by Staind starts to play.

I'm One Step
From A Breakdown
Two Steps From
Being Safe
Just Try To
See This Through
I'm Three Steps
From This Nightmare
And Four Steps
From The Door
The Rest Is
Up To You

"LAAAAAADIIIIEEEESSSS AND GENTLEMEN!"

A voice comes over the music, as the crowd gets to their feet. Simon Cagero walks out from the backstage, holding a microphone and the World Championship.

"ARE WE READY?!"

He belts out into the microphone, before looking around to all the fans

"To get..."

The smile on his face broadens, as all the lights dim down.

"A LITTLE WASTED?!"

The rampway lights up with a string of pyro that spells out 'W-A-S-T-E-D" Simon looks around, before starting his way down to the ring

Pardon Me While I
Just Turn My Back
And Walk Away
Pardon Me If I
Can't Listen
To The Things
You Say

Pardon Me If I
Can't Fake This
While You Still Believe
Pardon Me

To the apron leaps Cagero with a smile on his face and his newly won title held high above his head.

Mayne: The World Champion, the head cheese himself, the man of the hour, the big dong on campus, the master mother fucker….

Steward: Is this going to continue all night?

Billy: Sorry, I’m just so excited about this match and the implications of it. Cagero hitting the ring, showing absolutely NO fear of Johnny Kingdom.

Katie: Like he should.

Mayne: All the issues, all the problems between these two is finally going to be resolved with a Cagero victory in just a mere matter of seconds.

Simon discards the World Heavyweight Title to official Wright then glares into the face of his opponent. Johnny gestures to the Championship then to his waist, implying that he’ll have it back in his possession shortly.

Billy: And here is the match that some people have been waiting for. Myself, I could give it or take it. The only reason I’m SLIGHTLY interested, is because it involves the Five Star Society’s World Champion, THE Simon Cagero.

Katie: I didn’t select him, but then again I only select the best and my standards are especially high.

The fans are so excited that they could almost burst at the sight of Simon and Johnny standing toe to toe, the two about to put on yet another epic singles bout reminiscent of their Paranoia V encounter. With the bell chiming in the background it’s finally come down to this, the clash everyone has been waiting to see. For Simon validation is on the line, for Kingdom he has another chance to demonstrate his sheer dominance.

Whether it be desire or egotism that fuels this bout both men step forward with a heavy heart and burdened minds, arms interlocking. They jostle for positioning, twisting from side to side in the basic collar elbow with neither man yet to get much in the way of an advantage.

It isn’t until Simon pulls Johnny down into a side headlock that the stalemate ends.

Billy: Just as I expected, Simon gets in the first offensive move.

Before Billy could even continue his gloating, Johnny plucks his head from the submission and pulls Simon’s arm behind his back, applying the hammerlock. Cagero stomps his feet, the World Champion slapping his shoulder to keep the blood flowing.

Johnny twists the arm at a particularly excruciating angle. Eventually Simon finds an escape just as Kingdom did. He throws a back elbow and then spins his body around under Johnny’s arm and his own. He turns just enough to wedge his spine to the Team Leader’s ribs, take him by the wrist and deliver a fireman’s carry from a kneeling position. Johnny hits the ring across his back and Simon locks his legs around the former Champion’s throat.

The head scissors remains locked in for several seconds until Johnny nips up out of the submission and to his feet. He turns with his fist cocked back, ready to strike, but Simon rolls well outside of his reach. The Champion kneels on the canvas, glaring at the hostile Team Leader who tries to control his emotion.

Katie: Looks like Kingdom is losing his cool. Me, I never loose my cool.

Mayne: Your just like the camel from those cigarette ads.

Steward: Did you just compare me to a camel?

Mayne: That’s not how I met it….

Katie: SILENCE!

The hostility in Kingdom is replaced with a confident smile, his swagger beginning to return as he gestures for a tie up. Simon puts on the same grin, reaches his feet and then tentatively moves in for the collar elbow lock. That’s when Johnny lunges towards Simon’s ribs, going for a knee strike to his gut, trying to trick him. The optimum word in that sentence being, TRYING.

Cagero is not one to be easily fooled. He catches the knee right before it hits his gut then reaches out with his leg and sweeps the other foot out from under the Team Leader. Before Kingdom even realizes that his plan went awry, Simon is swinging around his legs and dropping down into the figure four.

Billy: Classic figure four lock by Cagero, he may force Johnny into submission right away.

Katie: Good, it would save me the burden of pretending to care about this match.

Simon barely has the hold locked in before Kingdom rolls his body towards the ropes and throws a hand over the middle cable. Official Wright steps up and does his job, starting a five count but only reaching three before Simon breaks his submission hold.

He crawls away from Kingdom and reaches his feet before nudging the official aside and stomping his foot. The crowd grows anxious, realizing that Simon is moments away from delivering a superkick that could end this match faster than anyone had expected. Clearly Cagero is not only here to win but make a statement, and what better statement could made about the legitimacy of his title reign than by knocking Johnny out in seconds rather than minutes.

Katie: Looks like simple Simon has more balls than I thought. Although I didn’t think he had any testicles to begin with, so it’s really not that much of a shock.

Simon prepares to ring Kingdom’s bell as the Team Leader reaches his feet. He then turns around just as Simon steps forward to deliver the superkick. Johnny delivers a kick of his own however, lifting his shin into the air and driving it into Simon’s inbound ankle.

The soccer kick sends Simon’s leg traveling far astray from it’s original target. The blow connects with such force that it actually sends the World Champion into a spin, now limping and turning right into the clutches of the Team Leader. Johnny traps Simon’s head in a front chancery, going for the Exodus Finale.

Mayne: Not yet, not this soon!

The fans pop in anticipation of the brainbuster DDT that has finished off so many opponents in the past, but it won’t end Simon’s momentum, not tonight. He drops to his knees and out of the front chancery just in time. In the process he reaches out, grabs the back of Johnny’s knees and pulls them out from under his body.

The Tag Team Champion collapses to his back with Simon standing up and swinging around one of his legs, going for the figure for a second time. Johnny move as expediently as possible, wedging his free foot to Simon’s bum and kicking him off. Cagero staggers forward to the center of the ring as Johnny rolls to his feet and comes rushing in for the advantage.

He spins around in an attempt to deliver the roaring elbow that has rendered many a men unconscious. Once again Simon subverts the crowd’s expectations by side stepping the forearm, catching Johnny around the neck and flipping him over his body into a side headlock takedown.

Johnny collapses to his spine with Simon coming down on top of him, both arms wrapped tightly about his rival’s oxygen deprived skull. It doesn’t take long for Johnny to find a counter though, reaching up with his legs, wrapping them around Cagero’s head and pulling him down into the head scissors. Simon squirms from side to side before eventually nipping up to his feet and twisting to face his kneeling opponent.

Cagero’s lifts his leg as if he’s about to hit a roundhouse kick only to have Kingdom roll clear from the reach of his feet.

Billy: And we’re right back to where we started. Something tells me we’re going to be here for a while.

Katie: Oh wonderful. Time to find out what channels this monitor gets, and they had better be premium channels dammit.

Simon steps back and rethinks his strategy as a grin settles on his face. Much like Kingdom moments ago Simon lifts his hands and gestures for his opponent to bring it. Johnny stands up nodding and acquiescing to the Champion’s request. He stands up, steps towards Simon and then hauls off and slaps him right across the cheek.

Mayne: Now what is that all about? Does he want to get in Simon’s head or does he want to win this match?

Katie: I think beating Cagero will involve both. Or he could just jingle some keys in front of Simon’s face and take him out while he’s mesmerized by the bright shinny objects.

The crowd chimes in after that slap with an “ohhhh” and the obligatory “no he didn’t.” Simon licks his fat lip and shows that he can give just as well as he can take, delivering his own slap on the face of a smug Kingdom. The shot echoes throughout the arena and elicits the same response from an excited audience.

Billy: Now that was a pimp slap.

Katie: The only thing Simon is pimping is a three hundred pound bleach blond who only services trashcans. I doubt he gets much business.

The slap has Kingdom doubled over, feeling at a tooth to make sure it wasn’t knocked loose. After confirming that his trademark smile is still in tact Johnny stands and delivers a forearm directly to his opponent’s jaw. Simon steps back, steadies himself and delivers a straight punch, then another, and another. Johnny reacts with a few shots of his own, both men going back and forth with the jabs.

The World Champion finally catches Johnny with a string of shots, hitting him with one hard enough to make Kingdom actually drop his arms limp to his sides. He stumbles with each blow, Simon finally building some momentum. That is until his next devastating right is blocked by Kingdom, and Johnny steals the wind straight from his sails. He connects with his own haymaker, and follows it up with a second helping. Another punch drills Simon, and then a fourth, the strikes backing Cagero up across the ring.

Billy: Slug it out boys, just slug it out.

The fans can feel the anger rising in both opponents, this match degenerating from a battle of sportsmanship to an outright brawl. All the past tensions, all the lingering animosity comes pouring out of both men in the form of right hands. Johnny goes for the knock out shot but the only thing is fists disrupt is the air where Simon’s face use to be.

Cagero ducks the punch and rushes into the cables behind Kingdom, trying to build some momentum.

He bounces off just as Kingdom turns around and levels him to the throat with a lariat. The collision knocks Johnny to the canvas before he rolls across it to the outside of the ring.

Mayne: Classic strategy.

Katie: Classic? I’m surprised you didn’t say “vintage.”

Billy: I don’t have a porn mustache and I don’t have the words most aggravating laugh.

Steward: No, but everything else about you is aggravating.

Johnny lands on his feet across the outside mats, holding his throat and trying to form some type of new strategy in his head. The opportunity to develop a new gameplan is taken away from him when Simon steps to the ropes and grabs the top one, preparing for a dive. Before his opponent can go airborne Kingdom lunges towards the ring, reaching under it and grabbing Simon’s foot. He rips the leg out from under him and by clutching the ankle he’s able to drag the World Champion out of the ring.

Cagero lands on his feet across the outside mats and then is taken by the back of the head. Johnny charges him forward and throws Simon with all his strength shoulder first into the steel steps. The sound of body crunching against steel echoes throughout the Manhattan Center as Simon collapses to his stomach, feeling the full force of the impact.

Katie: Of course the mindless brutes here in the IWC would stoop to using weapons to win.

Mayne: Well Katie, you have to realize, not everyone is able to get it done with just moves as easily as you do.

Simon sits on the mats gripping at what could possibly be a fractured clavicle but there is no time to nurse his injuries, no matter how severe they may be. Kingdom steps in and kicks him to the sternum, knocking Simon to his back. He now takes him by the wrist and rolls him to his feet before using his strength advantage to hoist Cagero up into a press.

He steps back dropping Simon sternum and throat first into the steel stairs, the World Champion bouncing off the corner. He stumbles in reverse right into the waiting arms of Kingdom who then rolls him under the ropes to the interior of the ring. The ever so aggressive Johnny slips into the ring, steps up to Simon’s side and lifts his foot into the air, driving it down into Cagero’s collar bone.

Billy: Uh oh.

Katie: What? Did you make number 2 in your shorts again?

Billy: Not this time. It looks like that diabolical bald villain has found a part of Simon’s body to target, this is never good.

Steward: Just about anything to do with Kingdom is no good.

Cagero rolls away from Johnny and sits up on the canvas, wincing from the pain that consumes his shoulder and neck. Without a sign of worry or regret, Johnny drops down behind Simon, hooks one arm and then begins unloading with MMA elbows. His elbow strikes the side of Simon’s face but mostly targets the collar bone, intent on fracturing it, locking in the Lesson in Leadership and picking up a quick 1, 2, 3, victory. A win that would prove without a shadow of a doubt who is truly on the top of the good chain in the IWC.

Billy: Do you see now Goddess? Do you see how selfish Johnny is? He can’t stand anyone else being on top of the company so he has to try and injure them in order to retain his spot. To hell with the longevity of the IWC.

Elbow after elbow connects to the clavicle and face of a very disorientated World Champion. He is so shaken up by the blows that he doesn’t even realize that they’ve stopped long enough for Kingdom to push him down to the canvas and attempt the lateral press.

1

2

Simon gets his arm from the canvas, the very one sporting a traumatized shoulder. Johnny drags that very arm down to the canvas and then drops knee first directly into the throat and shoulder area.

A string of four letter words pours out of Simon’s mouth as he rolls away from his opponent. He’s now employing Johnny’s strategy against him, making the ring wider by providing some space between he and his adversary. Simon ends up rolling right into a turnbuckle, getting to a knee and grabbing the middle rope as he rubs at the target of Johnny’s onslaught.

Kingdom moves in with a purpose, hands honing in on the wounded shoulder. He walks right into a knife edge chop across the chest though, one so loud it echoes throughout the arena. Johnny steps back, grabbing at his chest and then planting his feet. He steps in undeterred, refusing to give away his advantage. From his kneeling base Simon hits a SECOND knife edge chop, this one connecting with more force than the last.

Katie: Well it seems like the Mommy Fucker of Canada is finally starting to mount some offense.

Billy: Please never use the word “mount” around Simon Cagero again.

Johnny is so stubborn that he rushes at his opponent a third time and receives the same treatment. A knife edge chop connects and sends him back peddling towards the center of the ring. Confidence in Cagero begins to build, rising to his feet and charging at Johnny only to be cracked under the jaw with a roaring elbow.

The blow hits with enough force to shatter the bones in Simon’s face. The impact echoes throughout the Manhattan Center and sends Cagero tumbling to his seat, back wedged to the turnbuckle.

Billy: So much for that.

Johnny rubs at his forearm for a few second, hurting himself in the process of delivering that deadly strike. After shaking out the kinks he rushes at the prone Simon, throwing his body knee first into his victim. If his victim were the turnbuckle that is. Simon clears out of the way just seconds before the knee could do any further damage to his face.

The Team Leader’s limb strikes the corner and a pop can be heard in his leg. Kingdom’s face goes white as a sheet, doubling over and reaching for his knee, which may be broken after hitting the corner with such force.

Johnny tries to put some pressure on but hobbles each time. The official steps in to check on his condition but is pushed away by the Team Leader who is determined to walk it off. He turns to the center of the ring finally bearing his weight on the leg when Simon leaps in and delivers a dropkick right on the kneecap.

The Team Leader’s legs cut out beneath him and he goes crashing face first into the canvas.

Mayne: There we go, this is exactly what Simon needed to do. Go after the weak point, show no mercy, show no respect.

Katie: Ha, respect? I only respect one person, myself, and that’s only because I earned it.

The crowd sits in shock, not knowing how to react to Cagero going after the leg of the Team Leader, having convinced themselves that he wouldn’t stoop to his opponent’s level. Simon isn’t about to gamble or leave things to chance, he continues going after the leg the same way Kingdom targeted his clavicle.

With his bent arm held at his stomach Simon reaches his feet, stepping up behind Kingdom. The Tag Team Champion tries to get up but almost falls right back over. He tries to stand again and begins to hobble on his wounded leg when Cagero delivers a kick straight to the crease of the knee.

Johnny is brought right back down to all fours, slapping the canvas and realizing that he’s powerless to stop the World Champion’s onslaught. Cagero continues exploiting his chink in his opponent’s armor. He grabs Kingdom’s ankle, lifts his leg into the air and then drags it down forcefully knee first into the canvas. Johnny rolls across the canvas grabbing at his knee, his face contorting due to the agony flowing all throughout his cracked limb.

He doesn’t roll very far before his leg is caught he’s turned to his stomach and his knee is elevated then slammed right back down into the canvas. Johnny cuts lose with a sound he very rarely makes, a scream. The agony is crippling him.

It becomes clear that his only salvation from this onslaught will come in the form of the apron. Johnny continues rolling away from Simon, trying to think even though he’s blinded by the trauma inflicted on his knee. He rolls under the ropes to the safety of the steel apron, arm dangling over the middle cable to keep himself from crashing to the outside.

Johnny enjoys his brief solitude before he feels something grabbing at his ankle. His eyes widen and his jaw just begins to drop when his leg is hoisted into the air and Simon drags his knee down directly into the hardest portion of the ring. If his knee weren’t shattered before, surely it is now.

Billy: BRUTAL…..this is awesome.

Steward: I haven’t seen that before. Not that it impresses me in the slightest, it’s just new.

The fans are cringing and covering their eyes at the sight of a badly wounded Kingdom rolling into the ring, knee gripped in both hands. Pain pulsates all throughout his leg, emanating from a knee that swells wider and wider, almost bursting out of the kneepad meant to protect it. Nothing can protect Johnny’s knee but himself, which he realizes as Cagero re-enters the ring and continues his methodical dissection.

He steps towards a now kneeling Johnny who suddenly lunges forward, driving the top of his head directly into Cagero’s ribs. Simon doubles over, grabbing at his gut and grunting from the damage that has been done. He is stooped over just enough for Johnny to stand and drill him under the jaw with a European Uppercut. The crowd screams as spit flies from Simon’s mouth, traveling high into the air before splashing down on own face.

He staggers backwards and tries to catch himself before going over, remaining slightly coherent despite the stiff nature of the strike. Johnny stands up but only puts pressure on one leg as he limps towards Simon to get himself back on the advantage. That’s when Cagero surprises him, reaching out with his feet, wrapping them around the Team Leader’s ankle and drop toe holding him face first into the canvas.

Billy: Right back to the leg he goes. As much as I slam these guys on occasion, I have to admit that they have PhDs in psychology.

Katie: I have seven different PhDs, I just choose not to brag about them. After all, I have many others attributes I can brag about.

Billy: That you do Goddess, that you do.

Although Johnny is scraping and clawing towards the ropes, he can’t move an inch, leg still trapped in the hands of Cagero. Simon rolls him to his back, lifting his damaged wheel into the air and then leaps into the air. He comes down knee first directly into the side of Kingdom’s leg, slamming it forcefully against the canvas with all his weight crashing across it.

Kingdom sits up unable to turn his pain into words, the anguish taking his breath away. After the initial shock has subsided Johnny falls to his back and covers his face with both palms, trying to hide his agony from the concerned fans. Simon stands up with the leg still in hand before swinging around it, going for the figure four leg lock and possibly ending this match.

Johnny isn’t about to go down that easy, he wedges his palms to the canvas and frantically scoots backwards. Simon is pulled along as he tries to keep hold of the ankle, his weakened arm not allowing him to get full control of the leg. Finally Kingdom’s hands reach the ropes and the official once again demands that Simon break up his attempt at the submission.

A flabbergasted World Champion steps to the center of the ring, wiping away sweat from his brow and going back to the drawing board. From the corner of his eye he catches a glimpse of Kingdom employing the ropes to ascend painstakingly to his feet. Cagero sighs and moves in swinging his fist for a blow intended to jar his opponent long enough to get hold of the leg. Simon regrets thinking too far ahead as his fist is side stepped, his arm is caught and he’s dragged down to the canvas. He finds himself trapped in the crossface.

Mayne: Ohhh fiddlesticks.

Katie: How nice, Kingdom using the submission hold of a murderer, and this show is supposed to be family friendly?

Billy: Kinda.

Katie: They stopped being family friendly the second they allowed Kingdom’s face on camera.

Johnny rips on the arm and rears back on the neck, stretching the clavicle to the point that it almost shatters. The crowd watches with baited breathes as Simon’s hand rises towards the air, seemingly seconds from submission. What Johnny didn’t realize however when he applied the hold was his close proximity to the ropes. Simon takes advantage of their in ring positioning, lifting a foot into the air and dropping it across the bottom cable.

At first the Team Leader refuses to even acknowledge the referee until his arm is hooked and he’s FORCED off of Cagero. Johnny rolls to his knees fists clinched and face twisted with anger. He struggles to his feet at this point, once again hobbling on his bad wheel when Simon rises and tries to retake the advantage. He charges right into the clutches of the Team Leader, caught around both the thigh and the neck.

Johnny drops back into the release over head t-bone suplex, planting Cagero viciously spine first across the ring. He rolls around gripping at his kidneys while an exasperated Kingdom crawls into the cover.

Mayne: You had better kick out Simon, if you know what’s good for you.

The ref’s hand slaps the canvas and the crowd watches intently, realizing that Kingdom is well on his way to demonstrating his point.

1

2

Cagero’s shoulder flies from the canvas, kicking out a fraction of a second before he could be defeated by his long time nemesis. Johnny now props him on his seat and applies a nerve pinch, clamping his hand down directly on the clavicle of his opponent. He squeezes with all the might his hand can muster on the submission, causing Cagero to call out in pain.

Billy: This isn’t good. I imagine Johnny has a lot of strength in his palm since he uses it so frequently.

Katie: With a face like that I imagine it’s the only action he can get.

Johnny grip tightens until the bone is almost fractured in Simon’s shoulder/neck area. He begins to loose feeling in his right arm as a result of the pinching of his nerve as well.

Mayne: Get out of this already Simon, quit gold bricking.

Cagero’s face is overwhelmed with emotion, his teeth grating and his features twisting. He grabs his wrist with his free arm and squeezes it in an attempt to get the blood surging once again, to get some feeling back in his wounded limb. The World Champion now begins to painstaking task of trying to reach his feet, which the Team Leader will not allow. He pugnaciously holds on with every bit of strength he can possibly muster from his own ailing frame. He squeezes even tighter than before until he can almost hear the sound of popping bones.

Simon refuses to be bent to Johnny’s will and to the surprise of everyone he drops back. He falls to his side, squirming out of Johnny’s hand and then reaches up and takes the former Champion right around his injured knee. Before Kingdom can help it he goes tumbling forward into the canvas with Simon standing up behind him then transitioning into a Boston Leg Crab.

Billy: Outstanding counter. That’s the type of counter they make Lifetime movies about.

Johnny’s leg is once again being mangled in the grips of Cagero, who tries to establish the submission although he’s pretty much limited to the use of one arm. He leans back as far on the hold as his body will allow but Johnny isn’t about to let his opponent get the hold fully established. To the shock of Simon and the fans alike, Kingdom rolls to his back, forcing Simon to turn and face him as he tries to keep hold of the leg.

The Team Leader’s feet wedge to Simon’s sternum and clavicle, delivering a quick kick that sends the champion plummeting to the ring. He rolls backwards, grabbing at his injured shoulder while Johnny scrambles to his feet. The pain may be killing him but Kingdom puts as much pressure on his leg as needed to come barreling towards his still kneeling opponent.

Now it’s Kingdom who finds himself shocked when Simon reaches out, catches his inbound opponent around the leg and falls back. Johnny is once again tripped forward, collapsing to the canvas with Cagero still holding onto his leg as he rolls back and stands up over the knee. The Team Leader roars in anguish, finding himself trapped in the single leg crab once again.

Katie: Finally, it looks like this thing is going to be sewed up with a nice little pink bow on top. I really need a drink after all this.

Mayne: Oh, something STIFF maybe?

Katie: Now I need three drinks.

Johnny wedges his elbows to the canvas, gritting and growling through the seemingly insurmountable pain consuming his leg. Simon is in just as fragile a state, his shoulder damn near crippling him from the anguish flowing through it.

While Kingdom fights to hang in there Simon fights to hang on to the hold. Their opposing wills clash in an epic struggle in the center of the ring, the fans clamoring around the barricades in anticipation of either a submission or another escape.

Johnny’s claws dig deep into the canvas and he begins inching closer and closer to the ropes. They seem far outside of his reach, miles upon miles away. Nevertheless he preservers, crawling inch by inch to the cables. With his face blood red, veins dancing in his temples and muscles contorted he finally reaches for the sole source of salvation.

Billy: Great, he’s going to reach the ropes.

Johnny’s fingers are within centimeters of the rope before being pulled away. The crowd is squealing as Simon pulls his opponent back to the center of the ring with the Boston Crab still established. Johnny isn’t about to let this happen, taking advantage of his adversary’s weak shoulder by again rolling to his back. This time Simon turns to face Johnny, but before he can be kicked off, he swings around the wounded leg and drops to the canvas applying the figure four.

Mayne: Haha, now it’s over.

Katie: Thank God, or me, if I want to be more accurate. I can’t stand sitting next to you any longer, I think your odor has an odor.

The Manhattan Center is screaming as loud as their lungs will allow before bursting. Johnny lays on his back and punches the canvas, trying to find some means of blocking the pain in his leg from reaching his brain. He rolls from side to side but his attempts are futile, Cagero has got the submission applied and he isn’t about to let go.

Kingdom falls to his back and covers his face with both palms to again hide his shame while the official makes the three count.

1

Johnny sits up, realizing that both his shoulders were on the canvas. Simon keeps wrenching on the legs, hoping that he’ll either score a submission or force Johnny to pass out so that he can get the pinfall victory.

An exhausted Kingdom falls to his back once more.

1

2

He sits up and swings at Simon’s face feebly, but his fists only hit air, Simon far out of his reach.

Steward: Come oooooonnnn, just tap already.

Billy: We don’t want to be here all night.

Kingdom’s trembling fingers work their way over the stubble of hair on top of his head before balling into fists. He sits up yet again, trying to remain vertical to prevent accidentally falling victim to a pin. Cagero tightens the hold, realizing that he may be mere seconds from the biggest singles win of his career.

Billy: Tap, tap, tap!

Katie: Would it count if I threw in the towel for him?

Billy: I don’t think it would work in any wrestling organization.

Katie: Yeah but the IWC has more convoluted finishes than all wrestling companies combined. So this should be right up their alley.

From his seated base Kingdom swings at the legs interlocked around his own. The punches are not enough to force Cagero to break his hold, in fact they only entice him to tighten it. It’s at this point that desperation begins to sink in, prompting Kingdom to roll from side to side, believing that somehow it will avail himself from this predicament.

Simon refuses to be turned over and allow the pressure to be reversed, prompting Kingdom to fall to his back trying to rethink his strategy.

1

Johnny’s shoulder leaps from the canvas once more, keeping hope alive even if it’s quickly fading. Although he hates to do it his palm opens and lowers towards the canvas. It is until the crowd screeches that he realizes what he’s doing, causing Kingdom to stop in mid submission. He retracts his hand and balls it into a fist before falling to his spine.

1

2

Once again Kingdom is forced to tap out. Simon looks into the eyes of his opponent, seeing a very unfamiliar expression on his face. The World Champion’s confidence begins to grow, momentarily forgetting about the condition of his shoulder entirely.

Billy: Is Johnny that stupid that he’d rather have his career ended than tap? He’s not going to survive this, why doesn’t he realize that?

Steward: I think that after years of listening to himself speak that his brain has turned to dog food.

Just as all hope is lost, just when it seems that Kingdom is at an end he digs a little deeper, finding that last vestige of strength. He discovers the motivation to begin turning his body, anxiously transitioning to his side as Simon watches through wide eyes.

Katie: Looks like someone hit the juice backstage.

Billy: I swear that I developed these muscles naturally.

Steward: The only muscles you flex are the ones in your throat, minion. And I don’t mean by way of commentary.

With the crowd standing on pins and needles they watch Johnny turn all the way over to his stomach and reverse the pressure of the figure four onto Simon. He cries out in pain and then quickly breaks the submission, dropping to the canvas with sweat dripping from his fatigued body.

Billy: Ridiculous.

Steward: I’m telling you that Johnny must have been backstage popping a few of those magic little pills.

Mayne: Oh, so you think he has trouble getting an erection too?

Katie: Erm, that’s not what I meant, but it is a very real possibility.

Johnny’s legs feel like their on fire, the muscles severally strained within them. He lays on his back at this point, flexing the muscle within to try and work out the kinks when Simon steps in, once again clamping onto the leg. The World Champion is determined to apply another hold but Kingdom is just as vehement in his attempts to block it.

He now bends his knees, Simon doubling over to keep hold of the leg. That’s when Kingdom reaches up, grabs Cagero’s arm and uses it to pull him down to the canvas.

Simon collapses to the ring and Johnny sits up at his side, attempting to lock in the Lesson in Leadership once more.

Billy: Oh nooooo.

Before his arm can be trapped in the hold Simon rolls away from Kingdom and towards a nearby turnbuckle. He grabs the ropes and utilizes them to reach his feet. Cagero shows that he is heavily fatigued at this point, barely able to sustain the pressure of his own weight. All the while Johnny is stumbling to his feet in the center of the ring, trying to stand on his weak wheel. Finally he rushes forward and throws himself into Simon only to have Cagero step out of the way.

As a result Johnny collides with the turnbuckle, bouncing off it and spinning so that his back is wedged to the corner. Somehow he remains upright long enough for Simon to take advantage. He rolls to the center of the ring, turning to face his wounded prey in the corner then bends forward, charging in with a spear. This time it’s Johnny who side steps Simon, who goes flying through the ropes shoulder first right into the exposed turnbuckle post. His clavicle cracks against the hard steel.

Katie: Painful.

Simon grabs at his shoulder and turns towards the center of the ring when Kingdom grabs hold of his arm and uses it to force the Champion down into the Lesson in Leadership.

Billy: Now it’s over, it’s over for sure ladies and gentlemen, FOR SURE.

Katie: Would you shush! You haven’t been right all night when you make that claim. Which has been a lot, seriously expand on your material.

Billy: That takes far more work than I’m willing to put in.

The spellbound crowd watches as Johnny torques on the neck until the bone threatens to crack within. Somehow though, Cagero is still hanging in there. He grinds his teeth and digs his claws deep into the canvas, hoping he can find the leverage to either reverse or reach the ropes.

Kingdom isn’t inclined to allow either goal to be reached. He rears back even further on the jaw, determined to either hear a hand slapping the canvas or a neck breaking in two. Simon wedges one knee to the canvas, and then another, fighting for everything that he is worth.

Billy: Fight it Simon, fight it….YES!

Cagero finds just the right leverage to roll sideways into Johnny’s chest, forcing the Team Leader to his back as he travels right over his sternum. The World Champion has found just the counter he was looking for. Wait, NO! Johnny rolls right over to and keeps the arm trapped between his knees with his hands clasped in front of Simon’s jaw.

Mayne: Ahhh!

Susie: I wouldn’t have been out of this hold and victorious ages ago. I guess we all can’t be perfect though, otherwise God wouldn’t have invited internet dating.

Mayne: Which I’ve NEVER….okay, twice, just twice though…..alright, more like four times, but that’s it, that’s the only amount of internet dating I’ve done…..in the United States.

The fans are as split as banana peel, some rooting for Simon, others begging him to submit and give Kingdom the win. Simon’s brain is just as split, one half telling him the tap, the other imploring him to keep fighting. The magnitude of a win tonight trumps any punishment Simon has endured thus far. He begins to claw his way across the canvas, actually dragging Johnny’s full body weight along beside him.

Billy: Get to those ropes.

Katie: You go boy.

The fans are so enthused their heartbeats are racing a mile a minute. Just when it feels as if their hearts are about to explode they stand and surge with one last burst of adrenaline. Simon’s hand extends and falls just short of the ropes, his fingers within inches of the cable.

Mayne: Jesus Christ, someone move the ropes closer to Simon already.

He exerts what energy has left for one last lunge at the rope only for his hand to fall to the canvas yet again. Johnny’s whole face is warped by his pain and adrenaline, throwing his brain into a state of chemical imbalance. It allows him to maintain the hold despite the wear and tear placed on his body. Simon looks to be fading and fading fast, having taken so much punishment, so much abuse at the hands of his opponent in this breathtaking, gutsy performance.

Another gutsy display is given to the fans as the official goes to check if Cagero is still conscious. The Champion’s hand is raised into the air and looks like no more than dead weight. It falls to the canvas enticing the official to raise it and suspend it above the canvas once again.

Kingdom keeps wrenching further and further back on the hold, on the verge of hearing the satisfying snap, crackle and pop. Simon’s arm falls to the ring a second time, showing that there is no fight, maybe no life left in the unconscious Champion.

The official goes for the final confirmation, raising the arm high into the air and then releasing it. He steps back, watching the hand tumble to the canvas. He stands to call for the bell when Simon’s arm shoots into the air, the fans popping like their lungs just exploding. The arm that just seconds ago looked as limp as a dead fish, suddenly shoots towards the ropes, hand wrapping around the bottom cable.

Mayne: Haha, he’s still got a little fight left in him.

Steward: Hopefully that’ll be enough to finally end this thing.

At the count of five Johnny is FORCED off of Cagero. The Team Leader looks shaken physically, mentally and spiritually upon the realization that Simon has indeed escaped his most crippling submission hold.

Billy: That’s right Johnny, deal with it.

Simon slowly begins to stand up, looking so fatigued, all the water in his body dripping out in the form of sweat. Johnny moves in at this point for the kill, grabbing the injured shoulder and clavicle of Cagero then spinning him around. Simon leaps into the air immediately and catches Kingdom around the neck, dropping back into a downward spiral.

Billy: THE BREAK THE SILENCE!

Steward: Good, I could hear crickets chirping.

Mayne: No, that’s the name of Simon’s finisher and he just nailed it on Kingdom.

Katie: And I should care why?

The breathless crowd watches on forced to rely on their gestures to convey their emotion. They slap the barricades and stomp their feet as Simon sluggishly, painstakingly rolls across the canvas and flings an arm over Johnny’s chest. They count along as the official’s hand slaps the canvas.

1

2

3!

The whole arena leaps to its feet in joy thanks to the last second kick out by the Team Leader.

Mayne: This isn’t funny ref. Stop playing around and raise Simon’s hand in victory.

Katie: I find nothing about this match, that referee, or this company humorous, and I have a wonderful sense of humor.

Simon sits up with his hands slipping through his hair, ready to rip it out at the roots. He wonders how, how in the world Kingdom could find the strength to kick out. With his heart about to burst and his muscles aching from the longevity of this grueling back and forth bout Cagero reaches his feet. He decides to step over Kingdom and wow the crowd with his aerial dare devilry.

Billy: Don’t do anything stupid Simon.

Katie: Too late, have you seen his hair?

Simon grabs the top rope, glancing over his shoulder at the laid out Kingdom before forming a grin. Suddenly he leaps into the air, extends his legs and drops them across the top rope. The suddenly confident Cagero delivers the split legged moonsault or at least that was what he was setting up.

At the last moment Johnny rolls out of harm’s way, causing Cagero back flip and land straight on his feet. He staggers a bit to maintain his footing while Kingdom stands and rushes in with the roaring elbow. Simon not only ducks the inbound forearm but hooks the crease of the elbow. He steps behind Johnny and tugs on the crease to spin him around and place him right in position for the Break the Silence.

Billy: YES.

Johnny swings out of the hold and around the arm, wrapping his hands around the bicep. He drops to the canvas forces Cagero down to his chest and stomach, going for the Lesson in Leadership.

Billy: NO!

The crowd is on its feet anticipating either an escape or a submission, either outcome would send them home happy. Johnny goes to interlock his hands in front of Simon’s chin only to have Cagero roll towards him. He forces Kingdom to his back with Cagero spread across his chest, reversing into a hook of the leg and the pin.

1

2

Johnny counters into a crucifix pin, wrapping his arms and legs around Cagero’s biceps and pulling the champion over to his shoulders.

1

2

Cagero kicks out.

Mayne: Dear lord this match is going to give me a stroke.

Katie: Actually all that meth you smoke will probably do it.

Billy: God to do something to stay conscious.

Simon rolls out of the hold, dropping to his knees but racing to his feet. Just as the Champion stands Kingdom goes for the boot to his ribs to possibly set up for the Exodus Finale. Cagero isn’t having any of it. He pushes the foot away and sends Johnny into another full revolution. He turns to face Simon who leaps into the air, wraps his legs around Johnny’s waist and traps his head in a front chancery. The crowd erupts at the sight of Simon breaking out the guillotine choke, otherwise known as the Suffocation.

Steward: It’s about time Simon showed why he has the endorsement of the Five Star Society.

Billy: Yeah, and it’s not just because he’s such a snappy dresser.

The air is deprived from Johnny’s head for several seconds, bringing him to the verge of tapping out. He has trouble remaining upright due to the suffocating effect and the damage done to his leg. Just when it seems he’s about to tip over Kingdom reaches up, catches Simon around the neck and breaks the legs from around his waist. He then heaves Simon up into a suplex position only to drop him straight on his head with the Exodus Finale.

Billy: This isn’t happening! The Exodus Finale delivered. Kick out Cagero, kick out!

The crowd watches with baited breaths as Johnny flings his arm over Simon’s chest, hoping that he’s done enough damage to secure what would amount to a MAJOR victory. The ref’s hand slaps the canvas and the crowd is yet again counting along.

1

2

3!

The Team Leader has done it, he’s proven without a shadow of a doubt who the better man…..scratch that, Cagero’s has evaded defeat once again, kicking out a split second before the three count. Johnny’s eyes are almost bugging out of his skull as he gets confirmation that he did not win here this evening.

Billy: There is a God.

Katie: More like a Goddess.

Billy: Simon kicks out and we still have a match going.

An exasperated Kingdom realizes what it’s going to take, desperate times calling for desperate measures. He stands and limps on his bad leg towards a nearby turnbuckle, slipping through the ropes to the apron. He winces as he puts pressure on his leg and ascends the ropes, going for that 450 splash.

Steward: Just how stupid are these guys? Why are they going high risk when it’s proven ineffective all night?

Billy: Some people just never learn from their mistakes. Otherwise Johnny never would have been a three time World Heavyweight Champion.

As Johnny nears the top rope the chants begin, the fans expressing just how awesome they think this match is. Johnny doesn’t listen nor care, only focused on hitting the 450 splash and putting all the doubters to rest. He balances himself out on the top rope and prepares for flight just as a hand wedges itself to his posterior. Johnny’s uncanny focus proves devastating, as it left him unaware of the intruding force shoving him from the top rope. Porno Lad sends Kingdom flipping through the air and crashing spine first into the canvas.

Mayne: Whoa! Porno Lad is going to make Johnny lay down.

Katie: I hope it’s not to strike a provocative pose. I have a major gag reflex problem.

The moment Kingdom’s spine hits the canvas the official is calling for the bell. It chimes repeatedly in the background, bringing this epic clash to a conclusion that leaves absolutely no one satisfied.

Billy: Wait. Porno Lad, what were you thinking? You just got Simon disqualified.

Katie: I’m sure he knows what he’s done and what he’s doing. What have I told you about second guessing us?

The fans are almost on the verge of a riot, no pun intended over the conclusion to what was a match of the year contender. To see another bout of this magnitude end in disgrace is almost too much for them to stomach. They let their opinion be known, directing it at Porno Lad who has now entered the ring in the midst of an argument with the official. Referee Wright, the very man who officiated the bout earlier tonight in which Porno Lad was disqualified, barks right back at Porno Lad. That is until he finds out that Porno Lad’s bite is as bad as his bark. A kick flies into his gut, perhaps shattering a rib on impact.

The referee falls over and quickly rolls across the canvas, feeling like he’s in child birth. With the official down Porno Lad is free to do as he pleases. He turns his eyes towards the laid out suffering Kingdom and then sets his plan into motion.

Porno Lad: Get up Cagero and pin him! Pin that 40 year old virgin right now!

The flustered fans realize that Porno Lad has it in his power overturn the referee’s decision and give Cagero the win. He puts his stroke to use in the process of nudging Simon with his foot, trying to snap him out of it. Cagero comes through and can see the vague shape of Porno Lad yapping above him.

Porno Lad: You make the pin, I make the count. Now hop to it.

He gestures repeatedly towards the aching Kingdom, who looks powerless to fend off a pin at this point.

Billy: Oh goodie, Porno Lad is going to symbolically make the count for Cagero to pick up the win. This will do two things, cement Simon’s place in the Five Star Society aaaaaannnd give the World Champion the win he deserves.

Katie: Plus it will shatter Johnny’s confidence and we’ll never see him again afterwards.

Porno Lad has a lot riding on this, a lot more than he’s letting on, hence his urgency to get Simon to his feet and into a lateral press. He now reaches out, extending his hand and hoping Simon will take it. Cagero may be dazed, he may be hurting, but he still has the power to reach out and wrap his palm around Porno Lad’s. The symbolic embrace has the fans on the verge of upchucking.

Mayne: Yes, yes, there’s our confirmation. Cagero finally making the right choice for once.

Steward: I guess that whole brawl between Too Magnificent and Psycho backstage was pretty pointless now. Simon showing where his allegiances lie, with the winning team.

Mayne: Feel this moment IWC, feel the moment where the entire course of IWC history has been altered.

Porno Lad uses the grip to force Simon off his back and to his feet. The two stand face to face, Porno Lad and Simon Cagero, shaking hands at this point to let the everyone know that the World Champion was nothing more than a co-conspirator all along. The fans let their voices be heard, clearing outraged by the transgressions of Cagero before he alters their perception of him with a superkick straight to Porno Lad’s jaw. The Prankster hits the canvas and rolls out of the ring after taking one right on the chin.

Billy: WHAAAAT!?! WHYYYY!?!

Katie: Simon has just committed career suicide.

The crowd sits back in shock before bursting with elation. They are overwhelmed with joy at the sight of Porno Lad rolling out of the ring gripping at his chin. Simon watches through satisfied eyes as the prankster spills under the ropes to the outside mats.

Mayne: I just don’t get it. I don’t get it at all. The Five Star Society has handed everything to Cagero, EVERYTHING, and this is how he repays them?

Steward: He’s finished, he’s through. Like I said, no man turns down Katie Steward, and no man turns down the Five Star Society.

Once Porno Lad has fallen to the outside of the ring, landing surprisingly on his feet, he finds himself eye to eye with Johnny Kingdom. The recovered Team Leader starts swinging, his fists drilling Porno Lad to both sides of his swelling jaw.

Billy: Now Kingdom all over Porno Lad, he’s gotten no love tonight at all.

Fist after fist connects to Porno Lad’s face, shaking him from scalp to toe. The rattled Prankster throws some haymakers of his own that stun an already fatigued Kingdom, but he recovers in time to deliver a rebuttal in the form of five knuckles. The two battle up the ramp, giving the fans just a small taste of the chaos they can expect when the Empire clashes with the Five Star Society at Extinction.

Katie: Beat that bald weirdo down Porno Lad, beat him as badly as you can, leave nothing for Extinction!

The war wages on and Simon is no more than a spectator at this point. He watches from the ring, head slightly hung from his disappointment. On a night where he vowed to beat Kingdom, to be the World Champion he knows he can be, everything has just……a blinding flash has silenced Simon’s thoughts.

Simon’s stream of consciousness ends the moment he turns to face the center of the ring and gets struck in the eye by a fireball. The flame shoots out of Riggs’ hand and hits him right in the pupils.

Billy: Whhhhaaaaa!

Steward: I already knew Riggs was a flamer.

The fans find themselves so shocked their as silent as statues. They watch Cagero spill to the canvas, rubbing and clawing at his eyes as he cries out in pain. The Painted Warrior is still kneeling on the canvas, looking through soulless eyes as his opponent on Sunday protects his seared flesh. EMTs immediately rush from the back trailed by trainers and referees. They are all sliding into the ring and converging on the possibly blinded World Champion.

Billy: Riggs, Riggs may of, he may of, blinded Cagero with that fireball. This is sick….I like it.

Katie: He just got what he deserved.

Mayne: I think Riggs has just ensured himself the World Title at Extinction. Simon may be on injured reserve after this, he may have to forfeit the title before Tables Are Legal.

Trainers continue to attend to Simon, keeping Riggs at bay, backing him up into a turnbuckle to ensure that he doesn’t do anymore damage. Riggs is content with just watching the swarm of bees swept into a frenzy thanks to his attack on the hive. Simon tosses from side to side, palms pressed to his singed pupils.

EMT: Can you open your eyes Cagero, try to open your eyes.

Simon: FUCK OFF.

Cagero pushes away their hands and the little lights they try to shine into his swelling eyes. The World Champion looks as if he’s been completed blinded by this disgusting attack from the fireball.

Mayne: I really don’t even know what to say here. So much has just happened it’s got my head spinning faster than Linda Blair’s.

Steward: Simon’s title reign and his career is over, Billy. That’s all you need to know. There’s not going to be a title match at Extinction. Not that anyone would have been interested in anyway, considering I wasn’t involved.

It takes some coaxing but the proud Simon finally accepts some help. The trainers take him by the wrists and pull him up to his seat, guiding him to his feet. Cagero stands and winces, the change in elevation offending his blinded eyes. Tears pour down his cheeks not from the pain but from the damage done to his tear ducts. He is unable to stop them no matter how hard he tries, having lost all function of his ocular nerves.

Billy: I hate to say it, but I think Riggs may have just taken pay back a little too far.

Katie: Non sense, no payback is too extreme, and come on, Simon DESERVED this.

EMTs and trainers help maneuver Cagero around the ropes and out of the ring. He leans on them for support and as guides. The World Champion clearly has no idea where he is as he’s led up the ramp and to the backstage area where he’ll receive immediate medical help. If there is any hope of saving his vision the EMTs have to move fast. Unfortunately they don’t move quick enough to avoid the wrath of Riggs. He rushes up the ramp, tossing EMTs and medics aside then delivers a straight forearm smash to the back of Simon’s head, the World Champion knocked to the stage and sent rolling across it.

Katie: Yay! He’s getting a little more of Simple Simon.

Mayne: He’s taking this feud to a whole nother level.

Trainers try to impede this assault only to be knocked on their asses with a few right hands. They collapse to the stage with Riggs towering above fists flailing. Many of the medics clear out of his way, not wanting to suffer the wrath of the Painted Warrior, who takes full advantage of his rival’s condition. He leads the blinded Simon up to his feet and charges him across the stage before ramming his skull directly into the steel support for the Cartel-tron. Cagero collapses to his back with Riggs crouching over him, savoring the sight of his wounded nemesis.

He takes a few moments to enjoy the fruits of his labors before finally leaving Cagero behind and walking backstage.

Billy: He’s leaving before anymore damage could be done. Regardless I don’t think Simon will be in any condition to compete in Tables Are Legal at Extinction with his World Title on the line.

Katie: Good, then the Five Star Society can put the belt on a real World Champion, like me for instance.

The medics tentatively approach Simon about to aid him as best they can. That’s when their scared off yet again as Riggs steps through the curtains with a little helper tagging along. He slides a table to the stage and quickly begins setting it up. Simon instinctively rises to his feet, which proves detrimental to the blinded World Champion. A jab to his wounded eye sends him tumbling backwards onto the table, now spread across it.

Billy: I think he’s done enough but apparently Riggs and I aren’t on the same page. While I’m reading the columns in Penthouse Forum, he’s reading something from Stephen King.

With Cagero sprawled helplessly across the table, Riggs’ attention turns to the platform in which he opts to dive from. His eyes twist towards the beams built around the Cartel-tron high above. The fans watch with wide eyes and exasperated breaths as Riggs begins to climb the very strut he threw Simon into moments ago.

Mayne: Where’s he going? Does he think he can climb inside of the Cartel-Tron? I’ve tried to go inside of televisions before, mostly during Victoria Secret ads, but it just ends in painful electrocutions.

Katie: Something tells me Simon is the one who wants to be living in a fantasy world right now.

Riggs has reached the bottom of the Cartel-tron and precariously steps across the highly elevated steel gilding. All the eyes of the fans and the viewers at home are fixed on Riggs, wondering what he has up his sleeve next, what suicidal act he’ll perform to inflict even greater injuries on his foe.

Billy: Think about this now Riggs, just stop and think.

Katie: That’ll probably give him a nose bleed, minion.

The anxious audience watches as Riggs closes his eyes and takes a leap of faith. He flips forward through the air, coming down all the way from the Cartel-Tron into a senton bomb right on top of Simon’s ribs. Both he and the World Champion crash through the tables, doing untold amounts of damage to their bodies. For Riggs any injuries he’s suffered in the process of hurting Cagero is all worth it. The wood explodes beneath them as Simon is driven into the steel ramp and Riggs rolls away holding his neck. A loud “holy shit” chant has started from the crowd who is absolutely stunned by Riggs’ display of utter insanity.

Billy: Holy shit is RIGHT!

Steward: Riggs should just give Dr. Kevorkian a call now if he’s suicidal enough to do something like that.

Mayne: Senton bomb from Riggs off the Cartel-tron, and through Simon and the table. What has he done? What state has he put himself and the World Champion in headed towards their showdown at Extinction?

Katie: Where a new World Champion is sure to be crowned and the lovely Five Star Society will end the pathetic Empire.

Billy: Will either of these two even make it to Extinction? This battle of one-upmanship may have just ended both of their careers.

Riggs lays panting on the stage beside Simon who rests amongst the many broken shards of wood. The show ends on champion and challenger laid out on the eve of their Tables Are Legal showdown.

FADE TO BLACK