OPENING VIDEO PACKAGE

RIOT!

We are live in the Indoor Sports Arena where the crowd is absolutely raucous for their first live glimpse of IWC action.

Billy Mayne: Your adrenaline should be racing and your hearts pumpin’ cause it’s time to once again join me, Billy Mayne, and the delectable Katie Steward, as we guide you through the chaos known as Riot!

Katie: And there should be PLENTY of chaos. It’s pretty much the only thing that the IWC knows how to do.

Mayne: Not true, we also know how to style our hair wonderfully. Speaking of great hair, Christian Savior has challenged Jake Starr to show up here tonight, and what a powder keg that threatens to be after the controversy at 2 For 1 Special. Is Starr gonna be here tonight or is he gonna chicken out?

MAX CRAVEN VS. AWOL

A thunderclap of cheers is heard throughout the building as mushroom shaped explosions tear through the steel grating of the stage. In a flash they illuminate the Big Crazy Bastard, who towers on the stage adorned in his IWC Tag Team Title belt. Gone from his features is any sense of stoicism or structure. His eyes look distant, void, and his face lacks it’s usual statue-esque façade. He moves into the ring and doesn’t bother with his usual “Semper Fi, Do or Die” taunt that gets the crowd pumped. Instead he steps to the center of the ring and begins to pace impatiently.

Mayne: And tonight we start off our show with someone of true talent, of true skill. A brilliant individual who’s in ring savvy is only matched by his sparkling good looks. Of course I’m referring to myself.

Katie: You had to be, because none of those characteristics can be used to describe AWOL.

Billy: Just take the polar opposite of everything I said and apply it to the Big Batty Baboon, who tonight battles one member of Generation Now, Max Craven.

AWOL continues to pace, perhaps anticipating the opportunity to dismantle one of the men responsible for his plunge off the edge of sanity. Just then Max’s entrance theme rifts through the speakers and brings the confused fans to their feet. While some are still loyal to Craven and his Fully Loaded escapades, others are less than forgiving of his association with the likes of Riggs and Jackson Adams.

Mayne: I can’t say I’m very excited about this one.

Steward: And I can’t say that I’m very excited about ANYTHING pertaining to the IWC.

AWOL continues to stew in anticipation, anxiously awaiting Max’s arrival. That’s when the show shifts to a live feed from the gorilla position backstage. Max Craven stands in the corridor leading to the ring with Jackson Adams giving him a last second pep talk.

Jackson: You know your role out there right, Max?

A rather reserved Craven nods his head.

Adams: Just remember, this is your INITIATION into Generation Now, don’t blow it.

Craven glares stoically into Jackson’s face before cracking a grin.

Craven: Don’t worry JA, I’ll get the job done.

Jackson slaps him on the shoulder and Max embarks towards the ring.

Mayne: What was that all about?

Katie: Why are you asking me? I neither know nor do I care.

It takes him a few more moments but Craven finally steps to the stage. He pivots between feet and then bolts straight for the ring without his usual fanfare.

Billy: And Craven is going straight after AWOL. Good, that means this match will get over far sooner than I thought it would.

Max slides into the ring and pops up to his feet with AWOL barreling down straight on top of him. Rights and lefts connect with both sides of Craven’s skull, Max firing back with shots of his own. The two continue to brawl with the fans rejoicing.

Mayne: Yes, good, beat the hell out of each other. The more they victimize one another the better it is for the Five Star Society.

AWOL eventually captures Max’s head and pulls it down into a series of knee thrusts to the skull. Craven tries to protect his head but his attempts are feeble at best. Eventually he’s taken by the wrist and shot off across the ring. AWOL turns, cocking his fist to catch him coming back in only for Max to grab the top rope, keeping himself from being launched off.

AWOL comes to Max instead, ready to unload with piston style rights and lefts. However, Max leaps through the ropes to the apron, then drives his shoulder into AWOL’s but. The Big Crazy Bastard bends over as Craven grabs the top rope and leaps over, twisting in mid-air, wedging his knees to his opponent’s chest and delivering a modified code breaker.

Both knees connect to AWOL’s face and send him staggering back into the turnbuckle, falling against it for support. Craven rolls to his feet and then comes barreling towards AWOL only to receive a boot square to the skull. The shot knocks Max back a few steps and puts him in a very precious predicament, his spine facing his unstoppable opponent.

AWOL rushes out of the corner to take advantage only to be clocked to the top of the head with a Pele kick. The strike knocks AWOL through a loop, sending him stumbling back right into the turnbuckle once again.

Billy: What was that? A flippidy doo-dah kick?

Steward: It was a Pele kick you oaf, and it’s not that impressive. I perform kicks and moves ten times as inspiring as that. Plus I do them with far more pizzazz.

The kick to the skull has scrambled AWOL’s already rattled brain, leaving him barely conscious as Max looks to further his advantage. The speedy Craven gets to his feet and comes charging in, lunging forward into a flying forearm to the face.

His forearm cracks AWOL in the skull and almost knocks his feet out from under him. Somehow he remains upright just long enough for Max to step to the center of the ring, get a running start then lunge forward into a big body splash.

Steward: See, look at that move, I would have made it far more impressive. I would have added a flip, or a hair whip, or a super sexy pose.

The fans are absolutely shocked as Max grabs his opponent by the back of the head and actually throws him down out of the turnbuckle to the canvas. Craven now swipes his palms together as if he just took out the trash. All those Pittsburgh natives are rather surprised to see AWOL being dominated by his smaller opponent. The ruthless Craven climbs up into a turnbuckle and steadies himself before flying from the second rope into a leg drop that connects across AWOL’s throat.

Instead of going for the pin Max races to his feet, darts to the turnbuckle, climbs to the second rope then leaps off into a double stomp. Both feet plow right into AWOL’s ribcage, causing him to curl up into the fetal position.

Mayne: What the hell is going on here? I’ve never seen AWOL get dominated like this before. Don’t get me wrong, I’m enjoying the hell out of it, but I just didn’t see this coming.

Katie: Maybe Generation Foul is in AWOL’s head. Just like the other forty million personalities.

AWOL grips at his mid-section as Craven crawls in and wedges his shoulders to the creases of his knees. He folds him up into the pin.

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Max’s attempt to pick up the pinfall does not pay off. AWOL gets his shoulder up and flips to his stomach. The kick out is enough to send the Generation Now member spiraling into madness. He climbs over AWOL’s back and begins to deliver forearm after forearm to his upper back where the spinal column connects to the next.

The fans are still baffled by what they’re seeing, shocked that AWOL is being decimated and that Max is being so physical instead of fun loving. Craven eventually reaches his feet at the referee’s behest and begins to deliver stomps to the head and shoulders of his opposition.

AWOL tries to get up, forcing his knees beneath him before Max rushes in behind him, catches the back of his head and drags him down face first into the canvas. The one hand bulldog connects and successfully puts AWOL over onto his back in a supine position.

With AWOL so perfectly place Max cannot pass up the opportunity to leap over him, lunge into the ropes and drop the back of his legs across the uppermost cable. He flips over backwards into the Arabian Press, connecting and then hooking AWOL’s leg.

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The Tag Team Champion kicks out just before the three.

Mayne: Oh come on AWOL. If you didn’t come into this match with your heart in it then don’t bother fighting at all. In fact, just kill yourself now and save everyone the trouble.

Steward: I wholeheartedly endorse the latter part of that statement.

A flabbergasted Craven crawls up behind AWOL, sits him on the canvas and then grabs the Tag Champion’s arm. He folds it over behind his head, applying an overhead arm lock variation. The aggression in Craven is upped a notch as he begins delivering punches to AWOL’s completely exposed ribcage. He only stops when the official demands it and threatens him with a disqualification.

Now Max directs all of his focus to the submission, twisting AWOL’s arm at an angle it just shouldn’t go. The referee turns his attention from Max’s questionable tactics to trying to find out whether AWOL gives or not. The Big Crazy Bastard is vehemently opposed to submission, shaking his head and grinding his teeth as he tries to get up.

Mayne: Why does he even bother?

Katie: Because he loves torturing us with his same, repetitive matches.

To the delight of many AWOL has reached his feet only to be kicked to the crease of the knee. He’s brought right back down to a kneeling base, Max exerting all his pressure on the submission once again. Perhaps it was over confidence or the fact that Max didn’t think to take into account AWOL’s sheer strength, whatever the reason, Craven is sent flipping over the back of his opponent.

AWOL ducks forward and uses all his mite to pull Max over his shoulders and down to the canvas, breaking the hold. Craven rolls forward across the ring, ending up on his feet then falling into the ropes. The Big Crazy Bastard stands up and delivers a swift kick to Craven’s ribs before shooting him off across the ring.

Max charges into the opposite ropes and ricochets off into a spinning powerslam. No, wait, Max grabbed the top rope preventing falling into AWOL’s clutches. As a result AWOL swings around and falls to his back, having nothing to show for his troubles. Craven tries to take advantage, leaping to the middle rope and springing off. He twists in mid-air only to be caught by a now upright AWOL and spun around into the powerslam.

Mayne: YOUCH!

Katie: I’m absolutely, positively, SHOCKED. AWOL did something productive.

Billy: I’m equally as stunned.

AWOL hooks the leg as the official makes the count.

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Craven’s shoulder evades the canvas allowing him to evade defeat.

The intense Big Crazy Bastard seems to be finding his footing as he grabs Max by the wrist and rolls him to his feet. A dazed Craven is pulled to an upright base then yanked forward into a front chancery. AWOL hoists him up into the air and holds him upside down for several seconds, going for a stalling vertical suplex.

Craven does not remain in this suspended state for long. He twists his body, slipping out of AWOL’s clutches then landing on his feet behind his back. He then leaps into the air and dropkicks AWOL to the upper back, knocking the Big Crazy Bastard forward into the ropes.

He falls against them for support as Max now leaps directly at him. That’s when AWOL reaches out, catches Max across the chest and delivers a standing STO that puts Craven down viciously to the canvas. Max grabs at his kidneys and rolls across the ring, grunting and groaning from the force of that last maneuver.

Mayne: I just started to feel queasy, which means that I either ate some bad guacamole, or that AWOL is on the offensive.

Katie: Your not the only one feeling ill, and for once it’s not because I just watched a Stacy Kissinger promo.

Max continues to grip his lower back, especially as he tries to straighten himself into an upright position. He gets both feet under him just as AWOL barrels out of the ropes and delivers a big boot with such incredible force that it sends Max into a full back flip. The crowd grimaces, their faces twisting at the sight and sound of the kick possibly shattering Max’s jaw.

Billy: Good heavens, did you hear that crunch?

Katie: Yes, I never knew celery sticks were so loud.

Mayne: I’m not talking about the vegetable platter your eating, I’m talking about the kick on Craven’s jaw.

Steward: Oh great. I was enjoying my meal and then you had to go and mention Craven. I can’t finish the rest of this now.

After the face breaking kick Craven lies motionless across the canvas. He twitches every few seconds, his muscles spasming thanks to the significant brain damage inflicted. A “holy shit” chant has actually commenced from the crowd as AWOL stumbles into the ropes, overcoming by an amalgamation of emotions. The official stoops over Craven, checking whether he’s still alert or not, when he doesn’t get a response of any kind, he stands up and calls for the bell.

Mayne: It’s over? Just like that?

Steward: You act like you wanted it to go on longer. I for one am thankful it ended quicker than a Katelyn Buehler orgasm.

The fans find themselves in shock as the official grabs AWOL by the wrist and lifts his arm up high, inferring that he is victorious. How? By technical knock out. The kick was delivered with such force that it rendered Craven unconscious. The only semblance of life that remains is the now wide, glazed over eyes.

Steward: AWOL knocked him out? Did Craven get a whiff of his jock strap or something?

Mayne: I think he kicked him really hard or something, I don’t know, I’ve already forgotten. I was thinking of how long Katelyn’s orgasm lasted when WE had sex.

Katie: It was probably shorter than Verne Troyer’s penis.

As AWOL is informed that the match has been stopped instead of celebrating he pulls the official around and connects with an open hand palm strike right to his cheek. The shot is delivered with such force that it not only rings the official’s bell, but it puts a crack in it.

Billy: I think AWOL might have been a little too rough with that playful slap.

Katie: I hardly think AWOL is capable of being playful.

A huge red welt is already forming on the referee’s cheek as AWOL turns his focus towards Craven. Somehow, even with half the functionality in his brain, Max crawls into one of the corners, propping himself against it. His instinct betrayed him, leaving Craven susceptible to the ensuing onslaught. AWOL comes barreling in and drives his boot straight into Max’s temple.

Mayne: And another kick.

Katie: Something tells me we’re going to see a lot more. Kicks and punches are the only moves those in IWC seem to know.

Max’s head hangs through the ropes, drool seeping from the corner. The Big Crazy Bastard leans over the cables, not even looking at Craven, nor the crowd. He looks off into space, his expression more distant than Craven’s and for entirely different reasons. AWOL grabs Craven’s hair, sits him up in the corner and then takes off into the ropes once more.

Katie: Told ya.

A SECOND face wash connects to Max’s skull. Craven begins to convulse at this point, as if he’s going into a seizure related to this head trauma. Before he can be rushed to an area hospital, Max is hit with a THIRD running face wash from AWOL.

Steward: This is starting to border on the point of overkill.

Mayne: I’m sorry, but part of me just can’t help but to be entertained by Max’s suffrage. What? I like to see a man in pain, is there something wrong with that?

Katie: Of course not, Dammar.

AWOL now rushes in and delivers a FOURTH face wash, this one even more brutal than the last. Craven slumps in the corner as the Big Crazy Bastard backs across the ring, breaking his chilling silence by demanding the use of a microphone.

ARMY OF ONE

The fiery intensity of AWOL can not be extinguished. His violent mood swing continues to rage out of control as he takes the mic into his hand. The Big Crazy Bastard, snarling lips, bloodshot eyes and all steps to the center of the ring, standing just beside the traumatized body of Max Craven.

AWOL: Generation NOW, I’m only just getting started boys….

A loud reaction is heard from the crowd as a result of this announcement. They can clearly count on some more AWOL insanity.

AWOL: I’m not satisfied with kicking Craven’s ass, and I’m not leaving until I am SATISFIED. So if you want a war I’m more than happy to oblige. Bring yourselves out here and let’s start round 2!

Somehow the reception gets even louder.

Mayne: Okay, I said it before and I’ll say it again. AWOL is a complete and utter nincompoop. He’s challenging every member of Generation Now to a match…..right here…..in that ring…..ummmm, yeeeeeeaaaah, nincompoop.

Katie: Stop using the word “nincompoop!”

Mayne: I’ll try, but it’s a tough habit to break.

Katie: If you keep saying it your habit won’t be the only thing that gets broken.

Speaking of broken, AWOL is clearly intent on breaking some more bones here tonight. After everything he’s been subjected to at the hands of Generation Now, AWOL is desperate for some revenge and immediate gratification. The microphone is tossed out of the ring and AWOL begins to pace, allowing Max to roll out of the ring, giving ample space for new bodies. Instead of having the pleasure of his challenge being answered, AWOL is subjected to the sight of Too Magnificent, Simon Cagero, Johnny Kingdom and Daniel Ackart headed towards the ring.

Billy: Now it all makes sense. The rest of the Motherfuckin’ Empire coming out here to give themselves a numbers advantage over Generation Now.

Katie: Yeah, like Johnny Kingdom’s crippled ass is gonna be much help. I think AWOL would get more use out of Stacy Kissinger, than he would that bald bastard.

Mayne: Heh, Katie is alluding to the fact that Kingdom is suffering some undisclosed injuries resulting from that attack by Jackson Adams several weeks ago.

Despite his possible nagging injuries Kingdom slips through the ropes into the ring ready to fight on AWOL’s side. Simon, Too Magnificent and Ackart follow suit, the four men converging around their partner. To their surprise AWOL does not look very happy to see them. Simon tentatively reaches out and takes the microphone from AWOL’s hand, speaking up on behalf of his team.

Simon: AWOL, sweetheart, if your going to war your gonna need an army. That’s the purpose of the Motherfuckin’ Empire, chief, to have your back especially when under enemy fire. Are these war analogies striking a cord, or are they sending you back into PTSD?

The mood lightening comment has no effect on the stoic AWOL.

Cagero: Whatever…..if your gonna fight Generation Now tonight, we’re gonna be right here beside you blow for bloody blow…..

Without so much as a second thought AWOL reaches out and grabs the microphone straight from Simon’s clutches, returning it to his crusty lips.

AWOL: I don’t need YOU!

Cagero, Ackart, Too Magnificent and Kingdom are all taken aback by this statement.

AWOL: I want Generation Now and your NOT gonna stand in my way.

No more insight is given into AWOL’s plans or motivations. He drops the microphone, tears through his teammates and marches straight up the ramp towards the backstage area. Presumably he’s off to find the remnants of Generation Now and corner them in an area where there won’t be quite so much outside interference.

Mayne: Things finally getting interesting. AWOL just totally DISSED his homies.

Katie: Thank Goddess, I didn’t think so much suck could be in the ring at one time.

Billy: Apparently you’ve never seen Hornswoggle vs. Chavo Gurrerro wearing a cow suit.

Katie: Don’t give me nightmares.

Cagero and Kingdom shrug in one another’s directions, not sure what to make out of AWOL’s attitude and actions.

Christian: It’s about tiiiiiiimmmmee….

The Motherfuckin’ Empire and the unwraps their minds from around AWOL’s confusing antics and set to envelop a new focal point. Christian Savior steps to the stage, microphone in hand, shoulders blingin’ with title gold.

Mayne: Oh shew, I thought I was going to fall asleep there for a second but Christian’s voice perked me right back up.

Katie: Sick.

Mayne: That’s not what I meant by PERKED, it’s not what I meant. Stop looking at me like that.

As if the Motherfuckin’ Empire didn’t have enough on their mind now their forced to include Christian into their thoughts.

Christian: Actually, it’s a little pass due. I expected an implosion within your ranks far, FAR sooner. I mean, how much EGO can one group contain?

The jeers are now almost deafening, yet somehow Christian is able to speak over this defamation.

Christian: The fact that it’s taken this long for the cracks to start forming is rather surprising. But you know what surpasses such a surprise, an even bigger one. Like, saaaaayyy, Christian Savior leaving 2 For 1 Special with the IWC World Heavyweight Title in hand.

Now the crowd is going for the throat as Christian lifts the stolen IWC belt from his shoulder into the air.

Savior: Of course I’m no stranger to grabbing headlines….

Cagero: Don’t you mean stealing titles?

Christian tries not to be knocked from his perch.

Christian: As opposed to losing them a week after winning them?

Cagero tries to save face.

Savior: Anyway, speaking of being THE IWC Champion, and the responsibilities that come with it, I wanted to make a challenge. That’s right, I’m making TWO challenges in ONE night!

As if the crowd didn’t already have ENOUGH cause for dread.

Christian: And to get myself ready to face Jake Starr should he answer my challenge, I might as well as get the easier challenge out of the way first. So Too Magnificent, I know your always looking for a fight…

The camera settles on a nodding Too Magnificent, attention finally drawn to his Pittsburgh Penguins jersey. He rubs his hands together, thinking about the violent uses he’ll get out of them when they lock on the Rising Phoenix.

Savior: Right here in front of your friends and family, in front of yoooooourrr HOMETOWN…

The crowd pops and pops loudly for their sole bond with Too Magnificent.

Christian: You’ll get the honor of competing in my tune up match… you get to be the IWC World Champion’s sparring partner. Because that’s all your good at, your no more than a training dummy. You’ll never be able to actually take the Cartel Title away from me. The athletes in this city never bring home gold. They’re just like Ben Roethlisberger, washed up has-beens with pending sexual abuse charges.

Too Magnificent merely chuckles to keep from flipping out.

Savior: So how about we go ahead and we get your Cartel Title challenge….if you can even call it that….out of the way FIRST so I’ll be all warmed up in time to face Starr for MY IWC Championship.

Before the crowd even has time to react to the feces spewed from Christian’s mouth, Too Magnificent takes the mic and gives a prompt response.

Too Magnificent: Right here….right now….in front of my PEOPLE!?! YOU GOT IT!

The building rumbles with applause.

Too Magnificent: Cause I’m ready to make some history here in Pittsburgh PA!

Now the foundation is even shaken.

Too Magnificent: I’ve waited six fuckin’ years for this, I’m not about to let these people, my teammates, and myself, down.

Christian: Much like all the sports franchises here in Pittsburgh, you make comments you don’t have the talent to back up.

Too Magnificent: I guess we won’t have to wait to find out. Step down that ramp, into this ring, and we’ll give all these fans a sports moment they can be proud of.

Too Magnificent’s statements receive a standing applause from the fans, overwhelmed by the prospect of seeing him win the Cartel Championship here live and NOW. Christian is amused by their reaction, but more so entertained by the prospect of shutting them up.

Christian: Your really setting up yourself for a huge….

Too Magnificent: No, the time for you to stand out here gabbing about your stolen titles, and warm up matches, and all that mother fucking bull is over. Nobody wants to hear it. All anyone wants to see here on my home turf is Too Magnificent walking away with the IWC Cartel Championship held HIGH above his head. So no more gabbing, no more bragging, no more talking period, bring yourself down here and bring it on.

The fans are at a fevered pitch as Too Magnificent lays out the challenge to Christian, who is almost TOO eager to accept.

Savior: Fine. First you, then Starr. Let’s get it over with.

Savior marches down the ramp coveting both titles, about to risk one of them in this sure to be grueling confrontation. Just as the crowd squeals joyously at the prospect of witnessing this long awaited match up….. Master of Puppets……hits the PA system and drastically alters their tune. Christian pauses at ringside, head whipping towards the stage where one Dan Douglas is now standing. The Chairman hasn’t come alone though, he’s joined by several members of the Five Star Society, Porno Lad, BFG and Robin Brooks amongst them. Hurse stands out like a sore thumb, solemnly hanging his head and twisting his foot against the stage.

Mayne: Look, lookie…..

Katie: Do I have to?

Billy: YES. It’s Porno Lad, Brooks, and the Chairman of the Board, Dan Douglas. It’s like the Justice League, and I’m not talking the shitty Smallville version either.

Before any speculation can be raised as to the motivations behind their arrival, Dan Douglas makes his intentions as clear as crystal.

Douglas: NO! This match for the Cartel Title IS NOT happening now….

Boos.

Dan: Believe it or not, Christian, YOUR not the boss around here, YOU don’t call the shots….I DO.

Christian’s eyebrow twitches as he tries to repress his anger.

Douglas: And I think you need to be reminded of this, especially after your actions over the past few weeks. So you know what, tonight, you will defend your Cartel Championship, and you will defend it against Too Magnificent. But you won’t be fighting in just any match, no…..too simple….you’ll be facing Too Magnificent in a TRASHCANS ARE LEGAL match for the Cartel Title.

The eruption from the fans is almost loud enough to pop every ear drum in the building. Douglas shivers, not use to being cheered.

Mayne: Huh? Why is Douglas doing this to Christian? What’s with the punishment?

Steward: Someone is on an ego trip….what, why are you looking at me? I was talking about Douglas.

Billy: Oooooooh.

Porno Lad whispers into Douglas’ ear as the President continues his surprising speech.

Dan: And that match will take place LATER tonight. Right now, before things have the chance to spiral even further out of control I’m ORDERING you, Christian, to go to my office and wait there.

Christian mouths the words “ordering me” out of sheer shock. After determining that Douglas is being sincere, Christian shakes his head and starts up the ramp to the backstage area. Strangely, for once, he’s following orders, giving Douglas the benefit of the doubt despite his anti-Savior announcements. The two exchange a stern glare as Christian passes. His attention then shifts to the broad smirk on Porno Lad’s face, causing him to sneer as he storms to the backstage area.

Porno Lad: Grandma-fuckin’ Empire, don’t think we’ve forgotten about you…

The four men in the ring perk up at the botched reference to their team.

Porno Lad: Granted it would be such a relief if we DID forget you ever existed, but we’re not lucky enough to have early stage Alzheimer’s. Although you should be forgotten after the Five Star Society has thoroughly embarrassed you time and time again, you just keep popping up like herpes. And I’m sure you, Simon, know a few things about herpes.

Simon rolls his eyes.

Porno Lad: If you guys are so gunho about fighting tonight then far be it for the Five Star Society to stand in the way. Daniel Ackart, I seem to remember a certain triple threat match you were slated to compete in here tonight.

Ackart nods.

Porno Lad: Well Brooks has graciously volunteered the services of her man servant Hurse, so that triple threat match between you, Hurse, and whoever that bleached blond tart is, starts right now.

The crowd squeals as Ackart begins to limber up, unconcerned with the bout ahead. Brooks yanks Hurse by the ear and then slaps him on the bottom to get him going, sending him off to compete in what promises to be an exciting confrontation.

Mayne: It’s official. After the break, Daniel Ackart will compete against Hurse and Blake Mason. How exciting. Oh wait, I got that backwards. How depressing!

Katie: The thought of these three fighting each other seriously has me holding a razor to my wrists right now.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

The ULTIMATE dance machine

BLAKE MASON VS. DANIEL ACKART VS. HURSE

The show comes back live with action already unfolding. The ring is emptied, save for two athletes colliding, Daniel Ackart and Hurse. The Master of Control tastes the right hand of Ackart, and then is forced to swallow another. He falls against the ropes looking nearly devoid of conscious thought.

Mayne: We’re back, and I wish I could say we were starting off by putting our best foot forward.

Katie: Daniel Ackart and Hurse fighting one on one? No, that’s definitely not the best foot. That’s like the smelly foot, with bunions and cracked nails, and that funky mold between the toes.

Billy: This match started during the break but was set up right before we went to commercial. Apparently Robin VOLUNTEERED Hurse to fight in this three way, tossing the Motherfuckin’ Empire a bone.

Steward: And not the type of bone that Daniel Ackart thinks it is.

Ackart delivers a chop with such force that it nearly caves Hurse’s sternum. He whimpers from the shot before being popped under the jaw with a straight right hand. The blow sends him spiraling into the turnbuckle, the debuting Ackart backing into the diagonal corner.

Mayne: Ackart, known for his Billy Mayne impersonations backstage, where he PRETENDS to be as cool and controversial as me, is making his IWC in ring debut tonight and doing pretty good against Hurse. Which doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.

Katie: I’m like the complete antithesis of shocked.

Ackart rushes across the ring, building some momentum, looking to hit a move that will dazzle the audience and give him some credibility in their eyes. He leaps forward only for Hurse to step out of the turnbuckle and slip around his hip. Ackart is pulled over into the school boy pin.

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Daniel not only kicks out, but wraps his legs around the arm that hooks his thigh. He rolls over backwards across the top of his head and shoulders, flipping Hurse into the cross arm breaker submission. His legs grapevine Hurse’s shoulder, causing him tremendous grief and to cry out in agony.

Katie: Listen to these tools, their worse here in Pittsburgh than they are in Manhattan. I can’t believe their impressed by such a ridiculous counter.

Mayne: These fans are always turned on by the ridiculous. Otherwise they wouldn’t watch the IWC period. Speaking of ridiculous, wasn’t their supposed to be a third competitor in this match?

Katie: A third what now? Ohhhhh, you mean that former, no good, rejected stalker of mine, Blake Mason. He’s probably off masturbating to the hair doll he made of me.

Mayne: You say that like it’s strange.

Although Mason has yet to reach the ring, the action is already getting exciting in his absence.

A groaning Parkwood begins to twist to his side, trying to stand up at this point. He gets both feet beneath him, still stooped forward and trapped in the hold. To the surprise of everyone, the debuting Ackart in particular, Hurse flips forward into a jackknife style cover. His arm may still be grapevined but he’s able to complete the forward roll that puts Ackart on the back of his shoulders.

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Daniel kicks out and in the process rolls away from his opponent for the evening. Both men rush towards their feet and it’s Hurse who makes the first move. He goes for a running forearm only to be caught ribs first against Ackart’s shoulder. Daniel snaps back into the bridging Northern Lights suplex.

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Hurse kicks out, getting a shoulder free from the canvas.

Mayne: Is this match even supposed to be legally getting started right now? I thought there had to be three…THREE combatants in a triple threat match.

Katie: Oh I’m sure that Blake is somewhere backstage quivering and weeping at the thought of coming out here knowing that I, THE Goddess of Desire will be mere inches away.

Billy: I have the satisfaction of that feeling every other week.

Steward: If you inch any closer to me I will file a lawsuit.

After dropping out of the bridge Daniel reaches out, grabs Hurse’s wrist and rolls over backwards. He pulls Hurse over onto his knees and then stands up at his side, applying an arm ringer submission. Hurse slaps his palm over his face, groaning from the agony of this submission. He balls up his fist and tries to swing at Ackart but Daniel just wrenches on the arm, bringing his opponent back down to his knees.

Hurse’s whole body trembles as he forces his way up then cartwheels over across the canvas. He ends up on his feet before being flipped over by the wrist onto his back. Ackart then drops down and wraps his legs around the forearm and wrist of his opposition, applying a modified top wrist lock.

Mayne: This sickens me. Not only does Daniel Ackart rip me off backstage with his “quasi” controversial commentating style, but he also tries to one up me by “implying” that he has better wrestling skills. We all know that I’m a better commentator AND better wrestler than Ackart, and I’ve never even competed in a ring.

Katie: Uhhh, are you forgetting that match involving mackerel?

Billy: Why must you torture me with the cold, hard, unbearable truth.

Steward: Because making you miserable is the only thing that keeps me awake during these matches.

Ackart really puts the pressure on the hold, clamping down upon Hurse’s arm with all his leg strength. Hurse begins to rock back and forth, trying to find another quick escape that will FINALLY free his arm from this torment.

He suddenly swings his hips and rolls over to his knees, Ackart’s legs still clamped around his arm. The surprisingly quick and nimble Hurse then attempts another jackknife cover variation. Just as he begins to flip forward Daniel sits up and catches his opponent around the waist, placing him in a roll up pin. Hurse flails around on his back with the creases of his knees positioned over the seated Daniel’s shoulders.

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Hurse kicks out by rolling over backwards to his knees. He then lunges forward only for the seated Ackart to duck the inbound arm, slip under it and catch him around the bicep, forcing him down into the fujiawara armbar.

Mayne: Meh’. You call THAT a counter?

Yet again Hurse is brought to his breaking point, being thoroughly humiliated by Daniel and his wide array of submission holds. All Hurse can do is shimmy across the canvas and reach out, grabbing the bottom rope to break the hold.

The official informs Ackart that he must break the submission or forfeit the match. A grin graces Ackart’s face as he rises to his feet and bows towards the fans chanting his name.

Katie: I bet Ackart’s use to bending over, it’s probably how he got his position in the Motherfuckin’ Empire.

Ackart continues to reciprocate the crowd’s response before turning towards Hurse who steps out of the ropes, catching him with an unexpected jaw breaker.

Daniel’s head snaps back as his palms embrace his potentially fractured jaw. Somehow he remains on his feet despite the fact that his legs are starting to give out beneath him. Hurse, finding one move that proved useful, attempts to utilize it to his advantage once again. He steps forward, takes Ackart around the back of the head and begins to drop into a second jaw breaker. This time Daniel swings free, around the arm and traps the bicep, trying to force Hurse down into yet another arm lock.

Mayne: Is this all he can do in the ring? He’s as one dimensional wrestling as he is commentating.

Before the hold could be applied and possibly spell doom for Parkwood, he reaches out with his free hand, grabs Ackart’s ankle and rips it out from under him. Daniel collapses face first into the ring, still holding onto Hurse’s wrist in the process. As a result he pulls Hurse down into a forward roll, ending on his knees. He turns quickly, sitting on the back of Ackart’s neck and then wrapping both arms around his opponent’s waist. The crowd screams as Hurse stands up, pulling Daniel along into perfect position for the Sanitizer, aka the styles clash.

Billy: It’s so weird watching Hurse compete in his own match at full strength.

Katie: Doesn’t make much of a difference. He’s still horrible. Far worse than the other jobber who was scheduled to compete in this match. Actually, no, they’re both at about the same level of suck.

The reaction from the crowd only grows louder as Hurse lifts Ackart up into the air and hangs him upside down. Just as he begins to trap the shoulders Ackart drives the heel of his boot directly into Hurse’s eye. The blow not only threatens to damage Hurse’s vision but it also breaks his hold.

Daniel falls to the canvas, freed from the Sanitizer. He now works quickly, wedging hands to Hurse’s ribs then shoving him back into the cables. Hurse hits the ropes, ricochets off and comes right back into the waiting arms of his opposition. Ackart catches him around the waist, setting up for the Northern Lights Suplex. However, this time Hurse has a counter. He twists his body out of the predicament, turns his back to Ackart and reaches up taking him around the neck.

The crowd screams as Hurse drags Ackart along towards the turnbuckle, setting up for the Disinfectant.

Mayne: He’s going for that contra code thingy.

Katie: Stop adding the word “thingy” to the end of every move.

Billy: I think it’s part of my obsessive compulsive disorder.

Hurse steps up the ropes and flips back in order to hit his sitout sliced bread only for Ackart to grab the top rope and avoid it. He shrugs him off, causing Hurse to have nothing to show for his efforts as he lands on his feet behind Ackart’s back. Hurse looks to make something out of nothing though, leaping forward, taking Daniel around the waist then falling back into a roll up. He ends up seated on the creases of Ackart’s knees, folding him up beneath him.

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Ackart not only kicks out but he hooks both legs around Hurse’s ankle in the process, trapping it in perfect position. Hurse crashes face first into the canvas with Daniel standing up behind him, lifting his leg into an ankle lock.

Mayne: I think Pat Evans is about to sue someone.

Katie: His wardrobe designer?

Billy: That would make the most sense, but I’m referring to the fact that Daniel is stealing one of his holds.

Hurse cries out from the viciousness of the hold that has him teetering on the brink of submission. He lifts his palm into the air, moments from tapping out before he makes a bold decision. He flips over to his back, bends his knees and brings Ackart down into a stooped forward position. He puts his foot down on the canvas, Ackart completely bent forward and trying to lift the ankle back into the air. Hurse now stands up, stepping over the back of Daniel’s head and hooking both arms.

He is moments from delivering the Lysol Injection pedigree. Before Ackart can counter he’s planted face first into the canvas, Hurse hitting one of his more devastating trademark moves.

Mayne: Hurse finally hit one of his thirteen billion finishers.

Katie: Don’t make such a big deal out of it. Ackart will kick out in three seconds anyway.

Billy: Oh yeah, forgot about the lack of clean finishes.

Steward: I know, it’s like every match has to have a dusty finish, or some type of wacky shenanigans at ringside or else the world will explode and….

Suddenly a cane smacks Katie right between the shoulder blades. The fans go nuts at the sight of Blake Mason swinging for the fences. Steward is knocked forward out of her chair and onto the announce table.

Mayne: Whoa…whoa….whhhoooooaaa!

Steward looks up absolutely petrified as Mason swings for her skull. Thankfully, for the Goddess’ sake, she rolls out of the way, causing the staff to crack over the hardened surface of the table.

Billy: Blake Mason….BLAKE MASON….is jumping Katie Steward. What the hell is wrong with you? Are you out of your flipping gord man!?!

The words were taken out of Katie’s mouth by the cane that almost shattered her spine. Despite the trauma inflicted on her back, Steward is on her feet and running. Mason could care less about the triple threat match he was booked in, instead his focus is on catching Katie and punishing her.

Mayne: Run Goddess, RRRRUUUUUNNN!

Steward, who is all out of sorts, rolls into the ring, believing it to be the safest place. Mason has no problem following her right into the squared circle, still nipping at her heels. He reaches out, his hand slipping through the locks of her hair before he runs into a brick wall separating him from the Goddess. Hurse rushes in and almost levels Mason with a lariat, knocking him to the canvas.

Billy: I never thought I’d be uttering these words. But thank God for Hurse. He not only saved Steward, but he’s picking up right where he left off at 2 For 1 Special.

Katie rolls to the outside of the ring, dropping to the mats where she writhes in agony. The shot from the Singapore cane is finally catching up with her and having devastating effects on her body. The official looks through the ropes, shouting at Steward to stay out of the ring. The Master of Control, doing the bidding of his masters, puts the boot to Mason’s sternum again and again. He then transfers his focus back to Ackart, who is trying to overcome the pedigree he suffered moments earlier.

Hurse steps in and over his head, once again hooking the arms and setting up for the Lysol Injection. Just as he is about to leap into the air, the Singapore Cane cracks him right in the skull. Blake swings the staff with all his strength and knocks Hurse through a loop. He collapses to his back with Ackart flipping forward into what at first appears to be the jackknife cover. To the shock of the crowd though he doesn’t hook any legs, instead he hooks Hurse’s arm and pins it in the Anaconda Vice.

Mayne: Now Mason just caved in Hurse’s skull with that cane and Ackart is trapping him in….whatever the hell he calls that thing….I’m too emotional to check facts, and I’m too lazy.

The barely conscious Hurse begins to slap the canvas, unable to deal with this type of punishment after suffering that shot from the cane. The official turns just in time to see the submission, prompting him to call for the bell, concluding this contest.

Billy: It’s over…..it’s done? Ackart wins his debut? This is worse than having pig blood dumped on you during the senior prom. I’m about to go all Carrie up in here.

Mason cleared from the referee’s line of sight with the weapon in hand, dropping to the mats and continuing to pursue Steward who is now crawling up the ramp. She looks back at Mason, who is honing in upon her. She grimaces, reaches her feet and begins to rush up the ramp as fast as her injured body will allow her.

Mayne: Stay away from her Mason, stay away from her!

Blake shows a blatant disregard for the match he was scheduled to compete in, not even glancing back to see who picked up the win. His sights are set on Steward, who appears as petrified as she is in pain. She hobbles through the curtains with Blake, cane in hand, following right behind. Inside of the ring Ackart stands on the middle rope, his music blaring through the speakers and many of the fans in Pittsburgh chanting his name. Hurse lies in the center of the ring, gripping his injured skull and cursing beneath his breath.

ON SHAKY GROUND

A bag of ice is pressed to Craven’s eye, trying to keep the swelling down. Although he has yet to recuperate 100% from that knock out earlier in the evening, followed by a vicious mugging from the Big Crazy Bastard, he sits alone on a chair refusing medical treatment.

Evermore: Yeesh, you don’t look too good.

Max takes the ice away from his eye and squints to make out the shape of his tag team partner’s face. Evermore steps in appearing somewhat concerned.

Axl: He really gave you a beatin out there didn’t he?

Instead of responding verbally Max just shrugs.

Max: It happens, A LOT, around here especially.

Evermore: True. But you probably could have avoided this one.

Craven: How? Hockey padding? Safe room? Sacrificial lamb to appease the Gods?

Axl: Uhhh, those might have worked, but I think the most surefire method to avoid AWOL’s wrath, is to stop associating with Generation Now.

Craven gives Axl a deadpan expression.

Evermore: Seriously, what gives? Why are you hangin with the likes of Psycho and Riggs. Did you suddenly forget how much you hate those guys, or how they tried to END my career. Riggs just took my N.H.B title and yet you two are buddy, buddy now? Where’s the loyalty?

Although he’s slightly concussed Craven attempts to give a coherent explanation.

Max: I might not endorse their actions or even like them but at least Generation Now is accomplishing something around here. I’m sorry bro, but as Sex & Violence we’ve just been spinning our wheels getting absolutely nowhere.

Axl: Did you forget all about those contract perks I arranged? Perks that would guarantee us both World and Tag Team Title shots? I was getting business done.

Craven: Haven’t you figured it out yet Axl? It’s gonna take a lot more than backstage wheeling and dealing to accomplish anything in this company.

Evermore: Heeeellooooo, are we talking about the same federation? Politicing is pretty much the ONLY way to get things done in wrestling. Hasn’t Paul Levesque taught you anything?

Max: That’s all about to change.

The prophetic statement intrigues Evermore.

Craven: Like I said, I might despise Riggs and Adams as people, but I wholeheartedly support their cause. There needs to be change in wrestling, in the ring and backstage. With Generation Now, I think we can finally start to make some changes around here.

Evermore: Don’t kid yourself. But hey, if you want to go on believing this fairy tale then I’m not gonna burst your bubble. Keep on believin’. There is one thing I need from you though.

Craven presses the ice to his face, annoyed that Evermore would even dare ask for a favor.

Axl: I assume that you heard about Jon Rich stabbing me in the back.

He nods.

Evermore: Well, in order for me to get some payback on him and his skeezer, I thought the two of us could reunite and…..

Jackson: I’m afraid that’s not gonna happen.

Before Craven could respond Adams steps in and puts a hand on his shoulder, speaking on his behalf.

Adams: Max passed his initiation earlier tonight, making him a full fledged member of Generation Now. Which means that he doesn’t have time for the likes of you. He has to devote himself entirely too our cause.

Evermore smirks before glaring at Craven, waiting for HIS answer. Max just hangs his head, unresponsive, unable to make eye contact with his long time tag team partner. Axl’s grin begins to fade.

Axl: So, that’s it then?

Craven continues to veer his eyes from Evermore’s face.

Adams: Yes, it is. Now run along.

The Submission Champion uses his fingers to pantomime two running legs. However, Axl lingers for a few moments, waiting for some kind of response out of Max. When it becomes obvious that Craven has turned his back on him, he has no other alternative but to walk away and walk away alone.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Behold the power of the ULTIMATE plushie!

FALLING IN LINE

Clearly Christian is none too thrilled to find himself in the metaphorical principle’s office. He paces impatiently past Dan Douglas’ desk, still coveting both the IWC and the Cartel Championship belts. The gold graces both shoulders but serve as scarlet letters for the Rising Phoenix, making him a marked man.

Douglas: I appreciate you following orders for once.

Through the door steps the IWC Chairman Dan Douglas, followed by the ruthless number one contender, Porno Lad. The pear saunters into the office completely unprepared for what awaits them.

Christian: Cut the shit Dan.

Douglas goes white and Porno Lad does a noticeable double take.

Savior: You knew I wasn’t a company man when you put me on the payroll. You knew that I didn’t respond well to authority when you branded me the chosen one. You knew that we were going to butt heads on occasion, so I don’t know why, WHY your going on this power trip now and trying to SCREW with my career.

Dan overcomes his initial shock and tries to offer an intelligible response.

Douglas: I know all that, and I also know that if someone isn’t there to keep you in line then you’ll spiral COMPELTELY out of control. You take things too far Christian, and you don’t THINK before you DO. Like it or not, you need a handler my boy, and I’m the man holding the leash.

Now it’s Christian who’s reeling with shock.

Savior: WHOA! Back up the gravy train mister…..

Dan: You need to trust me, Christian. You need to trust that what I do, the decisions I make, are for your own good. I’m just trying to keep you from destroying your career.

Christian: I don’t need you to coddle me and hold me up to your bosom, DAN. I know the consequences and repercussions of my actions. So do me a favor and BUTT OUT.

If one were to measure Douglas’ blood with a thermometer it would be melting at this point.

Douglas: You listen and listen well, Christian. I’m still the President, I’m still YOUR boss. And if your actions are going to threaten MY company then I’m gonna be all up in your business. You need to be reminded of your role here Christian. I’M the one who holds your fate in the palm of his hand. That’s why I put you against Too Magnificent tonight and made it a trashcans are legal match. I’m showing you that if you deliberately disobey me, or bring HEAT down on me, then you, just like everyone else in this company, are gonna suffer the consequences.

With Porno Lad behind him Dan has the courage to take a few steps towards the abnormally quiet Christian.

Dan: You made me look like a fool, A FOOL in front of SCW. You made a complete mockery out of my vision of 2 for 1 Special, and worse yet, you FAILED to make good on the epic opportunity I gave you. Your failures and your actions reflect on me, ME, Christian. So if I’m suffering you had best believe your gonna suffer too.

Christian takes it all in with a grin on his face.

Christian: So that’s where we stand, huh? No more “equals,” now I’m just another servant to the all mighty Douglas?

Douglas: That’s not what…..

Christian: No, no, I’m glad your being honest for once, Dan. I’m glad your letting your true colors shine through. You see, for months I had this burning sensation in my lower back. I was wondering what’s been causing it, and it seemed to intensify each and every time I saw you hobnobbing with Porno Lad….

He gestures towards the Original Prankster, eliciting a sneer from the number one contender.

Savior:….and Sasha Drachewych. But now I know what that pain is. It’s the knife that you used to sacrifice me at the altar of SCW and Porno Puss.

Douglas: Hey now….

Christian: I see that I made the right decision when I had you and the rest of the Five Star Society thrown out of the building at 2 For 1 Special.

Porno Lad’s and Dan’s jaws almost hit the floor.

Savior: I’m not giving up this title and I’m not backing down from the challenge that I made to Jake Starr. If he shows up here tonight, so be it. I’ll send him back to SCW via a chauffeured ride in the back of an ambulance.

Dan is positively fuming.

Christian: I don’t care if my actions reflect poorly on you, and I sure as hell could care less about disrupting your title ambitions, Porno Lad. I DESERVE this IWC title. You knew what you were getting yourself into when you teamed with me, Dan, now it’s time for YOU to suffer the consequences.

Christian marches straight out of the office, bumping shoulders with Porno Lad as he passes. The Original Prankster turns to watch him leave, his skin crawling at this point.

Porno Lad: What the hell was that?

Just as Douglas got over the shock of his conversation with Christian now he finds himself in another argument, this time with his other hand picked competitor.

Porno Lad: You literally accomplished ZILCH! All you did was make things a hundred times worse.

Douglas: I’m trying to….

Porno Lad: I was promised THE perfect Paranoia for being a good little boy and not rocking the boat when it came to teaming up with SCW. If you can’t deliver on your end of the bargain then you neednt concern yourself with Christian’s actions, because I’ll be the one you have to keep your eye on.

Douglas looks like he’s swallowed a beach ball.

Porno Lad: You either deal with this whole IWC Championship fiasco before Paranoia, or you prepare to taste the heel of my boot. And let me warn you, the taste isn’t as sweet as you think it is.

After making things 100% crystal clear to Douglas, Porno Lad exits the dressing room in dramatic fashion. At this point Dan is beginning to second guess his return to the IWC.

“BAD” BILLY MITCHELL VS. PAT EVANS

The show returns live with Jon Rich’s entrance music blaring in the background. The camera holds an image of him standing behind the announce table slipping a headset over his ears. All the while Katelyn Buehler stands behind his back, soothing his shoulders with her touch.

Billy: The Billy Mayne show is back on the air, and as you can see, unless your blind, Jon Rich and the smoking hot Katelyn Buehler are joining me here on commentary.

Rich: She is smoking hot isn’t she? And you know the best thing about her? She’s allllll mine.

Jon plants himself in the vacant chair beside Billy while Katelyn takes a seat straight across her man’s lap.

Billy: Thanks for subbing in for Katie Steward. I was worried they were going to saddle me with Daniel Ackart as my co-commentator.

Jon: That’s a frightening thought. No need to thank us though….

Mayne: I must. Here, let me express my gratitude through an open mouth kiss with Katelyn.

Buehler puts a hand to Billy’s chest and pushes him back, puckered lips and all.

Rich: As I was saying before you made me vomit in my mouth, there’s no need to thank us because we were coming out here anyway to watch the next match.

Billy: Ah yes, it involves someone your very familiar with. Someone you double crossed at the pay-per-view.

Jon: Double crossed? More like gave him what he deserved. And yes, unfortunately I am familiar with him, the guy drove me nuts for months with his egocentric rants. It was sooo satisfying to finally shut his mouth with that superkick at 2 For 1 Special.

Mayne: It was almost as satisfying just watching it. Of course, I’m satisfied, mostly through self gratification, whenever Katelyn is on the screen.

Buehler gestures like she’s about to spew.

The lights of the arena begin to dim, drawing the attention of the crowd just as the faint howl of a distant wind begins to sweep through the speakers. High above the stage, the massive video-screen begins to glow a dull gold as the image brightens to reveal a setting sun. The slow opening chords to AC/DC’s “Shoot to Thrill” begin to echo through the speakers, drawing a few rousing cheers from the now-anxious fans, as the image on the screen pulls back to reveal a faded ‘Wanted’ poster nailed to a tree. Another guitar chord plays as the scene pushes in, revealing the wanted man as “Bad” Billy Mitchell. With the music building in the background, the Mitchell on the poster suddenly turns to face the crowd, his lips twisting into a brazen smirk as he lifts a gun-shaped hand to his lips and blows, causing the lights to cut out instantly.

PULL THE TRIGGER!!!!!

Rapid gunshots echo through the arena, the sounds booming in the speakers as bullet holes appear in the black screen, slowly spelling out the word “BAD”. One final shot causes the image to shatter like glass, the pieces falling away to reveal a fast-cut montage of Mitchell in past matches, celebrating with the crowd, or putting opponents away with the ‘Silver Bullet’. An eruption of silver-white pyrotechnics rips up through the stage, silhouetting the “American Outlaw” as he’s catapulted into the air through a hole in the steel, sending the already roaring crowd into a frenzied ovation. Picking up in the middle of the chorus, “Shoot to Thrill” thunders at full volume as the lights return in dazzling strobes and spotlights of gold. Still standing at center-stage, Mitchell spins in place a few times while throwing his arms out wide, causing the duster to billow around him. Planting his feet, he stops short and cocks one hand like a six-gun, slapping at the thumb while firing up into the rafters, causing small pyrotechnic explosions with each ‘shot’, sending the sparks raining down onto the fans. Finally bringing the ‘gun’ up to his lips, he blows the smoke off the barrel and slowly starts to lope down the ramp.

Shoot to Thrill
Play to Kill
Too many women
With too many pills, yeah!

Shoot to Thrill
Play to Kill
I got my gun at the ready
Gonna’ fire at will, yeah!

I’m gonna’ take you down
Oh, down, down, down
So don’t you fool around
I’m gonna’ pull it
Pull it…

PULL THE TRIGGER!!!!!

Moving from one side of the ramp to the other, Mitchell slaps at every single hand he sees, before making his way to one of the young women at ringside and crooking his finger, prompting her to lean over the guardrail. Looking to either side, Mitchell pulls his hat off and slips it on the woman’s head while leaning in and pressing a slow, sultry kiss onto her lips, drawing catcalls and wolf whistles from the rest of the crowd. Breaking away, Mitchell fans himself a little and clasps at his heart, before turning and rolling into the ring. Pushing to his feet, he crosses to one of the corners and mounts the middle rope, throwing up both hands with the ‘Bottoms Up!’ gesture, earning a deafening ovation from the fans. Bobbing his head in time to the beat, Mitchell leans his shoulders back and rolls them in time to the music, allowing the duster to slide slowly down his arms, revealing his rugged physique and drawing even more calls from the female fans. Pulling the coat loose, he lobs it to a ringside crewman before dropping back to the mat and using the ropes to stretch himself out as his music fades.

Mayne: Here comes the southern lothario, the man taking the wrestling world by storm, BAD Billy Mitchell.

Jon Rich: I guess he’s a big fan of Michael Jackson.

Billy: Want to see me moonwalk?

Jon: No.

Mayne: Awwww. Anyway, in singles competition Billy Mitchell has gone undefeated. Granted he’s only competed in one match thus far and that wasn’t much in the way of a challenge.

Rich: Not like tonight is gonna be any different.

Billy limbers up in the ring while making eyes with some of the foxy female fans in attendance. They blush when caught under his gaze. “Outsider” hits the speakers and turns Billy’s eyes from the lovely ladies to the stage. Occupying the entry way is Pat Evans, who looks incredibly cold and emotionless as he starts down the ramp. Clearly he has yet to recover from the magnitude of Rich’s betrayal at 2 For 1 Special. He tries to focus as he enters the ring, but thoughts of that double cross continue to haunt him, especially with Rich and Buehler at ringside.

Jon: Awwww, Evans looks a little shaken up, he’s all blue because he won’t get that Tag Title shot he’s tried to manipulate me into giving him.

Mayne: The most important word in that sentence being, TRIED, hahahahaha.

Rich: Stop laughing.

Billy: Yes sir.

Evans steps across the ring into the ropes, peering over them at the smirking Buehler and Rich. The two interlock lips much to Pat’s repulsion. The distraction proves detrimental to Evans, who is suddenly spun by the shoulder and clocked under the jaw with a right hand, followed by another, and another from Mitchell.

Mayne: Mitchell getting off to a hot start. And by hot, I mean momentum, I’m not talking about his looks.

Jon: Suuuuurrre you weren’t.

Mayne: Seriously, I wasn’t. I’m not attracted to Billy Mitchell at all.

Rich: Not even slightly?

Billy: Well…

Jon: I knew it.

Evans falls back against the ropes as Mitchell continues to pound his skull with right hand after right hand. A knee is driven into his ribs, doubling Pat over and putting him in perfect position for the front chancery. Billy backs to the center of the ring and tries to suplex Evans over only to find it blocked. Pat wraps his leg around Mitchell’s and prevents the move from connecting. He then shifts momentum by hoisting Billy into the air for his own suplex. Mitchell floats over though, landing behind Evans then wedging a shoulder to his spine.

He hoists Evans up for the back drop suplex only for Pat to flip in reverse. He lands right behind Mitchell then reaches down and picks the ankle, lifting it up into the air. The crowd rejoices as Billy tumbles forward and finds his leg trapped in the ankle lock.

Jon: Come on Billy. You call that wrestling. Evans would NEVER put me in that type of hold, NEVER!

Mayne: This match could end quicker than I thought, and with the opposite person winning.

Mitchell digs his claws into the ring and pulls himself towards the ropes, throwing an arm over the bottom one. The official steps in and starts a five count on the disgruntled Evans, who has lost all semblance of control. After a few seconds the official is forced to pry Evans off of the ankle. He steps back and cocks his fist as if about to take his frustrations out on the referee, who warns him against such action.

Rich: Go ahead, hit him Evans, hit him. Show me why I chose not to pick you as my partner, be the liability that I know you are.

Pat turns his focus back towards Mitchell but it may be too late. A kick to the gut doubles him over and now Billy wraps his arms around the neck, looking for the stunner. Evans surprises Billy however by shoving him off into the ropes. Mitchell spills through the cables and lands on his feet outside of the ring. As he attempts to get his balance Mitchell falls back against the apron, in perfect placement for Evans to take advantage.

He steps in, reaches through the ropes, grabs Billy’s arm and his neck then applies the Time to Go to Sleep. The modified Million Dollar Dream is locked in and Mitchell thrashes about trying to free himself.

Mayne: Another of Evans’ submissions locked in. I’m guessing it’s one of his big submissions too. I really don’t know because I’m not paid enough to follow stats. Measurements maybe, but not stats.

Jon: Yeah, he can go ahead and lock in this hold, not like it matters. I don’t think Pat has gotten a submission win since he forced Hurse to tap out in the summer of 83.

The crowd is screaming as Billy tries desperately to avail himself of this predicament. He wedges his feet to the apron and pushes himself up into the air, flipping back over the ropes and over Pat’s shoulder. He breaks the submission and in the process lands perfectly behind Evans. Pat quickly spins around only to have his ribs pressed to Billy’s shoulder. In a flash Mitchell heaves Evans into the air, twists and slams him down with the spinebuster.

Rich: There we go. We need to see more of that.

Katelyn giggles with delight and nibbles on the lobe of Rich’s ear. The slam has sent shockwaves of pain ripping through Pat’s body. He reaches for his kidneys as Mitchell grabs him by the creases of his knees and flips forward into the jackknife cover.

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2

Before the ref can reach three Evans is launching a shoulder from the canvas.

Mitchell rolls away but is promptly right back on his opponent. He takes Evans around the head and begins to drill him with right hand after right hand to the face. That’s before he pops up to his feet and delivers a series of stomps to the chest.

Mayne: Now comes the point in the match where we get the painstakingly long work over sequence.

Rich: Gotta love it, especially when Pat’s the one being worked over.

Billy takes Evans around the neck, leading him to his feet and then charging him across the ring. Before Pat can even think of countering he’s driven face first into the top turnbuckle pad. Before he even has time to recover he’s being spun around and charged into the opposite turnbuckle, his skull rammed against this one as well.

Evans twists so that his back is wedged to the corner as Mitchell hauls off and delivers a scintillating knife edge chop right across the sternum. Pat almost looses his footing, slouching in the corner and grabbing at his wounded chest. All the while Mitchell turns his back to his opponent, a costly error, in order to pantomime two firing pistols with the use of his fingers. He blows imaginary smoke from the barrels just as Evans steps out of the corner and hooks his arm, setting up for the Spinal Tap.

Mayne: He may be on the verge of hitting that one finishing move thingy that he does.

Jon: Well, there’s a first time for everything. I guess you can’t ALWAYS suck, unless your name is Billy Mayne>

Mayne: Exactly…..wait a minute.

The crowd squeals with anticipation of seeing the Spinal Tap unleashed. That is until Mitchell wedges his feet to the canvas and shoves both himself and Evans spine first into the turnbuckle. Pat hits the corner with such force that it causes him to release his opposition. Mitchell steps to the center of the ring, spins around and then gets a running start, charging right into an elbow.

Evans got his forearm up and put it right into Billy’s teeth. Mitchell staggers back rubbing at his possibly busted lip when Pat provides him even more pain to fret over. He steps out of the corner and delivers a forearm strike, followed by another, and then a third. Now Evans is just delivering forearm after forearm, on the verge of shattering Mitchell’s good looks.

Mayne: Have you ever seen such aggression out of Evans?

Jon: Ha. And yet the guy sat there and preached to me the virtues of remaining calm and collective. What a hypocrite. He can’t even stand by his own statements. And yet people wonder why I “betrayed” him. At least with Katelyn and the Five Star Society I know what I’m getting. They have a straightforward purpose that they follow instead of flip flopping every twenty seconds.

Now Evans delivers a chop with such force that it knocks Billy from his feet to the canvas. Mitchell rolls to his feet where Evans is waiting to deliver a straight jab under the jaw. Billy stumbles back into the ropes, bounces off and comes staggering back right into Evans who bends forward and catches his knees to his shoulder. Pat back drops Billy high into the air and eventually sends him crashing spine first into the ring.

Pat spins in a circle listening to the screeching crowd, all those endorsing every single one of his actions. He does not allow their support to distract him as he turns towards a struggling Mitchell. Billy is on his feet in spite of being hunched forward clutching at his kidneys.

Evans takes him by the wrist and yanks him forward, catching Billy under his arm then delivering a powerslam sideslam. He completes the move by hooking the leg for the pinfall.

1

2

Billy kicks out, rolling away from Evans in the process.

Mayne: Another near fall for Evans. I think he’s use to hearing that by now.

Jon: I’m pretty sure the word “near-fall” is synonymous with Pat Evans.

In spite of the kick out Evans refuses to let his strategy be derailed. He sits Mitchell up on the canvas then wraps his arms around the waist. Pat rises to his feet, dragging Mitchell along with a rear waistlock applied. He prepares to drop back and hit the German suplex only for Mitchell to blatantly deliver a mule kick right to the groin.

The crowd has a mixed reaction at the sight of his heel hitting Evans where the sun doesn’t shine. Pat doubles over, gripping at his crotch while Billy steps to his side, grabs one arm, forces it between his legs and then hooks the other. He hoists Evans up into a pumphandle before transitioning into a sit-out powerbomb.

Jon: It’s over….Evans about to do what he does best, and that’s LOOOOOOOSSSSSEE.

Mayne: You want to know what I do best?

Rich: I already know the answer….NOTHING.

Evans looks spent as Mitchell leans into the creases of his knees.

1

2

Pat kicks out, rolling to his side in the process. The calculating Mitchell rises to his feet, angered by Evans’ persistence. Nevertheless he grabs Pat’s legs, lifts them into the air and then stomps down into his stomach, ALMOST putting his boot south of the belt. The official gets on his case as Mitchell twists his foot back and forth, his heel grating against the abdomen.

Finally Mitchell breaks his foot away and steps back with a grin on his face. Some of the fans are actually applauding his flagrant violation of the rules, taking to his rebel mentality.

As soon as the official clears out of his way, Mitchell moves in, lifts Pat’s legs and again stomps down into his stomach. He lifts his foot and begins to stomp over and over again until the referee has to pull him back. He now threatens Billy with a disqualification should he employ such unscrupulous tactics once more.

Mitchell informs the referee that he’ll play by the rules but the second the official is out of his way he goes right back to his rule breaking ways. He lifts Evans’ legs into the air and then stomps down into his mid-section for a third time. On this exchange his tactics back fire, Evans grabbing his ankle before the foot could connect.

He now sits up with Billy hobbling, finding himself on the verge of being trapped in the ankle lock for a second time. Pat reaches his feet and attempts to apply the submission only for Mitchell to deliver a jab to his cheek, followed by another strike. Evans drops his opponent’s foot and stumbles back, fighting the temptation to fall to the canvas. He remains upright just as Mitchell rushes in for another right hand.

Rich: That’s right Mitchell, stop toying with him like he were the cornered mouse to your cat. Just bag your dinner and be done with him.

To the disgust of both Katelyn Buehler and Jon Rich, Pat ducks the inbound fist and steps around behind Mitchell. Billy quickly spins to face his opposition who catches him around the waist then snaps back into the overhead release belly to belly suplex. Mitchell crashes into the canvas forcefully then rolls across the ring, trying desperately to get to his feet. He stands and then rushes at the still kneeling Evans who suddenly lunges from his crouched base and delivers an emphatic lariat to the throat.

Jon: Would you look at this. Lil’ Evans is trying to come back.

Billy: Hahahaha, like that’s gonna happen.

As he clutches at his throat Billy tries to get up, Evans attempting to do the same. Fatigue has set in and impairs both men’s recuperative abilities. Despite their physical limitations both men are now up and we’re right back where we started. Evans delivers a sudden and vicious chop across Billy’s sternum, knocking him back a few steps. This is followed up a kick to the mid-section. Evans doubling Mitchell over and putting him in perfect position for an evenflow DDT.

Pat traps the head and sets to drill Billy skull first into the canvas only for Mitchell to surprise him with a counter. He spins out of the front chancery, only to be grabbed by the wrist and whipped into the turnbuckle. Mitchell turns hitting the corner hard kidneys first while Evans comes barreling towards him. He leaves his feet for the splash only to have Billy clear out of the way. As a result Pat crashes chest first into the corner post then turns around and walks right into a kick to the gut followed by the Silver Bullet.

Mayne: That’s the same move he hit to put that vampire chick down….

Rich: And it’ll have the same effect on Evans.

Billy crawls into the lateral press, hooks both legs and waits for the referee’s decision. The official slaps the canvas with the crowd squealing.

1

2

3!

Billy throws down the leg and rises to his knees doing his trademark double pistol taunt. The fans are lapping this up like they were cats and Billy was there milk bowl.

Rich: Don’t cry Mayne, but it looks like Pat has lost AGAIN.

Mayne: I’ll try to refrain from tearing up. Billy with his second win, now going 2-0 here in the IWC. Hmmm, that was a stat. I’m surprised I knew it!

Jon: I’m surprised you know anything. You know what, I think it’s time that I give Pat something to cry about.

The headset is slid from Rich’s ears as he and Katelyn stand up and head towards the ring.

Billy: I think Rich and Buehler are about to rub their newfound alliance in Pat’s unconscious face. Oh goodie!

The sweaty Mitchell rolls to the outside of the ring where he continues to celebrate his very hard fought win. As he exits, Jon Rich enters. The Real Deal is crouched in the corner, feet pivoting beneath him in anticipation of a move all too familiar to Evans. As Pat struggles towards his feet Jon sets for the very superkick that put Evans down at 2 For 1 Special.

The groggy Pat has no idea what awaits him as he turns right into the devastating kick from Rich. But wait, Pat was playing possum, he catches the inbound foot and traps Rich in the ankle lock. The fans erupt as Jon falls to his forearms, leg elevated in the air and being tortured in the grasp of Evans.

Mayne: Whoa….no….whacha….howcha? Pat’s got an ankle lock on Rich.

Jon is screaming out in pain, immediately tapping out against the canvas as Evans continues to subject him to the abuse of the ankle lock. Although Evans avoided one attack, he couldn’t spare himself from the other. Katelyn rushes in behind Evans and delivers a forearm to his upper back. The strike knocks his legs out from under him, bringing Evans to his knees in the process of breaking the ankle lock.

Mayne: Thank you to the Gods above for creating Katelyn Buehler. Also, I guess I should give credit to the many plastic surgeons who are also responsible for her.

Katelyn puts the heels to the back of Evans as a furious Rich hobbles to his feet and joins in on the melee. The two are pummeling the kneeling Evans, who after enduring a war against Mitchell, is unable to protect himself from this onslaught.

Billy: Pat’s reckoning has come, the Five Star Society is dismantling him before our very eyes.

The assault continues on the defenseless Evans until Axl Evermore comes sliding into the ring with a baseball bat in hand.

Mayne: Why is….what is he….how dare he!

The moment that Evermore lifts the bat into the air, both Buehler and Rich scatter from the ring like roaches. They leap through the ropes with Axl chasing them out, swinging his bat at their heels. The lovers join at ringside, glaring into the squared circle where the menacing Evermore stands bat in hand.

Rich: Your saving him? HIM!?! Have you lost your mind?

An awkward glare is exchanged as Evermore looks over his shoulder at the kneeling Evans. Their eyes meet and the magnitude of Evermore’s actions finally begin to sink in.

Mayne: Did Evermore just SAVE Evans?

Pat looks even more shocked than Buehler and Rich at ringside.

HE’S HEEEEERRREEE

Oddly the camera is zoomed in on a pear of shoes moving across the concrete. These feet carry an unknown party towards an undisclosed location. Things suddenly become much more clear when the camera pans up from the expensive sneakers to the face. Questions are answered and motivations made clear when the crowd is blessed with the image of Jake Starr’s face.

Mayne: Huh? He’s actually here? Jake Starr is here!?! I didn’t think he’d take Christian up on his challenge in a million years.

The Pittsburgh natives erupt at the sight of Starr and all the possible scenarios his presence opens the door to. He looks stern and focused as he inches down the corridor, in search of Christian Savior and HIS IWC World Title.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

The ULTIMATE furniture mover

KITTY BUEHLER VS. JASON ZERO

The lights dim and a hush comes over the audience. The titantron suddenly goes static and this static starts to form a shape that all the audience recognizes.

The audience cheers thunderously as they recognize the face of Jason Zero. The face smiles before saying.

‘The Kingdom Of Old Is Dead.
The Order Has Fallen.
Now Is The Rise Of A New Kingdom…
Of Chaos’

The familiar electric guitar starts playing Crush 40’s ‘Knight of the Wind’ while every single fan of the proclaimed Crusader of Chaos holds up their lighters as a trap door opens from the stage ramp.

Wooaaah, Woooooah

Slowly, a large glass orb and two metal towers rise. We can see the silhouette of a man kneeling in that orb. As the lyrics start, he slowly rises out stretching his arms at a 45 degree angle.

Hey all (Hey all)
Welcome to the greatest storm.
I know, I know.
You have waited much too long
And I (And I)
I will be your shining star.
I’m here (I’m here)
You Better conquer fear or run!

Suddenly the two metal towers spring to life shooting bright purple and pink electricity at the orb. The man inside does not shy from this and within a few seconds the orb implodes, collapsing all around, leaving the man inside standing, exposed. To no one’s surprise, but to their delight, standing there is Jason Zero, his head to the sky, his eyes closed. Stepping to his side is Kassie Khane. The two embark towards the ring and finally slip through the ropes.

The reaction for Zero shakes the Indoor Sports Arena to its very foundation, especially as he takes a microphone into his hand. The World Champion (?) strides to the center of the ring with Kassie proudly watching his every step from the apron.

Mayne: Haven’t we heard enough babbling tonight already?

Jason’s chilling eyes catch the camera.

Zero: Savior and destroyer…..what a dichotomy. A paradox really. And that’s just what I am, a human paradox.

Mayne: What is he yapping about?

Zero: On one hand I want to be this company’s salvation. I want to bring back the prestige that has sorely been lacking from it’s roster and it’s World Heavyweight Title….BUT….certain events and the actions of others keep driving me closer and closer to being the IWC’s annihilator.

Some fans cheer, others boo, thoroughly vexed on how they should be reacting.

Jason: I keep being reminded why, WHY this company shouldn’t be allowed to exist. Why I SHOULD destroy it. The inefficiency of its head office, the incompetence of the decision makers compels me to despise this federation. But YOU, the fans, I know you deserve better than this. And I can give you better. I can give you the company that you deserve.

The crowd is behind this notion.

Zero: And it all starts with the World Heavyweight Title. Tonight I will remove any doubt, any mystery, I will take back the Championship.

The bold decree is met with overwhelming applause.

Zero: Christian Savior, Dan Douglas, the two of you need not concern yourselves with any challenges to Jake Starr. Your fear is misplaced. Because at the end of this night, when all is said and all is done, when the smoke clears and the dust settles, the letter “Z” will burn in the ashes and I will stand with the World Title held high above by head.

The reaction is almost deafening at this point. After stating his case Jason throws down the microphone and motions for Kassie to clear from the apron.

Billy: I love it when people make claims they can’t possibly back up. Seeing them humiliated gives my life purpose.

The lyrics of Kitty’s entrance music are strung through the speakers and before long the other Buehler sister strides to the stage. The Christian hotty overlooks the crowd with a smile on her face, enjoying their reaction to her, whether it be positive or negative. As she moves towards the ring she seems to be walking on clouds, feeling very excited considering that this is her very first singles match in IWC history, and it’s against the current (crosses fingers) World Champion.

Mayne: Porno Lad conspicuous by his absence from Kitty’s side. Apparently the two have had quite a bit of issues as of late regarding some type of “drugging.” I think Porno Lad stole a page from my book. Anyway, she’ll be going alone out here against Jason Zero, and apparently she wants to defeat him straight up here tonight.

The bell chimes with Kitty limbering up in the corner. The Christian warrior steps forward and motions for the tie up. Jason cannot help but to grin, finding the challenge she poses to be quite amusing. He steps in and the two interlock arms in a collar elbow. That’s when Buehler surprises Zero with a quick transition into the hammerlock. She follows this with a twist into the side headlock.

Billy: Nice. Plus Jason gets to have his face against the side of Kitty’s boob. That’s gotta be a bonus for him.

Kitty nods towards the crowd as if rubbing it in. That’s when Jason twists out of the side headlock, steps around behind Kitty and applies a rear waistlock. He then heaves her up into the air and takes her down with a traditional amateur wrestling throw. She crashes down to the canvas and Zero slides across her back, ending up on his knees in front of her trapping the head in a front chancery.

Mayne: And that isn’t so nice. In fact, it’s the complete and utter opposite of nice. It’s stank!

Zero continues to cut off blood and air circulation by squeezing the neck. However, Kitty won’t stay down for long. Unlike her sister Katelyn, she’s not content with remaining on her knees. She forces her up as far as she’ll go then falls to her side, flipping Zero over as he tries to hold onto the neck. His hold is broken and Jason goes rolling across the canvas to his feet.

He stands up and rushes right at the kneeling Kitty who reaches out and sweeps his legs from under his body. He falls to his back and Kitty drops onto his chest trying to hook the leg.

Jason reaches up though and grabs her by the back of the head, rolling to his side and flipping her over his body. She ends up on her back with Jason now stretched across her chest.

1

Kitty kicks out.

Mayne: Kitty desperately trying to show that she can out wrestle Zero, and I don’t know why. I mean, she’s hot, she doesn’t need talent.

Jason immediately grabs her arm, rises to his feet and twists the wrist forward. The arm ringer proves particularly painful to the seated Kitty, who stomps her heels against the canvas in anger. She quickly drops back though, rolling in reverse to her feet. She then performs a perform standing front flip, landing beside Zero and then twisting around, under his arm before transitioning behind his back.

She clamps her arms around his waist and tries to hit some type of suplex. She then realizes that she doesn’t have the strength to lift him, that Jason is just too heavy. Zero shakes his head, appearing annoyed before he delivers a back elbow that connects right to her temple. He then grabs her wrist, drops to his knees and pulls her forward into a fireman’s takedown. Kitty lands on her seat with Jason standing up at her side transitioning into the arm ringer once again.

Billy: Damn you Zero, stop being so repetitious.

Zero lowers Kitty’s hand to the canvas and then stomps down viciously on top of it. She screams with pain, rolling away from Jason and clasping at her possibly fractured knuckles in the process. Kitty gets to her knees, shaking her hand out to her side before Zero steps in and grabs her wrist. He applies the arm ringer once more and this time uses the submission to drag her up to her feet.

He yanks on the wrist so that she turns to face him before trapping the head and snapmaring her over to her seat. Once on her back side Jason wedges a knee to Kitty’s lower back and pulls in reverse on the wrists, applying a modified surfboard style submission.

Mayne: Come on Kitty. I know your beautiful, which means you probably lack the ability to think, but surely you can come up with a counter here.

Kitty is growing frustrated, perhaps buying into the notion that she really did need Porno Lad’s help to win this match. In spite of that knowledge she tries to get up, forcing herself from her seat and then starting to turn towards Zero in order to relieve the pressure. He then transitions right back into the arm ringer.

Billy: Not again.

A grin inhabits Jason’s face as he gives Kitty a wrestling lesson she’ll never forget. That’s when she surprises the multi time SCW World Champion, performing a cartwheel with her one free hand. She lands on her feet in front of Zero and then drops down into a baseball slide between his legs. He tries to hold onto the wrist but is forced to break the hold. Kitty then reaches out, grabs him by the ankles and pulls them back, forcing him to trip forward onto his face.

She quickly steps over Jason’s leg, grabs him by the ankle and lifts it up into the Boston Crab.

Mayne: What a lovely transition. It’s about time Kitty demonstrated just how well versed in the technical arts she truly is.

Kitty leans back on the leg until Jason’s knee threatens to snap yet he refuses to indulge any inclination of submitting. Jason wedges both elbows to the canvas and pulls himself in the direction of the ropes, reaching out for the bottom one. That’s when Kitty twists around from the Boston Crab into an STO.

Billy: Now that’s impressive. Of course, anything is impressive when you have nice boobs.

Kitty rears back on the hold cutting off all blood supply to the head. Jason grimaces, STUNNED that Kitty has brought him this close to submission. He wedges his fists against the canvas though and begins to press upwards. He starts to stand with the crowd rallied behind him, Kassie slapping the apron to get them sufficiently riled up.

Jason eventually reaches his feet, forcing a screaming Kitty to apply a side-headlock out of her STO. Zero keeps standing though until he’s at the point of hoisting Kitty up onto his shoulder, looking to deliver the back drop suplex. Kitty transitions her weight though, coming down towards the canvas and flipping Zero over into a side headlock takedown. She then rolls right out of the side headlock to Jason’s leg, grabbing hold of it, placing it under her pit and rolling him to his stomach, applying the Boston Crab.

Mayne: Yeah baby, yeah!

The crowd is shocked at Kitty’s technical expertise. She leans back on the leg, bending the knee at a very awkward angle and doing significant damage to the lower back. When asked if he wishes to submit Jason shakes his head no, defiant to the very end. His eyes meet with Kassie’s at ringside, giving him just the inspiration he needs to begin inching towards the ropes.

Billy: Just tap out Zero, tap out so I can watch Kitty jump up and down in celebration.

With the fans rallied behind him Zero reaches out and grabs the bottom rope. The official moves in front of Kitty, demanding she break the hold by the count of five or be disqualified. She throws down Jason’s leg before picking it right back up. She uses all her strength to begin dragging him towards the center of the ring.

To prevent being locked in the crab again, Jason rolls to his back, sits up, grabs Kitty’s wrist and pulls her down into the small package.

1

Kitty rolls out of the pin to her feet and then grabs Zero’s leg, lifting it up under her armpit.

Mayne: She’s going for the crab again. She truly is blessed by God.

To get her hands properly placed on the leg Kitty is forced to bend forward….bending a little too far. She puts herself within arm’s reach of Zero. Jason reaches out, hooks her arm, pries it away from his leg and then rises to his feet, twisting at the wrist. The fans pop as Kitty drops to her knees, finding herself trapped yet again in the arm ringer.

Billy: Ahhhh horse’s ass!

Zero wrenches at the wrist once again, causing Kitty to scream out in anguish. She bites her lip and balls her fist, swinging it right into Jason’s ribcage. Her free hand then reaches out for the crease of his knee, grabbing hold of it. She desperately yanks on it, trying to try him over backwards. That’s when Jason releases his hold then delivers an enzugari kick right to the back of her head with his free leg.

The stiff strike knocks Kitty to the canvas and sends her rolling over to her spine. Her eyes flutter, trying to remain conscious as Zero takes advantage of her current predicament. The World Champion (?) takes off into the ropes at her side, ricocheting from them and then performing a cartwheel into a back flip. He crashes right on top of Kitty’s mid-section then hooks her leg.

1

2

Kitty gets a shoulder up, refusing to be bested, especially when it would prove Porno Lad right.

Mayne: Good, there we go Kitty, do more of that.

Jason now gets to his feet and charges into the cables once more. He bounces off then drops into a forward roll before flipping out of it into a senton splash. The rolling thunder connects right across Kitty’s exposed abdomen. She grabs at her gut and ribs as Jason crawls into another lateral press.

1

2

Kitty kicks out to a mixed reaction from the crowd.

Mayne: That was way too close. Closer than it ever should have been. Don’t let that happen again Kitty, or I’ll have to give you a spankin.

The enigmatic Zero sits up on the canvas, fists to his hops in exasperation. He finally rises and grabs Kitty by the bangs, showing her absolutely no mercy. He drags her over to her knees when Kitty catches him off guard with a double palm thrust to the carotid artery.

Jason steps back gasping and clutching at his throat while Kitty races to her feet. She now comes rushing in at her choking opponent only for Jason to catch her against the ribs, hoist her into the air and deliver the Claim to Fame. The skyhigh press connects with such force that it shakes the canvas. Zero leans forward into the creases of Kitty’s knees with the crowd screaming, realizing that this could very well be it.

1

2

Kitty’s shoulder escapes the canvas mere seconds before the three could be completed. A winded Zero gives himself one final option, pointing to the top rope where he waits to take flight.

Mayne: Wait a minute Zero. Don’t you think about climbing that turnbuckle. Don’t ye dare do it. Do I have to speak in goth to you to get through?

A banged up Zero slips through the ropes and begins to climb the turnbuckle from the outside, perhaps setting up for the Night Flight. The crowd anxiously anticipates seeing the 450 splash, a move that will undoubtedly put an end to Kitty and the challenge that she poses. He reaches the top rope and steadies himself when Kitty springs back to life.

She comes rushing towards the turnbuckle and up the ropes, ending up right in front of Zero. She swings for a right but has it blocked, Jason responding with a stiff strike to her temple. The blow knocks her to the middle rope where she catches herself and keeps from falling all the way to the canvas below. Jason then delivers an uppercut strike that sends Kitty flying back. Somehow she is able to use the momentum to flip over and land directly on her feet. She backs into the official who tries to hold her up just as Zero comes twisting off the top rope into a super spinning heel kick.

He connects not only with Kitty, but with the referee as well, knocking all three individuals down to the canvas amongst screams from the crowd.

Mayne: This isn’t a triple threat match you idiot. The guy in the striped shirt isn’t one of your opponents. Jesus tap dancing Christ, is Jason really that big of a mongoloid?

Zero has no idea that he just took out the referee on accident, he’s too busy convalescing his injuries. He grips at his leg, grinding his teeth in the process of putting weight on his legs. Luckily Jason reaches his feet just in time to spot the emotionally unstable Porno Lad embarking towards the ring with a steel chair in hand.

Mayne: Ahhh, excellent, here comes Porno Lad to save the day. All he needs is a “S” on his chest and some stylish blue tights and he’ll be a modern day Superman.

The Original Prankster shouts furiously into the ring at Zero, who cocks back his fists ready for a fight.

Porno Lad: You think you’re gonna ruin my perfect Paranoia do ya? Do ya? Not gonna happen!

Porno Lad leaps to the apron with chair in hand, Jason gesturing for him to enter, anxious to take him on. Oddly enough Porno Lad isn’t all too thrilled about entering the ring. He hesitates on the apron, perhaps rethinking his strategy, or getting in the ring with a such a fired up Zero. The motivation behind his hesitation becomes far more clear when he glances at the referee coming through then tosses the chair over the ropes into Jason’s hands.

Zero instinctively catches the weapon then rushes at the ropes, swinging it at Porno Lad’s head. The Prankster leaps from the apron to the outside of the ring, backing up the ramp and smirking from ear to ear.

Mayne: Why did he….?

Jason slams the chair against the canvas and lifts it above his shoulder, threatening to take Porno Lad’s head off if he even thinks about getting in the ring. The referee finally comes through and spots Jason standing over Kitty with the steel chair in hand, prompting him to call for the bell.

Billy: ….oooooOOOOOH….now I get it. Porno Lad just got Zero disqualified! That’s got to be most brilliant thing I’ve seen since Kitty Buehler decided to wear skin tight pants.

The grin on Porno Lad’s face has escalated into loud, cackling laughter at the expense of the now DQed Zero. Jason is absolutely shaking as this revelation is made, his whole body going blood red. Kitty begins to come through, hearing the bell chime, spotting the chair in Jason’s hand then catching a glimpse of her husband at ringside. The moment she spots Porno Lad she begins to curse his name under her breathe. Jason goes a lot further than verbal abuse. He throws down the chair, rolls under the ropes and goes charging up the ramp right after Porno Lad.

Mayne: Here they go!

Porno Lad and Jason Zero meet at the mid point of the ramp, both men beginning to exchange blows to a rabid reaction from the crowd.

Mayne: Zero….Porno Lad….Jason….Porno Lad….they’re going at it.

Fists fly between their faces they go back and forth up the ramp towards the backstage area. Kassie follows behind pleading with Zero to stop. He doesn’t listen, mind too clouded by his rage. As this brawl ensues between the number one contender and the potential World Heavyweight Champion, Kitty sits in the center of the ring, her arm being raised in victory. She yanks her wrist away from the official, feeling no cause for celebration. In fact, she seems outright furious.

JUST BUSINESS

Mitchell: So I went out there, twisted that scrawny lil’ neck and gave ‘em the stunner. Then anuther, then anuther, then….you guessed it….anuther stunner.

Medea looks wowed by the adventurous tale of “BAD” Billy Mitchell. He regales her with his exploits during the Underground Invitational at 2 For 1 Special. Seated beside him on the sofa, legs drawn under her bottom, sits Medea, spellbound and eager to find out what happens next.

Medea: So did you win?

Mitchell suddenly stops in mid-sentence, realizing that his story doesn’t have a happy ending.

Billy: Winnin’ isn’t everything darlin’. I went out there, made a point, made my intentions clear and gave a brief taste of what everyone can expect from yours truly. Plus I got me a few phone numbers and room keys in the process.

Medea: I’m sure you did country boy.

Mitchell: Course I didn’t accomplish EVERYTHING that I wanted to accomplish.

Medea: In people’s rooms or in the ring?

Mitchell: In the ring sweetheart. Believe me, I never leave a bedroom unsatisfied. Nah’ sugar, I’m talkin’ about the match. Had Foxxy Arcane competed in it, as he was advertised to, I would have completed ALL my tasks.

Medea pouts.

Medea: Awww, he was going to compete when he heard he was in a “clusterfuck” at 2 For 1 Special, but when he found out it wasn’t that TYPE of “clusterfuck” he was too disappointed to wrestle.

Billy: Yep, we don’t get nearly enough of the other type of “clusterfuck.”

Arcane: Am I interrupting something here?

There is a hint of dissension in Arcane’s tone. He awkwardly steps into the room, feeling a strange vibe in the air. It doesn’t help matters than Mitchell leaps from the sofa as if he and Medea were doing something “lewd” behind the X-Class Champion’s back.

Billy: FOXXY Arcane, just the man I’ve been lookin’ for.

His hand extends and Fox tentatively shakes it.

Mitchell: Boy, you harder to get hold of than a kiiiyote chasin’ sheep. I been trying to discuss some business with ya. Medea was kind enough to lend me her ears.

Fox: I hope that’s the only part of her anatomy that she allowed you access to.

Mitchell: Truth be told, I’d love to get an all access pass. Know what I’m sayin’?

There is no response from Fox, tension now hanging in the air. Mitchell briefly whistles to break the lull in the conversation and then gets on with his point.

Billy: Anyway, the business I’m gettin’ to….

Arcane: Listen, Billy…..is it?

Now there’s no response from Mitchell.

Fox: I’d love to shoot the shit with you, I really would, but if you didn’t notice, I’m kinda the X-Class Champion.

He lifts the belt and taps it with his finger.

Arcane: And I’m about to defend my title. So maybe we could save this discussion for another time.

Mitchell only has a second to mull it over.

Mitchell: Fine.

Fox forces a grin then turns to address Medea.

Fox: Well, are you ready to make good on your promise….

Mitchell: BUT….

Mitchell leans in and takes the X-Class Champion’s wrist, speaking directly into his ear.

Billy: I wouldn’t make me wait TOO long.

He releases the wrist and finally walks away. Fox watches the door shut behind his back before turning his attention to his lovely groupie.

Arcane: Why did you even let him in the door?

Medea: He seems nice.

Fox: Yeah, he’s a real swell guy. The type of fella you could bring home to your mother, before you know, he gives her a stunner and urinates all over the braided rug.

She wraps one arm around his waist and puts a finger to his lips.

Medea: You were alluding to my surprise.

Fox suddenly remembers his original train of thought.

Arcane: Yeeeeaaaah, about that. We’ve only been together for a few weeks but I think you can already tell that I’m not the type who enjoys surprises.

Medea: Relax, you’ll love it. All you have to do is beat Brooks or Hurse or whatever has been they got lined up and you’ll be in for the shock of your life.

She grabs him by the wrists and slides his hands down the curves of her body. Fox exhales dramatically and then winks towards his smitten gal pal.

Fox: I think I’m going to like this surprise.

Their lips draw closer together.

Medea: Oh, you’ll love it.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

The ULTIMATE promo

FOX ARCANE © VS. ROBIN BROOKS

“THE GAME” by Disturbed blares through the speakers and brings the fans to start searching for their vomit bags. There is little delay in Robin’s arrival. She isn’t here to gloat or grandstand, she’s here to make a statement. Brooks storms down the ramp, microphone already in one hand, while the other holds a visible leash. The opposite end wrapped around Hurse’s neck, who moves down the ramp appearing incredibly light headed, still suffering the effects of that shot with the Singapore cane earlier in the night.

Mayne: Robin Brooks a woman on a mission, and boy oh boy does she have reason to be PO’ed tonight. I bet she’s regretting putting Hurse in that triple threat earlier on, after he was hit with that cane and all. Especially if he’s supposed to represent her in this match for the X-Class Title.

The red hot Brooks grimaces towards Hurse who all but falls through the ropes, unable to even hold himself up after that shot to the skull earlier in the night.

Robin: Look at you. Just look at you. I can’t expect you to do anything right, can I? You just keep on letting me down, over and over and over again.

The concussion recipient tries to explain but Brooks is having none of it.

Brooks: On a night when I’m challenging for the X-Class Title you go and get yourself hit in the head with a Singapore cane. You knew that I was going to insert you into this match and yet you still let yourself get so beat up in that three way earlier tonight that you couldn’t possibly win the title for me now. Granted you probably wouldn’t have even if you hadn’t been attacked. Which is why I made a bargain with Douglas earlier. If I agreed to FORCE you into that three way, I got to name any stipulation I wanted for my X-Class Title match. The stipulation I picked, a HANDICAP MATCH!

Now the fans have just the provocation they needed to boo.

Robin: And I bet you’d like to know who your tag team partner is gonna be.

The near drooling Parkwood nods.

Brooks: Your partner, and Fox’s second opponent tonight will be “The Goddess of Desire” Kaaaaaattttiiiiieee Steeeewwwwwaaarrrd!

The whole building reacts with a unanimous wave of disgust. In conjunction with her entrance music, Katie Steward swaggers through the curtains to the stage. Although she’s still in slight pain after that shot with the Singapore cane earlier tonight she just walks it off. Obviously the attack on her earlier in the evening has given her just the motivation that she needs to compete in this impromptu challenge.

Mayne: It’s about time that Robin put someone she could TRUST to win the match in there as her replacement. If I had to watch Hurse loose one more match on Robin’s behalf I probably would have asphyxiated myself.

After slipping into the ring Katie and Robin exchange a cheek smooch. Steward then takes the microphone and turns towards Hurse.

Katie: And you had better not screw this up.

Hurse quivers as he fights to his feet, sweat beading down his bruised skin.

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 look 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. Standing on the pedestal is one Fox Arcane, X-Class Title over his shoulder and Medea located just behind his back. Arcane and his groupie head towards the ring with the crowd cheering him on. Once again Arcane is forced to face seemingly insurmountable odds in his quest to retain the X-Class Title. In spite of the challenge presented to him, Fox enters the ring and prepares for stiff competition.

Mayne: No technical snafus today. Nope, the only snafu that Fox will face tonight is losing his X-Class Title, hahahahaha. See what I did there, with the segway, and the…..ahhh shut up and just adore me.

Arcane removes his X-Class Championship and bestows it unto the official. Medea grins from the outside of the ring, supporting her hero as best she can as he faces this steep uphill battle. The bell chimes in the background and before Fox can even prepare, Katie comes screeching towards him. Somehow he’s able to drop into a baseball slide, slipping right through her legs then popping up behind her back.

He traps the Goddess in a rear waist lock as Hurse comes rushing up behind him. He then hooks Fox’s thigh and pulls him over into a school boy. As Fox drops to his back he drags Katie over into a bridging waist lock pin.

The official slaps the canvas with both hands.

1

2

Arcane and Katie kick out simultaneously. Brooks takes a deep breathe, relieved that her former fiancée did not cost her the X-Class Championship.

Billy: That idiot Hurse almost caused Steward to be pinned. Would someone please slap him in the head with another cane?

Both Fox and Steward are rushing to their feet when Arcane spins around and catches Steward with a back heel kick doubling her over. He then places Katie in a side headlock, using her head as a battering ram, charging her skull first right into Hurse’s ribs. The Master of Control is doubled over as Fox now leaps into the air with his legs, wrapping them around Hurse’s skull then falling to his side. He flips Hurse over with a leg scissors and Steward over with a headlock takedown simultaneously.

Mayne: Dammit, Hurse is throwing Katie completely out of her groove. How can she be expected to wrestle a competitive match with this albatross hanging around her neck?

The Goddess and the Master find themselves shoulder to shoulder as they struggle towards their feet. Arcane winks at Medea at ringside then comes charging in only to meet with disastrous results. Katie hauls off and kicks Hurse to the crease of his knee, knocking his legs out from under him and sending his feet flying forward into Arcane’s shin.

Fox is knocked to the canvas, landing on all fours just as Steward ricochets from the ropes and delivers a front dropkick right to his exposed face.

Mayne: There we go. Katie had to take matters into her own hands, using Hurse as a human marionette. Or well, at least CLOSE to a human.

The X-Class Champion is in pain from his shin to his skull but has yet to experience the true anguish that Steward has planned for him.

She steps towards Hurse, rolls him over to his knees and elbows then rushes into the ropes. After bouncing off the cables she uses Hurse as a perch to leap from. She jumps off his spine and twists into a moonsault crashing right across Arcane’s sternum. Fox begins to convulse as Steward drops into the lateral press, wedging a forearm to his face in the process.

1

2

The X-Class Champion preserves his belt by a virtue of a kick out.

Mayne: Steward was close, sooooo very close to winning the X-Class Title on behalf of the Black Widow. But I’ll blame Hurse for Fox’s ability to kick out.

Surprisingly Arcane is trying to stand up only to be shut down with a lariat to the back of his neck delivered by the Goddess. She now screams at Hurse to get up and help her. The discombobulated former World Champion staggers towards Steward and the two wedge their shoulders to Fox’s back, lifting him into the air for a stereo back suplex. To their shock Arcane flips over and lands on his feet. He quickly stands up, grabs both their heads and then rams them into one another.

Billy: Noooo. Not Katie’s perfect face.

Hurse and Steward are stumbling about like creatures from a George A. Romero film. Arcane looks to shoot ‘em in the head and bring them down. He charges in behind Steward, leaps upward and delivers a dropkick directly between her shoulder blades. The collision knocks her forward into Hurse, the two once again mashing skulls. He crashes to the canvas while Steward backs into Arcane’s waiting arms. He pulls her over into the school boy with the crowd cheering.

1

2

The reaction dwindles when Steward kicks out.

Mayne: Man oh man, I can’t take many more nearfalls like that. I was hyperventilating over here.

The X-Class Champion and Steward race one another to their feet. Fox goes for yet another spinning back heel kick only to have his foot caught in the Goddess’ clutches. A grin forms on her face before Arcane leaps into the air with the other foot, looking to deliver the enzugari. Steward ducks it though, causing Fox to crash face first with a splat against the ring.

He pops up to his knees and grabs his lips with both palms, Medea screeching with concern. Steward then rushes in behind him and delivers a knee strike to the back of his head, bringing him down to all fours. She follows this up by stepping off of Fox’s upper back and dropping a leg straight across his neck. The force of the landing drives Fox’s face down into the canvas, his skull thudding against the ring.

He rolls over to his back, completely sprawled across the canvas in a helpless heap. Steward then approaches the nearby turnbuckle, kicking her hair back to taunt the crowd as she begins to scale the corner.

Mayne: The Goddess is about to show the world why we should drop to our knees and worship her devoutly.

Katie nears the top rope, just about to flip through the air when Hurse suddenly snatches Fox around the neck, rolling him from the canvas. Steward and Brooks voice their outrage as Hurse pulls Fox’s head under his seat and signals for the Sanitizer.

Although the move failed to prove effective earlier in the night Hurse hopes the second time will be the charm. He wraps his arms around Arcane’s waist and lifts him up into the air, hanging him upside down and beginning to step over the shoulders. That’s when Katie grabs Arcane’s ankle and pulls him down out of position for Hurse’s Styles Clash variation.

Katie: No one steals my thunder. Your suppose to fall in line and do as your told.

She digs a finger into his chest, pushing him back. Hurse takes several deep breathes, trying to keep himself from losing all control over his emotions. Despite the turmoil between them, Katie and Hurse put their differences aside to deliver simultaneous punches to Fox’s forehead the moment he reaches his feet. Arcane hits the canvas and grabs at his rattled brain.

Hurse steps in to take advantage only for Katie to grab his shoulder and pull him back.

Steward: No. You stand back and watch Minion. You don’t deserve to pin Fox after you FAILED to destroy Mason earlier.

All Parkwood can do is continue breathing heavily as he steps into a turnbuckle, slouching over it. Behind his back the distracted Steward has walked right into a head scissors take down from Arcane. Fox leapt from his back, legs shooting up into the air, wrapping around Katie’s neck and dragging her down to the canvas.

She flips over and hits the canvas while the X-Class Champion scurries to his feet. He then takes off across the ring, barreling in behind Hurse then leaping towards his exposed back. Hurse has no idea that Fox is flying into his spine before it’s too late. Arcane steps up Hurse’s back and kicks him to the skull in the process, driving his face into the turnbuckle.

Fox flips off of Hurse’s spine, lands on his feet then spins towards the inbound Steward, leaping over her. He catches her waist, pulls her down and places his heels over her shoulders.

1

2

Steward kicks out much to Brooks’ relief. She wipes sweat from her forehead, thinking that Arcane had stolen one.

Mayne: Another pin-fall that was entirely too close for comfort. I swear, if Hurse doesn’t stop throwing off Steward’s mojo, I might have to get involved in this one. That way I can really show that I’m a better wrestler and commentator than that hack Daniel Ackart.

Steward rolls over backwards to her feet and then rushes at the laid out Arcane. He gets his legs up into the air, wedges both feet to her chest and kicks her off. Steward drops to her back, rolling over in reverse while Arcane does the same, his shins ending up on top of an inbound Hurse’s shoulders.

He pushes himself up onto his palms and then shoves off the canvas, swinging around several times. With his legs hooked around Hurse’s head he pulls Parkwood around into rotation after rotation, hanging completely upside down from his opponent’s neck all the while. He plans to cap this spin off with a head scissors takedown but his plan back fires when Steward catches him with a dropkick to the temple in mid-swing.

Billy: Ohhh yes. Now that was vicious. Beyond vicious. That was a Goddess level of vicious.

Brooks gives Steward a standing ovation as she shoves Hurse aside and drops down into the lateral press, hooking the Champion’s leg.

1

2

Fox kicks out to the delight of the masses and to the appreciation of Medea. She is slapping the apron with both palms trying to get the fans rallied behind their X-Class Champion. Many of them are cheering for Arcane, who struggles valiantly to reach his feet.

That struggle is ended when Steward comes charging in and delivers a straight kick to his temple. The strike knocks him over to his back where he lies near motionless.

Mayne: Finally, it’s about time Katie took this match onto her adorable shoulders.

Katie imparts her wisdom unto Hurse, instructing him on his next move. With a sigh he takes both of Arcane’s legs and watches as Steward slips through the ropes to the apron behind him. He now drops back, catapulting Arcane towards Steward who catches him under the jaw with a forearm strike. The blow knocks him back onto Hurse’s raised knees. He finds himself stretched over the kneecaps as Steward flies over the top rope and drops an elbow straight across his chest.

Arcane grabs at his sternum and his spine, both areas of his body equally traumatized by that last move.

Billy: Hahahaha, she’s brilliant. Oh so deviously brilliant. What would the world be like without the BRILLIANCE of Katie Steward? I bet we wouldn’t even have the Ipod.

The mangled Champion tries to get up but doesn’t have the strength, his whole body fatigued by this endless assault from both challengers. Hurse’s confidence begins to grow before Steward puts him right back in the dumps.

Katie: You see, if you stop thinking for yourself and do what I say maybe you’ll finally win a match around here.

Steward steps behind the barely conscious Arcane and stoops forward, fingers twiddling out to her sides in anticipation of delivering her version of the Unprettier.

Billy: She’s gonna finish him off and win that X-Class Title. Boy I’m so excited I think my boner just elevated the announce table.

Fox begins to stand up in perfect position for Steward who steps forward and traps the arms. He delivers a quick back elbow to her face though, breaking her grip. That’s when Hurse acts quickly, ricocheting from the ropes and charging straight at Arcane, throwing a lariat. Fox ducks it and as a result Hurse ends up driving his bicep into Katie’s throat, bringing her down to the canvas. He stands over Steward looking shock, appearing as if he just swallowed a toad.

Mayne: Noooo, YOU IDIOT!

Hurse’s quivering hands slip into his hair, realizing what he’s just done. Brooks is infuriated at ringside, going absolutely spastic over Hurse’s “accident.” Arcane looks to take advantage, rushing into the ropes, springing from the middle one and then flying back. He goes for a springboard back elbow only to be met in mid-air with a dropkick right to the kidneys. Fox crashes down to the canvas and clutches at his lower back while Hurse kneels on the canvas behind him. He then climbs into another quick lateral press, hooking both legs.

1

2

Arcane launches his shoulder from the ring, saving his X-Class Championship yet again.

Mayne: Hurse’s stupidity has just ruined this match for me completely.

A disgruntled Hurse rolls to his knees and slaps the canvas with both palms repeatedly. He is absolutely flipping out over the fact that he can’t put Arcane away and acquire his X-Class Title. Brooks has completely lost faith, throwing her arms up into the air. She goes to lower them when she finds her wrist snagged on something. With wide eyes Brooks finds herself facing Rick-Rohl.

Mayne: What’s that son of a bitch doing here, and why does he have hold of Brooks? Let her go, she doesn’t have any single dollar bills on her and she doesn’t want a lap-dance.

Rick shouts at Hurse to draw his attention. His eyes cut towards his bodyguard and the struggling Brooks in the big man’s clutches. Brooks demands that Rick let her go but he only pulls her closer so that he can raise her blouse to show her stomach.

Billy: How dare he! Someone grab a rape whistle.

Brooks is violently thrashing about, desperately trying to get free as Rohl yanks up on her shirt to reveal the false stomach beneath. Hurse watches intently, unsure what he should do, how he should react.

Rohl: Do you see, it’s all been a lie Steven, a lie!

Before he can get the shirt up and over her false womb Robin rips her wrist free then twists into the barricade. Her stomach takes much of the impact with the steel before she goes twisting into the thin protective mats with a hard thud.

Mayne: Ooooooh noooo! That son of a…..that son of a bitch caused Robin to crash onto her pregnant stomach! Someone get medical help out here, HEEEELLP!

Rohl steps back with wide eyes and dropped jaw. He looks surprised by the horrid turn of events resulting from his attempts to help his partner. Hurse sits up on the canvas shaking from head to toe, loosing all control over his emotions. Steward slips out of the ring in a hurry, leaping to Robin’s aid. Without delay she throws Robin’s arm over her shoulders and helps the sobbing Brooks to her feet.

Billy: Thank Goddess that Katie is here to help her. She’ll heal Brooks and her baby with her magical touch.

A furious Steward glance back towards the ring where Hurse is now standing.

Katie: This is all your fault.

Rohl backs towards the announce table, watching in shock as Robin is assisted up the ramp towards the backstage area.

Mayne: I don’t even know how to begin to describe what we’ve just seen. Who knows what implications Rohl’s attack on Brooks may have just caused.

Hurse is almost steaming from the ears as he turns towards Rohl, who begins shaking his head and defending his actions. Every word that Rick utters falls on deaf ears, Hurse entirely tuned out. Which would explain why he falls right into Fox’s clutches. Arcane takes Hurse by the tights and pulls him back into the school boy.

1

2

3

The crowd is shaken from their surprise and forced to react with a chorus of cheers as Arcane has just retained his X-Class Title. Hurse falls to his side, having even more justification to be outraged.

Mayne: And to make matters worse, Arcane just swooped in and retained the X-Class Title. Does the man have no pity of any kind? I mean, I know he already doesn’t have a soul. If he did he wouldn’t put so much peroxide on his hair.

Arcane rolls to his knees, celebrating another victory where he was forced to rise above seemingly insurmountable odds to hold his gold. Medea is clapping at ringside, celebrating right alongside her hero. The only people not reacting to this win are Rick-Rohl and Hurse. Rick watches from ringside as his partner rushes up the ramp towards the backstage area to be with the mother of his unborn child, praying that nothing serious has happened to either one of them thanks to Rohl’s negligence.

ALL FOR YOU

The X-Class Title drapes the forearms of Arcane. Fox has never been so happy to be reunited with his belt, having overcome two challengers at once to walk away still champion.

Mayne: Somehow this night just keeps getting worse and worse and worse. It’s like sitting through a Uwe Boll movie when your not shrooming. And even then it’s still lousy.

It takes all his effort but Fox reaches his feet and elevates his gold high above his head to a rousing response from the crowd. Through the ropes slides Medea, microphone in hand and huge grin stretched across her face.

Medea: You did it baby. YOU DID IT! I knew you would.

Arcane nods with arrogance, dropping his title onto his shoulder.

Medea: And I think it’s only fitting that after a win like this, I give you that oh so special treat I’ve been promising you.

She shashays towards Fox, who DEFINITELY likes where this is going.

Mayne: Please Goddess let it involve some type of strip tease. It’s the only thing that will get me over the shock of what just happened to Robin.

Medea: Are you ready for it, baby?

She wraps her arms around the back of his neck.

Fox: Oh, I’m ready.

Medea: Are you sure?

Arcane: Oh, I’m sure.

Medea: Then let’s do it…..I can’t wait to see the look on your face.

Fox’s grin only widens before his attention is suddenly drawn to a set of torches igniting on the ramp.

Billy: What is this? She isn’t even stripping.

Medea steps back and watches as the lights dim around the torches and the stage. Fox finds himself drawn to these burning staffs, wondering what purpose they could possibly serve. That’s when Razorbliss by Flowing Tears hits the PA system and something begins to rise up through the stage. A wooden panel, like the floor to a dojo appears beneath a figure seated on his calves. His head is lowered, eyes staring at the rising ground beneath him.

Mayne: What….the hell…..is going…..on?

The seated figure suddenly shoots his arms out to his sides and looks up into the face of Arcane. Fox takes a step back and gasps, stunned by the face that is looking back at him. The torches die and the lights now illuminate all, especially the chilling eyes of this crouched figure.

Billy: Who is it?

The gentleman in question points directly at Fox just a howl can be heard through the speakers. On the Cartel-tron the words “Wolf Arcane” appear in bright blue lettering. Fox is shaking his head, in disbelief that his brother has come to the IWC.

Mayne: I’m guessing this guy is some kind of relation to Fox.

The exhausted X-Class Champion is still having trouble believing what he’s seeing, especially as Medea marches up the ramp and crouches down next to Wolf, sliding her hands over his shoulders.

PARANOIA--OID

Kassie: NOOOO! Stop it! HELP! HEEEEEELLLLPP!

Porno Lad: You rat bastard! Your not going to ruin my Paranoia, your not gonna ruin it!

Porno Lad’s fist connects over and over again with Jason Zero’s face. The IWC World Champion (?) is being thoroughly pummeled by the ever aggressive Prankster, who is completely out of control at this point. Although not a finger has been put on her, Kassie suffers torture as well, of the emotional variety. She is forced to endure the image of Jason being decimated by the number one contender, and is powerless to do anything more than cry out for help.

Porno Lad: No one is gonna take this from me! NO ONE!

Porno Lad reaches his feet and props himself up against the wall as he rains down boots onto Jason’s body. The prone Zero tries feebly to protect himself against this onslaught but he has little defense after being JUMPED, caught completely unaware. The kicking only stops so that Porno Lad can now verbally abuse the barely conscious Zero. He crouches to get as close to his supine rival as possible.

Porno Lad: I worked too hard for this Zero. I planned way too long for you to all of a sudden come along and fuck it all to hell!

He grabs Zero by the bangs and lifts his head up from the floor.

Porno Lad: I’m going to Paranoia, here that, me, ME! And I’M gonna leave the IWC World Champion.

A solid right hand puts Zero back down to the concrete.

Kassie: Please stop, please…..

Finally Kassie uses herself as a shield, diving to Jason’s side and wrapping her arms protectively around his head. The fuming, paranoid Porno Lad backs away, his tense body steaming after all that has transpired in recent weeks.

Kassie: Somebody HELP!

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Behold, the ULTIMATE mirror trick

THESE BOOTS WERE MADE FOR WALKING

One might believe that the cameramen backstage have some type of foot fetish, evident by yet another close up of boots. Now some other mysterious figure is on their way towards the ring and the fans are forced to wait anxiously for the obligatory pan out to find out who it could be. The lens slowly draws back and when the crowd gets a glimpse of the face they lose their breathe. The roof to the arena is not only on the verge of being blown off, but the crowd’s reaction threatens to knock the planet off its axis.

Billy: No, what is he doing here?

Orlando Cruze marches towards the ring wearing his trademark shades and a black leather vest.

Mayne: Now Orlando Cruze is in the building too? We haven’t seen him since he was taken out by the Five Star Society. Someone really needs to buy a lock for the door.

Much like Jake Starr earlier in the night, Orlando walks with purpose and focus.

CHRISTIAN SAVIOR © VS. TOO MAGNIFICENT

The show returns to the ringside area where a flabbergasted Billy Mayne is throwing his arms up in the air.

Mayne: What else is gonna happen here tonight? We’ve already had Jake Starr show up, now Orlando Cruze. And don’t even get me started on that Jason Zero, Porno Lad brawl….it’s just….oh thank Goddess.

Katie Steward steps in behind the announce table, putting on her headset and slipping back into her chair.

Billy: I missed you THIS much.

Katie: You should know by now that I can’t pass up the opportunity to listen to my own voice. So I’m back and I have news.

Billy: Share.

Steward: Robin and I met with her private doctor, Dr. Holmes….

Billy: Why was he here?

Katie: Robin was having pregnancy pains earlier this week so we wanted him on hand should there be any issues. And thank Goddess he was here.

Mayne: Is Robin’s baby okay?

Steward: She’s fine and so is the baby.

Billy: That’s a relief.

Katie: But wait, there’s more news.

Mayne: There is?

Steward: It’s just been made official. As a result of Rick-Rohl’s attack on Brooks, Hurse has challenged him to a match NEXT WEEK.

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 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!!!!!!”

Katie: Well, I see now that I should have just stayed backstage and kept checking on Robin’s well being.

Mayne: You sure did pick a lousy time to come out here, what with Too Ugly emerging from his subterranean dwelling to face off for the Cartel Championship here in his hometown.

Steward: I’m surprised anyone would even claim Pittsburgh as their hometown.

Mayne: I know I wouldn’t. And by the end of the night, Pittsburgh won’t be claiming Too Magnificent as one of their own.

Too Magnificent removes his Pittsburgh Penguins jersey and tosses it into the crowd. He then gets himself incredibly focused for the task at hand. Before long the all too familiar lyrics of Christian Savior’s entrance theme hits the PA system and the Rising Phoenix himself inches through the curtains. Over one shoulder resides the coveted Cartel Title, the very belt he’ll be putting on the line in just seconds. Over the other shoulder sits his stolen IWC gold, a title that has put a huge target on his back. In spite of the overwhelming hostile reception Christian is undeterred in his stroll towards the ring. He moves up the steps and pauses on the apron to eye all those loyal to Too Magnificent.

Mayne: I cannot believe the disadvantage that Dan Douglas has placed Christian in. Not only does he have to defend his title here in Pittsburgh, Too Magnificent’s hometown, but he made trashcans legal for Too Magnificent as well. It’s like Douglas is ensuring a title change tonight. But oh well, if there’s one man who can rise above these obstacles, it’s our boy Christian Savior.

Steward: Well, I think making trashcans legal was more like throwing a bone to Too Mangy, that way it at least gives him a fighting chance against Christian.

Too Magnificent and THE Rising Phoenix stand toe to toe, opposed in the ring for what promises to be a heralded, storybook bout. The fans are at a fevered pitch, pulses racing, hearts throbbing, minds consumed with the premise of a Too Magnificent title victory here in his hometown. The bell chimes and the confrontation precedes, Too Magnificent moving in quick, maybe a little too quick.

Savior immediately sticks his head through the ropes, forcing the official to cut Too Magnificent off. The referee wedges his hands to Too Magnificent’s sternum and forces him back, insisting that Savior is in the ropes. The Pittsburgh native stews with anger over this interference, wanting NOTHING to stand in the way of him and the Cartel Championship.

Mayne: Would you look at Too Magnificent, the man has absolutely ZERO respect for anything or anybody, the officiating staff included. Not that I respect the officiating staff either. I always thought those shirts made them look fat.

Katie: Plus there a fashion nightmare. The least they could have done is thrown a feathered boa, or a rock star bracelet into the uniform.

Billy: I think they should all wear festive fruit hats.

Steward: Obviously you would be the last person I’d ask for fashion advice.

Although Too Magnificent is desperate to obtain the Cartel Title he does not want to risk losing his cool. Christian steps out of the ropes and informs the referee to do his job….his job being to protect the Rising Phoenix. In the midst of shouting at the referee Christian tries to take a cheap shot at Too Magnificent only for his fist to be caught. The crowd goes nuts as the giant begins to squeeze Christian’s hand until the bones threaten to burst through the flesh.

Savior’s eyes widen, his lips quiver, his whole body shakes as his fingers are almost ground to dust by the compression.

Mayne: Unhand Christian’s…..hand.

Katie: Another brilliant comment from the pea-brain gallery.

Mayne: That’s why they pay me the big bucks.

Steward: The fact that your paid at all is repulsive.

Billy: I am paid in foodstamps though.

Katie: That doesn’t make the thought any more bearable.

Christian pivots between feet and his knees begin to buckle. Suddenly he’s yanked forward by the wrist into the palms of his gargantuan foe who heaves him high into the sky. Savior somehow reaches down and saves himself, digging a finger into Too Magnificent’s eye and gouging it. He slips off the palms and lands behind the big man’s back before getting a running start. Too Magnificent turns around and catches him by the throat though, setting up for the chokeslam.

Before Savior can be driven through the canvas he delivers a direct kick to the knee, breaking the chokeslam attempt. He then bails from the squared circle, creating some space between himself and his opponent. The audience verbally berates him especially as he approaches the time keeper and snatches the Cartel Championship and IWC World Title belt out of his clutches. He then turns to address the nearby camera.

Savior: I didn’t sign on to defend my title in this cesspool.

The Pittsburgh natives are infuriated by these inflammatory comments. Their expressions change however when Too Magnificent rolls out of the ring and ends up right in front of the Rising Phoenix, cutting him off at the pass. He then throws the tarp into the air, reaches under the squared circle and removes a solid steel trashcan. The color fades from Savior’s face, prompting him to back away with palm extended.

Billy: He wouldn’t, he wouldn’t dare touch Savior with that trashcan. That’s it, I’m rolling up my sleeves.

Katie: Are you actually about to step in there and defend Christian?

Billy: No, I’m just rolling up my sleeves, they’re irritating my wrists.

Steward: I imagine what you do in the bathroom to images of me is a far greater irritant to your wrists.

The only safe place for Savior is the inside of the ring. He rolls into the squared circle with Too Magnificent trailing behind, trashcan still in his grasp. He places it on the apron and begins to enter before Christian wisely barrels across the ring dropping into a baseball slide. The trashcan is dropkicked right back into Too Magnificent’s sternum, sending him spiraling into the barricade.

The wounded Golden Goliath rests against the barrier, using it for support, unaware that as he tries to stabilize himself Christian is on the verge of taking flight. He throws down his belt, grabs the top rope and pulls himself over into the crossbody, flying straight towards Too Magnificent who suddenly reaches into the heavens and catches Christian by the throat.

Savior barely even has time to react as he drops to his feet and then is launched into the air before being chokeslammed right on top of the thin protective mats.

Mayne: Ohhhh sweet mother Mary and Joseph! Christian’s crippled, he’s gone all Gary Sinise in Forest Gump.

Steward: Too Maggot is out of control, plus the dye job on his hair just offensive.

All Christian can do is roar, bowing his shattered spine from the mats. Too Magnificent can feel the sense of urgency, realizing that he may have just won himself the championship. He grabs Christian around the neck, exerting a lot of his energy to pull the title holder back to his feet. Once upright Christian is deposited into the ring where he rolls to the center and lies motionless.

With his Pittsburgh compatriots in his back pocket Too Magnificent slides into the ring and into the cover. He hooks both of Christian’s legs, making sure there is no room for failure.

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Savior’s shoulder escapes the canvas, sparing his title.

Mayne: Thank Goddess for small miracles.

Steward: I have blessed Christian Savior.

The mighty Magnificent rises to his feet unable to avoid becoming slightly unhinged. He takes a deep breathe before vacating the ring and finding his weapon of choice, the very item made legal by Douglas earlier in the evening. With the trashcan in his clutches Too Magnificent rolls into the ring and this time he will not be thwarted. He waits with great anticipation for Christian to stand, watching as the Rising Phoenix struggles feebly to get his weak knees beneath his body.

After suffering the chokeslam on the mats every inch of his anatomy is fatigued, unable to support the weight of his injuries. Injuries that are further complicated the moment he turns around and takes one right between the eyes. The steel engulfs his skull, leaving a huge indentation of his face in the can. The Pittsburgh crowd erupts like they witnessed the Penguins winning the Stanley Cup.

Mayne: Noooo, now he used the trashcan! Christian is done, he’s absolutely done for. Men with such fabulous hair do not deserve this type of treatment.

Katie: For once I agree with you.

The trashcan is tossed aside and Too Magnificent falls into the lateral press. All those in the crowd chant along with each slap of the canvas.

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2

NO! Savior kicks out once again, securing the title.

Too Mag’s eyes are on the verge of exploding from their sockets as he glares furiously at the official. If steam could shoot from his nostrils it would and now he’s about to scorch Savior with his rage. Christian feebly attempts to stand, rolling to his knees and grasping at the knee pads of his giant opponent. He employs them to begin reaching his feet, standing up just as Too Magnificent cocks back his fist and unloads with a straight right hand. The blow sends Christian staggering back into the ropes and falling against them.

Too Magnificent steps in and grabs Christian by the wrist before shooting him off across the ring. Shockingly though, Savior turns and counters, pulling the challenger forward into a knee to the ribs that doubles him over. Christian then takes off into the cables at his side, ricocheting off. He charges straight at the golden goliath only to be caught under the big man’s arm, elevated into the air and dropped with a side slam. All the air is taken out of Christian’s body as it almost implodes against the canvas.

Mayne: This just keeps getting worse with every passing second, just like every movie starring Mary Kate and Ashley Olson.

The Magnificent One isn’t taking anymore chances as he gestures to the top rope. An orgasmic reaction emanates from the crowd as he approaches the corner, slips through the ropes and begins to scale the turnbuckle. The fans are excited, adrenaline surging at the sight of Too Magnificent reaching the top cable preparing for the Arrogance is Bliss.

Katie: What is that fat ass doing?

Mayne: Something that will undoubtedly scar us for life.

Too Magnificent stands tall, knowing that if he can connect with his top rope leg drop the title will be his. He flies through the air and with an extension of his leg he connects…..with canvas. Savior rolled out of the way just moments before his fate could be sealed.

Mayne: He avoided it, he avoided having his head popped like a pimple.

The air has been taken from the sails of the crowd as they watch with abject horror. Savior rises and then comes barreling towards the seated Too Magnificent only to be shoved back by the big man. Christian drops into a reverse roll ending up on his feet then rushing in once again. This time he digs both of his hands right into Too Magnificent’s eyes, targeting the area of his body that was horribly scorched by Riggs at 2 For 1 Special.

He rips at the eyes as Too Magnificent roars in agony. The official starts a five count, threatening to disqualify Savior for his illegal and barbaric tactics. Christian isn’t about to stop though, actually wanting to be DQed so he can escape this match with his title. Finally it takes Too Magnificent prying the hands away from his eyes and delivering an uppercut to save what remains of his vision.

Christian staggers back but then leaps forward and hits a diving elbow to the forehead of his demented challenge. Too Magnificent is down but Christian is right back on his feet. In fact, he puts one of those feet directly to Too Magnificent’s eyes and begins to grind the heel back and forth.

Once again the official is forced to intervene, this time he physically pulls Christian back. Savior then shoves the referee aside and drops down to the canvas, grinding his wrist tape across the eyes of the Golden One.

Mayne: This may be the most brilliant strategy I’ve ever seen, and I once played Stratego.

Steward: From what this teleprompter is telling me, Too Funky was blinded at the last pay-per-view thanks to a fireball from Riggs, so that’s why Christian is going after his eyes. Thank you teleprompter for all that utterly useless information.

Mayne: Why did you even read it?

Steward: Because it takes the effort out of coming up with awesome comments on a weekly basis. I get paid regardless of what effort I put in, so why work hard?

Billy: I love you.

The referee is working for his money tonight, grabbing Christian by the arm and pulling him away from Too Magnificent. Christian casts him off and goes right back to work on the goliath. He delivers rapid fire rights to the big man’s face, shot after shot connecting to the skull. Too Magnificent tries to cover up but it’s of no use, he’s being thoroughly pummeled by the dangerous Savior.

Despite being subjected to this series of shots Too Magnificent starts to stand, getting his knees beneath him. That’s when he wedges his hands to Christian’s gut and shoves him back a few steps. This gives the challenger just enough time to reach his feet although he’s still having great difficulty seeing. Christian rushes forward to take advantage, leaping into the air and wedging his knees to the sternum of the golden one.

Too Magnificent hooks the creases of the knees though, refusing to be hit with the Original Sin. The Master of Manipulation gulps as he’s thrown up and over Too Magnificent’s head. Somehow he adjusts though, slipping over Too Mag’s skull and down his back, catching him around the waist on the way down. He tries to pull the Magnificent One down into a sunset flip but can’t get over.

Mayne: Here, help me blow Too Magnificent….

Steward: What you do in your spare time and who you do it with is none of my concern.

Mayne: What?....WAIT. No, no, I meant blow him over.

Steward: Sure you did.

Too Magnificent stops flailing his arms, forms a fist and drives it down right into Christian’s face. But wait, no, Savior slid out of the way, causing the fist to slam into the canvas, possibly fracturing it on impact. Too Magnificent doubles over, wincing in pain and grasping at his swelling hand. He remains in his bent forward position as he turns towards Christian, suddenly finding his head trapped in a front chancery.

Savior hoists Too Magnificent up and delivers the Inverted DDT, driving his skull into the canvas. Too Mag rolls to his back and Savior scurries into the cover, hooking a leg for the three.

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Too Magnificent’s shoulder evades the canvas meaning that he has evaded defeat as well.

Billy: That was three, come on ref, THAT WAS THREE.

Steward: Do you even know how to count?

Billy: Of course I do, I learned how in the fifth grade.

In a fit Christian storms across the ring and snatches up the very trashcan partially responsible for the welt on his head. He intends to employ it as a weapon only to have the can snatched out of his clutches from behind. Christian turns around looking irate over the referee’s actions. The official informs him that the trashcan is only legal for Too Magnificent.

Mayne: Dammit, this match is so unfair. It’s like being forced to do commentary with Adam Sharper.

Steward: Ewww….you just made me cringe.

Savior quickly turns his focus back towards Too Magnificent who suddenly launches a right hand directly into his ribcage. Christian is doubled over before being stood back up straight thanks to an uppercut strike. The blow has sent Savior backing across the ring, desperately trying to maintain his balance.

Too Magnificent can feel the momentum shifting back into his favor. He reaches his feet and steps in for a knock out shot only to have Christian avoid it in the process of delivering the enzugari to the back of his skull. Too Magnificent drops to his elbows and knees, clutching at the back of his skull. The confidence in Christian is beginning to grow as he arrogantly steps over Too Magnificent’s back placing him in almost a camel clutch. Instead of applying a submission hold however, he begins to deliver some violent crossfaces targeting the eyes of his opposition.

The fans are just as remorseless as Savior, who continues to exploit whatever cheap tactics he needs to pick up the win. Finally he steps back and delivers a straight kick to the orbital socket of his opposition. Too Magnificent rolls to his spine clutching at his eyes and wincing in pain while Savior spots something that strikes his fancy.

Steward: Where is he going? He’s not going to consort with these primates in the audience is he?

Mayne: If he is tell him to pick me up a beer.

For no particular reason Christian decides to roll to the outside of the ring, approaching a fan holding a “Too Magnificent > God” sign. After slapping the sign out of his hands he reaches over the barrier, grabs the Pittsburgh Steelers jersey the fan is wearing and rips it off his body. The crowd cuts lose with a verbal tirade as Savior rolls back into the ring with the Roethlisberger jersey in hand then uses it to blow his nose.

Billy: Hahahahaha, awesome and classy.

To further disrespect the fans Christian throws the jersey to the canvas then uses it to wipe his feet. Finally he kicks the jersey out of the ring getting nuclear heat for his action. He sneers towards the fans then steps over the back of the kneeling Too Magnificent. He wraps his arms around the face, making sure his wrist tape is dug into the big man’s eyes in the process. Too Magnificent is calling out in pain as Christian continues to employ every cheap tactic possible in order to leave here tonight Cartel Champion.

Steward: I hope Too Maggoty passes out soon, I would love to get out of PITS-burgh, sooner rather than later.

Christian can feel the challenger’s strength fading, realizing that he is on the cusp of victory, on the brink of retaining his Cartel Championship. With a sudden upward thrust from Too Magnificent, Christian’s perception is drastically altered. He now finds himself hanging from the back of his opponent, desperately keeping the arms wrapped around his head.

The passionate roars from the crowd drive Too Magnificent to hook Christian’s forearms, yank them down and send Savior flipping over his head. Christian flips forward then comes crashing down directly into the steel trashcan he attempted to use earlier.

Savior cries out in anguish as his back takes the brunt of the punishment.

Billy: Oooooooh how vicious, how depraved, how, how, how…..

Katie: We get it already, your disgusted, don’t oversell it.

With his spinal column possibly fractured Savior writhes on the canvas. Despite his back trauma he begins to stand up, forcing himself to his feet. He just reaches an upright base when the mangled trashcan is tossed to him. Instinctively Christian catches the flying item only to have Too Magnificent deliver a pumpkick to the steel that drives it right back into his sternum with bone fracturing force.

Mayne: OHHHHHH! This imagery is scarring my brain.

Steward: Just like your voice is scarring my ears.

The fans are rocking the building as they react to Too Magnificent’s dominant display. He turns in circles, overlooking his Pittsburgh peers and then transferring his gaze back to the banged up Phoenix. Christian clutches desperately at his chest, which may be split straight down the middle at this point.

Too Magnificent isn’t through with him by a long shot. He takes the mangled can into his hands and approaches the turnbuckle, beginning to force it through the top and middle rope, wedging it firmly in place.

Mayne: Hasn’t he done enough? Is his bloodlust unquenchable?

Steward: Your Goddess thinks he’s the type who enjoys torturing others, hence why he would come out of his house with that haircut.

With the crowd feeding him their energy Too Magnificent turns towards the riled Savior. Christian is employing the ropes to drag his battered torso upward before being snatched by the shoulder, spun around and taken by the back of the head. He is now rushed across the ring and finds himself seconds from being introduced skull first into the trashcan.

In a last second act Christian ducks down and slips out of Too Magnificent’s fingers, causing the challenger to stagger into the corner. He then turns around as Savior bends forward and lunges in for the Spear of Destiny. The crowd squeals before drastically changing their reaction when Too Mag steps out of the way and launches Christian head first into the trashcan.

Billy: BRRRRAAAAHHH!

Christian staggers back looking absolutely brain dead before being caught around the thigh and pulled over into the school boy. The fans are on their feet counting along as the official slaps the canvas. Everyone can feel an epic title change in the works.

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2

Christian’s shoulder escapes the canvas seconds before the title changes hands.

Katie: That was too close for your Goddess’ liking.

Frustration begins to set in for Too Magnificent, who is driven to desperate measures. He takes a firm grasp on Christian’s hair and then yanks him up to his feet before eventually trapping him in the front chancery.

Mayne: Don’t tell me we’re going to see this stupid, ridiculous finishing move. Argh, I hate everything about Too Magnificent, and something tells me I’m going to hate him even more after this maneuver.

Steward: I think I already hate him sufficiently.

The Midas Touch is in store for the Rising Phoenix, much to the delight of the Pittsburgh natives. That is until Christian SAVES himself by swinging out of the chancery and turning towards Too Magnificent, snatching him by his wrist. Before Christian can deliver any sort of big counter he’s yanked forward right into a short arm lariat to the throat that nearly turns him inside out.

Christian goes down to the canvas with Too Magnificent falling to his knees beside him. Both men are exasperated but Too Magnificent has one motivating factor that Christian lacks, the support of his hometown crowd. They give him just the boost he needs to reach his feet and slash his arms through the air, calling for the end.

Billy: This isn’t happening. Should we do something Goddess? Maybe you should flash Too Mongrel to distract him. OWWWW, did you really have to give me a titty twister?

Steward: No, but it entertains me.

Victory is within Too Magnificent’s grasp. The shaken Christian tries to get up only for Too Magnificent to step in and once again trap his skull in the front chancery, setting up for the Midas Touch to the delight of thousands. That’s when his attention deviates from the task at hand to the figure leaping to the apron. Suzie Clover flails her arms through the air, as if she’s trying to distract both the challenger and the official. Referee Fitzpatrick steps in and barks orders at Suzie, DEMANDING she get away from the ring.

Suzie isn’t doing as she’s told, not one who responds well to authority. As she and the official bicker Too Magnificent is suddenly dragged away from Christian and spun around to face the N.H.B Champion, Riggs. The Painted Warrior takes a swig of tequila from the bottle in his hand, retracts his head and spits straight into the Golden Goliath’s eyes.

Mayne: Ha, yes, NOO!

This time Too Magnificent is able to duck the blinding mist and step around behind Riggs. The Painted Warrior spins to face him and receives a straight five knuckle shot to the eye, taking him down to the canvas. Riggs rolls out of the ring with Too Magnificent pursuing him, the N.H.B Champion’s plans botched by the hometown hero.

Riggs finally spills to the outside with Too Magnificent glaring down at him mumbling obscenities. He turns away from the ropes and storms towards his opponent only to nearly be sliced in two thanks to the Spear of Destiny.

Mayne: Christian hits it, he hits his spear. Good golly he’s hit his spear.

Katie: Would you stop orgasming already?

A dazed Christian falls into the cover and barely has the strength to hook Too Magnificent’s leg. Suzie drops down off the apron and assists Riggs to his seat as the two watch what could possibly be the closing moments of this match.

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3

The Pittsburgh natives are justifiably IRATE.

Mayne: YEAH! Christian, despite overwhelming odds, RETAINS his Cartel Title. This is a thing of beauty, sheer, unadulterated BEAUTY!

Steward: It’s about time he put down Too Yucky. Now we don’t have to look at him anymore.

Too Magnificent clutches at his ribs and listens to the crowd’s disappointing tones. Their disappointment couldn’t possibly compare to his own. After coming so close to achieving his dream of capturing the Cartel Title here in the place of his birth, in front of family and friends, he finds that dream deferred, robbed of his destiny by the intrusive Riggs and Suzie Clover.

Mayne: This is as awe inspiring as the end to a Disney film. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.

Katie: Save your tears. You’ll have plenty of time to cry when your cutting up that twelve pound bag of onions.

Billy: Your eating that many onions?

Steward: No. I’m just gonna have you cut them up for my own morbid entertainment.

Riggs and Suzie hang around to enjoy the fruits of their labors, watching Too Magnificent writhe in physical and emotional pain. He rolls to the outside and drops to his knees, burying his head in his hands while the Painted Warrior and his mischievous gal pal cackle like ravens.

Inside of the ring Christian is now in the midst of celebrating with his Cartel and IWC World Title belts. He picks them both up off of the canvas and raises them high above his head, a grin sweeping across his exhausted features. He is so fatigued that the weight of the belts brings him down to his knees, yet he refuses to put them down.

Mayne: Christian decked out in so much gold he looks like Mr. T. Just without that super cool hair style.

Katie: I pity the fool who thinks they gonna beat Christian Savior.

Mayne: And that fool was Too Magnificent tonight, hahahahaha.

NINE TENTHS OF THE LAW…

The crestfallen fans continue to watch Christian celebrate his successful Cartel Title defense. They find themselves disgusted with his win AND with the fact that he’s still holding the IWC Championship.

Mayne: I’ve never been so satisfied in my life, barring my brief sexual fling with Katelyn Buehler.

Katie: Emphasis on the word “brief.”

The IWC World Title belt is pulled close to Christian’s cheek, the Rising Phoenix whispering sweet nothings to the gold. His awkward celebration continues, raising the title above his head, until the moment is ruined by the intrusion of one Dan Douglas. Before Christian can even respond the belt is ripped out of his clutches by the IWC President, who makes a hasty retreat.

Mayne: Heeeey. Douglas just took the Championship away from Christian. Is there a crack in his gord or something?

Steward: Who knows. All I do know is that Dan has a bigger ego than me, and that’s just frightening.

Savior looks on in complete and utter shock as Douglas steps to the apron throwing the World Title over his shoulder.

Douglas: This is for your own good Christian. You’ll thank me later.

Somehow Christian isn’t settled by these comments. He rises from his knees beginning to question Douglas’ motives, but he gets no explanation from the IWC President who is high tailing it up the ramp. Dan briefly turns back to face Christian, offering one last comment.

Dan: I’ll fix everything, don’t worry….

Before he can finish placating Christian the house lights dim and…Sandstorm by Darude…tears through the building, getting everyone’s adrenaline flowing. The fans leap from their seats with wide eyes and dropped jaws as Jake Starr materializes on the stage.

Billy: Dammit, I thought it was early onset dementia when I saw Starr show up earlier tonight, but nooooo, he’s actually here in the flesh.

Katie: My upchuck reflex has just been activated.

The SCW Champion arrives without his title belt, but fully intends on leaving here tonight with gold in hand. He lurks on the stage glaring down at Savior who has leapt to his feet like a fire were lit under his ass. Clearly Christian hadn’t anticipated Jake actually taking him up on his challenge. Douglas whips around and finds himself eye to eye with Starr, causing the CEO to shake in his booties. However, he tries to put up a false front, suddenly becoming macho.

Douglas: What are you doing in my building. I’m handling this whole fiasco, you showing up here tonight helps nobody. So turn around and get the hell out of her….

Dan’s jaw is shut by the right hand connecting with it. The crowd explodes at the sight of Jake Starr putting Dan on the dirt.

Mayne: He just….he just….he just STRUCK the IWC President. Jake Starr punched out Douglas! Is he out of his MIND!?!

Katie: Erm, you have to have a mind in order to lose it.

Jake shakes his sore knuckles and then reaches down to grab HIS championship. The belt is slipped from an unconscious Douglas’ shoulder and extended across Starr’s palms. He lifts the gold and then winks in the direction of the Rising Phoenix. Christian is positively spastic.

Christian: Where are you going, your not going anywhere with MY title.

All Starr does is chuckle.

Savior: Come down here Starr, get into this ring, face me. FACE ME! If you want that title you have to beat me for it. I’ll come looking for you Starr, I’ll never give up, you’ll never have one second of peace….

Mayne: That’s right, you tell ‘em Savior. You make Starr pay for decking Douglas like that. Ya see, unlike Starr, Christian never backs down from a challenge.

Katie: Yes, well, about fifty percent of the time.

Billy: Right.

Steward: Or maybe forty five percent of the time.

After giving the screaming fans a brief glance Jake rolls his eyes and then comes barreling straight down the ramp.

Mayne: We’re about to see it, SCW and IWC Champion’s collide!

Starr moves so quick that Christian barely even has time to react. He rushes forward only to be speared to the ribs the moment that Jake slides into the ring. Savior goes down with Starr on top of him, unloading with rights and lefts, jabs connecting to both sides of Christian’s skull.

Billy: Uhhhh, this isn’t how I envisioned this going down.

Christian continues to crudely cover his skull against this physical onslaught from the SCW World Champion. Jake is just pummeling the man who he believes STOLE his gold. This thrashing continues until a well placed kick connects to Jake’s temple and knocks him off of his victim. Starr rolls to his seat and gets only a brief glimpse of the boot headed straight into his face. Porno Lad delivers a running kick that puts Jake on his back and rattles his brain.

Mayne: Hahahaha, it’s Porno Lad, he’s come to help out his Five Star Society compatriot and pummel Starr in the process.

Katie: I was about to intervene myself before I realized I wasn’t dressed for the occasion.

The maniacal Porno Lad stands over Jake trembling thanks to the numerous emotions hitting him all at once. He begins to step in to continue victimizing Starr before Savior cuts him off. Christian leaps onto Jake and begins to pummel him with right hand after right hand to the face. The Cartel Champion is livid, rage fueling each one of the blows that connect to Jake’s face. All Porno Lad does is stand back and watch, his eyes a window to his conflicted emotions.

Mayne: It’s so great to see Porno Lad and Christian Savior working as a team again. Their relationship as of late has been so rocky but it seems that they’ve put their issues aside for the greater good.

Katie: Beating up Starr has a way of uniting people of all religions, creeds, sects, so forth.

Mayne: It’s like hands across America.

Christian continues to pound Jake’s face into hamburger before he finally reaches across the ring and grabs the IWC World Title belt. No one can make sense out of his disjointed comments as he shouts at Starr. Christian props up Jake’s skull and forces it against the gold plate as he literally rubs his ownership of the title in Sarr’s face.

After making his case Savior rises to his feet and lifts the IWC Title high above his head to unanimous jeers from the sold out crowd.

Steward: What an inspiring visual.

Christian turns to face his Five Star Society associate only to receive the Epic Fail in the process.

Mayne: WHOA!

The spinning superkick drills Savior right under the jaw and puts him on his back to a mixed reaction from a shocked crowd. Porno Lad steps over him convulsing, flailing his arms in all directions and becoming highly animated.

Billy: Why did ya, why’d ya, how come ya…..why Porno Lad?

Katie: He’s absolutely flipped his lid.

Shock hangs over the crowd as Porno Lad makes his motives far clearer by snatching the IWC title from the canvas. He then lifts it above his head receiving jeers from the sold out crowd.

Mayne: Now Porno Lad is taking the title? Who else is going to make a claim to the championship, Andy Richter? Wait, who the hell is Andy Richter?

The IWC Championship glistens above the number one contender’s head as Porno Lad begins to shout towards the jeering audience.

Porno Lad: Your not gonna rob me of my perfect Paranoia…..

He sets his sights on the unconscious Christian and the barely coherent Starr.

Porno Lad: I’ll face MYSELF for the title if I have to.

The gold is flung over Porno Lad’s shoulder and he now begins to back towards the ropes, absolutely fuming mad. It appears that he is on the verge of leaving the ring with gold in hand before all lights in the building drop into solid darkness.

Mayne: Ohhhhhh wonderful. Not this garbage again. Why do we have one of these random power outages every friggin week?

Katie: This can only mean one thing…..that ratings are about to take a dive because Jason Zero is out here.

After a prolonged period of blackness the lights rise and reveal that Porno Lad has wisely vacated the ring and now stands safely on the stage. A grin cracks the unstable features of the paranoid prankster, who exited the ring under the shroud of darkness and in the process evaded Zero. However, the grin fades once Porno Lad realizes that Zero isn’t in the ring. As a result he tentatively turns around and falls victim to the Chaos Theory right on the stage. Jason Zero was crouched behind him all the while, having anticipated Porno Lad’s every movement.

Mayne: Nooo, this is worse than listening to Brooke Hogan sing. Porno Lad taking the STO on the stage.

The Prankster writhes, clutching at both his ribs and his spine, every inch of his anatomy antagonized by the collision with the stage. The crowd is at a fevered pitch at this point as Zero snatches up the IWC World Title belt and backs towards the curtains. He holds the back of his head still reeling from the attack by Porno Lad earlier in the night, yet nothing could keep him from intervening and reclaiming the IWC Championship.

Mayne: Bring that title back here Zero, its not yours anymore…..right? Or is it?

Steward: I don’t have a clue WHO the champion is suppose to be. I say they just give the belt to me.

Mayne: That’s BRILLIANT.

Katie: Of course, it came from my mouth.

Porno Lad, Jake Starr, Christian Savior and Dan Douglas all writhe in or around the ring as Zero travels backstage with the World Title over his shoulder.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

The ULTIMATE PSA

A NEW DAY, A NEW ICON

The show returns with a close up on, not feet, but something equally as smelly, Billy Mayne. An excited expression drapes his face as the Riot! entrance music ushers us in from commercial break.

Mayne: Things just keep on getting more and more intriguing around here…..

Katie: Hey, wait, whoa. Why do you open the show with a close up on Billy Mayne? Are you out of your mind? That’s no way to come back from a commercial break. That’s like airing a River Angelus match after the commercial break. Your basically spitting in the faces of the viewers if you open with a shot of my minion, and not with a shot of my beautiful, ratings grabbing face.

Mayne: Sorry for not being as beautiful as you Goddess.

Steward: You should be sorry.

Billy: Before the commercial break chaos ensued, and now Jason Zero has left with the IWC World Championship, but not until after Porno Lad superkicked Christian Savior, and attacked Jake Starr.

Katie: He’s one slippery character. That’s why he, and I deserve to be World Champions. We cut throats and dominate in that ring. Plus we both look good in tights.

Mayne: I don’t know how Christian Savior is going to react to Porno Lad trying to take off with the belt and leveling him with the Epic Fail? Have we seen the end of the Five Star Society already? Are they breaking apart at the seams? And what are Starr and Porno Lad going to do to Zero after all this? What lengths will they go to in order to take back the Championship? I’m excited yet pensive….

YOU KNOW MY NAME

These words tear through the speakers and brings life to the stunned audience. Everyone simultaneously leaps to their feet as if they were shocked straight on the buns. They are positively electrified at the sight of Orlando Cruze swaggering through the curtains to the stage.

Mayne: Again, I thought I was hallucinating when I saw this earlier.

Katie: Nope. Unlike you, I don’t spike the tea of others.

Billy: I could maybe tolerate seeing Jake Starr in an IWC arena, but Orlando Cruze, come on now, your asking a little too much.

Steward: If only the Five Star Society could have finished him off permanently. Looks like I have to do everything around here.

The Icon receives a standing ovation that rocks the Indoor Sports Arena, Orlando getting the reception that he deserves. After enduring the lethal spike piledriver on his injured head much speculation had been made about Cruze EVER showing up in a ring again, but here he stands tonight, once again defying the odds. He slaps every palm on his way to the ring before starting up the stairs to the apron and slipping through the ropes into the ring. A “Cruze” chant kicks in the moment he steps to the center of the ring, mic in hand, music dying out.

Mayne: Orlando’s here and he’s got something on his mind.

Katie: Yeah, a tumor.

Mayne: Hahahahahahaha, oh Goddess, oh Goddess that was hilarious.

Orlando hides the tears in his eyes with a pear of expensive designer shades.

Orlando: Anyone else, besides me, happy to see Orlando standing in an IWC ring?

The pop could be heard on the moon.

Cruze: You know, a lot of people didn’t think they would see me standing here again. They thought that the Five Star Society ended my career for good.

The mood changes, the crowd vindictively tearing into the very group being referenced.

Orlando: And truth be told, all those rumors, all that gossip, was partially true.

Mayne: Awesome, so very, very awesome.

Katie: Take your hand out of your trousers Minion. There’s no reason to be THAT excited about it.

Cruze: Thanks to Porno Lad and Christian Savior, I will NEVER be able to compete in this ring again.

Orlando looks far more grave, the crowd becoming solemn in response.

Orlando: Everyone told me not to come here tonight, that even standing here before you was risking my life. The doctors stressed the importance of me being nowhere in the vicinity of steel chairs, baseball bats, chains and big hairy men who have the tendency to hit you in the head with them. So standing here now, probably isn’t the smartest idea. But hey, I have an excuse, major head trauma, remember.

He taps his temple to laughter from the crowd.

Orlando: But in all seriousness. Even as my wife and children begged me to stay away, they knew it was important for me to come here tonight, clear the air about all the rumors and have one last moment with you, the fans.

He gestures to a crowd that literally explodes. The man who lit the dynamite continues speaking in a very serious tone.

Orlando: And I want this to be a moment EVERYONE remembers. Orlando Cruze does not intend on leaving with a whimper, I’m going out with a BANG.

He points to the ring and emphatically stomps his foot.

Cruze: If I’m being forced out of this ring then I’m not going to make things easy for those responsible. Let’s just say that I’ve ensured that the likes of Christian Savior, Porno Lad, and Dan Douglas are going to be miserable. They’re going to be in for HELL! Why? Because in my last official act here in the IWC, my last bold decree, my final proclamation, I am announcing that I have SOLD my interest in this company.

Mayne: Bluh?

The crowd is both shocked and tentative.

Orlando: I sold my shares to someone who has a very vested interest in seeing the IWC continue to grow, continue to flourish. Someone I know will really make things interesting around here, and won’t let his ego dominate his judgment. Plus, I think he’ll make the Five Star Society regret putting me out of action. I’d introduce them to you right here tonight, but they demanded anonymity. As part of the agreement I will not disclose their identity until Paranoia VII.

Mayne: He can’t…..he’s not allowed to do that. How dare he leave me in suspense.

Orlando: And with that said, with my ties cut to the IWC, I have one last thing I’d like to share Goodbye to each and everyone of you, and thanks for supporting me through the good times and the rough times. Thanks for being there through it ALL. You’ll never know how much your support has meant to me over the years. It tears me up inside knowing that I have to disappoint all those who had faith in me. I know everyone expected me to hang around for a while, run this company, keep it from being ripped apart by the Five Star Society. But I HAVE to walk away now. If I’m on this roster or in the head office I’ll always be drawn back to the ring. And I can’t have that. I can’t put those I love through it anymore. They deserve better. They deserve their husband. They deserve their father. They deserve their Icon.

He salutes the crowd with his microphone before heading towards the ropes.

Jackson: What an emmmmmoooootional moment.

Jackson Adams steps through the curtains, microphone in hand and Submission Title over his shoulder. He makes a sad puppy dog face in Orlando’s direction. Cruze cools his jets, stepping back to the center of the ring stoically watching Jackson inch down the ramp.

Adams: Seriously, Orlando, you had me reaching for my Kleenex’s backstage. You made me sob worse than any movie starring Richard Gere. It’s like you’re a male version of the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.

The emotional crowd rips Jackson to shreds as he slips through the ropes into the ring.

Jackson: You really know how to tug at my heart strings, Lando. But before you could start bleeding from your vagina I had to come out and wish you well in your future endeavors.

The smarmy grin and smarmy comments are not taken lightly by the Icon, who’s final moment has now been ruined by the intrusion of Mr. Adams.

Adams: I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see you off, first hand Lando. And to thank you on behalf of the entire IWC roster.

There are some cheers, several of the denser fans actually taking the bait.

Jackson: I know I’m not the only one who wants to show appreciation.

He offers his palm but quickly retracts it, snapping his fingers as he tries to clarify himself.

Adams: Oh wait, before you misunderstand. My appreciation has NOTHING to do with what you’ve accomplished here in the ring. No, no, no. What I appreciate, is the fact that your finally walking away from it.

His comments are almost drowned in boos. Orlando rubs the back of his neck and shakes his head, trying to maintain his cool.

Jackson: All I can say is it’s about damn time you realized you don’t have it anymore. That you’ve faced up to your short comings and understand that you can’t handle the talent on this roster.

Clear by the look on Orlando’s face, Jackson is wwwwwaaaaayy off base.

Jackson: That is of course if you actually ARE leaving this time. How many of these sob speeches have you given about being with your wife and your kids, and living a life of obscurity? Are you for real this time, or is it just retirement speech number 785? Is this just another attempt by you to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes? Are you just trying to get a little more sympathy? Is that it, Cruze? Is it? Are you playing with their emotions just so you can confirm how much they love you? It makes me sick, Orlando. I’m appalled that you would put these people through this again, that you would keep tormenting them like this.

Although he claims to be standing up for the crowd they are still unreceptive to his opinions.

Adams: But I’m sickened most of all by your attempts to turn the IWC into your own personal Spanish soap opera. This isn’t the TNT network, Cruze, we don’t love drama around here. No, what these people love, is wrestling. They don’t want to see hypocrites like you come out here, kiss their ass and try to force their sympathy? If you don’t have anything left to offer to this company in a wrestling capacity then you have no place here period. You shouldn’t be lingering around just so you can get your face on TV and steal a precious few seconds more of the spotlight. If you can’t go in this ring, then you shouldn’t be in it.

Orlando can only shake his head to these comments. He doesn’t even feel obliged to offer a response.

Jackson: So if you’re leaving Cruze, then leave. Stop torturing these poor, fickle people. But if this is just another one of your classic Steel Magnolias moments, then reward these fans you’ve pestered for far too long. Stop all you’re whining and crying. Lace up your boots again, wrap up your wrists, slip on those elbow pads and step in this ring not as a Julia Roberts wannabe but as a wrestler. Face me, Cruze, face me at Paranoia VII.

The reaction from the crowd changes, everyone wholeheartedly endorsing the notion of seeing Orlando wrestle one last time at the biggest stage of them all. Cruze quietly contemplates his answer before finally offering up a response.

Cruze: My answer is……no.

The crowd is a little disappointed, as is Adams.

Orlando: I’d love to step in the ring one last time. But I can’t, Adams, and you know that. You saw what the Five Star Society did to me, you saw me taken out of here on a stretcher. I suffered such injuries to my head that it’s a miracle I’m even able to walk, talk and breathe on my own, let alone stand in this ring tonight. And that’s the only reason you’re making this challenge. You know I couldn’t possibly accept it.

Adams: No, it’s not “couldn’t” it’s “wouldn’t.” Your only dodging my challenge because you know you CAN’T beat me, especially at Paranoia VII. This has nothing to do with injuries and everything to do with FEAR. You’re terrified of me, Orlando. Your terrified that I’ll reveal your shortcomings to the WHOLE world.

Jackson is now the one shaking his head, face twisting with repulsion.

Jackson: So go ahead, Orlando. Walk away. But know you’ll be doing so with a whimper and not the bang that you promised. Know you’ll be leaving this ring the same way you have so many times throughout your career, after disappointing all your fans.

Orlando rolls his eyes, knowing there is no merit behind Jackson’s comments, but they sting nevertheless. To make his point a bit more emphatic Adams retracts his head and spits straight into Orlando’s face. The crowd reacts violently to this action, watching as the saliva drips down the Icon’s cheek and spills from his chin.

Jackson: Your no Icon, your not even a man.

The mic plummets to the canvas and Adams begins to exit the ring before a surprisingly stoic Orlando responds.

Orlando: Oh, one last thing.

He swipes the spit from his face.

Cruze: I forgot to mention that my retirement opens up a spot on the IWC roster. One that I’ve already had filled.

Jackson’s face twists into a grin.

Jackson: Oh really? What reject have you brought in for me to humiliate now? What washed up has-been have you procured from the retirement home? Let me guess, you signed some SCW freeloader who will show up for one week and then up and vanish? Come on, spill the beans.

Orlando: Actually, I’ll allow him to do his own introduction. Why don’t you turn around and greet him.

Adams is confused up until he turns and finds himself eye to eye with a hooded figure. The hood is drawn back and the individual reveals his face. His identity is unbeknownst by the majority of the IWC roster but his actions immediately endear him to them. He cocks back his fist causing Adams to leap from his feet and tumble to his seat. Without so much as throwing a punch, this mysterious figure has sent Jackson scampering from the ring.

Cruze: Jackson, meet my brother, Shaun Cruze. I think the two of you will be getting to know each other very well over the next few weeks.

You Know My Name hits the PA system to a rousing reaction. The crowd is mystified by what they’ve witnessed as Orlando has brought a NEW Icon into the IWC, his own brother. Jackson watches from ringside with disdain as Orlando and Shaun step to parallel corners and ascend to the second rope. They point out over the squealing crowd.

Mayne: Oh terrific. As if one Cruze wasn’t bad enough. Now we’ve got two of them?

Katie: It’s like we’ve been sucked into the seventh circle of hell.

The celebration continues to a deafening roar from the crowd.

IN SIMON WE TRUST

A fatigued Ackart props his foot up on a bench as he unlaces his boots in the lockeroom. With a towel over his shoulder and sweat still dripping from his skin it’s obvious that Daniel is now suffering the aftershocks of what was a physically demanding encounter earlier tonight.

Simon: HA-HA-HA. Nice work out there tonight, Boy.

Ackart looks up and smirks as Cagero strolls into the locker-room. He offers up his hand and Daniel quickly takes it.

Cagero: You went out there and showed just how ruthless of a motherfucker you can be.

Daniel: Well hey, I couldn’t of done it without your constant inspiration.

Simon: Fuck yourself.

The two chuckle. Ackart finally breaks away to continue taking off his boot.

Simon: So you won your debut match huh? Hope you realize how many doors that opens to you here in the IWC.

Daniel: Don’t worry, if there are any doors still closed I’ll knock them down. It’s only a matter of time before the Motherfuckers of America are back on top with my name on the marquee as Daniel Ackart, IWC World Heavyweight Champion.

Cagero scoffs.

Cagero: Who knows, maybe one day we’ll both be main eventing Paranoia VII, squaring off for the World Heavyweight Title.

Ackart: Motherfuckers the world over will weep on that day.

Simon tries to delicately broach the next topic.

Simon: So um, have you seen AWOL around?

There is a delay from Ackart.

Ackart: Ummm, no, not since he dissed us earlier. Is he normally so moody?

Cagero: I don’t know. He just hasn’t been the same since that bloodbath with Hudson at 2 For 1 Special. And I don’t think being kidnapped helped either.

Ackart: I don’t imagine it would.

Simon: I just hope he can get some control over himself before I wrestle Riggs. If he tries to get involved to take out another member of Generation Now, who knows what will happen.

Ackart: Bad things son, bad things.

Too Magnificent: SIMON! SIIIIMOOOOON!

Speaking of bad things…..the door to the locker-room is almost ripped from its hinges as Too Magnificent explodes into the chamber. His face is twisted with rage, his whole body teeming with intensity.

Too Magnificent: Did ya see? Did ya see what that son of a bitch did to me out there?

He turns and drives his boot into one of the lockers, crushing the steel and knocking the door off.

Too Magnificent: FUUUUUUCK!

Now he begins driving his fist into the locker over and over again until his knuckles tear open.

Too Magnificent: He cost me EVERYTHING.

He headbutts the locker.

Simon: Whoa, whoa, calm down, breathe. What are you babbling about?

Too Magnificent: Riggs cost me the Cartel Title, Simon. He screwed me out of the belt in Pittsburgh, PITTSBURGH! I want his fucking head. Do you hear me? I want him DEAD!

Cagero: Alright, alright, alright, just relax. Think. Your gonna be of no use to anyone in this state.

Too Magnificent: I don’t care.

He rips the locker door off and tosses it across the room.

Simon: Too Mag!

Cagero slaps him in the cheek.

Cagero: Listen Motherfucker. I know you want to butcher Riggs, BUT let me deal with him first. This match between he and I has been a long time coming. So you let me get some payback for you, and I promise I’ll save some of him for you to deal with later.

Too Magnificent: That’s not good…..

Simon: It’s gonna have to be good enough. I have enough to worry about with AWOL. If you come out there and get involved all hell will break lose. If you want Riggs, wait until I’m finished with him. DON’T come to that ring.

Simon’s demands are heard loud and clear before he exits. Too Magnificent watches him walk away, still seething. Oddly enough a grin begins form across his face.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

The ULTIMATE nanny

RIGGS VS. SIMON CAGERO
FIRST BLOOD

The Sacrament descends from the speakers unto the ears of the excited crowd. The whole mood changes in the building at the sight of Riggs stepping through the fog on the stage and kneeling in the dim light. With the N.H.B belt around his waist the rather dramatic warrior ascends to his feet and starts down the ramp, his eyes devoid of even the slightest emotion. He slips into the ring, rolls across it and finds himself kneeling in the center. The belt is removed from his waist and held into the air beside his skull.

Mayne: Wow, so many surprises tonight and they just keep on coming. Now the N.H.B Champion Riggs is headed towards the ring, and I can’t wait for him to shock everyone when he rips Simon’s flesh open and gets that blood oozing.

Katie: I’m also looking forward to it, and finding out who the new owner of the IWC is going to be. Maybe they’ll turn this company around and make it befitting of a Goddess.

Billy: Before we find out who Orlando sold his stocks too, which apparently will happen at Paranoia VII, we’re guaranteed to see some blood spill in this main event. We already saw Riggs get involved in Too Magnificent’s match earlier tonight, screwing him out of the Cartel Championship, so Simon’s going to be all fired up going into this one. Too bad he’ll end up being the one with egg…no, no, blood on his face.

Steward: I hope you didn’t think that was creative.

Dwelling in the ring is the Painted Warrior anxious to add a little more paint to his body, via the blood of Simon Cagero on his hands. After almost a year of run ins, beat downs, broken tables, ripped flesh, and epic wars, Riggs is eager for a resolution. He doesn’t have to wait long….

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.

Once inside of the ring Simon throws one arm into the air and then rushes towards the ropes. Riggs, who was still standing outside of the squared circle, has no time to react before Cagero flies through the ropes and connects with a suicide headbunt. Both men are knocked to the mats with the crowd going absolutely nuts.

Mayne: WHOA! That’s not how this match was supposed to get started. Don’t these things normally begin with some obscenely long feeling out session that bores us to tears?

Katie: Unless it’s one of my matches, then your guaranteed constant epicness.

Billy: I guess Simon’s suicidal start to this match just goes to show how much these two hate each other.

Without delay Cagero is back to his feet pummeling Riggs with rights and lefts. The N.H.B Champion can barely stand up as he is victimized with all these strikes from every direction. He is finally spun around, taken by the hair and charged straight at the announce table. Riggs’ face is introduced to the wood, his skull almost fractured thanks to the impact.

Billy: He’s gone feral.

Simon turns Riggs around by the skull and drags him towards the steel steps. His mind races with a flood of images, whether it be Riggs spitting flames into his eyes, or screwing over his partner Too Magnificent moments ago, or delivering a senton bomb that put him through a table. All of these graphic scenes compel Cagero to drive Riggs’ face into the steel.

He pulls back and without delay drives Riggs’ face into the stairs yet again. The crowd barely has time to so much as groan before Riggs’ head is yanked back then driven into the steps for a third straight time. Miraculously Riggs isn’t bleeding yet looks incredible groggy as he falls across the stairs, using them to support his weary body.

Driven by rage Riggs approaches the time keeper, drags them out of their chair and then grabs it out from under him. He then turns, lifts the chair above his head and attempts to deliver a one man conchairto, slamming Riggs’ head between two sides of steel.

The sandwich cannot be completed with a bloody Riggs’ skull as the meat. He backs out of the way, causing the chair to slam into the steps and almost shatter as a result. The impact sends the chair ricocheting back towards Simon, who stops it before it could connect with his face. Riggs helps speed it along though by delivering a dropkick to the chair, driving it right into Simon’s facial features.

The collision sends him spiraling back into the barricade and spilling over into the crowd.

Mayne: Riggs just DEFACED Cagero. Hahahaha, get it? He defaced him!

Steward: Ohhhh wow, I almost find the fact that you still have a job, insulting.

The crowd glares attentively at Cagero’s face, looking for any lacerations that would stop the match. Thankfully for Simon, his face is devoid of any gashes, no blood evident. He turns to his side and grabs the barricade, beginning to use it to reach his feet. He gets both knees beneath him, leaning forward with his forehead wedged to the steel plating.

On the opposite side of the barricade Riggs grabs a steel chair, spots the position of his opponent then pulls off a move that wows the audience. He rushes across the ring, leaps into the air, wedges the chair under his feet and dropkicks it into the barricade. The panel is driven back right into Simon’s face on the opposite side.

Mayne: OHHHH, now that was a creative way to bust somebody open. He gets an A for effort.

Katie: I still wouldn’t pass him. For Christ sakes, he’s a demonic clown. Could you possibly be any less obnoxious?

The official glares over the barricade, checking on Simon. Once he confirms that he isn’t bleeding he motions for the match to continue, and continue it does. Riggs steps towards the barricade and then reaches over, grabbing Simon around the back of the neck. His upper body hangs over the barrier as he attempts to force Cagero up to his feet.

After the two brain scrambling shots from the chair Simon is nothing more than dead weight. Unfortunately for Riggs, he fails to abide to the “appearances can be deceiving” cliché. Cagero pops up to his feet immediately and takes advantage of his rival’s position. He ensnares Riggs’ skull and then drops back, DDTing him face first into the concrete.

Katie: Ouch. I hope Riggs doesn’t mine walking around looking like he was hit in the face with a frying pan. Oh wait, he already does!

Mayne: That’s right. His unappealing face was just made slightly more unappealing thanks to that DDT on the concrete. And it may have ended this match. Double bonus.

The referee is shocked as he surveys Riggs’ condition and finds no bloody openings of any kind. With a sigh he informs Cagero that this match isn’t over. Simon relishes over this announcement, it gives him ample time to dish out more punishment on the Painted Warrior. He slides his hands into Riggs’ hair, forces him up to his feet and then tosses him over the barricade to the thin protective mats.

Riggs’ body rolls across them while Cagero follows, eager to inflict even more punishment. Although he can’t stand Riggs is forced to his feet by Simon and then charged face first right into the exposed steel turnbuckle post. His skull thuds against it and his body goes twisting into the mats, collapsing across them.

Mayne: What is up with Cagero? He’s gone nuttier than a jar of Jiff.

Katie: Maybe he’s experiencing the male version of PMS.

Mayne: Well, something tells me he will be bleeding by the end of this match.

In spite of the many cranial shots he’s taken throughout this match, Riggs starts to stand. He props himself up with the use of his forearms before being taken by the hair, dragged to his feet and finally deposited into the ring. Riggs rolls to the center, swiping his palms across his forehead to confirm that he isn’t bleeding. All the while Cagero climbs to the apron and then up the turnbuckle to the very top rope.

He steadies himself before flying through the air and delivering the senton bomb right across Riggs’ ribcage. The Painted Warrior begins to convulse and flop around like a fish pulled out of water and baking in the hot sun.

Billy: The symbolic senton bomb…..Goddess, I really do love this teleprompter.

Steward: Told you. It saves us so much work just reading the lines the idiots feed us from backstage.

Now the injuries sustained to the head are complicated by the ones inflicting his mid-section. Simon looks to capitalize on both injuries as he scoots across his knees to Riggs’ side, props up his head and begins to deliver right hand after right hand to the hairline. Blood is seconds from gushing it would seem.

Simon isn’t content with the match ending that quickly though, not until he’s used a weapon that has taken a significant toll on both their bodies over the past year. He slips to the outside of the ring, throws the tarp into the air and retrieves a table.

Mayne: A table? Seriously? How are you going to bust someone open with that?

Steward: I think Simon was just looking for something a little more wooden than his personality.

With Riggs down Simon takes a few extra moments to stabilize the table, slanting it from the barrier to the floor. He is about to finish setting it up for something huge before his plans are derailed by the Painted Warrior. Riggs surprises him by rolling to the outside and trying to take advantage. He rushes right towards Cagero who catches him under the jaw with a blistering superkick.

Riggs staggers and stumbles, body going limp yet somehow remaining in an upright position.

Billy: Okay, if I were Riggs, I’d like stop trying now.

Katie: He won’t, because he’s just like everyone else on this roster. They refuse to acknowledge their own physical limitations. They can’t ALL be like me, you know, limitless.

Before Riggs can go down Simon settles, grabbing him by the neck, twisting him and placing him across the diagonal table. Somehow Riggs is able to remain upright and in a very bad position as Cagero rolls back into the ring and prepares to take advantage. He stands up crying out to the crowd.

Simon: Wake up MOTHERFUCCKKKERS!

They all give a resounding pop as Simon now takes off across the ring, building momentum. He ricochets from the far ropes, comes barreling back in and then flips over the top cable, crashing with a senton pancha spine first through the table. Riggs stepped out of the way at the last second, causing this gruesome meeting between table and body.

Mayne: OOOOOOOH SHIT!

Steward: I sincerely hope Simon didn’t intend for that to happen.

Billy: I wouldn’t doubt if he did.

Simon is absolutely motionless at this point, lying upside down amongst the fragments of table without so much as a quiver. The crowd is starting a holy shit chant at the top of their lungs, really getting loud at this point, swept up by the death defying lengths both men are going through to win this match.

The official delights them with the revelation that the match is continuing, no traces of blood found on Simon’s body. A despondent Riggs drags him out of the chunks of wood, wedges his legs under his armpits then drops back, catapulting Cagero face first right into the exposed steel post.

His skull bounces back and his body twists into the mats.

Mayne: That’s it, that’s gotta be it, he’s gotta be bleeding.

Katie: I guess his blood is just as stubborn and slow as he is.

Once again the referee is on hand to check Simon’s condition. This time he presses a towel to his face and then checks it to see if there are any blood stains. There are none, meaning that Cagero is good to go. Riggs is fuming over this fact, so angry that he drops onto Simon’s chest and delivers rabid punch after rabid punch. Still no blood flows, driving Riggs to pull Cagero up and roll him into the ring. He slides in and sits Cagero up, digging his finger nails into his hairline, trying to tear the flesh with his own hands.

Steward: Hmmm, some smart thinking by Riggs. I’m so surprised those words came out of my mouth.

Riggs puts all of his primal fury behind his hands, intent on breaking the flesh and seeing the crimson flow. Cagero roars in anguish, trying feebly to knock the hands away. To the surprise of everyone in the building he actually begins to stand, fighting his way up towards his feet. The crowd wants intently as Simon tries to stand and free himself from this match jeopardizing predicament. He succeeds in getting up, but not in preserving the match. Riggs spins Cagero around, ducks the head under his seat and uses Simon’s belt to lift him up into a pulling piledriver. The top of Cagero’s head slams against the canvas and his body flops over to it’s back, looking completely spent at this point.

Mayne: Piledriver! Is he bleeding? IS HE BLEEDING?

Steward: I can’t tell, and if I could I wouldn’t look too long at Simon’s face to find out.

Riggs barks at the referee, demanding he check Simon for open wounds. Referee Fitzpatrick does a thorough check before letting it be known that the match continues. In a fit Riggs rolls under the ropes in search of his own weapon, retrieving the very chair that has provided him with such assistance throughout this encounter. He rolls into the ring and approaches the struggling Cagero before wrapping the steel around his skull.

Billy: Now things are really starting to get interesting.

Katie: And those are words I never thought I’d hear you say.

Billy: There’s a first time for everything I guess. Including romances.

Katie: If you keep looking at me like that I’m gonna blow my rape whistle.

Billy: I’ve got plenty of other things for you to blow.

With the chair wrapped around an unconscious Cagero’s face Riggs sets into motion the second phase of his barbaric plan. He backs into a turnbuckle and then leaps to the middle rope before slapping his chest with both hands. The crowd reacts with repulsion to his chant then begin to squeal, realizing that he could be on the verge of ending Cagero’s career. Riggs finally takes flight, leaping from the second rope and then stomping down on the chair. The steel is all his foot connects with, Simon freeing his head at the last possible second.

Mayne: Rats. Simon spoils our good time once again. I should know better than to set my hopes high when watching an IWC match.

If Riggs already didn’t have enough to be angry about now he’s been deprived the honor of ending Simon’s career. He snatches up the chair refusing to be denied. The aggressive Champion storms towards a recovering Riggs who suddenly leaps to his feet, traps Riggs neck and then delivers the Break the Silence, driving his rival into the very chair he was holding. The downward spiral plants Riggs into the steel and sends him flopping to his back, lying right alongside the former World Champion.

A stunned Fitzpatrick overlooks both men, the crowd now positive that Riggs has been split open like a watermelon.

Billy: Is it over? It’s GOT to be over after that.

Katie: I’m crossing my fingers now.

The official stands up and confirms to everyone that the match is………still going!

Mayne: Yooooooou’ve gotta be shittin’ me!

The crowd is just as stunned by the fact that Riggs isn’t bleeding. With fatigue and pain limiting his physical movements Cagero tries to get up. He gets to his knees and looks truly shocked that the match isn’t over. He struggles to his feet gripping at his ribs and his skull in the process before taking the hair of his opposition and using it to lift his head.

Simon: You don’t want to bleed huh? We’ll see if we can fix that.

He takes Riggs around the neck, pulls him up to his feet and then goes rushing across the ring. He leaps into the air and delivers a bulldog that drives Riggs down face first into the canvas. He then rolls over Riggs’ shoulders and ends up on his knees, still applying the side headlock.

Riggs is dragged to an upright base when Cagero takes off once more, going for a second bulldog. Riggs wedges his hands to Simon’s spine though and shoves him off. He sends Cagero rushing right into the turnbuckle which he surprisingly leaps into. He lands on the middle rope, springs off and twists, catching an unsuspecting Riggs around the neck then twisting him around into the tornado DDT.

Riggs’ face hits the canvas with force and his body flips over. The crowd stands with baited breathes, realizing that this MUST be it, that Cagero hit a move so dazzling and so painful that it finally spelt doom for Riggs.

Mayne: I have to show some type of respect. That was a stunning counter by Cagero.

Katie: Meh’, I’m not gonna show any respect. It would make me too queasy.

The energetic fans are still watching every movement from the referee right up until he signals that Riggs ISN’T bleeding. Their hearts sink and their butts hit their seats.

Simon is equally as distraught by this revelation, yet he gets up and goes for the kill move. He stumbles towards Riggs and takes him around the neck. The Painted Warrior is dragged to his feet in spite of having no control over his own body. Cagero wraps his arm around his long time nemesis’ skull and backs towards the chair, prepared to deliver yet another Break the Silence on the steel.

He lifts his fist into the air and shouts towards the backstage area.

Mayne: This one is for you, Too Mag!

He begins to drop back when Riggs suddenly elbows him to the skull, and then delivers a knee to the mid-section. Both blows double Simon over as Riggs hooks his arms and then delivers a double arm DDT onto the chair.

Mayne: BOOM shacalacka!

Steward: That couldn’t feel good. I tell you what else doesn’t feel good, sitting in this uncomfortable chair after being hit with a cane and forced to watch Robin almost lose her baby. Only in the IWC, only in the IWC can I expect nights like these.

Billy: At least you get to watch Simon bleed.

Katie: That’s true.

Cagero has bounced back to his knees, eyes glossed over, a welt forming on his forehead. A welt that threatens to burst open at any point and send blood gushing down his face. The official hovers over Simon and waits to see if the boil will burst and officially end this match. Somehow, even as it pockets with blood, the growth does not rip or tear open.

Simon’s chances at victory remain intact. That is before Riggs rolls backwards onto his feet, staggering and stumbling. Although he’s lost most control over his body and mind instinct guides Riggs’s actions. He reaches down and pulls up his tights to reveal the exposed steel brace around his knee.

Mayne: Wait, I don’t ever remember seeing Riggs wearing that.

Katie: Maybe he’s FINALLY updating his fashion.

With steel brace exposed Riggs rushes across the ring and delivers the shinning wizard on his kneeling opponent. The steel slams right into Simon’s forehead, hitting the bump and bursting it on impact. Simon drops to his back, blood now flowing freely down his face. The official turns and calls for the bell to the shock of everyone amassed in the Indoor Sports Arena.

Mayne: He’s busted, Cagero is FIIIIIINAAALLY BUSTED.

Katie: Took long enough.

Mayne: That means Riggs has defeated Cagero. He’s beaten him right here in the center of an IWC ring.

The official motions for the bell confirming to everyone that the match is indeed over. Riggs sits up on the canvas, wearing a chilling grin on his face, realizing that after nearly 12 long months he’s finally defeated his nemesis. He watches the blood gush down Simon’s face with sheer morbid delight.

Mayne: Riggs victorious ladies and gentlemen. He’s beaten Cagero in a First Blood match on Riot!

Katie: How many times are you going to emphasize the fact that he beat Simon?

Mayne: I’ll do it until I can think of something more creative to say.

Katie: It’s going to be a long night then.

Riggs kneels over Cagero, staring down into the gash that sends blood pumping down his features. He dabs his fingertips into the crimson then smears it across his own cheek, adding even more paint to his face.

Steward: Thanks to that steel supportive brace on Riggs’ knee he’s busted Cagero open and won this grueling main event.

For the first time in ages a chuckle is actually heard from Riggs, enjoying what he’s just done. To truly commemorate this magical moment for Riggs, his tag team partners appear from the backstage area. Jackson Adams, a staggering Max Craven and Psycho all head towards the ring putting their hands together.

Mayne: And Generation Now are in mass to properly rub this in Simon’s face.

Katie: I’m sure he’s use to having things rubbed in his face. Like Too Funky’s testicles.

Psycho and Craven are first into the ring, with the Sadistic One giving his partner a congratulatory slap on the shoulder. He aids him up to his feet as Craven grabs Riggs’ wrist and lifts it up high into the air.

Billy: Their goal was to bring honor and respectability back to the IWC. I think they’ve just accomplished that here tonight after this brutal war.

Katie: I’m still not convinced. Granted I find nothing about the IWC convincing.

Jackson finally enters the ring and bends his upper half to bow down to Riggs. This feel good moment for Generation Now comes to a crashing halt when a haunting voice booms over the PA system.

Too Magnificent: Hey. HEY YOU! You’ll look up here and listen if you know what’s good for you!

The Pittsburgh natives packed in the building rejoice another glimpse of Too Magnificent’s sweaty face, now it’s stretched over the Cartel-tron. Riggs lowers his arms, ceasing to celebration the moment he catches sight of his nemeis, the very man he screwed out of the Cartel Championship earlier tonight.

Katie: Awww, yuck? Do we really have to have a close up of his face, and for it to be on the big screen like this? As if I wasn’t ill enough.

Mayne: What the hell is he doing? Does he have to ruin everything?

Too Magnificent’s face is twisted by both rage and physical assertion. Clearly he’s holding something above his head, but it remains off camera.

Too Magnificent: Yeah fuck-face, it’s me. It’s the guy you cost everything earlier tonight. Remember?

A grin begins to crack the stoic features of Riggs.

Too Magnificent: Your probably asking yourself a lot of questions right now. Like, how did I beat Simon Cagero? What the hell is Too Magnificent babbling about? Why is he backstage instead of rushing to that ring to help his partner? Yeah, keep asking yourself these questions….BUT….you know, there is probably a far better question you should be asking, and it’s…..what’s Too Magnificent holding above his head? Let’s find out.

The camera finally pulls back just as Suzie begins to scream. She finds herself held high above Too Magnificent’s head by her knee and her throat, caught in a gorilla press. As the camera continues to pull back stairs are revealed leading up to the angered giant and his horrified prey. The two stand at the top of a stairwell, Too Magnificent facing the endless row of steps. Riggs’ face goes paler than usual.

Too Magnificent: That’s right Riggs, I ran into your little girlfriend backstage and had myself an epiphany. Since you cost me what I hold most precious to my heart, I’m gonna do some balanced fucking reciprocity. I’m gonna take away what you cherish.

The pale features become as red as the blood that Riggs has on his hands.

Too Magnificent: But feel free to come back here and try to stop me. I’ll give you a chance to save your toy as long as you get here before my arms wear out. Woops, think I’m losing my strength.

Suzie begins to slip out of Too Magnificent’s hands and take the plunge down the steps as she unleashes a blood curdling scream. That’s when the Cartel-tron cuts out, leaving Riggs looking mortified. For the first time in ages there is genuine emotion in Riggs’ features as he rolls under the ropes and goes bolting up the ramp to hopefully save Suzie.

Mayne: This is sick. Too Magnificent has absolutely lost his marbles. He really wouldn’t throw her down the steps would he?

Katie: And you care why?

Mayne: Cause tattoos turn me on, and Suzie has alotta them.

Katie: Of course. It’s your penis that makes you care.

Riggs has disappeared through the curtains to the backstage area, leaving his partners in shock. Psycho glances back and forth at Adams and Craven, wondering why nobody is following Riggs. It suddenly dawns on them that they should offer some back up to their partner, the trio inching towards the ropes. Before they can get out of the ring however, they find themselves blindsided from behind.

The fans erupt as AWOL drills Psycho with a running boot to the temple that knocks the crouched forward goliath through the ropes to the outside of the ring. He spills to the mats with a thud. Craven then rushes at AWOL, looking to pick up where the two left off earlier in the night. To his dismay he receives a headbunt to the skull that puts him on his back. Jackson then turns and gets drilled right under the jaw with an uppercut shot from the highly unstable Big Crazy Bastard.

Mayne: AWOL jumping Generation Now yet again. He promised at the top of the show that he was going to hunt them down and that’s just what he’s doing. Go ahead and mug one another, see if I care.

Steward: I know I don’t.

AWOL now subjects the Submission Champion to a series of knife edge chops across the chest. The strikes send Adams spiraling across the ring and eventually hitting the ropes. AWOL begins stomping away at Jackson’s ribs before Craven intervenes. He steps in behind AWOL and kicks him to the crease of the knee, knocking his legs out from under him. He falls to a kneeling base with Craven driving forearms into his upper back.

Billy: Craven trying to spare Adams from the type of beatdown that he took earlier tonight.

Steward: Awww, but I really wanted to see Jackson get his head caved in.

Max continues to dish out some punishment before he’s spun around by a blood soaked Cagero. Simon hauls off and drills Craven right under the jaw with a right hand that almost knocks him off of his feet. He staggers back, trying to stay upright as best as he can. Even though Simon has lost a lot of blood and is suffering the physical toll of his war against Riggs, he continues to put up a fight and come to his partner’s aid.

AWOL uses this time to reach his feet and whip around with a furious lariat at the back of Craven’s head. At the same time Jackson reaches out and grabs Craven by the wrist, yanking down on it so that he bends forward, ducking the bicep of the Big Crazy Bastard. As a result AWOL’s clothesline connects with Simon’s throat, almost twisting him inside out.

Mayne: HAAAAA! AWOL….he…he…he just clotheslined Cagero!

Steward: Wow, hahahahaha, that has to be funniest thing I’ve seen all night, and I actually sat through half a Hurse match.

The blood smeared Cagero hits the canvas, the back of his neck bouncing forcefully from the ring. All those packed in the Indoor Sports Arena react with dropped jaws and bulging eyes. They are in disbelief that AWOL almost cleaved his partner’s head from his shoulders. AWOL glares down at he bloodied Cagero and sneers before going after Generation Now. Adams has rolled Craven to the outside of the ring and the two are now fleeing up the ramp to the backstage area. AWOL rolls out of the ring and doesn’t even look back to check on his partner as he pursues his rivals.

Mayne: AWOL chasing Generation Now and laying out Simon Cagero in the process. What a chaotic conclusion to a chaotic night.

Steward: A night that gets five stars in my book for the sole reason that I competed in a match.

Billy: What’s happening backstage with Riggs and Too Magnificent. Is AWOL gonna get his hands on Generation Now. Are their going to be repercussions for his clothesline on Cagero? Are you sufficiently hyped for the next show yet?

The cameras fade to black on AWOL marching up the ramp after Generation Now and Simon’s blood soaked body lying in his wake.

FADE TO BLACK