OPENING VIDEO PACKAGE

OPENING VIDEO PACKAGE

Johnny: Oh COME ON, your stacking the God damn deck!

It’s obvious that Johnny Kingdom is upset….no, no, upset would be putting it too mildly. That would be like saying that Jennifer Love Hewitt’s cup size is adequate, or that Warwick Davis is just short, a gross understatement. He takes out his anger on the crummy cards he’s been dealt, a lemon hand that he can’t turn into lemonade, no matter how much skillful bluffing he can pull off.

Kingdom: This is BULLSHIT! Bull-shitty-shit-SHIT. I’m so stealing the towels out of my hotel room, AND the little bottles of shampoo. Hell, after this deplourable dealing I might even take the shower curtains….how would you like that, huh, HUH!?!

The meek, easily intimidated dealer standing on the opposite side of the poker table has no response, at least not one that would placate the World Champion. All he can do is give Kingdom a blank stare and periodically shield his face from the chips flying in his direction, chips that Johnny has been hemorrhaging.

Kingdom: I hope your happy with yourself….

A red chip is held between Johnny’s fingers, being squeezed and shaken as Kingdom’s voice fills the hotel/casino.

Johnny: This chip, this chip right here….well it just cost my kids a college education….and this one….

Another chip he was forced to turn over is now snatched back up into Kingdom’s grubby palms.

Kingdom: This was going to pay for my daughter’s braces. Now she’ll have to go through life looking like some backwoods Kentuckian. She’ll be forever type cast in films about insane murderous mountain folk, she’ll be stealing roles from Robin Brooks, and it’s all your fault!

The chip is thrown at the dealer who shows remarkable reflexes by catching it before it could strike his nostril.

Dealer: Well, maybe your luck will change with the next hand sir.

Kingdom: You had better hope it does, pal. Because if there’s one thing Johnny Kingdom doesn’t do, it’s lose. Isn’t that right my little golden compatriot?

A seat beside him is occupied by his coveted World Heavyweight Title belt. All the other seats are vacant however, nobody wanting to sit around the bad luck charm that is Kingdom. The cards are dealt and Johnny overlooks them in a morose fashion.

Johnny: Alright….you can take this card right here and shove it….

Dealer: Sir, please calm down.

Kingdom: Please NOTHING! Let me cut the deck….

Dealer: That’s against casino policy sir.

He reaches out and tries to force the deck of cards out of the dealer’s hand.

Johnny: If you aren’t cheating there shouldn’t be a problem. Now let me CUT!

Dealer: Noooo….I really must protest.

Excuse me. I couldn’t help overhearing.

A very well dressed gentleman, adorned in a tux in stark contrast to the Hawaiian shirt and blue jeans that Johnny is sporting, approaches from behind. He takes a seat in one of the many empty chairs, shuffling some chips around in one palm and holding a glass of expensive champagne in the other.

Christian Savior: Seems you’ve hit a dry spell.

Johnny: Yeah….what’s it to you?

Savior: Ooooooh, I just hate to see a man down on his luck is all.

Kingdom: Yeah, your probably more use to seeing them down on their knees.

Christian pretends he didn’t just hear what the angry gambler mumbled. Johnny isn’t even aware that he let it slip out as he continues re-arranging his cards, hoping to find at the very least a pear or a straight.

Johnny: What are you still doing here?

The Team Leader realizes that Savior wasn’t offended enough to be chased off.

Kingdom: Your bad luck, get lost.

Christian: It be a shame to leave before I had a chance to offer my assistance.

Although the champ would never openly ask for help, he does find himself intrigued, especially given his current financial ruin.

Johnny: Oh really? Do you count cards or have X-Ray vision or something? Otherwise your of no use to me.

Savior: No, but I do have money, and lots of it.

Johnny starts to feel uncomfortable.

Kingdom: Oookay, but just so you know, I don’t do full frontal.

The insinuation causes Savior to almost choke on his champagne, spitting some of it back into the glass.

Christian: That’s not what I had in mind at all….or more accurately, YOUR not who I had in mind.

Johnny continues to find himself fascinated.

Savior: I’ll give you one million dollars for a night with your friend there.

It takes Kingdom a moment to realize who Christian is alluding to before finally turning to acknowledge the World Heavyweight Title belt.

Kingdom: Are you serious?

Christian: A million dollars for one night. That much money should get your kids all the braces they need.

Johnny weighs the pros and the cons, stroking the slight stubble of hair on his chin in the process. Finally a smile starts to emerge across his face followed by a nod of the head.

Risk

Axl Evermore is shown at the craps table, throwing two red dice to much commotion from those gathered around him. As the dice skip across the table the camera zooms in upon them. Violent images can be seen within the cubes, scenes of Psycho delivering repeated MMA elbows to a bloodied Evermore’s skull. The other die features scenes of Evermore pulling down the ropes and causing Psycho to coast over them to the outside mats, by virture winning the Cartel Championship.

Vs. Reward

Now it’s Robin Brooks who gleefully gambles her hard earned cash. She pulls the lever on a slot machine, waiting anxiously to see if there will be any kind of enormous pay off. Three symbols appear across the front of the machine, each one of them sporting different scenes. One displays Brooks on the verge of hitting a stunner on Buehler, another shows Hurse strangling James Exeter after the botched wedding, and the third features Katie Steward and Paris Dannon slamming a car trunk shut with Katelyn Buehler trapped inside.

Gain

AWOL waits anxiously to see where the ball bouncing around the roulette table lands, an alimony check riding on his success. The ball rolls from one number to the next. Each number it passes over displays a different scene corresponding to the IWC. There are images of Too Magnificent swinging a trash-can into Psycho’s head, and of Sean Johnson delivering a deadly pedigree on an already wounded Axl.

Vs. Loss

A handful of cards are held in the palms of Riggs, his dreary eyes examining each one of them, trying to decide how many chips to bet. All the cards in his hand serve as visual reminders of his pending opponents. One card replays images of Christian Savior nailing him with the spear, while another features Simon Cagero sitting up in a casket with a cocksure smile on his face. The next card shows Porno Lad limping away from a tag team match with the use of a walker.

Success

Chips collapse across a table, each one displaying more memorable scenes. Scenes involving Savior offering Pat Evans his contract for the World Title, and then him finally signing it over the unconscious body of the World Heavyweight Champion. There is also an image of Kingdom smacking Pat over the head with a steel chair at the conclusion of the Ultimate Submission match from several weeks ago.

Vs. Failure

A keno card is clutched in the palms of Simon Cagero, his eyes transferring from the numbers on his sheet to the numbers being generated on a big screen before him. The highlighted numbers on his card are filled in with scenes of Robin hitting her standing moonsault, Jackson Adams delivering the Spectacular Ending, Riggs nailing an opponent with the Hopskotch, and many more grotesque displays of violence.

Will you risk it all?

Coins spill out of a slot machine, and upon each sparkling surface a face of a random IWC star is superimposed. Although only on screen for a moment, one can see the seriousness, the determination in their eyes.

Will you play it safe?

Dollar bills are being stacked in front of a relieved AWOL, anxiously awaiting his payout. The surface of the counter where the money is being deposited serves as one large screen, portraying scenes of Porno Lad running off with the X-Class Championship, and Miho Miyzaki being shoved violently to the canvas by an enraged Adams.

What will you do when the time comes for Upping the Ante?

Crumpled up hundred dollar bills are spilt all around the Jacuzzi. Mounds of cash just lying around, completely at Savior’s disposal. But his mind isn’t on his money. The Rising Phoenix’s upper half is exposed above the bubbling water, still enjoying his glass of champagne, just as much as he enjoys the sight of the World Heavyweight Title belt dangling over the edge of the Jacuzzi.

Savior: I knew everyone had their price.

He stops to think for a moment.

Christian: Jesus, that was so Dibiase-esque. I’m talking about the Dibiase who has a personality of course. Anywho, are night is just getting started.

He winks before tapping the glass against the golden plate of the championship belt.

UPPING THE ANTE

The crowd is subjected to a fireworks extravaganza, one so powerful it would rock their seats beneath them if they weren’t already standing. All those fans packed like sardines into the Hard Rock Café’ are jumping around like they’ve been tazed. Their faces are flushed with such excitement you would think they were hit with a dosage of adrenaline straight to the heart.

Mark Comeau: On a night where six titles will be defended, IWC makes its debut in Vegas with Upping the Ante!

The impressive pyrotechnics display continues, sparks now shooting from the entry way designed to resemble a slot machine. Three mini-trons consume the spaces normally reserved for the reels while a the curtains fill the area where coins would frequently be dispensed.

Susie Moore: Yaaaayyy….I love Vegas already. Everything here is so shinny, even the people.

Comeau: Well I hope you can keep your ADHD in check long enough to enjoy all the action about to take place.

Moore: That’s asking a lot. I never know when somebody will randomly ask me to blow on something for luck. Although I don’t know why it has to be in the backseat of a camero.

JACKSON ADAMS © VS. MIHO MIYAZAKI

Suddenly, the lights dim down, and are replaced with a dark blue light the words "sweet little Miho.....Deadly little Miho" flash on the screen

Miho walks down wearing one of her amazing gothic dresses she slowly makes her way to the ring looking at her feet the whole time with her arms in a prayer position in front of her. Upon climbing the steps and entering the ring in a very ladylike manner, Miho spins around to eye the screaming Vegas crowd.

Mark: If this young lady, Miho Miyazaki, thought that by coming to the IWC it would cost her a long time friendship she probably never would have stepped foot in this ring. But alas that’s exactly what happened, and it’s the story behind the first of six championship matches.

Susie: I feel bad for Miho, I really do. It can’t be easy going through life with deformed eyes.

Comeau: Ummm, Susie, she’s Asian….

Moore: MARK, there’s no reason to start calling her names.

Miyazaki paces in anticipation of her former friend’s arrival. Jackson Adams’ music is cued up and cued up fast, the X-Class Champion eager to get his hands on the woman he felt betrayed him. The incredibly paranoid JA steps through the curtains, sans his title belt considering its still in Porno Lad’s possession, and with a head of steam storms towards the ring. He mumbles irrationally to himself, perhaps not even knowing what he’s saying as he reaches the steps and progresses up them. All Jackson does know is that he’s angry, and Miho has become his human punching bag.

Mark: Although Porno Lad may still have Jackson’s title belt, Adams will be forced to defend the X-Class Title belt against a woman HE brought into the company. When it became apparent that she had developed feelings for the very man Jackson tried to get her to seduce, Adams just lost it.

Susie: It’s like impossible to not have a crush on Porno Lad, have you tried it Mark?

Comeau: No, no I haven’t.

Moore: Good, then you’re like me and you’ve just learned to accept your feelings for Porno Lad.

Comeau: That’s not what…..

Susie: No need to explain, Mark. You, me and Miho share a connection, and Jacky Adams just can’t seem to understand that.

As soon as the bell sounds in the background, Jackson storms out of his corner, going straight after Miho. Before his grubby little palms can wrap around her throat, Miyazaki tucks into a forward roll, avoiding his clutches. She ends up behind Adams who is so livid he looks on the verge of hulking out.

Mark: Adams trying to get the jump on Miho but she avoided it. I cannot believe how fast this relationship between Adams and Miyazaki has soured.

Susie: That’s what happens when you leave Miho sitting on the window seal too long and don’t keep her properly refrigerated.

Comeau: Ummm…..I’m not even going to bother.

Miho tries to calm Jackson down, obviously not wanting to fight the man she still considers her friend. Jackson has other plans though, and they don’t include listening to Miyazaki talk, all he’s interested is hearing her scream. He charges at her once again, this time throwing a blatant closed fist that Miho ducks under.

She steps around behind his back and with a heavy heart spins Adams around by his shoulder into a straight slap to the face. Jackson is staggered by the blow, holding his palm to his lip and making sure he has been busted open.

Adams: So that’s how you want to play this, huh?

Miyazaki nods, finally giving up on talking sense to the perturbed Adams. He charges straight at Miyazaki only to be nailed with a double palm thrust to the ribs, doubling him over. Before Jackson can even acknowledge the pain coursing through is abdomen, Miho grabs him by the back of the head, lunges into the air and drags him down face first into her raised knee.

The blow sends Adams staggering backwards, spilling through the ropes and coming down to his feet on the outside mats.

Comeau: Miho too quick for the X-Class Champion, catching him completely off guard. She’s no longer holding anything back against Adams here in our opening contest.

Susie: And I dare-say there’s NO better way to open the show than with Miho. She’s Asian you know.

Mark: I never would have guessed it.

A shaken Adams rubs at his swelling jaw, completely unaware that Miho has grabbed the top rope and is flying over it. She transitions in mid-air, landing right on top of Jackson’s shoulders and dropping back into the hurricarana. Or so that’s what she had planned, Jackson quick to thwart it.

He wedges his feet to the mats and remains upright just long enough to lift Miho back up to his shoulders, twist around and powerbomb her spine first directly into the apron. Miyazaki lets loose with a deep roar of pain, louder than the screams from the Vegas fans in attendance.

Mark: Now that move may have just broke Miho’s back!

Moore: If she has a daughter, I hope she didn’t step on a crack.

Jackson takes Miho by the back of the head, charging her at the announce table then slamming her face first against it. Miyazaki’s cranium thuds against the surface of the table with a resounding thud, sending her into a spiral. Her back is wedged against the table just long enough for JA to chop her across the bosom.

Jackson: I bet you wish you didn’t have feelings now, huh, huh!?!

The self righteous Adams pie faces Miho several times, realizing that the powerbomb he just delivered has left her completely at his mercy. He takes her by the bangs, dragging her towards the ring and rolling her in under the ropes. She ends up turning so that her chest and face are placed over the apron, while the rest of her body is in the ring.

Jackson uses this positioning to his advantage, charging at the side of Miho’s head and delivering a vicious European Uppercut to her jaw. Miyazaki groans as she rolls fully into the ring, finding her body forming a parallel line with the cables at her side.

Jackson uses these ropes to climb to the apron then throw his body over them. The crowd cringes, expecting to see the veteran collide with the rookie. Instead Adams overshoots Miho, landing on his feet at her side then kicking back so that his boot meets her temple.

The fans stop cringing long enough to boo as Adams swaggers across the ring, swiping his palms together. He is quite pleased with his antics, spending as much time as he pleases to showboat. The pompous Adams grabs the ankle and wrist of his opponent, dragging Miho to the center of the ring then jumping over and taking off into the ropes.

He bounces from the cables and steps back up to Miho’s side with a Ric Flair esque strut then delivers a Muta style elbow to the sternum. He now sits up, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Jackson: Wooo!

Mark: Alright, I think Jackson has just successfully gotten himself sued.

Moore: The same thing has happened to me. Apparently when restaurants tell you to pick your own lobster, you can’t actually jump in the tank and catch them yourself.

Comeau: I’m sure your not the only one who made that mistake.

The anger in Adams dissipates the more he dominates the inexperienced challenger for his title. His confidence is swelling like a black eye, which is exactly what he’s about to give Miho. Miyazaki’s defenses are still down after that powerbomb into the apron.

She can’t stop Adams from dragging her to a kneeling base and popping her across the forehead with a straight right hand. The shot sends the challenger to the canvas with Adams turning to take a bow to the crowd.

His adoring audience in actuality bombarding him with boos, but Jackson of course only hears what he wants to. And right now, what he wants to hear are Miho’s cries for mercy. He starts back in her direction, grabbing Miyazaki by the hair, forcing her to her feet then hoisting her into the air.

Miyazaki cannot prevent being dropped kidneys first across Jackson’s raised knee, the Canadian Back-Breaker connectintg.

Comeau: And Adams continuing to dominate, slowing this X-Class Title bout down to a crawl. Miayzaki has had zero offense sense that brief flurry to commence the bout….

In mid-sentence Mark is forced to correct himself, because Adams stands up, still holding Miho at his side and going for a second Back-Breaker only for Miyazaki to counter in a surprising way. She reaches up with her legs, wraps them around Jackson’s neck and slips out of his arms, swinging around into a big head scissors.

Mark: I spoke too soon apparently.

Susie: That’s why I just wait for the teleprompter to tell me when to speak.

Comeau: Susie, we don’t even have a teleprompter.

JA flips forward, smashing the canvas with his back. He rolls forward to his feet though, standing up in a hurry and trying to catch a still wounded Miho.

Miyazaki begins to stand up, holding her lower back when Jackson steps and over her, delivering a clubbing blow over her spine. He then pulls her forward into a knee strike to the ribs, doing even more to take the fight out of her.

He now grabs her by the wrist, pushing her away only to pull her back in with a short arm clothesline. Miho ducks it, hooks the crease of Adams’ elbow and lunges into the air, swinging all the way around his body, wrapping her legs around his neck and connecting with a second head scissors take-down.

Jackson once again flips across the canvas, crashing into the ring then scrambling across it in a hurry. He rolls under the ropes, trying to create some distance between himself and Miho so that he can form a new strategy.

Miyazaki isn’t about to let that happen. She steps to the ropes, takes the top one and launches herself over.

Comeau: Oh no Miho, don’t make the same mistake twice.

Once again Miyazaki falls onto Jackson’s shoulders and seemingly into his trap. She falls back to deliver the hurricarana but Adams has the strength remaining to prevent being taken over. A smile forms on his face, realizing that Miho is once again at his mercy. He hoists her up into the air and onto his shoulders, only for her to lunge into the air.

The crowd is dazzled as Miyazaki lands feet first on Jackson’s shoulders and then jumps off of them onto the apron behind his back.

Once again Jackson is stunned as he spins around just in time for Miho to leap from the apron, land on his shoulders and connect with the hurricarana. The momentum of the move launches Adams shoulder first into the nearby exposed turnbuckle post.

Mark: What amazing agility by Miho Miyazaki. She’s not only showing that she can hang with the X-Class Champion, but she’s actually showing him up.

Susie: Good, she has to be agile if she wants to perform on the level of Porno Lad and I.

That last maneuver has the crowd so excited you would think they digested entire bags of sugar. Adams doesn’t share their excitement, he’s unable to considering that he’s laying clavicle first against the turnbuckle post, which is the only thing keeping his body upright.

He uses this very post to stand all the way up, backing away from it just in time for Miho to deliver a dropkick to his upper back. The blow launches Jackson ribs first into the barricade like he were a bullet launched from a pistol. His abdomen cracks against steel with enough force to almost send him flipping over into the crowd.

Mark: Miho coming at Adams from every angle, keeping him completely off guard.

Miyazaki rolls back into the ring and then out of it before storming towards the X-Class Champion, trying to keep the pressure on him. Unfortunately she walks right into a thumb to the eye, momentarily blinding her. Jackson continues to employ every dirty trick he has at his disposal to keep Miyazaki unbalanced.

His cheap tactics prove effective, allowing him to step up behind Miho, take her around the neck and bridge her over backwards into position for the reverse DDT.

That’s when Miho lunges from her feet, flipping up and over Adams’ shoulder almost into a reverse suplex then lands directly behind him.

A flabbergasted Adams spins around when Miho lunges into the air, wedges her feet to his ribs and drops back into a monkey flip. Jackson flips completely over and the back of his legs crash into the steel plates of the barrier.

Mark: Another amazing move by Miho. For someone who is just starting out in this business she’s operating like a veteran around that ring.

Moore: I did an operation once.

Comeau: Do tell.

Susie: Yeah, I almost had the appendix out, everything was going fine, but then my tweezers touched the side and the patient’s nose began to glow.

Mark: If only I could take back the last twenty seconds of my life.

Jackson rubs at the back of his knees, roaring in anguish while Miho rolls back into the squared circle to once again break the official’s ten count. This time returning referee Chester Princeton does not allow her to vacate the squared circle, holding her at bay.

All the while Jackson is desperately trying to get up, but his legs buckle beneath him, his knees possibly injured after that vicious collision with the barrier. The referee starts a ten count, fully prepared to disqualify Adams even though he knows it won’t sit well with the audience.

The crowd already lets him know what they think of this decision, and obviously they’re vehemently opposed to it.

Mark: Oh no, come on, I’d hate to see a pay-per-view begin like this, and for Jackson to retain his X-Class Title via count-out.

An anxious Adams grabs the apron, using it to will himself to his feet. He then lets out a shrill roar, grabs at his knee and falls to the mats once again. As the referee’s count reaches five, the pain displayed on Jackson’s face transforms into a smirk. He falls to his back at this point, continuing to poorly play up the extent of his knee injury.

Comeau: Wait a minute, I think that’s exactly what Adams is trying to do. He’s trying to get counted out so that he retains his X-Class Title. What a sneaky little son of a…..

Moore: ….Gun! There, I kept it clean for you so that you don’t offend my virgin ears.

Mark: I don’t think there’s one inch of you that can be considered virginal.

Susie: My pinkie finger. Oh wait, I shoved that in…..

Mark: Good God please don’t finish that sentence.

Jackson continues to ham it up at ringside, acting as if he’s far too debilitated to break the official’s ten count. He’s resigned himself to being counted out and retaining his title via the most underhanded of means. That’s before Miho puts an end to this ridiculous plot, shoving the official aside with almost freakish strength, grabbing the top rope and flipping over it.

She comes crashing down back first directly into Jackson’s rib-cage with almost a version of the senton bomb. The fans salivate over what they’ve just witnessed, the amazing aerial, and suicidal maneuver just pulled off by Miho that broke the official’s count and possibly broke Jackson’s ribs.

Adams curls into the fetal position, twisting to his side and writhing from the anguish.

Mark: Miho not about to let this match end by count-out, she wants that X-Class Title.

Moore: Who wouldn’t? You could put it on your head and pretend it’s a sparkly tiara.

The spectacular Adams looks anything but spectacular as he’s assisted to his feet only to be rolled under the ropes into the ring. He ends up sprawled across his back with Miyazaki hoping to the apron then springing to the top rope. She comes flying off into a big splash that connects across Adams’ ribs then hooks his leg for the pinfall.

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The hand is just about to connect with the canvas before Adams kicks out, saving his X-Class Championship.

Mark: Miho so close, so veeeerrry close to taking that X-Class Title from her former best friend.

Miyazaki is more ferocious than ever, throwing her alliance with Adams completely out the window as she drags him to his knees and begins to pummel him with forearms to the jaw. Miyazaki is absolutely unloading on the X-Class Champion as he staggers to his feet and falls spine first into the ropes.

Miho boots him to the ribs, takes him by the wrist and whips him off across the ring. Jackson turns and tries to prevent it however, countering by reversing the whip. At the last second Miho dives forward though, slipping around Jackson’s thigh and pulling him down into a school boy.

Adams rolls right through and onto his feet, standing up beside the kneeling Miyazaki then taking off backwards into the ropes.

He bounces off and lunges forward for a kick to her face only to have the challenger side step it at the last second. Miho bounces off of the ropes behind him, charges in and grabs the back of his head, going for a bulldog.

This time it’s Jackson who avoids Miho’s running maneuver, ducking down and pulling his head out of her palm, then reaching out and hooking her arms from behind. Jackson twists Miyazaki around into an unprettier position, above to obliterate her attractive Asian features.

Miho hops from the unprettier position right on top of Jackson’s shoulders, setting up for another modified head scissors. To the disbelief of the everyone, Miyazaki in particular, Adams provides a last second counter. He wedges his hands to Miho’s knees and shoves upwards, sending her flipping forward from his shoulders and surprisingly landing directly on her feet.

Adams is so astonished by her agility that he finds himself momentarily paralyzed. He snaps out of his self induced paralysis and rushes at Miho only for her to drop into a backwards roll, extending her legs and wrapping them about Jackson’s mid-section.

He reaches down, grabs her around the waist as well and heaves her up into the wheelbarrow. He then tosses her to the side though, sending Miho swinging around his body and ending up behind him, her legs still wrapped about his torso.

From this position she’s able to pull him down into a modified sunset flip style pinning predicament. The roll up has Adams on his back and the crowd screaming, a new champion on the verge of being crowned.

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Adams rolls back, freeing himself from this pinning predicament, the X-Class Title continuing to allude Miho’s grasp.

Comeau: Jackson just barely holding onto his X-Class gold, figuratively of course, sense the actual belt is still in Porno Lad’s possession.

Moore: Yep, it is. I took a bubble bath with it and the N.H.B belt the other day. They hogged all the soap.

After rolling free from the roll up, Jackson lunges forward, grabs Miho’s ankle and lifts up on it. Miyazaki rolls backwards onto her feet, Jackson releasing her ankle and taking her around the neck, Spectacular Ending pending.

Mark: Adams setting up for that flipping C4!

Jackson hoists Miho up into the air, about to perform the backwards flip when Miyazaki twists her body, wraps her legs around Adams’ waist and pulls him down into a forward roll-up. Once again the crowd is at a fevered pitch in anticipation of the count being made.

Mark: Major counter made by Miho, she may have the X-Class Title won.

The ref’s hand slaps the canvas promptly.

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Adams launches a shoulder from the canvas and launches Miho off of his sternum. Miyazaki rolls backwards, this time without the aid of Adams and ends up on her feet. She now rushes at her seated opponent’s spine only for Adams to drop to his back and lift his legs into the air for the monkey flip.

Miho smartly avoids them via leaping over Adams into a cartwheel that sends her right back to her feet and charging directly into the cables. She bounces off and comes back in at a standing Jackson who side steps her and uses the challenger’s own momentum to twist her around into the blue thunder bomb.

All the energy is knocked clean out of Miho’s body as Adams leans forward into the creases of her knees for the pin.

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Miyazaki kicks out and the crowd rejoices.

Mark: Jackson went after that back again with the blue thunder bomb but Miho showing a lot of spirit by kicking out.

Susie: Careful though, if she shows too much spirit then the Ghost Busters will totally zap her ghostly ass.

Comeau: LAME.

Jackson is having a full on conniption fit, fed up with Miyazaki’s persistence. He pulls her to her knees, hooks both arms and sets up for his version of the Angel’s Wings. Upon tossing her up into the air however, Miyazaki performs another dazzling counter. This time she flips forward and lands on Jackson’s shoulders before pulling him over into a hurricarana.

With heart beats racing, fans screaming, and Miho holding on for everything she’s worth, the referee makes the deciding count.

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Jackson’s shoulder springs from the canvas yet again.

Mark: AGAIN Miho within a fraction of a second of becoming X-Class Champion. Adams came into this bout expecting to dominate, but Miho is taking him for everything that he’s worth.

Susie: I don’t imagine he’s worth much either. I think hobos earn fatter paychecks than Adams.

Miyazaki continues to feed off the emotion of the audience, the Las Vegas crowd amply supplying her with the adrenaline boost she needs to continue. She takes a risky gamble though, by bolting into the ropes, bouncing off and getting a running start for her next maneuver.

It’s at this precise moment that Adams lunges from his knees, the top of his head connecting right to Miho’s ribcage. She doubles over, grabbing at her stomach while the official shouts at Jackson, on the verge of disqualifying him for his actions.

Adams could care less about the reprimand, because he’s far too busy taking advantage of his wounded opposition. With Miho doubled over, grabbing at her gut, Adams stands, shoots an arm across her sternum and then flips over backwards into the Spectacular Ending.

Mark: Now the Spectacular Ending connects after Adams hit that intentional low blow.

Moore: That cheater, that big meany pants CHEATER! Susie mad! Susie SMASH!

The ref’s hand slaps the canvas as Jackson hooks both legs.

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The second the hand slaps the canvas a third time, Adams is to his feet, celebrating like he just caught the game winning pass.

Mark: And Adams retains despite a very valiant effort by Miyazaki.

ANSWER THE CHALLENGE

Miho is sprawled lifelessly across the canvas, looking at the house lights above with a distant glint in her eyes. The lights are on, but nobody is home. Jackson realizes this as he pantomimes holding a belt above his head, substituting the gesture for the real thing.

His intense gaze focuses on his prone opponent, slowly waltzing in her direction. He continues to motion across his waist, signifying that his title remains there. Miho is unable to put up much resistance at this point as she’s goozled by the throat and slowly dragged to her knees.

Jackson: This is the price you pay for insolence, you little Asian whore!

A slap connects to Miho’s cheek, knocking her to her back while Adams steps over her defenseless body. He obviously isn’t through just yet, he has far more destructive plans for the exotic beauty.

Susie: Why is he doing this? He won didn’t he? Or was I just hallucinating again from a lack of nourishment?

Mark: You know Jackson, it’s not good enough that he won, he’s GOT to rub it in.

Moore: Well somebody has got to put a stop to this, and I see now, that that someone is gonna have to be me.

Comeau: Don’t be ridiculous. Susie…..SUSIE!

Susie: Porno Lad lovers of the world UNITE!

Nothing Mark says stops Susie Moore from removing her head-set and charging towards the ring. Jackson is far too predisposed with unleashing his pint up frustrations on Miho to notice Susie sliding into the ring behind him. Without thinking, big shock considering this is Susie, Moore leaps onto Adams’ back.

Mark: Susie stop….oh good lord.

Moore swings like a wild baboon, punching Adams to the side of the head over and over again as he spins in circles trying to knock her off.

Mark: Susie, PLEASE, I never thought she was THIS mentally retarded.

The crowd is chanting Susie’s name as she continues to be wisped around in circle after circle. No matter how dizzy she’s getting, she still remains focused on scraping and clawing at Jackson’s face, in particular the eyes.

The eyes would normally be characterized as a window to the soul, but judging by Jackson’s next act, he proves to be truly soulless. He yanks Susie’s hands away from his pupils and with no regard for the commentator’s well being, flips her over his back by her wrist and slams her against the canvas.

Comeau: NO! Now you’ve crossed a line Adams. I may want to hurt Susie, like every second of every day, but even I can’t stand by and let this happen.

Just like at Paranoia VI, Mark is standing up in preparation to come to Susie’s aid. She is in desperate need of a white knight, sitting on the canvas, gripping at her spine and entirely exposed to an out of control Adams. Jackson seems to have lost all semblance of what could be considered a conscious, if he EVER had one in the first place that is.

In a fit that could only be described as anarchist, Jackson grabs Susie’s bangs, substituting her for the still recovering Miho. Before Mark has a chance to finish wrapping his leather belt about his fist at ringside, salvation for both commentators comes in the form of the N.H.B Champion.

To a reaction that borders on pandemonium Porno Lad slides into the ring, hastily coming to the aid of his lover. He’s drenched in gold, including the X-Class Title, a cruel reminder to Adams of what’s been stolen from him.

Mark: Thankfully Porno Lad out here to stop this depraved act. And by depraved act, I mean the sight of me without a shirt on.

Mark moves in rewind as he buttons up his shirt and puts his belt back around his waist. Meanwhile, in the ring Porno Lad and Adams charge at one another like two knights about to joust. At the last second however, Adams pulls out of this game of chicken, diving clear from Porno Lad’s path and through the ropes.

Comeau: I guess Jackson is showing his true colors AGAIN. He’s alright beating on a couple of women, not selling Miho short, but when Porno Lad hits the ring he bails. If he wants that X-Class Title belt back, someday he is going to have to truly face off against the man who stole it.

The bragging Adams finally shuts his mouth, unable to verbally interpret his fury at the sight of the Original Prankster. He’s reduced to mere head shakes and thumping the apron with both palms. His rage induced tantrum continues, now taking it out on the barricade which he gives a swift kick.

Porno Lad watches his actions from the corner of his eye, keeping one pupil on Susie, who he is tending to, and the other carefully tracking his rival. With his arms wrapped around Susie’s neck, and his ears listening to her confirmations that she’s alright, Porno Lad helps her to her feet and then motions for a microphone.

Mark: This could be interesting, Porno Lad asking for a mic and I imagine he’s got a lot he wants to say to Adams after these masochistic actions.

Jackson is already on his way up the ramp before Porno Lad’s voice sends a chill up his spine, a chill that seems to paralyze his whole body.

Porno Lad: You want your X-Class Title back that badly…..

The insinuation is enough to make Adams turn back towards the ring, forcing himself to bear Porno Lad’s image.

Porno Lad: Just so happens I brought it to the ring….

Susie, who recovered rather quickly, is now mending Miho’s wounds, while her boyfriend symbolically raises the X-Class Title belt. Its shimmering surface is like a bug light, and Jackson finds himself playing the part of the mosquito drawn to it.

Porno Lad: And woops!

The gold slips out of his palm, falling to the canvas at his feet.

Porno Lad: There it is….

He gestures to the strap with an open palm. The closer that Jackson gets to the ring, and to his title, the more and more he salivates.

Porno Lad: Seems to me that all you have to do is slip through those ropes, which shouldn’t be too hard considering how much body grease you soak yourself in, then step forward, bend over, just think your in a prison shower, and take your title. So what’s stopping you?

Jackson asks himself the same question upon reaching the ringside area, yet something keeps his feet from budging from the mats.

Porno Lad: Come oooonnnnn, you’re not holding back just because the thought of facing me makes you wet yourself, are you? You’re a tough guy, you just demonstrated that by going all OJ Simpson on my sex kitten….

He pauses for the groans to dissipate in the audience.

Porno Lad: So how about you give us a REAL demonstration of your manliness. Let’s go MACHO MAN, put down your Slim-Jim and face me for this X-Class Title. Right here, right now, you and me, one on one, title on the line.

The prospect positively has the crowd climaxing.

Porno Lad: You want it back so badly, then there’s no better time or place than here and now. You’re not going to get a better opportunity than this.

Jackson is already half way inside of the ring, his precious title a mere few feet from his grasp.

Porno Lad: But I gotta warn you…

Adams pauses, now despising the word “but.”

Porno Lad: I’m gonna put up a much greater challenge than an untrained commentator, no matter how big her funbags may be.

Susie stops convalescing alongside Miho long enough to jiggle her bosom, trying to determine their weight. Jackson weighs something vastly different, the pros and cons of facing Porno Lad. Although it would reunite him with the title, he questions whether or not he’s ready to risk life and limb against a vengeful adversary, especially one who has already defeated him in the past.

On this night he decides that discretion is the better part of valor and rolls from the ring. However, even while retreating, he stands on the apron and offers words instead of fist. Although his words do pack quite the punch.

Jackson: Oh I’ll get it back. But I’ll take it back when I say so.

Adams drops to the mats, loving the power he’s now imbued himself with over his opponent. Porno Lad may have his title, but now Jackson is dictating the terms of their eventual clash for it. The more he makes Porno Lad wait for such an encounter, the greater he feels.

Mark: Jackson denying Porno Lad’s request, showing true cowardice in the face of his rival. For all the bitching and moaning he does about that X-Class title, when faced with an opportunity to get it back he runs for the hills.

Porno Lad debates whether he should bring the fight to Adams, or if that’s exactly what Jackson is counting on. Therefore he stays rooted to the canvas, finally turning his attention from the departing Jackson to assist Susie in helping Miho to her feet. The valiant Miyazaki gets quite the ovation as she leans on the shoulders of both her rescuers.

The camera switches to Mark Comeau now seated alone behind the announce table. His seclusion allows Mark to take a sigh of relief, free from the burden of a mentally ill-equipped partner.

Mark: An unusual start to tonight’s pay-per-view event. Upping the Ante commenced with a tremendous bout for the X-Class Championship, before degenerating into a tense situation that removed my broadcast colleague from the announce table and almost gave us an impromptu title bout. The excitement here in the Hard Rock Café already at a fevered pitch and we still have a loaded card, FIVE championship bouts still ahead of us.

Porno Lad is scorning Susie for being foolish enough to interject herself in the match while Moore explains that she HAD to help Miho, given their mutual attraction to him. Miyazaki remains silent, quite enjoying being in the middle of the pear, a position she hopes to be in later tonight.

BE SEEING YOU

The cameras shoot straight to the gorilla position, capturing the swagger in Jackson’s step, and the smile on his face as he proceeds down the entrance tunnel. Although he was made to look like a sniveling coward in front of a nation wide audience, he still has that cocksure demeanor passed down to him by the likes of Johnny Kingdom and Hurse.

The latter of the two men coming face to face with Jackson the moment he nears the end of the tunnel.

Hurse: Care to explain yourself?

Hurse isn’t the only one frowning at his long time Alpha Generation cohort, for Katelyn Buehler is attached at Steven’s hip and frowns right along side of him. Obviously neither individual is very happy with Jackson, but even that doesn’t remove the grin from his face.

Jackson: For what? Getting under Porno Lad’s skin? I hardly think that deserves an explanation. A pat on the back maybe, and possibly a giant cake, but no explanation, definitely not.

For the third straight week in a row Hurse finds himself stunned by a response that he’s left literally speechless.

Katelyn: Uhhh, hello. He saw what you did to me on the last Riot!

Jackson feigns confusion.

Jackson: You’ll have to be more specific, I did a lot of things to you on the last show. Actually, are you sure it was even me? Because I think there was a long line of guys who were doing stuff to you on Riot! Stuff you’ll only see in a Max Craven video.

Hurse: How dare you….HOW DARE YOU!

Hurse takes a step towards Adams who leaps back with both palms defensively raised.

Jackson: Steve, relax, relax, relax….

Those same palms swipe through the air, but his gestures nor his words do anything to calm Hurse down.

Adams: What are you getting so bent out of shape about? So I forced Princess Skank-a-lot to face you? So I went against your orders and tried to injure Porno Lad? So I did something to your coffee while you weren’t watching…..

Hurse’s over active gag reflex almost makes him spew.

Jackson: But I only did all that for your own good…..

Buehler: HA!

Hurse: My own good?

Jackson: Yeah bro, I did all that because, well, because I love you.

Now it’s the fans who want to gag. Katelyn can taste vomit in her mouth, and for once it wasn’t induced by sticking her finger down her throat.

Jackson: I couldn’t stand to watch you get led around by your BALLS, and mistreated by another two timing bitch!

Katelyn: That’s it!

Ten nails lunge for Jackson’s eyes, but Hurse holds them at bay.

Hurse: I think I know who I can and can’t trust.

Jackson: Oh yeah, is that right?

Adams becomes almost confrontational, not taking kindly to the tone in his friend’s voice.

Adams: Then how come I constantly have to bail you out of the messes you get yourself into? First Robin, now Katelyn, your like a broken record. The fact that you’ve been trying to get on Porno Lad’s “good side” proves that everything you just said is BULLSHIT! If you think you can trust Porno Lad, or this nickel slut, your out of your friggin’ mind. Face it Steve, you need me to protect you from yourself. From your own misguided faith in people. And that’s all I’ve been doing the past few weeks. Just protecting you from you.

Hurse: Wow….now who’s BSing?

Jackson’s lower lip quivers, not needing this, not now.

Hurse: You expect me to buy that? All you’ve done throughout our whole partnership was stir up the hornet’s nest. If anything, you’ve got me into more pickles than you’ve gotten me out of.

Jackson: That’s INSA….

Hurse: You just can’t stand the fact that I’m happy. That I found someone who I ENJOY spending time with. And this whole issue boils down, not to my well being, but you getting YOUR way, no matter who you crush in the process. You told me four weeks ago that a title, A TITLE, meant more to you than our partnership. You refused to help me find Katelyn….

Jackson: Cause she’s a SKEEZER…..

Hurse: And every time I’ve needed you, you were off on your own business, being selfish. Yet when YOU needed a hand, when you needed a pat on the back, who was there for you, JA, who was there to lift you back up when you were down?

Adams: WHAT!?!

The sheer lunacy of Hurse’s accusations almost makes Adams as brain-dead as a Hollywood blond.

Hurse: The only time my happiness and well being mattered to you, was when you stood to gain from it. Well not any longer JACK, because this ends right now.

Jackson almost can’t believe what he’s hearing, so naturally assumes that he didn’t.

Jackson: Alright, you made your point, I’ll try to get along with Katelyn even though she’s a succubus sent from Satan to drain us of our man fluids.

Buehler tries to get her claws free from her husband’s clutches.

Hurse: If only I could believe that. I really want to, but I can’t.

Jackson: Can’t you see what she’s doing!?!

He drops the act like a flaming bag of pooh. His finger shakes in Katelyn’s face.

Adams: She’s turned you against me. She’ll stab you in the back the second she gets.

Hurse: To think of how much time I’ve wasted on you.

Hurse audaciously turns his back on Jackson, signifying the end to their friendship.

Hurse: Care to accompany me to the ring so that we can finish off the last person opposing our happiness?

Katelyn: I can’t think of anyplace I’d rather be.

To the delight of the Vegas crowd they witness the first glimpse of Katelyn’s and Hurse’s lips locking. They smooch in a passionate embrace that has Adams looking for a bucket to vomit into. The moment their lips separate, Katelyn turns to Adams and winks in his direction. She and Hurse walk hand in hand down the entrance tunnel, mere seconds from facing off with the Black Widow. They leave Jackson behind, who now realizes that for the first time in years he’s left entirely on his own.

ROBIN BROOKS © VS. HURSE

“House of the Rising Sun,” EverEve remix edition, gives the crowd cause for celebration, especially after just witnessing Hurse take a stand. To the stage the married duo of Katelyn Buehler and Hurse now stroll, still arm in arm. After the actions leading to their reunion, it’s apparent that their affection for one another has grown. The crowd can certainly tell as much after Hurse just severed a near five year friendship for the sake of their relationship, and is about to finally put his ex-lover behind him.

Mark: In all the years of the Submission Title’s existence, I’ve never seen a match contested for it more rich in backstory than the one we’re about to witness. Hurse, the second ever Submission Champion, goes after the title he feels was made for him, but there’s a lot more to this contest than just gold.

Hurse parts the ropes for Katelyn, allowing her to slip through and for the male fans to get a glimpse of her rear. They respond on cues with hoots and hollers, which for once doesn’t even bother Hurse. He seems to be walking on clouds, even if Robin is about to drag him right back down into reality.

Comeau: For five years Hurse and Robin Brooks were an inseparable tandem until Porno Lad came along, stirred the pot and caused their separation. Since the night of their failed wedding, the two have done everything in their power to get under one another’s skin. That brings us to right here tonight, the match I’m sure plenty have been anxious to see.

Hurse and Katelyn once again smooch, which just makes the challenger positively tingle. That sappy sensation leaves him the moment that Robin Brooks’ music is cued up. With “The Game” playing through the PA system the crowd unloads their verbal fury.

The look on Brooks’ face as she steps to the stage could pressure coal into a diamond. Her gaze could melt the polar ice caps. The weight of her feet stomping against the ramp could crack the earth in two. Obviously Robin isn’t happy, not one little bit as she ascends the steps to the apron. After having her plan go so awry, actually leading to the strengthening of Katelyn’s and Hurse’s relationship, instead of tearing it asunder, this match leaves her with her last chance to ruin Hurse’s happiness. Katie Steward, Paris Dannon, and Autumn Daniels all realize that as the trio follows the Black Widow to the ring and now loom just outside of it.

Mark: The Brat Pack entering the arena in force, seconding Brooks to the ring, but I don’t think their here just for moral support. Although I’m sure Robin thinks she doesn’t need them to beat her ex-boyfriend. After-all, just like Hurse was there for Adams, Robin was always the one watching out for Hurse, she realizes just how prone to making mistakes he is, and knows just how to capitalize on those mistakes.

As the Submission Title is given to the official, Robin doesn’t hesitate to offer up some last minute threats to her ex-fiancé. Hurse tries not to listen, for once in his life he actually tunes Robin out, trying to remain confident. The Submission Title is raised into the air, causing the fans to subdue themselves, although they are in quiet anticipation of the action their moments from seeing.

Mark: Well, after five years it all comes down to this. The official annulment of this relationship transpires right here in the center of the ring.

The Black Widow steps out of her corner, throwing some insulting comments at Hurse who is still trying to ignore them. He just shakes his head, takes a deep, cleansing breathe and moves forward to get the bout underway. With the bell chiming in the background Hurse’s words are hard to hear.

Hurse: It doesn’t have to come down to this.

Whether he’s speaking loud enough to talk over the bell or not is irrelevant because now it’s Robin who is tuning out her former lover. With Katie and Paris egging her on, and Autumn just looking emotionally distant, Brooks steps towards Hurse and immediately rakes his eyes.

Mark: This obviously not the way we wanted to see this match commence, but Robin has proven that she’s the queen of one thing, dirty tactics.

The damaged retinas of Hurse are now protected feebly by his palms, which leaves his nether regions entirely exposed for a boot from the Submission Champion. Her wide foot is just about to connect with both of Steven’s family jewels only to be caught mere inches from the challenger’s groin.

He pushes down on the foot, sending Brooks into a spin before Hurse hauls off and slaps her right across the cheek. A stunned Robin drops to her back, sliding across her rear-end, obviously not having expected her ex to physically put his hands on her.

Mark: A slap, a powerful slap at that, symbolizes that Hurse is indeed through with the Black Widow, but this match is just getting started.

Robin crawls towards the ropes, leans on the middle one for support and asks Paris if she’s got a blemish on her cheek from that blow. Once it’s confirmed that she wasn’t deformed by the slap, Brooks lunges to her feet and with obscenities flying, charges at her former beau.

Hurse quickly bends down, catches her against his shoulder and back drops her through the air. The Black Widow almost reaches the rafters before crashing into the ring.

The applause of one fan in particular motivates Hurse, and that fan is Katelyn Buehler. She claps and hops around excitedly at ringside. She only stops long enough to recoil from the encroaching Brat Pack members. Buehler forms a cross with her fingers, hoping it will be enough to hold them back.

Meanwhile, inside of the ring Hurse has dropped down behind Robin, folded her arm behind her back in a hammerlock and wrapped his own arm about her neck. He has a modified rear chin-lock, hammerlock combination grounding the feisty Champion.

Mark: Now we get our first hold, I’m glad someone remembered that this was a submission based match.

Robin twists from side to side, hoping to wriggle free of the hold. When such an attempt fails she wedges her feet to the canvas and actually begins to stand up, bridging her bum from the canvas. She gets to her feet directly in front of Hurse who uses his grasp on her jaw to spin the Queen around and deliver a prompt kick to the ribs.

Robin is doubled over before Hurse snapmares her down to the canvas. He once again slips up behind her and clamps his arms around her neck, establishing yet another rear chin-lock.

Comeau: Hurse desperately trying to cut off the blood flow to Robin’s head with that rear chin-lock variation.

The grounded Black Widow once again tries to find a means of escape. This time she is successful with her twists and body contortions, pulling her head out of Hurse’s clutches and taking by the wrist in the process. She stands up at his side, performing an arm ringer that has the former World Champion crying out in pain, but not for long.

He ducks his head into a forward roll, attempting to escape this submission. However, Robin had this escape scouted, dropping into a sideways roll as well. She ends up clamping her legs around Hurse’s bicep and forcing him down to his back, trapping him in an arm grapevine.

Brooks: Remember this hold, Steven, huh, huh? Well you should, you’re the one who taught it to me.

She takes great joy in not only going hold for hold with Hurse, but doing so by using the very holds that he taught her.

Mark: Robin not only getting that submission applied, but talking smack in the process. I don’t know which is more painful, the hold, or Robin’s voice.

Now it’s Hurse who tries to perform a dazzling counter and get himself out of this painful predicament. He pushes up with his feet and actually rolls over backwards to his knees. Robin rolls as well, turning onto her forehead and chest while her legs remain clamped about her ex’s bicep.

Hurse actually finds himself standing, albeit stooped over, now twisting his body just enough to step over Robin’s upper back and counter the arm grapevine into a Texas Cloverleaf.

Almost immediately Robin cuts loose with a primal roar of pain, her hand lifting into the canvas on the verge of submitting. The rest of the Brat Pack members spring into action. Autumn hops to the apron, purposely getting the referee’s attention, and once his back is turned towards the action Katie ensures that Hurse’s hold is broken.

She grabs Paris’ foot, removes her shoe and with all her strength tosses it through the ropes where it eventually connects with Hurse’s temple. The blow causes Hurse to releases Robin’s legs in favor of grabbing at his wounded head.

Mark: It didn’t take long for the Brat Pack to get involved in this match, Katie throwing a shoe, A SHOE, of all things into the ring to break up that hold.

Returning official Chester Princeton turns and spots the red heel laying next to Hurse’s body, immediately becoming suspicious. Autumn joins her Brat Pack comrades at ringside, the three quite pleased with how well their plan worked out.

In fact, their so busy giving themselves a pat on the back, that neither of them notice that Katelyn is filling in the blanks for official Princeton. She hops around on the apron, pointing at the shoe then down at Paris’ bare foot. It doesn’t take long for Chester to connect all the dots.

It takes his booming voice to finally get Paris and Katie to stop gabbing and to get Autumn’s attention.

Ref: You, you, and you….

His finger gestures in all three of their directions.

Ref: Your outta here!

The fans literally erupt as official Princeton kicks the Brat Pack out of the ringside area. Katie’s shrill screams are meant as protest but the official isn’t hearing none of it. He throws the red heel back to Paris and continues to order them to the back.

Mark: Thankfully the returning Chester Princeton was competent enough to realize what happened and is now barring Brat Pack from ringside.

The trio continue to argue with the official’s decision but back up the ramp nevertheless. All the while the crowd starts in with a “nah-nah-nah-nah, nah-nah-nah-nah, HEY-HEY-HEY, goodbye.” Katelyn adds even greater insult by waving bye-bye to the departing ladies.

Comeau: It’s so refreshing to see an official take a stand for once, especially after dealing with the mind-numbing idiocy of those scabs for the past few weeks.

Although there’s plenty of action taking place at ringside, there’s even more transpiring inside of the squared circle. Hurse is still holding his temple, but now pain shoots from his back where Robin promptly delivers a clubbing blow.

She shakes off the effects of that cloverleaf and spins Hurse around to take him by the wrist. Before Hurse can be whipped into the turnbuckle, he puts the breaks on it, instead sending the Black Widow into the corner. She spins around and crashes forcefully spine first against the corner, Hurse wasting no time as he follows her in.

The Black Widow is just as expedient as her opponent, jumping into the air in the process of revolving, landing on the middle rope then back flipping over her inbound challenger.

Hurse takes a risky gamble by diving at Brooks only for her to flip right over his head, sending him traveling through the ropes and cracking shoulder first into the exposed steel turnbuckle post.

Mark: Well that proved disastrous for Hurse, his shoulder creaming that post.

The pain shooting through Hurse’s arm has him blindly backing towards the center of the ring. He remains stooped forward, gripping at his wounded shoulder, which now becomes the focal point of Robin’s attack. She charges up behind him, grabs his arm, drags him along and then dives through the ropes.

The momentum of said dive causes her to pull Hurse through the ropes and shoulder first into the exposed steel post once again. This time his shoulder meets with even greater force than before, almost shattering it, along with his clavicle in the process.

He starts to back towards the center of the ring once more when Robin hops to the apron beside him. This prompts him to foolishly throw a jab at her with his wounded arm. Brooks ducks it, catches him by the wrist then springs to the middle rope.

She flies back and in the process yanks Hurse’s bicep down directly into the top rope.

Mark: And within seconds, Robin does a great deal of damage to that arm of her ex-lover. I’m surprised at how willing these two are to just mangle each other, when thinking about all the time that they spent together.

An aching Hurse stoops protectively over his arm, cradling it to his stomach like a newborn, defenseless baby. But Hurse proves to be the one defenseless, especially as Brooks flies off the top turnbuckle behind and delivers a double stomp to the back of his head.

Hurse falls to his knees with Robin landing in front of him on her feet and charging into the cables. She bounces off, then lunges across the ring into a front dropkick that connects to her former flame’s face. The Challenger collapses to his seat against the very turnbuckle that has proven to be such a hindrance to him tonight.

Robin continues to exploit it, taking Hurse’s arm, wrapping it around the middle cable and stretching it out. The bicep grinds against the rope and his shoulder has trouble keeping from being dislocated thanks to the awkward angle his arm is being bent in.

The malicious and methodical method in which Robin has begun assaulting the arm, is just another demonstration that she’s absolved herself of any love for her estranged fiancée.

Comeau: Robin still blatantly breaking the rules even though the rest of the Brat Pack is no longer out here in force.

Buehler’s hands slap the canvas and her screams reach the referee’s ears. Finally Princeton steps in and starts with a five count on Brooks, threatening to disqualify her almost immediately.

The thought of losing her X-Class Title is terrifying enough, however, it would be like a nightmare if she were to lose it to the very man she dumped. Therefore she breaks the hold, ceasing to illegally employ the ropes as the third combatant in this contest.

This doesn’t stop her from delivering a quick dropkick to Hurse’s shoulder while his arm is wrapped around the middle cable though. The Challenger is reduced to a quivering mess on the canvas, Hurse grabbing at his arm in a feeble attempt to offer some protection.

His bruised, possibly ripped bicep remains Robin’s focal point, grabbing him by the wrist, dragging his arm out over the canvas then going right back to work on her target. She springs off the bottom rope and comes down with a stomp directly to the shoulder.

Before Hurse can retract his arm and cradle it once again, Robin gets some help from the bottom rope by springing it off a second time, and then collapsing knee first into his bicep.

Mark: Who knows how much damage being done to the shoulder and bicep of the former World Champion. Since his separation from the Black Widow, Robin has become far more ruthless with her tactics. For God sakes we saw her suffocate Hellkat with a plastic bag over her head at Paranoia to retain her Submission Title.

Hurse can now pull his arm to his sternum, gripping tightly at the strained muscles but doing nothing to alleviate the pain. The agony he’s currently in, is only just the beginning for Robin, who grabs him by the wrist of his weakened arm and pulls.

She stretches his arm up into the air then delivers a swift kick to the shoulder.

A grimacing Hurse rolls in the direction of the nearby ropes, willing to use his first cable break if it should mean he’d get a second’s reprieve from the Black Widow.

While Robin would normally allow her opponents to quickly use up their three allotted rope breaks, she throws her normal strategy out the window in favor of continuing to hurt her ex.

The point of her elbow nails the nape of Hurse’s neck, almost severing the spine. He shows that he’s at least not paralyzed as he’s stood up, at least long enough to receive a spinning knee to the rib.

He’s doubled right back over, almost coughing up a lung as Robin continues to exploit his brittle body. She grabs his arm and turns her back towards him, smiling towards Buehler at ringside.

Robin: I’m about to show you how to make Steven REALLY scream.

Before Buehler can protest to the smiling harbinger in the ring, Robin is pulled down into a backwards roll. Hurse took a pre-emptive measure to keep from being trapped in the fujiwara. He drops to his seat and actually flips Robin over his side, sending her colliding with the canvas but quickly rolling to her feet.

She charges into the ropes spine first, not loosing her smile even as she once again lunges forward for a dropkick on her still kneeling opponent. Hurse once again takes counter measures, standing up, grabbing her inbound legs, separating them and then stepping through.

Before Brooks realizes it, she finds herself on her back, ready to be exposed to the sharpshooter.

Comeau: Hurse finally using his brain and truly getting into this match. He may already earn a submission here should he get the classic sharpshooter applied.

Robin once again tries to wiggle like a worm escaping a hook, but she can’t break free. Hurse is trying to get her over, but his arm is proving too badly damaged to do so. Brooks’ constant struggling surely doesn’t help, especially as she lifts a foot into the air and delivers a straight stomping kick to Hurse’s shoulder.

The strike proves effective.

Mark: Wisely Robin exploits the injury she created several moments ago and in the process escapes that hold. But how much longer can she keep alluding Hurse’s grasp?

Hurse stumbles back to the center of the ring, shaking off his arm, trying to get some type of feeling back into it. He looks up just in time to spot Robin charging in and lunging into the air. She looks to be on the verge of stealing one of Buehler’s trademark moves, the Lous Thez Press.

Unfortunately for the Champion her version doesn’t prove anymore effective than Katelyn’s. Hurse reaches up, catches her around the waist and snaps back into a release over head belly to belly suplex.

Comeau: It may have been out of desperation, but that’s just the move Hurse needed if he wants to keep his Submission Title hopes alive.

With a mangled arm Hurse continues to put up a valiant effort. Although it looks like that first collision with the turnbuckle seriously cracked something in his shoulder and collar bone, bruising already beginning to form around it, he keeps on battling the Black Widow.

Perhaps it’s Katelyn’s screams from ringside that continue driving him to push onward, or it’s just his ambition. Whatever the reason, Hurse rises to his feet just in time to spot an inbound Brooks. In the heat of the moment Robin comes charging at her ex only to have her legs swept out from under her.

She crashes to her back and once again Hurse steps through, trying to apply a version of the sharpshooter perhaps. He forgets just how big a nuisance his injured arm is, once again keeping him from promptly applying the hold. This allows Robin just the opportunity she needs to sit up, reach out and grab the ankle of her opponent’s foot.

Hurse had already stepped through Robin’s raised legs with one foot, putting it just close enough for the Champion to counter. She wraps her arms around the ankle and twists to her side, tripping Hurse up and sending him plummeting over her.

All the air is knocked out of him as he crashes face first into the canvas, which gives Robin even more leeway to quickly perfect her neck maneuver. She jumps over him landing at his side and grabbing the arm, she is DETERMINED to apply a submission upon it.

Comeau: Prompt counter by the Black Widow, transitioning us right back into her going after that arm, and should she capitalize on the trauma already inflicted upon it, she may very well leave here tonight Submission Champion. Ahhhh, how nice, no generic Susie Moore one liners following my brilliant dialogue.

Robin is actually looking to trap Hurse’s arm in a crossface of all holds, a move stolen straight from Johnny Kingdom’s playbook. A move that Robin knows has been quite effective against Hurse in the past.

Hurse makes sure that history doesn’t repeat itself however, as he climbs to his knees. Robin is already trying to wrap her hands around his chin, legs firmly secured as they clamp about his elbow.

The fact that she got her legs into position, around Hurse’s arm, first, proves to be fatal for the Black Widow. It allows Hurse to grab her by the crease of the knee as he rises to his feet and blocks her hands from interlocking in front of his chin.

She cannot help but to fall back to the canvas against her shoulders with Hurse still holding her by the knee. Hurse reaches his feet, turns to face the laid out Brooks and instead of going for the sharpshooter again, a move it’s proven that he can’t get cinched in, he instead rolls Robin to her chest substituting for a Boston Leg Crab.

Mark: Now Hurse showing some smarts, I guess there’s a first time for everything. He knew he couldn’t get that sharpshooter applied so he’s instead going with the Boston Crab, an equally effective maneuver. That’s why it’s sooo important to know a wide array of holds in this Submission division, you never know when you’ll be forced to bust out something rare.

Brooks gets to her elbows and immediately cuts loose with the most shrill screams imaginable. Screams so shrill they would burn the hair off a man’s knuckles. One thing she doesn’t scream though are the words “I Quit.” Her eyes briefly cut to the ropes, realizing that she’s only a few feet away and she’s yet to use even a single rope break.

She wedges her forearms against the canvas and begins to crawl yet suddenly realizes that Hurse is still distracted by the pain in his shoulder. This constant distraction keeps Hurse unaware that Robin has rolled to her back behind him, and is now wedging a foot to his rear-end.

She kicks him to the rear end and launches his stooped forward body at a nearby turnbuckle with all the force of a bullet shot from a gun.

Just as it seems that Hurse is going to being launched through the ropes, shoulder meeting steel yet again, the challenger is able to stop himself. He grabs the middle rope with both hands, no matter how painful it may be, and saves himself from sheer disaster.

He quickly turns back towards Robin and charges at her just in time to meet his now upright prey with a lariat. Or so he thought. Robin actually jumps into the air, catches him around his arm and drops back into the divorce court arm breaker.

The crowd groans, but nobody does so as loudly as Hurse.

The bones in Hurse’s arm may be dissolved into a puddle of sinew, his muscles possibly split bilaterally. He can barely stand to even touch it as he rolls to his back, left entirely at the mercy of his vindictive ex. Robin quickly stands up, turns her back on him and then performs a standing moonsault.

Somehow Hurse is able to roll out of harm’s way with just seconds to spare, causing Robin to have to alter her maneuver at the last second. With the grace of an acrobat she lands on her feet, swinging her arms to remain upright. All the while Hurse is climbing to an upright base and charging at his unstable opponent.

This time it’s a dropkick to the shoulder that sends Hurse down to the canvas. He twists away from Robin, falling to his knees and grabbing at his obliterated arm in horror.

Mark: Once again Robin goes after that arm, constantly shutting Hurse down by targeting it.

The Black Widow steps up behind Hurse and slaps him on the back of the head before taking his arm, and folding it behind his back. She drags him to his feet and charges him at the turnbuckle, attempting to throw him shoulder first into the exposed turnbuckle post once again, this time with his arm hammer-locked.

At the last second, just as all hope seemed lost, Hurse performs a standing switch, getting behind Brooks, taking her by the hair and pitching her through the ropes into the post. Robin finds herself screaming out in pain as her shoulder implodes against steel.

Mark: The Black Widow’s arm brutalized against that steel. She’s getting a taste of the pain she’s dished out on Hurse all throughout this match.

Brooks turns her back to the turnbuckle, leaning on it for support and crouching over her wounded shoulder. She looks up in time to spot the inbound Hurse, prompting her to lift a foot that connects against her forehead. The strike sends Hurse staggering backwards, looking incredibly dazed.

He tries to remain coherent, grasping to his last inklings of sanity as Robin comes charging out of the corner. Hurse bends down however and catches her by the creases of the knees, trying to lift her up and turn her around into the inverted Liontamer.

Brooks keeps her feet planted to the canvas though before reaching down, hooking Hurse’s arms and twisting him around into a backslide. The referee doesn’t even have a chance to inform Robin that pins are irrelevant before she releases Hurse, allowing him to drop to his stomach just so she can transition from back slide into fujiwara arm-bar.

Roar after roar of anguish emanates from Hurse, who already looks on the verge of tapping out. He lifts his palm, ready to slap the canvas and give into his anguish.

Mark: A very well timed reversal puts Hurse right into the fujiwara. Is Robin moments from retaining her Submission title, or can Hurse find someway out of this hold?

Hurse’s palm shakes above the canvas, fingers twiddling in anticipation of tapping out. Robin wrenches as far back on the arm as possible, almost snapping what remains on the bones inside of his shoulder. Her face tenses, realizing that this may be her final opportunity to force her former flame into submission.

However, after taking one look at Katelyn’s supportive face at ringside, Hurse starts to will himself towards his feet. He begins crawling across the ropes in desperation, nearing them inch by painstaking inch.

Comeau: Amazingly Hurse is going after the ropes, somehow blocking the pain of what has to be an excruciating submission.

Buehler stands on the opposite side of the cables, hopping and dancing around, trying her best to motivate him. She slaps the apron, getting the crowd rallied behind Hurse, which they are surprisingly eager to do.

Hurse is actually feeding off the response of the crowd, turning their energy into adrenaline. He reaches out finally for the cables which are so very near, Robin screaming at him to quit. For the first time in their long relationship, Hurse doesn’t do as told, wrapping his hand around the bottom rope to a building shaking reaction.

Mark: He’s reached the ropes! Using his first rope break to escape that fujiwara.

Robin is so livid she should be confined to a straight jacket. She immediately turns to her knees and begins clubbing him to the shoulder over and over again, satisfied by the screams emitting from Hurse.

Finally she takes hold of his wrist, dragging him to his feet by his injured arm and then stepping behind the bicep. While he is still kneeling Robin drives the point of her elbow repeatedly into his swollen, bruised arm. She now goes for a top wrist lock, folding his arm backwards over his shoulder.

Brooks finds herself flabbergasted when Hurse drops backwards, rolling across the canvas to his feet. He stands up in front of Robin and pushes past his trauma long enough to use his damaged arm to whip Brooks across the ring. Robin charges into the opposite ropes, bounces off and then turns her back on her struggling opponent.

She reaches up, catching Hurse around the head and going for the stunner.

Mark: Here comes the Spider Bite.

Hurse shoves Robin off at the last second, wedging his hands to her back and pushing her forward into the cables. She bounces off and comes back in at Hurse who connects with a spinning powerslam. She is driven with spine shattering impact against the canvas while Hurse flops over to his back, grabbing at his shoulder.

Comeau: Hurse may have delivered a high impact spinning powerslam, but it looks like it did more damage to himself than it did to Robin.

His arm may be attached to Hurse’s shoulder by a small thread of muscle but he is still working his way back to his feet. He steps up towards Robin, grabs her by the legs, throws them over his shoulders and tries to dead lift her from the canvas in order to deliver the Sanitizer.

He gets her up for the Styles Clash but Robin performs a surprisingly counter. She sits up on Hurse’s chest for a moment then snaps back into a hurricarana, flipping the former World Champion forward. He crashes across his back but tucks into a forward roll, ending up on his feet then lunging to the middle rope.

He springs off and gracefully twists around in mid-air to take the Black Widow down. Robin surprises the challenger by catching him around the arm, taking him down from the springboard into the fujiwara armbar. Those packed into the Hard Rock Café spring from their seats like they were sitting on tasers.

Their screams are borderline deafening as Hurse finds himself sprawled across the canvas screaming in pain and having his arm even further mangled in the Black Widow’s clutches.

Mark: Hurse taking an ill-advised dive right back into the fujiwara!

Hurse’s roars almost over power the crowd’s screams as his shivering palm raises into the air. Just before he can indulge his desire to submit he rolls away from Robin, flipping her up and over his rib-cage. She ends up falling across her shoulders on the canvas as Hurse twists around out of the fujiwara, bends down, wedging his shoulders to the creases of her knees, and hoists her up into the Sanitizer.

His version of the Styles Clash connects, slamming Brooks’ pristine features against the canvas.

Mark: Sanitizer, Sanitizer connecting! Hurse has been given a new lease on life.

An exhausted Hurse falls in an exhausted heap across the canvas, desperately trying to get air into his lungs and life back into his arm. He shakes it off repeatedly, but the blood flow just isn’t returning and it’s causing more pain than helping.

A dazed, incoherent Robin tries to snap out of it, and come through after being dropped almost right on her head. Hurse complicates matters by dropping down at her side, bending her arm over backwards and applying the Anaconda Lock.

Mark: A submission perhaps pending, a new champion on the verge of being crowned!

Robin stomps her heels to the canvas, trying desperately to free her head, which took the brunt of the punishment from that Sanitzer. Although his arm may be broken, Hurse is still employing it to maintain this hold.

That is until an all too familiar figure rushes down the ramp, a man determined not to be forgotten. Jackson Adams steadily jogs down the ramp, looking rather eager to reach the ring and help or perhaps hinder the man who threw him to the curb just moments ago.

Mark: Oh no, oh dear, oh lord, what is Jackson Adams thinking by coming out here? Didn’t Hurse make it crystal clear that their friendship is over?

Katelyn screams at Hurse, warning him that Jackson has popped up like a pimple. Hurse goes to squeeze said pimple until it bursts. He breaks his Anaconda Lock on a weakened Brooks and hops to his feet, promptly limping towards the ropes and shouting over them at Jackson.

Adams, who is met with a chorus of well deserved boos, merely holds his palms up, pleading his case, insinuating that he’s just present for moral support. Katelyn doesn’t bye it, prompting her to reach under the ring where she finds a steel pipe. She will not be lured into a false sense of security like she was last week, ensuring that Jackson doesn’t pull anymore tricks by taking a steel pipe into her palms. She slams it with force into the turnbuckle post, creating a ringing noise throughout the arena.

Jackson: I’m still gonna be here for you bro. Whether that pre-op tranny likes it or not.

Both Hurse and Buehler are offended by the comment, Katelyn shouting threats at Jackson from the opposite side of the ring and again swinging the pipe into the post.

Mark: Jackson out here to presumably lend a hand, but I think neither Hurse nor Katelyn are willing to take it.

The distraction of Jackson’s presence proves fatal for Hurse who is spun around by a recovered Robin, kicked to the gut and placed in position for the Spider Bite. Hurse demonstrates just what made him a former World Champion, no, not an over the top swerve, but a well timed counter.

He grabs Robin’s shoulder, spins her around and places her in position for the Disinfectant. He rushes at the nearby turnbuckle, about to step up it and deliver his version of the contra code. Robin counters and counters in a big way, by planting her feet, freeing her head and grabbing Hurse’s wounded arm.

She falls to her seat, trying to drag him down into the fujiwara for a third and FINAL time.

Mark: Another tremendous series of counters from these two phenomenal athletes, which may just bring us to the end if Hurse is forced to submit or can’t reach the cables for his second rope break.

Just as Robin falls to her seat, Hurse tucks into a forward roll, ending up on his feet and in the process freeing his arm. He steps towards Brooks with a pep in his step, grabbing her around the head, forcing it under his seat and shooting his good arm up above his head to signal for the Sanitizer.

Mark: A monumental reversal of fortunes, puts Hurse right back into position to nail his finishing move.

The crowd is teeming, lunging from their seats in anticipation of seeing a second Sanitizer that could put the final metaphorical nail in Robin’s metaphorical coffin. There’s nothing metaphorical about Jackson’s clothesline though, Adams illegally entering the ring and trying to take out his former partner.

Comeau: HEY! That snake Jackson Adams has just turned on Hurse, trying to eliminate him with a lariat!

Luckily for Hurse he has the instincts to duck the inbound lariat, Jackson staggering across the ring in shock that his plan backfired. He spins around as hastily as a man about to face the firing range, and for good reason. The second his attention shifts back to Hurse, his former mentor throws Robin into Adams’ ribs with a spear.

The tackle knocks both Robin and Jackson to the canvas amongst a rip roaring reception from the crowd.

Mark: Hurse killing two birds with one stone, and for once I don’t have to worry about Susie making some generic comment about that figure of speech.

The crowd is surprisingly behind Hurse who has overcome seemingly every obstacle thrown at him by his long time lover here tonight, including the shocking interference of Adams. Robin lays on top of Jackson with the referee trying desperately to regain order.

He attempts to roll Adams out of the ring while Hurse gets into position to put an end to Robin. He crouches, waiting in great anticipation for her to stand up and spin around so that he can finally take her out with another Sanitizer. Unfortunately for him, things go horribly awry when a steel pipe is swung directly into his shoulder, possibly separating it as a result.

The fans watch in horror as Katelyn swings and connects with the steel, debilitating her husband.

Mark: NOOOO!

All the fans can do is stand and gawk, their faces a depiction of their shock over such a truly unexpected turn of events.

Comeau: Katelyn….she….she just turned on Hurse. And not in the good way either.

The crowd isn’t the only one shocked, so is Hurse, perhaps even more so. He lands on his knees, not fully aware of what just transpired thanks to the crippling pain emanating from his possibly shattered shoulder. Without the slightest semblance of remorse, Buehler steps in and swings the steel pipe into the back of his neck, rendering him completely unconscious.

Mark: No, not another shot from that pipe!

Hurse lays almost comatose across the canvas, eyes half open, looking like a man who just ingested an entire bottle of Ambien. Brooks looks up from her knees at the departing Buehler, a smile forming on both their faces. The insidious grins matches this insidious plot, Brooks moving across her knees and now applying a Rings of Saturn style hold on what’s left of her ex.

Comeau: Now the Rings of Saturn locked in, there is no way, NO WAY, for Hurse to free himself, even if he weren’t knocked out cold by those shots with the pipe.

The crowd is incapable of mustering so much as a single solitary response as their eyes behold the sight of Hurse mouthing the words “I Quit.” The referee turns around and spots the submission, prompting him to motion for the bell, drawing an end to this climax.

Mark: And it’s over, dear God it is finally over. Robin Brooks forcing Hurse to tap out after one of the most shocking, twisted turn of events I’ve ever witnessed. I did not see this coming at all. Robin working in collusion with both Katelyn Buehler and Jackson Adams to railroad Hurse here tonight.

The Black Widow pumps her fists in the air, celebrating this emotional, albeit twisted end. She may not be able to stand of her own accord or retrieve her title, which is why her co-conspirators help out. Jackson slides into the ring with the Submission Title in hand while a clapping Buehler steps in to assist Brooks to her feet.

Those filling the Hard Rock Café are still speechless, their heads shaking as the full magnitude of what they just witnessed begins to set in on them. Robin stretches the Submission Title out over her forearms, almost crying into her gold.

Buehler and Jackson pat the high strung Black Widow on her back and cackle at the expense of the man they all just bested. Hurse lays on the canvas, a quivering wreck of a man, broken, bruised and humiliated, a shell of his former self. Happiness has been snatched away from him yet again, not only losing this title match and losing his best friend, but now losing the woman he thought he’d spend the rest of his life with.

Katelyn and Jackson take particular amusement in that fact, Buehler demonstrating as much as she gloats over her now former lover. Adams snatches Hurse by the arms, pulls him to his knees on the canvas, and holds him up just long for Katelyn to deliver a slap to his cheek.

Mark: Haven’t you three done enough?

Now it’s Robin’s turn to rub it in. With Hurse still propped on his knees by Adams, Robin steps forward and shakes the title in front of his face. She then grabs him by the bangs, lifts up on his head and plants a kiss on his lips. While Hurse would normally be turned on my public displays of affection, even in his altered state he realizes that this is no more than a kiss of death.

Robin steps back, cleans her lips with the back of her palm then spits right in Hurse’s glazed over eye. Jackson takes him by the hair and physically throws him down face first into the canvas, where he lays motionless.

Mark: One of the most stunning events I daresay in the history of the IWC has just occurred live on pay-per-view. I couldn’t foresee these three working together. I have no idea what force brought them together, but the impact they just made was catastrophic.

The ring quickly fills with even more bad news. Paris Dannon, Katie Steward and Autumn Daniels all slip through the ropes, the Goddess of Desire looking elated over what just happened. She steps in and delivers a stomp to the back of Hurse’s head before turning to eye Adams and Buehler.

Steward throws her arms out to her sides and Katelyn steps in, the two hugging to a show of repulsion from the crowd. Paris steps in shaking Jackson’s hand then congratulating the victorious Black Widow.

Mark: Good heavens. Just look at the army Robin Brooks has assembled here in the IWC, not only bringing in the Brat Pack but also uniting with Jackson Adams and Katelyn Buehler. This is a nightmare, an absolute nightmare.

Hurse lays at the feet of the group celebrating above his shattered body.

IT TAKES THREE TO TANGO

Miho: Owe, oh, ahhh.

Miyazaki grips painfully at the back of her neck, still placing most of her body weight on the shoulders of Susie Moore and Porno Lad. The trio move towards the trainer’s room, where Miho will presumably receive some much needed medical help. The misfortune of the Asian import seems unimportant to the N.H.B Champion.

Porno Lad: Remind me why we’re helping her again?

Susie tries to offer an explanation that Porno Lad won’t deject.

Susie: Because she’s our friend, Ethan, and she needs us. She told you she’s too hurt to walk.

Porno Lad: Ummm, she’s no friend of mine Susie Q.

Moore: Well, she’s MY friend.

Porno Lad: Why? You can’t even understand what she’s saying half the time.

Moore: Sure she may speak gobbily-goo, but the two of us share a connection. I get her, and she gets me. We’re totally like the Governator and Danny Devito in that movie Twins, we’re in synch.

Porno Lad: I’m sorry, but you’re FAR hotter than Danny Devito. I don’t know though, just seems like I can be spending my time much more fruitfully by watching what’s going on in the ring. You know, being prepared for whatever might happen. But instead I’m dragging around this cun….

Miho: Hellooo, I right here.

Miyazaki’s broken English interrupts the conversation, a fact that Porno Lad does not take lightly.

Porno Lad: HEY! I agreed to help you, not hear you speak with that derivative accent. Now SILENCE before I drop you.

The scorned Miyazaki hangs her head.

Miyazaki: I sorry, if only I have way to make up to you.

Susie and the Champ stop walking simultaneously, literally freezing in mid-step. They share a glance, wondering if they’re on the same wavelength.

Porno Lad: Hmmmm, interesting. Are you thinking the same thing that I am?

Susie: I’m way ahead of you, Porny Porn.

Miho looks back and forth at their plotting faces, liking where this is headed.

Susie: Miho, we have a little proposition we’d like to make.

Miho: Listening.

WITCH HUNT

A blinding light switches on, the click being heard right alongside the sound of the bulb powering up. Almost immediately the luminosity brings AWOL’s face out of the darkness and into the light. The gleam from his bald head and the always intense frown on his face coupled with that homicidal glint in his eye all clear cut reminders of his identity. His normal grimace seems even more pronounced this evening.

I hope your understand why I called you here?

A well dressed figure passes behind him before pulling up a stool. Orlando Cruze takes a seat on it, unconcerned by the crossed arms and furrowed brow of the ever so unpredictable former Champion.

AWOL: Yep.

There is clear apathy to his tone.

Cruze: Do you really?

AWOL: It’s pretty obvious. You want to wag a judgmental finger in my face, throw around some accusations, and use me as a scapegoat, that’s about the gist of it.

Orlando’s thought process is not derailed by AWOL’s assessment.

Orlando: This isn’t about accusations, this is about finding the truth.

AWOL: No, what this is about is wrapping up your investigation with a nice little ribbon before you head to the beach with your wife and kids. You need someone to pin this on, and I’m an easy target.

Cruze: You wouldn’t be if you weren’t making it so easy.

AWOL: I think you need to take a second and ask yourself, what would I have to gain from attacking Johnny Kingdom? The answer, NOTHING.

Orlando: It’s not that simple.

AWOL: Actually it is, but leave it you to complicate matters.

Cruze: I’m not just blindly pointing the finger at you, AWOL. There’s evidence to back up my accusations.

AWOL: Such as.

Orlando: Well, how about motive? You and Johnny aren’t exactly chummy. He did after all, get you to almost break your ex-wife’s neck.

AWOL: An incident I should be thanking him for, not attacking him over.

Cruze: And you did try to cripple him time and time again. Let’s also not forget the fact that he kicked you down a flight of stairs.

AWOL shrugs.

AWOL: Plenty of people have done far worse.

Orlando: Okay, now that we’ve covered motive, how about opportunity? You were present in the Manhattan Center on both nights that Johnny was attacked. The first night I know you were there keeping an eye on things, and the second time he was assaulted I called you in to discuss a new contract. I hardly think that’s a coincidence.

AWOL: I’d have trouble swallowing that too. And hey, let’s face it, I wasn’t just given that Big Crazy Bastard moniker for nothing.

Cruze: Exactly. So you see why it was prudent of me to call for this meeting.

AWOL: Meeting? Don’t you mean interrogation? Oh well, I guess an interrogation is better than a court marshal, I at least know the charges being brought against me, and I do have the right to defend myself.

Orlando: That you do.

AWOL: But I’m not going to.

Cruze: Now would be a good time to clear your name. This is your opportunity to take suspicion off yourself.

AWOL cracks his knuckles and interlocks his hands comfortably behind his head.

AWOL: Go on being suspicious. I don’t owe you, or anybody explanations.

AWOL’s relaxed demeanor makes Orlando uncomfortable.

Orlando: Seeing as it’s my name on your paycheck, yes, yes I do think you owe me an explanation.

Orlando hits AWOL where it’s especially painful, his income.

AWOL: Again, I stood to gain nothing from attacking Johnny. Don’t you think if I were going to assault him, I’d do it where everyone could see? Where he knew it was me doing the beating? I’m here for financial gain, and an immediate World Title match would certainly pad my wallet. So if I were the one who attacked him, I’d want him to know and as thus promptly challenge me to a match, put the title on the line to bait me into accepting it, blah, blah…. you know the whole ordeal.

He dismissively waves his palm through the air.

AWOL: I wouldn’t turn out the lights and hide in the shadows for weeks, plotting his downfall. I’m far too apathetic and far too broke to do that. Besides, for me, it would be so much easier to just tear him to pieces.

Orlando: Hmmm. I guess you do have a point.

AWOL: Of course. But now we come to the part where you pretend not to be fully convinced, so you can build up suspense and keep accusing me to shift focus off guys like Nathan and Riggs…..

Cruze: They may still be suspects, but I’m just covering all my bases here.

AWOL: Sure you are. But I’m not going to sit back here defending myself any longer, it bores me, and wastes valuable time I could be using to make more money.

The former GM steps out of the light and towards the door, twisting the knob to step out. He leaves Orlando with even more to mull over via one final parting shot.

AWOL: Good luck with your witch hunt.

The door closes behind his back before Orlando can so much as reply.

PARDON THE INTERUPTION

As strange as it may appear to see Mark Comeau standing in the ring instead of sitting behind an announce table, you’re just going to have to deal with. With microphone clutched in hand Mark occupies the squared circle, where he wastes little time getting down to business.

Michelle Blacker: Heeeey everybody….

There is no joy in Blacker’s voice.

Michelle: This is Michelle Blacker subbing for that ditzy slut here at the announce table, and as you can see, assuming that your not having your eyes burned out by a flaming red hot poker, which would be wicked, Mark Comeau is in the ring for an interview….or something….I don’t know….ask him.

Comeau tries to generate some hype from the still emotionally stunned crowd.

Mark: Ladies and gentlemen, right here tonight on pay-per-view we’re scheduled to see Johnny Kingdom defend his World Heavyweight Championship against challenger Pat Evans…..

The concept of that pending match is enough to wake up the crowd.

Comeau: As many of you may know, there has been a great deal of controversy involving the way that Evans received this title opportunity. Therefore, to get an explanation from Evans as to why he signed the contract offered to him by Christian Savior, and agreed to face Johnny here tonight, I’m now calling Pat to the ring to come clean.

The fans are rattled by such a concept, yet are fully prepared to get answers straight from the horse’s mouth.

Mark: Come on, Evans. You’ve been shying away from the cameras all week, it’s time for absolution. It’s time to let us all know what compelled you to sign that con….

” Animal I’ve Become” hits the PA system. This song is the last one the fans or Mark expected to hear. They cut loose with a display of raw emotion as Too Magnificent moves to the stage. The Golden One stands in the entry way for only a moment before starting towards the ring and speaking over his music with the aid of a house mic.

Too Magnificent: Pat Evans…..are you serious? You think these fans want to hear about him and his convoluted motives? Pfft, please tell me this is some type of incredibly lame joke.

Michelle: I do find it lame, but not funny.

The untamable Too Mag continues towards the ring, now starting up the stairs.

Too Magnificent: No, these fans want to hear something juicy, something spicy, something nipple tingling!

He steps over the ropes continuing to dismiss the boos from the crowd.

Too Magnificent: They want to hear all about Psycho and his checkered past.

The boos stop, the fans now legitimately intrigued. Too Magnificent realizes he has them in the palm of his hand, therefore instead of just getting to his point, he forces them to suffer by prolonging his announcement.

Too Magnificent: I uncovered some very interesting details about the IWC’s resident sadomasochist, and I intend on divulging that information right here, right now. So get the fuck out of the ring Mark, before your head ends up on the receiving end of my trash-can.

Comeau doesn’t have to be told twice. Even though he doesn’t like it, he vacates the ring, dropping to the mats and returning to his home behind the announce table.

Too Magnificent: Psycho thought there wouldn’t be ramifications for putting his hands on me, but that’s where he’s wrong. That’s where he’s always been wrong. And let’s just say, that I’ve always taken great pleasure in correcting him. Which is exactly what I’m about to do once again. This announcement I’m about to make is huge, no, no, it’s magnificent, no, no, it’s EARTH SHATTERING! Psycho’s life will never be the same after tonight. A night where I will destroy him both verbally and physically. That’s right, as soon as I finish this statement and finish off my opponents, I’ll be coming to finish Psycho too. If Axl Evermore gets in the way, I’ll take care of him as well. The more the merrier. I promise that Psycho will not leave here tonight as Cartel Champion, nor will he leave here on his own two feet.

The flaring of Too Magnificent’s nostrils, and the reddening of his flesh tells the world just how serious he is.

Too Magnificent: But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, let’s get to the TRUTH! Are you ready for the truth Las Vegas?

Some fans cheer, others sit on their hands.

Too Magnificent: Good, because the truth is that…..

Too Magnificent’s words are cut off by the jarring intro to Sean Johnson’s entrance music. The flustered face of the big man shifts to the entry way where Sean does not delay to appear. The Griffin makes his way through the curtains, shaking a palm through the air and waving a microphone all about.

Sean Johnson: Whoa, whoa, whoa, NEWS BREAK, STOP THE PRESSES….

He continues to make as big of a ruckus as humanly possible, a ruckus that causes Too Mag to come more and more unglued.

Sean: Did I hear you correctly? Did you just “insinuate” that your going to interfere in the Cartel Title match….?

Too Magnificent: That’s right, and after I get through with Psycho I might just leave with the championship too.

Johnson: WELL NOW….

He emphasizes his words in an arrogant fashion that the crowd just eats up.

Sean:….aren’t you the little miscreant?

Too Mag obviously has no time for name calling or pissing contests, desperate to complete his revelation.

Johnson: I hate to step on your toes Too Mag, and be the bearer of bad news, BUT….yes, yes, I said but, and emphasized it to boot….BUT….I had my own plans for the Cartel Title match tonight, and let’s just say they contradict yours.

Too Magnificent: No, no, NO! This is my night, MY NIGHT! I have plans that cannot be altered, by you, or anybody! And if you even try to get in my way tonight, I’ll…..

Sean: What? What will you do? Spout off some generic threats? Fart in my cereal? Crack me in the head with a trash-can? Attack me in the shower with a plunger handle? WHAT!?!

Too Magnificent: Oh, I can do far, far worse.

A truly disturbing grin forms on his face, Too Mag just picturing all the tortures he can subject the loud mouth Johnson to.

Johnson: Why don’t you prove it Too Mag? Seems to me that you spend a lot of time claiming that you’re going to hurt someone yet you never follow through. Actually, to be more accurate, you FAIL, time and time again.

The Griffin’s words make Too Mag’s skin crawl. He’s so blinded by anger he barely even notices that Sean is now climbing the steps to the apron.

Sean: So after we’re done eliminating AWOL and tossing him out of the way, what do you say that the survivor of this match gets to follow through with their plans for the Cartel Title. Sound fair to you?

Too Magnificent takes deep breathes to calm himself, rubbing his huge jaw in the process. He’s actually contemplating Johnson’s offer.

Too Magnificent: I can compromise. You have yourself a deal. But I’m only agreeing to this because I know when you step foot in this ring I’m going to absolutely annihilate you.

Johnson: Likewise my wonderfully stereotypical friend.

Even this barbaric threat isn’t enough to keep Sean out of the ring, he slips through the ropes into the very heart of madness.

Mark: Well, Johnson and Too Magnificent making a compromise of sorts, although they were less than diplomatic.

Blacker: Diplomacy bores me.

Comeau: I’m sure it does. But they seem to have reached the consensus that the winner will get to follow through on their plans for tonight’s Cartel Title match between Psycho and Axl Evermore. Although I doubt either man will adhere to that agreement should they be on the loosing end of this three way.

Too Magnificent and The Griffin tensely stand opposed to one another, Johnson actually offering up a hand.

Sean: GREAT. So now that we’re in agreement, how about we shake hands, take out AWOL, then settle OUR differences. I am a man of my word after all.

His twiddling fingers anticipate a shake from Too Magnificent. The brute glares down at the palm then up into Johnson’s features before a grin so chilling it cold cool lava stretches across his face. His palm engulfs Johnson’s.

Too Magnificent: I’m not.

His other hand drops the microphone then goozles Johnson, hoisting him up into the air for the chokeslam.

SEAN JOHNSON VS. AWOL VS. TOO MAGNIFICENT

The blows have Too Magnificent all shaken up, his legs almost cutting out from under him before he’s booted to the ribs and doubled over. Sean steps over the back of his head and begins to hook both arms, setting up for the extreme pedigree.

Mark: So much for the two of them taking out AWOL first. I told you this compromise would be short lived, although I didn’t think it be so short lived.

Michelle: It was as fleeting as my happiness.

Just before he can be given the pedigree, Too Magnificent twists free, taking the wrist of his opponent in the process. He spins completely around then utilizes his grip on the Griffin’s wrist to pull him into a front chancery. The Magnificent One is now setting for the Midas Touch.

Comeau: Now Johnson about to be dumped on his head.

Blacker: Would somebody just fall on their head already? I’m getting bored.

Johnson wedges his shoulder to Too Magnificent’s ribs and physically overpowers him. He charges his heavy opponent spine first into a nearby turnbuckle, breaking his head free from the front chancery in the process.

A relieved Johnson stands, chops Too Mag across the sternum then attempts to whip him across the ring. Too Magnificent puts the breaks on it, reversing said whip by instead sending Johnson into the opposite corner. Sean charges at the turnbuckle, lunges into the air, lands feet first on the ropes then springs off and twists around into a crossbody.

He connects, taking Too Magnificent down with Sean on top. Official Wright bolts towards the ring as fast as his legs will carry him. He slides in but doesn’t even have time to make a count before Too Magnificent presses Johnson off of him.

He throws Sean up into the air with such force that Johnson actually lands on his feet then moves in for an elbow drop. Too Mag spots it coming from a mile away, giving him enough time to roll out of the way and cause Sean’s elbow to drill the canvas.

He falls across his back, grabbing at the point of his elbow while Too Magnificent springs off the ropes then lunges into the air. He extends his leg only to drop it directly across the canvas.

Mark: Both of these men avoiding everything being thrown at them. Where is AWOL by the way?

Michelle: Probably backstage shaving his head. You know, I don’t even use cream when I’m shaving, it lessens the experience.

Comeau: How wonderfully disturbing.

Now it’s Too Magnificent who falls to his back, grabbing at his thigh in a great deal of pain. He’s left entirely exposed to Sean, the Griffin bouncing off of the cables and this time lunging into the air for a big splash. He comes down right on top of Too Magnificent, finally connecting, but wait, no, just as he connects he’s caught around the throat.

Comeau: It could be chokeslam time.

Sean rises to his feet with his neck engulfed by Too Magnificent’s palm, the angry giant getting to his knees. This is just the opportunity Sean needed to free himself, delivering a quick boot to the jaw of his kneeling opposition. He now drives the point of his elbow down into Too Magnificent’s forearm, finally breaking his hand away from his throat.

Johnson is free just long enough to take Too Mag around the neck and snap back into a tremendous DDT. The big man’s skull cracks canvas and his body flops to its back. Sean crawls into the cover, hooking a leg but the official barks at him that he can’t actually make a count until AWOL has arrived.

Sean: That’s horse shit!

The Cartel Title #1 Contender rises to his feet, snatches hold of Too Mag’s hair, leads him over to his knees and begins to pummel him once again. Finally, after far too long a delay….

YOU BETTER GO AWAY

These words erupt from the speakers and through the curtains strides AWOL. The obligatory mushroom cloud shaped explosions rock the staging area as AWOL proceeds through them. There is no hop in his step, no eagerness or excitement of any kind as he moves down the ramp. In fact, he almost seems to be dreading his participation in this triple threat.

Mark: AWOL finally headed out here after his opponents have already begun brutalizing one another. Maybe that was his strategy, less work, more money.

Michelle: Sounds like a great strategy to me.

AWOL stops at ringside, realizing that his participation in this match is mandatory. It’s that revelation, and only that revelation, that prompts him to climb to the apron and step over the ropes into the ring. Almost immediately Johnson rushes at him only to run right into a fist to the jaw.

The blow has Sean staggered as AWOL connects with jab after jab to his face then moves in and delivers a swift, very effective headbunt. The blow topples The Griffin to the canvas amongst groans from the crowd. Some of the fans adore the brutality, others boo the late arrival of the Big Crazy Bastard.

Their reactions do not alter his methodical gameplan. He approaches Too Magnificent, takes hold of his bangs, and drags him up to his knees. A well timed knee strike nails Too Mag right to the eye, almost breaking the orbital socket. He falls to his back and rolls across the canvas while AWOL’s attention shifts back towards Johnson who is now propping himself up in the corner.

AWOL gets a running start before delivering a high impact lariat directly to Sean’s throat, knocking his legs out from under him. He tumbles to his seat, back pressed to the corner for support while AWOL wedges a foot to the side of his cheek.

Several of the fans rise to their feet, realizing that AWOL is setting up for. He grinds the sole of his boot across Sean’s face, then does it again, and again before turning around and bolting across the ring. He bounces off of the far ropes, building momentum for the face wash, only to run surprisingly into the shoulder of Too Magnificent.

The Sadist lunges into AWOL’s path, catches him against his shoulder, hoists him into the air and delivers a ring shaking spinebuster.

Comeau: Too Magnificent using that raw power to take AWOL down via the spinebuster. The strength of this man is just….it’s just unbelievable.

Michelle: Try laying on a bed of nails, now that takes strength.

Mark: Try doing commentary with Susie Moore for two hours a week, it takes far more willpower.

The momentum has been taken out of AWOL’s body by that impressive feat from Too Magnificent. He hooks AWOL’s leg, hoping to capitalize on his Herculean feat of strength.

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Johnson rushes out of the corner and stomps the back of Too Magnificent’s head, breaking up the pinfall.

Mark: Johnson right on time to prevent a three count. You’ve got to have eyes in the back of your head for these types of matches.

Too Magnificent begins to stand up only to have Johnson place him in a side headlock and begin delivering right hand after right hand directly to his forehead. The blows have the big man all off balance, almost unable to stand as he’s dragged up to his feet and Irish Whipped into the ropes.

Too Magnificent bounces off of the cables then comes back at Johnson, throwing an instinctive lariat. Sean ducks the inbound bicep, causing Too Mag to continue on into the opposite ropes. He bounces off of those and now goes for a bicycle kick to Sean’s face.

Once again Johnson is quick enough to duck and avoid the boot, but the rising AWOL isn’t. In fact, he doesn’t even bother to clear out of the way. Instead he catches Too Magnificent’s leg over his shoulder then drops back into an overhead capture suplex.

The fans are absolutely amazed at the sight of a man Too Mag’s size being effortlessly suplexed by the returning AWOL.

Comeau: And another display of just INCREDIBLE strength, this time by AWOL.

Too Magnificent grips at his kidneys, roaring in pain while AWOL works his way to his feet in front of him. Now he’s the one who’s placed in a side headlock and subjected to the right hands of Johnson.

Sean delivers punch after punch to AWOL’s forehead, trying to keep him grounded. Finally AWOL just stands up, hoisting Johnson from his feet and into the air on top of his shoulder.

Before he can unleash a dreaded back drop suplex Sean floats over, landing on his feet behind the self described bastard. Sean barely even has time to plant his feet before a recovered Too Magnificent steps up behind him and hooks both arms, setting up for a shocking full nelson slam.

He hoists Sean up just as AWOL turns around to continue punishing the Griffin. Sean derails both men’s plans, lifting his feet into the air and using his boots to kick AWOL in the face. The blow knocks the Big Crazy Bastard back a few steps while Sean drops back to his feet then falls to his seat, sliding right down Too Magnificent’s stomach.

He lands on his back, reaching up with his legs and wrapping them around the giant’s waist. Too Mag cannot prevent being flipped over into a forward roll, Sean seated on his chest and holding down the creases of his knees.

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Too Magnificent kicks out, launching Johnson into a backwards roll. He ends up on his feet though, using the momentum of the kick out to propel him into the cables. He bounces off and comes charging back in at his laid out opponent who suddenly catches Sean with a monkey flip.

Johnson is sent flipping through the air and crashing upside down right into AWOL’s sternum. The fans erupt as both men collapse to the canvas, Sean coming down on top of the menacing legend.

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AWOL somehow has the strength remaining to kick out before the three.

Comeau: What a unique maneuver we just witnessed, Too Magnificent almost unintentionally giving his opponent the win.

Michelle: That was neat. It wasn’t cool because nobody was smoking a cigarette or reading poetry.

Mark: And the generic dialogue continues.

AWOL rolls across the ring, ending up on the apron in an attempt to create some space between his opponents. Too Magnificent descends upon Johnson, Sean still trying to recover from that nasty collision. He takes him by both arms, forces him up to his feet and begins to shake him back and forth.

Comeau: A modified double chickenwing applied by Too Magnificent, we saw Robin use a variation of this to force Hurse into submission moments ago, will it do the trick here?

Sean roars in pain as he’s lifted from his feet and swung side to side. Too Magnificent has the submission brutally locked on, almost breaking the arms as he continues throwing Sean around but not breaking his hold.

Finally, just before he’s forced to scream the words “I Quit,” Sean lifts a foot and stomps down as hard as possible on the toes of his opponent. Too Magnificent roars in pain, breaking his submission almost immediately as Sean stands up in front of him, and delivers a swift European Uppercut to the jaw.

Too Magnificent is staggered but not taking down. He plants his feet then steps in and delivers a jab of his own, this one connecting with even more force that Johnson’s uppercut. Sean is staggered by the blow then lunges in and delivers a forceful forearm to the cheek of his massive opposition.

Somehow Too Magnificent is still standing, as is Sean after this lethal exchange. At least both men are upright long enough for AWOL to come barreling in and almost beheading them both with a double lariat.

Mark: AWOL almost taking both of his opponents’ heads off with that stereo lariat! When this guy gets going he’s like a freight train.

Michelle: Yes, but trains are only interesting when they crash into something.

AWOL turns around, grabs the wrist of one Johnson and rolls him over so that he’s laying on top of the Magnificent One. He takes off into the ropes, bounces off then lunges into the air, coming down with a big back first splash directly across Sean’s lower kidney area, compressing him against Too Magnificent as well.

All three men suffer from that last maneuver, AWOL almost playing the part of a sadomasochist with the manner in which he’s willing to sacrifice his own body. He grips at his kidneys while rolling to his side, taking Sean by the hair and pulling him up to his knees.

Behind his back Too Magnificent is also trying to get up, at least getting one knee beneath him. AWOL becomes the aggressor on both opponents, stepping towards Johnson and delivering a swift, brutal open hand palm strike to the cheek. The slap sounds like a gun-shot, eliciting the obligatory “woo” from the crowd.

Sean wavers back and forth teetering on unconsciousness while AWOL turns his attention back towards Too Magnificent. He steps in and nails yet another slap, this one even more vicious than the last and this time connecting to Too Mag’s face.

Michelle: AWOL slapping them around a bit, now this is my idea of foreplay.

Mark: I’m not sure if AWOL’s dominance has more to do with his late arrival to the ring, or if he’s feeding off the rage of that interrogation backstage.

AWOL grabs Sean by the back of the head and Too Magnificent, wedging their skulls together at the scalp. With their craniums pinned against one another it allows AWOL to easily deliver a headbunt that connects to both of their skulls at once.

Johnson collapses to his hands and knees while Too Magnificent does the same, AWOL the only one left standing, albeit on weak legs. He staggers and stumbles back and forth, trying to remain upright but finding himself leaning backwards into the ropes.

He bounces from the cables and comes barreling in at both of his recovering opponents, trying to maintain his advantage. Unfortunately for AWOL, he runs right into a raised boot from Too Magnificent. Somehow Too Mag got up in the nick of time to deliver the kick that sends AWOL twisting but not falling.

The Big Crazy Bastard turns around to face Johnson who boots him to the ribs, doubles him over, hooks both arms then delivers the pedigree. AWOL is planted across the top of his head into the canvas before rolling to his back where he lays seemingly comatose.

Mark: A collective effort takes out AWOL. These two finally following through on their verbal agreement before the match, although they may not even realize that they did.

AWOL lays on his back with eyes desperately trying to remain open as he slips further and further into the grips of unconsciousness. Too Magnificent doesn’t allow Johnson to go for the pin however, he promptly steps towards his kneeling opponent and grabs him around the head, forcing it under his seat.

Too Magnificent lifts a fist into the air, registering a loud response from the crowd. He now hoists Johnson up onto his shoulders in a powerbomb position only to have Sean slip off at the last second. The Griffin lands on his feet directly in front of Too Magnificent and spins around into the Titanic Kick.

Too Magnificent has the wherewithal to duck it, Johnson’s boot barely missing his skull. Sean spins completely around as a result, turning just in time to spot Too Magnificent charging at him with a double axehandle. A boot to the ribs, doubles Too Magnificent over though, Sean sitting on the back of his head and hooking both arms for that pedigree yet again.

Too Magnificent surprises him with a counter, wedging his hands to Johnson’s gut, standing upright then pushing him off across the ring. Somehow Sean lands on his feet, preventing his face first collision with the canvas. He swings his arms to remain upright as Too Magnificent now comes barreling in to lay him out. That’s when Sean twists around and drops the hammer, delivering the Titanic Kick.

Mark: Too Magnificent walked right into that one!

Blacker: Of course he did, he’s just like me. He’s coocoo for pain, and possibly co-co puffs, I’m not sure, you’d have to ask him.

Too Magnificent somehow remains on his feet even after that devastating superkick, finding himself staggering back first into the turnbuckle. He falls against it for support, eyes as glazed as donuts and body as weak as dust in a wind storm. The corner is the only thing currently holding him up, serving as aid for both himself and the inbound Johnson.

The corner is almost a tag team partner for the Griffin, propping Too Magnificent up just long enough for Sean to come charging in. He jumps into the air, landing on the corner with both feet at opposite sides of his dazed opposition. He begins to drop his fist over and over again into Too Magnificent’s dazed features, really doing cutting loose.

The crowd counts along with each jab that connects, reaching ten before a groggy AWOL becomes the killjoy, cutting short all the fun. He steps up behind Johnson, blasts him across the upper back with a forearm and then drags his arm through his legs while reaching up and hooking the other one.

Comeau: Oh my, OH MY, AWOL setting up for the Daisy Cutter out of the corner yet again! This is how he beat Max Craven in his return match.

AWOL groans as he pulls Johnson off of the turnbuckle and drops him to his feet on the canvas, still holding him in the pumphandle, but from this position he has a far better grip. He quickly lifts Johnson up into the air to deliver his deadly finisher only for Sean to provide a surprising counter.

He slips up and over AWOL’s shoulder, landing on his feet behind him then shoving the Bastard forward into Too Magnificent’s waiting grip. Too Mag catches him around the waist then falls back into a downward spiral, planting AWOL face first against the second turnbuckle pad.

He bounces off and collapses to his back while Too Magnificent uses the turnbuckle to drag his ailing body back to his feet. The turnbuckle continues to bare the brunt of Too Magnificent’s weight, at least long enough to allow Johnson to pick up where he left off.

Sean charges at Too Magnificent and lunges into the air, landing on the turnbuckle above him. He begins to rain down with right after right to the forehead then actually proceeds to begin biting him to the bridge of the nose.

Michelle: YEAH. Oh yes, YES, keeping biting him!

Mark: I think we’re going to need Michelle’s chair cleaned after this match.

Too Magnificent finally frees himself by introducing yet another opponent face first into the turnbuckle. He grabs Sean around the thighs then drops to his seat, pulling him down face first into the top turnbuckle pad. Johnson’s head bounces from the turnbuckle, which he now needs to lean upon to keep HIMSELF upright.

Although as dazed and confused as a man who just ingested an entire wall of paint chips, he begins to stumble out of the corner, turning to the center of the ring. This instinctive movement proves fatal, because it puts him right in Too Magnificent’s clutches.

Too Mag snatches him by the throat, heaves him into the air and spikes him into the canvas with the chokeslam like Sean were in the hands of a football player who just scored the winning touchdown.

Mark: Chokeslam delivered, and now Too Magnificent may be given the opportunity to follow through with his plans for tonight’s Cartel Title match.

Too Magnificent surprisingly doesn’t go for the cover, no, that would be far too grand a mercy for Johnson. Instead Too Mag decides it’s time to unleash the dreaded Midas Touch, a move that has been on the shelf for far too long. He takes Sean by the hair, rolls him to his knees and places him in a front chancery.

Sean is no more than jello in Too Mag’s arms, powerless to defend himself against impending doom. Too Magnificent realizes this, hence the ever widening grin on his face. He chuckles as he prepares to lift Johnson and cause perhaps irreversible brain damage.

It’s at this moment, where Johnson is on the brink of annihilation, that AWOL unexpectedly intervenes by dragging Too Magnificent down into a school boy. Obviously AWOL is hoping to catch him unaware with his guard down.

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Too Magnificent launches a shoulder from the canvas at the last conceivable second, just barely preventing being pinned.

Mark: AWOL almost caught Too Magnificent with his pants down.

Michelle: Now that would be entertaining, as long as both men are into cigarette burns.

Too Magnificent rises to his feet after freeing himself from the near fall and staggers around out of shock. He immediately rushes at the rising AWOL though and takes him around the head, determined to deliver the Midas Touch on somebody.

AWOL will not be a victim however, he grabs Too Mag’s wrist, twists his body out of the front chancery, steps behind his opponent’s back, pulls his wrist through his legs and drops back into the Daisy Cutter. Too Magnificent crashes forcefully against the canvas then rolls to his back, in prime pinning position.

AWOL crawls towards him and wedges an elbow to the wounded Too Mag’s face.

Comeau: Midas Touch countered into the Daisy Cutter with expert timing from the former champion!

The referee slides into position to make the count.

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Some fans rejoice, others have a vastly different reaction to the sight of AWOL’s victory. He rolls to his seat and is barely even motivated to celebrate. All he does to salute his win is raise a clinched fist above his head.

Comeau: And the Daisy Cutter leads to victory number two for the returning AWOL after an intense three way encounter.

Blacker: Could have been far more brutal. It was actually tame by my standards.

Mark: I imagine anything that doesn’t involve the use of jumper cables is tame in your book. But please don’t diminish the magnitude of this hard fought victory. Somehow AWOL overcame two very game athletes here tonight to emerge victorious.

Sean is still indisposed dealing with the pain in his spine from the chokeslam, which rendered him incapable of breaking up the pin. He only begins to come through when AWOL’s music hits the PA system, reminding him that although he came close to victory tonight it slipped through his fingers.

Too Magnificent on the other hand isn’t celebrating, or recovering, instead his fatigued body has rolled under the ropes, dropping across the outside mats. With body rattled by the numerous blows it’s withstood in this contest it has to be considered a miracle that he’s even moving, let alone crawling under the ring to retrieve something.

Mark: A grueling triple threat capped off with a Daisy Cutter and the victory for AWOL at Upping the Ante. The action continuing to be non-stop on what has already been one of the more shocking nights in IWC history.

AWOL stands triumphant in the ring , pacing back and forth with a lethargic waltz. In his mind there is no cause for celebration. Whether he wishes to celebrate or not, becomes irrelevant when a trash-can collides with his upper back, knocking him to his elbows and knees.

MEDIOCRITY

The blow from the can knocks all the wind out of AWOL’s body, leaving him crouching on the canvas with Too Magnificent standing above him. The dented steel remains in the hands of the ultimate sadist, Too Magnificent relishing the manner in which he just spoiled AWOL’s night.

Mark: And now this spoiled sport Too Magnificent taking out his frustrations on AWOL with that trash-can.

Michelle: I’d use a studded whip myself.

Too Magnificent’s attention deviates from the man who pinned him to the man who irritates him, Sean Johnson. The Griffin and current number one contender for the Cartel Title, begins to will himself to his feet. He turns to an elbow, still looking shaken up by that chokeslam, completely unaware that Too Magnificent is descending upon him with trash-can raised above head.

The official pleads with Too Magnificent to stop this barbaric act, but his pleas are drowned out by the screams from the crowd. Nothing will stop Too Mag’s compulsive need to bash Johnson in the head, fueled by only his most primal desires.

He lifts the can above his head and prepares to swing before Johnson surprises him by delivering a jab to Too Mag’s ribs, doubling him over. The can falls out of his hands and rolls under the ropes to the outside mats, Too Magnificent about to join it.

Sean stands up and spears him to the ribs, taking both he and Too Magnificent through the ropes. Both men crash to the mats and immediately begin exchanging shots.

Mark: Johnson fighting back against this onslaught and now we have a full scale mugging breaking loose at ringside.

Too Magnificent and Johnson reach their feet, both men still drilling one another to their jaws with closed fists. They seem determined to remove one another from Cartel Title contention as they move around the ring and around the ramp, the very ramp that Psycho is now strolling down as he descends upon the ring.

Mark: Oh wonderful, as if things weren’t already chaotic enough, now here comes tonight’s challenger for the Cartel Title, Psycho.

Michelle: Oh goodie, he and I haven’t had a little group therapy session together in forever. My scars were just about to heal, so his timing is impeccable.

Too Magnificent Johnson brawl right past the man they had set out to attack earlier in the night, scuffling around the stage to the backstage area. Psycho is left unopposed as he moves up the steps and slips through the ropes into the ring. The Sadistic One stands in a corner, watching AWOL trying to get back to his feet.

Mark: I can already feel the tension in the air. Psycho occupying the same ring with AWOL once again. The history of these men has been well documented.

Psycho casts aside any hesitation, strolling towards the still recovering AWOL and ending up at the side of his former mentor. AWOL stands up and finds himself nose to nose with his protégé.

Mark: In a scene eerily reminiscent of the night AWOL returned to the IWC, he and Psycho find themselves face to face in the ring yet again. I can only imagine what this is all about and what Psycho’s motives are for coming out here.

Blacker: I think they should both just focus on me instead of on one another. I won’t even put up a fight, unless their into that type of thing.

Intensity shines in both men’s eyes, their hostilities for one another almost overpowering their senses. With nostrils flaring, veins pulsating through flesh, and skin color changing, the two prepare themselves for the inevitable.

Billy: Axl….AXL…..where are you going?

The voice filters through the PA system and the Cartel-Tron comes to life with images of Axl Evermore. The Las Vegas crowd responds with cheers to not only the sight of Axl, but over the fact that he’s storming towards the ring. The Cartel Championship is draped over his shoulder, the very title Axl has fought so hard to defend and wears so many wounds over defending. Billy Mayne anxiously tries to keep up with him, microphone stretched forth from his palm.

Mayne: Come on, give your old pal Billy the scoop.

Evermore looses his focus for only a second, turning towards Billy with almost ravenous eyes. Eyes that could melt ice and twists bowels.

Axl: I seriously hope your paid with bits of string….

Billy: Actually I’m paid with food-stamps.

Evermore: That’s far too generous. Where am I going? WHERE AM I GOING!?! Isn’t it fucking OBVIOUS!?!

His palm gestures to the entrance tunnel at his side. Billy shrugs, still not catching on.

Axl: I’m going out there to finish this….

Mayne: Finish what?

Evermore: Jesus, you really are clueless aren’t you? Okay, I’ll spell it out slowly. I’m going to the ring to END Psycho, to END all the attacks, to END the ambiguity over who should be holding this title.

The Cartel Title slips from Evermore’s shoulder and is stretched out between both palms.

Axl: I’m not waiting around till later to put my gold on the line, giving Psycho a chance to set up whatever convoluted swerve he’s come up with for tonight. I’m not waiting around just to be a victim. Been there, done that. Tonight we’re doing things on MY terms. There won’t be any attacks, there won’t be any returns, or run ins, there will only be me defending, successfully I might add, my championship.

Billy: You seem awfully confident.

Axl: Don’t I have the right to be? I’ve survived everything, EVERYTHING that Psycho has thrown my way, whether it be elbows, or trash-cans, or Too Magnificent, and yet I’m STILL Cartel Champion. That isn’t going to change tonight, no matter how terrified Psycho is of failure, of living a life of mediocrity. He’s horrified at the thought of being just normal, of having nothing (Cartel Title belt is raised aloft) to distinguish himself from everyone else. Unfortunately for him, he’s just going to have to deal with being mundane, with being just like everyone else on the roster, sans the champ….

Axl slaps the gold plate of his belt, emphasizing his point.

Evermore: But one thing Psycho won’t have to worry about is being forgotten. Because everyone is going to remember the beating that I give him in that ring tonight. No matter how much they try to forget the images of this match will be seared into their brains. Every time they close their eyes they’ll see the blood dripping down Psycho’s face. When their alone at night they’ll hear his screams. What happens to Psycho in that ring moments from now will be on the audience’s mind for a long, looooong time.

Billy: What makes you so confident that it won’t be YOU left laying in a pool of blood for the fourth week in a row?

Axl runs his hands over the scars in his forehead, a slight chuckle filtering from between his clinched teeth.

Axl: Unlike Psycho, I’m not driven by a fear of mediocrity, I’m driven by revenge. Besides, while my opponent may need big generic hoss moves and redundant displays of schizophrenia to get himself over, I have no need for gimmicks, I don’t need to blindside my opponents, I don’t need to weaken them, I don’t have to rely on the aid of others, because I have TALENT. I have actual SKILLS. And it’s those skills that are going to leave Psycho laying, and leave me celebrating.

The belt is returned to Axl’s shoulder, a place he’s confident it will remain after the impending match. His eyes turn to the camera to offer a parting shot.

Axl: Psycho, I hope your ready….

Evermore twists around and marches through the entrance tunnel towards the ring. At the end of that tunnel, one of the biggest matches of his IWC career rests ahead.

AXL EVERMORE © VS. PSYCHO
2 OUT OF 3 FALLS

STEP UP hits the PA system and the crowd is now foaming at the mouths in anticipation of this match. Psycho, who witnessed everything via the Cartel-tron, is now more eager than ever to prove Axl wrong.

Mark: We’re not going to stew in anticipation any longer. AWOL has cleared the ring, leaving it one on one, we’re going to see Axl put his Cartel Title up for grabs this very instant.

Michelle: Good, the more violence, the better.

Psycho clinches his fists in anticipation of throwing them into Evermore’s face. He doesn’t have to wait any longer as Axl steps to the stage.

Comeau: And there he is, the man who just made the challenge which I’m assuming Psycho was eager to accept. These two are no longer hesitating to get this 2 out of 3 falls confrontation underway, and what a match this promises to be.

After having said his peace, Axl Evermore wastes zero time bolting straight towards the ring. All inhibitions, all pain from lingering injuries are pushed aside in favor of getting his hands on just one man, one individual who has tortured and tormented him for the past several weeks. The very victimizer who rolls out of the ring, rushes up the ramp and greets the inbound Axl with a straight shot to the jaw.

Evermore is quick to respond with a blow of his own, both men exchanging fisticuffs to a rousing reception from the packed Manhattan Center crowd.

Comeau: And we are underway with one of the most explosive matches on the card tonight.

Michelle: Yeah, I’d like to see them explode, their blood and guts and entrails would be all over the place. Oh yes, ohhhh yes!

Mark: Michelle, keep your hands out from under the announce table please.

The fans are frothing at the mouths as these two continue their physical one-upmanship. It’s Evermore, driven by a hankering for revenge, that gets the better of his rival. His fists connect with a little more power and speed, sending the Sadistic One staggering backwards in the direction of the ring.

Finally Evermore boots him to the ribs, takes him by the back of the head and charges him at the barricade. Unfortunately for Axl, Psycho still has the strength left to counter. He turns, grabs Evermore by the wrist and instead sends him charging at the barrier.

Just before the Champion’s body can implode against steel, Evermore lunges into the air, clearing the barricade and landing out amongst his adoring fans. Some of the Vegas fans gladly serve as props to hold Evermore up as Psycho realizes that his plan has been thwarted, that the Champion avoided the barrier.

He comes charging in just as Axl springs onto the top of the barricade and then leap frogs his rival. Psycho charges under him and ends up slamming ribs first into the barrier, his body doubling over it.

Comeau: Psycho not thinking clearly and it cost him in a big way!

Michelle: Yes, he is big, and sweaty. I wish he would just squish me under the layers of all that fat.

Mark: I think I just vomited in my mouth.

Evermore displays even more agility, hopping to the apron and grabbing the top rope. His planned springboard goes awry when a recovered Psycho reaches up and grabs his ankle, pulling him down out of mid-flight.

His intent was to drag Axl down face first into the apron, however, Evermore instead lands on his feet at ringside, preventing any cranial damage. The challenger falls back first against the apron, his eyes widening in anger as Axl comes charging in.

Thinking quickly, Psycho bends down, wedges his hands to the inner thighs of the Champion and throws him over his head. Surprisingly Axl lands on the apron, grabs the top rope and jumps over it into the ring, turning around to face Psycho in the process. The moment that his feet hit the canvas he once again lunges into the air, this time flying over the top cable into a senton pancha that connects with the Sadistic One’s shoulder, sending both men crashing to the mats.

Mark: Some amazing agility from Axl Evermore. This man so proficient at blending a variety of different styles, all of which he is using to keep Psycho unbalanced.

Axl stands up, claps his hands together and receives a deafening reaction from the crowd. The fans are thoroughly enjoying this match, many of which having ventured away from the slot machines just to witness the resolution to this intense rival.

One man who doesn’t share their reaction however, is AWOL, who quietly sits himself at ringside, taking over the time keeper’s chair. He has perhaps the best seat in the house to watch the climax of what has been a brutal feud.

Mark: AWOL not leaving the ringside area as you can see.

Michelle: Actually I can’t, my mascara is so thick it makes it impossible for me to actually open my eyes.

Comeau: Well then, you’ll just have to trust me.

Blacker: How coincidental, that’s just what I tell my clients when I start busting out the whips.

Comeau: Yeah, I remember.

The action continues at this frantic pace as Evermore watches Psycho struggle to his feet. The Sadistic One employs the apron to stand up as Evermore jumps on top of it behind him. Before Psycho realizes what’s happening, Axl leaps off of the apron and drives a knee to the upper back of his challenger, sending him reeling into the exposed turnbuckle post.

Psycho bashes off it and then spirals into the barrier, now using the steel as a prop to hold up his fatigued body.

Mark: Psycho’s head taking a nasty bump against that post. Evermore is just hitting him from all directions.

The Challenger looks lost as Evermore steps in and blasts him to the jaw with a right hand. Surprisingly returning referee Stuart Wright gives both him plenty of leeway, not even commencing with a ten count. Although he’s been gone for weeks, Stuart understands the personal nature of this feud and will not allow it to end on a technicality.

He permits every closed fist that connects with Psycho’s forehead, Axl looking to make his rival bleed the same way that the Sadistic One has done to him so many times over the past month.

Since closed fists aren’t doing the trick, Axl climbs once again to the apron, a useful prop in his vendetta. He flies off the apron and connects with a double axehandle to the top of his opponent’s head. Psycho somehow remains upright, putting all his weight spine first against the barricade.

Evermore delivers a painful chop against Psycho’s sternum, leaving a red mark across his flesh. Obviously Axl is holding nothing back, not interested in pacing himself and preserving energy, his animosity towards the Sadistic One has caused him to throw strategy out the window.

Evermore jumps back to the apron, but this time, instead of leaping from it to dish out punishment, he begins climbing the nearby turnbuckle. He reaches the second rope, briefly points out over the screaming crowd then takes flight. He comes plummeting towards the scarred psychopath for another double axehandle.

That’s when Psycho steps out of the way, causing Evermore to tumble skull first across the railing of the barricade.

Mark: Ohh no! Axl’s wounded head colliding with the barricade!

Michelle: That looked painful, even by my standards.

Axl brain is indeed rattled by the collision, his arm dangling over the barrier and keeping him upright while his eyes roll to the back of his head. His legs can barely maintain his body weight, severally shaken up after all the attacks targeting his head over the past three Riots!

He tries to shake it off to the best of his abilities, but such a feat is made impossible by his aggressive opponent. Psycho steps in, scoops Axl up onto this chest then shows his raw strength by tossing him up to his shoulders. Axl finds himself in a fireman’s carry for only a moment before the Sadistic One hits him with a death valley driver, causing the back of his head to meet the barrier while the rest of his body plummets to the concrete.

Comeau: AAAAHHH!!

Blacker: Oh how I love that sound.

Mark: A DV…..a DVD onto the barricade, Axl’s skull could be fractured, it could be split like a watermelon.

The observant AWOL nods, fingers stroking his jaw all the while. A small gash has been created in the back of Axl’s head, blood dribbling down his back at this point. But that seems to be the least of Evermore’s worries, given just how damaged his head was coming into this confrontation. After that last move, the extent of his injuries may have been exacerbated ten fold.

Mark: I think this match is over, no need for one fall, two falls, three falls, NOTHING. Axl is no shape for this to continue.

Blacker: What a pussy.

Psycho spends no time rejoicing over the career ending maneuver he just delivered. Instead he reaches over the barrier, grabs Axl around the jaw, drags him up to his feet and engulfs his throat with both palms. As Axl’s eyes flutter, bordering on slipping into a coma, Psycho drops back, delivering an overhead release choke bomb.

Evermore flies over the barricade, over his opponent’s body and eventually slams into the thin protective matting.

Michelle: Ewww golly, how I do love this business.

Mark: Now Axl’s body pulverized! How much more can this man possibly tolerate?

Psycho moves eagerly, realizing that victory is all but a certainty, putting him up one fall to zero. He yanks Axl to his feet, although Evermore may be nothing more than a bag of fractured bones. The resilience seems to have been taken out of Evermore’s body as he rolls under the ropes towards the center of the ring.

The challenger slides in and crawls on top of Evermore, forearm wedged to his face. Referee Wright doesn’t look comfortable making the count but does his job. He falls to his knees, slapping the canvas to a building rattling reaction from the crowd.

Comeau: We’re about to see the first pinfall.

The referee’s palm slaps the canvas with Psycho quietly counting to himself.

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2

3!

Unbelievably Axl shoots his foot into the air, raising a shoulder from the canvas. The quivering lips of Psycho are incapable of forming words. He is as stunned as a deer in headlights, amazed by Axl’s sheer willpower.

Mark: AMAZING! Even after taking that DVD onto the barrier Evermore finds the strength to kick out.

Michelle: Hmmm, I’d love to get him in my gimp suit. He can take a real pounding.

A frustrated Psycho engulfs Axl’s face with his palm, raising his head from the canvas then slamming the back of it against the ring. A groan emanates from the crowd as Psycho lifts up on the head again and then drives it violently against the canvas.

Mark: I think Psycho is fully intent on giving Axl brain damage.

Psycho wraps his palm around Axl’s throat, trying to asphyxiate him at this point. Axl’s face goes blood red, gasping for air as he continues to be victimized by his barbaric opponent.

It isn’t until Wright reaches a five count that Psycho wraps BOTH hands around Evermore’s throat, dead lifting him from the canvas then throwing him into the turnbuckle. Axl falls against it spine first before Psycho comes barreling in delivering a big splash that engulfs his opponent.

Axl’s legs cut out from under him, tumbling to his seat and finding himself propped against the corner. An ever aggressive Psycho moves to the center of the ring and then goes bolting straight at his opponent. He turns and throws all his weight hip first into Axl’s skull.

A fearful Vegas crowd shows concern over Evermore and the condition of his targeted head. Their fear only motivates Psycho, telling him that he’s doing a good job. He rushes across the ring a second time and throws his hip directly into Evermore’s severally battered skull.

Mark: I think we’re about to see a repeat of history, because the referee is going to have to throw out this match. There’s no other way considering what Psycho has been doing to Axl’s head and the fact that Evermore just doesn’t know when to quit.

Michelle: That’s why I use safe words, for my clients to tell me when I’m going too far. Pussies.

Axl is plucked from the canvas to his feet then hoisted into the air with a gorilla pressed and dropped face first into the turnbuckle. Evermore’s skull bounces from the top turnbuckle pad and sends him staggering backwards into a reverse goozle. The massive palm of the Sadistic One engulfs the back of the Cartel Champion’s head then he charges him forehead first into the turnbuckle once again.

The emphatic collision knocks Axl from his feet and sends him rolling towards the center of the ring. At this point it must feel like a road crew is swinging pick axes to the soft tissue of his brain. It pulsates against the possibly cracked confines of his skull, trying to break loose as it continues swelling.

He palms both sides of his head, trying to hold it together as he rolls into the ropes. He grabs the middle one, trying to employ it to drag his ailing body to its feet. That’s when Psycho storms across the canvas, delivering a swift, powerful running boot directly to Axl’s temple.

The blow is powerful enough to send Evermore twisting through the ropes and coming down to the apron across his spine. His leg dangles over the middle rope before Psycho kicks it over to the apron with the rest of his body. As he huffs, puffs and almost growls, the challenger reaches through the ropes, takes Axl by the pony tail and uses it to drag him to his feet.

Axl is only upright long enough for Psycho to deliver a headbunt straight to his scalp. Somehow a wheezing Evermore remains on his feet, although he’s slowly plummeting backwards, about to splash the protective outside mats. Psycho doesn’t let that happen, no, no, he has other, far more painful plans for his rival.

He reaches out, hooks Axl’s armpit and hip tosses him over the ropes into the ring. That’s when Psycho reaches up, catches Axl around the neck and drags him down from the hip toss into a reverse neckbreaker.

The back of Evermore’s head connects with tremendous force across the canvas, causing him to writhe in anguish. He sits up grabbing his skull, hands interlocking around the back of his head. That’s when the ever aggressive Psycho takes him around the neck, rolls him to his feet and dead lifts him from the canvas into a Muscle Buster position.

Psycho spins in circles and then finally drops back, adding emphasis to this deadly maneuver that has Evermore crashing across the back of his head once more.

Axl’s body is briefly folded up like an accordion before he pops from the canvas to his seat. Both eyes are extremely glazed over, looking like sugary donuts.

Psycho pulls him down to his back and falls into the lateral press, convinced that victory is all but a guarantee.

Comeau: Another series of blows to that head, Axl just can’t take anymore of this.

Michelle: Then maybe I wouldn’t want him as a client. He probably wouldn’t even make it through the battery cables to the nipples, and that’s just the first round.

Psycho’s gnashing teeth could shoot sparks at the official as his hand slaps the canvas.

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2

The reaction is explosive when the crowd witnesses another kick out by Evermore.

Mark: This is a borderline miracle.

The scarred challenger pulls Axl to his seat then hits him with a lariat taking him right back down to his back. He hooks both legs this time, desperate to give himself that one to nothing lead in this best of three bout.

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2

As if Evermore’s shoulder were spring-loaded it launches from the canvas like a clown from a jack-in-a-box. The furious Psycho stands up, drops an elbow to Evermore’s sternum, rolls to his feet and repeats his move. He stands up for a third time and on this occasion drops down fist first directly into Axl’s forehead.

The Champion stills has the strength to sit up, or at least his body does so instinctively. His hands wrap around his head once more, trying feebly to protect it. This attempt proves futile because Psycho is only just getting started. He pulls Evermore up to his feet, and once again hooks him under the armpit.

He charges across the ring and throws Evermore up into the air as far as he can toss him for the hip toss. This time things don’t go as Psycho had planned because Axl flips forward and shockingly lands on his feet. Psycho’s eyes go wide the moment than Evermore lands as gracefully as a cat.

He now comes charging up behind Axl who lunges into the air, turns upside down and hits an inverted drop-sault. The kick sends Psycho stumbling backwards, swinging his arms to remain upright while his hurting, bleeding opponent hobbles to his feet in front of him.

Axl’s back is still aimed to his upright opponent who moves in, who quickly recovers from the dropkick. He steps in looking to lock Axl up in the cobra clutch only to walk right into a Pele kick. The Champion’s shin nails Psycho to the temple, giving him a taste of his own medicine.

Somehow the Sadistic One is still standing, no matter how wobbly his legs may be beneath him. An ailing Evermore begins standing up only to find himself shocked at the sight of Psycho barreling straight at him. The brute goes for a lariat that is surprisingly ducked by Evermore.

Psycho continues forward, bouncing off of the far ropes then charges at Evermore who turns, lunges into the air and nails a picture perfect dropkick. The maneuver sends Psycho stumbling backwards, swinging his arms to remain upright before finally tumbling through the ropes to the outside mats.

Mark: Evermore’s speed proving to be an effective weapon at this point, getting himself right back into this encounter.

After all these kicks catching Psycho from all different directions he’s left scrambling for a way to get himself back on the offensive. He kneels down on the mats, shifting his jaw back and forth to pop it back into place. All the while Evermore, who is now the aggressor, steps to the ropes, sticks his head through and reaches down for the deranged bastard.

Unfortunately he finds himself on the receiving end of a shot to the head via Too Magnificent’s trash-can. The dented steel folds around Axl’s head and sends his body tumbling into the ring.

Michelle: Mmmmm, now things are getting kinky.

Mark: For no reason whatsoever, Psycho just swung for the fences and possibly caved in Evermore’s….well, I think his skull already was caved in.

The referee has no other alternative but to motion for the bell, which chimes in the background. He now shouts to Kailey Worf at ringside, informing her of his decision, a decision that justly reprimands Psycho for his out of control behavior.

Kailey: Ladies and gentlemen, the first fall of this contest is awarded to Axl Evermore via disqualification.

While everyone in the building would expect to see Psycho loose it, and go on a lunatic binge, he instead smiles so wide it could severe his face in two. As the can slips from his hands he slaps them together, as smug as a bug rapped in a rug.

Comeau: Wha….wait, he didn’t, don’t tell me he purposely got himself disqualified in this first fall just so he could incapacitate Evermore with that trash can shot to the skull.

Michelle: I wasn’t telling you anything, but I was thinking of all the ways I can make you scream.

Mark: I think a restraining order is now pending. Don’t you get Psycho’s strategy? He’s okay with going down one fall to nothing, as long as it further injured Evermore.

Blacker: He’s such a brilliant sadist. That’s why I had a HUGE crush on him at one time.

Axl lays on the canvas, barely coherent after that disturbing blow to the skull, a skull that has already suffered far too much over the past month. Psycho slithers into the ring like a snake on the cusp of striking with its venomous fangs. He realizes that his prey has been paralyzed, and now it’s only a matter of time to move in and make the kill.

Although the ref, and the crowd let Psycho know that his actions will not be tolerated, nothing can remove the smile from his face. A smile as permanent as the ones adorning the faces on Mount Rushmore. So that’s what he does, he waits stone like in anticipation, crouching on the canvas and watching through his narrow gaze as Axl tries so valiantly to reach his feet.

In fact, Psycho isn’t even stunned, nay bothered by the fact that Axl still has adrenaline rushing through his veins, fight remaining in his weary muscles. He was actually counting on Evermore’s resistance to yield to his pain. With every movement Evermore groans in pain, although his brain may be too damaged to even remember what agony really is.

He continues ascending towards his feet, some fans begging him to stay down, others believing he still has enough to get back into this contest.

Mark: After everything that has been thrown at Evermore, and everything that he’s been thrown into, the mere notion of him getting back to his feet would normally be scoffed at. But anyone would laugh at such a possibility, obviously doesn’t know Evermore.

Michelle: All I know about Axl is that he’d look good with a gag in his mouth.

Comeau: Why must all the women around here be so stereotypical?

The fans can feel the passion radiating outward from Evermore’s fatigued body. They know that despite their pleas he’s determined to bring honor back to the Cartel Title, even if he has to sacrifice his career doing it. So he stands, perhaps fully aware, despite head trauma and all, of what he’s in store for.

He turns nevertheless, finding two hands clamping about his throat and then is hoisted into a Gonzo Bomb that connects with enough emphasis to rattle the ring.

Mark: That may have done it. Like a gnat wandering into a web, Psycho has trapped his opponent and may have just finished him off.

Axl’s legs are thrown over Psycho’s shoulders and he leans forward for the pin. The referee drops down making the count half heartedly.

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3

The tie is now scored, 1 to 1 but Psycho obviously has the definitive advantage. After four weeks of beat-downs, that one last shot to the skull, and the Gonzo bomb may have been the final straw that broke Axl’s back.

Mark: And now the score is all tied up, Axl and Psycho sharing a fall a piece. Although Psycho sacrificed the first fall just so he could put Evermore in this predicament.

Michelle: He’s smart and sadistic. What more could a woman ask for?

The referee informs Psycho that Axl is allotted a brief rest period between falls, pushing him back into a corner. He then returns to Evermore’s side, actually pleading with the Cartel Champion to just stay down, informing him that he’ll get his rematch.

Axl isn’t interested in rematches, he wants a victory, and he wants it tonight come hell or high water. He props himself up on his elbow, grabbing the ref’s shirt instinctively and trying to use him as a crutch. Although Axl’s eyes are as milky as a bowl of corn flakes he starts to stand up.

When one foot plants to the canvas Psycho deems that Evermore has had enough of a breather. He steps in, throwing the official aside, engulfs Evermore’s throat with both hands, hoists him up into the air and delivers a second Gonzo Bomb. This one seems to connect with even more force than the last, leaving Evermore no more than a stain on the canvas.

Mark: Ahhh, ANOTHER double hand choke bomb from Psycho. Mercifully this seems to be over.

Michelle: Mercy, MERCY!?! That word isn’t even in my vocabulary.

This time Psycho leans forward, palms wedged to Axl’s chest to hold him down for the final, definitive three count.

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2

Each slap of the canvas sounds like an ever so sweet symphony to Psycho, before the string on a violin snaps, throwing the melody into disorder. Axl’s shoulder has launched from the canvas, kicking out a mere fraction of a second before the referee’s hand could meet the ring for a third time.

Mark: And once again Axl shocking everyone. This guy can take a greater beating than Sharon Stone’s vagina.

Instead of flying off the handle, Psycho once again has an unexpected reaction. He doesn’t loose his cool, realizing that such a response would be to his detriment. He keeps his emotions under control as he guides the Cartel Champion to his seat, slips around behind him, and hooks one arm.

The expression on his face is chilling enough to terrify even the bravest soul. The look he shoots towards the crowd makes all the male fans tuck their tails between their legs and cower in their seats. They realize what Psycho has in store, a move that busted open Axl’s head and shortened his career. The very move that has left the Champion laying face down in a puddle of blood for two weeks in a row. The move that will effectively quell any fight remaining in Axl’s already broken body.

Mark: No, this isn’t called for Psycho. There’s no need for this.

Michelle: This is going to be so much fun. I wish I brought popcorn.

Psycho’s elbow raises into the air before being drawn to Evermore’s temple. It’s almost as if Psycho’s elbow is made of steel and Axl’s head is a magnet, because it can’t stay away from his cranium. The Cartel Champion tries to hang in there as another elbow nails him to the side of the face, followed by another.

Mark: Psycho employing those elbows, the very ones that knocked Axl out last week.

Another elbow hits, then another, and another, and another. They begin to land with more frequency now, more emphasis, more impact. Axl’s head bobs back and forth as if it were a floater on the surface of water.

Comeau: Stop this Psycho, stop this before you kill the man!

Michelle: Sure, you always want to end things before it gets to the good part.

The crowd cringes, some of them turning away in horror as the elbows threaten to fracture every bone in Axl’s face. They at least prove as effective as they are painful to watch. Evermore is slowly drifting, his mind escaping into a pleasant dementia.

There’s a bright light that draws Axl in, that fills him with warmth. Psycho sneers, feeling the fight flowing from Axl’s body like the blood dripping from the gash in the back of his head. It’s almost a tantalizing feeling for Psycho, to know that he holds Evermore’s life in his hands, and he’s about to crush in his palms, or more accurately, with his elbow.

Mark: Do something ref, do something NOW!

Just as Evermore’s soul begins to separate from body it turns back and realizes that it can’t end this way. Axl’s fists squeeze together, and he begins to rally. The audience turns from silent spectators into rabble rousers. They cut loose with impassioned screams of Evermore’s name. The chant shakes the Hard Rock Café, and once again gets Axl’s heart racing.

Psycho acts as if he were just castrated by a ghost, his face flushing white and his eyes opening so wide they could be mistaken for the sun. He doesn’t believe, the fans don’t believe, the commentators don’t believe it, perhaps Evermore doesn’t even believe it, but he’s rising to his feet.

The elbows connect quicker and more deadly velocity than before but Evermore is still rising, still struggling like a man pushing a car off a trapped victim. He gets that one last burst, that inspiring adrenaline that puts him on his feet and trying to escape the elbows.

Psycho doesn’t let him have his moment, he breaks his own hold and delivers a forearm to Axl’s upper back, doubling him right back over.

Mark: Well it looked like Axl was putting something together by Psycho puts everything back in disarray.

Michelle: The way it should be.

Psycho reaches out, grabs the arms of his broken rival and wraps them about his throat, Psychotic Episode looming like a tragic end to a horror movie.

Psycho: Remember this day….

He orders the fans to pay him their undivided attention, but their eyes were already captivated by the spectacle occurring in the ring.

Psycho: Remember this as the day that Axl went from a hero to a martyr!

Psycho’s perverse eulogy is delivered just before he hoists Evermore into the air and prepares to put him in his death nail. Psycho is all but too ready to celebrate with his Cartel Title when Evermore spins his body in mid-air. He twists around just as Psycho gets him upright and ends up landing on his feet directly in front of the potential champion.

Psycho is only momentarily dazed by this most unexpected of twist, a twist that in his mind would put M. Night Shamalyan to shame. He rushes towards Axl who shoots a boot into the air, going for an instinctive super kick.

Psycho catches it before it could connect with his jaw however, then pushes down on the leg, sending Evermore into a full spin. He doesn’t give Axl time to turn around and face him, charging forward to put the final nail in his coffin.

Psycho’s over eagerness proves fatal, for he charges right into a drop toe hold, planting him face first into the canvas. Evermore leaps over his back, lands on his upper spine and begins to deliver the deadly MMA elbows to the temple of his stunned opponent.

Comeau: Now Axl UNLEASHING with the Orlando-esque elbows!

Michelle: How exciting, even by my definition of the word “exciting.” Usually I need electroshock to reach this type of ecstasy.

The Sadistic One’s words become gargled as elbow after elbow lands flush against the side of his head. He seems to be loosing consciousness and doing so fast. Evermore is unleashing everything on Psycho, all his pint up rage, all his emotion, all his retribution, bringing Psycho to the point of having an out of body experience.

Mark: Now the referee may have to stop this match to keep Evermore from killing Psycho.

Blacker: Again, that would be spoiling the ending.

The referee debates stepping in and prying Evermore off of Psycho for the well being of both men, but realizes that Axl may even more dangerous than the Sadistic One. Despite overwhelming pain shooting all throughout Psycho’s body, radiating outward from his temple, he tries crawling towards the ropes.

The elbows at this point have given Psycho a black eye which is quickly swelling. Even as the tissue begins to swallow Psycho’s pupil he continues crawling. The fans find themselves so emotionally invested that they almost jump over the barricade to prevent Psycho from grabbing the ropes, but they remain on their feet and thankfully behind the wall of security.

They are unable to determine who’s roar is louder, and which one is more intense, victim’s or victimizer’s. It isn’t until Psycho’s hand wraps around the middle rope than his screaming stops and his body falls limp across the canvas.

Mark: I don’t get how it was possible but Psycho has grabbed those ropes and survived some of the most brutal elbows strikes I’ve ever witnessed. There was just so much emotion behind those elbows.

Michelle: Emotion? You sound like a prepubescent little girl.

Evermore doesn’t know what is going on, he just keeps landing the elbows until the official finally has to drag him off. It appears that Axl is lost, his brain no more than slime in his skull as he’s dragged to the center of the ring by the referee. Once there Evermore falls to his knees, wavering back and forth, not even the slightest semblance of emotion depicted on his face.

The referee checks on Psycho’s condition, now pleading with him to throw in the towel. That’s the last thing on Psycho’s mind, in fact, there doesn’t appear to be ANYTHING on Psycho’s mind at all. He looks just as cloudy as Evermore, pulling himself up on the ropes on sheer instinct alone.

Comeau: This has to be one of the most amazing matches I’ve ever witnessed, the heart displayed by both of these men has been legendary.

The Sadistic One reaches his feet, falling over the ropes almost as his body becomes dead weight. Evermore now slips up behind him, grabbing the belt of his pants and pulling him down out of the cables into a school boy.

The ref eagerly slaps the ring.

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Psycho launches a shoulder from the canvas, kicking out to screams from the fans. The crowd doesn’t know if they want to see this match continue after everything the two men in the ring have subjected each other to. Psycho rolls over to his feet, standing up and beginning to build some energy.

He blindly staggers forward into a boot to the ribs though, Evermore taking him around the neck and not even realizing that he’s setting up for his own Fully Loaded stunner.

Just before he can connect Psycho turns his back to Axl’s and pulls him over into the backslide pin.

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Axl launches a shoulder from the canvas, kicking out with just seconds to spare. Like Psycho he rolls back and drops over to his knees. All the while Psycho, who seems to be getting his second wind, charges backwards into the ropes, bouncing off and coming back in at one of his greatest rivals.

Evermore lunges to his feet then into the air, going to counter his momentum into a hurricarana. Psycho plants his feet, catches Axl on his shoulder and powerbombs him down with great velocity into the canvas. The crowd screams as Axl’s body is folded up on the canvas, Psycho leaning down into the back of his thighs for the pinfall.

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Evermore kicks out again, dropping over to his seat and roaring like a lion fending off anyone who dare trifle with its meal.

Psycho’s eyes widen as he hears this blood curdling battle-cry from Evermore. He finds himself even more stunned though, when he watches Axl rising to his feet, overcoming the sheer magnitude of the powerbomb to catch Psycho unaware with a kick to the gut and deliver the stunner.

Comeau: AMAZING! Evermore overcame the powerbomb and with all his remaining energy delivered the stunner on a, no pun intended, STUNNED Psycho.

Michelle: I’m not easily entertained by things that not hanging from hooks, but this has been quite enthralling.

Psycho lays on the canvas just behind a seated Evermore. The full extent of his injuries are catching up with him, leaving him mentally impaired, unaware of his own location, let alone that he could very well have the victory over Psycho.

Finally he drops back, spine pressed to Psycho’s sternum.

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Now it’s Psycho who kicks out, and not only does he kick out, but he sits up shaking his head back and forth. His hair flies in all directions, looking as crazed as a man over medicated.

Mark: GOOD LORD, now Psycho kicking out of the stunner. Where these two men are getting this from is just beyond my comprehension.

Axl’s face goes as red as the ripest tomato. Without even thinking he stands up, grabs Psycho by the hair, and pulls him to his feet just long enough to deliver a kick to the diaphragm. Psycho is doubled over as Evermore wraps his arm around the neck, setting for perhaps the only move he can remember in his arsenal.

This time before Psycho can taste the bittersweet flavor of Evermore’s shoulder, he shoves Axl off, sending him charging into the cables. Axl bounces from the ropes and comes back in at Psycho who lunges into the air in the nick of time to connect with a flying knee strike right on point to the Champion’s forehead.

Comeau: Flying knee strike NAILS Evermore and twists him inside out! The perseverance of both these men is simply put, amazing.

Michelle: Would it have killed you to use a darker adjective?

Axl finds himself spread across chest and stomach, fighting to hang onto those last threads of consciousness. Psycho isn’t going to make it easy, stepping in, wrapping his arm around Axl’s head, plucking him from the canvas to his seat then sitting him on the top rope of the nearest turnbuckle.

If regular moves won’t put Axl down then Psycho’s determined to deliver something from a slightly higher elevation. He starts up the turnbuckle, hoping that getting some height on his next move will add enough emphasis to finally put an end to one of the most physically intense bouts of his career.

Once positioned Evermore is prepared for the ultimate sacrifice, his arms being wrapped about his neck as Psycho prepares for a fatal version of the Psychotic Episode. Now that he’s exhausted his repertoire and his plans have been thwarted, it comes down to this, his finishing move from the top rope effectively finish Evermore.

Mark: And now it seems we come to the denouement, Psycho ready to connect with his finishing move and complete his pursuit of the Cartel Championship.

Psycho takes a deep breath, his whole body shaking from the pain of oxygen filling his lungs. He savors this moment as best his body will allow before finally starting to fall back into a move that will reunite him with the Cartel Championship. That is until Axl grabs the top rope with his free hand and wraps his legs about the cables as well.

Psycho’s face flushes with rage, all peace and serenity evaporated by Axl’s persistence. He once again tries to take him over but Axl is STILL hanging on with every last shred of strength that remains in his body.

Mark: Both men fighting for different results, Axl for self preservation at this point, and Psycho for that Cartel Title. Which man’s will is going to outlast the other?

An elbow to the side of Psycho’s head begins to answer Mark’s question. Another elbow, this time not of the MMA variety, has Psycho wobbling on the turnbuckle. He’s desperate to remain clear headed, but that becomes next to near impossible when Evermore spins around on the top rope, taking his seat on the turnbuckle and delivering a sickening slap.

Spit and sweat flies from Psycho’s head as his arms are now hooked and Axl cuts loose with yet another loud battlecry. He hoists Psycho into the air, dropping from the turnbuckle and connecting with the original version of the Flipside, a double underhook BRAINBUSTER!

Mark: Brainbuster from the top, brainbuster from the very top rope! DEAR JESUS!

Michelle: Yeah, religion, that’s where most men go when I start in with the shock pads.

All those fans packed in the Hard Rock Café are nearly in a full scale riot as Psycho’s head hits the canvas and his body flops to its back. He lays across the canvas almost comatose as the brittle body of Evermore limps into the cover, about to end one of the most grueling matches he’s ever been forced to compete in.

As the ref’s hand slaps the canvas the crowd watches from the edges of their seats.

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3!

Axl has retained his Cartel Championship, after all the hardships, the beat-down….wait a minute, forget that hyped up jazz, because Psycho has launched a shoulder clear from the ring.

Mark: Un-FRIGGIN-believable!

Nobody in the packed building can understand how, HOW, Psycho was just able to kick out after Axl mustered the strength to him with the Brainbuster DDT from the top rope. At this point they begin to question if Psycho is even human.

Comeau: Is there nothing, NOTHING, that will end Psycho’s pursuit of the Cartel Title?

Moore: I could always back over him with my mini-van.

Axl attempts to put the fans’ ambiguity over Psycho’s species to rest, climbing over his back and beginning to rain down with the MMA elbows to the big man’s busted skull.

Mark: Now Evermore with his own elbows again!

Elbow after elbow continues connecting to Psycho’s skull, Evermore determined to knock his ass OUT! Psycho is still hanging in there though, fighting through this crippling onslaught from a vindictive, abnormally vicious Evermore.

Mark: Elbows connecting one after another to the already damaged skull of the challenger, is Evermore finally going to knock him out? Is he going to retain his championship over perhaps his greatest challenge yet.

Blacker: I don’t know, nor do I care. I’m just sitting back and enjoying the scenery.

The elbows connect perfectly, right on target against the temple. Just one of them would be enough to render a normal man unconscious, but the Sadistic One is anything but human. He demonstrates as much by actually starting to will himself up to his feet.

He gets both feet planted to the canvas with Evermore wrapping his legs around the big man’s waist and hanging from his back yet still unloading with elbow after elbow.

Mark: Psycho standing up and trying to get out of this but Evermore hanging on and STILL delivering the MMA elbows. My God, the resolve of both of these men is just amazing.

Michelle: Give me twenty minutes alone in a dimly lit room with either one of them, then I can really test their resolve.

The elbows are delivered with such ferocity and frequency that Psycho is forced down to a knee. Axl is wrapped all around him, his body weight, in combination with the elbows, too much for the Sadistic One to tolerate. After being dumped on his head with the modified brainbuster from the top rope, every little shot to the cranium is intensified.

As his brain begins to swell and his eyes start to roll to the back of his head, Psycho unleashes a guttural roar and rises once again to his feet. He now charges backwards across the ring and drives Evermore’s body into a nearby turnbuckle.

The force of the collision, Axl’s body sandwiched between bulk and corner, causes him to break up the maneuver and fall lifelessly into the turnbuckle.

Mark: How…..how did….I can’t even begin to understand how Psycho just ESCAPED those elbows a second time.

Psycho drops to a knee in the center of the ring before shaking off all the blows he’s withstood to his head. He rises back to his feet, almost tipping over a few times, the wear and tear of this intense confrontation taking a lot out of his battered body.

Axl finds himself equally as drained, every inch of him aching from all it’s withstood in this contest thus far. But that’s exactly what both men have done, withstood, they’ve tolerated each strike, each blow thrown at them, and somehow they keep on going.

Psycho balances himself and now charges at Evermore, bending forward to spear him to the ribs. Axl climbs to the middle rope though and leaps over the inbound Psycho, landing on his feet right behind him. The Sadistic One quickly spins around and grabs his opponents by the arms, trying to force them around his neck and deliver the Psychotic Episode.

Axl drops however, sliding down Psycho’s ribs and falling to his spine while reaching up with his legs. He wraps them under the Sadistic One’s armpits and pulls him to the canvas with a forward roll. As Evermore sits on Psycho’s chest and holds down on the back of the knees, the crowd’s hearts are fluttering, their feet stomping the concrete and hands slapping the barricades in anticipation of the pin.

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Psycho not only kicks out, but rolls backwards, ending up seated on top of Evermore’s chest with his shoulders pressed to the canvas. He holds down on the back of both legs, realizing that with all his weight on top of Axl, it should render him incapable of kicking out.

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Somehow Axl is able to nudge Psycho off of him just enough to get a shoulder free from the canvas. The crowd is about to faint due to lack of oxygen, still screaming at the top of their lungs over that last series of nearfalls.

Mark: Axl and Psycho still going back and forth in what has been perhaps the greatest Cartel Title match in IWC history.

Michelle: It could use a few more weapon shots. I brought a whip with me and a few other goodies if either man is interested…..just saying.

Although their bodies may be racked with pain and at this point they’re operating on sheer fumes, these two worn out competitors ascend to their feet. Once upright Evermore goes a boot to the ribs only to have his ankle caught and for his foot to be swung around so that his spine is facing Psycho.

Once again the Sadistic One applies a cobra clutch, desperate to deliver a move he knows will finish Axl off for good. It’s at this point that Evermore throws his own well being aside, dropping to his seat and pulling Psycho down into a jawbreaker to the top of the champion’s head.

The blow has Psycho staggered and has once again spared Evermore from the Psychotic Episode, but at the cost of further damage to his already aching head.

Comeau: Evermore continuing to avoid Psycho’s most lethal maneuver. How much longer can either man keep this up?

The incoherent Psycho falls into a nearby turnbuckle, his back wedged to the corner for support as his eyes roll to the back of his head.

Mark: Look at Psycho’s eyes, he’s out of it, he’s gone.

Blacker: Battery cables hooked to his Johnson should snap him right out of it, and just his luck, I happened to bring jumper cables with me.

Comeau: You’re a regular MacGuyver, Michelle. Well, if MacGuyver believed in cutting himself to unleash his inner demons and wore a shit load of mascara.

The Las Vegas faithful are solidly aligned behind Evermore at this point, swept up by his courageous effort. Even as blood still dribbles from the wound in the back of his head, Axl rises to his feet, turns towards his barely conscious opponent and comes charging in.

In a move than can only be described as desperate, Psycho reaches out, grabs the official by the collar of his shirt and pulls him in between himself and Evermore. Axl stops just short of crashing into the official, leading to an incredibly convoluted ref bump, and a possible disqualification.

Comeau: Now come on! Psycho using the ref as a shield, hasn’t he already bent the rules enough in this match?

Axl grabs the referee by his jersey and physically tosses him out of the way so that nothing can stand between himself and the challenger. However, there remains one final obstacle, Psycho’s boot as it drills Axl directly in his baby maker.

Mark: NO! A kick right to the groin!

Blacker: Mmmm, that’s my idea of foreplay.

Evermore’s mouth hangs open as he stoops over his damaged crotch, a position that leaves him exposed to unspeakable horrors. The official turns stabilizes himself and turns just in time to spot Psycho throwing Evermore by the back of the head through the ropes and face first right into the exposed steel turnbuckle post.

The sound of Axl’s head cracking against steel echoes throughout the arena and causes many of the fans to cover their eyes in terror. They have even more cause to be horrified when Psycho grabs Axl by the back of his pants and drags him over into a school boy.

Comeau: Not this way, NOT THIS WAY!

The referee drops down and makes the count, having no idea that Psycho delivered the low blow to achieve victory. Psycho is already picturing himself celebrating with the title, holding it high above his head, cradling the belt in his hands, finding himself mesmerized by the tantalizing feeling of gold pressed to shoulder. All it takes for that dream to become a reality is just three simple slaps of the canvas.

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3!

All of Psycho’s dreams have finally formed into reality, his title quest ending at Upping the Ante the best way possible……well, scratch that. The dream remains just that, a dream, because Evermore kicked out just as the referee’s hand was mere centimeters removed from the canvas.

Mark: WOOOOOOWW! This is almost too shocking to be true.

Blacker: I’m not easily shocked, but even that kick out has got me feeling a little tingly.

The Vegas crowd, use to glitz, glamour and extravagant shows, have never witnessed anything like this before. Their voices are almost horse as they react to this stunning kick out. Psycho sits up on the canvas face going as white as a sheet in a blizzard.

Comeau: That’s right Psycho, even after your blatant cheating Evermore kicked out. I don’t know how he did it, but he did.

Evermore’s earth shattering kick out seemed to have been generated on mere instinct, because it’s obvious that there are no synapses firing, or brain-cells working in his head. He falls over to his elbows and knees, eyes as wide as saucers, pupils dilated, finding it painful to even blink.

In a fit Psycho grabs Evermore around the throat, forces him up to his feet, wraps his arms around his neck and drops back into the Psychotic Episode.

Mark: Now the Psychotic Episode connects. Kick out Evermore, just kick out one last time.

Psycho bridges back into the pin as the referee’s hand slaps the canvas. The crowd is pleading with Evermore, begging him to find the strength to kick out one last time, to continue hanging in there for the sake of his championship.

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The pleas fall on deaf ears, Axl far too subdued to hear them, and his body too fatigued to respond. The fans almost have trouble believing that it’s over, that Evermore was incapable of kicking out one last time after the heroic effort he put into retaining his title. But after a combination of a low blow, a face first collision with the turnbuckle post and finally the Psychotic Episode, it all prove too much for Evermore.

Mark: And it’s over…..it’s finally come to an end. Psycho has just won the Cartel Title.

Michelle: Good, it’s nice to know that people as freaky as me can still be successful.

Psycho barely has the strength to sit up, let alone celebrate perhaps the biggest win in his IWC career. As the Cartel Title is handed to him, Psycho employs every ounce of strength to raise it into the air.

Comeau: After one of the most amazing matches I can ever remember calling, Psycho celebrates with the Cartel Title. He employed every cheat, every underhanded tactic to walk away with the belt but his strategy proved effective here tonight, beating Axl two falls to one.

The Sadistic One cradles the Cartel Championship to the side of his face, realizing that all the attacks on Evermore over the past month have finally proven effective. After weeks upon weeks of brutal, savage assaults, and all the illegal blows to the head, Evermore would have to be superhuman to have walked away with the title tonight. If it hadn’t been for said attacks and all the tricks Psycho employed, the story may have been very different. But alas, in Las Vegas, Psycho has finally achieved his dream.

Mark: An amazing, absolutely THRILLING Cartel Title bout that just raised the bar significantly.

Blacker: Meh, I could give it or take it.

Comeau: Shame on you. These two men just left everything in the ring and have not only elevated their own standing, but the prestige of that Cartel Title as well…..and ummmm….as much as I hate to do this…..

The camera turns away from the war torn gladiators in the ring to the commentator behind his table. Mark is wedging his ear-mic deeper into his head, trying to hear the frantic voice contacting him.

Mark: From what I’m being told, Billy Mayne has caught up with number one contender Pat Evans in his locker-room. I guess we will be getting that interview with the man slated to face Kingdom for the title in mere moments.

Blacker: He had better be asphyxiating himself with something or I’m taking a nap.

WHY BOTHER?

The man who signed his name on the dotted line, and by virtue signed his soul away, comes into view. He sits stoically, hunched forward, hands interlocked, eyes distant and vacant of much emotion. In stark contrast to the perhaps too eager Billy Mayne, planted on a stool just inches away, overzealous in his attempt to get some answers.

Billy: Wow, how I miss this sweet, sweet feeling of out scooping you, Mark Comeau. Hahahaha. God, I almost feel good enough to regain function in my penis.

Evans stirs uncomfortably, showing the first signs of emotion since his face appeared on camera.

Mayne: Although I’d love to sit here and talk about my junk, I’ve actually even written a book about it…..

Evans: I hope it’s not a pop up book.

The thought had never crossed Billy’s mind, but now that it has he jots down the idea on a piece of paper.

Billy: A lot of hoopla and gobbly-gook has been made about you signing the contract and accepting this World Title match against Johnny Kingdom. Apparently people are questioning your ethics, asking why you agreed to work with Savior again, why you sold your stole to the quote un quote “devil,” and whether the two of you have some type of scheme to rob Kingdom of the World Heavyweight Title. Me, on the other hand, well the only thing I’m wondering about, is why it took you so freaking long to sign the contract in the first place?

A blank, yet bone rattling stare is given in response to Billy’s questions.

Mayne: Scruples or no scruples, you don’t turn down a guaranteed shot at the title, and the last thing you want to do is keep a man like Christian Savior waiting. So what was the deal? Why the hold-out? Why the hesitation? Why toy with my emotions?

Sadly the last thing Evans seems interested in doing is offering up an explanation for any of his actions, controversial or not.

Billy: Come on, Pat. You let me in the room, now let me into your head.

Christian Savior: Only because you picked the damn lock.

The former World Champion storms towards Billy waving a lock-pick in the air. Rose, briefcase in hand, and an older gentlemen in a three piece suit fidgeting with the glasses on the tip of his nose, follow right behind Savior. Pat doesn’t even raise his head to acknowledge his presence.

Christian: Don’t bother with anymore questions, Billy, because Evans is focused not on explanations, but on that World Title match in just a few minutes. And come to think of it, that gives us little time to discuss business. All you need to know is that Christian is going to create A STAR tonight.

The microphone is snatched out of Billy’s sweaty palm and tossed out the door.

Savior: FETCH!

Rose grabs Billy by the collar of his jacket and pulls him off of his stool.

Mayne: Watch it, your stretching out my shirt.

The freakishly strong Rose tosses Billy out the door while Savior pie faces the lens of the camera, alsho shoving it out of the dressing room. The door is slammed shut directly in front of the camera. The last bit of footage it catches through a crack in the door is Savior opening up the briefcase as he takes a seat in front of Evans.

THE ART OF BOOKING

Music of a classical, almost regal distinction plays soothingly in the background while cartoonish images flash dazzlingly across the screen. Johnny Kingdom’s face is superimposed on an animated body, his computer rendered muscles given far more definition, looking like Popeye’s arms after devouring a can of spinach. A graduation cap keeps covering then flying off of Johnny’s comically sparkly head. The background is that of a bright green chalk board, words now appearing across it just off to the animated Kingdom’s side.

Welcome to the Art of Booking:
With World Champion host Johnny Kingdom

The cartoony effects are gone, replaced with the authentic Johnny Kingdom. The bearer of World Title gold sits in a chamber crudely made up to resemble a classroom. He is in the process of reading a National Geographic article before he looks up, eyes staring through lens-less glasses and noticing the camera.

Kingdom: Hello and welcome to the Art of Booking. For those who can’t read, or just like to hear someone repeat themselves, I’m your host Johnny Kingdom.

He smiles and smiles wide at that. The second his super pearly whites consume the screen, a digitally rendered sparkle appears on one of his bicuspids.

Johnny: This instructional video will help you, the fans, steer clear of the numerous booking snafus, errors, and outright idiocy inherit in the IWC’s “planning.” Notice my ambiguity over the word “planning,” because I can’t imagine much thought actually goes into these shows. Which is all the more reason for me to do these videos, instructing you, the fans in the art of PROPERLY maintaining interest in a wrestling company. Although, I suppose virtually none of you will ever become the head bookers of a legitimate sports franchise. Oh well, I guess I can overlook that fact, just like everyone seems to have overlooked the legality of Evans’ title shot. I guess that brings us to the core of lesson one…..

The cartoon chalk board overtakes the screen yet again, words being written across them as Johnny spells them out verbally for the seeing impaired, or those just too ignorant to read.

Kingdom: Keeping your World Champion happy.

The crudely drawn picture, looking as if it had been hastily thrown together in MS paint, vanishes and Kingdom’s face returns to the screen.

Johnny: You know that your federation is going under if your World Champion looses his smile….

Kingdom frowns like Red Skelton portraying a sad clown.

Kingdom: So, you’ve got to keep him grinning, and keep on giving him a reason to live. Sadly, the here today gone tomorrow cast of characters running the IWC just don’t seem to understand that. Instead of catering to my whims, I’m punished with questionable booking decision after questionable booking decision. Frankly, it’s made me one sad camper.

Again he frowns in an ever so exaggerated fashion.

Johnny: So lets examine the five basic ways to keep a smile on my face….or….ummm….ANY Champion’s face.

Once again the poorly animated chalk board becomes the focal point.

Kingdom: Number ONE: NEVER give your World Champion a dressing room right beside Simon Cagero’s.

These words of wisdom are written across the board.

Kingdom: Frankly the smell is a nightmare, and there’s all that noise pollution otherwise known as Simon’s voice.

The checklist continues.

Johnny: Number TWO: NEVER allow your champion to be injured.

Johnny face briefly comes into view with all it’s sparkly goodness.

Kingdom: This extends to working him like a pack mule, or running incompetent investigations. Investigations which allow “unknown” parties to continually attack your champion with no repercussions.

Again the crowd is forced to bare witness to the MS paint abomination.

Johnny: Number THREE: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas….

Cuts back to Kingdom’s flashy teeth.

Kingdom: Sadly, I won’t get to learn the meaning behind that phrase, because instead of being able to hit the town, do some gambling, see some horrid Elvis Priestly impersonations, I’m forced to work. That’s almost INHUMAN. And to make matters worse my work tonight isn’t even fruitful nor entertaining, I’m subjected to a match with Pat Evans, PAT EVANS! You should never force your champion to compete in a match so trivial when you’re in a city full of things that Evans isn’t, FUN. At the very least they could have dressed Evans up in an Elvis Priestly suit, or put me up against Wayne Newton.

Back to the chalk board.

Johnny: Number FIVE: Try to find your champion a credible opponent

Now Kingdom’s head is shaking, loosing his smile, which breaks the cardinal rule.

Kingdom: Nobody likes to be spoon-fed, it just gets BORING. Sooner or later you got to find you’re champ a challenge, otherwise they grow lethargic, and they start questioning whether there’s a point to them even defending the title. Competition raises and elevates your champion’s game, it gets them to STEP UP. It renews their spirit. It motivates them. The last thing you want to do is give a title shot to somebody on the basis that their a hard worker…..that’s just sickening….You give title shots to people with TALENT, not people who have stuck around the longest. Just because somebody’s been around since the birth of Christ, it doesn’t mean their anymore talented, or deserving of a World Title than someone who just stepped through the door but shows REMARKABLE skill. Of course, the IWC doesn’t have either of those choices to fall back on….

Johnny rubs at the skin between his eyes, suffering a migraine at the thought of facing Pat Evans.

Johnny: What your about to see here tonight is a textbook example of how not to treat your champion or book a match. Sure, technically, Orlando, or whoever he’s hired to book matches, didn’t put this contest together, but they’ve allowed it to happen, which is even worse. Actually, it makes them look even more incompetent than if they had booked it. And don’t ask me how Christian has this omnipotent, Dan Douglas-esque power and a contract filled with infinite loopholes that he can conveniently exploit whenever the mood strikes him. But I digress…..

He takes a deep breathe in an attempt to calm himself. He now pictures Jennifer Love Hewitt in a two piece bikini to calm himself.

Kingdom: People like Pat Evans, people who have zero momentum, zero charisma, and zero talent shouldn’t be shoved down our throats. Who’s gonna be interested in a match that came about just because a guy is able to sign his name instead of being able to beat the cream of the crop to EARN a title bout? The answer is NOBODY. Just because a guy has got good penmanship skills and knows where to scribble his John Hancock, he shouldn’t be allowed to fight for the most prestigious belt in the company, especially when he’s loosing to Simon Cagero left and right. I literally had to sit in my dressing room for forty minutes last week, listening through the wall as Simon lamented ENDLESSLY about that victory, I think it even gave him an orgasm or ripped his hymen or something. You should have heard the moans of pleasure.

The thought gives him chills.

Kingdom: Nobody should be subjected to that, or the convoluted booking that has led to this World Title match. But I guess in retrospect nobody else is ready to challenge for the belt, given the poor “planning” that the IWC has done in building legitimate, credible challengers. So might as well as be Evans. At least it’s not Robin Brooks again, YEESH! I think at this point their just throwing shit at the wall and seeing what sticks. Fortunately, I seem to be made of Teflon.

He catches a peak at the clock on the wall, getting anxious.

Johnny: Woops, seems we’re running a bit too long. Apparently I need to be getting to the ring for my World Title match. Although I’m sure I can just use the power of my mind to defeat Evans even while still sitting in my dressing room. But alas I’m equally as sure there are some of you who actually paid to watch this match, I guess just to get some cheap thrills out of seeing me squash another competitor. Yeah, another booking tip, squash matches on a pay-per-view, those tend to be a big “no, no.” But given the caliber of opponents I’ve been subjected to the past few months, I guess the IWC still hasn’t learned that lesson. Hopefully you can, by watching the example I make out of Evans in just a few moments.

Johnny becomes a bit more serious with the little time he has left.

Kingdom: And that’s all you are, Evans, an example, a seat filler. You may be able to write your name on a contract but you can’t defeat me. Especially when THIS…..

The World Title belt is raised into the air.

Johnny:….is on the line. You see, I may be as apathetic as a certain AWOL, but I won’t be quite so laid back when that bell rings and I make quick work of you. I’m going to demonstrate to all potential challengers, and to the future bookers of the world, that it takes a little more preparation than signing your name to give me competition. Plus, if I beat you quickly, I can still hit the twenty four hour strip clubs. AHHHH, I do love Vegas. That concludes our first edition of The Art of Booking. But don’t touch that dial, because I’m about to spice up my lesson plan with some visual aids.

The camera zooms in on his plotting, smiling face, the crowd now thoroughly amped up for his pending World Title bout against Evans.

JOHNNY KINGDOM © VS. PAT EVANS

The show returns to the ringside area where the crowd is both chuckling over that previous segment and still wheezing after that previous match.

Mark: Johnny Kingdom with some always fascinating insight. I just hope Pat Evans didn’t catch wind of any of that, which chances are he didn’t considering that Christian has his ear backstage.

Blacker: It be hotter if he really did have his ear, like severed it from Evans’ face and everything. I find men who cut off their own body parts and present them to you as presents to be incredibly sexy. It’s why I’m such a Van Gogh fan.

Just as the crowd becomes a little more subdued, finally being given the opportunity to catch their breathe, “OUTSIDER” filters through the sound system and sends them right back to their feet screaming. The reaction for Pat Evans, who now emerges to the stage, is not very flattering, but then again Evans has never exactly been on the good side of the audience and it’s never affected him before. Tonight his mind seems especially too preoccupied to give two shits what the fans think of him. The rather stoic number one contender proceeds towards the ring, displaying not even a trace of emotion.

Mark: Here comes Evans, who, let’s face it, got this title shot through some pretty unscrupulous means, but right now none of that matters, especially to Pat. This is his first one on one main event World Title match, and even if he doesn’t leave tonight with the title, chances are he’ll still show that he belongs on this elite playing field.

Michelle: I got on the playing field a few times, if you count smoking under the bleachers and listening to HIM as being on the field.

Comeau: Thankfully nobody does. But kidding aside, the issues between Evans and Kingdom have been as serious a heart attack. These two men have put each other through hell, yes, hell, try not to get too turned on Michelle by my choice of words. They’ve subjected one another to extreme forms of brutality over the past year, including Evans stringing Johnny up and beating him like a piñata, and let’s not forget what they did to each other in Steel Cage Elimination. This match is the textbook definition of “personal.”

Blacker: Hopefully we get to see them kick the violence into overdrive, otherwise I’ll just step out back for a smoke.

Evans steps through the ropes and spends literally no time at all pandering or so much as looking in the crowd’s direction. He moves to an unoccupied corner and leans his forehead against the top rope, perhaps giving himself some last minute words of wisdom, or preying to the Gods above that he should be fortunate enough to walk away champion tonight. It becomes difficult for him to hear the voice in his head when…

WAKE UP

….Absolutely rips through the speakers and sends the crowd into a reaction unlike anything Evans has heard before. The Las Vegas crowd is electrified at the sight of the charismatic Kingdom. As his feet crash down on the stage the reaction only gets louder, especially when he raises the World Title belt into the air. The gold dangles from his palm only for a second until it’s thrown over his shoulder and Johnny starts down the ramp.

Mark: Listen to this Vegas crowd. Obviously this is pro-Kingdom country. I can only wonder if this reception is getting into Evans’ head at all?

Michelle: He’s probably use to hearing a lot of voices in his head, Mark. At least, I am.

Comeau: Johnny may have talked down about this match backstage, but he certainly does look energized to unleash a beating now that he’s out here. Kingdom remembers every appalling action taken against him that Evans had a hand in while still part of the Conspiracy. And although that group now seems to have fallen apart after Steel Cage Elimination, Johnny looks to destroy the last remnants of it right here, right now.

The fans are now teeming with adrenaline as the World Heavyweight Championship is on the verge of being defended. Kingdom makes his way up the steps and to the apron with that cocksure waltz that only he is capable of pulling off to a T.

But his strut is cut short when Evans rushes across the ring and drills him to the side of the face with a forearm. The blow knocks the Team Leader from the apron and to the mats, where he lands directly on his feet, albeit stooped over.

Mark: Just like our previous title match this one starting off with a rather heated altercation.

Michelle: You call that heated? There isn’t even fire pokers, or red hot coals. Nothing fun at all.

Evans slips through the ropes at this point then lunges off, coming down with a double axehandle to Johnny’s upper back. Kingdom is taken to a knee with Evans standing over him, unloading with forearm after forearm to the spine.

Mark: Evans looked a little distant on his way to the ring, like his mind was preoccupied, but he’s unleashed a whole nother side of himself as soon as that bell rang.

Perhaps Pat is fueled by Kingdom’s comments before the match or something else, whatever the reason may be, he takes Johnny by the wrist and whips the champion shoulder first into the steel stairs.

The steps barely budge upon impact, Johnny’s body ricocheting off and colliding with the mats. He rolls across them gripping at what now be a severally bruised muscle in his shoulder. Evans throws aside his normal methodical gameplan, where he would strategically target the arm in favor of adapting to more of a brawling style.

He steps towards Johnny and peppers him to the face with jabs then takes him by the back of the head and rolls him in under the ropes.

Mark: Pat re-inserting Johnny into the ring, looking perhaps to capitalize on any injuries he may have just inflicted and capture the World Title as quickly as……

Before Mark can finish his sentence he’s rendered speechless by Johnny’s jaw shattering European Uppercut delivered on Evans who was half way in the ring. Pat now falls stomach first across the middle rope, eyes looking devoid of life or thought.

His head is all shaken up as Kingdom uses this precious time to recover from the opening onslaught this charge into the perpendicular ropes. He bounces off, comes back in at Evans and catches him around the head, nailing a swinging neckbreaker.

Mark: Ohhh, just when I had feared the worse Kingdom has a miraculous resurrection.

Blacker: Hmmm, doesn’t seem fair that I didn’t get to nail him to a cross first.

The back of Evans’ skull crashes from the canvas with a vicious thud, causing him to pop back up to his seat. He looks extremely dazed as Johnny rushes into the ropes in front of him, bounces off then flips forward into a seated blockbuster.

Once again the back of Pat’s head meets a foul fate once it collides with the canvas, Johnny rolling on top of him for the pin.

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Evans kicks out, his shoulder clearing from the canvas well before the three.

Mark: Kingdom continuing to capitalize on that neck snapping maneuver, he’s got Evans exactly where he wants him.

Michelle: I want Evans on my torture rack at home, stabbing him with needle after needle just so I can hear him squeal…Jesus…..I really do have a problem don’t I?

Comeau: I think “problemS” would be more accurate.

Although his skull may be fractured, Pat is still trying to get up. He rises to a knee only to suffer a quick yet brutal right hand to the forehead. Johnny, much like Evans, is fine with keeping this match nothing more than a brawl. Another closed right hand of the blatant variety drills Pat’s forehead, knocking him to his back.

Official Fitzpatrick desperately tries to maintain order, bashing Kingdom for the use of the closed fists. To the Team Leader, the ref’s demands are as relevant as an IWC promo. He continues connecting with the balled up fists, even if it is in violation to the wrestling code book, a book nobody has adhered to on this special evening.

Evans finds himself rolling across the canvas eventually reaching the ropes, leaving him nowhere else to go. He leans spine first from his knee against the cables while Johnny blasts him across the forehead this time with a well placed boot.

The sharp blow knocks Evans sideways through the cables, sending him twisting to the outside. He lands on the mats feet first, his back pressed to the apron still. Johnny steps up right behind him, grabs the top rope and then springs off of the middle one.

While still holding the top cable he swings his lower body, feet traveling through the ropes and connecting with Pat’s upper back. Evans is launched forward into the steel plated barricade, Pat slamming against it shoulder first.

Comeau: Johnny giving Evans no time to breath or recuperate.

Blacker: He must have got that tactic straight from the dominatrix handbook.

Johnny pulls his legs back into the ring and keeps holding the top rope. He now jumps over it, prepared for a big dive only to have Evans clear out of the way.

At the last second Johnny is forced to alter his move, instead of crashing to the outside mats with nothing to show for his troubles, he shifts in mid-air and lands gracefully on the apron. He now turns back towards Evans who lunges to the apron in front of him, then charges across it and delivers a sickening STO.

Johnny’s spine is compressed against the apron, driven into the hardest portion of the ring with the greatest of force. Evans drops to the mats, not even the slightest bit pleased by his highly destructive maneuver.

Comeau: STO on the apron! That move could have given Kingdom a stinger, or at the very least severe back trauma.

Blacker: For Johnny’s sake, let’s just hope he’s in some type of excruciating pain.

Kingdom looks as if he were just cracked over the back with a 2x4, his face a picture of shock and awe. His eyes are so wide they could burst from their sockets and his jaw is so slacked that it could unhinge itself from the rest of his face.

Somehow, purely on instinct alone perhaps, he starts to roll his lower body back into the ring, leaving his head and chest extended across the apron. This is perfect placement for Pat to move in for the kill. After checking on the condition of his neck, Evans steps towards Kingdom’s exposed head and delivers a swift boot directly to the temple.

The blow knocks Johnny into a roll, his face now staring down at the outside mats. Evans quickly moves in and jumps into the air, delivering a sickeningly stiff knee strike directly to Kingdom’s forehead. A grimace takes hold of each fans’ face as Johnny looks all but brain dead at this point.

Mark: Evans exploiting this window of opportunity, delivering some gruesome moves to the Champ’s exposed cabeza.

The slack jawed Kingdom continues to hang slightly over the apron, a position Evans once again exploits to his advantage. He steps in, takes Johnny around the neck, placing him in a front chancery then drops back, dragging him completely out of the ring into a modified vertical suplex that slams his already injured back into the mats.

The pain radiating from his spine is enough to send Kingdom shooting to his seat, crying out in anguish. The trauma shakes him from his near unconscious state, reminding him that he is indeed still alive.

Once again the crowd cringes, left to wonder what condition Kingdom’s back could be left in.

Blacker: Oh yes, that sound is so, so heavenly. Keep screaming Kingdom, keep screaming for Michelle.

Mark: A dangerous suplex onto the mats inflicting even greater damage to the Champion’s back.

The pain in his lower spine may be crippling, but Kingdom starts towards his feet out of desperation. He is just about to stand when Evans steps in and clobbers him across the jaw with a forearm. He then spins around and prepares to connect with a roaring back punch only to have Johnny dive forward and drive the top of his head into Pat’s ribcage.

Evans is doubled over, stepping back but promptly moving in to deliver the death nail once again. He’s stopped by another blow from Kingdom, this time a right hand directly into the ribs that doubles him over. This puts Pat into perfect position for an uppercut connecting to his already swollen jaw.

Pat staggers backwards, looking all shaken up as Johnny gets to his feet, feeding off raw adrenaline and comes charging in. Evans also gets a burst of energy though, prompting him to side step the inbound Kingdom, catch him under his arm and drop him back first into the mats with a side slam.

The sound of Kingdom’s body thudding against the mats reverberates throughout the building just like the pain reverberates throughout Johnny’s spine.

Comeau: Even while brawling there is a method to Evans’ madness. That back has become his focal point and every move he connects with comes a little closer to debilitating Kingdom.

Evans grabs Johnny around his gawking jaw, hoists him to his feet, wedges his spine to his ribs and charges him spine first into the apron. Kingdom’s back cracks against the ring with enough force to severe his spine, Johnny still standing out of shock.

Pat twists him around and rolls him into the ring, then slides in himself, ready to hear the glorious sound of his name being announced through the PA speaker as the new World Champion. Perhaps it’s this thought that causes him to loose his senses, because instead of going for a pin, he drags Johnny back to his feet.

A knife edge chop drills Kingdom’s sternum, sending him twisting towards a nearby turnbuckle then falling into. He leans against the corner for support as Evans grabs him by the wrist and whips him off across the ring with all the strength he has in his body.

Kingdom connects with the diagonal corner spine first with enough impact send him crashing down to the canvas. He grabs at his back which may be all but shattered at this point.

Comeau: I think Evans is showing Kingdom that he was wrong in his assessment of his talents. That he is no seat filler.

Michelle: I am loving this, human suffrage is just awesome.

Mark: For you maybe. I think it’s quite the different story for Kingdom.

Once again instead of going for a cover, Evans opts to dish out more punishment. He grabs Johnny around the jaw, guides him to his feet and takes his wrist. Evans employs all his strength to whip the Team Leader across the ring. This time Johnny isn’t about to have his back compressed against the corner, instead he reverses the whip.

Evans is shot into the turnbuckle with enough force to send him flipping up and over it. He twists over the top rope and lands feet first on the apron just long enough for Kingdom to spring off the perpendicular cables, twist in mid-air and dropkick him to the shoulder.

Pat is launched off the apron and sent crashing chest first into the railing of the barricade.

Mark: And right there, THAT’S what makes Johnny so dangerous, his explosive offense that can be generated from just about anywhere.

The kidneys and spine of the World Champion may be killing him but he’s still crawling across the ring, trying desperately to get some momentum going. He grabs the ropes, dragging himself up them and planting his feet on the canvas. Instead of being stupid and going for a dive that would only further complicate his injures, Kingdom instead reaches through the ropes for Evans’ hair.

Pat seemingly has eyes in the back of his head, prompting him to turn around, lunge to the apron and take him around the neck. Evans leans back, trying to pull Kingdom through the ropes and possibly connect with a skull shattering DDT, a maneuver that would permanently debilitate the champion.

Johnny grips the middle rope with both hands, planting his feet and desperately trying to keep from having what remains of his wrestling career cut short by Pat’s barbaric tactics. Johnny slides his hands together on the middle rope just under his chin then falls to his knees.

As Evans tries to maintain a grip on his head, Kingdom’s downward momentum thrusts Pat’s chin down into the top rope. His head snaps back and he looses control of the hold, causing him to collapse to the outside mats where he tries to keep himself upright.

Mark: Johnny just barely preventing having his career ended perhaps thanks to a DDT by this malicious challenger.

Blacker: Kingdom sure does like to spoil all the fun.

Kingdom’s back pops as he stands back up, getting upright just as Evans recovers, rushes at the ring and reaches under the cables, snatching hold of Johnny’s ankle. He lifts it up into the air, Kingdom collapsing onto his back then being rolled to his stomach.

Both Johnny and the crowd are roaring as the champion finds himself trapped in an ankle lock, Evans applying the hold from the outside of the ring.

The official starts a five count but clearly Evans isn’t intent on breaking the hold, almost willing to be disqualified if he can do further damage to the World Champion. Johnny realizes its up to him to save his battered body, he rolls to his back, wedges his feet to Pat’s sternum and pushes him off.

Evans scrambles backwards into the barrier, bashing against it forcefully back first.

Comeau: Kingdom freeing himself from the ankle lock in this very back and forth, frantic World Title bout.

Although he was only briefly held in the submission, Kingdom is already hobbling as he tries to reach his feet. He stands up and slips through the ropes just as Evans springs into action. Pat pushes through all his physical trauma by hopping to the apron and charging at Johnny for another STO.

This time Kingdom cuts him off with a boot to the ribs, doubling him over. Kingdom now hooks both of Evans’ arms and throws him up into the air, catching him only briefly on his shoulders before delivering a tiger bomb right on the edge of the apron.

The crowd absolutely erupts! They snap from their subdued states like Evans’ spine snaps in half.

Mark: You’ve got to be kidding me!

Michelle: NICE. Things are finally starting to get interesting.

Evans rolls around on the mats roaring like he were passing a twelve pound baby through his loins. Johnny on the other hand just leans against the apron, the very area of the ring that has inflicted so much damage on both combatants.

Comeau: A tiger bomb on the apron may have just broken Pat’s back, the very area of Kingdom’s body that he has been targeting throughout this encounter.

Johnny’s heart is pumping as he steps towards Evans, grabs him by the hair and forces him up to his feet. Pat can barely even stand as he’s rolled under the ropes into the ring, finding himself on the defensive for a change. Johnny steps through the ropes, moves towards Evans and drops an elbow straight to the small of his spine. He quickly rolls to his feet, bounces off of the cables and then lunges into the air, dropping knee first directly into the challenger’s kidneys.

Evans is so shocked by the pain that he can’t even interpret it vocally. All he can do is huff and wheeze as Johnny leads him to his feet then bends him back over his knee.

Comeau: This is an interesting hold, Kingdom putting Evans over his knee in a back breaker position, but instead he’s subjecting Pat to a submission maneuver.

Blacker: And this HURTS Evans? Come on. This is how I spent my Friday nights.

Evans’ face twists and contorts from the anguish flowing throughout his body. The color of his skin transforms to a very bright red shade, the veins pulsating in his temples, and his fingernails digging into his palms.

Johnny seemingly has him on the cusp of submitting, given the many complications arising from that Tiger Bomb straight across the apron. Somehow Evans is hanging in there though, fighting to remain conscious and to not give in. His entire body shakes as he tries to find a way out of this hold, now launching his knee up into the air and drilling Johnny to the temple.

He nails another knee to the side of the Team Leader’s face, inflicting further damage. Finally one last knee to the skull forces Johnny to break the hold, stand up and spin Evans around so that he can stuff his head into position for a piledriver. Before Evans has a chance to stop it, he’s hoisted into the air, and nailed with a package piledriver.

Comeau: Devastating piledriver just delivered from the Team Leader, and now he may be seconds from retaining the World Heavyweight Title.

The crowd can feel it, Johnny can feel it, even the fans at home can feel it, they realize that Kingdom is on the cusp of walking away still World Champion. He hooks both of Pat’s legs for the pinfall, hoping he’s done enough to get out of this grueling, physically intense contest.

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Evans launches a shoulder from the ring with mere fractions of a second remaining.

Mark: Pat refusing to be put down, to have his World Title ambitions quashed by the Team Leader.

Blacker: Good, the longer this goes on, the more trauma they’ll inflict on one another. I haven’t had this much fun since I watched that ten car pile up on the express way.

Johnny doesn’t loose focus of his game-plan, dragging Evans up to his feet and beginning to dish out forearm after forearm after forearm to his face. Somehow Pat is remaining upright just long enough for Johnny to rush backwards into the ropes, bounces off and twist around into the roaring elbow.

His forearm drills Evans to the skull with enough force to topple him to the canvas. Johnny makes one last revolution before dropping into the lateral press, forearm wedged to the chin for good measure.

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AGAIN Evans launches his shoulder from the ring, beginning to aggravate the Team Leader at this point.

Mark: Pat still hanging in there despite numerous blows to the head and that sickening maneuver on the apron.

An unnerved Team Leader stands over his opponent asking what he has left in his arsenal to put Pat down. Finally he grabs him by the wrist and by the ankle, beginning to drag him in the direction of the turnbuckle. He steps through the ropes and up the corner, the crowd waiting in anticipation of the 450 splash.

Their eager eyes, sweaty palms, and fluttering hearts eagerly anticipate one of Johnny’s many kill moves. He scales the corner gingerly, given the condition of his battle tested frame. After a slight struggle Kingdom reaches the ropes, but hadn’t counted on Pat’s remarkable recuperative abilities.

Evans reaches his feet and before he can even get his bearings, charges up the turnbuckle. He wraps his arms around Kingdom’s body and prepares to deliver a belly to belly suplex. Unfortunately for Evans, Kingdom wraps his legs around the ropes, keeping himself from being taken over.

He delivers a well timed headbunt, knocking Pat from the turnbuckle and putting him right back into position across the canvas.

Comeau: This is Johnny’s chance…..

Michelle: Tell me he’s going to bust out some razor blades.

Mark: Actually he’s going for the 450 splash.

Blacker: Awwww.

The Team Leader balances himself and takes flight, flipping through the air only to have Evans roll out of the way. Johnny alters his move at the last moment, crashing across his back so that he can effortlessly roll to his feet. The moment he reaches an upright base, Evans charges across the ring, hooks his arm from behind and prepares for the Spinal Tap.

The crowd collectively cries out, realizing that this move would destroy Kingdom’s already weakened back. They can barely force themselves to watch as Evans hoists Johnny into the air for the half nelson back breaker. Somehow, in a feat that can only be described as awing, Johnny actually flips backwards, up and over Pat’s arm, landing with remarkable agility behind his back.

Mark: What the hell!?! I never realized Kingdom was that agile.

Kingdom balances himself, equally as stunned by his counter as the fans, then charges at Evans with the roaring elbow. Evans drops down into a baseball slide between Kingdom’s legs though, and grabs hold of one in the process, lifting it up into the air.

Johnny collapses to the canvas with Evans standing up behind him, applying the ankle lock to cries from the crowd. Just as he gets the hold established, Kingdom rolls to his back and pulls down on his leg, as a result dragging Pat into a small package.

Mark: Ankle lock into the small package. The action in this match is almost too frantic to call.

Michelle: Then be like me, sit back and enjoy the violence.

The crowd is hopping out of their seats, realizing this could be just the counter to end the match.

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Pat launches his shoulder from the ring once more, forcing an exasperated sigh from the fans.

Mark: This physical melee continuing, although these two have already thrown so much at each other. This is just a testament of how much that World Heavyweight Title means to these competitors.

After kicking out of the small package, Pat rolls to his feet, gripping at his spine but blocking out the pain so he can catch his still kneeling opponent. He steps over Johnny’s head, wraps his arms around his waist and hoists him up into the air for the From the Inside Out.

Comeau: Crucifix bomb!

Blacker: Ewww, a little sacrilege too, I’m loving this.

The fragile condition of Evans’ back causes him to stagger in reverse as he gets Johnny up and over his shoulders for the maneuver. He backs a little TOO close to a nearby turnbuckle though, Johnny reaching out with his feet and hooking them under the top rope.

Pat steps forward to deliver one of his more deadlier maneuvers only to have Kingdom slip off of his back and land on the turnbuckle. Johnny grabs the top rope and stands on the middle cable as Evans frantically charges up behind him.

He walks right into a back elbow to the temple, staggering the technical tyrant. This gives Johnny enough time to begin scaling to the top rope, or so he thought. The second he puts a foot on the uppermost cable, Evans charges in again, hooks his arm from behind and pulls him out of the turnbuckle into the Spinal Tap.

The reaction from the fans could send Sigfried’s and Roy’s Bengal tigers into another murderous fit, it’s almost ear drum popping.

Mark: Spinal Tap, SPINAL TAP!! Evans nails it!

Michelle: I love spinal taps, their the only reason I go to the hospital.

Hope seems lost for the loyal Kingdom supporters, but even they can’t resist the temptation to count along with the official once his hand starts slapping the canvas. A kneeling Pat, suffering from extreme fatigue and overwhelming pain, puts all his energy behind the hook of Kingdom’s leg.

The referee makes the count with every fan hanging on each slap of the canvas.

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Mark: NEW World Champion!

3!

Evans sits up to celebrate his newly acquired gold before the reaction from the crowd tells him that his celebration is premature. Johnny kicked out with no more than a tenth of a second remaining before he lost his World Title.

Comeau: NO WAY!

Michelle: ALRIGHT, it’s still going.

Evans demands clarification, holding three fingers in the air only for the official to confirm that it was just a two count.

Mark: Evans SO CLOSE to winning the IWC World Title……oh what’s this about now?

Through the curtains storms Christian Savior, briefcase in hand and that same frightened mystery man following along behind him. As his feet crash down the steel rampway Savior unleashes a dreaded scowl in Pat’s direction. The fans don’t know why Savior and his associate are making their way towards the ring, and they don’t care either, immediately chastising them both.

Mark: That look on Savior’s face tells me he’s not out here to be just a spectator.

Michelle: Wonder what he’s got in that briefcase. Think maybe it’s some dental drills? That would be like Christmas come early for me.

Comeau: I doubt it, but I’m still dreading to find out.

Savior stops at ringside and begins waving the briefcase in an exhausted Evans’ direction. Pat finally takes notice of him when Christian starts raving like a lunatic.

Savior: What was that!?! Huh? HUH!?! Are you out of your mind?

It appears that Savior is referencing Pat’s attempt to pin Kingdom.

Christian: You know that’s not what you’re here to do. We just went over your damn contract….

The briefcase is popped open and a steel chain is removed from within. Savior tosses it into the ring where it ends up at Evans’ feet.

Savior: Now USE IT!

Christian pantomimes a punching motion. The referee shouts at Evans not to do it, as it would give the ref a clear cut reason to disqualify the challenger.

Mark: What’s going on here? Savior pissed that Evans went for the pin, and now he’s ordering him to use that chain. Since when does Christian have any say over Evans’ actions.

Blacker: Hey, I’d let him boss me around if he gave me a few chains, or tied me up with them to be more accurate.

Pat looks down at the chain then up into Savior’s face before offering his response as dryly as possible.

Evans: No.

Christian runs his hand through his hair, almost ripping out a patch of it. Before he completely looses his cool the Rising Phoenix tries to word his response as delicately as possible.

Christian: If you don’t do what I say you’ll be in breech of contract.

Pat: Then sue me.

These three simple words send Savior spiraling into madness.

Savior: You can’t do this, your not supposed to beat him!

Evans: You can take that contract, and you can take Dan’s high priced lawyer there and shove them both up your ass.

Christian gulps, trying to suppress his rage. The lawyer however is measuring his head, wondering how it could possibly fit in Savior’s rear-end.

Mark: Evans refusing to comply with what is mandated in his contract I guess. I have literally no clue what is transpiring here.

After making his blunt statement Evans finds that the distraction Savior posed was fatal. It’s given Kingdom just enough time to grab Evans from behind, spin him around and go for a boot to the ribs.

Pat is quick enough to catch Johnny’s boot though, keeping it from nailing him in the ribs. He now wraps his arms around that very foot, trying to turn Kingdom over into the ankle lock once more. Before the crowd can begin crying over Johnny’s lost title, the Champion lunges into the air and with his free foot nails a stiff enzugari to the back of Pat’s head.

Evans stumbles around like a drunk on a three day binder before turning to face the now upright Kingdom. This time Johnny’s boot does connect with Pat’s stomach, doubling him over where he’s in position for Johnny to place him in the front chancery.

Comeau: Savior may have cost Evans dearly, because now he’s about to be drilled with the Exodus Finale.

Michelle: Finally, a good ole fashion head drop.

Evans is far too dazed from the enzugari to provide some spectacular counter, which Johnny realizes. He moves all the more quickly to begin hoisting Evans into the air to deliver his finisher when a briefcase is swung directly into his face. The steel case cracks over Johnny’s skull and knocks him to the canvas, Christian standing over him dented weapon in hand.

Mark: AHHHH, Savior just KNOCKED OUT Kingdom!

The referee has no other choice, his hands tied by this blatant interference. He turns and calls for the bell, which chimes loudly in the background much to the dismay of each and every fan in attendance.

Comeau: What have you done Christian? What was the purpose of all this if you were just going to get Evans disqualified?

The disappointed crowd lets Christian know exactly what they think of him, having spent their hard earned cash just to witness this World Title match end with such a travesty. Savior stands over the toppled Champion, a smug yet unsatisfied expression on his face. He whistles for Douglas’ lawyer, who quickly hops to the apron while Christian is removing a contract from the briefcase.

Mark: I can’t believe there’s more.

Blacker: I was hoping their would be.

Before the rest of Christian’s plan can play out, a recovered Evans grabs the steel chain off of the canvas. This time he willingly wraps it around his fist, stands up and charges at Christian. If it weren’t for the lawyers screams Savior would have no clue that he was about to be beheaded by a blow from his former stable-mate. Christian drops to the canvas before Pat’s swing can connect and rolls under the ropes to the outside of the ring.

Mark: Evans going after Savior, preventing him from doing God only knows what. Can someone please explain to me what is happening here?

Michelle: I can tell you my version of the events, but there would most likely be a lot of sadomasochistic undertones thrown in there.

Comeau: No doubt.

Once at ringside Christian absolutely flips out, throwing the briefcase into the steps, stomping the barricade and ripping out not his hair, but the hair on the lawyer’s head as well.

Savior: You ruined everything Evans, everything! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been planning this? DO YOU!?! Your gonna pay, you hear me, YOUR GONNA PAY!

Savior snatches the glasses off his lawyer’s face and breaks them in two. The individual who truly should be enraged is Evans, who had his World Title ambitions cut short thanks to Christian’s interference. He just stands behind the ropes at this point seething with rage, his anger slowly building like a pressure cooker.

Mark: I don’t know what we’ve just witnessed, questions abound concerning this controversial ending to what was a great World Title bout. I hope we get some answers from either Evans or Savior as to what just happened.

The World Champion rolls to his side, grabbing at his head which has to be throbbing after that blow with the briefcase. Before he can even ask the official what happened, the World Title belt is already being lowered into his hands. Johnny stares at the strap in confusion only to ultimately shrug.

The camera switches from the chaos in the ring to Mark Comeau and Michelle Blacker behind the announce table, both individuals still stunned by what they witnessed.

Mark: Ladies and gentlemen, I just want to take this moment to apologize for this. I know this isn’t what you paid to see, but Christian Savior was determined to ruin what was otherwise a dandy of a contest.

Michelle: Dandy is too upbeat, use a more dark adjective.

Comeau: Hopefully by the time we head to Philadelphia for our next pay-per-view this controversy will have been resolved. That’s right, we’ll be coming to Philly for an event in the former ECW arena, an event known as the Overbooked Extravaganza II.

PAY-PER-VIEW ADVERT

SEX & VIOLENCE

Susie: Oh yeah, oh yeah, YES, YEEEESSS, GIVE IT TO ME…..

Susie’s passionate screams are quite misleading.

Moore: Hand me all those eights BIYATCH!

An exasperated Porno Lad forks all his precious cards over to Susie, who seems to be doing quite well in this ménage a troi of Go Fish.

Porno Lad: Alright, Miho, do you have any sevens?

Miyazaki stares coyly over the cards held in front of her face.

Miho: Go fish sailor boy.

A moan escapes the N.H.B Champion as he reaches into the pile of cards messily strewn across the center of the poker table.

Porno Lad: God how I hate this game.

Susie: You’re just being a sore loser. Now stop being a Mr. Grumpy Pants and enjoy yourself.

Porno Lad: I’m trrrryyyiinnng, but the thought of going out there to face Savior, Riggs, and Cagero all in the same match, is just so demoralizing.

Miho: Which is why we play Go Fish, cheer you up, yes?

Obviously there’s only one way to cheer up Porno Lad, but very little time to do it in.

Moore: Hmmm, you know what?

Porno Lad: Does it have anything to do with the size of Alan Thick’s head?

Although she hadn’t thought about it, now she can’t get Alan Thick off her mind.

Susie: Nooo, but thanks for giving me something else to obsess over. Actually, I was thinking it probably be a much better use of our time if we were back here having sex…..

Miyazaki: Interesting, how do you saaaayyyy, hypothesis.

Porno Lad is damn near knocking the table over, not with his hands or legs mind you, at the thought of this concept.

Porno Lad: You know, I still have about five minutes before the match, seeing as Savior’s entrance takes forever. And I’m sure I don’t need much energy to win this four way.

Miho: Yes, yes, sex now!

She throws all cards down on the table and already begins unfastening her leather cuirass. Susie is jumping for joy, slapping her hands together giddily.

Moore: Te-he, this is gonna be so much fun. We can even film this for our porno.

Porno Lad: Hmmm, maybe it’ll make the director’s cut.

Susie: Just let me go slip into something more comfortable.

The over eager Susie almost trips over her own chair as she tried to move seductively towards the bathroom. Before stepping inside she offers a parting comment, and attempts to do so in the most alluring manner.

Susie: Don’t you two get started without me.

She finally slips into the bathroom and shuts the door behind herself, leaving Porno Lad and Miho Miyazaki to their own devices. Miho turns to the Champion with that come hither stare.

Miyazaki: I no wait for Susie, sailor boy.

Porno Lad: Meh’, she’ll get over it, and like I said, I don’t have a lot of time.

Miho: It okay, I work quickly.

She stands up continuing to remove her cuirass but can’t quite get it off. Porno Lad moves in to help and she quickly tries to plant a kiss on his lips that causes him to step back. He briefly questions whether this is wrong or not, and wants to punch himself in the face over posing such a wussy question.

Porno Lad: Continue disrobing.

He settles for a show. Miho gladly obliges, grabbing her skirt and slowly, tantalizingly pulling it down. She twists from side to side, making the process all the more slower and sensual. Porno Lad watches, liking what he sees just before the dress slips past her lower extremities. The camera remains positioned on both Miho’s and Porno Lad’s face, an odd expression forms on the N.H.B Champion’s features. His eyes blink awkwardly and for the first time in his life he finds himself vexed, frozen for a response.

Miyazaki stands there with a smile, waiting for him to say something, yet he just can’t get the words out.

Porno Lad: Huh……well……I guess that would be a penis.

Miho begins to chuckle sinisterly, confirming that Porno Lad isn’t hallucinating.

Porno Lad: Weeeeellll…if you’ll excuse me, I need to wash my eyes with Draino….

Before the shock of this set up fully hits Porno Lad, something else provides a staggering blow. A chair swung by Jackson Adams into the upper back of the prankster sends him toppling over and collapsing across the surface of the poker table. The table shatters under Porno Lad’s weight, the legs fracturing.

Miho quickly pulls up her skirt, covering the very object that had Porno Lad on the brink of upchucking. She now begins stomping away at the stunned champion, Jackson doing the same. Robin Brooks, Katie Steward, Paris Dannon and Autumn Daniels come charging into the dressing room, all mauling the disabled champion.

Porno Lad tries desperately to get up, but the sheer number of assailants is too much for him to contend with. Jackson grabs him by the wrist, while Miho takes hold of the other, and they both whip him with great velocity into the wall. Porno Lad crashes shoulder first against a locker, the steel denting around his body. As he staggers away from it Brooks picks up the chair that Jackson just used and swings it right into his skull.

Once again Porno Lad finds himself laid out, powerless to defend himself against the numerous stomps being delivered to his body. Just as he starts to feel like Joe Pesci at the end of Casino, Paris grabs hold of his bangs and sits him up on the floor, forcing him to watch Jackson rip through his bags until he eventually finds the X-Class Title belt.

A satisfied, smirking Jackson is finally reunited with his title, bringing it to his lips and kissing it.

Jackson: Awww, did you miss daddy?

Porno Lad’s arms are trapped in the grips of Robin and Miho, having absolutely no means of defense. Jackson steps towards him, lowering down to his level and literally rubbing the title in his face.

Jackson: I tooooolld ya that I’d get my belt back when I was ready. But this isn’t the only title we’re about to take from you.

Robin: Someone else wants to say hi. PICK HIM UP!

The powerless, brutalized Porno Lad is forced to his feet and thrown through the door out into the hall. The gang follows him out, Jackson and Miho bringing up the rear, cackling over their well orchestrated plot. As they vacate the dressing room, the door to the bathroom flies open and Susie steps out.

Moore: Alright, I’m READY!

Moore, now dressed from head to toe in a Chewbacca costume, overlooks the shattered remnants of the dressing room.

THE ULTIMATE BETRAYAL

The camera returns to the interior of the Hard Rock Café where the crowd is still speechless over the incident they just witnessed on the Cartel-Tron. Judging by the shocked, distant voice of Mark Comeau, one can tell that he too is reeling from the violent images played out backstage.

Mark: I’m not sure how to describe what we just saw happen backstage ladies and gentlemen. Actually I’ve had that problem all night long what with swerve after swerve only further complicating matters here in the IWC. But after that last backstage foray, I’m not sure I can continue even trying to keep track of the madness.

Michelle: Good, your no therapist. You don’t even look like mine. Altttthooooough, I can barely see his face in that gimp mask.

Comeau: The Brat Pack pulled another fast one, this time on Porno…..alright, now it’s only getting worse.

Porno Lad doesn’t even have the power to stand, being dragged along like a human marionette, both his arms clutched by Miho and Adams. The chuckling duo look quite pleased with themselves after that well orchestrated set-up that capitalized on Susie Moore’s gullibility and Porno Lad’s willingness to trust his girlfriend. That trust has led him right into the clutches of the Brat Pack, who continue pulling him along to the ring.

Katie and Robin gloat to whoever will listen, whether it be to one another, or the repulsed fans. Paris and Autumn bring up the rear, Dannon with a big old smile across her face, and Daniels barely showing even a trace of emotion.

Mark: The Brat Pack coming out in force and I guess their going to lord their catch over us all. For crying out loud they have NOTHING to be proud of themselves over, this was nothing more than a six on one mugging.

Michelle: I’ve rented several films that start out that way, and boy are they ever HAWT! In fact, this whole scene is kinda getting me itchy under the collar too.

Comeau: Please for the love of God keep your clothes on. Why am I surrounded with STEREOTYPES who can’t keep their clothes on!?!

To say that Porno Lad’s night has gone disastrously would be an understatement, and to make matters worse the Brat Pack still have plans for him. He begins to struggle when dragged through the ropes in Miho’s clutches, his weakened body attempting to free his bicep.

Mark: Hey look, Porno Lad has still got some fight left in him….

Jackson’s fist flies over the top rope and cracks Porno Lad in the jaw, taking the fight out of him and bringing him down to both knees. After the brutality he’s already suffered, even the slightest jab proves devastating for his fatigued body.

Dannon enters the ring and immediately slips into position, hooking one arm then other, holding Porno Lad in position via a full nelson.

Comeau: So much for Porno Lad’s attempted comeback.

Michelle: Yes, it didn’t provide nearly enough violence.

With the X-Class Title now strewn over Jackson’s shoulders the swagger has returned to his waltz. He strolls leisurely across the ring and requests a mic, one promptly placed in his palm. He pitches it carelessly over his shoulder where it lands in the hands of an exhausted, sweaty Robin Brooks.

Robin: Tonight, isn’t about explanations….after all, I know that’s what YOU….(her finger gestures to the booing fans)….WANT…..and what you want is as meaningless to me as my ex fiancée. We here in the Brat Pack do not care about catering to your whims, to giving you what you want, so you’ll have to wait for answers, wait for when we’re READY to give them.

The booing only grows louder, but Robin raises the tone of her voice to speak over it. You can barely even hear Porno Lad’s muffled groans and roars as he tries to fight out of Paris’ clutches only to be shut down with some well timed slaps to the cheek from Miyazaki.

Brooks: So instead of giving you answers, we’re giving you something that WE want to see. And what the Brat Pack wants, oh you better believe it gets. Jackson and I wanted Hurse to suffer, he DID, we wanted to embarrass Porno Lad with Miho’s help, we DID that too. But there’s another amongst us who WANTS, so it’s time for us to give into her desires by supplying my NEW BFF with a title match!

The crowd unleashes a collective gasp, hands literally slapping their mouths in shock. They almost suck all the oxygen out of the building, leaving Steward light headed, well, from that or the stench in the backstage lockeroom.

Robin: Porno Lad….

She snaps his fingers in front of his growling face, stooping towards him and brushing her hair behind her ears.

Brooks: I hope you realize that you made this far, FAR too easy. You made the challenge, you said anywhere, anyplace, title on the line….you backed Buehler into a corner. She never wanted to fight you, until you forced her to. So since you wanted that match oh so, so badly….

She makes a pouty face.

Robin: Your gonna get it, right now. Bring out the challenger!

Almost on cue to Brooks’ demand “Hollywood Whore” blares through the PA system and Katelyn Buehler steps to the stage, arm interlocked with shady referee Alex Ingelson.

Mark: No, come on, seriously?? Haven’t we already been subjected to enough? The Brat Pack is forcing Porno Lad to defend his N.H.B Title against Katelyn Buehler. It was reported on the IWC website earlier this week that Porno Lad had given Buehler an open contract to face him for his belt, but I don’t think he ever dreamed the match would be under these circumstances.

Blacker: I’m fine with whatever circumstances….as long as there’s people hurting each other, or the possibility that I might be hurt too.

Obviously Ingelson is in the back pocket of the Brat Pack tonight, selling his services to the highest bidder. Tonight, however, all it took was a wink from Buehler to gain his favor.

Brooks: Oh, and Ethan, considering that Katelyn has already had a looooonnng night, it’s only fair that your in the same condition that she is for this match.

With that same Paris drags him up to his feet, steps out of the way and allows Adams to move in, hooking Porno Lad’s arms from behind. The N.H.B Champion is spun around and then planted face first into the canvas with the unprettier. All the while Robin is making her way through the ropes and to the apron, beginning to scale a nearby turnbuckle.

Mark: This is injustice ladies and gentlemen, pure, unadulterated injustice. The Brat Pack is all but guaranteeing that Porno Lad cannot defend his title in this upcoming match.

Michelle: This just keeps getting better and better.

After having his face smeared across the canvas Porno Lad flops to his back, left in perfect position for the airborne Brooks. Robin flips off of the top rope of the nearest turnbuckle and connects with the Flying Star. The lethal shooting star press knocks all the air out of Porno Lad’s body and right alongside it goes any notion of putting up a fighting.

She rolls out of the way as Ingelson hops through the ropes and orders the time keeper to ring the bell. After a slight argument, which requires Alex to point to his striped shirt confirming he’s the ultimate authority in the ring, the bell chimes.

Mark: Their actually going through with it. This is borderline repulsive.

Blacker: The more repulsive the better.

The Brat Pack clears out of the ring, leaving only straggler behind, Buehler. She leans back first against a corner, licking her lips and whipping back her hair so that everyone can properly see the smile on her face. The grin has the fans on the verge of upchucking, as does this whole disturbing scene.

Katelyn slowly waltzes across the ring and finally drops to her knees at the side of her wounded ex. She puts her finger tips to her lips and then lowers them to Porno Lad’s mouth, whispering sweet nothings all the while.

Katelyn: I told you I wasn’t a loser.

Buehler drops into the lateral press, using all her strength just to lift Porno Lad’s leg. There is no signs of life in his eyes and his body remains as placid as the surface of a lake. Ingelson cracks his knuckles before dropping down and making the count.

Mark: No, NO! This is THEFT!

The crowd is equally as unsupportive of this move, screaming feebly for Porno Lad to kick out.

1

2

3

Despite the best efforts of the crowd their words just weren’t enough to motivate Porno Lad and compensate for the injuries he’s already withstood. He was powerless as an infant against the pinfall, a pinfall that ended his undefeated streak, a pinfall that has ended his N.H.B title run.

Mark: I can’t believe this CRAP! It’s moments like these that make it difficult for me to even continue commentating for this company. I swear I just want to vomit! Katelyn Buehler is the NEW N.H.B Champion.

Blacker: Hmmmm, couldn’t they have at least used a whip or something to make this more brutal? The whole beat down seemed far too tame for my taste.

After being forced to witness the World Title fiasco, followed by this shocking title switcheroo, the fans are at their boiling points. Some of them are already pelting the ring with garbage before they are quickly subdued by security. Buehler doesn’t notice their reaction as she lunges to her feet and does an enzone dance, almost a version of the Icky Shuffle.

Katie Steward hops to the apron, wearing the N.H.B Title over her forearm and bestows it unto Buehler. As soon as the strap enters her palms Buehler goes nuts, hopping up and down, wrapping her arm around Steward’s neck and planting a kiss on her cheek. Katie quickly requests a baby wipe from Paris while Buehler rushes at a nearby turnbuckle, jumps onto it and lifts her gold into the air.

Mark: Well, I think our main event has just been ruined, right alongside our Las Vegas debut. I can already hear the sound of a thousand people requesting refunds.

Porno Lad continues to lay on the canvas, now being subjected to the sounds of Katelyn’s screaming voice. Buehler is elated as the rest of the Brat Pack members enter the ring, Robin clapping in a regal, queenly manner. Adams is already kneeling over Porno Lad, still holding the X-Class Title belt over his barely open eyes then laying into him with a stomp to the forehead.

Mark: You’ve done enough already, come on. You’ve taken the man’s title, and now it looks like he won’t even be able to compete in the main event. Leave him be you vultures.

Michelle: I rather enjoy the sight of vultures feasting on human flesh. It’s my all time favorite Youtube video.

Miho joins in with the stomping as well, both of them putting the boots to the prankster before the assault is cut short thanks to the arrival of an uninvited guest. With his arm in a sling and a baseball bat in his free palm, Hurse comes barreling down the ramp and sliding into the ring.

Mark: It’s HURSE….the other man who felt the wrath of the Brat Pack earlier tonight.

The bat is swung wildly in the air, Hurse trying to hit anything that moves. The seven co-conspirators in the ring high tail it, sliding out under the ropes or jumping over them, not one of them particularly interested in wasting their time with Hurse. Besides, their point has already been made, they’ve completed their task for the night.

With Hurse watching through enraged eyes from the inside of the ring both Brooks and Buehler stop at the edge of the ramp, lift their title belts and blow a simultaneous kiss in his direction. Hurse swings the bat into the turnbuckle, his blood pressure skyrocketing.

Mark: Katelyn Buehler shocking the world twice tonight, and with the help of the Brat Pack she’s set up both of her former lovers. And all she’s got to show for it is a title belt, A TITLE BELT! Was winning gold really worth all this suffrage?

Michelle: Yeah, if your gonna make someone suffer it should be for fun, not gain.

Comeau: That wasn’t my point at all.

It takes everything in Hurse’s power to remove his eyes from the celebrating Brat Pack, his focus shifting to his long time nemesis. Porno Lad sits up at this point, leaning back first against the ropes and looking through glazed over eyes at the man who just spared him further degradation.

Mark: Hurse actually came to Porno Lad’s aid here tonight, as inconceivable as that may be. Unfortunately he showed up just a few seconds too late to keep Buehler from walking away with that N.H.B Title belt.

The two men continue exchanging a stare, sharing similar motivations for once, a combined desire for retribution against the Brat Pack. Finally Hurse slips through the ropes to the apron, careful to protect his possibly broken arm. But as he stands on the apron he focus locked on the now former N.H.B Champion.

CHRISTIAN SAVIOR © VS. RIGGS VS. SIMON CAGERO VS. PORNO LAD

A wounded, battered Porno Lad, his body pulverized like a slab of beef being beaten by Rocky Balboa, slowly, sluggishly starts towards his feet. Referee Chester Princeton slides into the ring, ready to officiate the upcoming match, the one that had already been advertised.

As he passed Alex Ingelson retreating up the ramp, the two exchanged a fierce glare, Alex being scolded for his involvement in this travesty.

Mark: On a night that can only be described as “bizarre,” the whole course of this main event has been altered. I can’t imagine that the N.H.B Championship will now be defended considering that Katelyn Buehler just pinned and defeated the champion and by virtue has taken the title.

Buehler: Too bad Katelyn isn’t out here competing, women’s screams are so much louder than a man’s, and far more intoxicating.

Comeau: Riiiiiiight.

Porno Lad, who finds himself grateful towards Hurse for once, which makes him wish to shower, continues to use the ropes to aid himself to his feet. When he finds out that he’s now expected to wrestle on top of everything that has already happened to him, needless to say he’s not a happy camper. However, even when the ref asks him whether he’d like to forfeit or not, Porno Lad opts for the later of the two options.

Mark: It looks like Porno Lad is going to gut it out and hang in there, but I can’t imagine that he’s in any condition to battle three of IWC’s best and brightest talents.

Porno Lad’s legs give out from under him, but he refuses the help of the official and continues to plead that he’s ready to go, even though he’s barely aware of his own name, or that he’s actually inside of a wrestling ring at the moment.

AN ABBREVIATED CELEBRATION

One would think it’s Mardi Gras, or Time Square on News Year Eve in the gorilla position. A loud celebration has erupted backstage, all dedicated to the group that pulled not one, not two, not three, but FOUR swerves tonight. Katelyn Buehler continues to sit on the shoulders of both Jackson Adams and Paris Dannon, stroking her newly acquired N.H.B title. She gently caresses the belt held to the side of her cheek.

Robin: What a night, what a night, WHAT A NIGHT!

The Brat Pack throws their hands into the air in celebration, well, with the exception of Paris and Jackson, considering they’d drop Katelyn on her ass.

Steward: I love the taste of domination.

Buehler: I bet it taste like Jolly Ranchers.

Orlando: Yaaaaaayyyy….

The last person any of the Brat Pack members thought would join in on their celebration is Orlando Cruze, but he too is partaking in the jocularity. He starts towards the slightly creeped Robin and Katie, the two ladies exchanging an odd glance as Orlando’s clapping hands near them.

Cruze: Congratulations, ALRIIIIIGGHHHHT….you guys and gals sure have been productive.

Although Robin and Steward may find themselves stuck for a response; Jackson is never at a loss for words.

Jackson: You bet ya, and tonight was only just the beginning.

Robin: Shhhh….you said too much already.

Orlando: Ohhh, not as if Jackson’s confessions can get you into any deeper trouble. After all, you’ve already dug a shallow grave for yourselves.

The act is dropped.

Robin: Tough talk, we’ve heard it before.

Cruze: Sweetie, I’m much more than tough talk, I’m also about actions. And speaking of which, Katelyn, congratulations on your cheap win and all…..

Katelyn snuggles up to the title.

Orlando: But I hope you’re ready to be a fighting champion. You wanted to win that belt so badly tonight, well if you want to walk away with it, you’re gonna have to actually earn it.

Buehler becomes even more protective of the title she just stole from her former, abusive lover.

Cruze: Because as of now, the main event is no longer a four corner survival, it’s a FIVE WAY FRAY, and Buehler, you better believe your cute little ass is the fifth combatant. Carry her back to the ring for her first, and probably last, N.H.B title defense. Then get your asses back here because your all BARRED from ringside.

The fans react like they were sitting on fire crackers, and Buehler looks as if she’s about to explode like one. Her face is blood red while she swallows what appears to be a toad.

Jackson: That’s an abuse of power!

Katie: Go back to your cave with your precious! I don’t even work for you.

Paris: FREE TIBET, FREE TIBET!

Cruze can only wonder what the last series of insults were supposed to mean, but he doesn’t really care about understanding his subordinates, all he’s concerned with is preserving the law.

KATELYN BUEHLER © VS. CHRISTIAN SAVIOR © VS. RIGGS VS. SIMON CAGERO VS. PORNO LAD

Inside of the ring Porno Lad has gotten a sudden burst of energy, spirits renewed by the scene on the Cartel-Tron. It almost looks like he swallowed a whole can of spinach, filling him with that last feat of strength he needs to make it over the final hurdle.

Mark: Porno Lad didn’t have to wait very long for his rematch, and it seems that Orlando’s decision has given him new life.

Michelle: Yawn, wake me up when things get depressing again.

Comeau: Another stunning turn of events on what has been one of the wildest nights I can ever remember calling.

Porno Lad leans over the ropes at the edge of the ramp, wanting his face to be the first thing Katelyn sees when she comes through the curtains. He is teaming with anticipation despite all the head trauma he’s suffered in just the past ten minutes. It’s this trauma that prompts Christian Savior to dash towards the ring.

The lyrics of “Falling in the Black” barely even has a chance to feed into the PA system before Savior tears through the curtains and races towards the ring.

Mark: Katelyn Buehler not the first person to come out for this Five Way Fray, instead it’s Christian Savior, who has had a controversial role in tonight’s telecast to say the least.

Blacker: The human misery that he’s inflicted has been quite entertaining. I look forward to seeing much, much more.

Comeau: I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re even more obnoxious than Susie Moore. Christian and Porno Lad have a well documented rivalry brewing as a result of an unfinished Hardcore Match that has now gone down in the record books as the longest bout in IWC history, spanning an entire month.

Savior slides into the ring, looking to settle the long standing issue between he and the N.H.B Champion. Sadly for Savior’s sake, he underestimated the recuperative abilities of his rival. As he throws a punch he’s shocked to find it blocked by the prankster, who now unloads with punch after punch of his own, feeding off the rage of what just transpired.

Mark: Look at Porno Lad go, you’d hardly even think that this man was just blindsided by the entirety of the Brat Pack. He may not be anywhere close to 100% but he wants to end this feud with Savior and end it tonight.

Savior is reeling from each blow, back peddling towards the turnbuckle. After everything went awry for him tonight, it caused him to be perhaps a little too overeager, not having anticipated this type of fight from the wounded former champion.

Finally Christian falls spine first against the turnbuckle and Porno Lad leaps into the air, going for a flying forearm. Savior side steps him and catches Porno Lad by the back of the head, tossing him over the turnbuckle face first into the top of exposed post.

Mark: AAHHHH! Porno Lad, in his groggy condition, just completely overshot Savior and is paying for it dearly.

Blacker: I hope more people are introduced to the turnbuckle post tonight.

After cracking face first against steel, Porno Lad twists over the ropes and crashes to the outside mats. There he lays a motionless heap, the effects of the earlier beat down having finally caught up with him. “Pardon Me” by Staind streams through the speakers.

Once again the fans are disappointed that it’s not Katelyn Buehler’s music hitting the PA system. Morbidly obsessed with seeing her get what’s coming to her after a night of betrayals. But if anyone could compensate for the lack of torture inflicted on Buehler, it’s Simon Cagero. The second that he steps to the stage the crowd literally explodes as if their intestines were packed with dynamite. The explosive Cagero stops on the stage, twists to overlook the crowd and feeds off their energy.

Mark: Simon Cagero now headed to the ring, just one of five combatants looking to make a splash in this double title foray. Since his return he hasn’t endeared himself to anyone in the lockeroom, but these fans sure seem happy to have him back.

Michelle: I like him, just because his words make me feel like shit, which is an awesome feeling.

Simon continues rotating, playing it up to the fans before one of his turns is stopped in a semi circle by a Singapore cane to the face. A staff wielding Riggs steps through the curtains, watching as an absolutely stunned Simon crashes to the ramp and rolls down it towards the ring.

Mark: WHOOOOOOAAA! The unstable, unpredictable Riggs not waiting for the over the top entrances, he wants Simon’s blood and he wants it right now! This main event getting off to a chaotic start.

Michelle: I wrote a poem for Riggs, want to hear it?

Comeau: Good God no!

Simon runs his hands over his face repeatedly, making sure there are no blotches or even more horrifying, scars. He reaches the end of the ramp, getting to a crawling base only to be taken back down into a roll after the cane is swung into his upper back by his painted rival.

Mark: These two have started quite a rival after Cagero came back seemingly targeting Riggs, who he feels represents everything that he use to be about, and wants to put in his past. After repeatedly aiming his verbal attacks at Riggs, the psychotic Painted Warrior actually tried to burn Cagero ALIVE.

Michelle: We can only hope that he succeeds next time. There is nothing more savory than the smell of burning human flesh.

A welt has already formed on Simon’s upper back as Riggs takes the cane, slides it across Cagero’s throat and pulls back, actually choking him. Simon gets to his knee, leaning the back of his head into Riggs’ gut so there’s nowhere he can go. Riggs rears back on the cane with as much torque as his arms will allow, creating enough pressure in Simon’s head to send his eyes popping out of their sockets.

Meanwhile Porno Lad is desperately trying to pull himself up in the ring, the apron aiding him to his feet. He leans with his spine pressed to the ring, now fighting a much different struggle, one taking place inside of his head. After all the shots he’s taken to the skull, including the one to the turnbuckle post, he teeters between the realms of consciousness and unconsciousness.

Savior helps his mind make a decision by dropping into a baseball slide that connects to Porno Lad’s upper back and sends him flying into Cagero and Riggs. The choke is broken when Porno Lad crashes skull first into the Painted Warrior’s chin, and his knee cracks Simon’s exposed face.

All three men spill across the mats while Savior grabs the top rope in the ring.

Mark: Just like in that triple threat match we saw earlier, the action getting off to a frantic pace without all the combatants in the ring. Katelyn Buehler yet to come out here, and if she’s wise she’s waiting for these four to destroy each other before she comes back out to defend her N.H.B title.

Michelle: Dammit, I want to hear the bitch scream!

Mark: And I want you to go on meds, stat.

With a trio of phenomenal wrestlers trying to reach their feet at ringside, Savior stands up in the ring and realizes that everyone of them are at his mercy. He grabs the top rope and pulls himself over into a senton pancha only to have everyone clear out of the way at the last second. As a result Christian slams spine first into the mats, then immediately sits up roaring from the ungodly pain coursing through his back.

Mark: Yet again Savior’s plans go horribly awry!! Everyone clearing out before Christian could connect with the senton. We’re seeing these guys take it another level even though this match has only been going a few moments. They realize that if they pin Christian, one of them will be the tag champion, if anybody pins Buehler, they’ll be the N.H.B Champion, and no matter who wins, they’ll become the first King for a Day. So many stakes in this match.

FINALLY security drags Katelyn Buehler through the curtains, trying her best to make their job difficult. With the N.H.B belt in her clutches she swings her arms, both biceps gripped in the palms of Orlando’s security force. They deposit her at the ring, and although she tries to rush right to the backstage area they form a human wall preventing her escape.

With a stomp of her foot, and a glance at the belt she just acquired, Buehler realizes that she will have to compete. Therefore she bucks up, throws her gold over her shoulder and makes the long march to the ring.

Mark: Katelyn is smart, she knows that walking into this match is like walking into a minefield, she may never make it out, and if she does, she’ll probably be in pieces, especially if Porno Lad gets his hands on her.

Michelle: Mmmm, that thought is delicious.

Christian continues sitting on the mats, every organ in his body perhaps seriously damaged after that crash from such a height. None of his opponents are ready to show him mercy however, the tipsy Porno Lad jumping right on top of him. He is unaware that Katelyn is now making her way down the ramp.

He settles for pulverizing Christian’s face, nailing right hand after right hand to his face. Now that Riggs is deprived of his cane, Simon begins assaulting him with a succession of right hands. Cagero proves that his most powerful weapon is his fists, although he would claim that it’s another part of his anatomy.

A knee connects to Riggs’ ribs, doubling him over as Simon takes him by the hair and the back of the pants, spins him around in a circle then pitches him skull first into the barrier. He crashes against the steel plates advertising IWC merchandise and now advertising the impression of his skull.

He starts to stand up, utilizing the very barricade that just caused him so much grief only to have Simon grab a trash-can lid out from under the ring and come charging in. Riggs gets his boot up, nailing the can and driving it right back into Simon’s face.

Mark: Simon’s planned assault backfiring, tasting that steel.

Riggs almost back flips over the barricade, landing out amongst the fans who clear from his path. He then springs to the railing and comes flying off towards Cagero. That’s when Simon throws the trash can lid with all of his strength straight into Riggs’ face.

The sound of steel hitting skull echoes like a gunshot throughout the arena while Riggs suffers as if he were just involved in a drive by. He lays on the mats convulsing, his eyes mere slits, half open, half closed.

Mark: That time it didn’t backfire. I wonder if Simon thought that in only his second match back he’d be competing in this chaotic setting?

Michelle: I hope he’s enjoying it as much as I am. Someone bust our some barbwire already.

Comeau: Everybody taking full advantage of the No Holds Barred stipulation in this double title match.

Katelyn Buehler does indeed take advantage of the lack of rules, rushing at Porno Lad and smacking him in the back of the head with the N.H.B Title belt. The violent shot from the title only further scrambles Porno Lad’s brains, which must look like eggs in a frying pan in one of those old anti-drug propaganda commercials.

He drops lifelessly to his shoulder as Buehler now begins to lay into him with stomp after stomp. It’s the fear for her life that compels her to inflict as much damage on the prankster as possible. She realizes that if Porno Lad gets up she’s in for a fix.

That’s why she turns towards a recovering Christian and pleads for his help.

Katelyn: You and me? We take him out and it’s one less person we have to defend our titles against.

Although Savior deems himself to be intellectually superior, there’s no way he can argue with this logic. He steps in to aid Buehler, giving them a decisive two on one advantage over all their opponents in a match that has degenerated into chaos.

Mark: Katelyn and Christian working together against their common foe. I think Porno Lad has had enough of being out numbered here tonight.

Michelle: When there’s violence to be had, the more the merrier.

Savior and Buehler take turns pummeling Porno Lad’s now lacerated forehead. Their punches, in combination with that impact against the turnbuckle post, rips the prankster’s skin wide open, sending a crimson stream flowing down his face.

While Porno Lad suffers a heinous assault at the hands of his allied rivals, Cagero and Riggs don’t take it any easier on one another. The two are now brawling out in the stands after Cagero threw Riggs into the exposed cement floor.

Both men are trading blows with one another, Riggs recovering enough to tolerate a few dingers to the jaw. He stumbles back towards a wall containing a number of rock and roll memorabilia, framed, plagued and hung. Simon has no reservations about whipping Riggs right into this priceless merchandise, booting him to the ribs, taking his wrist and throwing him towards a gold record.

Riggs reverses the whip though, instead sending Simon charging into the wall and causing the glass around one of the displays to shatter. Shards of glass come tumbling down on top of Simon’s body, giving the crowd even greater motivation to cheer.

Mark: I think the Hard Rock Café is going to have a lot of grounds for a lawsuit after this match is all said and done.

After the blood starts squirting from Porno Lad’s head, Katelyn cannot contain her enthusiasm. She turns and lifts up a palm, looking for a high five. A smiling Christian, also pleased that he’s found a release for his frustrations in the form of Porno Lad’s face, reciprocates her gesture, slapping his palm into hers.

The two share a tender moment that is abruptly ended by a boot to Buehler’s ribs and yank of her hair. Savior rolls Buehler into the ring and then follows right along behind her.

The crowd is screaming over Christian’s betrayal, actually supporting him as the lesser of two perceived evils. Apparently the swerve that Katelyn just pulled is a little fresher on their minds than what Savior did at the end of that World Heavyweight title match.

No matter what reason the crowd has for supporting Christian, they keep on screaming at the sight of him catching a now upright Buehler around the neck and pulling her down into a diamond cutter. Katelyn’s mouth swallows canvas, perhaps the first meal she’s had in weeks, and her body flops to its back. Christian scrambles into the cover and hooks her leg for the three count.

Mark: Savior looking to start off his Road to El Dorado in a big way by acquiring the N.H.B Title. This would be two title changes in the span of less than twenty minutes. You’d think Vince Russo were booking tonight’s show.

Michelle: There haven’t been nearly enough pole matches for that to be possible.

The crowd counts along with each slap of the canvas, just dying to see Buehler lose her title within minutes of having won it.

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The pin is broken thanks to Christian being dragged out of the ring by his ankle. He drops to his feet and finds himself stunned to be staring into the bloodied face of Porno Lad. Before the shock can register, Porno Lad picks up the Singapore Cane that was leaning against his knee and cracks it right over Savior’s forehead.

Shards of wood go flying in all different directions, while Savior’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

Mark: Porno Lad breaking up the pinfall and having that cane waiting to demolish Savior.

Blacker: YEEEEESSS, oh God that was satisfying.

Christian looks as lost as Harvey Firestone in a brothel. He stumbles, staggers and almost looses his footing only to finally collapse to his back, his body catching up to his brain. As he lays on the canvas, blood drips onto him, but it’s not coming from his own body.

Porno Lad stoops over his opponent, still bleeding and still looking fired up despite the punishment he’s already taken. His cold eyes turn towards the ring at this point where Buehler is beginning to come through. Her eyes open just in time to see the blood smeared features glaring back at her from under the ropes. A cold chill runs up her spine as Porno Lad grabs the bottom rope and begins pulling himself into the ring.

Mark: Katelyn about to get her comeuppance for all the heart ache and suffrage she’s caused tonight.

Michelle: At last, at last, good God almighty, at last.

Katelyn begins to slide across her rear-end, holding both palms up, begging off and pleading for even the slightest of mercies. Mercy isn’t a word in Porno Lad’s vocabulary as he slides through the ropes, holding the jagged, broken handle of the Singapore Cane. It appears that a shanking is in order and Katelyn is about to be the victim of this heinous, prison yard brutality.

Mark: Buehler reeping what she sows.

She continues begging off before he back hits a turnbuckle, now realizing that there is literally nowhere for her to go. She’s pinned, trapped completely at the mercy of the former N.H.B Champion.

Finally Buehler uses her most potent weapon to try and get herself out of this predicament, her feminine wilds. She steps out of the ring, pulling now on the collar of her shirt to show even more cleavage and walking with an alluring strut towards her ex.

Mark: Ummm, does Katelyn actually believe that showing some tit is going to get her off scott free?

Michelle: Usually works for me. But then again, when am I not showing cleavage in this hot leather ensemble?

The rage in Porno Lad seems to be subsiding, perhaps forgetting the betrayal he just suffered and remembering greater days, time spent with Buehler that wasn’t quite so problematic. The broken weapon slips from his palm and falls to the canvas, Buehler’s smile widening as she extends her palms and goes to place them on the bloodied chest of her former flame.

Her cleavage hypnosis seems to have soothed the savage beast, but appearances have been quite deceiving tonight. Porno Lad suddenly spins around and almost beheads Katelyn with the Epic Fail. The superkick drills her right to the jaw and gives Porno Lad solace for the first time in months.

Mark: Buehler finally suffering the Epic Fail! Porno Lad has been salivating at the thought of delivering that move on his ex for so long now, and this time she couldn’t avoid it.

Katelyn looks damn near comatose in the ring, eyes awkwardly blinking as her bloodied former lover stands above her. Instead of going for the pin, Porno Lad decides to dish out further punishment. He starts towards the ropes, slips through to the apron and climbs the turnbuckle, reaching the very top rope.

Comeau: Porno Lad about to fly.

Blacker: Let’s hope he has a nasty landing.

Blacker’s desire is satisfied once Riggs hops to the apron behind Porno Lad, wedges his hand to his rear-end and shoves him from the turnbuckle. Porno Lad flies through the air before eventually crashing face first right into the announce table at ringside.

Mark: AAAHH! Porno Lad SLAMMING into our table!

Michelle: That’ll do.

Riggs, who left Cagero laying in the crowd amongst the broken shards of glass, now capitalizes on all of Porno Lad’s hard-work. He grabs the top rope, springs to it then comes flying off into a big splash that connects right across Katelyn’s bosom. He promptly hooks her leg, going for the three count, on the verge of becoming the N.H.B Champion.

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Savior dives in out of nowhere and breaks up the three count.

Mark: Riggs so close to becoming the N.H.B Champion but Savior stops the count at the very last second.

An annoying Riggs rises to his knees, staring through harrowing eyes at the man he’s opposed on so many different encounters. Christian has trouble standing up, his brain still mush after that blow from the cane. Nevertheless he gets his feet beneath him just in time to turn and stare into the painted features of one of his longest rivals.

Comeau: Oh my, I think Savior has just stumbled into the lion’s den. You’d be hard pressed not to remember the rivalry that these two have waged over the past two years.

Before Savior can even ask for a time out, Riggs nails him with a right hand, followed by another, and another. Savior finally tumbles spine first into a turnbuckle, Riggs climbing up it and beginning to rain down fist after fist to his skull.

The crowd is counting along, nearing ten before Riggs leans down and begins to sink his teeth into Savior’s forehead.

Michelle: Riggs is EATING Savior. I know there are certain fetish markets for this type of stuff, but eventually even I have to cross the line when things get this kinky.

Mark: I find that hard to believe. But what I don’t have trouble accepting is that Riggs is entirely devoted to mauling every participant in this match, especially Savior.

Christian is crying out in pain as the flesh is being literally torn from muscle by Riggs’ fangs. That’s when he’s saved by the most unlikely of sources. A still shaken Simon climbs to the apron beside both men then springs to the top rope, flying off, catching Riggs by the back of the head and pulling him down off of the turnbuckle into a reverse neckbreaker.

Mark: WHAT A MOVE!

The crowd is just as enthusiastic as Comeau at the sight of Simon’s unbelievable neckbreaker variation that may very well have severed Riggs’ spine. His convulsing body lays on the canvas, his muscle spasms being his only movement.

Christian doesn’t have a chance to express gratitude towards the rising Cagero, because Simon quickly charges in and clotheslines him against the turnbuckle. Savior almost looses his footing before Simon grabs him by the back of the head with both hands, charges out of the corner and drives Christian face first into Riggs’ crotch with a modified bulldog.

Mark: Two for the price of one.

Simon kneels on the canvas while his wounded opponents roll all around him. Riggs is grabbing at his crotch, apparently having forgotten to put on his protective cup while Savior writhes like a fish out of water, palms engulfing his forehead.

Cagero stands up, hops over Riggs, lunges into the air and lands across the back of his legs on the top rope. He flips over backwards into an Arabian Press that connects right across Riggs’ mid-section before promptly hooking his leg, believing that at the very least he’ll walk away with that King for a Day opportunity.

The referee drops into position, Princeton’s hand slapping the canvas.

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Riggs is able to get a shoulder up in the nick of time, avoiding being pinned by his wildly rival. The kick-out doesn’t even so much as phase Simon, he’s already right back on his feet and putting his life in the hands, or cables, of the ring ropes.

He jumps over Savior, lunges into the nearby turnbuckle, lands across the back of his knees on the conjoining ropes and goes into a corkscrew moonsault. He connects right across Savior’s ribs and promptly hooks the leg for the pinfall, on the verge of not only becoming King for a Day, but also walking away with one half of the Tag Team Titles.

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The crowd is so dazzled by that last aerial maneuver that they barely even notice Christian putting his foot on the bottom rope, thus preserving his distinction as IWC’s first lone tag team champion.

Mark: Cagero with two amazing moves generated from the ropes, but unable to put down either opponent. He really wants to leave tonight with something to show for his trouble.

Simon wills himself to his feet before turning to spot Katelyn Buehler, the only opponent he’s yet to get his hands on, high tailing it from the ring. She crawls desperately under the ropes and spills across her back on the outside mats. That’s when she starts to wiggle under the ring, trying to hide herself from her victimizers.

Unfortunately she finds her leg snapped on something, keeping her from fully hiding herself. She looks over her shoulder to see what she’s caught on, only to realize that her ankle is trapped in Cagero’s clutches. Simon shakes his head with a smile on his face.

Simon: Don’t think so sweet cheeks, that ass is mine.

Katelyn becomes even more desperate to climb under the ring, now trying to get out of Simon’s clutches. She doesn’t have the strength to free herself though, Cagero tugging on the leg and forcing her out from under the squared circle. Luckily for Katelyn, she grabbed hold of something in her struggle and now employs it as a weapon.

She turns and unleashes a blinding spray of C02 from a fire extinguisher right into Simon’s eyes. A groan emanates from Cagero who turns away from Buehler while stooping over, trying desperately to clear the spray from his damaged pupils.

All the while Buehler is climbing back under the ring, this time getting all the way under it without her progress being impeded. Simon is still swiping his palms at his eyes, having no idea that Riggs is charging across the ring and diving through the ropes into a suicide tope con-hilo. He flips over, his back slamming into Simon’s chest as both men crash across the mats to a rousing reaction from the crowd.

Mark: Riggs throwing his body into Cagero with no regard for his own well being.

Michelle: Is it customary for a woman to propose to a man?

Comeau: I think Riggs is already spoken for. I mean he arrived with a very attractive young lady earlier tonight, although I’m unsure of what their relationship is.

On the opposite side of the ring, Katelyn pokes her head out from under the tarp hanging from the apron. She seems relieved to have gotten away from Cagero, but now looks up and realizes that she’s ended up at the feet of Porno Lad. The crimson drenched face of her ex glares down upon her with malice, sinister eyes.

Mark: Uh oh…..Buehler just jumped straight from the heat into the heart of the fire.

Katelyn again pleads only to have Porno Lad snatch her by the hair, force her out from under the ring and then charge her straight at the announce table. This time it’s her head that thuds against the table, causing her body to loose all senses as she turns and crashes to the mats.

Blacker: Is it wrong of me to wish I was an announce table?

Comeau: Everything about you is wrong.

Michelle: Awesome.

Although he’s all discombobulated Porno Lad continues to feed off raw emotion. It’s his rage that compels him to limp towards the steps, kicking away the top half and grabbing the lower section. He painstakingly slides it across the mats so that it’s in line with Katelyn’s barely conscious body. Obviously he intends to use it as a prop to further dish out punishment.

He’s not the only one busting out some weapons however, because Riggs is now reaching under the ring, dragging a wooden table into play.

Mark: Here we go, things really escalating in this impromptu Five Way Fray. And here I thought the level of violence had already reached its peak.

Michelle: Your standards are far, FAR too low.

It seems that Porno Lad will get the first use out of his toy, already having it positioned and already grabbing hold of his impending victim. With the new N.H.B Champion’s hair gripped in his hand, Porno Lad wobbles towards the steps, turning his back in their direction.

He has no idea that Christian is crawling around the ring behind him, and using the turnbuckle post to aid his battered body to its feet. Savior realizes that there are never opportunities this perfect, Porno Lad’s back turned, a bullseye forming on his spine.

The Rising Phoenix almost salivates at the thought of uncoiling his wrath on the preoccupied Porno Lad. He knows that with just one fatal maneuver he can completely eliminate one of his opponents. Finally he rushes across the mats, steps onto the lower portion of the steel stairs and uses them as a launching pad.

He lunges into the air just as Porno Lad turns around being caught around the back of the neck, both knees wedged to his face.

Obviously Savior is going for that dreaded Code Breaker variation, but once again he underestimated Porno Lad. The Prankster catches Christian quickly around the back of his knees, throws him up onto his shoulders and powerbombs him down spine first right across the stairs.

Comeau: POWERBOMB onto the steps! I have no idea how Porno Lad was able to counter Savior’s code breaker into that maneuver. This guy is so incredibly lucky.

Blacker: Thank you Porno Lad, that was quite gratifying as well.

Savior bridges his back from the stairs, eyes wide open, mouth gaping and muscles trembling as pain vibrates through every inch of his body. The crowd screams so loud that they almost faint.

Meanwhile, Riggs is stomping away over and over again like an out of control Tasmanian Devil at the body of Cagero, Simon desperately trying to get his hands up to protect him. Riggs spits at his palms then approaches the table, grabbing hold of it and using his sudden burst of energy to slide the wood into the ring.

His focus returns to the ailing Cagero, the controversial competitor having crawled to his elbows and knees. Riggs swoops in quickly only to have his legs snatched out from under him by the resilient Cagero.

Simon turns his back towards the ring and with Riggs desperately trying to free himself drops back into a catapult. Riggs is launched at the ring only to somehow LAND feet first on the apron, grabbing the middle rope to steady himself.

This feat by Riggs actually renders Simon SPEECHLESS, frightening, yes. He gets to his feet just in time for Riggs to flip over, going for a moonsault off the apron that would surely obliterate Simon’s chances at victory.

Cagero quickly clears out of the way though, causing Riggs to alter his move at the last second and instead land on his feet. He stabilizes himself then charges at Simon who props himself against the apron, only to step away from it and drill Riggs to the jaw with a stinging superkick.

The sound of the strike echoes throughout the arena and leaves Riggs teetering, somehow remaining upright although it appears that the kick has destroyed every last one of his remaining brain-cells. Finally Simon takes him by the back of his head and rolls him into the ring, Riggs now at HIS mercy.

Mark: Cagero with a superkick rendering Riggs nearly void of consciousness. This may be just the opportunity that Simon requires to become King for a Day, a position which would allow him to seemingly insert himself into whatever match he wants on the next Riot!, whether it be for a title or not.

Blacker: If he does become President for just one Riot! I hope he books about a billion cage matches. The more bloody and violent, the more horny I get. And I think that’s how Simon would want his employees.

Mark: Erm Yeeeaaahhh, all he’d need to give me then is a Playboy and some Skittles.

As if Porno Lad’s body hasn’t already withstood enough trauma tonight he’s now about to inflict so more on HIMSELF. He climbs up to the apron, positioning himself across it and glaring down at Christian who is immobile on the steps.

Mark: Porno Lad, don’t……DON’T! Think before you do something you’ll regret!

Obviously the thought center of Porno Lad’s brain is either severally damaged or just shut off because he now leaps into the air for a frog splash. At the last second, Buehler grabs Christian by the wrist and pulls him off of the stairs, causing Porno Lad to crash stomach and chest first into the steel.

Comeau: I knew it! I knew that move was ill-advised, and now it’s cost Porno Lad dearly.

Michelle: And here I thought I couldn’t get anymore turned on.

Porno Lad now finds himself spread across steel barely capable of moving so much as an eyelash. His body so fatigued and warped by pain that literally every inch of him is hurting. Buehler sparing Savior from the splash had nothing to do with concern for his own well being, she just realized how prudent it was to take Porno Lad out of this encounter, increasing her chances of victory exponentially.

Whether he was saved for noble or more dastardly causes is irrelevant to Savior, seeing as Buehler bicep is traveling towards his throat. Christian side steps the inbound fist, catches Katelyn around the ankle with his feet and drop toe holds her down face first into the stairs as well.

Mark: Buehler eating the stairs, feeling what she just subjected Porno Lad to.

Blacker: See, there can be romance in violence.

Comeau: How the hell can former lovers being brutalized with the same weapon possibly be considered romance?

Blacker: Are you kidding? That’s my idea of soft core porn.

Christian’s pace quickens, moving swiftly to the time keeper and removing them from their chair. Before the pointless employee can even speak up he’s being pie faced to the floor and his chair is snatched up into Christian’s grubby palm.

Mark: Christian’s got something twisted in mind.

Without even thinking about it Savior lifts the chair above his head and uses it to sandwich Porno Lad’s skull between two layers of steel. The stairs and the chair squash the prankster’s head like it were a melon.

Comeau: AHHHH, that did it, that absolutely did it. Porno Lad has to not only be done, but he NEEDS to be rushed to a hospital immediately. Who knows what kind of damage that just inflicted.

Blacker: My nipples are hardening just at the thought of it.

Porno Lad doesn’t even convulse, or writhe in pain, his bloodied head remains stationary across the top of the chair, no longer sending impulses throughout the rest of his body. Savior realizes that he may have crippled Porno Lad, and the thought makes him smile.

The grin is lost the moment he spots Buehler trying to stand up, prompting him to drop the chair and use his fists as a weapon.

Mark: Dammit, someone get medical help out here for Porno Lad NOW!

Inside of the ring Cagero has finally finished setting up the table, the very item that he intends to put Riggs through. What he hadn’t counted on was his rival’s extremely thick head, Riggs able to recover from the superkick and already rise to a knee.

Simon charges in, fist after fist nailing Riggs in the forehead, trying to take him right back down.

Simon: Stay on your knees you sadistic Michael Jackson FUCK!

A handful of Riggs’ hair is taken and he is dragged to his feet right before the Painted Warrior takes his opponent by the wrist and whips him into the ropes. Cagero hops over the cables just before he hits them, lands on the apron, then grabs the top rope, springs to it and flies off into a hurricarana.

He lands right on top of Riggs’ shoulders and drops back, attempting to take him down to the canvas once again. Instead of another display of agility, Riggs shows his strength, keeping his feet planted and his back straight. It takes all the power he has left in his weary muscles to lift Simon back up into a powerbomb position.

He then pushes down on the knees and twists his body so that Cagero is taken from that powerbomb predicament and placed in a fireman’s carry. Finally Riggs pushes up on the stomach, twists Cagero around onto a single shoulder and finally ceases all the crazy contortions.

He’s only stopped though, not to keep Simon from upchucking his lunch, but because he has him in position for the Hopskotch.

Mark: Amazing, Riggs reversed the hurricarana and has now got Simon in position for his Michinoku Driver.

Blacker: I hope it busts Simon wide open. Ewwww, yeeeeaaahhh.

The crowd is rising to their feet, equally as astonished as the commentators by this reversal of fortunes, Riggs on the verge of hitting a move that would all but quell any fight remaining in Simon’s body.

He takes Cagero by the back of the head and pulls down on it to deliver the maneuver, only to wow the audience himself. He flips forward out of the Michinoku Driver and lands right on his feet.

Comeau: Are you….WOW!?!

Simon rushes forward into the ropes, springs off and comes back in at Riggs who throws a last ditch lariat. The clothesline is missed, Simon ducking right under it, then leaping on top of the far cables. With no hesitation he flips off the top rope into a 450 splash that connects on the brawling yet unsuspecting Buehler and Savior at ringside. All three competitors tumble to the mats amongst an explosive ovation from the fans.

Comeau: 450 TO THE OUTSIDE by Simon Cagero!!!

Michelle: Interesting, but not nearly bloody enough.

That last dive by the incredibly agile Cagero has got the everyone’s lungs almost bursting thanks to their screams. They can barely catch their breathe due to all this tremendous action, witnessing death defying maneuver after death defying maneuver. Although some of them may have to be carted away hooked to oxygen tanks, they can’t stop screaming, their adrenaline not allowing it.

Mark: These fans in Las Vegas…I bet….I bet they never expected to see something like this tonight.

A pile of bodies are strewn at ringside, casualties in an uncontrollable environment, one spawned from egotism, desire, and betrayal. Riggs, the only person still conscious it seems, looses patience, already slipping through the ropes to the apron. His eyes survey all four of his opponents, trying to figure out which one is particularly deserving of his wrath.

Finally a smile that would back down even a hissing cobra comes across his face. His hands sink into the hair of Savior, who he drags to his feet and rolls under the ropes, obviously having something to prove to his long time rival.

Mark: Out of four possibilities, I think Riggs chose the right person to focus his hostilities upon, and with that table set up in the ring we could see Christian go through some wood.

Michelle: Really, only through a table? That’s not nearly fun enough. Can’t they throw something else on there, like for instance, these…..

Comeau: Michelle, what the hell are you doing? What’s THAT!?!

Blacker: Yooooouuuu whoooooo….evil guy in the scary clown paint….

Riggs turns his attention away from Savior in the ring just in time to spot Michelle holding up a black sack, jingling it around almost giddily.

Mark: What the hell did you bring out here with you? What are you trying to give Riggs? ANSWER ME!

Riggs is intrigued enough by Michelle’s antics to be pulled into her web. He grabs the sack, peeks in then gives a wink towards Blacker that causes her heart to flutter. Whatever may be in the sack is about to be used as a weapon, a potentially fatal one considering who’s hands its in.

Michelle: There, that ought too make things more interesting.

Mark: How long have you had that sack under the announce table?

Blacker: Shhhh, I’ve been waiting for this moment all night…ooooooh BOY, I might need a towel.

Comeau: And serious therapy. This is the first time I can remember a member of the commentary team actually supplying a wrestler with a weapon. I hope you realize what you’ve just did, this is literally the last time you’ll ever be sitting in that snug chair.

Michelle: It’ll be worth it, and I plan on stealing the chair anyhow.

Once inside of the ring Riggs looks over the crowd, their anticipation building as they wait to find out what’s inside of the sack. Knowing Michelle the way they do, they prepare themselves for something truly grizzly, knowing that Savior is going to have plenty of scars after this one.

The sack is opened finally and their question is answered when shards of broken glass and thumbtacks begin to spill across the canvas.

Mark: Oh Michelle, you FREAK!

Blacker: Yaaaaaaayyyyy….

She can be heard clapping and hopping around in her seat like a twelve year old girl just given a pony for her birthday. Riggs spreads out the tacks and glass with his foot, ensuring that it makes a cozy resting place for anyone about to take a dirt nap.

Comeau: What you’ve just done Michelle is risk the careers of one of these wrestlers just for some cheap thrills?

Blacker: YEP! Gotta get my jollies somehow.

Riggs now steps towards Christian, grabs him by his puffy hair and drags him across his knees towards the bed of tacks and shards of glass. He starts to hoist him up into the air in order to drop him Hopskotch style right through the weapons, only to have Savior’s will to live kick in.

He slips off of Riggs’ back, drops down behind him and hooks him around the leg, pulling him over into the school boy. Riggs rolls right through however, ending up on his feet, backing into the ropes then launching himself off into the shinning wizard.

Christian just barely drops down to his back in time to prevent being nailed with it. As a result of missing the move the still standing Riggs finds himself subjected to a reverse roll up. Savior reaches up, wraps his arms around his opponent’s waist and pulls him down onto the back of his shoulders. He sits up wedging his shoulders to the creases of the Painted Warrior’s knees, perfecting this modified pin.

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Riggs launches a shoulder from the canvas and once again rolls backwards to his feet. He charges into the cables a second time, hoping on this exchange his efforts will prove a bit more futile. THEY DON’T. He walks right into Christian who lunges into the air, catches him around the neck and goes for the diamond cutter.

Mark: Savior going for the knock out!

At the last second Riggs pushes Savior off, sending him flying towards the tacks and glass. Somehow Christian has the good sense to shift his weight and land on his feet mere inches removed from the very items that threaten his career and LIFE.

He desperately swings his arms to remain upright and to keep from plunging forward into a whole heap of trouble.

Mark: Christian just barely saving himself from sheer disaster.

Blacker: Awwww….this sucks.

Riggs quickly steps in while Savior is still concerned only with self preservation and boots him to the back of the knee. Christian almost trips over backwards only to be placed in a dragon sleeper then hoisted into a reverse suplex. Riggs releases in mid-air and allows Savior to drop ribs first right across his shoulder, once again in perfect position for the Hopskotch.

This time Christian slips off of his shoulder though and lands on his feet behind the Painted Warrior. In desperation Savior shrugs Riggs forward, having no idea that Cagero is now laying in wait. Simon rushes in and catches Riggs as he stumbles forward, wrapping his arm right around his neck then dropping back into a modified downward spiral.

Riggs’ flesh is ripped by the shards of glass and embedded with tacks, causing the blood to now flow.

Mark: Break the Silence right into the glass and tacks! Cagero had that perfectly set up and now Riggs may need facial reconstructive surgery!

Michelle: Oh wow, oh wow, OH WOW! That was everything I expected it to be and more. Oh well, bored now.

Small slivers of glass protrude from Riggs’ forehead right along side the shimmering tacks. He rolls to his back, looking like a human pin cushion, pierced more than a scary biker.

The crowd is already upright once again, their legs not even getting tired after all the standing they’ve done thus far. With fists pumping in the air and their throats growing horse they start in with a rousing “IWC” chant.

Riggs may not have much cause for celebration, but the sight of his face will forever be seared into the memories of all the fans packed into that building. While Simon would normally use this opportunity to go for a pin, victory all but ensured given Riggs’ condition, he instead transfers his attention to Christian.

Savior rises to his elbows and knees, a clear cut indicator for Cagero that the Rising Phoenix would certainly have the power to thwart any pin attempt. Therefore Simon moves in to remove him from the equation by stepping up onto his back.

Simon momentarily pretends to be riding the crawling Christian like he were a surfboard. This delights the crowd who suddenly wish they had some type of melody provided by the Beach Boys to complete the cheesy effect. Cagero cuts short the fun though by back flipping off of Christian’s spine and going for a moonsault.

Savior rolls out of the way in the nick of time though, causing Simon to surprisingly land on his feet. The added height of standing on Savior’s back supplied Simon with more than enough time to alter his move and get his legs under him. As soon as he lands, stumbling and staggering to get his bearings, Savior charges in and almost rips him in two with the spear.

Mark: He hit it….he hit it….my God, Christian hit the Blaze of Glory! Will it be enough to salvage a victory out of a night that has gone wrong for him on so many levels?

Christian falls into the lateral press, both legs being hooked, desperate to not only retain his title but earn the right to be the very first King for a Day.

The referee slides into position, answering Christian’s prayers as he slaps the canvas.

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3!

Savior has done the impossible, achieving victory in one of the most physically taxin…..NO, Cagero KICKED OUT!

Mark: No FRIGGIN way did Simon just kick out.

Michelle: Yeah, yeah, whatever. Will someone please go back to using my thumbtacks?

Christian is paralyzed by shock, his jaw almost hitting the floor when he realized that Cagero kicked out of his most lethal maneuver. As he slowly rises to his feet, Christian has absolutely no idea that the poorly trained Buehler is rolling into the ring behind him.

Katelyn is stooped over in anticipation, her fingers twiddling, her tongue licking her lips almost as if she were salivating. Once Christian gets all the way to his feet, Buehler charges up behind him, takes the back of his head and goes for the dreaded one handed bulldog.

Christian is quick and talented enough to shove Katelyn off, sending her charging at the table. She has to twist her body, roll sideways over the wood and land on the opposite side. She keeps on running, bouncing off of the ropes and once again ricocheting off towards the table.

At the last second she jumps into the air, lands on the table then springs off and onto Christian, taking him down with the Lou Thez Press. The crowd is actually amazed that Katelyn was competent to pull this off, although they’ve been stunned by her actions all night it seems.

Comeau: I think this may be the first offensive maneuver that Buehler has delivered the entire match.

Blacker: And even she refused to include the use of my glass. Jeez, I feel like a lepper.

Fist after fist connects with Christian’s cheek and temple, rattling his brain in his already aching skull. She immediately rises to her feet and the vicious vixen drags Christian right along beside her. She pulls him up and takes him around the neck, turning towards the last remnants of tack and glass.

Michelle: That’a girl!

Buehler: HIIIIIYYYYAAA!

Before she can flip Christian over into the tacks with a snapmare, a chair cracks her right in the ribs. The very item that was used to shorten his career is now employed by Porno Lad as a weapon.

Mark: There’s no way, there is NO WAY that Porno Lad is getting himself physically involved in this match again. Is it going to take a bolt of lightning from God to finally put him down for good?

Blacker: Hmmm, that sounds very arousing.

Buehler flops to her side, kicking her legs and wrapping her arms around her gut, looking like she’s about to cough up a lung. Her assailant continues to wobble back and forth above her, Porno Lad desperately trying to keep at least one foot rooted to the canvas.

After all the blows to his head and his extreme loss of blood, he finds it almost impossible to remain upright. And now he finds himself in Christian’s crosshairs yet again. After being spared the snapmare, Savior backs into the ropes, bounces gently from them but turns his momentum into a full sprint.

He dives at Porno Lad for the spear only to have the Prankster side step him while holding the chair up into the air. Christian’s head goes through the steel, forcing the chair to unfold itself into a sitting position. Christian collapses to his knees with his head stuck completely through the upright chair, neck sandwiched in the middle of the back and the seat.

Mark: Savior went for the spear and hit stee……RIGGS IS BACK UP!

Porno Lad has not even the sparsest second to gather himself before he’s grabbed by the back of the head, charged at the table and slammed face first off of the wood by a recovered Riggs. The Painted Warrior who is now bleeding himself and finds his legs equally as unwilling to cooperate with his body as his last victim, tries to snap his brain back into action.

He tears some glass out of his face and pitches it into the wind before spotting Savior in his predicament. He doesn’t hold back from stepping in, hooking both of Christian’s arms and lifting him up into the air, chair and all. With the sat up chair still wrapped about Christian’s head, Riggs falls to his seat and pulls him down with a devastating double arm DDT.

The legs of the chair hit the canvas, adding greater impact and trauma when Christian’s face crunches against the steel seat.

Mark: OHHHH JESUS H. CHRIST!!

Blacker: You sweet talker.

Comeau: Savior……he may have just been…..I don’t even know how to describe what just happened. An implant double arm DDT being nailed with that chair still stuck around Christian’s head. This match has gotten beyond depraved.

It takes some maneuvering, but Riggs is finally able to pull Savior’s head out of the chair into a school boy. The fans realizing that the bloodied, fatigued warrior may have the very pin he’s been waiting for, for so very long. He doesn’t even care about the repercussions of having to defend the tag titles alongside one of his greatest antagonist The fans are especially emotional as they count along with each slap of the canvas.

1

2

3!

The Hard Rock Café will have to do some remodeling after the celebration from the fans, the walls shaking thanks to the decibel of their screams. Their reaction only gets louder though, when they find out that Savior actually kicked out.

Mark: This is beyond unfathomable.

The crowd is going nuts over the level of violence that gives them such great joy. This explicit content has them so intoxicated they’re ready to urinate on themselves. Even lukewarm piss running down their legs wouldn’t be enough to derail their focus off the action in the ring.

Riggs, body in extreme pain, rises to his feet, limping backwards into the ropes. It hurts for him to even look up, a tack embedded just above one of his eyelids. Somehow he can see Simon standing up across the ring though, even as blood spills into his pupils, turning the milky white around them crimson red.

With an act that can only be described as DAZZLIN’, Riggs charges at the chair, steps off it and launches himself into the shinning wizard right to Cagero’s face.

Mark: INCREDIBLE!

Michelle: Why must you get so excited? I’m the one supposed to be turned on by violence, remember?

Comeau: You make it pretty difficult for us to forget. It’s hard not to react to these moves Riggs is hitting, they’re jaw dropping.

With his body aching, bruised and pierced by a number of foreign bodies, Riggs crawls into the lateral press. He wedges his forearm against the very face he just mangled with the shinning wizard. As the ref slaps the canvas the crowd once again rises to its feet, ready to unleash an emotional, Hard Rock Café demolishing reaction.

1

2

Porno Lad’s elbow to the back of Riggs’ head breaks up the three count and has the fans once again reeling. They do a double take, having to look twice in order to make sure they aren’t hallucinating. Their eyes are not deceiving them, Porno Lad did indeed have the strength to break up the pin.

Mark: Where is Porno Lad getting this from? Anybody else would have had to be carted out on a stretcher by now.

Michelle: Hmmmm, in retrospect I wouldn’t take him on as a client….I prefer having men I can break. There’s nothing more gratifying than hearing a grown man cry.

Comeau: Yeah, I tend to do that after listening to a Lord X promo.

The fans are flushed with excitement, their cheeks rosy red, just like the bright crimson streaming down Porno Lad’s face. He looks out from behind a mask of crimson as Riggs tries to stand up in front of him. He gets to his feet and finds the strength deep down inside to hop over Simon’s body, charging at the prankster for a lariat.

Porno Lad catches him around the ankle, somehow still possessing the braincells to counter with a drop toe hold. To make this move all the more dangerous and career shortening, Riggs is tripped face first into the very table he just bashed Porno Lad’s face against moments earlier.

Riggs collapses to his back, the tacks further embedded into his flesh at this point.

Mark: Porno Lad still hanging in there. He’s putting in a legendary effort, the type of effort you only hear about in mythological novels.

The convulsing body of Riggs is left to….well…..convulse. Porno Lad’s focus has shifted to the now conscious Cagero. Simon is somehow able to get to his feet, although he doesn’t have the slightest clue where he is. That shinning wizard continues to have his brain all scrambled, feeling more ditzy than Paris Hilton.

Even in his almost unconscious state, Porno Lad realizes this, setting up for the Epic Fail. Cagero slowly turns towards him when Porno Lad spins around to deliver his dreaded kick only to be shocked when his boot misses its mark.

He whips around like he just saw a ghost, his face pale white due to both astonishment and severe loss of blood. He turns just in time for a groggy Simon to catch him, setting for the Break the Silence.

Mark: Break the Silence about to put an end to Porno Lad!

Blacker: A gruesome end at that, yippee.

Simon drops back for the move but Porno Lad keeps his feet planted like they were roots in soil. As a result Cagero crashes to his back, finding no reward for his troubles. He rolls in reverse as quickly as his exhausted body will allow, getting to his feet just in time to be drilled to the jaw with the Epic Fail.

Comeau: No…it’s the Epic Fail that connects instead.

Simon staggers backwards and falls over the table, body being served up like a meal to a chubby family. Not only does Porno Lad want to partake in the smorgasbord, but he’s coming back for seconds. He starts up a nearby turnbuckle, his foot slipping off of the ropes several times, his back aimed towards his target, the prone Cagero.

Mark: Now this is just ludicrous. The last time Porno Lad went for this move it proved devastating for him, hopefully, for our announce table’s sake, history doesn’t repeat itself.

Michelle: I’m keeping this announce table by the way. The surface has still got an imprint of Porno Lad’s face on it, and I can tie to a mannequin and pretend I’m torturing him endlessly.

Comeau: I wish I could say that was the most perverse thing I’ve ever heard…..

With his face soaked by blood, which has now spread to his chest, the former N.H.B Champion continues his heroic struggle to reach the top rope. A struggle so heroic it would even make He-Man jealous. As if he were calling forth the power of the universe, Porno Lad reaches the very top rope, glancing over his shoulder to ensure Simon is still in position.

Mark: Porno Lad going for the greatest reward for the biggest risk.

He is about to perform a dazzling aerial move putting Cagero through a table but instead launches himself to the outside of the ring. Katelyn Buehler had just regained consciousness only to slip right back into a coma thanks to Porno Lad crashing into her with a crossbody.

Comeau: BRRRAAAAA….

Blacker: How lovely.

Mark: Porno Lad killing himself to take out Katelyn, continuing to get revenge against her at the sake of his own physical well being.

If Porno Lad didn’t have broken ribs and internal injuries before, now it be impossible if he doesn’t. He rolls around curled up into a fetal position while Buehler does the same, gasping desperately for air. The former lovers look entirely spent after the brutality they’ve dished out against one another, leaving them now no more than spectators to the action in the ring. Action that is escalating thanks to Riggs picking up where Porno Lad left off.

He’s now scaling the same turnbuckle from the outside, careful to keep an eye on the crafty Cagero.

Mark: It looks like Riggs is now going to be the one to put Simon through that table, end this match, and walk away as King for a Day.

Riggs reaches the very top rope, brushing blood out of his eyes with the back of his hand. He seems to be suffering from double vision and vertigo thanks to having his equilibrium badly damaged throughout the course of this match. Nevertheless he plants his feet and flies through the air for the senton bomb, the crowd flying out of their seats at the same time.

Mark: YEEEEAAHHH…noooooo.

At the last second Christian intervenes by grabbing Simon’s wrist and sitting him up on the table. As a result Riggs slams back first through the table, the wood shattering all around his now obliterated body. Christian releases Simon’s wrist just in time to let him collapse backwards onto Riggs’ sternum.

Comeau: What the hell? Savior just lived up to his last name by saving Cagero from the senton bomb! Riggs went right through that table!!

Blacker: That was nice of Christian, which means I now hate him. I could have seen TWO people suffer, now I only got to see one break.

The crowd is still shocked by Riggs’ departure from this plain after that sickening crash through the table. A crash that leaves him incapable of putting up a fight against Cagero’s pinfall. He can hear the crowd screaming and the ref’s hand slapping the canvas but he’s powerless to do anything about it.

1

2

3!

The Las Vegas crowd unleashes quite the ovation, thinking this match would never end, not that they haven’t been thrilled by every second of it. Cagero remains spread spine first across Riggs’ shattered body, unaware that he just won this match. As soon as his eyes open and his ears become attune to the sounds around him, he’s shocked to hear his music playing through the PA system.

Mark: After perhaps one of the most insane matches in IWC lore, Simon Cagero emerges as the first King for a Day….and…..and…..it’s all thanks to Christian Savior?

Blacker: I guess Christian really does have a heart of gold. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to continue filling out this list of demands for Simon to approve, seeing as he’ll be the first King for a Day. Hmmm, let’s see, what am I missing? Oh yes, “muzzle for Mark.”

She continues scribbling in her notepad while the fans continue expressing both joy and confusion over the conclusion of this main event. When Simon sits up he finds himself equally as bewildered, grabbing at his swollen jaw and having no earthly idea of how he could have possibly just won this match.

Things become much clearer when he looks up and spots a sweat soaked Christian standing over him. Savior may be suffering from extreme fatigue but nothing will remove the ever so bright smile from his face. A smile so bright it could light a airplane runway. A smile that would make Helen Keller wear shades.

To further complicate matters, as if Savior’s smile weren’t bad enough, his outstretched palm is waiting for Cagero to take hold of it. Simon doesn’t take the palm, nor does he even consider it. The fact that Christian is making such a gesture just wants to make Cagero vomit all over the Hard Rock Café.

Finally Savior lowers his hand, and even though he finds it difficult to breath he’s still able to squeak out a few words.

Christian: That’s okay Silencer, you don’t have to take my hand. But now that I made you King for a Day, you WILL owe me.

Christian takes a powder, struggling towards the ropes, slipping through to the sounds of fans booing and bones cracking. He stops on the apron, looking one last time over the ropes at a still perplexed Cagero. The smile returns to Christian’s face, thinking he’s turned Simon into nothing more than an indentured servant, indebted to him for all but ensuring he emerged victorious from this match.

Mark: Another amazing confrontation ending in confusion here tonight, thanks to Christian, but let’s not let his antics overshadow what was perhaps the most amazing main event in IWC pay-per-view history. Four of the absolute best, and Katelyn Buehler, just put on a show that I’ll never be able to forget.

Blacker: I illegally recorded it, so I’ll always have it for posterity sakes. Well, that and a whole bunch of German fetish porn.

The crowd is justly giving this bout a standing ovation, thoroughly captivated by the performances of each competitor. Whether it was Porno Lad, sporting a bloody wound thanks to his involvement in the match, or Riggs, who may be incapable of walking for days due to plunge through the table, Simon, who sits abnormally quiet, Buehler, who’s participation was not only forced but proves to be a major regret on her part, or Savior, who despite victory still walks away feeling like a winner.

Mark: What we’ve just witnessed tonight was history ladies and gentlemen. These will be moments than transcend time and space itself. And now we’re left with so many burning questions as we head back to the Manhattan Center.

Michelle: Awww, Las Vegas is so much sleazier than New York though. Here I can legally abuse whores.

Comeau: Well we’ve certainly seen a lot of abuse here ton…..HEY!

Before Mark could even finish his statement he abruptly cuts himself off at the sight of a recovered Riggs attacking a still distracted Cagero. Somehow the Painted Warrior regained consciousness right in time to capitalize on Simon’s lack of focus.

Just as Cagero rose to his feet, allowing himself just a moment to celebrate his victory, Riggs crawls from the wreckage behind him and delivers a low blow straight to the crotch.

Mark: Wait a minute, how did Riggs come through after that sickening crash through the table? These guys really are superhuman.

Cagero tumbles to his knees, hands clutching at his battered crotch, which seems to be the focal point of many assaults in the ring tonight. Riggs’ attack isn’t over yet though, because he picks up the very weapon that led to his destruction, holding a large chunk of wood in hand long enough to break it over Simon’s back.

Cagero tumbles to his stomach, now writhing in an ungodly amount of pain.

Mark: Riggs looks as if he’s absolutely snapped. For the second show in a row he’s attacking Cagero.

With wood chips now piercing his spine Simon tries desperately to stand up. He gets to his feet, still crouched forward tending to his nether regions when Riggs scoops him up into the air. All his pain is pushed aside by rage, Riggs using his anger to deliver the Hopskotch, putting Simon spine first into the glass and tacks.

Mark: HOLY JESUS!

Michelle: Ohhhhh baby, keep shouting like that PLEASE!

The fans are as floored by Riggs’ behavior as are the commentators and the boys and girls backstage. Everyone is riveted if not disgusted by the actions of the Painted Warrior, taking out his frustrations on the man who just pinned him moments ago. Although Riggs takes a moment to sit and finally convalesce his wounds, he cannot stop himself from enjoying his handiwork, listening to Simon’s screams of pain and the despair of the sold out crowd. The reaction from both the fans and Simon leave Riggs laughing maniacally as Upping the Ante fades out.

FADE TO BLACK