WHODUNIT?

Instead of some over the top, film spoofing opening credits, the IWC fans are instead treated to an entirely different image at the onset of the pay-per-view.

One end of a handcuff is clamped to a steel barricade, and the other end is attached to a wrist.

Mark Comeau: Ladies and gentlemen welcome to the Overbooked Extravaganza. And your about as clueless as I am over what we’re seeing here.

The camera continues to lower until it’s settled on the bloodied face of Jackson Adams. Crimson gushes down his features from a large open wound in his forehead, a huge welt forming just beside his cracked flesh. His cuffed wrist is the only thing holding him up, his body propped spine first against a portion of barricade positioned backstage.

Mark: Jackson Adams has been attacked by somebody in that hallway. This is not the way we wanted to open the pay-per-view ton….and look, there’s even more.

Now the camera is drawn from the unconscious Adams to the laid out Pat Evans. Just a few inches removed from Jackson’s side rests the body of the Tag Team Champion, a bludgeoned, bloodied Evans sprawled across the concrete. His head is ripped open from scalp to eyebrow, a puddle of blood forming around it. The motivation behind this attack and the identity of the culprit becomes much clearer when a steel pipe is shown slanted from the floor to Evans’ temple.

Comeau: And Pat Evans has been taken out too! What’s going on?

Both men’s bodies continue to gasp for breathe and spew more blood than a hemophiliac punched in the nose.

PPV OPENING

A subway car comes to a halt, the doors open, people begin to filter in.

Each individual that steps aboard is covered by matching vests of the red leather variety.

What appears to be some type of gang insignia is drawn with surprising precision across their backs.

They situate themselves on the metro, some grabbing the hand rails and others taking a seat. Two bald and menacing men stand closest to the doors, which slowly close, sealing the gang inside and revealing the graffiti staining the exterior wall.

The subway train takes off, fluorescent bulbs shinning down from the ceiling of the tunnel.

Once outside of the tunnel windows flash quickly by the camera, giving little time to see what’s happening inside. A breathtaking view of the black sky, a tower penetrating the clouds, and a brightly lit Ferris-wheel can be seen behind the train which now builds momentum.

The two menacing men previously mentioned have taken a seat and begun talking even though the music is too loud to hear what is being said.

Kingdom: Do we really have to go to Philly? I kind of have this phobia about being stabbed.

A flashback reveals Johnny and AWOL standing in some type of vacant lot, surrounded by nothing but air and the pitch black sky above.

AWOL: Everyone’s going to be there, Johnny, something big is going down.

Kingdom: Wonderful. How much do you want to bet it’s just another ginormous gang clusterfuck?

Two metro cars running parallel tear up the track and speed straight towards the camera. They’re gone in a flash and now images flood the screen featuring Porno Lad and Hurse walking with a group of pimps. They wear purple vests and black fedoras, strutting with hands in pockets down the corridor of a subway.

Porno Lad: We’re going in there with nothing.

Cut to Hurse and Porno Lad standing between what appears to be brightly lit storefront windows.

Hurse: We’re going in like everyone else, two guys, no weapons. Unless you count this bottle of Head & Shoulders. The tingling lets you know it’s working.

A bottle is conveniently raised from Hurse’s interior vest pocket and turned so that the camera can see the label. Porno Lad slowly twists his head to look over his shoulder, crack a grin and give a big thumbs up to the viewers. Obviously he and his partner have just earned a huge product placement bonus.

A metro train’s windows once again pass by the camera at blinding speed.

Back to real time with a bunch of scary mimes going through the turnstiles and gathering outside of a metro train. Riggs and Psycho pull their black suspenders away from their red sweatshirts.

Riggs: You got the stuff?

Now its Psycho and Riggs provided with their own little flashback. They stand in the darkness with what appear to be traffic lights off in the distance behind their backs. In response to Riggs’ question Psycho lifts a sack full of thumbtacks. He pats the bottom and grins sadistically.

Riggs: When we get there I want you to hit everyone in sight.

Psycho winks.

Psycho: Don’t have to tell me twice.

A train races through a boarding and unloading station.

A group of thugs led by Pat Evans and Christian Savior, dressed in black, pass by a large gate with a directional sign posted on it.

The metro car can be seen speeding along the track once more. As if the viewers haven’t seen it enough already.

Cuts back to the Evans, Savior led ruffians marching down a ramp towards the El Train. Savior stops to threaten some innocent bystander with his cocked fist before smirking and walking on.

Evans: You never know what we might run into.

Pat and Savior are standing mono a mono with the brightly lit traffic lights behind their backs.

Evans: And I wouldn’t count on me protecting you.

Savior: Who asked you to protect me?

Video skips back to Christian shoveling a handful of tokens into his palm before approaching the turnstile. He begins to feed the machine while his gang members pass through and board the El Train.

Another obligatory shot of the metro train moving at high speed.

Too Magnificent and Simon Cagero’s backs face the camera as they move through an entrance tunnel, headed for the El Train as well. Both men are covered in bright yellow jackets with the word “FUCK” spelt out across the back. Cagero stops to leap into the air, attempting to smack the ceiling only to realize that he’s too short. Therefore he motions for Too Magnificent, who with a sigh stoops down and cups his hands.

Simon steps onto the hands and is then launched into the air where he slaps the ceiling.

Yet more stock footage of a train moving at a dazzling pace. Great.

Too Magnificent: Maybe we’ll get to WASTE a few fuckers along the way.

With a bright traffic light behind his head Simon contemplates his response before just putting it bluntly.

Simon: Meh’, sounds like fun to me.

Yet another nauseating flash of a train speeding down a track. What a wonderfully repetitive framing device.

Robin Brooks and Jackson Adams are shown making their way up a flight of steps. While Robin wears a green sweater fringed with yellow stripes, Jackson is adorned in a baseball furies ensemble.

Robin: What the hell are you wearing? We’re supposed to match?

Cue to Brooks and Adams standing in the same vacant lot that seems to be the primary meeting place for scumbags the world over.

Adams: COME ON, the baseball furies are so much cooler than the Lizzies. Besides, I doubt anyone is actually going to show up to this thing with us being there.

The next scene shows just how wrong Jackson Adams was in his assumption. A park is filled with gang member after gang member. A regular Rainbow Coalition has been formed, some gathered under an over passing, others standing on the cement stairs, many convened around and hanging off of statues.

Despite their positioning and their affiliations, each gang is focused on the figure who now steps forward. He towers above everyone else, occupying the overpass and wearing a long robe so colorful it would make Elton John jealous.

Orlando: You’re standing here tonight with six delegates! Six of the most ruthless gangs! 20,000 members, and yes, that number is an estimate based mostly on exaggeration….

The Icon gestures towards the sea of humanity gathered before him.

Cruze: But I don’t see 20,000 gang members, I see 20,000 solders. 20,000 solders ready to FIGHT. 20,000 solders looking for their own piece of the pie! 20,000 solders who have all gathered here today to claim what they believe to be theirs. 20,000 solders ready to rise up and wage war not only for bragging rights, no, not a horribly named and entirely irrelevant pay-per-view, but for the most prized possessions in all of Philadelphia. I’m talking about territory, I’m talking about the title of owning those territories. Can you dig it, can you dig it, CAN YOUUUUU DIG IIIIIT!

His arms shoot upward and his palms are outstretched, listening to the roar from the multitude of gangs gathered below.

Orlando: But…we shouldn’t be fighting each other, not for titles, not for territory. We should be rising up against a system that threatens to eradicate us, to exterminate us, to destroy what we hold so dear. A system that sees us as nothing more than roid raging, spandex wearing, oiled up lunatics. It’s time we stood together and we stood up to the mainstream media that stigmatized and generalized us.

Crickets chirping.

Orlando nervously overlooks the dead crowd, who are scratching their heads and shrugging their shoulders. With a sigh he repeats his trademark catchphrase.

Orlando: CAN….YOOUUUUU….DIG……..IIIIITTT.

The shrugging stops and on cue everyone explodes with elation.

Orlando: That is why I am proposing that we all join together. That we put aside our differences here in the City of Brotherly Love. That we come together, that we fight together, that we STAND together.

More crickets chirping.

Cruze: Ugh…..CAN YOU…..

A loud series of gunshots can be heard as Orlando’s body shakes uncontrollably, hundreds upon hundreds of bullets passing through his frame. Before anyone knows what’s happening, Orlando is falling over the side of the overpass and plummeting to the concrete below. There is mass confusion as everyone looks down at the deceased body of the Icon, riddled with gunshots.

Simon: They shot Orlando.

Robin: Think he’s okay?

Evans: Everyone back up, give him some air.

A circle is formed around Orlando’s body, blood pumping out of the thousands of bullet wounds tearing apart his flesh.

AWOL: Stop goldbricking Orlando and walk it off.

A stick protrudes from Christian’s hand and lightly begins to poke at Orlando’s motionless frame.

Porno Lad: I don’t think he’s getting up.

Hurse: If he’s dead then Porno Lad and I call dibs on the body. We’ve always wanted to reenact Weekend at Bernies.

Johnny steps out of the crowd and stoops down towards the decomposing flesh. He leans in close so he can detect whether Orlando is still breathing or not. What he hears isn’t what he expected. Orlando reaches out and grabs Kingdom’s shirt, pulling him down close to his lips so he can listen to his all important words. Everyone else stands as silent as trees, trying to overhear what Orlando is whispering.

All they do hear is his last gasp before his head falls to the concrete and his eyes roll to the back of his skull.

Adams: Well?

Johnny looks into the eyes of those gathered closest to Cruze. The Team Leader almost looks too troubled to repeat what he’s heard.

Kingdom: He said…..DIG IT.

All eyes become shifty, everyone glancing at the people standing around them. After a prolonged awkward silence the gangs suddenly respond.

Gangs: YAAAAAAYYY!

THE OVERBOOKED EXTRAVAGANZA II

Fireworks.

The bright, shinny variety.

They explode from the stage, the turnbuckles, the rafters, they’d even come out of the crowd if there wouldn’t be so many lawsuits.

The stage is made to resemble a subway car, with the doors opening to function as the entry way for the grapplers set to compete. Graffiti litters the side of the car, spelling out the names of several IWC stars and some obscene, vulgar terms, such as poppycock.

Mark Comeau: The IWC is back on pay-per-view, and we are live from the New Alhambra Arena right here in Philly PA, baby.

The camera pans over the excited crowd gathered in the old ECW arena. It apparently didn’t take them very long to learn about the half price beer special at the concession stands.

Mark: This is Mark Comeau, and I’ll be here all night to cover the action. I’m joined this evening by Susie Moore’s surrogate, Axl Evermore. Welcome to the announce table, Axl, pleasure to have you.

Axl Evermore: Thanks, got to do something to supplement my income, and this looked easier than selling Sham Wows.

Comeau: Although I hate the fact that Susie Moore was kidnapped last week, I can’t help to feel a little relieved that I finally have a competent broadcast colleague.

Evermore: You should feel fortunate I wasn’t booked in a match tonight. Although I can’t for the life of me understand why I wasn’t. It’s almost as if the IWC doesn’t like the word “buyrate.”

Mark: I’m sure plenty of people will still be tuning in to watch the Tag Team Gauntlet scheduled for later tonight where six teams will vie for five titles. A match that has already been greatly effected by the beat-down we got a glimpse of before the pay-per-view started.

BFG VS. RICK-ROHL

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

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

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

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

Mark: And we are starting the night off with what promises to be a hard hitting, smash mouth affair. Rick-Rohl, the bodyguard for hire, coming out here to do battle with another bodyguard that he’s crossed paths with as of late, in BFG.

Evermore: What’s the term that’s used most often for matches you know are going to be shitty due to lack of work-rate and twenty minute groping sessions? “Bowling shoe ugly?” Yes, I think that’s what they call these type of matches. Not slamming Rick-Rohl of course, but I don’t think even Shawn Michaels can get a half way decent match out of BFG.

Rick-Rohl continues to strut in the ring much to the delight of the female fans. The dancing stops the second BFG’s entrance music hits the PA system. The generic harmony disrupts any pleasure the fans were getting out of Rick’s gyrations. All attention deviates to the stage where the planet sized BFG is stepping. He has trouble fitting through the subway car doors, forcing them open all the way so he can get out. Once free he proceeds down the ramp looking highly motivated for this encounter.

Axl: And here comes the bastard love child of Big Daddy V and Mark Henry. Why is it that I keep expecting Bill Cosby to pop up and start narrating all of BFG’s actions?

Comeau: BFG has been quite the annoyance to Rick-Rohl as of late. Ever since Rick was brought in by Max Craven to challenge for the Tag Team Titles, BFG has been butting heads with the former dancer. But that all comes to an end when they collide right here, LIVE at the Overbooked Extravaganza.

BFG stops at the steps and slaps the steel with both palms then proceeds up them to the apron. He pauses to give Rick a long, tense stare then enters the ring. The bell chimes to get the anarchy underway.

Mark: And we are underway ladies and gentlemen with the first official match of the night.

Axl: It was good strategy putting Rick-Rohl out first, he could sell any pay-per-view.

Comeau: At this point I don’t think he’s as concerned with buys as much as defeating the hired goon of Katelyn Parkwood. Taking him out now would certainly increase the possibilities of Max Craven walking away the N.H.B Champion tonight.

Axl: Isn’t that already a foregone conclusion?

The giants slowly approach one another before BFG throws all his girth towards the gyrating dancer. They lock up immediately with a collar elbow tie and begin jockeying for positioning.

Evermore: If Rick-Rohl can actually push this Man Mountain Rock, sans charisma or guitar, off of his feet then I’ll give him a whole roll of dollar bills.

Mark: And I see that it didn’t take you very long to start in with the obscure references.

Axl: Come on, I’m like one of the characters from a Quentin Tarantino film, obscure references are my shtick.

BFG buries his feet to the canvas, his extreme weight giving him quite the advantage. Rick-Rohl tries to use his freakish strength to push his opponent back but it proves ineffective. Finally he breaks the collar elbow and both men step back, giving each other a tense glare.

Mark: Five seconds into the match and we already have a standoff.

Evermore: Something tells me there’s going to be more holding in this fight than there was in the Sid Vicious vs El Gigante Stretcher Match.

Mark: Do you just lurk on the Wrestlecrap forums all day long?

Evermore: Pretty much.

After dwelling on their strategies for only a moment they once again tie up with a collar elbow lock. This time it doesn’t take BFG long to shove his opposition spine first into a turnbuckle. He holds him there until official Princeton starts in with a five count. He reaches four just as BFG breaks the hold and delivers a back elbow straight to Rick’s mouth.

Comeau: Cheap shot by BFG.

Rick staggers out of the corner placing his palm to his possibly busted lip before BFG charges up behind him and catches the back of his head with a lariat. The blow almost takes Rick-Rohl from his feet, but his gargantuan opponent makes sure he remains upright. He shoves Rick spine first into the cables, takes his wrist and whips him off across the ring.

The former stripper ricochets from the far cables and then throws himself into the air, flying into a shoulder block. The blow connects with enough force to send BFG scrambling backwards, flailing his arms in a feeble attempt to remain upright, then spilling through the ropes to the outside of the ring.

Mark: WOW! What a shoulder block from Rick-Rohl. That was powerful enough to take BFG right out of the ring.

Evermore: I’m sure BFG’s humungous man-titties provided some cushioning so he should be fine.

The wide BFG lands on his feet and it doesn’t take long for him to start throwing a temper tantrum. He slaps the apron with both palms then begins wheezing as he approaches the barricade. He reaches over and grabs a bag of popcorn from one of the fans. Before the young man can protest BFG has already engulfed half of the popcorn, in desperate need of some nutrients.

Axl: If I were that fan I’d keep my hands away from BFG’s mouth. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone actually INHALE food before.

After filling his face with popcorn, some of the kernels still stuck to his cheeks and lips, BFG looks for something to wash it down with. He snatches hold of a female fan’s large Coke, tears off the lid and straw and begins to pouring it down his throat.

Evermore: At the very least I think BFG has just increased sales at the concession booths.

Mark: It must take a lot of food and drink to keep this guy going.

Rick-Rohl has seen enough. He departs the ring, steps up behind BFG and takes hold of his shoulder. The big man quickly swings around and slams the half empty cup straight into his opponent’s face. Rick turns away, his eyes saturated by Coca-Cola and now stinging. As soon as Rick turns away BFG wedges his hands to the spine of his opponent and shoves the dancer forward into the exposed turnbuckle post.

Rick bounces off of the steel and then goes twisting into the time keeper. Before he knows it he finds himself seated on the lap of Kailey Worf.

Although dazed he still has the coherency to look Kailey in the eyes and wink.

Rick-Rohl: Most people have to pay extra for this.

He stands up just in time to catch an inbound BFG with a kick straight to the knee-cap. The blow knocks BFG from his feet and sends him tumbling face first into Kailey’s crotch.

Axl: Well, I guess he was still hungry.

Comeau: Oh that’s just sick.

Kailey is screaming and flailing her arms as BFG’s face continues to rest on her crotch region. Rick-Rohl moves in to pull him off only to have BFG raise a finger, asking for just one more second. Although the request is met with laughter from the crowd, it’s met with blows from Rick-Rohl. A forearm cracks BFG over the back before he’s taken around the neck and dragged out of Kailey’s nether regions.

Despite the fact that he’s now being brutalized, BFG wears a huge grin on his face as he’s dragged to the ring.

Mark: I’m pretty sure Rick-Rohl just made BFG’s night.

Evermore: That’s probably the closest he’s been to a woman since hookers stopped accepting food-stamps.

The rotund frame of BFG rolls into the ring while Rick begins to slide in after him. He only gets half way into the ring before his rival leaps into the air and comes crashing down straight across his upper back with the big splash. The fans stop laughing and gasp at the sight of this splash that has surely flattened Rick-Rohl.

Still reeling from the collision Rick flops to his back, all out of sorts. His positioning couldn’t be any better for BFG, who bounces off of the cables, comes lumbering in and again leaps into yet another big splash. All his girth engulfs the features of Rick-Rohl, his face buried under the folds of fat.

Official Princeton slides into position and slaps the canvas.

Rick somehow is able to get a shoulder up and out of all that fat.

Comeau: Rick-Rohl with the kick out. I would think it take a forklift to get BFG off of you.

Evermore: I’m sure he can be lured off any opponent with some skittles, much like ET. Although, BFG only possesses one tenth of the intelligence of ET, and only a small percentage of his charisma.

The big man is quite miffed that his pinfall was thwarted. He rises to his feet, huffing and puffing all the while and then grabs a handful of his adversary’s hair. Rick is rolled to his knees and from this position he opts to mount a fight. A fist sends a ripple through BFG’s gut.

The blow doubles him over, no matter how well insulated he may be. Rick then delivers an uppercut shot to the jaw that has the wide load stumbled, again swinging both arms. Rohl rises to his feet and delivers a quick kick to the gut, doubling BFG over.

That’s when Rohl actually drops into the splits and delivers another thunderous uppercut to the jaw.

Comeau: Wow, Rick-Rohl showing some athleticism.

Axl: You can’t do the splits?

Comeau: I probably could if it wouldn’t end with being rushed to the hospital.

The shot to the jaw was so powerful that it has BFG once again staggering, desperately trying to keep himself on both feet. Rick isn’t going to make it easy for him as he builds momentum by bouncing from the cables. The part time dancer comes barreling back towards BFG who suddenly lunges forward and throws all of his weight into his opponent.

No matter how big, how strong, how dominant, everyone, Rick-Rohl included, is taken down when they run into a brick wall. That’s exactly what Rick just experienced thanks to the blubbery body of BFG.

Mark: I don’t think anybody is more adapt at throwing their weight around than BFG.

Evermore: Yeah, it seems to be all that he’s adapt at doing. I’m starting to think that Mantaur had a greater range of wrestling moves.

The Philly crowd now boos BFG like he were Adolf Hitler goosestepping in the ring. The husky competitor indulges his overactive glands by reaching into his pocket and grabbing a nearly squished twinky. The fans recoil with repulsion as BFG licks vanilla from his fingers and stuffs the starchy treat down his mouth.

In the process of eating BFG places his foot on Rick-Rohl’s chest, proving he can be a true multi-tasker.

Mark: Was that splash enough for the pin?

Rohl frees his shoulder from the canvas.

Evermore: I think BFG got a little too big for his breeches. Which I’m sure is a problem he’s run into many times throughout his life. I bet his parents dreaded taking him to the big and husky clothing store as a kid.

Comeau: He’s probably kicking himself for going for that arrogant pin.

BFG isn’t kicking himself, he’s putting the boots to Rick-Rohl instead. Despite the fact that the dancer/bodyguard is rolling away BFG follows right along behind with repeated stomps. All the walking proves quite exhausting for the big man who now stoops over, takes Rick-Rohl around the neck and drags him up to his feet. Once upright BFG almost lays his opponent back out with a headbunt to the skull.

The meeting of minds causes Rick to loose his footing. He barely catches himself before he falls back down, and once he stabilizes his unsteady body he wishes he had just gone ahead and taken the plunge. BFG charges in and lays him out with a lariat, putting Rick on his back in a violent manner.

Mark: BFG continuing to dominate, which really shocks me given his inexperience in the ring and the fact that he’s fighting a veteran competitor.

Evermore: I think Rick-Rohl isn’t use to fighting guys his own size, or guys even bigger than he is. That’s the problem he’s running into here.

The crowd cups their mouths in suspense as BFG actually begins to step up one of the turnbuckles.

Mark: No-friggin-way!

BFG backs up the corner and now stands on the second rope, preparing to launch himself off onto his prone opponent. Clearly this act would crush every bone in Rick-Rohl’s body, but BFG shows no mercy.

Axl: The ring is going to need some definite repairs after this.

BFG takes a long, menacing look at the fans, sneers in their direction then leaps from the corner. The crowd gasps as his wide body connects with the canvas, Rick-Rohl having moved out of the way just barely.

Comeau: Rick just saved his career.

Instinctively BFG begins rising to his feet, wheezing horribly as he does so. The second he stands the big man almost tumbles right back over. Somehow he remains upright on his wobbly legs just as a recovered Rick swoops in, takes him around the thigh and to the shock of everyone in the building lifts BFG into the air.

Comeau: WOW!

BFG finds himself in unfamiliar territory, lifted into the air before being scoop slammed down viciously to the canvas. The entire building shakes with applause, the fans coming out of their seats at the sight of Rick-Rohl’s shocking feat of strength.

Mark: UNREAL!

Evermore: That was almost reminiscent of Lex Luger’s slam on Yokozuna, sans all that shitty Lex Express crap. Yeah, that’s the best way to get your number one face over, stick him in a bus and rap about it.

Mark: Herculean strength just displayed by Rick-Rohl.

The fans are still screaming their heads off at the sight of BFG’s body colliding with the canvas. Rick now stands over his fallen opponent, eyes shooting one way, then the other, examining the expression on the faces of the breathless fans. By the time he’s through they’ll need paper bags to breathe into, because Rick is taking off into the ropes, bouncing off and going for the big Hogan-esque leg drop.

He leaps into the air, extends his leg and plants it against the canvas. This time it was BFG who rolled out of harm’s way and ruined this nostalgic moment.

Comeau: So much for reliving history.

Rohl looks as if he may have injured his money maker, rubbing at his rear-end as he crawls into a nearby corner. He slowly pulls himself up with the aid of the ropes, standing just in time for BFG to charge in and splash him viciously against the turnbuckle.

Evermore: Wow, I think BFG’s moveset is more limited than Buehler’s.

Mark: A devastating big splash in that corner, which may have just taken all the fight out of Rick-Rohl.

BFG’s palm engulfs Rick’s face then shoves him down to the canvas across his back. To the surprise of everyone, BFG goes back to the same well that was contaminated before. He steps over the ropes and begins climbing the turnbuckle.

Comeau: What is he doing this for? What point is he trying to make?

Axl: That pigs CAN fly?

BFG begins to stabilize himself as he makes it up to the second rope, both hands wrapped around the top cable. Slowly his foot extends towards the uppermost cable, trying to stand on top of it when Rick-Rohl shockingly recovers. He struggles to his feet and once he has them firmly rooted to the canvas he bolts straight towards his plus sized opposition.

The heavy hired hand looks up just as Rick reaches out and does the unthinkable. He wraps his arms around BFG’s waist and pulls him down onto his shoulder.

Mark: No, no, no, no way, no way, NO WAY!

The crowd shares in Mark’s disbelief as Rick steps out of the corner with the massive BFG on his shoulder then charges him across the ring into a running powerslam.

Comeau: UNBELIEVABLE!

Evermore: Did I just feel the earth being knocked off its axis?

The fans are blown away by what they’ve just witnessed as the massive heap of humanity lays crumbled on the canvas. An exhausted Rick-Rohl lies with one arm stretched over BFG’s chest. Princeton’s count is chanted by the exhilarated audience.

And he’s done it, Rick-Rohl has officially defeated BFG in one hell of a grueling performance.

Mark: It’s OVER! Rick-Rohl has vanquished his foe once and for all.

Evermore: And he did so by way of a CLEAN victory, which is unheard of here in the IWC.

Comeau: A big win for the big man on one of the biggest nights of the year.

Although he is very fatigued and hurting from the tips of his hair to the tips of his toes, Rick-Rohl stands tall and begins to boogey. In spite of the fact that it almost crippled him to load BFG on his shoulder, Rohl still has the energy to grind his hips and shake his groove thing.

Comeau: Rick-Rohl surprising us all with the biggest running powerslam I’ve ever witnessed, and now he’s taking a second to get funky.

Axl: Have you ever heard something so corny it’s almost reduced you to tears?

Comeau: No.

Axl: Well I just did.

The hip shaking continues as Rick Rohl now throws a rope over the middle rope and invites some female fans from the crowd into the ring. Several ladies are almost too eager to take him up on the offer. They slip over the barrier, a scantily clad co-ed bringing up the rear, a cougar following right behind and a granny bringing up the rear. All age demographics are represented as the women fill the ring and start to dance along to Rick-Rohl’s entrance music.

Comeau: Rick-Rohl harkening back to his pole dancing days as he celebrates his first singles victory here in the IWC.

Evermore: I don’t think there could possibly be a better method of celebration.

The fans are going nuts as the dancing proceeds, Rick-Rohl thrusting his pelvis all about while some of the ladies shove dollar bills down his pants. The eldest of the boogying broads discreetly places a room-key in his pants as well.

Mark: I hate to cut away from this fun yet awkward moment, but apparently Michelle Blacker is waiting backstage and is about to get a word with one of the teams in tonight’s Gauntlet.

Evermore: I’d much rather prefer just watching this dance off in the ring. I can guarantee that no promo backstage is going to be as good as the Godzilla themed one that Max and I conducted all those years ago.

Comeau: I don’t think anything could ever touch the greatness of that promo.

UNFINISHED BUSINESS

Michelle Blacker, in all her gothic glory, stands inches removed from the lockeroom. With mic in hand she apathetically and dryly discusses her motivations for being here.

Michelle: Yeah, I’m standing outside of the lockeroom where the guys are putting on their oils and tight fitting spandex, just moments from stepping into the ring to indulge their homicidal urges.

She takes a moment to shiver and swoon.

Blacker: But I’m here to see if any of them will take a moment to discuss their participation in tonight’s main event….

Before she could finish her thought the door to the lockeroom opens and the head of Psycho peeks out. Michelle blushes at the sight of the Cartel Champion, their turbulent history flooding back into her head.

Michelle: Lucky me.

She eagerly moves towards Psycho who exits the lockeroom with a trashcan in hand. Blacker stops once she sees the weapon in his clutches and then the sadistic glint in his eyes. The door opens again and this time Riggs steps out, holding what appears to be a steel pipe in his palms. That same demonic twinkle inhabits his gaze as well.

Blacker: Psycho, Riggs, can I get a word with you two concerning….?

This time her sentence is cut short the moment that Psycho’s massive palm engulfs her face. She is shoved aside by the Sadistic One, who now proceeds down the corridor, acting as if Michelle doesn’t even exist. Blacker is left behind looking both confused and slightly aroused.

Riggs: You wanted a word?

Michelle: Oh….OH YEAH, yeah.

It takes a moment for her mind to snap back into reality.

Blacker: First and foremost, I have to ask, how will the recent passing of your sist…..

A look that would even intimidate Ed Gein is directed towards Michelle. It’s a glare that tells her she’s treading on dangerous ground.

Riggs: Is that really the question you want to ask me right now?

Riggs’ palm is raised but it doesn’t pie face Michelle, much to her chagrin.

Michelle: Would you like me to ask something else?

Riggs: I don’t want you to ask anything. I just want you to stand there hold the mic and shut your fucking mouth.

Blacker: If I speak will you give me a spanking?

Instead of reacting with physicality Riggs just rolls his eyes and turns his attention to the camera.

Riggs: Sooo everyone is talking about titles, huh? I think it’s pretty obvious that greed consumes our opponents, that greed has deluded them into risking it all by participating in tonight’s gauntlet. It’s greed that has got them to risk everything, EVERYTHING, just on the off chance that they could, possibly, perhaps, MAYBE win the World Heavyweight Title. Their willing to risk mind, body and soul on a pipe dream. Nothing more than a PIPE DREAM.

Riggs shakes his head and almost scoffs at the idiocy of his opponents.

Riggs: Well not to be corny, or cliché, but that dream will be nothing more than a nightmare. But not the type of nightmares that seem to haunt Porno Lad. I’m talking about the nightmares that plague you when you’ve lost everything, when you find yourself at the end of a rope with nothing more to lose. And these nightmares won’t just manifest when you fall asleep, they’ll hound our opponents every time they close their eyes. Greed will be responsible for these nightmares. As it was greed that enticed them to step into the ring with us, where Psycho and I will show our opposition just how much they’ve truly risked.

That same disturbing gleam returns to his penetrating eyes.

Riggs: Don’t make the mistake of casting us in with the rest of the greedy lot competing in this gauntlet. Our participation in this match isn’t predicated on titles. We wanted in to give the other teams a reality check. We wanted in to complete some unfinished business. And most importantly, we wanted in this match simply because it looked fun.

Riggs’ chuckle causes the hair on every viewer’s arm to rise.

Riggs: We’re not in this to feed our egos, to add meaningless titles to our waists. No, no, no, no….we’re in this match to be the harbingers of sorrow, to be the catalyst of chaos, to be the men who put things into perspective.

His venomous tongue continues to spew poison.

Riggs: Unlike our opponents, we’re fully aware of the risk we’re taking, and we embrace that risk. We aren’t troubled by nightmares and we aren’t dominated by greed.

Michelle: So what can we expect to see from the two of you in that match?

Riggs: Michelle, Michelle, Michelle, my sweet Michelle.

He puts his hand on her shoulder and looks into her eyes. He also seems to be staring through her eyes, into the windows of her soul.

Riggs: You won’t have to wait till later tonight to find out what we have in store for our opponents.

She takes a moment to try and make sense out of that comment.

Riggs: Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to catch up with my partner.

After passing her by Michelle watches with narrowed eyes.

Mark: What did Riggs mean by that? Where are they going with those weapons in hand?

Evermore: Maybe their supplementing their income as custodial experts, AKA the people who scrub the scum rings out of the toilet. Actually, come to think of it, their pretty much made for that job.

Comeau: I think these two have far more sinister intentions in store. Hopefully we figure out what’s going on with those two.

CARROT

The camera returns to the ringside area where Mark and Axl are seated and ready to earn their paycheck.

Mark: The Overbooked Extravaganza already off to a very hot start here tonight, Riggs and Psycho off doing God only knows what and a grueling battle between BFG and Rick-Rohl, with a surprising amount of sheer physicality. I’m sure we’ll see the same from Max Craven, who is set to challenge for the N.H.B title tonight.

Axl: Nice segway.

Comeau: That match is going to be just as nice. It’s going to off the chain. But right now I’d like to discuss the history between Katelyn and Craven.

Evermore: Discuss.

Mark: This issue dates all the way back to Paranoia VI, maybe even a little bef …..

“The Game”

The moment the opening guitar riff tears through the New Alhambra arena Mark stops speculating and starts staring at the stage where the Brat Pack emerges. Led by IWC Champions Robin Brooks and Katelyn Buel…Parkwood, both wearing their ill gotten titles, the sisterhood of the traveling violence strolls down the ramp. Katelyn not only wears her title but she’s in the festive Halloween spirit, a cat woman costume, Ertha Kitt style, binding tightly to her skin. Tonight the Brat Pack has a new member in their ranks, although she probably has no idea where she is or who she’s with, in the form of the highly gullible Susie Moore.

She seems lost in a trance, the tips of her lips upturned into a wide smile. Drool actually seeps from the corner of her mouth, as if she were heavily sedated. It doesn’t take drugs to put her in such an altered state, all that’s required are a jingling jangling set of keys. The sparkle coming off of the metallic surface, and the clanking noises of metal against metal is too much for Susie’s mind to handle. She’s positively lost, yet drawn to the keys dangling from Katie Steward’s hand, following them like she were a mule led by a carrot.

Mark: Okay, thanks for letting me finish my thought.

Evermore: It’s okay, I doubt it would have been interesting.

Paris follows along behind the Brat Pack’s captive, a pear of scissors wrapped around her fingers. She twirls them at the tip of her nail, purposely drawing attention to them.

Comeau: The Brat Pack just moseying on out here whenever they feel like it. You would think Robin would have learned her lesson but she obviously hasn’t. She’s still screwing around with the show, by coming out here unannounced…..

Evermore: Not to mention, uninvited.

Mark:….and kidnapping a member of the broadcast team. How many matches where her career is on the line does she have to be in before she learns her lesson?

Axl: Considering that this is Robin we’re talking about, I’m guessing….. a lot.

Parkwood parts the ropes for Brooks, who slides through and into the ring weighed down by her Submission Championship, the belt she used to both prove a point and lure Porno Lad into his doom. The jangling keys continue to entice Susie into the ring, who now like a cat tries to paw at them. Steward makes sure to keep them out of her reach as they move towards a corner and allow Brooks to make an all important speech. With house mic in hand the Black Widow tries to talk over the jeering Philly crowd.

Robin: We didn’t ask for this people…

The crowd has no sympathy.

Brooks: We didn’t ask to be singled out by a power hungry thug. We didn’t ask to be made an example of so that Orlando can get a cheap pop and get a huge boner as a result. Yes, I know, it’s disgusting, and if you people would just stop cheering for him maybe we wouldn’t all be forced to see that disturbing bulge in his pants. Once again, EVERYTHING is YOUR fault.

She points out over the fans, who definitely have no intention of turning the mirror on themselves.

Robin: I mean, think about it, what, WHAT, could I possibly have done that was so bad, so HEINOUS, that it would give Orlando the right to fire me? NOTHING!

Mark: Obviously she doesn’t remember that stunner on Orlando.

Axl: Well, blonds are quick to forget, especially when they’re Robin.

Brooks: It was all just one big PR stunt. Well Mr. Cruze, the Brat Pack may be here to bring star power, but we’ll not be made examples of. We will not stand idly by and let you toy with our careers because you want to put on a pissing contest for these ignorant yokels!

Obviously it’s been quite a while since anyone referred to the fans as yokels, and they don’t like it either.

Robin: What next? Are you going to come out here and make balloon animals for the kiddies? Are you going to get your very own Leprechaun that pops out from under the ring to draw in that teeny bopper demographic? We’re not about to sit around and watch you make the IWC your own personal glory hole. Seriously, there are rest stops for that type of thing, and the mouths of these fans are probably getting too stiff as it is.

Again she makes another insinuation that doesn’t sit well with the audience. The only person who pays no mind to these comments is Susie, who is now lying on her back across the canvas, flicking at the keys subduing her.

Brooks: We’re putting our stiletto heels down, Mr. Cruze.

Katelyn stomps her foot to make her point then winces from the pain in her brittle ankle.

Robin: It’s your turn to shut up and take it, which I’m sure is what Kloe heard on your wedding night. We’re not here to boost your popularity rating, Cruze. You’re not going to use us to distract these fans from the problems plaguing this company. Plagues that only WE can cure. It’s time YOU learned something, that we can do what we want to whomever we want whenever we want. Just take a look at our special guest would ya?

Attention is drawn to the giggling Susie, still enchanted by the swaying keys held on the tips of Steward’s fingers.

Brooks: If we could take her just like “THAT” (snaps fingers), we can take down anybody that we want. So is pissing us off a risk your willing to take? What if next time we decide to show up at your office, no, no, your HOME!

Her menacing tone adds credibility to every vile threat spewed from her lips.

Robin: If you want to do what’s best for business you’ll butt out of our affairs for now on and go back to playing with your tots. Every day spent with them is a precious one, which we’ll show you if you decide to tangle with the Brat Pack again. Oh, and Porno Lad, if YOU want do what’s best for SUSIE, then you had better pay close attention to our demands as well.

It’s at this point that the fans want to pelt Katelyn with tomatoes, as she generically rubs her palms together and twirls her invisible handlebar mustache.

Brooks: If you want this adorable little lady back in your arms, snug as a bug, then I would highly recommend that you remove yourself from the Tag Team Gauntlet.

Now the fans really are looking for vegetables, any vegetable that would knock Brooks down a few pegs.

Robin: AND….I’m not through yet…..you RELINQUISH your partial ownership of the Submission Title. Otherwise, you never know what will happen to sweet innocent Susie. Maybe one day we’ll leave the front gate open and she’ll chase a ball into the street. Accidents do happen, Porno Lad, they happen every single day. But if you do as the Brat Pack tells you, she’ll be safe. So as Orlando put it oh so eloquently, Susie’s fate, is in YOUR hands. And just to show that we’re 100% serious, Paris brought along the very scissors she’ll use to cut every beautiful, blond lock off the top of Susie’s head…..

The ideal of a bald Moore is not very sexually appeasing to the audience, and they let Robin know that.

Brooks:…..if you get anywhere near this ring tonight. And that’ll be just for starters.

Mark: How downright diabolical of Robin Brooks and the Brat Pack.

Evermore: Well, their brains are probably implants judging from the rest of their bodies. So I’m not all that impressed.

Mark: Are you ever?

Axl: When watching one of Max’s latest films, yes, otherwise, no.

Robin: I’m STILL not finished. There’s one more person we have a few demands for. CHRISTIAN SAVIOR! You whiney lil’ megalomaniac you, you reincarnation of Napoleon Bonaparte, we DEMAND an explanation. We DEMAND that you come out here and tell us why you broke the truce. We want ANSWERS, why did you and this “Mr. X,” take out Jackson Adams, who you know is part of the in crowd? And I would advice that you have a very good explanation for your actions….

“Falling In the Black” drowns out the voice of Robin Brooks and replaces it with a sound that the crowd finds equally as repulsive. If anyone could give Skillet a bad name by virtue of association, it would be the man on the stage. With steel pipe thrown over his shoulder Christian Savior becomes a little more confident as he strolls towards the ring. That’s exactly what he does, STROLLS, no hitch in his step, no hesitation in his speed. He moves right up the stairs and to the apron, eyes meeting with the woman of many demands.

Mark: Christian really does have a lot of explaining to do.

Axl: Such as who’s cock he had to suck to become World Champion. I’m sure there were several.

While one hand holds the very weapon that left Jackson Adams and Pat Evans laying at the onset of the show, his other hand grips a microphone. This weapon is used to provide the much needed explanation and packs a greater punch by way of Christian’s words.

Christian: Why are you so fucking needy?

His comments do nothing to endear him to the women in the ring.

Savior: You demand this, you demand that. You sound worse than Johnny Kingdom during a production meeting.

A pause for the obligatory “ohhh”…..the sound of crickets.

Christian: I don’t owe any of you any type of explanation. It’s like you said, Robin, I do whatever I want, to whomever I want…yadda, yadda, yadda, etcetera, etcetera. Jackson had that beating coming, just like Evans….

Before either Katelyn can agree with him, or Brooks could argue with the Rising Phoenix, Christian carries on, already missing the sound of his own voice.

Savior: BUT….that doesn’t mean I had a hand in it.

While Buehler finds this troubling, Robin finds it intriguing.

Christian: I didn’t break our truce, although “Mr. X,” as you’ve dubbed him, is not on a leash. I don’t have any control over what he does, and who he does it too. He’s just like a dog humping legs, looking for a cheap thrill and driven by his most primal of desires. If you believe in guilt by association, then fine, take your shot.

Savior grips the pipe with far more tension, his eyes narrowing on the four uncontrollable women in the ring, their fists clinched, their legs ready to kick between the uprights. Although Brooks is stewing, looking ready to be taken off the burner, she opens her palm and lunges at Savior. Christian counters immediately by grabbing Robin’s outstretched palm and shaking it.

Mark: What?

Evermore: Oh wow, their shaking hands, let’s all act like it’s a big deal.

The fans find themselves in a stupor, wondering why Brooks and Savior would be shaking hands after everything that has transpired between them over the past few weeks.

Christian: Nice grip.

Katelyn: Lots of guys have told her that.

Brooks breaks the handshake to slap Katelyn on the back of her noggin. Her palm returns right back to Christian’s hand though, the two cementing some kind of alliance. Katie keeps Susie preoccupied with the keys despite how sore her wrist is getting, and reaches out with her other hand, shaking Savior’s as well.

Brooks: I guess we can let your indiscretions slide just this once, Savior.

She winks at Christian. It’s the type of wink that lets someone know that your in on the joke, Brooks perhaps a little more aware of tonight’s earlier attack than she’s letting on.

Robin: We should let bygones be bygones. After all, we don’t want to go into tonight’s main event with a dark cloud hanging over our heads, now do we? Considering the deal we just struck backstage.

Axl: A deal? I’m sure it’s the type that involves Buehler getting scraped knees again.

Christian: Yes, I know it’s impossible for you fans to put two and two together, so let’s add it up for the mathematically challenged shall we?

Robin: Gladly. Thanks to the unfortunate attack on our Tag Team partners earlier tonight, which let us remind you….WE….had nothing to do with….

The crowd might have an easier time accepting that if it weren’t for the smirk on Savior’s face.

Brooks:…Christian and I discussed the predicament it put us in. Obviously we can’t enter the gauntlet on our own, so we were in need of replacement partners.

Evermore: Either it was the shrimp I ate at that all you can eat seafood place, or my stomach’s just telling me that this can lead nowhere good.

Brooks: And after he explained his actions from last week, I saw the light. I’m fine with him abandoning me in the ring on the last Riot!, because he’s shown me his master-plan, he’s made me aware of his true intentions. I realize now what his goal is, to ensure that Orlando’s presidency is a short one. It’s a goal that we in the Brat Pack whole heartedly support. We’d even fund it if the IWC didn’t pay Katelyn and I with pesos. We got on board with the Savior Initiative, and we got on board with him tonight.

Evermore: I take it their substituting the word “board” for “penis.”

Christian: Tonight, the Brat Pack/Rising Pheonix alliance takes the next step in purging the IWC of Orlando’s tyranny and Kingdom’s oppression of the World Heavyweight Title. Now that our partners and their contradictory goals have been put aside, we can concentrate and dominate, as a REAL team, and REAL tag team champions.

The crowd really, really, really, really wishes they just had one head of lettuce to pitch in the ring. Savior and Brooks chuckle at their expense, and at the expense of all those in the lockeroom forced to face this new threat. The sight in the ring becomes especially unbearable as Christian removes one of the Tag Team Title belts from his shoulder and hands it over to the Black Widow.

Mark: So let me get this straight, Pat Evans and Jackson Adams are taken out earlier tonight, and then Savior and Brooks conveniently meet backstage and put together this powerhouse of an alliance? Something smells fishy.

Axl: It’s probably just Katelyn’s breathe.

Speaking of Buehler, she quickly becomes the focal point of Robin’s attention.

Brooks: But what’s important right now, is YOUR match Katelyn.

Mrs. Parkwood gulps in an exaggerated fashion.

Robin: BFG has already lost, we can ill afford another embarrassment. On a night where Savior and I walk away with every IWC Title belt our historic accomplishment cannot tolerate even the slightest blemish. So you either beat Max here tonight, or you don’t bother coming back to the lockeroom.

Katelyn is somewhat stunned by Robin’s announcement but realizes that this is a mere motivating tactic…..right? Before she can get an answer Robin is already slipping through the ropes parted by Christian’s hand. He follows behind, leaving Mrs. Parkwood in the ring all alone. Even Susie ditches the ring, following the keys anywhere they might go.

Katelyn: Where’s everyone going? Hey, HEY!

Nobody listens, too preoccupied with the bombshell they just dropped on the fans. A new set of Tag Team Champions, Christian and Robin, will now step into the ring and defend their titles in the main event.

CONTROL

The door that leads to the dressing room of the Icon swings open abruptly and into the hallway storms the President himself. His feet smack the pavement with great haste, and his knuckles are clinched. He’s ready for anything that may lie ahead or stand in the way of him reaching the ring.

Orlando: Not on my watch.

The mumbling President carries onward, determined to be the one who truly puts their foot down.

KATELYN PARKWOOD © VS. MAX CRAVEN

The show returns live to the ring where Katelyn Parkwood AKA Katelyn Buehler is pacing anxiously. It’s clear by the sweat streaming down her pale white features that she hadn’t counted on being left entirely on her own. Maybe the hot leather Cat Woman outfit or her fear that caused her chest to heave and hives to form on her skin, nevertheless Katelyn anxiously awaits the arrival of her challenger.

Mark: Orlando Cruze not taking this news from Robin and Christian very lightly. It looked to me like he was on his way out here, maybe we’ll here from him after this N.H.B Title bout.

Evermore: Yes, I’m sure he’ll conveniently make it out here right after this match has ended. He must be a really slow walker.

Finally, much to Parkwood’s dread, the entrance music of her opponent kicks in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max enters the squared circle and finds himself mono a mono, opposed to Katelyn in her sensual cat woman garments.

Axl: Well, there’s your new N.H.B Champion.

Mark: I don’t think making that claim involves going out on a limb at all. Katelyn is all on her own and completely at the mercy of Max Craven. An individual who has been a nagging, persistent irritation to Mrs. Parkwood for many, many months.

Evermore: Maybe this match will be just the exercise she needs to get rid of those cankles.

Max slides into the ring, and within seconds of being through the ropes already is forced to defend himself against Katelyn. The Champion storms directly at Max who quickly side steps her, catches his opponent by the hair and pitches her through the ropes to the outside of the ring.

Mark: That didn’t work out very well for Katelyn.

Evermore: Did you honestly think it would? Are you so disillusioned that you would think ANYTHING she does will work out?

Comeau: No, but I still have to act surprised when she fails miserably.

Mrs. Parkwood is all loopy as she reaches her feet and turns back towards the ring. She does this just in time to see Max spring from a set of ropes then fly over the cables running perpendicular before eventually crashing down into her with a splash. The Philly crowd pops accordingly, thrilled by Max’s high flying exploits.

Comeau: Now that was impressive.

To the surprise of many Max actually landed on his feet after connecting chest first with Katelyn’s face. He now rushes at a nearby barricade and leaps onto it, placing a knee to the top edge of the barrier and throwing his arms out to his sides. The highly enthused audience extend their palms and receive some high fives from the former X-Class Champion.

Despite his showboating Max is still keenly aware of his opponent’s position. Katelyn may be hurting but she’s rising straight back to her feet, planting them beneath her just as Max stands on the barricade then launches himself into a huge clothesline. His bicep connects with Katelyn’s throat and takes them both down to the mats.

Evermore: Go on now, continue being impressed. Gush away.

Mark: Don’t have to tell me twice. What a sensational clothesline by Craven, who is just catching Katelyn from every possible angle. I don’t think it’ll be long now before a new N.H.B Champion is crowned.

Craven is up and forcing Katelyn along behind him. She gets to her knees and Max reintroduces the champion to the ring, rolling her in where his onslaught will continue. With the fans firmly in his back pocket Max ascends to the apron and trails his fleeing opponent.

Much like in her match against Psycho, Mrs. Parkwood wants no part of this action. She scrapes and claws her way towards the opposite end of the ring, looking for some type of escape. Max reaches down, catching her much criticized ankles and turning her to her back. He tries to drag her back to the center of the ring even as Katelyn grips the ropes with all her upper body strength.

The more he tugs the tighter her grip becomes. She refuses to release the middle cable until Max lifts her legs up high into the air, catches the creases of her knees on his shoulders and drops into a sit-out powerbomb.

Katelyn’s spine is driven with incredible force into the canvas, Max leaning forward into the back of her thighs for the pinfall.

Parkwood shoots a shoulder free from the canvas.

Mark: I almost thought this match was over right there.

Axl: I’m surprised that it wasn’t. I think Art Donovan has a better knowledge of wrestling than Katelyn.

The onslaught continues as Max stands over his opponent and quickly goes back to work. After taking hold of both the Champion’s wrists, he pulls Katelyn up to her bum then delivers an inverted curb stomp, driving her upper back viciously into the canvas.

With spine arched Katelyn tries to evade her opposition yet again, the trauma inflicted on her spine the perfect motivator to flee. She crawls towards the ropes only this time to have Max step over her leg, lift it into the air and apply a single Boston Leg Crab.

Mark: Katelyn’s predicament has just become so, so much worse. She is in dire straights.

The performer formerly known as Buehler, digs her press on nails into the canvas and grunts as she tries to reach out for the ropes. Max keeps leaning further and further back on the leg until he can hear the cartilage in her knee snapping. Even then he refuses to break the hold, determined to take out a member of the Brat Pack here tonight.

The official has to get involved eventually, finally fulfilling his duties once Katelyn’s hand reaches under the ropes and grabs the apron. Fitzpatrick orders Craven to break the hold yet Max isn’t very receptive to this idea, shaking his head, defiant till the end.

Comeau: Max REFUSING to budge, refusing to break the hold.

Evermore: He must have this whole Braveheart ideology going, with less of an emphasis on gory torture scenes.

Mark: It wouldn’t be a Mel Gibson film without a gory torture scene. But the only person being tortured right now is Katelyn Parkwood.

The official is on the verge of prying Max off of Katelyn, as any five count or warning of disqualification would be an idle threat given the lack of rules in N.H.B Title bouts. Max uses this knowledge to his utmost advantage, tearing as many ligaments in Parkwood’s leg as possible before she finally drops under the ropes to the outside mats.

Although she takes a nasty bump she’s grateful to have at least spared her leg any further damage. Once her panic stricken eyes behold the sight of Craven exiting the ring to continue punishing her, Katelyn looks for sanctuary. She crawls under the ring, Max reaching for her feet only to have his grubby palms kicked away.

Smartly Max doesn’t pursue her under the ring, realizing that there could be a variety of traps that she’s trying to lure him into. Instead he sets up a better mousetrap, grabbing a chair from the ringside area then stepping around to the opposite side of the ring.

He positions himself with chair cocked back, ready to swing at the first sight of Katelyn’s head.

Mark: Max isn’t stupid.

Axl: He’s a visionary. The man is about to play a human version of whack the mole.

Craven continues to anticipate the first glimpse of Katelyn’s terrified eyes. This sight is denied to him however, when Katelyn comes rushing around the ring, leaping off of the stairs and connecting on a shocked Max with a crossbody. She exited the ring on one of the opposite sides, catching Craven completely off his game as a result. The chair falls out of his hand and Max tumbles to his back, Katelyn coming down on top of him, a mess of hair obscuring her face.

Mark: Max could only guess which side of the ring Katelyn was going to pop out on and unfortunately he guessed wrong. That was a pretty impressive move by Mrs. Parkwood though, using those steps to launch herself into a crossbody.

Evermore: Well, if your only going to learn three moves you might as well as know every possible position to use them in. The same rule goes for sex by the way.

Mark: Don’t I know it.

The Champion begins to exude confidence although much of her face is still blocked out by the bangs hanging from her sweaty scalp. There is far more intensity to her movements, her forearm clobbering Craven to the cheek the second he tries to stand up. Once Max is upright, despite the several blows he’s tolerated to the cranium, Katelyn grabs his weapon of choice and swings the chair straight at his face.

Craven ducks the inbound steel, saving himself from years of dental surgery. Or so he thought. He turns back around as the chair is tossed into his hands and caught mere inches from his face. Katelyn promptly dropkicks the chair directly into Max’s features, incapacitating the challenger.

Evermore: Wow. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen Buehler, NOT botch a move.

Comeau: I guess there’s a first time for everything. Perhaps she finally is starting to learn and perfect her craft.

Axl: You would actually have to go to a gym, or a dogo for that, Mark. I think Katelyn just learned how to wrestle playing the Wii.

The passionate Parkwood drops into the cover on Craven, hooking a leg as the official makes the count

Craven’s shoulder is up well before the three. The Challenger has no intention of leaving here tonight without a title around his waist. Katelyn surprisingly holds her tongue as she grips Max the neck and pulls him up to his feet and before along has him rolling back into the ring.

Wisely Katelyn begins searching under the squared circle for some weapons, grabbing hold of a long Singapore cane, which of course she rubs to check for splinters, yes, to check for splinters. The weapon is tossed into the ring alongside a trash can lid and finally the very steel chair that proved so effective in putting down the challenger moments ago.

Max rises to his knees just in time for Parkwood to swing with the trashcan lid, the steel almost cracking over his skull. The blow has rendered Max rather loopy, eyes glazed over, fluttering as he tries to remain conscious.

Mark: It’s been an awfully long time since we’ve seen such brutality out of Katelyn.

Axl: I don’t know about that. I mean, have you ever sat through one of her promos? Now that’s brutal.

The brain rattling blow causes Max to fall to all fours, trying to keep upright in spite of his head trauma. Katelyn continues to target the brain, grabbing the previously mentioned chair, then wedging it under her leg and rump. She jumps into the air, coming down with the chair right across the back of Craven’s skull.

Comeau: Another new move from Katelyn. She’s like a completely different wrestler.

Max flops to his back and is quickly pinned yet again as the champion tries to blow a few strands of hair from her face to watch the ref’s hand.

Craven is shocked to find himself forced to kick out on the verge of three once more. Clearly this is not the way that anybody foresaw this match going, possibly even Katelyn. She has overcome her resilience on allies as she steps over Max’s body and proceeds towards a turnbuckle, steel chair still in hand.

Once again the chair is placed under leg as she scales to the middle rope and prepares to take flight. Max is laid almost lifelessly across the canvas below, prime pickings for the champion. She now takes flight, actually dazzling the crowd for once by going for a leg drop aided by the chair.

This time her backside and the steel meet nothing but canvas and suffer the repercussions.

Comeau: Katelyn running into a problem she’s faced numerous times before, she went to the same well too often.

Evermore: Yeah, and considering that most wells are contaminated with sewage run offs…..well, you can probably tell where I was headed with that sentence.

Parkwood reaches for her bruised coxes as Max crawls across the ring, trying to create some distance. Oddly enough it’s Craven who is fleeing his opponent, desperate to get at least a few moments to reform his strategy. He grabs the ropes and begins to use them as a crutch while behind his back Katelyn is still groaning over her injured backside.

Nevertheless she turns to her knees and begins to stand up over her dented chair. Now that Max has got the synapses firing in his brain once again he goes back on the offensive, sauntering towards his wounded opponent. He quickly discovers that he’s made the fatal error of underestimating her yet again when Katelyn drives the chair into his ribs.

The top edge of the steel batters the mid-section of the challenger, doubling him over as a result. With Max finding himself it yet another precarious position, Katelyn sets up the chair, charges into the far ropes and ricochets off. She steps off the steel and launches herself over Max’s back, catching him around the waist on the way down.

Mark: This sunset flip might just do it.

Evermore: I wouldn’t be surprised, given the fourteen billion roll up victories you see in the IWC a week. Well, that and the pointless DQs.

Craven kicks his legs desperately, still coherent yet still unable to fight out of this shocking sunset flip.

Craven’s shoulder finally launches from the ring and he rolls in reverse. The challenger rises to his feet but just as quickly reaches down to grab the legs. That’s when he finds his head trapped between Katelyn’s legs, where many a men’s faces have been trapped before.

She tries to pull him over into a head scissors take down only to have Max wedge his palms to her thighs and shove her off. As a result Katelyn rolls from her back to her knees, finding herself crouched in front of her opponent. Although she may be accustomed to being on her knees in front of a man what she’s not use to is the pain her current predicament can lead to. Craven looks to give her a painful lesson as he rushes in only to find himself snagged by Katelyn’s trap, tumbling face first into the chair as a result of the drop toe hold.

All he finds is even more trauma for his troubles. His skull bounces from the steel and his body instinctively goes staggering backwards into the ropes, leaning on them for support.

No matter where he ends up nothing alters Katelyn’s strategy, yes, as shocking as that sounds, she does seem to have a gameplan. Mrs. Parkwood employs the opposite cables to provide momentum, sending her charging into the steel chair and using it as a stepping stone for a second time.

She leaps off towards Max and extends her leg, only for Craven to step out of the way. As a result she hits the cables with a leg lariat then bounces off and finds her body traumatized by the collision with the ring.

Mark: Katelyn got a little too big for her breeches on that move, although I do commend her for attempting it.

Evermore: It’s okay if Katelyn is too big for her pants, she doesn’t spend much time wearing them anyhow.

Parkwood rubs at her crotch region, rolling around on the canvas as if she hyper-extended something. She contradicts her pain though by rising to her feet just in time for Max to leap off of the chair and drill her to the face with a sickening knee strike.

Axl: There ya go Maxy boy. Just keep with it already.

Mark: Indeed, he’s going to have remain on the offensive considering that Katelyn has brought her A game into this match. I have no idea who lit a fire under her ass.

Axl: I don’t know either, but chances are she probably paid someone to do it.

With her hair masking her face its difficult for the fans to detect just how much pain Katelyn is in, but they can tell that last move really has her shaken. She puts up no defense even as Max rolls under the ropes to the apron then leaps to the top cable. He stands on it for a second then slowly timbers over, tumbling with all his weight crashing down onto her sternum.

The fans applaud the big splash, realizing that Katelyn’s motivation is starting to fade and Max is developing some momentum. With Parkwood’s body battered and bruised she instinctively rolls away from the challenger and employs the chair to reach her feet, a BIG mistake.

Craven rushes up behind her and makes Katelyn pay for her use of crutches, taking the back of her head and dragging her down face first into the seat of the chair with a face buster.

Comeau: Ohhh my, after that move I think Katelyn is going to need the name of a good plastic surgeon.

She stands up straight, stumbling and staggering worse than a whino after last call. Max looks to put her to sleep by charging into the cables in front of the champion, springing to the second rope then flying off and twisting in mid-air. He lands right on top of Katelyn’s shoulders then pulls her around into the hurricarana that has got the crowd on its feet screaming.

Mark: Another sensational aerial move by Craven, who just keeps this onslaught going. This may be enough, it just may be enough to net him the N.H.B Title.

The official slips into position, palm meeting to the canvas much to the excitement of the crowd. Craven continues to hook the creases of Katelyn’s knees and sit on her chest, leaving her with no means of escape, even as her hands reach out and find the very cane she tossed into the ring earlier.

Parkwood kicks out, sending Max into a backwards roll. Once on his feet he attempts to exploit the same strategy as earlier, quickly descending upon Katelyn’s legs and hoping this time they don’t trap his head. He doesn’t have to worry about the legs however, because it’s the cane that is swung into the top of his head that proves fatal.

Katelyn sits up just in time to swing the staff into his skull, the sound of the collision echoing all throughout the New Alhambra arena. Some of the fans even cringe at the sickening collision that sends Max spiraling towards the ropes.

Just as a smile forms on Katelyn’s face, Max bounces from the cables then leaps forward into a diving European Uppercut that connects directly to her jaw. The blow leaves them both laid out on the canvas, the magnitude of that shot with the cane finally setting in upon Max.

Evermore: Thank God for testosterone.

Mark: Craven needed a lot of it to hit that move all things considered.

Many of the fans are now standing, anxiously watching the action, nobody having counted on this caliber of a match. With both wrestlers down and hurting now it just becomes a matter of who can reach their feet first. They move with equal speed, Craven and Katelyn sluggishly getting to their feet in this feud ending bout.

Once upright Max reaches out and grabs Katelyn’s neck, twisting her around so that he can connect with his version of the Rude Awakening. Before he can get through even one pelvic gyration, Katelyn spins her body and Max’s as well, holding him around the chin until she’s countered into a position for the KBO.

She lunges into the air in order to hit the highly generic diamond cutter only for Max to shove her off. As a result Katelyn flies through the air before eventually crashing down spine first into the very chair she set up earlier in the match. The steel doesn’t break or fold, it remains strong as…well….steel. It’s Katelyn’s body that contorts and shatters around it.

Mark: Another gamble coming up snake eyes for Katelyn Parkwood. Her back has to be in some very, very traumatic pain after that nasty introduction to the chair.

Evermore: Let’s be fair now, Mark. I’m sure Katelyn has done far nastier things to chairs in the past.

Broken ribs, kidney damaged, a punctured lung, who knows how much damage was just inflicted by that throw. The only way Katelyn can determine the extent of her injuries is to gauge the pain coursing through her body as she writhes on the canvas.

Craven’s legs may be having a difficult time supporting him, but they hold him up long enough to approach the chair and fold it up. He stumbles towards a turnbuckle, wedging the steel in between the top and the middle rope.

Axl: It’s about time he starting set up for the grand finale. Hopefully it’s as dazzling as he intends it to be.

With Katelyn’s hair in hands, Max drags his formidable foe to her feet and prepares to launch her skull first into the precisely arranged chair. He takes off, dragging her along behind before eventually tossing her forward. Just before Katelyn’s head meets steel for their third date, the champion leaps to the middle rope and springs off. She twists into a crossbody that connects to Craven, putting him down on his back for the three count.

Unfortunately for Katelyn, her plans again go horribly awry as Max counters by rolling back and ending up on top of her this time. He hooks the leg with a lateral press and the crowd screaming.

Mark: Hey now, HEY NOW!

Mark vocalizes the crowd’s excitement, although they hardly need a spokesman. They scream anxiously as the ref’s hand meets the canvas.

Again Katelyn kicks out with a fraction of a second remaining, dashing the hopes of the fans and Craven.

Axl: Behold the art of the glorious near fall.

Mark: Max a millisecond away from being crowned the N.H.B Champion and finally putting Katelyn Parkwood in his past.

Axl: Much like a venereal disease, which I’m sure Katelyn knows a lot about, she’s pretty difficult to get rid of.

Max and Katelyn rise to their feet exchanging some shots. It’s Katelyn’s knuckles connecting to Max’s ribs that give her a slight advantage. Craven is doubled over just as Parkwood reaches her feet, leaps into the air and goes for the Lou Thez Press.

For the second show in a row Max counters, catching her under the knees and throwing her body up on top of his shoulders. He rushes forward in order to connect with the running powerbomb, a move he knows to be an effective counter to her Lou Thez. This time it doesn’t meet with the same rate of success. Katelyn slips over Max’s head, twists her body in the process and lands on his shoulders, pulling him down into a crucifix pin.

Comeau: You’ve got to be shitting me. Where did Katelyn learn these counters?

Axl: Maybe the Wii is a more effective means of training than I thought.

Fitzpatrick slips into position, hand slapping the canvas much to the outrage of the crowd.

Now it’s Max who frees a shoulder from the canvas with just mere seconds to spare. He then reaches his feet with great haste before rushing towards Parkwood, who takes his legs out from under him by means of swinging a trashcan lid straight into his knees.

Both legs buckle as a result and Craven goes tumbling face first into the canvas. The crowd is adamant in their anger and shock, very displeased by Katelyn’s sudden wealth of wrestling knowledge and timing. The very trashcan lid that has aided Katelyn several times in this match is now slammed straight over Max’s upper back.

The blow brings him to his chest and stomach, sprawled helplessly across the canvas. Now the dented lid is placed over his temple while Katelyn approaches another weapon that has aided her, the Singapore cane.

Mark: I don’t know what Katelyn is setting up for here, but what I do know is that I don’t like it.

Evermore: She’s going all Martha Stewart in there, and we all know how prone to violence Martha Stewart is.

Katelyn rears back on the cane and swings it down into the trashcan lid placed over Max’s face. It connects with possibly skull shattering force.

Mark: OHHH! That had to damage Max’s equilibrium.

The fans behave much in the same way as Comeau, gasping as the cane meets steel and causes the steel to meet skull. Craven flops to his back and grabs at his skull where great intracranial pressure must be occurring. Katelyn rears back on the cane once more and this time drives it straight into his ribs.

Comeau: Yikes, with the amount of blows to Max’s body, there’s got to be some kind of internal bleeding going on at this point.

Evermore: Meh’, Max will walk it off.

Max curls into the fetal position, protecting his ribs while Katelyn slowly approaches a nearby turnbuckle. She starts up it in reverse, both hands tightly gripping the long, slender stick. Creepy.

She lifts the cane into the air, looking to undo her earlier blunder when she flew off a turnbuckle with a weapon and met a truly foul fate. This time she’s determined to connect as Max sluggishly tries to reach his feet. A bit of blood seeps from his ear, showing that he may indeed be suffering some type of hemorrhage. Nevertheless he gets up and turns just as Katelyn flies off the second rope, swinging the cane in the process.

The cane never meets its mark, Max reaching out, catching the creases of her knees and dropping her to the canvas. He lifts her leg up under his armpit and counters into the Single Boston Crab.

Evermore: There we go.

Mark: Beautiful, beautiful counter! Max has got Katelyn in that half crab yet again!

Evermore: And I would suggest if he doesn’t want to get teased backstage that he finish her off with this hold already.

Max may be in agony but it doesn’t stop him from rearing as far back on the leg as possible. Katelyn’s hip is almost pressed to the back of her head as she desperately reaches for the cables. They are just too far away, separated by what seem like miles. Given the highly traumatized condition of her body, Katelyn has little recourse, lifting her hand into the air and slapping the canvas.

Mark: SHE TAPPED!

Evermore: It was only a matter of time.

Comeau: We have a NEW N.H.B Champion.

The crowd reacts so loudly you would think they were all dosed with X. They leap to their feet cutting forth with a reception that shakes the very building. The very building where Max has just claimed a championship. He drops to his knees as soon as the official informs him that Katelyn has submitted. All the trauma he’s endured throughout this bout has paid off in a big win for Craven.

Comeau: Max has done it, he’s risen to the occasion….

Axl: Oh, I have it on good authority that Max has no problem rising to the occasion.

Comeau: His win tonight has just put him over the top, he’s defeated a surprisingly game Katelyn Parkwood, and now the N.H.B Title is in his possession. What a match, what a performance by both these competitors.

The celebration continues in the New Alhambra arena as the official turns to call for the bell. He lifts his finger to motion to the time keeper but then pauses mid-way through his normal gesture. The hesitation corresponds to the sight his eyes now behold.

Mark: Hold on a second….

Katelyn now lies on her back with her hair parted, completely removed from her face and the cat woman mask ripped off her skin. The official is aghast when he finds himself staring, not at Katelyn, but at a completely different female wrestler.

Comeau: What!?! That’s not even Katelyn.

Axl: You don’t know that, maybe she got a nose job under the ring or something.

The fans now realize what’s happening, considering that this Katelyn facsimile no longer has a mask obscuring her features.

Mark: I cannot…Katelyn pulled a switcheroo! I can’t believe this.

Evermore: That devious little….

Mark: Careful now.

Fitzpatrick is at a loss, having no idea what he should do considering that Max did not beat the legal participant in this bout. Craven has no idea what is going on behind him as he staggers to his feet, his win giving him the strength to push past all his pain. That’s before reality slaps him in the face, or more accurately caves in his skull.

The authentic, well as authentic as a woman undergoing years of plastic surgery can be, Katelyn Parkwood rolls into the ring behind Craven, still adorned in her own cat woman costume. She emerged from her hiding place just in time to rush up behind Max, take the back of his head and his tights, charge him across the ring and throw the challenger skull first into the steel chair wedged between top and middle rope.

The very weapon that Max put in place now comes back to haunt him as his cranium is almost split from the impact with the steel. He stumbles back right into the waiting arms of Katelyn, who pulls him over into the school boy. She kicks up both legs and places them on the middle rope, screeching at the official to do his job.

Evermore: Ohh great, typical bullshit finish for Katelyn Buehler.

Mark: I’m equally as repulsed by this, Axl.

Fitzpatrick finally swallows his pride and makes the count.

Victory is achieved by Katelyn Parkwood, who once again retains her title by the most nefarious of means.

Comeau: What an absolute sham. Just when I was starting to appreciate how far Katelyn has come as a wrestler, low and behold we find out it wasn’t even her who was wrestling the majority of this match. She got herself a ringer.

Axl: I’m shocked.

Mark: As am I by this whole debacle.

Evermore: No, I’m shocked that Katelyn would have the intelligence to pull this off. But she’ll wish she hadn’t when Max gets his revenge.

Katelyn pulls her precious N.H.B Title in close to her lips once it’s forked over by a reluctant official. She jumps for joy, showing no wear and tear considering that she spent less than three actual minutes competing in this match. Her stand in is having trouble, ironically, standing up. After enduring all the brutality Max could throw at her, Katelyn’s doppelganger, who actually looks nothing like Katelyn once the view of her face is unobstructed, staggers into her employer’s arms.

Katelyn wraps her arms around her accomplice’s neck and hops around ecstatically.

Axl: Yeah, wow, woo-hoo, this is really worth celebrating.

Comeau: For Katelyn I think this is the closest she’s ever gotten to a clean pinfall.

Max begins to come through, blinking his eyes sporadically and shaking off his collision with the chair. The numerous blows to his cranium leave him confounded, unsure of what just transpired, and unaware that victory has once again been snatched from his clutches.

HITTIN THE ROAD

Hurse: Come on bro, stop and think about this for a sec….

Unfortunately Porno Lad just doesn’t have that liberty. He can’t dwell on his decision as he proceeds towards the exit to the Manhattan Center. No matter how frantically Hurse implores him to reconsider Porno Lad’s mind has been made up. With bag over shoulder and street gear still adorning his frame the Co-Submission Champion is about to leave the building.

Hurse: You can’t let the terrorists win, Ethan.

This appeal has frozen Porno Lad in mid-step.

Hurse: If you leave and bail on the Gauntlet then you’re just giving into the demands of the terrorists. And you know that as Americans we can’t give into such demands.

He thinks for a second, which is already risking too much.

Porno Lad: I’ve got no choice.

He adjusts the strap of the bag over his shoulder and inches towards the exit.

Hurse: Sure you do! Are you even listening to yourself? Your about to throw away your chance of becoming World Champion over some skank.

Porno Lad tries to let the words roll down his back.

Hurse: This whole “chivalry” crap just isn’t your bag baby. All she is is a fuck buddy. You don’t see me flipping out every time one of my socks go missing, do you?

Porno Lad: She’s more than that.

The thought of Porno Lad having a relationship that was predicated on more than just sex leaves Hurse astonished.

Hurse: Huh? Oh yeah right, come off it! Just forget about Susie. It isn’t like your relationship is strictly defined, and she gave you permission to date other people anyway, so no guilt, right?

Porno Lad: I can’t just….I can’t leave her to be…..I have to go.

As his thoughts and feelings become jumbled Porno Lad goes for the door only to have his wrist snatched hold of.

Hurse: Wait. Are you being serious? Is there really something more between you two?

Porno Lad: Do you remember how you felt when Katelyn was kidnapped by the Brat Pack?

Hurse: Are you talking about when I had the really bad gas?

Porno Lad: Emotionally, not physically.

Hurse: Oh yeah.

Porno Lad: Do you remember how you were willing to do anything, including ask for my help, in order to save her?

Hurse: How could I forget. The image of you naked is still seared into my memory.

Porno Lad: Well then, you should know why I’m doing what I’m doing.

Hurse refuses to let go of his wrist as he tries to vacate the building once more.

Hurse: Susie wouldn’t want you to abandon your teammate, Porny. She’d want you to win.

Porno Lad: I don’t care what Susie wants. If I can keep her safe by making this sacrifice then I’m going to do it. For once I’m not going to bail on a relationship when things get tough. I’m not going to give up.

Hurse: Isn’t that exactly what your doing right now by ditching this match?

Once again Porno Lad is given food for thought, but he isn’t about to sit down and have a four course meal.

Porno Lad: Your just gonna have to deal.

The exit door flies open and he frees his wrist before leaving the New Alhambra arena. A dejected Hurse watches through sullen eyes, having no idea what he’s going to do later tonight now that he’s without a partner.

REBIRTH

“You Know My Name”

The fans are in a frenzy, throwing up their Orlando signs and getting positively giddy. With no trepidation, not a moment’s delay, the President stomps through the curtains and makes his way towards the ring. He doesn’t even give the ringside crew time to clean the canvas of all the weapons used in that previous bout. With jacket removed, sleeves rolled up and eyes burning with intensity, the Icon looks ready to handle some business.

Mark: We saw Orlando leaving his office after that announcement from Christian Savior and Robin Brooks, that they would be entering the gauntlet as a team. Obviously it isn’t sitting well with him.

Evermore: And that seafood I eluded to earlier isn’t sitting well in my stomach either. They should really have bed pans out here or something.

Mark: Well I would imagine that now is NOT the opportune time for a bathroom break, because Orlando has got something important on his mind and the Icon isn’t going to be shy about sharing.

A microphone is quickly supplied to the Icon who snatches it then turns his full, undivided attention towards the entry way.

Orlando: Frankly I’m sick of long promos instead of great wrestling, especially when it comes to pay-per-views, but I’m not going to sit around and bite my tongue when it comes time to put my foot down.

The crowd whole heartedly endorses this notion, equally as peeved by the actions of two stars in particular.

Cruze: And no Katelyn, it’s not your stiletto that is going down, it’s my boot going up each and every one of your asses. I’m talking about you too Christian. Nobody is as stupid as you girls, Christian once again included, seem to think we are. Everyone, me, the fans in this building, the fans watching at home…

He points to the camera to make the paying audience feel special.

Orlando:….the dogs and cats who are hypnotized by the bright flashy colors on the television screen, everyone, everything, human or animal, knows that Robin and Christian had a hand in what happened. The whole universe, from single cell organism to those with higher brain function, know that Jackson Adams and Pat Evans were attacked by their own tag team partners.

Comeau: Amen to that.

Orlando: And if you think attacking Evans and Adams, forcing them out of the gauntlet, entitles the two of you to pick your own tag team partners, your high off your ass.

Loud applauding.

Cruze: I’m the only one who makes decisions of that magnitude. Neither of you are King for a Day, so neither of you have any right to call the shots. So I’m here to tell you two a word you don’t hear nearly often enough, NO. No Christian, no Robin, neither of you will team together tonight.

More applauding.

Orlando: You made your bed now you’re going to sleep in it. If Adams nor Evans are able to compete, then Robin and Christian will have to enter the gauntlet on their own, meaning one of them at a time versus TWO opponents.

Evermore: Seems perfectly fair in my book.

Mark: Then we’re both reading from the same book.

The passionate Cruze continues to whip the crowd up into a wave of adrenaline as he proceeds with his speech.

Orlando: Of course your participation in that gauntlet isn’t a given. For you see I have some demands of my own. Number 1 being that Susie Moore is safely returned to this ring RIGHT NOW, and number 2 being that you divulge the identity of “Mr. X.”

The thought of the mystery ending not only appeases Cruze, but the crowd as well.

Cruze: So Christian, Robin, I’m giving you two to the count of three. If your not out here with Susie and ready to tell the truth, then I will have no other recourse, no other option, than to…..

Orlando, Orlando, Orlando, calm down….

A cold shiver goes up Orlando’s spine, an all too familiar voice haunting him from the past. An audible gasp can be heard from the crowd as Dan Douglas steps to the stage, microphone gripped in hand and cruel smile on his face.

Comeau: Ooooohhh no.

Axl: You took the words right out of my mouth.

Douglas, dressed in slimming black, moves to the stage with a slight limp. It seems he still hasn’t FULLY recovered from the extensive injuries inflicted on him during Steel Cage Elimination over four months ago at Paranoia VI. Despite the hitch in his step Dan still reeks of arrogance.

Douglas: Won’t you just take a second to breathe and to THINK.

A finger taps his temple, an area of Douglas’ anatomy that Orlando would just love to pummel.

Dan: But most importantly, you and everyone else in Philly, should take the time to live up to this city’s motto. I demand that you all show me why this oversized ghetto is referred to as the “City of Brotherly Love.” Go on, give me the adulation I deserve. This is my HOMECOMING after-all.

Each words drips of egotism and unsettles Orlando to his very core. He is still too stunned to even respond.

Douglas: After you’ve finished embracing my heroic return, I want you to pause and think Cruze, think about the words you used moments ago. Most importantly though, I want you to concentrate on your misconceptions, your verbal faux pas. That way things will become much clearer. You’ll begin to understand how Christian and Robin came to the consensus that they could call the shots. You’ll start to see why Savior was so unconcerned by the concept of you firing him. And finally, you’ll realize why I’m standing here in the New Alhambra arena tonight.

While the crowd would usually adore references to their arena and their hometown, on the occasion they have the polar opposite reaction.

Dan: When you said that YOU were the only one who had the power to call the shots around here, you were clearly mistaken. Because I still hold a fifty percent stake in this company, meaning that I have just as much power as you do, and I can wield it in whatever way I see fit.

Orlando: Are you still doped on pain medication?

Douglas looses his smile and Orlando regains his own.

Cruze: I guess all those shots to the head I gave you at Paranoia VI are having lingering effects on your brain. Otherwise you would see the futility in going down this road with me again. We both know where it ends Dan. We both know where it’s going to take us. Do you really want to challenge my authority, Douglas? Do you really want to play games with me? It didn’t end very well for you the first time now did it?

The chuckling Douglas is quite amused by the references to Steel Cage Elimination, where Orlando and Kingdom collectively put him on the shelf for almost half a year.

Orlando: So if your coming back to start stacking the deck in Christian’s favor again, maybe YOU should be the one who takes a second and THINKS.

Douglas: Oh I’ve had plenty of time for that Cruze. When you’re laid out in a hospital bed for two months you pretty much have all the time in the world to think. And you know what I thought about the most, Orlando? I thought about REVENGE, on you, and Johnny. I thought about the cruelest way to obtain that revenge. Would you like to know what I came up with?

Cruze: No, but I’m sure your going to fill us in.

Dan: Goodie. As I underwent weeks upon weeks of painful physical therapy it came to me. I had an epiphany. You see Cruze, I’ve noticed your absence from Riot! over the past few weeks. And I know that you’re using this lame excuse about spending time with your wife and kids, but that’s not the truth. Believe me, I’ve met your wife and your children, I’d rather put a bullet in my brain than spend five minutes alone with them.

If Orlando had a gun in hand he’d fulfill Douglas’ fantasy.

Douglas: We know that you’re just not suited to be a boss. You don’t trust yourself with authority, that’s why you’ve been passing the buck to other ineffectual leaders with this whole King for a Day, RAW guest host rip off crap. You don’t dress like a boss, you don’t act like a boss, and you don’t have the commanding presence of a boss. Well sir, I’m telling you now that there will be no more passing of the buck, because the buck stops HERE!

He points to the stage beneath his feet.

Dan: No more Kings, no more hosts, no more nothing. I’m going to solve our little dilemma, plug the power vacuum that my absence and your negligence has created. I’m here tonight to announce that I have hired a brand new figure head to represent me and defend my beliefs on a weekly basis.

Mark: What?

Douglas: I’m here to tell you, Orlando, that you can spend as much time as you want with the kiddies, because MY baby will be protected. The IWC will be steered in a whole new direction, because the man I’ve selected does have that commanding presence, he does dress like a boss, he does have the decorum of a boss. That man I’m referring to, is an individual that stands by his beliefs, that stands up for his principles. That man is my new representative, CHRISTIAN SAVIOR!

This announcement is met with a resounding wave of boos.

Mark: Oh you’ve got to be pulling my chain.

Evermore: Actually it feels more like we’ve been castrated.

Douglas once again finds himself amused by the expression on Orlando’s face.

Dan: And his reign begins TONIGHT.

The chuckling Dan limps through the curtains with Master of Puppets kicking on in the background. Orlando watches with horror, realizing that he now has to share power with the Rising Phoenix.

Mark: We’ve all just been thrown a HUGE curveball by Dan Douglas. He returns and shocks the world with the announcement that Christian Savior has been named his new liaison, a role previously held by Sallie and Krissie. This is going to have devastating effects on the entire IWC roster.

Evermore: It’s times like these I really wish I hadn’t signed that contract renewal.

Orlando hangs his head, the full magnitude of Douglas’ announcement finally sinking in upon him.

BAD TIMING

The limping Douglas moves through the curtains to the backstage area, looking about as pleased with himself as any dictator could be. The grin on his face is as strong as concrete and as hard to break. That doesn’t stop several individuals from attempting to shatter it however, namely the Big Crazy Bastard, and the Team Leader.

After passing by Simon Cagero and Too Magnificent who are warming up in the gorilla position, receiving a chilling stare from both men, Dan runs into a wall of flesh. Johnny Kingdom, World Title present over shoulder, and AWOL tower before the Co-President of the IWC, ensuring that he doesn’t take another step.

Johnny: Oh I’m sorry, are we keeping you from something?

The muscles in Dan’s face are twitching.

AWOL: I think he needs to get to his Hitler Youth meeting.

Kingdom: Ahhh, so your off to inspire the next generation of little Eichmanns.

Dan: I don’t have to explain myself to you.

The dictator tries to pass but AWOL steps in his way, burning a hole into the President with his malicious gaze. Dan noticeably gulps as if he swallowed a toad.

Douglas: Although I guess I could take a moment to catch up with old friends.

The mere notion that Kingdom and Douglas could EVER be chummy is truly unsettling to the Team Leader.

Johnny: You know Dan, I think you may just be the WORSE business man I’ve ever known.

Douglas: Oh?

Johnny: Have you ever made one decision that was actually good for business?

Douglas: Plenty.

Kingdom: Really? Well let’s see. You try to push guys like me, AWOL, and Orlando completely out of the business, even though we’ve been proven draws, and then you try to replace us with the likes of Christian Savior and Pat Evans, who couldn’t sell out a bingo hall. Then you come back and make a completely short-sighted decision by naming Christian as your liaison, which I’m assuming is code for man whore. How is any of this good business, explain.

Clearly Douglas isn’t about to answer for his decision making, especially when it’s Kingdom asking the questions.

Douglas: The best thing about being boss is that I don’t HAVE to explain any decisions that I make.

Johnny: Your stock holders probably wouldn’t like to hear that.

AWOL: As if the IWC stock wasn’t already in the toilet. I’m just glad I sold my stocks while they were still somewhat lucrative.

Kingdom: Yes, didn’t they go towards buying your ex that fancy new wrist watch?

AWOL groans.

AWOL: Actually from what I heard, she used it to upholster her new Hummer seats with leather.

Johnny: That’s probably a far wiser investment than intrusting Christian Savior with power.

Douglas was just starting to wonder when the idle chatter would get back to him.

Douglas: Gentlemen, believe me, I do what I do out of the best interests of this company.

Johnny and AWOL are equally dumbfounded by such a suggestion.

Dan: Things were in chaos due to Orlando’s HORRIBLE mismanagement techniques and now, well, now everything’s back in order.

Johnny: Not to sound like some valley girl from a 1990’s film but “AS IF!”

AWOL: If anything you just shot the IWC in the foot.

Douglas: I did no such thing. My decision ensures that the company will maturate and continue to evolve. It will keep on growing well beyond when you two FINALLY decide to stop sucking it dry and taking it for everything it’s worth.

Kingdom: It’s sad really….

Douglas: What’s that?

Johnny: It’s sad that the Exodus Finale I gave you during Steel Cage Elimination did NOTHING to shake some sense into you. Although it did have the same effect on you as it did on Desolation, it’s left you retarded.

Dan: I’m not surprised you would think that way, Johnny.

Kingdom: So your admitting that you ARE retarded then.

Dan stops to think about it for a second.

Douglas: NO! What I’m trying to insinuate is that whenever people stop catering to you exclusively you assume their either an idiot, or biased.

AWOL: Seems both are true for you.

Douglas scorns AWOL with his gaze.

Douglas: You think I’m biased?

Johnny: If you do not know the answer to that question then you obviously don’t watch my promos.

Dan: Okay then. I’ll show you that I’m not biased. That I am a good businessman. I’ll book a match right here, right now that will send the ratings for Riot! through the roof. Because next week it’s going to be Johnny Kingdom one on one, mono a mono, vie a vie with……

Douglas’ face quickly turns towards the Big Crazy Bastard.

Douglas: AWOL!

The reactions from both Kingdom and AWOL show just how opposed to this idea they truly are.

Douglas: There you go, that aught to appease the smarks.

The President keeps on walking, leaving Johnny and AWOL to exchange a rather tense glare.

MATCH GRAPHIC

An image suddenly flashes over the screen featuring each participant in this gauntlet standing side by side.

Mark: A HUGE match now booked for the next edition of Riot!, but nothing can be as big as the match coming up next.

Evermore: Not true, what about an epic rematch between Hulk Hogan and the Dungeon of Doom?

Comeau: Six teams ladies and gentlemen are on the verge of competing for almost every time we have here in the IWC. Who will walk away as the ultimate victor and with gold around their waists?

TAG TEAM GAUNTLET

The graphic for the main event fades and we are back live inside the New Alhambra Arena. The crowd is obviously ready, nay, pumped for the impending bout, with five titles, six teams, one ultimate winner. They sink into their seats and await the human chess game that shall follow, where strategy will determine wins and survival.

Mark: It’s finally here, Axl. The Tag Team Gauntlet.

Evermore: Thank God, I actually made it through the whole show without having my mic cut once.

Mark: I’m proud of you too. But let’s take a second not to dwell on censorship, but on the stipulations for this Tag Team Gauntlet, as some MAJOR changes have just been made.

A tale of the tape-esque image overtakes the screen with a full listing of every sacred rule, every physical requirement, and those wonderful little tidbits for one to wrap their mind around.

Comeau: Six teams vying for just about EVERY title in the IWC. Two teams start, when one is eliminated, another team enters. Titles can change hands multiple times, and if a double champion is pinned then they lose BOTH titles. If that individual came into the match with a championship, they also lose the one that they brought to the dance.

Evermore: Nice metaphor, I never pegged you for a dancer, Mark. You don’t look very light on your feet.

Mark: I also have thin ankles.

Axl: Hmmm, you might want to talk to Max then, you may be able to market that to the fetish community.

Comeau: Anyway, it’s time to bring out team number one. This team will certainly have a very tough night considering they’ll have to outlast FIVE other groups.

Evermore: Nobody likes a show off, Mark. Stop flaunting your mathematical abilities in front of the audience.

Mark: Do I detect sarcasm?

Axl: If you didn’t, then you should have a MRI. And does the word DUH’ mean anything to you? OF COURSE this team is going to be in for a tough time, we GET IT!

Mark: Oh, then I’ll be quiet now.

The crowd waits anxiously, determined to find out who, WHO will be the unfortunate duo saddled with that dreaded number one spot. Certainly on this occasion, being number one won’t be worth bragging about.

“Animal I’ve Become

The lyrics hit the PA system and slaps the fans in their faces, snapping them out of it. Although in most cases a slap is used to forcefully subdue an out of control person, this time it inspires a rabid reaction from the crowd.

Mark: Simon Cagero and Too Magnificent, they comprise team number one, and I think if anybody can make it through starting at number one it will be the Motherfuckers of America.

Axl: Their like a man’s gas after eating beans and cabbage, their presence just lingers in the room for eternity.

Comeau: I’m not sure I get that analogy, clearly I think a little higher of them than you do.

Evermore: You’d kind of have to.

Mark: I think Too Magnificent and Cagero represent the perfect blend of styles. You got the high flying Cagero, and the raw, untamed powerhouse, Too Magnificent. These two have gelled perfectly over the past few weeks, I bet they’ll take this whole match, just wait and see.

Axl: Careful now, you don’t want anyone to think your betting on the matches, for one they’ll call you an idiot, and secondly you could be thrown out of wrestling faster than Pete Rose out of major league baseball.

Every unblinking eye in the building is glued to the stage, the crowd panting like dogs, their tails wagging with suspense. The suspense builds, and builds, and builds….people are starting to check their watches….and builds, and builds….they now check their tickets for refund information.

Mark: Where are they?

Axl: Oh jeez, let me check my crystal ball and tell you. I DON’T KNOW. Maybe the officials can’t separate Too Magnificent’s cock from the trashcan.

Finally the suspense pays off not a second too late. Instead of a denouement the crowd gets even more to speculate about. The big screen lights up and gives everyone a view of the chaos consuming the gorilla position. Where most competitors would normally be warming up with some stretching, Too Magnificent and Simon take up sparring. Not with themselves but with Riggs and Psycho.

Mark: The MOA being attacked by the Cartel Champion and the Painted Warrior backstage. We don’t have to wait to see these two teams tee off.

Evermore: It’s not like I was actually anticipating seeing that. I’d rather watch the final episode of Roseanne.

Fists fly, as do obscenities. Of course naughty words aren’t nearly as painful as closed fists, kicks, and flying debris.

Although completely caught off guard Cagero has turned and is trading shots with the man he’s developed an intense rivalry with in Riggs. The two trade shot after shot, gripping the back of their heads and pulling one another closer to their jabs. The man that Psycho initially targeted in this ambush, Too Magnificent, is now mounting a comeback. His fist drills the Cartel Champion under the jaw several times, knocking him down the corridor.

He even turns, scoops up a wet floor caution sign and throws it straight into Psycho’s forehead. The hard plastic smacks him directly in the nose, almost breaking it. If Psycho’s face wasn’t chiseled from stone it would be.

Axl: I have to commend Psycho for doing something smart in catching their opponents completely off guard. Although, now that I say that, I feel the sudden compulsion to shower.

Mark: So do I, kinda. But from what I’m being told now, Psycho and Riggs didn’t even draw the number 2 slot.

Axl: That’s a shame, they have so much in common with the number 2.

Riggs nails a knife edge chop on Cagero which sends him spinning right into the chalkboard where the arrangement of matches is written. The board becomes clasped in Simon’s hand, then used as a weapon. It actually shatters against Riggs’ arm, causing him to double over and recoil from the pain.

Comeau: I did not expect the gauntlet to start off like this.

Evermore: Really? You do remember the company we work for right?

With broken chunks of chalk spilling from Riggs body he staggers like a zombie towards the ring. However, while others might be driven by a need for brains, Riggs is driven by his compulsion for violence.

Mark: I think they’re coming out here, Axl.

Axl: RATS!

Evermore’s thumping of the table with his fist can be overheard. Although that would have been an appropriate time to cut his mic, the production staff doesn’t want to miss even a second of this action. Said action is really heating up as now the fans watch first hand the chaos created by both these teams.

Psycho is the first to come staggering through the curtains, looking as if his plans have backfired. The Magnificent One follows, tracking Psycho like a bloodhound on the heels of a convict. He rushes up behind Psycho and goes for a lariat only to have the Cartel Champion turn in the nick of time to catch him with a back drop. Too Mag flips over and then plummets to the steel, where he arches his back from the near crippling pain.

Comeau: Ahhhh, this brawl is going to take a very serious toll on the Motherfuckers of America.

Axl: I bet your wishing you hadn’t made that bet, because now I’m actually going to take you up on it.

With his back bridging from the steel Too Magnificent tries to laugh through the pain. The chuckles stop once his ribs are almost caved into his lungs thanks to the leaping senton splash right across his mid-section. Psycho drove all his weight into the back first plunge, ensuring that the most physical damage that could have been, WAS done.

Psycho’s partner is sharing from the same good fortune, Riggs still all shaken up by that blow from the chalkboard. He can barely even hold himself up as he bumbles through the curtains.

Those thin black sheets are the only thing that support him, his hands clasping the curtains with all his remaining strength. If he had allowed himself to fall maybe he would have avoided disaster, disaster in the form of another suicidal move from the reckless Cagero. The moment that the fans get an up close and personal look at Simon, he’s leaping into the air, grabbing the bottom of the Cartel-tron and swinging his legs into Rigg’s neck.

They wrap around his neck and clasp together at the shins, allowing Simon to release the big screen, drop back and deliver a hurricarana.

Mark: WHOOOAAA!

Evermore: God your easily impressed. Your probably more easily impressed than Susie.

The back of Riggs’ head looks to have taken the brunt of the punishment, which is never a good thing. He sits up and grunts through the pain, unaware that Cagero has turned his focus to Psycho. The Cartel Champion is in the middle of badmouthing Too Magnificent, threatening him with all types of violence should he allow his loose-lips to sink ships.

Secrets, and the keeping of them, shouldn’t be Psycho’s primary focus though, as it leaves him exposed to an attack. Cagero barrels towards him and Psycho turns just in time to catch him with a hip toss. To the Sadistic One’s disbelief though, Simon flips forward and lands directly on his feet.

He then turns just in time to see Psycho cocking back his fist, preparing for a knock-out blow. What he hadn’t counted on was the recuperative capabilities of his rival. Too Magnificent has risen to his knees behind Psycho, wedged his hands to his back and shoved him forward. All Simon has to do now is side step his fist and push him along as Psycho goes flying off the ramp and crashing chest first into the top of a barricade.

Mark: OUCH! I’m starting to think that Psycho and Riggs are regretting their strategy. Maybe they’re the ones who won’t go into this gauntlet at one hundred percent.

Axl: I think that’s a pretty safe assumption based on what we’ve seen.

Comeau: You have to be liking this considering that you have a future date with whomever the Cartel Champion is in the future. And if Psycho somehow makes it out of here with the title, moves like the one we just saw will leave him far below 100 percent.

Evermore: Believe me, I’d rather have Psycho at his best.

Regardless of what Axl wants, Psycho is showing that he’ll be nowhere near top shape for any future match, laying on the concrete, arms cradling his bruised, possibly cracked sternum. The recovered Too Magnificent and Simon Cagero focus their attack on Riggs, considering he’s the closest and prime prey. He’s grabbed by the hair, led to his feet and dragged towards the ring.

Mark: They’re bringing Riggs straight towards the ring. Once again ladies and gentlemen, Riggs and Psycho are not, ARE NOT, team number two. I guess they just wanted to assault Simon and Too Mag to ensure they would be eliminated and eliminated early.

Evermore: Basically they wanted to spoil their night.

Comeau: Well this strategy didn’t prove effective for Riggs at Upping the Ante, I don’t know why he would try jumping Cagero before the match yet again.

Simon hasn’t forgotten Upping the Ante, he has forgotten the kindo stick to the skull, it’s these memories that fuel him. The passionate Cagero and the golden goliath reach the ring where they roll Riggs in under the ropes.

Simon: I’m sure you remember Upping the Ante too, don’t ya!?!

Simon’s screams to Riggs become much more understandable once he reaches under the ring. Obviously he was foreshadowing the use of a table. Too Magnificent slides the wood out from under the ring, the very weapon that spelt disaster for Riggs at the last pay-per-view.

He and Simon set it up on the apron and prepare to lay it down flat in order to slide it easily into the ring. The last thing Riggs is going to allow is to make things easier for his rivals. He rushes across the ring and drops into a baseball slide dropkick, intending to kick the table back into the sternums of both rivals. His attempt, fails.

As soon as he slides under the ropes, Too Magnificent and Cagero hoist the table into the air, Riggs slipping right under it. He lands on his feet behind both men, eyes opening wide as they back towards him table stretched out between them.

Riggs possesses the speed of a cheetah, ducking the inbound table, rushing at the apron then springing off of it into a moonsault. He flips into the table, bringing it down right on top of both opponents.

Mark: WOOOOOWWW!

Evermore: Impressive, and stupid.

Comeau: Might I suggest that somebody send security out here before these two teams kill each other? Does nobody realize that their not supposed to be fighting each other just yet?

Evermore: I’m pretty sure nobody actually cares.

Mark: Oh, well that would explain it.

The fans certainly DO care, obvious by their slapping of the barricades and their stomping feet. Although there was no bell, they treat this brawl as if it were an actual match, riveted by every barbaric second of it. Riggs staggers to his feet, doubled over and gripping at his mangled mid-section. He then looks down at the unbroken table and the two bodies pinned under it.

Simon is naturally the first man targeted by Riggs’ wrath. His hair is clutched and he’s pulled out from under the table like he were a child freed from a pile of rubble, but Riggs’ intentions aren’t nearly that heroic. A European Uppercut drills Simon to the jaw and sends him reeling into the apron. Just as he crashes into it he instinctively rolls under the ropes and into the ring.

Riggs follows, not about to let him get very far, although Simon has other intentions. He gets to his feet, albeit hunched over then unleashes a VICIOUS superkick on the inbound jaw of Riggs. The strike is so stiff it renders Riggs unconscious upon impact, he hits the canvas as if he were struck down by the hand of God himself.

Comeau: Scintillating kick from Cagero, KNOCKING Riggs out cold.

Axl: If there’s one thing I know about emos, it’s that they’ll be right back to smoking cigarettes and writing lame poetry in no time. So I wouldn’t count Riggs out just yet.

Although short on breath Simon calls out to Too Magnificent. The giant is up and he’s got table in hand. The lumber is slid under the ropes and into Cagero’s waiting clutches. He lifts the table into the air and quickly begins to prop it up.

Comeau: Simon determined to give us a case of déjà vu. He wants to put Riggs through that table a SECOND time.

Simon is determined to make Riggs PAY for his many random attacks, stretching him out on the table then giving him a good punch right to the forehead. The jab ensures that Riggs will not move, that he’ll be unable to do as Simon did last time he was in this position.

Cagero holds his victim in place while Too Magnificent begins ascending the turnbuckle. Anticipation builds to a crescendo as the crowd rises from their feet, wild eyed and exasperated, realizing that the big man is about to fly.

Once both feet are planted Too Magnificent prepares to take flight and connect with the Arrogance is Bliss, a leg drop well worth the punishment it’ll inflict on his own body.

Mark: Oh come off it, don’t kill yourself Too Magnificent, it’s not worth it.

Axl: Considering that this is Too Magnificent and the fact that he’s accomplished zilch in his career I actually think it would be worth killing himself just to put a man through a table.

Whatever motivates Too Magnificent he is still inspired to take that fateful leap. He just begins to go airborne much to the delight of the fans and his partner but he takes an unexpected flip towards the outside of the ring. Instead of going leg first through a victim’s throat, TM crashes spine first into the thin protective mats. His back is possibly shattered upon impact, left crippled at the hands of the Cartel Champion.

Mark: Psycho coming to his partner’s aid in a big way, shoving Too Magnificent from that turnbuckle and my God, he may have cracked every bone on that landing.

Axl: We can always hope.

No matter how many bones may be shattered and vital organs lanced, Too Magnificent is already trying to get back up, TRYING being the optimum word. He knows that Simon is now outnumbered, but what he forgets is that Cagero is capable of defending himself no matter the odds.

He rushes straight at Psycho, drops into a baseball slide and hits the Cartel Champion’s shin with both feet. The blow knocks Psycho off of the apron and causes his face to collide with it on the way down.

The crowd reacts to the thud, somewhat repulsed by the sound of bone possibly cracking. Simon isn’t repulsed by that sound, he’s inspired by it. He rises to his feet just in time to spot Riggs climbing up on top of the table. He leaps from the wood and comes crashing down straight into Simon’s throat with a lariat.

Or so that was his intention, instead of connecting with the clothesline his arm hits nothing but air. Simon ducked just in time and as a result Riggs’ swing arm carries him into the turnbuckle. He falls against it spine first just as Simon lunges into the air and nails him with a forearm to the face.

Once the blow has Riggs rocked Simon quickly hoists him up to the top rope, still determined to send him through the wood.

Evermore: Looks like Riggs is going through the table one way or another. He’ll be laying on his back again tonight, after this move and after the show. I think Psycho is more of a “on top” kind of guy.

Riggs wavers on the turnbuckle like a leaf caught in a strong wind. He sways from side to side, almost going over as Simon climbs to the second rope and cocks back his fist to deliver a blow. Riggs prevents it by driving his own skull straight into his rival’s temple.

Obviously the knocking of the heads leaves Simon a little worse for wear. Now he’s the one swaying on the verge of going over. Riggs isn’t about to let that happen, at least not without a little help. He reaches out, hooks both of Cagero’s arms and jumps off of the top rope, putting Simon head first through the table with a super double underhook DDT!

Mark: NOOOOOO!

Axl: I’m sure you’ve heard many a woman scream that before.

The fans watch with stunned expressions on their pale white faces. Their hands are interlocked and placed on their heads, having no idea what to do with them or any other piece of their anatomy. They are shell-shocked by the image of Riggs driving his rival skull first through the wood, a move that no doubt just destroyed Cagero’s chances of leaving X-Class Champion.

Evermore: Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s safe to assume that the Motherfuckers of America aren’t going to win this match.

Mark: I’ll go a step further and say it’s safe to assume that Cagero may never wrestle again after what we just witnessed. Riggs may have just ended his career.

Riggs relays this very assumption to a comatose Cagero, shouting in his ear as he stoops over him and the broken fragments of wood.

Riggs: I hope retirement is blissful.

A deep laugh emanates from Riggs’ lungs, the type of laugh usually associated with a twirling of a mustache. He seems more than pleased with his handiwork, having left Simon incapable of completing this match. Upon realizing this he backs away, grin stretching from ear to ear. A smile on Riggs’ face is a rare sight, so one can tell that this must be the happiest moment of his life, finally shutting Simon up.

He bails from the ring and Psycho joins him at the edge of the ramp. The two look shaken up yet satisfied with the state they’ve left their rivals in.

Mark: Psycho and Riggs jump Too Magnificent and Simon before this match, and now they’re leaving them for the vultures that drew number two.

Evermore: If I were team number two I’d definitely have a fruit basket in the mail for Psycho and Riggs. Although mine would probably have razors in the apples.

Grins remain plastered on both men’s faces as they back up the ramp and continue admiring their handiwork, having left Too Magnificent paralyzed at ringside, and Simon comatose in the center of the squared circle. The second they turn their backs, the vultures do indeed descend. Robin Brooks is the first individual sighted climbing over the barricade then quickly attacking Too Magnificent with stomps from behind.

In the meanwhile Christian slides into the ring and kneels on the canvas, repeatedly thumping the ring with both fists. He waits like a coiled snake for Simon to reach his feet, and the wait is excruciating.

Mark: Ohhhh noooo, oh man. Not these two, don’t tell me they drew the number 2 spot.

Axl: Or more accurately someone picked that number for them. Seems awfully convenient they’d be this fortunate.

The fans are now in search for complimentary barf bags, having no idea that the IWC charges for such perks. They are so sickened you would think they were suffering food poisoning from the barely cooked hotdogs. They’re given much more to make them queasy the second that Simon begins fighting his way up from the shards of wood.

While such an occasion would normally be cause for celebration, the crowd moved by his heroic display of courage and perseverance, today they beg him to stay down. They know what Simon doesn’t, that he’s setting himself up for disaster. Cagero finally does reach his feet, and feels awfully proud of himself to do so. That’s before honor is stripped away thanks to the spear that nearly shatters his mid-section.

Evermore: Believe me, that spear is more than just a running hug, it’s painful.

Mark: BLAZE OF GLORY! Christian connecting and putting Cagero down, possibly for good.

The official, Stuart Wright is finally sliding into the ring, having remained behind the time keeper during all the madness and only entering now due to Christian’s attempted pinfall. As his hand slaps the canvas the crowd looks around for the lightest item they can throw towards the ring.

And with that Simon’s X-Class Title reign comes to an end. Thanks to Riggs putting him head first through the table Cagero was left powerless to kick out, as defenseless as a Goldfish flopping on the floor. Christian squished the very life out of him and has taken what he cherished the most, his title.

Axl: And within seconds of the match starting we already have the first title change.

Mark: What an absolute shame. Christian takes back his X-Class Title by pinning a man who was in no condition to defend his title. The Motherfuckers of America are going to be out for revenge after tonight.

Savior sits up with eyes closed and fists pumping towards the sky, celebrating his reunion with the X-Class Championship, the very belt that Simon took from him weeks ago.

Comeau: If Christian wasn’t tough enough to deal with already, now he’ll be impossible to get along with once he starts bragging about pinning Cagero and taking his title.

Evermore: Yeah, as you hinted, he was impossible to get along with already.

Mark: Whether we like it or not, Robin and Christian now move on this gauntlet while Too Magnificent and Simon will no doubt have to be carted away from it.

Savior continues celebrating, almost weeping tears of joy to have finally gotten the Cagero monkey off of his back. Even while being clubbed repeatedly over the back Too Magnificent leans against the apron and watches with actual sadness in his eyes as the loathed Savior’s arm is raised in victory.

Mark: Christian regains the X-Class Title, and the Motherfuckers of America are sadly done for the night.

Robin slips into the ring, smiling so wide you would think that she just scored the pin. With the Submission Title draped over her shoulder Robin enters the ring where she shoves the official aside and takes over propping Christian’s arm. Savior rises to his feet and chuckles menacingly over his accomplishment, Simon being rolled out of the ring in the process.

Neither the Black Widow nor the Rising Phoenix are aware what is happening outside of the ring, if they were Brooks would suddenly be remorseful that she hadn’t finished Too Magnificent off. The tarp hanging from the apron is thrown into the air and Too Magnificent reaches under the ring retrieving a trashcan.

Axl: Ohhhh Christian, ohhh Robin. You two might want to take a look behind you.

Nothing can remove the grin from Savior’s face, well, with the exception of the trashcan now being swung into it. An impression of Christian’s pearly whites are left in the steel that leaves him laying on the canvas. Robin twirls just in time for the can to crush her skull as well, incapacitating her.

Mark: Too Magnificent exacting revenge on behalf of he and Cagero. It’s good to see him take a stand against both these vultures.

The trashcan is tossed out of the ring and Too Magnificent replaces it with Cagero. He rolls out of the ring dragging an unconscious Simon along behind him, then lifts the former World Champion over his shoulder. Simon is no more than dead weight as Too Magnificent lugs him towards the backstage area.

Comeau: It is such a shame to see the Motherfuckers of America eliminated in such a manner. First they’re ambushed by Psycho and Riggs, then Riggs puts Cagero through the table, followed conveniently by Robin and Savior showing up to pin him, resulting in our first title change.

Evermore: I don’t think either the Robin or Christian are content with clean wins. They actually go out of their way to make themselves look inferior. Not that it takes much work at all to do so.

Mark: Well they suffered, and suffered in a very bad way for their actions, both competitors on the receiving end of a Too Magnificent beat-down.

Despite the punishment inflicted on both of his adversaries Too Magnificent still isn’t pleased. He continues carrying Cagero up the ramp while in the ring Christian and Robin desperately try to recover. They toss and turn, skulls aching from such traumatizing blows. They’ve been left a free meal for whomever the next team may be, and that team is none other than….

“HOUSE OF THE RISING SUN”

The moment that the lyrics of EverEve kick in the crowd goes nuts. It doesn’t take long for Hurse to storm through the opening doors of the subway car, realizing that he has a very small window of opportunity.

Mark: Wow oh wow, perfect timing on Hurse’s part even if it isn’t by his own design.

Axl: I think this will be Hurse’s best chance at eliminating a team, probably his ONLY chance actually.

Mark: Yes, considering that Porno Lad took HIMSELF out of this match.

The Master of Control barrels down the ramp and slides into the ring, looking to make quick work of his damaged prey, in much the same way that Christian did to Cagero moments ago. Savior isn’t Hurse’s target though, it’s Robin. He swoops in, takes hold of both her legs, twists her to her stomach and steps over the back. He wrenches on the legs, applying the Legend Lock.

Mark: He goes straight after Robin and her Submission Championship.

Evermore: Would have thunk it.

Brooks cuts loose with a loud, piercing scream, her back being bent at an ungodly angle. She takes on the appearance of a pretzel, her feet almost touching the back of her head. The pain is so excruciating that she’s already on the verge of submission, lifting her palm into the air, letting it linger above the canvas.

Mark: Are we going to see another quick elimination and title change? Will Brooks submit to her ex-lover and finally relinquish her ownership of the Submission Championship?

Evermore: Looks pretty obvious to me, so maybe you should cut the endless string of questioning and stop building suspense around something not all that suspenseful.

Robin’s face is twisted and contorted by her anguish, her eyes bulging from their sockets and veins dancing in her temples. Her hand comes down to the canvas but stops just short, balling up into a knuckle. She bites her lower lip, trying to push through the trauma, trying to block the agony from her brain.

The crowd’s riotous reaction inspires Hurse to lean forward with his inverted liontamer, further bending Brooks’ spine at a traumatizing angle. Her hand finally comes down towards the canvas but just before a submission can take place Christian dropkicks Hurse directly between the shoulder blades.

The blow sends him staggering forward then spilling through the cables to the outside of the ring.

Mark: And a dropkick saves this team from elimination. Christian playing things a bit risky though, if he allows Robin to submit then she would just lose her Submission Title, BUT if Brooks, or Savior are PINNED, then he will lose HIS Tag Team gold.

Evermore: Thanks yet again for spelling things out to us, Mark. I love that you have to hold our hands through this whole ordeal.

Comeau: Your palms are a little too sweaty, Axl, so I don’t think I would be holding your hand.

Axl: Nor would I let you, perv.

On the outside of the ring Hurse is desperately trying to regain his focus. He stands up arching his back from the dropkick he just suffered, having no idea that Christian is slipping to the apron behind him. Christian charges across the apron and launches himself off towards Hurse who sidesteps the inbound Savior and pushes him right along face first into the steel steps.

Mark: Hurse still got some fight left in him, taking advantage of Christian’s erroneous error. I think Savior is still a little shaken up from that trashcan blow to the ole’ noggin.

Evermore: Go ahead, make excuses for him. If your going to keep covering for Christian’s shortcomings I won’t get a word in all night.

Christian looks completely dazed, as if he’s been on an all night bender as he stumbles back into the waiting clutches of his opposition. With shoulder wedged to spine Hurse heaves Savior up into the air and then plants him back first into the thin protective mats with a back suplex.

The pain is almost crippling, taking almost every ounce of fight out of Christian’s mangled, brutalized body. The adrenaline fueled Hurse rises to his feet, realizing that he needs to move quickly if he wants to maintain this advantage. He leaps back to his feet just in time to spot Robin now back flipping off of the apron into the moonsault. He attempts to duck her but is instead caught around the neck, Brooks landing with the grace of a cat feet first on the mats.

Before Hurse knows it he’s being bridged over backwards and dumped with a sit-out reverse DDT.

Comeau: OUTSTANDING inverted DDT drop by Brooks after that moonsault from the apron, very innovative and most importantly, painful.

Hurse lays on his shoulder, clasping at the back of his cranium, a knot beginning to form just under his hair. The pain pulsates outward through his possibly cracked skull, Brooks realizing this and focusing her attack on the head. She leaps into the air and drops knee first directly into Hurse’s face, causing him to convulse horribly.

Mark: Robin showing some of the intelligence that has led to her holding that Submission Title for close to six months now.

Evermore: Don’t forget to mention her endless supply of plastic bags and her dependence on asphyxiation.

Comeau: Yes, I’m sure we all remember how she retained the belt at Paranoia, Axl. Thanks for the painful reminder.

Now that the Black Widow is dominating she decides to give the fans an earful. No matter how hard they try to cover their ears with their palms, her piercing voice finds a way to their brains.

Brooks: You all shall bow to the Queen, just like THIS peasant.

She kicks at the back of Hurse’s head, lancing the knot and causing blood to begin seeping out. Brooks shows no remorse even as the crimson flows, dragging her ex fiancée to his feet by the jaw and delivering a knife edge chop to his sternum that sends him staggering towards the ring.

Hurse rolls in under the bottom rope, grabbing at his chest which now bears the impression of Brooks’ fingers, a red streak left across his flesh. He seems to stand up purely on instinct then turns just in time to spot Robin springing from the top rope, soaring through the air and almost beheading him with a lariat to the throat.

Evermore: Yikes. You’ll have to excuse me, but there’s something just creepy about watching Robin on the advantage. I guess it’s because it’s a sight I’ve never seen before.

Comeau: Robin OPRESSING her opponent, this ruthless dictator starting a whole new inquisition.

Axl: Wow, those analogies are just….well they’re just…..horrible.

Mark: Yes, I’m kind of ashamed of myself as well.

Axl: You should be.

The Black Widow’s partner is now present in their corner, gripping at his skull, traumatized by the face first plunge into the steel yet asking for the tag. He volunteers his services, and unlike last week Brooks is actually willing to slap his outstretched palm. Christian enters the ring and joins the Black Widow in forcing Hurse to his feet, where both wrists are clutched and the victim is backed into his execution.

He is fired off into the ropes, bouncing off then coming back in at his opposition who duck perhaps prematurely, choreographing their maneuver. Hurse could see it from a mile away, and even in his fragile state he has the good sense to stop in mid-step, then swing his foot up into Robin’s face.

The blow staggers Brooks and Christian stands up on his own, not wanting to receive the same treatment as his partner. No, his fate is far worse as Hurse leaps into the air and tries to take him down with a spinning heel kick. Christian ducks it and Hurse lands on his feet behind his back, then takes off into the ropes.

Hurse has no idea what he’s in store for when he ricochets from the cables and comes back in at his opponents. He gets a bit ahead of himself, not realizing that Robin still has her wits about her. Well, at least enough wits to put her foot in the cupped hands of Christian then be flipped over backwards into a Pele kick!

Mark: WOW!

Axl: Meh’.

Mark: An impressive tag team maneuver, Robin nailing an assisted Pele kick. I think her foot got all the way over Hurse’s head and hit that open wound in the back.

Hurse collapses to his spine, spread across the canvas in a heap while Savior falls into the lateral press. He hooks both legs, looking to advance his team even further into the gauntlet.

Hurse gets his shoulder up, still fighting it out courageously even though he lacks a tag team partner.

Mark: Shoulder up from Hurse. It takes a lot of heart….

Evermore: To be competing in this match without Porno Lad, yadda, yadda, yadda.

Mark: If you remember it was Robin who forced Porno Lad out of this match, by threatening to shave Susie bald if he got involved, as well as inflict serious bodily harm on Moore.

Axl: I guess Axl isn’t into the butch, skin head look then.

A desperate Hurse rolls to his side, his arm just so happening to fall over the middle rope. In anguish he gets both knees under him, leaning throat first against the second cable, clearly having no earthly idea where he is. Christian uses Hurse’s positioning to his advantage, stepping up onto the Master of Control’s back and then grabbing the upper most rope.

He presses down with all his leg strength, choking Hurse out until his face goes blue. Finally the official gets off his ass and into the action, starting a five count and clearly having no problem disqualifying Christian for his actions. Savior steps off Hurse’s back and gives as good as he can take, shouting right back at the official. He even has the audacity to poke the striped shirt of the authority figure, which both greatly angers Wright and takes his focus off the blatant cheating behind his back.

Robin has crawled across the apron and taken Hurse around the back of the head, pulling down on his skull with all her strength, picking up exactly where her partner left off. All the air has abandoned Hurse’s head, looking as if he’s on the verge of going completely braindead.

Axl: Yes, now see, this is what I’m use to seeing out of Brooks. I’m back in my comfort zone.

Mark: Well Hurse isn’t, considering he’s having the life choked out of him by Brooks and the referee is powerless to do anything about it.

Wright pokes Christian back, continuing the pissing contest while Hurse’s life is being choked from his body. Robin gets nose to nose with her ex, spouting off a series of defaming comments, trying to get as deep into his head as possible. If Hurse were conscious he’d probably be more affected by her slanderous statements than he is in his current condition. It’s a condition Christian now tries to capitalize upon.

He wraps his hands around Hurse’s jaw, pulls him away from the ropes and then delivers a inverted neckbreaker. The lacerated area of Hurse’s skull takes much of the impact, the back of his head hitting the canvas forcefully. Savior fluidly rolls into the cover yet in arrogance only hooks ONE leg.

Hurse launches a shoulder from the canvas once more, REFUSING to let his team down, although he’s only a team of one.

Mark: I’m not sure what Hurse is thinking here. I’m pretty sure he’s not going to be able to outlast two more teams entirely on his own.

Evermore: Hey some miracles do happen. Haven’t you ever watched Rudy, you know, little Samwise has a heart ten times bigger than his primordial dwarf body and eventually he plays for the Fighting Irish.

Comeau: Are you crying Axl?

Evermore: Maybe just a little.

Mark: Well it’ll take more than a miracle for Hurse to survive past both Riggs and Simon, and his Empire stable-mates.

Hurse remains defenseless, laying on his side panting and wheezing while Christian wedges his foot to the open wound in the back of his skull. He places both hands on top of his knee-cap, shoving down on it, grating his heel against the broken flesh.

He eventually takes his foot away and then kicks at the lump. Hurse is rolling once more, trying to evade his opponent only be sat up on the canvas with Christian kneeling behind and fish hooking his face with both hands. The nostrils and eyes of the former World Champion are being raked gruesomely in the clutches of the Rising Phoenix. At this point it appears he’ll need facial reconstruction surgery.

Official Wright is jumping all over Christian, using every threat in the book before the fish-hooking is stopped an Savior instead opts to deliver a straight punch to the back of Hurse’s bloodied head. The blow knocks him over onto his elbows and knees before Christian leads him to his feet from this position and connects with a devastating knife edge chop.

Hurse falls against the ropes, loosing blood and loosing all the wind he had left in his sails. The oxygen is once again knocked out of his body by another knife edge chop across the sternum.

Mark: If only Hurse had a partner.

Evermore: Don’t look at me, I’m not volunteering, I’m no sadomasochist.

The hue of Hurse’s chest now matches the color of the back of his head as he’s grabbed by the wrist and shot off into the ropes. Hurse can barely remain on his two feet as he bounces from the far cables and comes back in at Christian who rushes in to deliver a knee to the ribs.

Hurse somehow has the wherewithal to leap over the knee though, catch Savior around the inner thigh, then pull him down into a school boy. Instead of going for the pin, which in retrospect would have been the smart thing to do, Hurse switches from the school boy into a submission predicament.

The crowd pops as Hurse grabs both knees and tries to roll Savior over to his stomach. If it weren’t for Christian’s speed and strength he would certainly fall victim to the Legend Lock. Instead he wedges his feet to Hurse’s chest and shoves him off backwards into the ropes.

Just as he hits the cables Robin grabs him around the jaw, drops off the apron and snaps the back of his head against the top rope. The whiplash sends him staggering forward right into a one man flapjack. Christian hoists Hurse into the air, falls back and slams his opponent face first into the canvas.

The impact causes Hurse to bounce to his back while Savior keeps hold of his leg, stands up and then flips over him into the jackknife cover.

Mark: Christian could have the pin on Hurse, who’s resiliency may have finally run out.

Wright’s hand slaps the canvas and the crowd prepares themselves for heartbreak as a result.

NYOOO! Hurse’s shoulder leaps from the canvas as Christian sits up and gives the official that “are you serious” kind of stare.

Axl: I think for once, as scary as the thought is, that Savior and I have the same question running through our heads right now.

Mark: That is kind of disturbing actually. You’ve really got to give it to Hurse in this match. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen this type of fight out of him.

Axl: It’s been a long time since we’ve seen him fight period.

A disgusted Christian looks for closure as he places Hurse in a dragon sleeper then pulls him up to his feet. While his opponent is still bridged over backwards into the hold, Christian backs towards his corner, reaching out and making the tag.

Brooks ascends quickly to the top rope.

Mark: Oh no, now what do these two have planned? They’ve worked pretty effectively as a team thus far.

Hurse is still bridging back, head completely trapped in Christian’s stranglehold. He has no idea that he’s in for even more pain as Brooks flies off of the top rope and comes crashing down into his ribs with a big splash. At the same time Christian falls into a lay out inverted DDT.

Mark: OHHHH! That has to be it, that has just got to be it at this point. It would be really smart of Hurse NOT TO kick out this time.

Evermore: The only smart thing he could of done tonight was not coming to the ring at all.

Christian writhes and wiggles on the canvas like a worm fighting the tip of a hook. Brooks continues to lay on top of his possibly shattered ribcage, now hooking the leg for the pin.

To the shock and awe of all those convened for this event, Hurse’s shoulder yet again launches from the canvas, keeping his title ambitions alive.

Evermore: Well the words “smart” and “Hurse” have rarely been used in the same sentence for a reason.

Brooks is livid over Hurse’s refusal to just die already. Her frustration shows once she grabs him by the bangs, pulls up on his head and slams him down by the back of his bloody skull into the canvas. She lifts up on his head again then swings it down into the ring, a puddle of blood beginning to form on the canvas at this point.

Mark: Now the referee has to step in and do something about this. Brooks and Savior are on the verge of ending Hurse’s career here. Who knows how much blood has oozed from the back of his head and just how badly shaken up his brain may be.

Evermore: Not that it wasn’t already pretty badly damaged.

Once again Hurse’s head is yanked forward then slammed back down, his eyes beginning to roll to the back of his head. It appears as if Brooks is taking the whole “till death due you part,” portion of the wedding vows a little too literately. She is looking to finally put an end to her rivalry, relationship, any involvement with Hurse at all.

Although every person in the building is outraged by Brooks attempts to end a man’s career only one steps up and does something about it. The mood in the building is greatly altered as Porno Lad charges down the ramp and towards the ring.

Mark: HEY! He’s back!

Evermore: And he’s still wearing that macho man muscle shirt. I bet he’ll be the ball of the Blue Oyster after tonight’s show.

Mark: Porno Lad isn’t about to let his personal life allow for the ending of Hurse’s storybook career.

Evermore: Storybook? Is it written by Dean Koontz?

The fans are so jacked it’s almost as if they were given a straight dose of adrenaline to the heart. Porno Lad looks equally as amped as he removes his shirt, tosses it to the ground and leaps to the apron. He shakes his head all around and extends his arm, waving Hurse towards him in frantic motions.

Comeau: He’s here for the tag and he wants it now!

Axl: Whether Hurse is able to make the tag or not is an entirely different story though, so it really doesn’t matter WHAT Porno Lad wants.

The Original Prankster seems to have come to a reckoning, having ascended to a state of pure epiphany. His hand is outstretched, fingers twiddling in anticipation, anxious to get in there on behalf of his team and help out the man who has taken him under his wing.

Hurse rolls to his side and glares at his partner, outstretching his hand, but that’s as far as Robin lets him go. She steps over his bicep, straddling it and wrapping her hands around the wrist. The malicious Brooks uses Hurse’s hand to wave to Porno Lad, who isn’t about to be taunted. He slips through the ropes and to much fanfare storms straight towards the Black Widow.

Robin quickly jumps back and throws both palms into the air, freezing Porno Lad in mid-step, as if she put some type of paralysis hex on him.

Robin: Do you have a selective memory or something?

Although he may live to regret his next comment Porno Lad is never shy about saying what’s on his mind.

Porno Lad: Listen here you PREGGERS, I’m doing not what’s right by me for once, but what’s right for this company.

The crowd endorses his statement, loving it in fact.

Brooks: Oh? How about what’s right for Susie?

The diabolical sentence is followed by a gesture to the big screen, where some disturbing images unfold. Robin cackles while Porno Lad watches on remorsefully. However, Brooks would probably stop laughing when she saw what was happening on the screen.

Mark: What’s this all about?

Instead of the world being forced to witness the shaving of Susie Moore, which isn’t nearly as sexy as it sounds, the camera opens on a scene that defies expectations. Paris Dannon was entrusted with the task of cutting Susie’s beautiful locks, but now she’s running with scissors in hand, after the individual who is taking off with her intended victim.

Paris: Where are you going!?! Bring her back here!

Porno Lad and now Robin watch with a similar emotion, anger, as the masked “Mr. X” storms out of the Brat Pack dressing room with a screaming Susie Moore in hand. All the trashing in the world does nothing to save Susie from the mysterious individual in the Xavier mask, who just continues pulling Susie along behind him. No matter how much Paris screams and demands answers she gets none and the masked figure keeps on walking.

Mark: What? Now Mr. X has taken off with Susie Moore, and Porno Lad is taking off after him.

The camera shifts back to the interior of the New Alhambra arena, catching Porno Lad as he rushes right back up the ramp and rips through the curtains. He is obviously intent on catching up with Mr. X, especially now that he’s seen the location Moore was just dragged through.

Evermore: Are we supposed to understand anything that’s going on right now?

Comeau: Uhhh, I don’t know. Just smile and pretend that you do.

Evermore: Way ahead of you.

Robin’s accusative gaze shoots towards Christian, wanting to know what’s going on here. All Savior can do is shrug with a vacant expression on his face, clearly not having an answer for her, clearly unaware of his associate’s motivations for taking Susie.

All Robin’s paranoia does is leave her susceptible to her ex boyfriend, who has used this time very wisely to recover. He quickly catches Brooks by the shoulder and spins her around before wrapping his arm around her neck and charging at the nearby turnbuckle. He seems set and determined to deliver the Disinfectant.

Before he can step up the turnbuckle Robin shoves him off into the ropes side first. He bounces off and comes back into a kick to the gut that has him doubled over. Brooks places him in a stunner position, shouting the words Spider Bite! Just as she’s on the verge of trapping Hurse in her web, the Master of Control drops back and pulls Robin over into a reverse roll up.

To the screams of the crowd he finds himself seated on the back of Brooks’ thighs, folding her up like an accordion with her shoulders pressed to the canvas.

Mark: Hurse may have stolen one over his ex! This may be just the retribution he was looking for! If he gets this pin he’ll become one half of the Tag Team Champions.

The ref’s hand slaps the canvas and the crowd waits in anticipation for the big celebration.

Brooks not only kicks out but launches Hurse forward right into the waiting Christian. Once within range Savior leaps into the air, trying to deliver the dreaded code breaker. To an uproar from the crowd however, Hurse plants his feet, wedges his hands to Savior’s knees and shoves him off before he could connect. Christian’s back hits the canvas forcefully and he pops up to his seat, looking to be in a daze.

Hurse turns around just as Brooks comes barreling towards him. That’s when the Master of Control sidesteps Robin and delivers a swift kick to the back of her knee, taking her legs out from under her and sending her boots flying into Savior’s face.

Mark: Hurse FORCING Robin to dropkick Christian. Amazingly he’s holding his own in light of his head injury and his lack of a tag team partner.

Axl: Wow, what an emotional heart warming story, think they’ll air it on the Lifetime network?

Mark: Must you be so cynical?

Evermore: Yes, actually.

Mark: Oh.

Savior is rocked by the kick, leaving him incapacitated as Brooks rises to her feet and staggers right into her doom. Hurse catches her around the back of the head, pulls it down and steps over it before lifting his hands into the air to form an “H.”

Mark: He’s calling for the Sanitizer!

Savior is back on his feet and barreling towards one half of Rinse and Repeat, trying to shut down his big, match ending maneuver. His bicep travels towards Hurse’s face but becomes loses all sense of direction when the Master of Control ducks. The arm travels over Hurse’s head and Christian goes spinning as a result.

He makes a full revolution, turning back towards Hurse just as he employs Christian’s partner as a javelin. The stooped forward Brooks is thrown head first dangerously south of the border, her skull connecting to Christian’s crotch.

Evermore: I bet Robin’s head is no stranger to that part of Christian’s anatomy.

Comeau: That was clearly a below the belt shot, but oh well, anything that happens to Savior I consider legal and well deserved.

The gawking Savior remains stooped forward, both hands cradling his crotch while Hurse takes advantage of this prime positioning. He steps over Savior’s head, hooks both arms and then leaps into the air, planting his rival face first into the canvas with the Lysol Injection. The pedigree sends Savior flopping over to his back, sprawled across the canvas in a motionless heap.

Comeau: Now it’s the Lysol Injection that connects. As stunning as it sounds, Hurse may be on the verge of moving onto the next leg of this gauntlet.

Evermore: That doesn’t sound crazy at all given the level of competition he’s facing.

The crowd is energized like an annoying bunny persistently beating a drum. They watch through wide eyes as Hurse slowly, sluggishly turns and drops an arm over the chest of the Rising Phoenix.

Mark: He’s gonna do it, he’s gonna pin Christian and win the Tag Team Titles for Rinse & Repeat.

The fans are rabid as the referee’s hand slaps the canvas.

Just as the official’s hand begins to come down for three Robin leaps to her feet then lunges into the air. She dazzles the fans with a standing shooting star press that connects directly across Hurse’s kidneys. A roar emanates from Hurse, his spine possibly broken from Brooks’ maneuver.

Mark: The standing Shooting Star! Robin breaking up the pinfall attempt and taking away any chance Hurse had at moving on in this gauntlet.

The crippled former champion rolls to his back, yet arches it from the canvas thanks to the blinding pain. All the while Brooks is crawling into the cover, hooking both legs in a desperate attempt to humiliate her ex for the second show in a row. She briefly shouts at the official that she’s the TRUE legal competitor, making Wright feel like an idiot for counting Hurse’s pinfall over Christian and then prompting him to slap the canvas.

The Philly crowd does not like this one little bit but they are forced to endure the image of Hurse being eliminated nevertheless. What makes it even more unbearable is the fact that Robin, for the second pay-per-view in a row was the one to pin Hurse. She sits up and absolutely glows.

Mark: Despite a very valiant effort, this two on one advantage was just too much for Hurse to handle.

Evermore: He gave it his all though didn’t he? The little trooper. That’s probably the closest he’s come to an actual win in like a year.

The numbers game proved effective enough to finish Hurse off tonight and keep the Submission, X-Class and Tag Team Titles in the possession of Brooks and Savior, at least for the time being. The victors look anything but, suffering wear and tear from this very physical encounter.

Comeau: Christian and Robin advance by way of unscrupulous tactics yet again. I don’t know how much longer these two can manipulate their way through this gauntlet.

Evermore: Well with Dan back I’m sure there will be another mid-match rule change to ensure they stay in it all the way to the end. So I would count on them being around for a while.

Mark: Oh joy.

Evermore: My sentiments exactly.

The moment that Christian reaches his feet, rubbing at his nose as a result of that pedigree, he’s spun around by his own partner. The Black Widow is once again demanding answers, gesturing to the titantron and pleading for an explanation.

Axl: I detect some trouble in paradise.

Comeau: As do I. Christian and Robin not on the same page in regards to the actions of Mr. X. And ummm, with Douglas in the building tonight, I think we’re all starting to get a better picture of just who Mr. X is.

Axl: Hey now, don’t start making assumptions. You never know who it could be. Could be Jason’s ax wielding mother, could be Jamie Lee Curtis’ demented brother, could be Neve Campbell’s sadistic boyfriend, could be anybody.

The Black Widow and the Rising Phoenix continue trading barbs with one another, split by the behavior of Christian’s cohort.

Robin: When we attacked Jackson and Pa…..I mean, when HE attacked my partner and Evans, I thought that meant he was working with both of us. That we were all on the same team.

Savior: I promise you, Robin, I have no idea what he’s doing.

The smirk on Christian’s face once again makes it difficult for the fans, or Robin to believe a word coming out of his mouth. Before anymore speculation can be made the entrance tunes for their next set of opponents hit the PA system. The music that streams through the building is the last set of tunes either combatant ever expected to hear. Their eyes shoot towards the stage and panic sets in when “Fake It” begins airing and Jackson Adams stumbles to the stage. Hot on his heels is none other than Pat Evans, both men bandaged with dried blood on their faces.

Comeau: UH-OH.

Evermore: Adams and Evans are coming out as a team, and yet they didn’t let Sex & Violence in this match? That’s ridiculous.

Mark: Pat Evans and Jackson Adams were left laying by Savior and Brooks earlier tonight, so me thinks these two are out for some retribution.

Evermore: Really? You put that together all by yourself?

Comeau: HEY. I’m the one who is supposed to condescend to their broadcast partner.

Robin’s lower lip is quivering while Christian shakes his head in disbelief, having convinced himself that he took Evans out completely. Robin’s heavy breathing belays her shock as Adams, clotted wound and all climbs to the apron before her. The moment their eyes meet the Black Widow realizes that he isn’t buying her story, a tale that wound get Brooks off scot-free from the ambush. He knows who was involved, he can see it in Brooks’ shifty eyes.

Mark: I think it’s pretty obvious by now that Christian and Robin played a BIG role in that attack earlier tonight.

Evermore: Oh I agree, and I also think that your pretty much just here to repeatedly state the obvious.

Comeau: That’s pretty much the only real function of my job.

With Adams occupying the apron, Evans moves up the steps. He and Christian exchange a stare that would freeze the pits of hell. Obviously Evans isn’t convinced by Savior’s pleas of innocence. Like Adams, he knows his partner, or at least his former partner, ALL to well.

Mark: They may be injured but I think their pain is about to become an afterthought. I assume allowing them into this match is Orlando’s handiwork, and it was the right call.

The bell chimes and Christian breaks the ice. He shoves Robin aside and charges at Adams on the apron, fist cocked and swinging towards the usually flapping lips of his opponent.

Jackson ducks the punch and charges towards Evans on the apron beside him. Pat leaps over his partner and then over the ropes, holding the top cable as he guides himself shoulder first into Christian’s back. The flying shoulder block sends Christian scrambling all out of sorts into the ropes before eventually spilling through them.

Comeau: These two showing absolutely no sign of injury, they are going straight after their former partners.

Evermore: This is exactly what they NEED to do. They’ve got to end this match quick and painless, otherwise those injuries are going to catch up with them the longer this match goes.

Brooks finally gets her wits about her, charging towards Evans who bends just in the nick of time to catch her with a back drop. She sails over the cables, grabs the top rope and lands surprisingly on her feet. Just as confidence starts to kick in Jackson is right there to take her off of her pedestal. He steps in, wraps up her neck and falls back, hitting a downward spiral that puts Robin face first into the apron.

At almost the same time Evans is charging across the ring and diving through the ropes, traveling shoulder first into an upright Christian’s ribs and spearing him to the outside.

Mark: NO WAY!

Axl: Yes way. Despite the numerous shrooms I’m sure you ingested during the seventies, and assuming that your not currently on strong narcotics, which is a big assumption, that was no hallucination.

Mark: Thanks for confirming what I already knew.

Evermore: Well, I think that’s my function as a color commentator actually. Well, besides being the wise cracking smart ass.

The fans are so energized you would think their nipples were clamped to battery cables. They are swept up into this heroic tale of Evans and Adams competing despite their injuries and actually taking the advantage. The underdog story continues and builds to a satisfying climax. Adams rises to his feet and briefly rubs at his neck, still reeling from that earlier pipe shot.

With Robin thoroughly incapacitated in the ring, Jackson wedges his hands to her hip and shoves her back into the ring. Robin rolls to the center as Adams climbs to the apron, takes the top rope and flips over into a leg drop. The crease of his knee connects directly to the back of Robin’s head.

Axl: These guys hitting their big moves early, going for that quick victory, exactly as I told them to do. Yes, dance puppets, DANCE!

Mark: No one likes hearing someone gloat.

Evermore: You probably wouldn’t be a fan of my promos then.

Inside of the squared circle Adams looks to be on the verge of gaining a monumental win. Outside of the ring however, Evans isn’t satisfied with a victory, more concerned with forcing his fists down Christian’s face. Savior is upright, spine wedged to the barricade while Pat delivers jab after jab to his forehead, determined to leave a wound as retribution.

Referee Wright looks as helpless as a premature newborn, trying to get some semblance of control but gaining NO order in this brawl. Passions dominate each competitor, it drives Evans’ fist into the eye of Savior, it motivates Jackson to wedge his hands to Robin’s throat and begin squeezing the life from her body.

Jackson finally breaks his hands away from the Submission Champion’s red throat and takes her by the hair. Brooks is forced to her seat on the canvas as Adams decides it’s time for an adjustment to her nose. He slaps his knee then rushes into the cables, bouncing off and looking to shatter every bone in his victim’s face.

Brooks somehow has the gumption to fall to her back, lift her feet and wedge them to JA’s sternum. Then with her incredible leg strength she shoves him off backwards into the ropes. Jackson bounces from the cables, Brooks sits up to catch him but the only thing she captures is a knee with her face.

Mark: Jackson DETERMINED to hit that running knee, and it connects square to Robin’s nose.

Evermore: Hey, most women have to pay a fortune to get that type of treatment, Robin should be fortunate she got a nose job for free.

Robin can barely breathe, her nostrils filling with blood as a result of that stiff blow. Speaking of stiff shots, that’s exactly what Evans is delivering to Christian, who spirals around the ringside towards the announce table. When his back falls against the front of the booth, Evans charges in and delivers a lariat that sends both men crashing over the table.

Mark: WATCH YOURSELF!

Axl: They better not have spilt my damn Red Bull.

Evans and Savior find themselves tangled up in chairs, wires and fists as they lay on the concrete behind the announce table. All Axl and Mark can do is stand back and watch the violence ensue.

Comeau: They are right here in front of us ladies and gentlemen, Evans out to end Christian’s career. Remember, he said HE was the one who was going to end it.

Axl: I make it a point to forget everything I hear Evans say.

Pat stands up and with the aid of the barricade stabilizes himself long enough to stomp down at the X-Class Champion’s chest. He delivers stop after stomp after stomp on the writhing frame of his rival. Christian turns and crawls away from the endless barrage of boots, fleeing total annihilation.

Mark clears out of the way and in the process accidentally falls back into his chair, landing on it just in time to prove useful. Christian quickly grabs his armrest and shoves the chair mounted on rolls straight into Evans. The blow knocks Pat over top of Dan and the chair, his body cracking against the exposed cement HARD.

Evermore: You know a match is out of control when commentators are used as weapons.

Evans’ adrenaline allows him to shrug off the fall and rise to his feet, failing to realize that Christian’s intentions were not to hurt him, but distract him. It gives Christian just the time he needs to grab the ring-bell and crack Pat right under the jaw with it.

Axl: The bell RIGHT to Pat’s jaw. Hopefully he’ll need to have wires inserted to keep it his mouth shut for a while.

The referee did not see the intentional blow from the bell, his attention solely on the action in the ring. Adams has got Brooks wedged spine first to the turnbuckle and he is now standing over him, raining down fist after fist against her forehead.

The crowd is counting along, actually vehemently behind Adams, who finds this odd, but not odd enough to distract from his fists bludgeoning the Black Widow.

He goes for one more punch, the knock out shot, when Robin squirms out from under him. As a result his fist hits the top turnbuckle pad, almost fracturing his wrist as a result. He lets go of the ropes in order to nurse his sore knuckles, which is exactly what Robin needed him to do.

She rushes up behind him, wedges her shoulder to his spine and pulls him off of the turnbuckle into a back drop suplex. Jackson BRUTALLY lands on the back of his head and neck, bouncing from the canvas to his seat and looking like a zombie recently risen from the grave.

Comeau: I choose an appropriate time to get myself situated. That was SICK landing for Adams. If anything is going to aggravate his injury, it’s that landing.

Axl: Interesting. You act as if your not even bothered that you were just used as a weapon.

Mark: Well, the way I see it, if I’m injured on the job I can always draw workman’s comp.

Evermore: Unfortunately I don’t have that luxury. I don’t even get free dental care from my IWC contract. Free dental care! Why did I give that up in favor of a guaranteed World Title shot every year, WHY?

Comeau: I can see the upside, but I can’t see the upside of Evans taking many more blows to his head. No pun intended, but his bell was definitely rung by that shot.

Axl: No pun intended indeed, mostly because puns are supposed to be considered humorous.

The incoherent Evans lays stretched across the announce table, Axl keeping his Red Bull in hand and steering it clear from all the chaos. Christian now climbs on top of Evans and begins delivering punch after punch to his skull, getting his own perceived brand of retribution.

Inside of the ring Brooks would be more than satisfied to just end this bout instead of prolonging the violence. She crawls on top of Adams, and hooks his leg, looking for yet another elimination.

Jackson’s shoulder leaps from the canvas and he rolls to his side. Robin is left flabbergasted, almost throwing a temper tantrum in fact. The Submission Champion decides to put on a quick display of what allowed her to capture her very title. With both legs in hand she swings around Jackson’s knee, falls to her back and applies the figure four leg lock.

A loud squeal can be heard from the crowd, who cups their mouths and watches through the cracks of their fingers. To get as emotionally invested in Jackson’s plight only to watch him tap out would be a fate far too cruel. Many are slapping the barriers, trying to get Jackson’s blood pumping so he can escape this hold.

Mark: Figure four applied, and on the verge of earning Robin a tap out victory.

Evermore: Let’s just hope he doesn’t abruptly pass out, like in a certain submission match at a certain WrestleMania rip off.

Comeau: I don’t foresee Adams surviving in this hold for very long given the condition of his body.

Jackson props himself up on his elbow and screams towards the rafters, calling out to a higher power perhaps to free himself from this hold. The very submission that has earned Robin so many successful title defenses looks to get her one more big win tonight.

It isn’t until she feels her body being dragged across the ring that Robin realizes her fantasies are no more than pipe dreams. She watches with panic stricken eyes as Adams drags their bodies in the direction of the ropes.

Mark: I can barely see what’s happening in the ring….

Evermore: Maybe if you ask nicely these two will get off our table.

Comeau: But it looks like Jackson is actually trying to get out of this figure four, which I daresay would be an absolute MIRACLE!

Evans would come to Jackson’s aid perhaps if he weren’t being pummeled with right hands by Christian on top of the announce table. Adams looks like he DOES need a lot of help as his fingers extend for the ropes but fall just short. Brooks begins to laugh, realizing that Jackson is now trapped with no possibility of escape. She twists and wrenches his legs until the sinew almost snaps.

Adams’ features contort, looking more like rare meat than a human face. Blood creeps from the wound in his forehead, flowing out under the bandage, washing his face in crimson. Almost in spite of it all, injured ribs, battered skull, bleeding wound, Jackson reaches for the ropes and his hand clasps hold of one.

Mark: Jackson’s got the ropes, and he keeps his makeshift team alive.

Robin almost goes deaf due to a combination of her shrieks and the crowd’s response. She yells at the official, demanding he kick Jackson’s hand away from the ropes and announce her the victor. Instead he starts a five count which outrages Robin even further.

Outside of the ring Christian continues to disobey the official as well, grabbing the thin protective mats and ripping them away from the floor to expose the unforgiving concrete beneath.

Mark: What is Savior doing now? Is he obsessed with ending Evans?

Axl: Well it’s an obsession that you can easily get addicted to, believe me.

Pat’s lifeless body is dragged away from the announce table and stood over the concrete. He wavers back and forth, supported only by Christian’s palm to his throat. He props Pat up so that he can slap him in the cheek and treat him like a real nobody.

Christian: You couldn’t play along. You just couldn’t do as told. You see where being a rebel gets you Evans? You see where growing a mind of your own leads?

To make sure his words will always be remembered he gives Evans incentive in the form of a diamond cutter on concrete. He wraps his arm around Pat’s neck and stares off into space, really thinking about this moment, really cherishing what he’s about to do to the former Submission Champion. After a year of teaming with Evans, of taking down the establishment together, of supporting the same cause, it all comes down to this one final moment.

Savior prepares to truly end the legacy of the technician only to find his plan thwarted when Pat performs a timely counter. He reaches out and hooks his hands around Christian’s jaw, using the grasp to twist his head, place in a front chancery then spin out into a swinging neckbreaker. The back of Christian’s head hits the concrete with enough force to send him shooting to a seated position.

Mark: AAAHHHH neckbreaker on the concrete!

Axl: You know, I enjoy Susie’s turrets syndrome much more than yours.

The neckbreaker seems to have left Christian in the very condition that he left Pat in earlier tonight, but Evans is still not satisfied. He won’t be until he pins Savior’s shoulders to the canvas. That’s why he grabs Christian’s wrist and begins dragging his prone body towards the ring.

Mark: Evans, even in his current predicament, wants the pin, no, no, I daresay he NEEDS this pin.

Evermore: I say so, it would be his first win since he beat me in that cage over a year ago.

Christian becomes just another body in the ring with an almost mindless Evans following behind. Like a shark he’s drawn by instinct towards the ring, where victory shall finally be achieved and Pat will put the final straw on the camel’s back. He begins slipping into the ring just as Brooks rolls away from the injured Adams and tries to catch her other banged up opponent.

She rushes towards Evans and leaps forward to deliver a basement dropkick on the face of the still stooped Evans. Just as he was slipping through the ropes he finds his brain rattled by the stiff dropkick. Her feet connect with enough force to send Pat twisting and crashing into the ring. He lays almost comatose on the canvas while the dominate Submission Champion ascends to her feet.

She gets up, gloating in the process of course, just as Jackson comes bumbling towards her. He grabs her arms from behind and tries to twist Brooks around into an unprettier. Before he can even get her turned Robin drops, falling to her back then lifting up her legs. She wraps them around Jackson’s waist, attempting to pull him down into a forward roll up.

Jackson drops to his knees however, planting them on top of Brooks’ shoulders and pulling down on her legs which are now trapped in his armpits.

The crowd fooled themselves into believing that was it only for Brooks to not only kick out but counter. She dashes their hopes and dreams, sitting up and causing Jackson to roll forward. Now he ends up on the back of his shoulders, folded up with the back of his ankles gripped by Robin’s palms.

Just as the fans were about to leave they’re given motivation to stay in their seats by Jackson’s surprising kick out.

Mark: Adams getting a shoulder up now. These two teams going back and forth, Robin and Savior DESPERATE to keep their titles, and Adams and Evans desperate for revenge.

Evermore: Thrilling, thrilling action.

Mark: You actually sound as if your enjoying this.

Axl: That’s the Red Bull talking.

A tired Robin and an exhausted Adams begin to ascend to their feet while Evans crawls into a turnbuckle for sanctuary and Savior employs the pants of the referee to force himself up. The official tries to fight free while Christian’s claws and grabs at him.

As soon as Adams reaches his feet he’s kicked to the gut and doubled over. His head is immediately taken hold of as Brooks situates herself for the Spider Bite. She finds herself on the verge of connecting before she’s pushed off and shoved right into the very corner Evans is using to support himself. He sees her coming from the corner of his eye and cracks her to the mouth with his elbow.

Robin goes stumbling backwards into Adams who catches her by the creases of the elbows and swings her around. He’s about to taste sweet, sweet retribution, putting Robin in perfect position to ruin what she cherishes the most, her beautiful face. However, it’s Jackson’s features that become deformed when Savior leaps into the air in front of him, catches the back of his head and pulls him down into the code breaker.

Mark: YOUCH!

Axl: Well that did it, and it did it for me too. My ears can’t take anymore of your irrational screaming.

Adams flops to his back and Christian climbs into the cover, victory all but a guarantee in his view. Since there were no tags, meaning there’s no legal competitors, the referee just goes with the flow. He drops to the canvas and makes the count with the fans bitching and moaning through the whole ordeal.

Evans dives across the ring and saves Adams at the last split second. His forearm drills Savior to the back of the head, refusing to give Christian any glory. Savior looks positively rabid, his face going blood red as he steps towards Evans and grabs hold of his hair, yanking on it to force him to his feet. In the meanwhile Robin is still trying to get her bearings, but finally descends upon the individual who has been the nagging thorn in her side for far too long.

She steps in and with a handful of Jackson’s hair, leads him to his feet and to his demise.

Comeau: Robin and Savior both looking to end this match while they have this small window of opportunity.

Axl: Now would be the opportune time for Robin to bust her trusty plastic Wal-Mart bag, or some other convoluted swerve.

Mark: Either option sounds likely.

Jackson is dead weight, and Evans has no more bats in the belfry. They are barely able to stand as Robin situates Adams then steps back for the super kick. At the same time Christian is punching away on Pat’s face, ensuring that he’s got absolutely NOTHING left in the tank.

Once he’s positive that Evans is no more than a half cracked shell he takes off into the ropes, looking to end this with the Blaze of Glory. Unfortunately his vision must be impaired, because the match doesn’t end the way he foresaw it. Pat side steps Christian at the last second and sends him traveling straight into his own partner. Robin had her leg lifted for the superkick but just before it could connect on her opponent’s jaw, she finds HERSELF devastated by this unexpected tackle.

Mark: Savior just SPEARED Robin.

Evermore: I could make so many sexual innuendos right now based on that comment. At least a dozen just sprang into my mind.

Mark: Keep that thought on hold, because it looks like Savior’s screw up is going to cost his team big time.

Christian looks down through the long bangs of his hair, his eyes crazed at the sight of Robin laying on the canvas gripping at her stomach in severe pain. The ramifications of his actions do not have a chance to sink in before he’s spun around and kicked to the gut.

Evans drags Christian’s head through his legs, heaves him up over his shoulders and delivers from the Outside In. At the same time Adams drops to his knees and sits Robin up. He wraps her arms around her neck and applies cobra clutch. Before either Brooks or Savior realize what’s happening, the official’s hand is slapping the canvas and Robin is tapping out.

Mark: A double FALL!

Evermore: How wonderfully convoluted.

The fans are in a frenzy at the sight of Evans pinning Christian and Adams forcing the submission on the Black Widow. Although nobody gave them a chance in this gauntlet, or even knew they were going to be a team, the two have just pulled off a major upset by eliminating two potential World Title contenders.

Comeau: I guess this means that Adams is the NEW Submission Champion, and that Pat is the NEW X-Class Champion, and together they’re the NEW Tag Team Champions!

Axl: If they make it out of this match with those tag titles they had best not get very comfortable with them. I wouldn’t mind beating Evans one last time.

The crowd puts their hands together and thoroughly embraces this shocking turn of events. Although their bodies are worn and exhausted from this physical encounter and the physical assault backstage, Evans and Adams still have the energy to celebrate. Jackson gets up and almost falls right back over, propping himself up against Evans.

Pat ensures that Jackson remains upright while slapping his shoulder, congratulating him on taking the titles from Savior. Evans also receives much gratification from reuniting with the Submission Title. It hasn’t sunk in on either man yet that they are now expected to hold the Tag Team Titles *gasp* together.

They’re given little time to connect these dots before the next opponents make their presence known. “The Sacrament” pipes through the speakers and the fans immediately go ghost white.

Comeau: Hoooolllly smokes. Talk about the worse possible team for Adams and Evans to have to face off with next.

Evermore: Emphasis on the word “worse.” It’s a word commonly used to describe Psycho and Riggs.

Pat and Jackson barely have time to celebrate and watch their former partners roll out of the ring with the aid of security guards before they have to wrap their forced to concentrate on the next opponents. They have trouble accepting that in their present condition that they’re about to battle the two men ripping through the curtains. The Painted Warrior leads the way with Cartel Champion Psycho following behind. The two are met with a resounding wave of hostility, nobody very pleased with their method of eliminating the Motherfuckers of America earlier tonight. Neither man could care less what the fans think of them or their actions as they proceed down the ramp towards their wounded, weary opponents.

Comeau: I don’t know how Jackson Adams and Pat Evans will fair against two fresh and monstrous opponents.

Axl: Well I would imagine that Riggs and Psycho are still a little shaken up by their brawl with the Motherfuckers of America. Plus Psycho’s BOT to be reeling from the shots I’ve given him the past few weeks.

Mark: Now, now Axl, try to be unbiased.

Axl: Sorry, but as color commentator I’m required to pick sides.

Comeau: Oh yeah.

Psycho licks his lips as he realizes just how banged up both opponents are. Riggs shows no emotion, his eyes focused on Adams, not forgetting their run ins over the past couple of months, and dwelling on all the things he’ll do now that Jackson is at his mercy.

Mark: I think some of the fire that drove these two guys has now got to be extinguished considering that they got their revenge. Taking all the gold away from Christian and Robin, including the very Submission Title that Brooks held for over six months.

Evermore: Normally I would be excited that the title was finally taken off of her, but Evans having the belt doesn’t exactly set my world on fire either.

Comeau: He might not hold the belt for long given his condition and the odds of defeating these two remorseless individuals.

The Sadistic One and the Painted Warrior are prepared to play with their prey like a cat swatting around a mouse. They amuse themselves with the endless possibilities of a gory end to their opponents. Their day dreaming proves fatal however, as Jackson and Evans glance at one another then bolt across the ring. They connect with a double baseball slide dropkick, their feet hitting the shins of their opponents.

Riggs and Psycho tumble from the apron and their faces slap against it on the way down.

Mark: A gutsy move right from the start of this match.

Axl: Yeah there’s generally a rule of thumb about not poking at wild animals.

Adams and Evans are back to their feet in the ring and as they step in reverse they show no fear of their opponents by courageously inviting them to the ring. Psycho and Riggs are still upright and now fuming at ringside, holding their possibly busted lips. It doesn’t take either man long to take their opponents up on their offers.

Riggs is in the ring first and Jackson is departing at the official’s behest, leaving Evans all alone to deal with the demented enigma. They leap towards one another almost at the word “go,” tying up for only a moment until Riggs snapmares his weaker opponent down to his seat.

Evans sits up long enough for Riggs to get a running start and delivering a kick directly to the kidneys. Pat arches his spine but does not call out in pain. Even after everything he’s been through tonight he refuses to give Riggs the satisfaction of hearing him groan.

Riggs charges up behind him yet again and goes for another field goal style kick. Evans turns around and denies him the game winner by catching the inbound foot, standing up and rolling Riggs to his stomach while applying the ankle lock. The crowd unleashes a near window shattering applause as Riggs finds his ankle on the verge of being snapped.

Comeau: Looks like I was wrong….

Axl: No shock there.

Comeau:….apparently Evans still does have some fight left in him.

Evermore: And when he’s got that ankle lock applied, even for a FRACTION of a second, it’s about as painful as child birth, or watching an Akeem promo. Poor One Man Gang.

The crowd is given plenty of incentive to crowd around the barricades, watching and hoping to see a submission. Riggs isn’t about to pander to the desires of the audience. He reaches back with his feet foot and hooks it around one of Evans’ forearm. Now he pulls down on his foot and causes Pat to break the ankle lock and tumble to his knees. The Painted Warrior sits up beside him and applies a side headlock, twisting and ripping at his opposition’s neck.

Evans doesn’t stay down for long surprisingly, rising to his feet with his head still trapped in the submission. Although heavily fatigued Evans still charges backwards, dragging Riggs along straight into the cables. Adams reaches over the ropes and makes the blind tag as Evans uses the cables to launch Riggs off of the side headlock.

The Painted Warrior barrels across the ring, bounces off of the far ropes and comes back in at Evans who drops to his chest and stomach. Riggs is forced to jump over him just as Adams pulls himself over the ropes into a forward flipping back elbow to the sternum.

Comeau: I’m surprised Adams is still able to hit maneuvers like that.

Evermore: I’m amazed that Jackson is able to both walk and talk simultaneously.

Adams slowly approaches his feet while Riggs scrambles to reach an upright base. Both men are up as Jackson delivers a stiff haymaker to his opposition’s jaw. The blow has Riggs almost on his back once again yet he keeps ascending. Finally he’s on his feet when Adams nails a second stiff jab that has his opponent twirling into a turnbuckle.

Riggs leans against the corner for support while his equally as painted opponent moves in. Although Jackson’s paint is a result of the dried crimson caked across face. With his opposition placed in the corner, Adams approaches Evans, who had yet to vacate the ring and takes him by the wrist.

He whips Pat towards Riggs only to have Evans reverse it, giving Jackson all the momentum he needs to come barreling towards the gothic figure. Jackson leaps into the air just as Riggs clears out of his landing zone, causing Adams’ face to thud against the top turnbuckle pad.

All the while Riggs is charging out of the corner and leaping into a spinning heel kick that connects on Evans. The new Submission Champion’s legs are taken out from under him, causing him to collapse to the canvas. Neither Riggs nor Jackson are down for long. Riggs rolls to his feet just as Adams comes stumbling out of the turnbuckle, desperate to get back on the advantage.

Riggs charges at the ropes in front of him, springs to the middle one then twists off into a big twisting kick right to Jackson’s face, putting him down right beside Evans.

Mark: Riggs with such AGILITY!

Evermore: Something I’ll have to keep track of should he try to get between Psycho and I, which in retrospect would make a very disgusting sandwich.

Jackson finds himself in much the same condition as his makeshift partner Evans, the two sprawled out side by side with the heavy hitter Psycho now being brought into the bout. Riggs tags in his partner who is quick to dish out some punishment.

He slips into the ring, ricochets from the cables and comes charging in the direction of his laid out opponents. He leaps into the air, showing surprising agility for a man his size and comes crashing down with a back first senton that connects with nothing but canvas.

Axl: Evans and Adams getting out of the way just in time, which is actually kind of a letdown.

Mark: What did I say about biasness?

Axl: Oh come on, it’s impossible. I literally hate every single competitor in the ring right now. This is like being forced to sit through an episode of WCW Nitro circa 2000 without complaining.

The arched back and gritting teeth of Psycho demonstrate just how much pain he is in. He sits up on the canvas while Jackson steps up behind him and clamps an arm around Psycho’s neck.

It’s unclear what Jackson is thinking as he applies a dragon sleeper, clearly not having the strength to properly get the submission established. Nevertheless he puts all his energy into the hold, clamping around the neck as tightly as his injured body will allow.

Axl: Yeah, somehow I don’t think we’re going to see a tap out.

Comeau: Jackson pugnaciously applying that dragon sleeper, but like you said, Axl, I don’t think he has the strength to force Psycho into submission.

An aggravated Psycho begins rising to his feet, slowly bridging up to a standing base while Adams twists and wrenches at the neck with all he’s worth. He is trying his best to earn the submission, but on this night his best just isn’t good enough. Psycho stands on his own two feet then spins around, wedging both hands to Jackson’s ribs and shoving him backwards into the cables.

Adams springs off of the ropes and comes back at Psycho who attempts a big boot. Shockingly Jackson has the wherewithal to drop into a baseball slide, slipping under Psycho’s leg and standing up behind him. Adams gets another running start, backing into the cables, ricocheting off and gaining some momentum for a lariat.

Psycho quickly twists around, wedges his hands to Jackson’s ribs and throws him up high into the air. As Adams comes down from the throw Psycho twists into a jaw shattering European Uppercut.

Mark: AAAAH that press into the Euro Uppercut yet again!

Evermore: I can attest to just how much that hurts. I think I ate through a straw for like a week after he hit me with that.

After the move almost beheads Adams he finds his body rolling in the direction of his corner. There Evans is waiting to make the tag. He reaches over the cables and slaps Jackson’s shoulder. Although he was hoping to catch Psycho unaware, the Sadistic One turned just in time to see the tag made, prompting him to take Pat out in a hurry.

He rushes at the corner and swings for Pat’s face only to have his fist blocked. Evans now responds with a shot of his own, a blow so stiff that it sends Psycho twisting towards the center of the ring. All the while Pat is making his way up the turnbuckle.

Mark: Whoa, whoa, we don’t see this very often from Evans, he’s going up top.

Evermore: I’m pretty sure I’ve NEVER seen Evans go high risk.

Pat stands on the uppermost point of the turnbuckle and waits patiently. As soon as Psycho turns around his eyes widen at the sight of Pat flying through the air and delivering a missile dropkick. The blow knocks Psycho’s feet out from under him and sends the big man collapsing to the canvas. While Psycho goes down the fans go up, hopping to their feet and erupting with cheers.

Comeau: Missile dropkick from Evans. Not only is he hitting moves while in his traumatized condition, but he’s actually using NEW moves.

Axl: Maybe Pat should suffer from extreme blood loss more often, seems to inspire him.

Evans crawls sluggishly into the cover, having exerted a great deal of energy to deliver that dropkick, perhaps all the energy he had remaining.

Psycho’s broad shoulder jumps from the canvas as he rolls away from Evans.

Evermore: It was pretty obvious that wasn’t going to be enough to keep the Cartel Champion down.

Psycho begins to rise while Evans beams him across the face with a right hand. The shot has Psycho wavering before Evans delivers a straight stomp to his skull. The shot almost has him taken over before Pat proceeds to use the ropes to build some momentum.

He ricochets from the cables and comes back in at Psycho who suddenly stands and catches the inbound Evans against his palms. He heaves him up into the air, perhaps looking for yet another throw into a Euro Uppercut. The move proves ineffective on this encounter as Evans turns, slips off of the palms and slides down Psycho’s back. He catches him around the waist on the way down and pulls the big man over into a sunset flip.

Psycho rolls backwards, freeing himself from the pinning predicament then going for a running boot to the still seated Evans’ face. To the surprise of everyone, Psycho especially, his foot is caught hold of and Evans twists on it until the Cartel Champion collapses to a knee. Pat stands up behind him, wrenching and tearing at the leg with the ankle lock yet again applied.

Evermore: Another ankle lock. Does he ever score a submission with this hold? Like ever?

Mark: He got Brooks to tap to the Time to Go to Sleep earlier, maybe he’ll have the same luck with Psycho and that ankle lock.

Evermore: I highly doubt it.

Psycho scrambles across the canvas and reaches out, his hand clasping hold of the bottom rope. The referee jumps down Evans’ throat, an equal opportunity officiator, demanding he break the hold. Evans doesn’t let go until he gets in a few more twists and tugs on the ankle, trying to maximize the amount of damage inflicted. At the count of five he finally releases the ankle and stumbles to the center of the ring.

Psycho uses this valuable time wisely, getting to a knee with his side pressed to the ropes. Evans takes advantage of his positioning, rushing in and delivering a boot to the temple of his opposition, almost removing his face from his head. Psycho falls against the ropes throat first while Evans barrels into the opposite ropes, bounces off and comes back in. He leaps into the air while twisting and throws himself rump first into the back of the Sadistic One’s head.

Comeau: I was not expecting to see this, but Evans is actually dominating Psycho right now. Where he is getting this strength from after all the brutality he’s suffered is just beyond my grasp of comprehension.

Evermore: There are plenty of things beyond your grasp of comprehension. Such as witty, insightful commentary.

A gagging Cartel Champion crawls away from Evans who has approached his corner and made a tag to the recovered Adams. Jackson slips through the ropes and then hunkers down behind Psycho, both hands wedged to his knees. Although he’s fired up and anxious for some retribution, his blood loss and fatigue are still effecting him.

He tries to shake off his pain and punishment, waiting anxiously for the Sadistic One to ascend to his feet. The moment that Psycho gets up Adams moves in and chops him like his hand were an ax and the Sadistic One’s chest were a tree.

The blow has Psycho staggered but not taken down, prompting Adams to leap into the air and dropkick him directly to the nose. Even though he’s reeling, the Sadistic One is STILL on his own two feet. Adams realizes how futile his efforts are and instead delivers a dropkick straight to the knee.

Psycho is brought down to a kneeling base while Adams steps in and over his rival’s head, hooking both arms as he sets up for the Double Take.

Comeau: If Adams can get Psycho up for this move then he and Evans may just advance AGAIN and continue their Cinderella story.

Evermore: Fortunately this isn’t the Disney channel, your not going to see a happy ending.

Adams employs all remaining strength to heave his opponent into the air but his battered ribcage makes this next to near impossible. He groans and doubles over, reaching for his mid-section then delivering clubbing blows over the Cartel Champion’s upper back. He goes right back to the Double Take, hooking both arms once again and attempting to lift.

This time Psycho puts the kibosh on his plan by standing straight up with Jackson on top of his shoulder, still having both arms hooked. The Sadistic One then turns and shrugs Jackson off in order to cause him to fall from his elevated position ribs first into the top rope.

Adams hangs over the cable, crying out in agony.

Mark: What a bad landing for Adams. If he wasn’t hurting before, he sure is now.

Evermore: Again, it’s always a pleasure hearing you state the obvious.

Comeau: And it’s always a pleasure listening to your asinine retorts.

Like a wet towel Jackson continues to hang over a rack, but he doesn’t remain in this suspended state for long. Psycho steps in and takes him around the neck while also reaching out and hooking the crease of his knee. Adams is hoisted into the air and held upside down on Psycho’s shoulder before the Cartel Champion makes several rotations in the center of the ring.

Finally he drops back planting Adams into the canvas with the Muscle Buster.

Axl: We knew it was just a matter of time. Adams is no John Cena, he doesn’t miraculously overcome beat-downs, bludgeonings, and stabbings in order to rise from the dead like Jesus Christ, no sell, and score the victory.

Mark: Isn’t it kind of blasphemous to accuse Christ of no selling?

Axl: Well it’s the truth isn’t it?

Adams very fatigued and battered body remains strewn across the canvas while Psycho approaches his partner. Riggs’ hand is slapped and he’s brought back into the encounter to pick up exactly where the Sadistic One left off. The Painted Warrior charges in and immediately sits Adams up on the canvas. He then hooks Adams’ arms and clamps his hands together, applying a version of the double chickenwing.

Comeau: Submission by Riggs, really putting a lot of torque on those arms with this modified Hands Across America.

Riggs’ face contorts, just one indicator of the pressure he’s applying on this hold. Even after the attack backstage, the battle waged against Savior and Brooks, and the multiple blows he’s suffered throughout the duration of this match, Jackson refuses to give up. He imagines holding the World Heavyweight Title in his hands, the fantasy compelling him to begin rising to his feet.

Evermore: Well, maybe Jackson really is the messiah. Which would mean we we’d all get a lot of free wine.

Mark: Adams trying to power his way out of this hold, but I don’t know how effective that will be. We saw him escape the figure four earlier, but does he have it left in him to escape yet another submission?

The crowd is clapping, their feet are stomping, their screams are deafening and Adams is inspired by it all. He reaches his feet, plants them to the canvas and then charges backwards, Riggs still clasping onto his arms with the double chickenwing.

That is until Riggs’ body is driven spine first into the turnbuckle, causing him to break the hold. Jackson is freed from the hands of his torturer, doubling over and looking at the hand of his salvation. Evans is looking for the tag, eager to get in there and press his luck against these monsters.

Jackson just begins to stumble towards him when Riggs rushes out of the corner and applies an inverted bear hug.

He wraps his arms around Jackson’s waist and squeezes, trying to keep him from moving even an inch.

Mark: Another hold from Riggs and he can easily transition this into a number of moves.

Although Riggs is squeezing tightly Adams isn’t about to be thwarted. He delivers an elbow to the clasped hands of his opposition, then reaches down and wedges his arm between his ribs and Riggs’ fingers. He begins to push outward on his arm, beginning to break Riggs’ grasp.

Mark: Jackson fighting, he’s fighting to get out of this hold yet again.

Evermore: How valiant. It almost makes me forget the fact that I hate Jackson Adams as much as a match between Trish Stratus and Jackie Gayda.

Much to the relief of both Adams and the fans, but Jackson especially, the hold is broken. Riggs’ hands are forced apart, but before Jackson can so much as crack a smile his leg is wrapped up and he’s pulled over into the Russian Leg Sweep.

The back of Adams’ already throbbing skull connects with the canvas, causing him to ricochet back up to his seat. He looks all out of sorts as Riggs crawls up behind him and yet again traps both arms in the double chicken-wing position.

Mark: Right back to the hold, and at this point I’m starting to think that for Adams this match is like trying to skate uphill.

Adams’ determination begins to waiver and fade like a light-bulb not getting enough juice. His head slowly begins to descend, his chin falling towards his chest. The pain is just too intolerable, his brain shutting down so as not to deal with the agony.

It isn’t until Evans shouts at Jackson that he snaps out of it. His head shoots upward and his eyes open wide, looking as if he were just hit to the chest with some electrified paddles.

Although the crowd finds it odd they just can’t help rooting Adams on as he tries once again to ascend to his feet. His whole body is shaking, sweat streaming down over his mangled muscles and blood red skin. Riggs tightens the hold but it proves ineffective in keeping Jackson down.

Evans is stomping his foot and rallying the fans behind Jackson, who now has both feet planted firmly beneath him.

Mark: He’s up, but how is he going to escape the hold this time?

Axl: If Evans were smart he’d get in there and break it up already. But alas, he isn’t.

Jackson tries to back Riggs into the corner but the Painted Warrior was waiting for that. He wedges his feet, rooting them to the canvas like he were a tree. Adams’ lips begin trembling and his eyes flutter as he tries his best to find some way, anyway to escape the pressure.

Suddenly he drops to his knees and ducks his head into forward roll, flipping Riggs over top of him. Riggs hits the canvas across his back with Jackson landing on top of him, but still having his arms trapped in the hold. The referee drops and makes the fatal count.

Riggs bridges his back from the canvas and now holds Adams in almost a bridging tiger suplex position.

Jackson kicks out, dropping to his side with Riggs rolling over, remaining behind him and remaining vigilant with his double chicken-wing.

Comeau: Adams STILL can’t get out of this hold, Riggs REFUSES to release him.

The anxiety builds in the crowd, doubled by the smirk they see on Psycho’s face. He realizes, just like everyone else, that it’s now a matter of time. Jackson isn’t going to let time be his enemy, continuing to struggle. The new X-Class Champion reaches his feet with Riggs applying even more pressure on the hold.

This doesn’t stop Adams from taking several huge steps towards his corner. Evans is there and waiting, his hand outstretched, anxious to tag the first part of Jackson’s anatomy that gets within his reach.

Evermore: He’s baby stepping his way to the tag.

Mark: Just a few more inches Adams, just a few more inches.

Jackson unleashes an ear drum popping roar as he tries to keep moving but finds himself stalled mere inches away from Evans’ fingers. Riggs will not let him get any further, stopping him just short of the goal-line.

Evermore: Well that’s it, game over.

Jackson makes Axl eat his words by kicking his foot into the air and driving it into Pat’s palm. The crowd explodes as they realize a legal tag has been made and that Evans is back in there raring to go. Riggs breaks the hold and throws Jackson aside just as Evans rushes into the ring and takes him down with a outer leg sweep.

Comeau: Evans in and he’s already got Riggs down with the STO. He’s still got that fire burning.

Psycho begins to slip into the ring when Evans catches him to the side of the head with a big running knee strike. The blow causes the Cartel Champion to twirl and tumble into the ring. He rolls a mere few inches away from a struggling Riggs. The Painted Warrior is trying to stand up, getting his feet beneath him yet remaining stooped over.

Psycho gets a crawling base beside him, knees and elbows supporting his frame. Pat once again takes advantage of the perfect positioning, charging in, stepping off of Psycho’s back and then leaping into a shinning boot to Riggs’ temple.

Comeau: WOW! Even more innovation from Evans.

Evermore: It’s about time he updated his repertoire. I was getting sick and tired of the classic, ankle lock, Spinal Tap, ankle lock, Spinal Tap, grimace at the audience, ankle lock prototypical Evans matches.

Mark: It may be Evan’s innovation that has just secured his team yet another win.

Evans quickly scrambles into a cover on Riggs, almost positive that a victory is in his grasp.

If it weren’t for Psycho, Evans and Adams would surely have advanced. Unfortunately Psycho has taken hold of Pat’s ankle and is now dragging him off of the cover.

Comeau: So close.

Evermore: Close doesn’t cut it in this sport.

Evans flops to his back as Psycho lifts his foot and tries to stomp him to the face. The ever allusive Evans rolls out of the way, causing Psycho to stomp no more than canvas. Psycho continues stomping at his opponent like he were a bug in need of a squashing.

Pat keeps rolling out of the way though, bringing him to the ropes which he rolls under. He now stands up on the apron as Psycho reaches over and tries to get hold of him. He grabs Pat’s hair and yanks him up to his feet when Evans leaps into the air, catches the back of his opponent’s head and drags him down throat first into the cable.

Psycho’s head suffers extreme whiplash and he now staggers back into the waiting arms of a recovered Adams. Jackson hooks them both, spins the Cartel Champion around and drops him face first into the canvas with the unprettier.

Comeau: I think Psycho may have just been removed from this bout entirely.

Evermore: Do any of your assumptions EVER come true?

Comeau: On occasion.

Pat stands up with his arm draped over the top rope, supporting his very tired frame. This time it’s Riggs who uses his opponent’s position to his liking. He steps in, grabs the wrist of Evans then falls to his back, causing Pat’s arm and shoulder to snap off of the top rope.

Evans turns his side to the ring and doubles over, grabbing at his shoulder in extreme pain. The move also seems to have aggravated that clavicle injury he suffered from several weeks back. Riggs realizes this, prompting him to reach through the ropes, grab the back of Pat’s pants and his head, charge him across the ring and throw him shoulder first into the exposed turnbuckle post.

Pat’s shoulder smacks off of the steel and his body now tumbles to the outside mats.

Mark: Evans may have potentially been re-injured by that last maneuver.

Evermore: That’s always within the realm of possibilities.

Pain is clear on Evans’ twisted face, rolling from side to side and cradling his arm across his sternum. Riggs leans against the very turnbuckle he threw him into, looking over the cables and admiring his handiwork. That’s when Jackson flies in out of nowhere and delivers a big splash to Riggs’ upper back.

His body is driven into the turnbuckle as a result, knocking all the air out of his lungs. Jackson lands on his feet behind him and quickly hooks both arms. He twists around and Riggs finds himself on the verge of suffering the unprettier.

Mark: Jackson gonna take another opponent out with that same maneuver.

On the eve of connecting with his move Jackson’s plans go horribly awry. Riggs wedges his hands to Jackson’s back and shoves him off, sending Adams charging straight into the ropes. Adams suddenly leaps to the middle cable, landing on it and securing his footing before he springs off, twists in mid-air, lands on Riggs shoulder and spins him around into the tornado DDT.

Riggs’ head slams into the canvas and his body flops to it’s back where he now lays motionless on the canvas.

Comeau: A series of outstanding counters leading to that unbelievable springboard DDT. What action in this gauntlet.

Evermore: It’s been fun, although it probably be far more exciting if Max and I were included into the whole overbooked mess.

The badly damaged Adams just gets to his feet when Psycho charges up behind him and delivers a devastating lariat. His bicep hits Jackson with such force to the back of the head that it sends him twisting through the air. Eventually Adams crashes across his back and Psycho stands over him, remorselessly chuckling at his opponent’s expense.

The laughter ends once his arm is hooked from behind and the large frame of the Sadistic One is hoisted into the Spinal Tap!

Mark: OOOOOHHH!

Evermore: I hear that sound every night through my wall coming from Max’s room.

The crowd explodes at the sight of Evans delivering the half nelson back breaker on his monstrous opponent. Psycho now rolls across the canvas gripping at his spine and mumbling a long string of obscenities. All the while Evans is getting to his feet and turning just in time to spot Riggs leaning back first against a turnbuckle.

Pat takes a play out of Jackson’s handbook, rushing in and leaping into the air, looking for a big knee strike to his prone opponent’s face. Riggs clears out of the way though, causing Pat to land feet first on the middle rope instead. Before Evans has a chance to get his bearings straight, his chin is grabbed and his body is bridged over backwards into an inverted face lock.

Riggs now pulls Evans off of the turnbuckle and flips him over so that he lands ribs first on top of his shoulder. To the absolute astonishment of the crowd Riggs turns and delivers his dreaded Michinoku Driver!

Comeau: Riggs destroying Evans with a creative modification of his finisher. Has he finally killed the spirit of the Adams, Evans conglomerate?

Evermore: Usually you need a young priest and an old priest for something like that.

Riggs has rolled into the cover and has a leg hooked for the pinfall. The referee drops into position, slapping the canvas and bringing the crowd to their feet. The more they pray for a kick out, the less likely it looks.

Mark: What a sad elimination, Evans and Adams put on a hell of a show in this match but in the end Riggs and Psycho were just too much for them.

Evermore: And we have ANOTHER title change, Riggs taking the X-Class Title from Evans.

Riggs sits on the canvas, wearing a look of apathy. There is no expression of joy, there is no burst of elation, there is no emotion at all. He could care less that he’s won a title, getting far more satisfaction in driving Evans’ bloodied skull into the canvas. At this point Psycho is stepping up behind him, patting his partner’s shoulder although Riggs sees no reason to celebrate.

Evermore: I guess my assessment of their abilities was a bit biased, because they’ve made it to the final team. They get the Empire.

Mark: Indeed they do, and what a fascinating match up it should be when Riggs and Psycho collide with AWOL and the World Heavyweight Champion Johnny Kingdom. Is that alliance between these two and AWOL going to be effected by all this.

Axl: Shush Mark, you know we’re supposed to act ignorant about that whole AWOL, Riggs, Psycho saga.

Mark: Oh yeah.

Before Mark’s question can be answered another curve ball is thrown, that is swung on and missed. This cunning strike comes in the form of Christian Savior.

Savior: Nope, don’t think so.

The fans jump down Christian’s throat, wanting to put their fists in his face the second he shows up on the stage and starts talking.

Mark: Why is Christian back out here? Don’t tell me he’s already going to flaunt his power as Douglas’ newest liaison.

Evermore: I’m surprised it’s taken him this long to do it.

Christian waves his hand through the air, disgusted by what he’s seeing. Riggs and Psycho share such repulsion the second their eyes focus on Savior.

Christian: As Dan Douglas’ personal liaison I am expected to take a stand against injustice. Instead of sitting back and letting chaos range like a certain Orlando Cruze, I’m going to be a man who flexes his authoritative muscle, starting right now.

Mark: Oh joy.

Although he’s clearly hurting from his earlier participation in this match Savior will not be deterred.

Savior: I’m not going to stand idly by whistling a diddy and twisting my toes to the sand while blatant outside interference comes into play.

Comeau: Outside interference?

Savior: And that’s exactly, EXACTLY what happened when Pat Evans and Jackson Adams got physically involved in this match. Nowhere on the list of tag teams participating in the gauntlet does it say Jackson Adams and Pat Evans. They were NOT entered into this match as an OFFICIAL team. Sure, they were signed up as partners for Robin and I, but not as their OWN tandem. Therefore, I am overturning my elimination from this match on the basis of illegal outside interference.

Evermore: Why does he even try to justify it?

Savior: Which means that I’m STILL in this gauntlet, and that I can enter this match with whatever tag team partner I want.

Axl: Like that isn’t totally hypocritical. Didn’t he just say that since Evans and Jackson weren’t signed up as a team together that he wasn’t legally eliminated by them? I really have to scratch my head at his logic.

Christian starts towards the ring, not caring one little bit about all the logic gaps in his announcement, just as long as it still favors him.

Christian: Soooo I went out and found myself the best partner I could on short notice. And it may have taken a little arm twisting to get him on board, but I had to have him in my corner. Any man who has pinned my shoulders to the canvas is good enough to stand in my corner, regardless of whether they really want to or not. So allow me to introduce you all to my NEW tag team partner…..Porno Lad!

A palm gestures to the curtains which now part and allow Porno Lad to step through them. His head is lowered and shaking, his eyes looking sorrowful.

Mark: What? Oh come on now. I guess he and Mr. X are FORCING Porno Lad to team with Christian in this gauntlet.

Evermore: If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. Or at least force them to join you. You get the point.

Comeau: I wish I didn’t but I do.

Porno Lad continues to hang his head in shame, forced into a deal with the devil himself. The grin on Christian’s face couldn’t be any wider if his cheeks were pulled apart by wild horses. The Prankster can’t even bring himself to look into the eyes of the fans he passes by, all of them judgmentally watching as he proceeds to the squared circle.

Mark: Once again Susie Moore being used against Porno Lad. Now he’s being forced to team with Christian in this gauntlet. That’s a fate worse than death.

Evermore: I’m stunned that someone as shallow as Porno Lad would be willing to go through such extremes to keep his woman safe.

The co-Submission Champion, although that title may now be in jeopardy considering Robin’s loss of the Submission gold earlier tonight, climbs to the apron. He can barely even bring himself to look at his opponents, who don’t even try to hide their repulsion. They shake their heads as if they watched someone pissing on the Union Jack flag.

Comeau: This isn’t very fair for Riggs and Psycho either, they thought they were going to be facing off against the Empire next, they weren’t counting on this.

Evermore: You want to talk about fair? Is it FAIR to attack your opponents and take them out before this match?

Mark: No, and we’ve certainly seen a lot of that tonight. But nothing has been nearly as repulsive as Christian using Susie Moore to control Porno Lad.

Evermore: I guess Susie is kind of like Porno Lad’s urn.

As the bell chimes Porno Lad finally does bring himself to make eye contact with somebody. His gaze transfers to the smile on Christian’s face. Savior REFUSES to get in his corner, finding it much safer to remain as far out of his opponents’ reach as possible.

Christian: Go on, get in there. Make it fast and not one hair will be harmed on Susie’s head.

He continues gesturing to the ring and disgusting Porno Lad. Neither Riggs nor Psycho are interested by this drama, they are possessed by the need to inflict pain. Almost immediately Riggs dives across the ring, hooks Porno Lad’s arm and hip tosses him over the ropes into the ring.

Porno Lad shockingly flips over and lands on his feet. Although he may have a serious problem with teaming alongside Christian, he has no regrets in laying the boots to his opposition. As soon as he lands on his feet he charges forward right into the waiting arm of Psycho.

No wait, he ducks that he keeps on running. He ricochets from the ropes and comes back at Psycho who throws a big boot. Thankfully Porno Lad had the good timing to duck the boot and keep on running. Now its Riggs who steps in to deliver a knock out shot, but Porno Lad finds another means of evasion.

He drops into a baseball slide right through Riggs’ legs, standing up behind him, and once again using the ropes to build momentum. He bounces right off of them, comes back at Riggs who turns just in time to set for the back drop only to have his opponent leap frog over him.

While Porno Lad is leaping into the air and above his opponent, Psycho rushes forward and delivers a pounce like shoulder tackle. The force of the blow sends Porno Lad soaring far off course and crashing with violent force against the canvas.

Mark: OOOOH MY GOOOOD! Did you….WOW.

Evermore: That looked a little painful. Come on Porno Lad, get up, walk it off.

Mark: I don’t think he’ll be able to walk for a while, he’ll need as much physical therapy as Dan Douglas before he can do that again.

The crowd grimaces at the sight of the pounce, which leaves Porno Lad wrapped around the bottom rope, his eyes as vacant as a zombie’s. Psycho’s eyes are full of emotion though, mostly primal ones. They turn and focus on Christian, who is not pleased one little bit by his partner’s ineffectiveness.

In between all his scowling and grumbles he has no idea that he’s being pointed out, literally, by the Sadistic One. Psycho actually looks at the crowd, who for the first time in a long time are actually endorsing his decision. He and Riggs roll out of the ring and before Christian even realizes it he’s being circle by a pack of sharks.

Comeau: Christian stumbled right into the lion’s den.

Axl: In the words of Audrey 2, it’s supper time!

Mark: Riggs and Psycho would much rather watch Christian bleed, than Porno Lad.

The crowd clues Christian in, realizing that there’s something very troubling about the joy in their voices. He looks first at the painted face of Riggs, who cracks his knuckles at the concept of getting his hands on Christian. Savior backs away from him, palms outstretched and fingers motioning to his injured back.

Mark: Christian trying to get out of this by faking an injury.

Evermore: The last place I’d tell Riggs is where I’m hurting the most.

Riggs has no sympathy of any kind, especially when it comes to Christian, the very individual who screwed him out of the World Title ages ago. Christian absent mindedly stumbles backwards right into the broad chest of the Sadistic One.

Evermore: He’s got nowhere else to run now.

Christian meekly turns around and finds himself eye to eye with Psycho, and before he can get out one order he’s snatched around the throat. Psycho quickly grabs him around the back of the tights, lifts him up into the air with both hands then throws him down throat first right on top of the barricade with an inverted chokeslam.

Christian lands on his feet but more importantly throat first across the barrier. He bounces off gasping for air, hands engulfing his neck.

Axl: With one move they may have just ended his career. By the end of this, they may just kill him. That’s one funeral I wouldn’t be crying at.

Comeau: You cry often?

Evermore: I’m a very sensitive man. It’s kind of impossible not to cry when sitting through a Riggs promo. It’s like the Lifetime network has joined forces with the IWC.

The drama, or more accurately, the trauma, escalates as Savior staggers back into the waiting arms of Riggs. The Painted Warrior spins him around and cracks him to the side of the head with a big spinning buzzsaw kick.

Mark: OUCH.

The stiff shot echoes throughout the arena but surprisingly doesn’t send Christian off of his feet. He might as well have fell given the fact that he’s unconscious while vertical. He turns right into the hands of Psycho once again. They engulf his throat as the Sadistic One tosses him by the neck to the apron.

Savior hits hard and rolls under the ropes into the ring as a result.

Mark: This is exactly where Psycho and Riggs want him. These two have a long personal rivalry with the Rising Phoenix.

Evermore: Doesn’t everyone? Even I have a longstanding rivalry with Christian.

Mark: Me too, sorta.

Evermore: SEE!

Psycho and Riggs tower over a prone Christian, desperately trying to defend himself against such overwhelming odds. The best he can do is scoot backwards across his knees, half heartedly offering bonuses should they spare his life. Shockingly it’s Porno Lad who comes to his rescue. He dives across the ring and drives a forearm straight against Riggs’ temple. When he has the Painted Warrior staggered, Porno Lad goes straight after Psycho.

The Sadistic One throws a punch that is blocked and responded to with an open hand palm slap across the bosom.

Mark: Look at Porno Lad go, he’s cooking with fire.

Evermore: Yes, and fire tends to burn. Alright, I’m going to stop reading the teleprompter if those are the best lines they can feed me with.

The Prankster now leaps into the air, his knee catching the Sadistic One under the jaw and sending him collapsing into the cables. He turns and falls throat first over the top rope, perfect positioning for the former N.H.B Champion. Porno Lad ricochets from the far cables and comes barreling back towards Psycho before leaping into the air. He lands seat first across the back of Psycho’s head, choking him against the top rope.

The collisions ends Porno Lad spilling over to the apron and Psycho staggering backwards into the waiting clutches of Christian. Savior pulls the big man down into a school boy, hoping his partner has inflicted enough punishment for him to pick up the win.

NYOOO!

Riggs is there to break up the count by grabbing Savior’s hair, dragging him off of the cover then hoisting him into the air for the scoop slam. Before he can connect Porno Lad is back in the ring and once again coming to the aid of his partner.

He dives forward head first into Riggs’ mid-section, causing him to loose his grip on Savior and allowing Christian to slip free from his shoulder.

Mark: Porno Lad once again coming to the aid of Christian Savior. This is just so odd considering the issues between these two over the past six or so months.

Evermore: I guess Porno Lad will do anything for the nookie. Why I just read the teleprompter again I have no idea.

Riggs is doubled over just long enough for Christian to charge up behind him and grab the back of his head. He is going for the one handed bulldog and leaping into the air only for Riggs to plant his feet and shove him off. As a result Savior goes flying forward right into the now upright Psycho’s shoulder.

The Sadistic One catches Savior, hoists him into the air, spins around and then drives him viciously into the canvas with the spine buster. At the same time Porno Lad is still kneeling in front of Riggs after using his body as a battering ram. Giving Riggs just the position he needs to rush forward and connect with a textbook shinning wizard.

Comeau: Nice timing from both Psycho and Riggs who work so cohesively with one another that it’s just amazing.

Evermore: You want to see cohesion, pop in a Sex & Violence match. You want to see sloppy, just keep watching these two makeshift teams demonstrate why tag team wrestling is dying a sad, slow death.

Once again Wright is unsure of who is the legal participant in this match so when Psycho and Riggs go for simultaneous pins, the official drops to his knees and slaps the canvas.

Christian’s and Porno Lad’s shoulders lunge from the canvas at the same time, preventing a double pinfall.

Mark: We were very close to yet another double fall in this match. If you remember, several years ago at Redemption Roe, that’s how this very same match ended, with a double pinfall by Orlando Cruze and Jon Rich.

Evermore: Sadly I tend to remember the many convoluted endings in IWC, so yes, yes I do recall it. Even though, technically, I was beaten almost too death by Evans and Aurora Rose.

The crowd is stunned that Riggs and Psycho were so very close to advancing to the final round of this Gauntlet by way of a double pinfall. They do not allow their failures to nag them, both men back on their feet and putting the boots to their opponents.

Porno Lad tries to cover up but it’s to no avail. He’s quickly taken by the hair, dragged to his feet and charged at a nearby turnbuckle, his face being driven into it with great force. At the same time Christian is led to his feet and then hoisted into the air on top of Psycho’s palms.

Mark: Uh oh, uh oh, watch out here, watch out!

Christian’s face goes as pale as a ghost’s as he’s military pressed over the ropes and sent crashing hard to the outside mats.

Comeau: What a brutal landing for Christian, that may have just shattered every bone in his body.

Porno Lad is still propped against a turnbuckle as Riggs’ five knuckles drill him under the jaw. At the same time Psycho steps in and his open palm engulfs the sternum of the challenger for his title. Porno Lad winces from the pain, his chest perhaps caved in by the blow.

His opponents haven’t even gotten started yet as Riggs delivers an elbow to the back of his neck and then drags him away from the corner. He and Psycho each take a wrist and launch Porno Lad off across the ring. He ricochets from the opposite cables and comes back in at both men who catch him by the stomach, hoist him into the air and deliver a devastating double spinebuster.

The whole ring shakes thanks to the force of Porno Lad’s body hitting the canvas.

Mark: More tag team work from these two. It might help Porno Lad’s chances of winning if the referee would get one of his opponents out of the ring.

Evermore: I think the majority of the officiating staff were picked straight from a line outside of a Methadone clinic.

Porno Lad arches his back from the ring and greaves from his many physical ailments. At this precise moment in time Riggs and Psycho step forward, lift their elbows and drop them simultaneously into both sides of Porno Lad’s chest, causing him to convulse uncontrollably.

The dominate duo rise to their feet, exchange a quick glance then take off into opposite ropes. As they ricochet off they have the same though, simultaneously lunging into the air yet again and this time going for a double headbunt. What they hadn’t counted on was the quick wit of their opponent, Porno Lad sitting up and getting out of the way just in the nick of time.

As a result Riggs and Psycho hit the canvas with their faces, and the taste is awful.

Evermore: There we go.

Mark: Porno Lad got out of the way, saving his team and saving Susie Moore as well. I would suppose that if she’s in the possession of Mr. X, then her safety hinges on Porno Lad and Christian winning this match.

Riggs and Psycho try to shake it off, slowly ascending to their feet yet still stooped over. That’s when Porno Lad charges in, lunges into the air, and lands with both legs extended across the backs of his opponents. He delivers a stereo famouser, driving the faces of Riggs and Psycho right back down into the canvas.

Mark: Very impressive by Porno Lad, who is really putting in a valiant effort in this match.

Axl: I fail to see why it’s all that valiant, but if you want to keep using that generic phrase I won’t stop you.

Riggs and Psycho try to recover although their heads are splitting at this point. They slowly begin to ascend to their feet while Porno Lad moves in, clobbering them both with forearms. He turns towards the Cartel Champion and catches him with a forearm, then spins around and drills Riggs to the temple with his elbow. He’s desperately trying to keep them both down, but he hadn’t counted on their incredible recuperative abilities.

He quickly takes the wrist of Riggs and tries to shoot him off into the ropes in order to get some distance between the two. However, Riggs shows his cunning by providing a timely counter. Instead it’s Porno Lad who is launched into the ropes. He bounces off and comes back in at Riggs who stoops just in time to catch the inner thighs of his opposition and toss him straight over his head.

Porno Lad flies through the air and shockingly lands legs first right on top of Psycho’s shoulders. Just before he can drop back and deliver a hurricarana that Riggs leaps into the air, catches him around the back of the head and delivers an inverted bulldog. He drops back just as Psycho delivers a powerbomb.

Mark: SICK! Sick maneuver by Psycho and Riggs. I’ve never seen anything like that.

Evermore: Riggs got some great extension on that leap in order to hit that almost improbable maneuver.

The inverted bulldog, powerbomb combination leaves Porno Lad thrashing around on the canvas and Psycho going for the pin. At this exact same time Riggs’ attention has deviated to the outside of the ring where Christian Savior is struggling with the time keeper.

Finally he gets the X-Class Title belt out of the official’s hands.

Savior: This is mine, MINE!

Savior has no idea that Riggs has grabbed the top rope and is about to put an end to this title thievery. He pulls himself over the cable and soars through the air, plummeting towards Savior who shockingly turns and cracks his opponent right in the face with his own belt.

Mark: NOOOO!

Evermore: Jesus Christ, must you burst my eardrums?

Comeau: Sorry, I just can’t help being outraged over what I just witnessed. Savior trying to take back the X-Class title and then he uses it to bash Riggs’ brains in.

Psycho has no idea what is happening outside of the ring, just as clueless as the official who has dropped to make the count.

The arena reacts in disbelief, unable to accept that Porno Lad has been pin….well, it’s one thought they won’t have to be burdened with, because Porno Lad actually kicked out a fraction of a second before the three. Psycho looks at the referee like he were a lamb, and the Sadistic One was a hungry T-Rex.

He rises to his feet and approaches the official, who is begging off, ensuring the Cartel Champion that there was absolutely nothing wrong with his count.

Before Psycho can get his hands on the referee his attention deviates towards Savior who is standing over the body of his partner. His eyes cut from the unconscious Riggs to the X-Class Title in Savior’s hand, putting two and two together. He suddenly becomes enraged, dropping to the canvas and rolling under the ropes in order to get his hands on the Rising Phoenix.

Comeau: Savior is about to regret his actions because Psycho is going to practice some capital punishment.

Christian has no idea that Psycho is descending upon him until he’s already trapped in the clutches of the monster. Psycho charges Savior forward and throws him into the announce table. The Rising Phoenix hits the wood and rolls over it, crashing right into Evermore.

Mark: WHOOOOAAA! Savior tossed into my broadcast colleague. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened. Hell I was thrown into someone else earlier.

Axl is actually tipped over in his chair, falling back with Christian landing on top of him. As the bodies pile up at ringside Psycho watches with glee, if he’s actually capable of such emotions that is. A slight smirk inhabits his face as he turns his focus back to the ring where Porno Lad is desperately trying to recover.

Psycho sluggishly ascends to the apron, beginning to feel the wear and tear of what has been a very physically draining bout thus far. He has no idea that Evermore has shoved his way out from under Savior and is now in the process of reaching into the crowd and snatching up a steel chair.

Comeau: Axl what are you doing, what are you doing Axl?

Evermore throws down his headset, steps over Christian’s body and without any semblance of emotion swings the chair as hard as Barry Bonds swinging a bat straight into Psycho’s lower back.

Mark: AXL! What have you done!?!

It doesn’t even dawn on Evermore what he’s just done to his rival, emotionlessly throwing down his chair and backing away from his handiwork. Psycho is left in crippling pain, reaching for his kidneys and instinctively slipping back into the ring.

As soon as he gets half way through Porno Lad moves up beside him and delivers the Epic Fail.

Comeau: Now the Epic Fail delivered!

Psycho twists through the ropes and crumbles across the canvas with Porno Lad dropping down on top of him and hooking both legs.

Mark: He may have him, Porno Lad may have Psycho pinned!

The official slaps the canvas with the crowd screaming.

A NEW Cartel Champion has officially been crowned.

Mark: This is inconceivable. Porno Lad has just pinned Psycho for the Cartel Championship. He’s got to give Axl a lot of credit though for his big assist.

Evermore continues to back up, eyeing the product of his outburst, still showing not even the slightest hint of a single emotion. He steps up the ramp and observes Porno Lad’s celebration, the Prankster sits up throwing both arms high into the air.

Comeau: What a stunning turn of events in this gauntlet. First Christian forces Porno Lad to be his partner and they enter this gauntlet, THEN Axl hits Psycho with that chair and as a result Porno Lad has just captured the tag team and the Cartel Title. Where the hell is my broadcast colleague?

Evermore has vanished in the midst of Porno Lad’s celebration. He rises to his feet, stooped over and still feeling the results of this grueling bout, the official showing him why it was all worth it once the Cartel Title is draped over his forearms. Porno Lad stares down into the belt but his eyes quickly divert to the face of Christian Savior.

The Rising Phoenix slips through the ropes and with an insidious grin extends his hand.

Comeau: What is Savior doing now? As if he already hasn’t done enough.

It takes everything Porno Lad has inside of him to swallow his pride and fork over the Cartel Championship to Christian.

Mark: WHAT!?!

A chuckling Christian takes the Cartel Championship into his palms and now it’s his reflection in the gold.

Porno Lad: I lived up to my end of the bargain, now tell your friend to let her go.

Christian: In due time, in due time. You’ve yet to complete your task.

Porno Lad stews in anger while Christian tosses the Cartel Title over his shoulder.

Mark: I don’t believe this malarkey. Christian making Porno Lad do aaalllll the work, then he’s taking whatever titles the Prankster wins? This is just criminal. Seriously, Christian should be tried by a jury of his peers for this. Although, I don’t imagine he’d consider anyone to be on his level, thus he wouldn’t have very many peers. Am I rambling? I’M ANGRY!

The rambling ends right around the same time that the next opponent’s music kicks in.

WAKE UP!

A reaction so earth shattering it almost opens a fault-line culminates at the sight of Kingdom and AWOL. The second that the subway doors open, out steps the Big Crazy Bastard, followed by a World Title belt toting Johnny Kingdom. The two stop at the stage where Kingdom holds up his gold and AWOL stands behind him, throwing a fist into the air. These gestures correspond with a mushroom loud explosion on both sides of the Imperial tandem.

Mark: Out of the kitchen and into the fire, that’s the only thing I can say about Porno Lad’s and Christian’s chances now. The possibilities of either man walking away from this with a victory have just become slimmer than Carlisa Flockhart. Because here comes the Empire and their fresher than daisies.

Kingdom and AWOL march towards the squared circle, where victory is all but a guarantee in their minds. Christian and Porno Lad looks to prove their opponents’ assumption dead wrong. Despite the tension that exists between them, relating mostly to the Cartel Title draped over Christian’s shoulder, the two hunker down ready for battle. Porno Lad keeps one eye on his opponents and the other is focused Savior, ready for anything he might do.

Mark: This should be a fantastic match between these two solid tag teams, I can’t wait to see Kingdom get his hands on Christian, that’s the match-up to keep your eyes on. But how long is Porno Lad going to keep playing sec….?

Just as AWOL and Kingdom take their place on the apron while Christian volunteers Porno Lad to start out for their team first a curve ball is once again pitched, swung on, and missed for the game winning strike.

ANIMAL I’VE BECOME

The crowd goes quiet, not out of apathy, but shock as Too Magnificent leads the way to the stage, a shaken up Cagero following suit.

Mark: What is this? I didn’t expect to see these two again after the ridiculous method in which they were eliminated earlier.

It doesn’t take long for everyone to receive an explanation. With microphone in hand Simon supplies the answers that were demanded.

Simon: Yeah, it’s us again, how are all my little fuckers doing tonight?

A rousing wave of applause tells Simon that the crowd is just peachy.

Cagero: FUCK YEAH! That’s what I like to hear. That’s more satisfying than having my cock sucked by a barely legal bitch. But I tell you two guys who weren’t very happy, who weren’t living it up with a beer in one hand and a hotdog in the other. I’m talking about Too Magnificent, the Philadelphia native himself….

The crowd enjoys the cheap pop as Too Magnificent winks in the direction of his hometown fans.

Simon: And everyone’s favorite foul mouth, Simon Cagero.

Now the reaction is that of dread, everyone saddened by the MOA’s sadness earlier tonight. It’s a true cycle of sadness. The only thing that makes the Empire, Christian and Porno Lad sad, is the delay in their tag team match.

Cagero: Yep, we were down in the crapper earlier, but you know what raised our spirits? What gave us a lift faster than any little blue pill? Orlando Cruze, that wondrous son of a bitch, and his awesome decision making. Despite what some people may say, Orlando isn’t negligent, and although he may resemble a crash test dummy, he’s built for more than just dangerous stunts and reproduction. The man has got a sharp mind.

AWOL and Kingdom share a laugh at the concept.

Simon: It takes a true genius, no, no, a BALD genius, to see that Too Magnificent and I deserved a second chance. That’s just what we’ve got FUCKERS!

The smiles on the faces of the Empire fade while Porno Lad shrugs and Christian trembles with anger.

Cagero: Christian opened the door and Orlando took it off its hinges, letting us right back into this match. You ladies can now consider this the first three way you’ve ever competed in. No, no, Porno Lad, using a rubber woman and your hand at the same time don’t count…

Porno Lad laughs at the concept and vehemently confirms that such a situation does constitute a three-way.

Simon: But to make matters fair, this bitch is one and done, meaning after a title changes hands it stays with the person who pinned the champ. So ladies and gentlemen, are you ready to get…..

Too Magnificent grabs the wrist of his partner and yanks the mic to his lips.

Too Magnificent: WASTED!?!

The reception is deafening, the fans enlivened at the concept of what should be an amazing alteration to this gauntlet. They wait anxiously to see Christian get his comeuppance and what other effects the Motherfuckers of America will have on the impending clash.

Comeau: Another shocker tonight, as if we already haven’t had enough. Simon and Too Magnificent given a second chance after they were ambushed earlier and quickly eliminated. I think if Christian can re-insert himself into this match after feeling slighted, then Simon and Too Magnificent should have the same liberty. This is going to be off the hook.

Johnny’s gaze could cut diamonds right now, not liking the idea this swerve tossed in at the last minute, catching him completely unprepared. It leaves him so distracted he doesn’t even realize that Christian is sneaking up behind him, fist cocked back. He grabs Kingdom’s shoulder, spins him around and goes for the ever convenient cheap shot.

Luckily Kingdom is the master of dirty tactics, catching the fist before it could connect then poking Savior right in the eye. Christian turns away as AWOL charges up behind him, catches the back of his head and charges him towards the ropes, tossing him through to the outside.

Savior grabs hold of the middle cable, now finding himself dangling from it, feet kicking the air.

Mark: We are underway ladies and gentlemen in what is already looking to be a chaotic climax to this gauntlet.

AWOL and Johnny would normally move in for the kill while Christian is suspended in such a fragile position. However, with a sigh Porno Lad keeps the two from mangling the Rising Phoenix. He clubs them simultaneously over the back with both forearms, knocking the Empire duo forward a few steps. Once they turn back towards him Porno Lad leaps into the air going for a stereo lariat.

The two duck the inbound arms of their opponent, causing Porno Lad to stagger forward with nothing to show for his troubles. His eyes go wide as he realizes the world of pain he’s exposed himself to. He spins just in time for AWOL and Kingdom to join hands and charge forward for a double clothesline that would all but behead their opponent.

This time it’s one man who ducks out of the way in time, Porno Lad, lowering his head as both arms travel over his head. Their momentum carries the Team Leader and the Big Crazy Bastard for into stereo lariats delivered by both Too Magnificent and Simon Cagero. The two entered just in time to catch their opponents with their pants down.

Mark: Great timing by the Motherfuckers of America to get in there and deliver that powerful lariat. The Empire is down already, which is shocking considering how fresh they are.

With all his adversaries tied up at the moment Christian decides to be slick. Although he doesn’t have to, and there would probably be a dozen safer ways to get into the ring, Savior shows off, big shock, by skinning the cat. He finds himself hanging like a bat upside down from the ropes just as Simon leaps into the air, delivering a baseball dropkick through the ropes, where both feet meet Christian’s grill.

The fans gasp and cover their mouths as Savior is knocked off of the ropes, the back of his head cracking the apron and his body meeting the mats.

Comeau: BRUTAL dropkick.

At the same time Christian’s partner receives an equally as brutal fate. The second Porno Lad stands up Too Magnificent is right on top of him, snatching hold of his throat and grinning as he prepares for the chokeslam. Porno Lad dashes those hopes with a big swinging kick to TM’s wrist, breaking the hand away from his throat.

Porno Lad makes a full rotation after the kick then leaps into the air, delivering another kick this time of the corkscrew variety. The sideways flipping kick connects to Too Magnificent’s face but shockingly he’s still on both feet. He swings his arms to remain upright, stumbling and staggering like a man on an all night binder.

Cagero rushes in to aid his partner only to walk right into a kick to the gut, putting him in perfect position for the front chancery. That’s just what Porno Lad applies, one of few submission holds he knows well enough. After getting Simon in his clutches he leaps into the air, swings around and kicks Too Magnificent under the jaw before delivering a tornado DDT.

Simon is SPIKED right on top of his head with enough force to send him flipping over to his bum.

Mark: YOOOUCH!

The fans are stunned by the gruesome meeting of Simon’s head with the canvas. Porno Lad pulls Simon down to his back and goes for the quick cover while Too Magnificent falls against the ropes to hold himself upright. He has no idea where he is, let alone that his partner is in peril.

Johnny reaches under the ropes, grabs Porno Lad’s leg and pulls him off of the cover.

Comeau: I’m not sure Kingdom did the smart thing there. If I were him I’d let Porno Lad get the pin so that the World Title is no longer in jeopardy. But I suppose that Johnny wants to leave here tonight with even more gold around his waist.

Johnny is far more calculating than Mark is giving him credit for. He didn’t pull Porno Lad off of Simon to start a fight. The second that PL’s eyes lock on Johnny, the World Champion urgently gestures to an upright Too Magnificent, calling out for Porno Lad to watch himself. This alters PL’s focus, realizing that Johnny is right and turning just in time to catch an inbound Too Magnificent.

He delivers a step up enzugari straight to the back of Too Mag’s head, knocking him forward into the ropes.

Too Magnificent is tripped up and sent crashing throat first into the middle cable, which appears to be the only thing supporting his gargantuan weight. Johnny quickly delivers an uppercut shot directly to Too Magnificent’s face while he’s prone against the ropes. AWOL steps in and delivers a palm strike directly to the cheek. They are making sure Too Magnificent is completely incapacitated but not risking entering the ring where Johnny’s World Title would be risked.

Their strategy seems to be to hang out at ringside for as long as possible and let their opponents pummel each other, then swoop in for the easy pinfall. Porno Lad could care less what his opponents are doing considering that he finds himself in the middle of a handicap match, all he’s trying to do is survive.

He stands up, turns towards the prone Too Magnificent, stomps his feet and gets a running start into the opposite cables. He bounces off and comes back in at the prone opponent only to charge right into the heel of the forgotten Simon. Cagero connects with a leg lariat that leaves Porno Lad down and hurting. <>Mark: Simon saving his partner once again through some excellent timing. Cagero’s showing us all what makes him a true veteran, using Porno Lad’s inexperience against him.

Simon rushes at the ropes to celebrate even the most mundane of accomplishments. He hoops and hollers, rallying the crowd up to a frenzy as he leaps to the ropes, standing beside his still loopy partner. He has no idea that Christian has re-entered the ring behind him and is looking for some revenge.

He charges at Simon’s backside, leaping to the middle rope, springing off and adjusting himself in mid-air. He hangs upside down this time latching onto not cables but Simon’s hips, dragging him down into a thunderous sunset flip powerbomb.

Mark: And that ladies and gentlemen is some true expert timing as well. Nicely played by Savior, and it may be just the move he needed to pick up this win.

Christian is quick to his feet, bending down and wedging his shoulder to the creases of Simon’s knees then kicking his feet up to the middle rope for added leverage.

AWOL pushes Savior’s feet off the ropes, breaking up the pinfall in the process.

Mark: I guess the Empire trying to influence this match without actually participating in it. Much the same way Orlando did. I tell you this much, Cruze has no problem exploiting that “card subject to change” disclaimer attached to all these pay-per-views. This is the second big show in a row where he’s altered the main event.

Without thinking Savior stands up and actually spits down into AWOL’s face. The second the saliva strikes his cheek the Big Crazy Bastard grins, now having an excuse to actually get into the ring and put his hands on the Rising Phoenix. AWOL slips into the ring and Christian finds himself alone with a wild, untamed animal.

The spit is wiped away from AWOL’s face, the bastard staring down the puddle in his palm and chuckling. Christian tries to explain himself, palms raised defensively. It doesn’t take long for one of those palms to form a fist that he swings right at AWOL’s head.

AWOL ducks the fist just in the nick of time, sending Christian sailing forward into the ropes. He bounces off and comes back in at AWOL who turns, catches Savior and delivers a VIOLENT spinning powerslam.

Mark: OHHH how painful! We saw Psycho do that on the stage earlier, I guess taking a book right out of AWOL’s gameplan.

AWOL rises to his feet as Christian lays quivering beneath him. The big man stands up just in time to see a recovered Simon sprinting across the ring and leaping to the turnbuckle a few inches away. Simon springs off of the ropes and twists in mid-air for the crossbody block. However, AWOL nonchalantly turns his back and steps out of the way, causing Simon to completely miss him and hit nothing but canvas.

Comeau: Hahaha, AWOL has got the timing down too.

AWOL leans forearms first against the ropes, kicking back almost and lowering his palm to the outside where Kingdom high fives it. In the midst of all this manly jocularity neither Empire member realizes what Porno Lad is up to. He discreetly rushes past AWOL, steps off of Too Magnificent’s upper back, who was still being supported by the middle rope and crashes with a crossoby onto the unsuspecting Kingdom.

Mark: Porno Lad using Too Magnificent as a stepping stool to take out the World Heavyweight Champion. Johnny’s opponents are going to include him in this match whether he wants to participate or not.

AWOL becomes livid, spewing threats at a rising Porno Lad then taking off into the opposite cables himself. He ricochets off, the crowd building in excitement at the thought of AWOL sending his huge frame diving through the air.

They do see AWOL go airborne, but his landing is less than perfect. As he comes barreling into the dive Too Magnificent stands up, steps away from the ropes and bends down just in time to catch AWOL with a big back body drop.

Comeau: The Motherfuckers of America breaking up yet another dive. This time it’s Too Magnificent thwarting AWOL.

The golden goliath now turns and spots Porno Lad climbing up to the apron behind him. The Prankster has hold of the top rope and is using it to go for a flight. He leaps upward, getting in the air just when Too Magnificent delivers a pump kick directly to his skull. Once again Porno Lad is knocked out of the air and sent crashing with a thud to the outside mats.

Mark: Dangerous, very dangerous kick by Too Magnificent. He has been nothing short of an animal since his return.

Too Magnificent continues to go primal as he turns just in time to spot the inbound Savior. He quickly side steps his opponent, catches Christian under his arm and heaves him into the air before dropping out into a big side slam. He hooks Savior’s leg and leans back into the cover.

Christian kicks out just in time, the Rising Phoenix and new liaison staying alive. Too Magnificent isn’t about to let him stay animate for long, he stands up slapping his leg and pointing to the top rope.

Comeau: Oooooh mmmmyyy, are we gonna see the Arrogance is Bliss already?

Wright stands back, throwing his arms up into the air, not even bothering to get some semblance of control. He just watches like everyone else as Too Magnificent slips through the ropes and prepares to climb the turnbuckle. He steps to the middle cable when a groggy Kingdom reaches out and catches his ankle.

Before Too Magnificent knows what’s what Johnny has leaped to the apron behind him, grabbed the back of his head and driven his face into the top of the exposed steel turnbuckle post.

The collision rings Too Magnificent’s skull, but not as bad as Kingdom’s next move. He turns Too Magnificent around, still clutching the back of his head then charges across the apron and leaps into the air. While Johnny falls to the outside Too Magnificent is dragged by the hair down into a face buster on the apron.

Mark: DEVASTATING!

Too Magnificent’s nose possibly fractures against the hardest portion of the ring while Johnny lands gracefully on his feet across the mats.

While the Philly crowd cheers what’s going on outside of the ring the action is really picking up inside as well. Simon is back up, as is Christian, Savior the first to take a shot. He spins around and delivers a discus punch straight to Simon’s jaw, almost fracturing it on impact. The strike sends Simon almost down to the canvas only for him to respond with a spinning heel kick.

The heel is successfully avoided by Savior who waits for Cagero to face him. As soon as Cagero is about face, Christian leaps up into a European Uppercut right to Cagero’s jaw. The blow sends him reeling spine first into the turnbuckle, arms falling over the ropes to maintain his upright base. Porno Lad slips into the ring and takes over for Christian who has climbed to the apron is shouting at a recovering AWOL.

The Big Crazy Bastard rolled to the outside after that back drop to buy him some time but his plan backfires. He looks up just as Savior leaps off of the apron and crashes into him with a big splash. The two tumble to the outside mats with Savior coming down on top. In the meantime Porno Lad has sat Simon on the top rope and is climbing up after him.

Mark: Simon and Porno Lad getting up into very dangerous territory.

The moment they reach the top rope Porno Lad already tries to leap up into the hurricarana. However, Simon reaches out and sweeps the creases of his knees, causing PL to loose his footing and drop down onto the top ropes across the back of his legs. Porno Lad tries to catch himself but it’s pointless as he falls back and hangs upside down from the top rope.

Comeau: Now he’s trapped in the tree of woe.

Porno Lad flails his arms in a desperate attempt to free himself, realizing that he’s in a very, very serious predicament. Cagero leaps off of the top rope and lands on the canvas with the grace of a feline before taking off across the ring to seize advantage of his opponent’s current predicament.

He has no idea that Johnny has the same idea, the World Champion sliding into the ring and barreling towards Porno Lad as well. Both Kingdom and Cagero simultaneously leap into the air as four boots connect directly to Porno Lad’s suspended face with a stereo basement dropkick.

Mark: OHHHH, some rare teamwork between opponents. You don’t see that very often.

Porno Lad looks as dead as a month old corpse rotting in the sun. He remains suspended by his legs above the canvas, now reaching for the spots he sees floating in front of his eyes. His opponents reach for the heavens though, taunting upon getting to their feet.

They lift their fists into the air, celebrating just before Kingdom swings around and almost beheads Cagero with a lariat. The force of the clothesline sends Simon crashing to the canvas and Johnny crawling on top of him for the pin.

The crowd fooled themselves in believing that would be enough to put Cagero down and now they just feel silly. He kicks out moments before the count could be finished.

Comeau: Johnny showing why you’ve always got to keep eyes in the back of your head.

On the outside of the ring Christian has AWOL propped spine first against the turnbuckle and is now moving in for five knuckle sandwich to his opponent’s mouth. The moment he gets within arms length AWOL shoots his hands out and fires them right into Christian’s throat. Savior is caught in a goozle before he’s tossed by his neck over the barricade and into the crowd.

He crashes hard across the concrete, which hasn’t been his friend at all throughout this gauntlet. AWOL would usually follow this up with a vicious beatdown in the ring but he hears his partner calling to him. He gives Savior a reprieve, sliding back into the ring where Kingdom is in the process of rolling Simon to the center. AWOL quickly turns his back to Johnny who lunges to his partner’s spine, wrapping his legs around the Big Crazy Bastard’s waist and his arms around his neck.

AWOL gets a running start then leaps into the air, falling backwards with Kingdom strapped on, into a big spine first splash onto the prone Cagero. AWOL’s and Johnny’s weight smashes the poor little veteran, who Kingdom is once again on the verge of pinning.

Johnny let go of AWOL just in time to find himself stretched back first across Simon’s chest and hooking a leg.

Too Magnificent reenters the ring and stomps Johnny straight to the forehead. The shot breaks up the pin and causes Johnny to roll away, Too Magnificent trying to keep his team alive.

Mark: Too Magnificent there to have his opponent’s back, which is the most important thing to keep in mind in a match as frantic as this. Has the rule book all but been thrown out the window at this point? Just thought I’d get some clarification.

Boots continue to drill the top of Kingdom’s head while AWOL moves up behind the individual dishing out the punishment. A clubbing blow connects to Too Magnificent’s upper back and how AWOL hooks one of his arms, going for an overhead half nelson suplex.

Too Magnificent avoids what could be a potentially career shortening move by rooting his feet then shoving AWOL’s frame spine first into the turnbuckle. Both men crash against the corner with AWOL sandwiched between opponent and turnbuckle.

He looks a bit dazed while Too Magnificent turns around and takes his wrist. AWOL is shot out of the turnbuckle and across the ring where he meets a wobbly Porno Lad with a lariat of such force that it twists him inside out. All of Porno Lad’s vital organs are nearly exposed as he goes into a full backwards flip before finally hitting the canvas.

Too Magnificent watches this with much amusement, glad that he was the instigator of such a violent collision. Although he may adore violence, he won’t like what’s coming next. Christian has discreetly climbed to the turnbuckle behind Too Magnificent is now flying off. He catches both of Too Mag’s shoulders, wedges his knees to the big man’s spine and delivers the backstabber.

Mark: YYYIIIIKES! Now that truly is career shortening.

The back may be broken but Too Magnificent refuses to call out in pain, instead he just rolls on the canvas bridging his spine from the ring. Savior takes advantage of the lack of a legal man, pinning Too Magnificent’s shoulders to the canvas.

Both of Simon’s feet crash into Christian’s lower back, delivering the double stomp. The stiff blow sends Savior rolling to his back while Simon lands on his feet then catches some air. He drops both knees across the top rope and falls back into the split legged moonsault right on top of Savior.

Now it’s Cagero who drops forward into the pin, looking to avenge his loss to Christian earlier in the night.

The crowd frantically counts along but finds their hopes dashed the second that AWOL pulls Simon off of the lateral press.

Comeau: These guys have got to realize that they must incapacitate everyone else before they can go for a pin. AWOL wants those tag team titles, and he isn’t about to let Simon steal the big pay raise that comes with being a champion right out from under him.

Simon turns onto his back and with almost cat like reflexes lifts his legs into the air, wrapping them around AWOL’s head. The brooding, menacing goliath stands up, lifting Simon into the air and onto his shoulders as Cagero begins jabbing him over and over again to the face.

Cagero realizes the very serious predicament he is in, prompting him to drop back and go for the hurricarana. AWOL isn’t about to let that happen as he wedges his hands to the back of Simon’s thighs and pushes him off into a backwards flip.

Cagero would normally simply land on his feet but instead he flips through the air his knees land on a recovered Kingdom’s shoulders and Johnny drops to his seat. Simon is pulled down out of the air and slammed front first into the canvas, his face and chest taking most of the damage.

Mark: That was downright painful. Simon may be completely out after that amazing tandem move from the Empire.

Cagero thrashes around on the canvas like a drug addict off his meds. Johnny would normally go for a pin at this point but he looks a little fatigued, his brain still scrambled by those stomps from Too Magnificent. AWOL is about to step in and pin Simon on behalf of his partner only to spot Porno Lad charging in.

AWOL catches the prankster and tosses him into the air, reaching out to catch his legs and pull him down into a powerbomb. However, Porno Lad has conflicting plans. He gets airborne then comes down knees first into AWOL’s chest, knocking him off of his feet and down spine first into the canvas.

Porno Lad comes down on top of him, ramming both knees into the clavicle of the Big Crazy Bastard.

Mark: And Porno Lad follows it up with an equally as nice maneuver. Those knees may have shattered something in AWOL’s neck.

The crowd is so riveted by all this fast paced, frantic action that they’ve actually started an IWC chant. Porno Lad stands up and basks in their adulation, pumping his fist into the air to get the crowd behind him. During his second fist pumping his raised arm is caught at the crease of the elbow.

Too Magnificent then spins him around, catches him around the waist and heaves his opponent into the air. He twists around and delivers a belly to belly slam that drives Porno Lad to the canvas with emphasis.

Mark: There are just bodies being thrown and slammed all over the place. This is harder to follow than an episode of 24.

Too Magnificent gets to his elbows and knees, then spots Simon out of the corner of his eye. As Cagero utilizes the ropes to stand he can hear his partner calling to him. The banged up Simon turns in time to spot Too Magnificent just a few inches away from the ropes which AWOL is now standing on the opposite side of.

Once again AWOL cleared out of the madhouse and is now staggering around on the outside mats, trying to get his head straight. At this exact point in time Simon rushes across the ring, steps off of Too Magnificent’s back, leaps to the top rope and then takes flight. He flips forward and crashes upside down right into AWOL’s chest, the two collapsing to the mats amongst a righteous ovation from the exhilarated crowd.

Mark: A simply awesome dive from Cagero. I’m surprised that he’s showing little side effects after going through that table earlier. It’s adrenaline that is keeping him going.

Another “I.W.C” chant has commenced from the crowd, they are loving every second of this non-stop action. Inside of the ring it seems that Too Magnificent is about to fall victim to a truly heinous maneuver. He is slowly standing up when Kingdom swoops in, takes him around the neck and calls for the Exodus Finale.

Mark: Here comes the brainbuster DDT. Nobody gets up from this.

Johnny has to hit the move first however. He lifts Too Magnificent only for the big man to shift his weight and come back down to his feet. The Team Leader grimaces and tries to lift him again but Too Mag isn’t about to fall victim to Johnny’s kill move.

He shifts his weight and comes back down again, landing on his feet then quickly pulling his head free. He takes Johnny’s wrist and whips him forward right into the waiting Savior. Christian leaps into the air as Johnny comes at him and catches the back of his head, pulling him down into the code breaker.

Mark: Beautifully timed and wonderfully executed. Christian striking like a viper and taki…..OH NO!

Kingdom somehow remains upright, the force of the move sending him back up to his feet and twisting right into the waiting hand of Too Magnificent. It engulfs Kingdom’s throat before he’s heaved into the air and chokeslammed down to the canvas.

Comeau: Now Johnny may be down COMPLETELY. Whoever pins him may just become the new World Heavyweight Champion and eliminate the Empire.

The crowd bites their nails from the suspense as Too Magnificent rises to his feet and calls for his kill move, the Midas Touch. Just as his arms swipe through the air, Christian barrels forward and tears into his ribcage with the Blaze of Glory.

Mark: Good lord what a spear!

The spear connects with enough force to put Too Magnificent down, sprawled across his back and not moving, all the fight taken out of him. Christian shoves Too Magnificent out of the way, not caring about eliminating the Motherfuckers of America, his only concern is pinning Johnny Kingdom. He crawls into the lateral press and hooks both legs, his eyes twinkling, his teeth smiling, realizing he’s on the verge of reclaiming the World Heavyweight Title.

The official’s hand slaps the canvas to validate all his manipulating and planning.

The fans are repulsed, looking for waste baskets to spew into at the sight of Christian reclaiming the World Heavy….NO….Johnny kicked out, keeping his title in his possession.

Comeau: Kick out by Kingdom. The title is still his to defend.

Christian is almost ripping his hair out, looking as if he’s missed a few doses of his antipsychotic.

Mark: What an elimination match we are witnessing between six of the greatest superstars in IWC history. You can’t ask for anything better than this.

On the outside of the ring Simon is back to his feet and is ushering the crowd aside, demanding they clear out of his way. They step back just as Cagero leaps to the barricade and runs along it, nearing the end and preparing for a dive onto the rising AWOL.

He takes the last few steps before the fateful dive when AWOL suddenly lunges forward and kicks the barricade with all his strength. The rattle the kick creates causes Simon to loose his footing and crotch himself across the top of the barricade. The fans groan, every man feeling sympathy pains.

Comeau: I really, really hope Simon was wearing a cup.

Even though Simon tumbles off of the barricade gripping at his busted testicles AWOL is not satisfied, NOT ONE BIT. He begins to move in for the kill when he’s clotheslined to the back of the head by a discombobulated Too Magnificent. After rolling out of the ring Too Magnificent swung on the first person he saw, bringing AWOL down to a knee.

Meanwhile, inside of the squared circle Christian has grabbed Johnny by the jaw and is pulling him up to his knees. Discouraging comments are shouted into the Team Leader’s ear.

Christian: After tonight your going to be just an afterthought. I’m going to take your title and your career.

The sad thing is Christian now has the power to back up his claims. His eyes quickly turn towards Porno Lad who is re-entering the ring and trying to recuperate from the belly to belly slam he took just a few moments ago.

Savior: You know what to do. It’s time to REALLY live up to your side of the bargain you creepy little shit.

Porno Lad sighs, trying to remember why he agreed to work with Christian. When he closes his eyes he gets brief flashes, troubling thoughts of what Mr. X could be doing to Susie backstage. Therefore he gulps, swallowing what remained of his pride. He now lifts his palm and slaps his knee, an act that would normally be met with overwhelming applause from the crowd. This time his gesture is heckled and booed, the crowd realizing that Porno Lad is going to hit the Epic Fail and secure the World Heavyweight Championship for Christian.

Mark: I guess the plan that Christian had laid out several months ago is finally going to pan out here tonight.

The fans are disgusted at the thought of Christian winning the title in such a cutthroat manner, but all Savior can think about is wearing the belt around his waist. It’s haunted him night and day for six months and now the nightmare is going to end.

He pulls Johnny up to his knees by hooking his arms behind his back, beginning to stand him up and position him for the move that will no doubt end his World Title reign.

Mark: I would hate to see Kingdom’s title reign end like this. Not like this dammit.

Porno Lad is just about to truly sell his soul to the devil, stepping forward and starting his swing when the titantron comes to life.

Katie: Your not going anyplace buddy, not with our captive.

Porno Lad stops in mid-kick, his eyes focusing on the big screen where images are being fed from the parking lot. It’s in the parking structure that Mr. X is trying to close the trunk of his car and seal Susie Moore inside. She plays with a rubix cube, blissfully unaware that Mr. X is about to take off with her.

Mark: Something going down backstage once again. Just once, ONCE, I’d like for something NOT to be going down back there.

Porno Lad’s eyes are glued to the latest developments even as Christian persistently orders him to deliver the kick already. The prankster finds it odd that Savior claimed he was going to return Susie to him yet his associate is trying to leave the building with the ditzy commentator.

As Katie Steward and Katelyn Parkwood slowly approach Mr. X, determined to retake possession of Susie, the masked figure puts up his fists and starts swinging. He keeps them both at arms distance, Steward and Parkwood holding up their palms defensively.

Katie: This isn’t part of the deal.

Katelyn: We’re all supposed to be working together.

Mr. X keeps swinging every time they take a step forward. The distraction proves costly, allowing Robin and Paris to discreetly sneak up behind Mr. X, open the trunk and pull Susie out.

Mark: Now the Brat Pack is taking off with Susie Moore yet again. Why are these two playing hot potato with my broadcast colleague? I think I’ve used the words broadcast colleague more times tonight than in my entire life.

Mr. X has no idea that behind his back Susie is being dragged away by Robin and Paris. Moore has no idea what’s going on either, still trying to grapple with the complexities of the Rubix cube. One individual who is aware of what’s happening is Porno Lad, everything suddenly becoming crystal clear to him.

For Christian the fix is in, he obviously had NO intention of living up to his end of the bargain.

Savior: Pay no attention to what’s happening back there….

Christian tries his best to continue manipulating Porno Lad.

Savior: This is your chance to pin the World Champion, so do it!

The Rising Phoenix tugs upward on the motionless Kingdom, still trying to get him into position. All the while Porno Lad stands back and thinks, contemplating what he values more, vengeance or fame. He makes up his mind and swings his foot through the air, delivering the Epic Fail right into Savior’s face. The blow knocks Christian to the canvas while the crowd erupts into an orgasmic wave of elation.

Mark: Christian tasting the Epic Fail! That’s right Porno Lad, you made the right decision for once in your life.

Porno Lad spits down onto the unconscious body of Christian Savior, which now has Kingdom draped on top of him.

The official slides in and makes the count while Porno Lad nonchalantly vacates the ring. He lifts not one finger to prevent Christian’s elimination, keeping his eyes forward as he moves up the ramp to the backstage area.

Mark: Christian about to be eliminated for the second time tonight, and I couldn’t be any happier if Meagan Fox were giving me a lap dance right now.

The referee’s hand slaps the canvas and the crowd counts along.

The reaction shakes the entire New Alhambra arena, everyone jacked up at the sight of…..wait….scratch that…Savior’s arm shot from the canvas one tenth of a second before the hand could meet the canvas for a third time. The fans are speechless.

Comeau: Wha….wha….WHAT? Christian kicks out even after taking the Epic Fail? I want to know what this guy was injected with and I want to know right now.

Kingdom sits up, looking as if the lights are on but nobody is home inside of his aching head. On the outside of the ring AWOL has turned the tables on Too Magnificent, chopping and punching him as the two step across the mats. Simon then rushes up behind AWOL and drops into a shoulder block to the back of the knee, bringing AWOL down to one leg.

Mark: Chop block bringing AWOL down to size. There’s only so long he can keep fighting two men at once.

On the inside of the squared circle Kingdom is taking it to Christian. He props him on his feet and begins blasting him across the face with right after right, the blows knocking him backwards in the direction of a turnbuckle. Finally Savior regains some of his mental faculties and reaches out, digging his fingers into Johnny’s eyes. He rakes them violently, causing Kingdom to become blinded as a result.

Savior takes him by the back of the head and throws him forward into the turnbuckle. The momentum sends Johnny twisting so that he hits the corner spine first, his eyes glazed over at this point.

Christian backs to the center of the ring and begins to build momentum. He comes charging in at Kingdom with a full head of steam only to have Johnny bend down, catch the inbound Savior and back drop him over the ropes to the outside of the ring. Savior goes crashing to the mats with significant force, enough to cause enough damage to leave him momentarily incapacitated.

Mark: Kingdom sparing himself from whatever Christian had planned, but he needs to…. WATCH OUT!

What Kingdom didn’t know will hurt him. Cagero is back in the ring and barreling across it before throwing himself into the air and landing seat first right on Johnny’s chest. He sits on the World Champion’s sternum with his legs dangling over the top rope. His fists begin to drill Kingdom to the face one after another, the blows badly shaking up the Team Leader’s already traumatized brain.

Just as Simon begins to build some momentum with these right hands, Christian leaps to the apron then springs to the ropes beside him. He lunges into the air, twisting his body and landing on top of Simon’s shoulders before pulling him off of the turnbuckle into a reverse hurricarana. Cagero is sent crashing right on top of his head then flipping backwards across the canvas.

Fans: HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT!!

Mark: That was AMAZING.

Cagero sits up on the canvas looking absolutely spent, as if his brain is an alternate universe right now and all that is left in his head is a useless mass of tissue. Christian sluggishly begins to will himself up to his feet, standing just as Kingdom comes twirling out of the turnbuckle into the roaring elbow.

It connects straight to Christian’s temple but does not take him down. Christian staggers around, on the verge of timbering but somehow remaining upright. He’s on his feet just long enough for Kingdom to go for a second roaring elbow this one ducked and avoided.

Christian rushes at the ropes and leaps to the middle one, springing off and twisting in mid-air. He comes down towards Kingdom who shoots his boot into the air, connecting straight against Savior’s ribs and doubling him over. Johnny places him in a front chancery, hoists Christian into the air and drops him on top if his head with the Exodus Finale.

Mark: Christian now SPIKED on his head. Exodus Finale baby!

Although he delivered the move that may have spelt the end of Christian’s World Title ambitions, Johnny is too exhausted to make the cover. Instead AWOL slides under the ropes and crawls onto Christian, hooking both legs with the fans crying out with exasperated voices.

The arena erupts after they confirm that Christian has indeed been eliminated this time. AWOL sits up and looks rather apathetic even though he and Kingdom have just won the IWC World Tag Team Titles, and the Big Crazy Bastard is now the Cart…..ummm, nevermind. While the official does bring AWOL one half of the Tag belts he neglects to offer up the Cartel Title considering that Savior wasn’t the person who “legally” pinned Psycho for it earlier.

Mark: Christian is gone, he’s eliminated, hallelujah! The Empire has just won themselves the World Tag Team Titles, but from what I can see, the official isn’t handing over the Cartel Championship, I assume because Porno Lad was the one who legally pinned Psycho to win it not Christian. Hmmm, I’m still waiting for Axl to chime in with another shot at my overstating of the obvious.

AWOL has got the pin but he doesn’t have much time to celebrate. His ankle is grabbed and he is now dragged out of the ring, landing on his feet mere inches from Too Magnificent. The Golden Goliath closes the gap and grabs AWOL’s throat, goozling him then hoisting the big man into the air before throwing the Crazy Bastard spine first into the apron.

Mark: A chokeslam variation straight into the apron, that may have just shattered AWOL’s spinal column completely.

Kingdom, soaked in a bucket of his own sweat, ascends to his feet just as Cagero wobbles in his general direction. Johnny hoists Simon into the air and drops him crotch first on his raised knee, Simon leaping back and reaching for his already sore testicles. With hands down on his privates he’s got nothing to protect his face from Kingdom’s closed fist. The blow knocks him to the canvas and he quickly scrambles back up to his feet only to walk into yet another right hand.

He’s down and hurting while Johnny builds some real momentum. Unlike Christian, who is still rolling towards a turnbuckle and unable to get up, Simon pops back to his feet and walks into the very move that sealed Savior’s fate. A boot to the ribs has Cagero doubled over and being placed in the front chancery.

Mark: This is it, this is the match ender and the show stopper.

The fans froth at the mouth as they watch Kingdom hoist Simon into the air only to have him counter with a knee to the top of the champion’s skull. Johnny drops Cagero to his feet and Simon charges forward to take advantage of his prone opponent.

Kingdom was playing possum however, Simon running right into a tooth shattering roaring elbow that knocks him straight off of his feet. Too Magnificent spots his partner go down and promptly leaps to the apron, trying to get inside and save him from the pinfall. Johnny drops into the lateral press just as Too Magnificent puts a foot through the ropes and into the ring. He tries to swing his other leg through only to find his ankle clasped in the clutches of the Big Crazy Bastard.

NO! Simon’s shoulder springs from the ring and keeps his team alive.

Mark: Roaring elbow almost finishing Simon off. We’ve seen that move from Kingdom before and it has spelt death for many an opponent. It’s already a guarantee that Johnny and AWOL will leave here with the Tag Team Titles, but now it’s his World Championship he has to be the most concerned with.

Kingdom slowly rises to his feet and is now in the process of slipping his elbow pad down off of his arm. He tosses it into the crowd and begins to wind up his arm, all precursors to one of the most deadly, stiff lariats known to man.

The realization that Johnny is about to behead his partner makes Too Magnificent try to re-enter the ring all the more urgently. He steps back onto the apron and tries to stomp down at AWOL’s hands that have snatched him by the ankle. Unfortunately AWOL has contradictory plans as he yanks Too Magnificent’s foot out from under him and sends the big man flying off of the apron then plummeting spine first into the thin protective mats.

Comeau: Aaaarrrrgh, bad landing for Too Magnificent. That may have done significant damage to his internal organs.

Too Magnificent continues to arch his possibly severed spine from the mats while his partner prepares for an equally as traumatizing fate. Simon limps his way to his feet as Johnny takes off into the ropes, the crowd growing anxious in anticipation of the lariat.

He ricochets from the ropes and comes barreling back towards the prone Cagero, swinging his arm and connecting…..with nothing but air. Simon ducked the arm and dove forward, slipping over Kingdom’s hip and pulling him down into the school boy. The fans are jumping out of their seats, realizing that Simon may have snuck his way into a World Title reign.

Just before Simon can bask in the adulation of the crowd, Kingdom kicks out and drops to his knees. Although his hopes were dashed Cagero quickly rises to his feet and charges at Johnny. The World Champion does the same but deviates slightly by charging forward and putting all his power behind a lariat to Simon’s throat.

Mark: That homicidal clothesline from Kingdom connects!

Cagero back flips after being hit with the move, his body crashing into the canvas before flopping to its back. Johnny quickly crawls into the lateral press, forearm wedged to Simon’s face for good measure.

The fans are just about to shower Kingdom with their praises before the shower becomes ice cold. Simon kicks out AGAIN.

Comeau: Now it’s Simon who has gotten his shoulder up as this battle continues to go back and forth.

Mark’s horse voice shows just how tired he is, but even he isn’t anywhere near as exhausted as the competitors in the ring, or outside of it. AWOL has taken Too Magnificent by the wrist and is firing him like a cannonball into the barricade. The giant creams the steel and almost spills over, somehow remaining upright despite the trauma the collision has done to his body.

AWOL has malicious intentions as he barrels towards Too Magnificent who suddenly leaps away from the barrier and dropkicks the inbound shin of his opponent. AWOL is launched forward, crashing throat and chin first into the top edge of the barrier.

Comeau: Nnnnnnnnaaaaaasty collision with the barrier. That may have opened AWOL up.

Too Magnificent sits up on the mats, looking very proud of himself, content with the damage that last move inflicted. AWOL actually looks shaken by the impact, his jaw possibly knocked out of alignment by the tumble. Another person in need of jaw restructuring is Cagero, who looks like a reanimated zombie springing forth from his grave.

He slowly ascends to his feet just as Kingdom grabs him by the back of the head and charges him across the ring. Simon’s face is driven into the top turnbuckle pad, his body flying back from the collision and twisting in mid-air. He lands on his back and writhes in pain while Johnny slips through the ropes and begins to ascend the turnbuckle.

Mark: Kingdom could be setting up for that 450 splash that we’ve seen him end many a match with.

To chants of his name Kingdom gets closer and closer to the top, about to put on a show of aerial daredevilry.

Comeau: This is going to put Cagero down and out FOR GOOD. It has to.

Johnny has put both feet beneath him, he’s steadied himself and he’s ready to go airborne when what should he see from the corner of his eye, but Christian Savior. The Rising Phoenix is charging in to disrupt the proceedings. Kingdom leaps from the turnbuckle and lands on his feet just in time to block a right hand from Christian and drill him to the jaw.

Mark: Dammit, I should have realized that Savior never left the ringside area. When is this guy going to learn?

The referee has no basis to throw this match out as Christian never touched Kingdom, in fact it’s Savior who is eating right hands from a vengeful Team Leader.

Comeau: Get him Johnny, teach this no good son of a bitch a lesson.

Kingdom ends his barrage with one final blow to the jaw that sends Christian back down to the canvas. He then turns around and walks right into the Break the Silence. Kingdom’s face is crushed against the ring and his body flops to its back, the fans squealing at the sight of Simon utilizing his finisher, a finisher that has yet to be kicked out of.

Mark: He ran right into the Break the Silence! New World Champion, new World Champ!

Simon in his dazed and incoherent condition takes a little longer than usual to make the cover, the crowd split, some imploring him to move faster while others chant Johnny’s name in the hopes it will resurrect him. The referee drops and the crowd watches from the edges of their seats as he slaps the ring.

Simon is the NEW…noooo, Johnny kicked out to a chaotic reaction from the Philly crowd.

Comeau: I’m in shock ladies and gentlemen, absolute nipple tingling shock here. Johnny the first person to kick out of the Break the Silence since Simon returned several months ago. This is just…..wow.

With a river of sweat streaming down his face Simon sits in disbelief, realizing that he just came so close, so veeeeerry close to winning the World title only to see it slip through his fingers right at the end.

Too Magnificent slides into the ring and decides to help Cagero dispatch Johnny with a little less effort. He steps in and grabs Johnny around the waist, hoisting him up into a bearhug submission. Too Magnificent crouches and exposes the unconscious Kingdom’s face over his shoulder.

Simon, who slowly recuperates, reaches his feet then leaps to the cables behind his partner, hoping to spring off and hit some type of tandem move to Johnny’s exposed face. However, as soon as he lands on the middle rope AWOL delivers an uppercut shot to his jaw from the apron.

Cagero crashes from the ropes and to the canvas while Kingdom begins to back elbow Too Magnificent to his skull, trying to fight out of the hold. The blows Too Magnificent has received throughout this match weakens his grasp and causes him to release Kingdom. The Team Leader falls to his feet and grabs the hair of the Golden One. He utilizes what’s left of his strength to pull Too Magnificent’s head under his seat and pin both of his arms to the sides of his knees.

Mark: Ooooooh my.

Kingdom hoists Too Magnificent into the air and begins to drop for the package piledriver. That’s when AWOL steps in, grabs Too Mag’s shins and assists in pushing him down skull first into the canvas. The package piledriver is delivered with enough force to send Too Magnificent’s body springing from the canvas into the air.

Comeau: A very nice tag team move which may have done it ladies and gentlemen, it may have just ended what has been an amazing gauntlet.

The crowd who has been caught like a piece of drift wood in an ever turbulent sea watches this action with baited breaths, not wanting to get their hopes up yet again. AWOL falls back into the ropes after assisting his partner, trying to get his breathing under control, a large bruise forming around his larynx, his throat possibly closing up on him.

Kingdom is just as riddled with injuries, so much in fact he can barely work up the strength to sit up, let alone go for the cover. Too Magnificent finds himself fortunate to roll under the ropes and spill to the outside mats, getting out of pinning position.

Mark: Nice display of veteran instincts by Too Magnificent, keeping himself out of the ring so that he cannot be pinned. Although the outside of the ring hasn’t been a safety zone throughout this match….and here comes two men to demonstrate my point. Get them out of here ref.

Psycho and Riggs rush to the ringside area and begin to clobber Too Magnificent with forearms before he knows what’s going on.

Comeau: The new X-Class Champion Riggs and the former Cartel Champion Too Magnificent are ambushing Too Magnificent yet again. Get your thumb out of your ass ref!

The official may not realize what’s happening as he checks on Johnny’s condition, but AWOL sure does. In a huff he slips through the ropes and drops to the mats, physically throwing Psycho and Riggs away from the wounded Too Magnificent.

AWOL: What the fuck are you two doing!?!

Now that they’ve upset the Big Crazy Bastard, Riggs and Psycho back away, palms held in the air signifying that they won’t a fight.

Psycho: We were just trying to help.

AWOL is livid at the notion that he needed assistance, provoking a very visceral reaction from him. He begins to move towards both his former protégés who continue backing up. In the meanwhile, inside of the squared circle Johnny just begins to reach his feet as Cagero stands up in front of him on the opposite side of the ropes.

Simon springs to the top cable and comes flying off, with an extension of his legs he drops on top of Kingdom’s shoulders then falls back, going for the hurricarana. Johnny counters though and rolls through, putting Simon in a sunset flip style pin, his shoulders wedged to the creases of Cagero’s knees. Simon tries to wiggle free while the crowd counts along to the slaps of the canvas.

NOOO! Simon’s shoulder shot from the canvas just seconds before the three.

He falls to his side and races Kingdom to his feet. The moment he gets up and throws a punch Johnny side steps his arm and grabs hold of it, trying to force him down into the crossface.

Mark: Crossface about to be applied, Kingdom moments from locking in the Lesson in Leadership.

Simon summons forth inhuman strength to yank his arm out of Johnny’s grasp and then spin around into own roaring elbow. Kingdom turns just in time to duck the inbound elbow then connect with a step up enzugari to the back of Simon’s head. The kick is so stiff it sends Cagero traveling forward into the turnbuckle, falling against it chest first for support.

Comeau: This is just what Simon doesn’t want, Kingdom is building all kinds of moment.

The official has finally taken notice of the scuffle outside of the ring, sticking his head through the ropes and imploring both Psycho and Riggs to go backstage. Neither man puts up an argument as they continue to back away from the Big Crazy Bastard and move towards the subway car doors.

Throughout this commotion Kingdom has backed into a turnbuckle diagonal to the one that Simon is trapped in. He slaps his forearm and overlooks the crowd, who once again find themselves hanging on his every gesture, his every mannerism, his every move.

He charges across the ring to utilize his stiff forearm and pick up the win when he’s cut off at the half way point by a Christian Savior spear. The force of the Blaze of Glory takes Johnny off of his feet and sends him crashing to the canvas. Savior bounces off of Kingdom’s ribs and grabs at his shoulder, convulsing in just as much pain as the World Champion. The fans are so livid they do find something to pelt Christian with, their furious verbal jabs and a few pieces of garbage.

Mark: Johnny had this match in the bag but then he was ripped in two by the spear. Damn that Christian Savior, damn him straight to HELL!

AWOL and the ref are both blissfully unaware of what is happening in the ring, having no idea that Kingdom was just laid out by the spear. Savior continues to grip at his shoulder, possibly having shattered his clavicle after spearing Johnny with such rib cracking force.

Despite the sheer force of the spear Kingdom is already trying to get up only to have Too Magnificent swoop in behind him. He grabs both of Johnny’s legs and wraps them around his waist before heaving him up into a wheelbarrow slam position.

Kingdom arches his back and finds his spine wedged to Too Magnificent’s upper pectoral region. This is just as Simon looks over his shoulder, spotting Johnny’s predicament, prompting him to leap to the middle rope of the turnbuckle and jump off. He flies through the air and catches Kingdom around the neck, pulling him down from the wheelbarrow and out of Too Magnificent’s clutches into a modified Break the Silence.

Mark: OOOOH!

Johnny’s face is almost shattered as it ricochets from the ring and his body flops to its back. An exasperated Simon realizes this is it, that he’ll have no greater opportunity. He climbs into the lateral press and Too Magnificent wedges both hands to his partner’s upper back, gutting more pressure on the World Champion.

Wright spins around after hearing the screams of the crowd and spots the cover, sliding into position.

AWOL detects the sound of a hand meeting canvas. He spins away from his protégé’s and frantically bolts for the ring to break up the count.

Johnny tries to find the strength to kick out his subdued condition as AWOL leaps to the apron and dives through the ropes.

Kingdom kicks out and AWOL breaks the pin a fraction of a second too late.

Comeau: Oh….oh….oh my god, oh my god, OH MY GAWD! New Champion, new World Champion!!

The New Alhambra arena is shaking, the fans literally floored by what they just witnessed as Simon Cagero has pinned the World Heavyweight Champion.

Mark: This is unbelievable, what an upset, what a HUGE upset.

As Simon comes up out of the dog pile with his fist raised into the air the crowd snaps out of their shock and responds with a riveting ovation. Nobody had truly suspected to see the World Title change hands, viewing this as nothing short of a miracle. Simon barely has the strength to stand as Too Magnificent goes absolutely nuts, hopping all around and wrapping his arms around Cagero’s waist. He tosses Simon around like a rag doll, absolutely ecstatic for his partner.

Comeau: Words cannot possibly describe what I am feeling watching this. I’m sure everyone in this building, everyone watching in the back, everyone watching at home feels the same way. We have crowned a new World Heavyweight Champion, and his name is Simon Cagero.

Simon is almost in the same state of petrified shock as AWOL, who can’t bring himself to so much as blink as the World Title is handed into Cagero’s palms. Simon stares down at the belt, looking as if he’s hyperventilating, going ghost white once he sees his reflection in the polished golden surface.

Too Magnificent helps him celebrate by heaving his partner up onto his shoulders. Once he has Simon positioned Too Magnificent takes a victory lap around the ring with Simon held up high. Tears are almost seen forming under Cagero’s eyes as the cherished World Championship hangs from his grasp, blowing in the wind.

Mark: So many title changes here tonight but none as big as this. In the closing moments of this match Johnny Kingdom looked like he was going to put the nail in Simon’s coffin before he was nailed with the spear out of nowhere by Savior. Too Magnificent and Cagero took advantage and now Simon is your NEW World Heavyweight Champion. What a surprising, what a gripping end to this fantastic pay-per-view.

Johnny rolls to his side, realizing that although he got his shoulder up, it was too late to save his World Title. He looks absolutely lost, so shocked words are hard pressed to form at his lips or his brain. AWOL has no idea how to console him, still reeling from the shock of this loss.

Cagero has dropped from Too Magnificent’s shoulders and he now skidding across his knees on the canvas. Once he reaches the ropes he uses them to stand then jump into the air, thrusting the World Title belt into the air repeatedly above his head. He doesn’t see Savior stumbling up the ramp at side, laughing to himself and mouthing some familiar words, “you owe me…..again.”

Mark: On a night where Riggs was crowned X-Class Champion, Christian Savior was crowned Cartel Champion, the Empire were crowned the Tag Team Champions, and Jackson Adams took hold of the Submission Title, Simon Cagero stands before you as your new World Title holder. We thought we had seen his participation in this match put to an abrupt end earlier tonight, but he surprised us all by coming back out here and scoring the biggest pinfall of his career.

The pandemonium continues as Simon drops to his knees in the center of the ring and cradles the World Title to his chest. Too Magnificent pats him on the shoulders and congratulates him for this career defining victory.

Mark: So many questions left unanswered. Is Porno Lad still co-Submission Champion now that Adams has won the belt, how will Kingdom respond to losing the title, what is AWOL going to do to his protégés for distracting him, what happened to Susie Moore? Thank you ladies and gentlemen for joining us on what has been one of the biggest nights in IWC history.

The Overbooked Extravaganza ends with the sight of Too Magnificent holding Simon’s wrist up high and pointing to the newly anointed World Heavyweight Champion.