COMMERCIAL BREAK

The Definition of Wrestling

THE LONGEST MATCH

Mark: And the action CONTINUING!

The show returns in the midst of chaos, Christian Savior staggering down the ramp with punch after punch connecting across his jaw. Porno Lad lands each blow with a look of delight on his face, his body still adorned in tight black pants and tap shoes. Referee Harris follows along behind, having no idea what to do, or why he was even dragged along by Porno Lad to take part in this madness.

Comeau: The Hardcore Match that was started two weeks ago is STILL going. Porno Lad refusing to let this go until he pins Savior.

Moore: I wouldn’t let it go either. In fact, I don’t let anything involving Porno Lad go, especially if it were his pe….

Mark: Nuh-nuh-nuh…

Obviously Christian is still reeling, having been caught off guard by the initial attack and unable to get himself into the fight ever since. Another jab connects under his jaw and knocks him into the apron. He leans on it for support, catching his breathe while Porno Lad comes barreling towards him.

Savior bends down and catches the inbound Porno Lad, trying to back drop him onto the apron. However, Porno Lad does a headstand on top of the apron, the back of his legs hitting the ropes. As Savior turns around, Porno Lad falls from the apron, landing shins first on Christian’s shoulders and pulling him around into a big head scissors.

Comeau: Spectacular move by Porno Lad. This guy has such phenomenal agility.

Moore: He’s just like a gymnast, only he’s actually eaten enough to go through puberty.

The wide eyed Rising Phoenix finds himself sprawled across the mats, unable to figure out where he is, let alone how to stop the onslaught of the N.H.B Champion. Porno Lad steps in, takes Savior around the back of the head and rolls him into the ring under the ropes. He now grabs the tarp hanging from the apron and throws it up into the air, reaching under the ring to retrieve a trash can.

He lifts it up into the air, placing it on the apron and trying to push it into the ring. Christian puts a stop to that plan though, rushing across the ring and dropping into a baseball slide dropkick. Both boots nail the can and knock it backwards into PL’s sternum.

The blow sends Porno Lad tumbling to the mats, rolling back and landing on his knees. His arms cross over his sternum, which may have been broken by the collision. A grin begins to surface on Savior’s face, proud that he’s finally put an end to the offensive campaign that Porno Lad was waging uncontested against him.

Mark: That trash-can dropkicked straight into Porno’s chest. Who knows how much damage that may have done? I still can’t believe we’re seeing a continuation of last week’s hardcore bout.

Moore: Hopefully we don’t get another cliffhanger ending.

With his chest enflamed by pain Porno Lad starts to stand, eyes locking on the malicious Savior. Christian starts to slip through the ropes when PL suddenly charges at the apron, lunges onto it and then delivers a jumping knee strike directly to his rival’s face.

The collision knocks Savior backwards through the ropes and towards the center of the ring.

Mark: Porno Lad again nailing a very athletic move. He has just got Savior reeling from this attack.

A dazed and confused Christian struggles to his feet, knocked completely off kilter. He just reaches his feet when Porno Lad springs off the top rope and comes flying across the ring into a big lariat. The blow connects and takes Savior down to the canvas while Porno Lad lands gracefully on his feet.

As the crowd chants his name, Porno Lad stomps his foot to the canvas, waiting eagerly for his opponent to stand. Instead of getting to his feet, Savior rolls across the ring, spilling under the ropes to the safety of the outside mats. He deprives Porno Lad the honor of hitting him with the Epic Fail, stumbling into the barricade which he leans on for support.

Comeau: Savior wisely clearing out of the ring before the Epic Fail could be delivered.

Susie: yeah, I guess Christian is pretty wise, he still doesn’t look good in striped shirts though.

Porno Lad changes up his gameplan, rushing backwards into the ropes and bouncing off. Obviously he’s about to unleash a big, death defying dive only for him to be cut off by a forearm to the temple. The blow knocks him to the canvas as Jackson Adams and Hurse pounce on the wounded prankster.

Comeau: HEY! Porno Lad attacked from out of nowhere by Jackson Adams and Hurse for the second week in a row.

Moore: Maybe they came out of that same dimension that Carol Anne got lost in.

Mark: Poltergeist references are so out of date.

The fans jump on Adams and Hurse just like the pear did to Porno Lad. There’s only one exception, while the fans pounce on this duo with words, the Master of Control and his egotistical ally assault Porno Lad with fists and boots. Jackson quickly grabs Porno Lad’s arms, pinning them behind his back while Hurse unloads on the prone features of his long time rival. As the action escalates in the ring, outside of it Christian is making a hasty retreat.

He steps to the edge of the ramp, glaring into the ring with fiery eyes but realizing he has bigger matters to attend to than Porno Lad’s insatiable need to embarrass him. He back peddles up the ramp smiling arrogantly, as if he were the mastermind behind all of this. The smile fades the moment that Katetlyn Buehler pushes past him, rushing down the ramp in a hurry.

Susie: Hi KATELYN! I would call her Katie, but then Katie Steward might sue me.

Mark: Yes, and we definitely don’t need another lawsuit. Are we just watching a repeat of what happened last week?

Moore: At least I’ll know everything that’s gonna happen, that way I won’t wet myself with excitement.

Katelyn stops at ringside, hopping about and screaming into the ring. She cups her hands together, praying for Hurse and Adams to stop this madness, to spare her ex from further punishment. These pleas only entice Adams to throw more punches, harder punches, punches that could shatter a jaw, punches that could break a cheek bone.

Comeau: Buehler’s cries falling on deaf ears.

Susie: Maybe she should scream louder then.

Mark: I don’t think you understand the concept of deaf.

Moore: I thought it meant that something was really, really cool.

While Adams is driven to inflict greater punishment, Hurse lowers his fists and abandons the ring. Buehler’s eyes light up, Hurse actually listening to her for a change. Just as she begins to wonder what else she can command him to do, Hurse derails her train of thought by scooping her up onto his shoulder. Katelyn finds herself so confused she could pop a blood vessel.

Hurse turns to the ring, looking at Adams who has his hands around Porno Lad’s throat.

Hurse: Finish him off.

Katelyn: No, NO! Put me down! Put an end to this.

Once again her pleas go unheard, Hurse focused on carrying Katelyn to the back, leaving PL at the mercy of the X-Class Champion. Jackson waves goodbye to Katelyn, going as far as to blow her a kiss before grating the heel of his boot right against the N.H.B Champion’s eye. Buehler now furiously writhes in the arms of her husband, determined to get her hands on JA and stop him from disfiguring the N.H.B Champion.

Mark: Hurse carting Buehler to the back, and now Adams has been left to perhaps cripple Porno Lad.

Moore: Oh no, if he’s crippled that’s it. I’m not dating a vegetable. I’m not even allowed to eat one.

Jackson turns around and stares at referee Harris, the scab official cowering in a corner. He has no idea what to think of this madness before Adams demands he call for a bell and start his match against Porno Lad. The replacement referee is easily intimidated, prompting him to motion for the bell.

PORNO LAD VS. JACKSON ADAMS

Comeau: Why this scab referee is letting this match begin after Porno Lad was just assaulted is beyond me. All this does is give Jackson Adams a big leg up.

Moore: He probably needs it so he’ll be tall enough to board that roller coaster.

Mark: Well regardless of the controversy we’re getting champion versus champion right now, live on Riot!

Porno Lad struggles valiantly to achieve an upright base before Adams boots him to the temple, knocking him down to the canvas. The mischievous one desperately gets back to a knee when Jackson comes barreling in and delivers another high impact boot this one connecting straight to the temple.

The blow sends Porno Lad spiraling through the ropes and crashing across the outside mats.

Comeau: This battle spilling to the outside of the ring at this point on what has already been a wild night of in ring action.

Jackson steps towards a turnbuckle and starts up it, reaching the top rope while Porno Lad struggles to stand on the outside. The moment that the N.H.B Champion is on his feet, Jackson comes flying off the top rope and crashing down into him with a big splash. Both men crumble to the mats, but while Adams gently lands on his knees, the prankster tumbles with a hard thud against the thin protective matting.

Mark: Ohhh, and Adams taking flight. He’s taking full advantage of the injuries inflicted on Porno Lad before this match could begin.

Moore: And I’m taking full advantage of this shoe horn that Porno Lad got me. I’m not sure what it’s used for, I just know it’s shinny, and it tastes funny.

Comeau: He bought you a shoe horn? A shoe horn?

Susie: Yep, romantic ain’t it?

Porno Lad is led to his feet and nailed violently across the sternum with a knife edge chop. The N.H.B Champ falls back first against the barrier, using it for a support as Adams swoops in, takes him under the thigh and by the throat, hoists him into the air and drops him chest first across the top of the barricade.

The collision knocks him to his back while Adams slaps his chest with both palms and gives the crowd a big “up yours” taunt. He wastes little time bullying the audience before stepping in, taking the bangs of his wounded prey and dragging him towards the ring. Porno Lad is rolled in under the ropes while JA lunges to the apron and grabs the top rope.

He anxious pivots between feet, waiting to go for a big springboard move. The anticipation builds as Porno Lad sluggishly ascends to his feet. Just as he stands, Adams comes flying off the top rope, looking to eliminate the Nude Hot Babes Champion. That’s when Porno Lad lunges from his feet and connects with a dropkick on the inbound holder of the X-Class gold.

Comeau: Big counter! Exactly what Porno Lad needed to get himself back into this battle.

All the air has been compressed from Adams’ lungs, leaving him huffing and wheezing on the canvas. He begins to stand up while Porno Lad rushes into the cables in front of him, bounces off and comes flying in with a big forearm smash. The blow knocks both men to the ring, Porno Lad rolling across it to his feet as he builds momentum.

Jackson stands up now just as Porno Lad once again bounces from the cables and flies forward into a twisting European Uppercut. The blow nails Jackson straight under the jaw, lifting him from his feet and taking him back down to the ring.

Mark: Some wind beneath the sails of Porno Lad now.

Moore: Awww. He’s my inspiration. You are the wind beneath my wings.

Comeau: If you sing one more time I’ll sue you for assault.

Porno Lad is up and feeding off of the raw emotion provided by a jacked audience. He spins in the direction of a reeling Adams, who once again is trying to stand. He moves in and delivers a boot to Adams’ ribs then whips him off into the ropes. Jackson bounces from the cables while the N.H.B title holder bends forward, looking for the back drop.

Unfortunately he set too early, Jackson side stepping him, hooking his leg and then dropping back into a Russian Leg sweep. Porno Lad is planted hard spine first into the ring while Jackson floats over into the lateral press.

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Referee Harris’ count just wasn’t fast enough, providing Porno Lad ample time to kick out.

Comeau: Jackson going for the first pinning attempt in this match but it was not to be.

Moore: When you have hair like Porno Lad’s, it makes you impervious to pins. Which is why I had my hair styled just like his.

His spine is throbbing but Porno Lad starts to stand regardless. He’s just risen to a knee when Jackson rushes in behind him, grabs the back of his head and pulls him down face first into the canvas with a one handed bulldog. Adams rolls to his feet and doubles over the downed prankster, shouting into his face.

Jackson: Remind you of anybody. Hahaha.

Adams now jumps over Porno Lad and charges at the cables. He springs to the middle rope then flips backwards into a moonsault that connects. He hooks his opponent’s leg with the fans on their feet, chiming in.

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The ever so pompous Porno Lad launches a shoulder from the canvas, avoiding defeat.

Mark: Another kick out by Porno Lad, keeping himself alive in this match.

Susie: And he didn’t even need a defibulator . I’m not allowed to play with those anymore, not sense the brain damage.

Comeau: I’m literally not surprised in the slightest.

Adams is so angered he looks like an inebriate, taking PL by the bangs and unleashing blows on his forehead. Punch after punch is delivered, a knot almost opening on his rival’s face. Finally he pushes Porno Lad to his stomach then steps over his back, pulling him up into a camel clutch.

Porno Lad begins to cry out in pain while Adams wrenches back on his jaw.

Porno Lad: Ahhhh, that had better be a roll of quarters poking the back of my head.

The comment makes Jackson all the more disgruntled, his head turning back and forth pleading with the fans not to listen to these accusations. Referee Harris is right in Porno Lad’s face, inquiring as to whether or not he wishes to tap out.

Porno Lad: No means no! But sometimes it can mean yes.

Jackson wrenches back even further on the jaw, until the neck of his victim is almost severed, leaving him incapable of making any more smart remarks. Despite the punishment, Porno Lad starts to force himself up to his feet. He gets his knees beneath him which prompts Jackson to break the camel clutch, wedge his foot to PL’s back and nail a modified curb stomp.

Porno Lad’s teeth are almost knocked out of his mouth by the face first collision against the ring. Adams is now the one starting in with some jaw jacking.

Jackson: Any smart comments now? Huh? Huh? Let’s hear ‘em!

No comments originate from the prankster, instead he lets his fists do all the talking. An uppercut connects to Jackson’s jaw, shutting his mouth and sending him staggering. A reeling Porno Lad rises to his feet and steps towards his stumbling opponent. He takes him around the back of the head and jumps into the air, looking for a jawbreaker that would permanently shut Adams up.

Unfortunately the move backfires as Adams counters with a knee strike to PL’s face. The collision knocks the champion to his back but springs to his seat, eyes as glazed as a donut. Jackson dives in with a dropkick to Porno Lad’s sternum, the blow knocking him to his back once again. Adams now slips into another lateral press, wedging his forearm to his rival’s face for good measure.

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Porno Lad shockingly kicks out before Harris’ hand can slap the canvas for a third time.

Mark: Despite some brief offensive flurries, Porno Lad has been victimized by Adams all throughout this match.

Moore: He should have a can of pepper spray and a rape whistle to keep from being a victim.

The X-Class Champion steps over the laid out Porno Lad and swipes his feet across the canvas, as if kicking up dust into his opponent’s face. After this disgraceful act he approaches a nearby turnbuckle, slipping through the ropes and starting up the corner. He reaches the top cable then flies through the air, going for a senton bomb.

The back of his skull nails Porno Lad’s ribcage, causing him to convulse across the canvas. Adams sits up on the ring for only a moment, wearing a smarmy grin then drops back and hooks a leg. Jackson is positive that victory has been achieved, hence the cockiest of pins. Harris makes the count.

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Again Porno Lad shocks the world, kicking out of another pinning predicament. Adams sits up, stewing with emotion, bitterness escalating within him.

Comeau: Another impressive move but it’s still not enough.

Moore: Nothing Jackson hits Porno Lad with will EVER be enough.

The crowd is now chanting Porno Lad’s name, trying to fire him up. This reaction gets louder as Jackson places his adversary in a sleeper hold. He pulls back on the jaw, punishing the neck of his opposition and blocking the blood flow to the brain.

He squeezes so tightly that Porno Lad’s head almost pops like a pimple. And that’s exactly what Adams considers him, a blemish on the face of the IWC roster, one that must be removed. He clamps his hands together, tightly applying the hold until brain-cells begin to die from the lack of oxygen in Porno Lad’s head.

Mark: This crowd trying to rally behind Porno Lad, attempting to get him fired up.

Moore: So their arsonists? The bastards.

The reaction gives Porno Lad just the pep he needs to sit up and begin to rock his way out of the hold. He swings his arms, trying to build momentum as he ascends closer and closer to his feet. Finally he stands up, the crowd reacting with an outburst of emotion. That’s when the quick witted Adams breaks his hold and grabs the prankster around the arms.

He pulls him around into position for the unprettier.

Mark: Adams about to finish off the prankster via an unprettier.

Susie: IMPOSSIBLE! Nothing can make Porno Lad un-pretty.

Adams turns Porno Lad around, head wedged between his shoulder blades as he prepares to drop into the move. He’s on the verge of connecting when the prankster frees his head, drops to his knees and sinks his teeth right into Adams’ bum.

Jackson unleashes a high pitched squeal as he begins to hop about, running in circles with Porno Lad still sinking his teeth into the posterior. The Shark Boy like maneuver makes Adams forget his gameplan, leaving him susceptible to Porno Lad, who takes the front of the X-Class Champ’s legs and pulls back.

Jackson falls to his stomach before pushing himself up to his elbows and knees. That’s when Porno Lad leaps into the air and delivers a double stomp to his upper back. The blow knocks Jackson down face first into the canvas, his skull bouncing hard from the ring as he pops up to his knees.

That’s when Porno Lad turns around and rushes in, connecting with a running knee strike to Adams’ face. The blow renders Jackson near unconscious as the Nude Hot Babes Champion sits beside him, starting to sweat profusely. The sweat is brushed away as Porno Lad takes the locks of his opponent’s head, pulling Jackson over to his knees and then placing him in a side headlock.

Instead of going for the pin he looks determined to punish JA, revenge for the past few weeks of attacks. He now rushes forward across the ring, dragging Adams along and then driving him across the top of his skull against the middle turnbuckle pad. Porno Lad ends up seated on the second rope while his opponent reels from the impact.

The blow causes Adams to stand upright, eyes fluttering as he tries to maintain consciousness. That’s when Porno Lad drops back, swinging his shins over the top rope right into Jackson’s face. The blow sends Adams stumbling backwards, still trying to stay upright.

Comeau: Porno Lad is really cooking now.

Susie: WHAT!?! He told me he can only make roman noodles and TV dinners. I feel so betrayed.

Porno Lad slips back into the ring and steps up behind Adams, placing him in a side headlock. He barrels across the ring, attempting to drive Jackson’s skull into the opposite turnbuckle now. This time Jackson provides a last second counter, pulling his head out of the submission and grabbing PL around the neck. He’s bridged over backwards and placed in a reverse DDT predicament.

That’s when Porno Lad pushes up with his legs, trying to flip in reverse over Adams’ shoulder. JA twists his body though, catching his opponent on his shoulders in a fireman carry. He rushes forward in order to deliver a dangerous death valley driver only for Porno Lad to slip free.

He twists around and tries for a tornado DDT counter. However, at the last moment Jackson wedges his hands to PL’s ribs and shoves him off. The Champion flies across the ring but ultimately lands on his feet just as Adams comes storming in.

Sadly for Adams, he walks right into a spinning superkick, the Epic Fail nailing Jackson directly to his skull. The blow leaves Jackson dumbfounded, his eyes fluttering before he finally collapses like a falling tree to the canvas.

Comeau: Porno Lad caught Adams with the Epic Fail!

Moore: How epic, te-he-he.

Mark: If only I had a gun with two bullets.

Porno Lad grabs the legs of Adams and flips forward into the jackknife cover. The crowd is going ballistic.

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The Manhattan Center has much cause for celebration. Their hands come together and their seats are vacated as they show their support for Porno Lad.

Comeau: Somehow Porno Lad overcoming the beat-down before the bout and connecting with the Epic Fail to emerge victorious.

Moore: Yaaay. Some give me some balloons and a piñata so that we can properly celebrate.

The sold out crowd continues to rejoice over this big win for Porno Lad, having just bested the X-Class Champion. Although he’s still hurting, Porno Lad stands up and lifts both fists into the air, showering in the applause from the crowd.

Porno Lad: Is that it? COME ON! You can be louder than that.

Porno Lad steps up the turnbuckle, gesturing for the crowd to show him even more appreciation.

Mark: Riot! keeps on rocking, Porno Lad victorious but I don’t think his issues with Hurse and Adams have yet to be settled.

Jackson is regaining consciousness, turning to his side and palming his swelling jaw. He faces the indignity of listening to the crowd chant Porno Lad’s name. Adams has no idea that Porno Lad has now rolled to the outside of the ring and is approaching the time keeper, taking not only the N.H.B Title belt, but Jackson’s X-Class gold as well, the very belt he refused to put on the line tonight.

Comeau: Uh-oh, Porno Lad’s doing it again.

Susie: And I didn’t even have to spread my le…

Mark: No, that’s not what I’m talking about. He seems to be taking off with Jackson’s X-Class Title gold after Adams refused to put it on the line against him tonight.

Jackson continues to regain his senses while Porno Lad throws both the X-Class and N.H.B Title belts over his shoulder, absolutely decked out in gold. Although feeling tired and brutalized Porno Lad sustains the weight of the heavy straps on his way to the backstage area.

Mark: History repeating itself. We saw Porno Lad high tail it with Jason Wheeler’s championship several months ago, and now he’s doing the exact same thing here tonight.

Moore: Maybe he’s going to have that belt melted down into some gold teeth.

Porno Lad walks like a man strolling through the park, moseying up the ramp and through the curtains. He doesn’t even look back at Adams, almost as if he’s committed no wrong, almost as if he actually believes himself to be the X-Class Champion.

Jackson finally sits up, chest heaving in exhaustion, body recovering from the brutality inflicted upon it. He winces as he rises to his feet, taking comfort in the fact that even though he’s lost, he still retains his X-Class Title belt. He motions for referee Harris to go and fetch his gold. The scab official scratches nervously at the back of his head while a flustered Adams grows impatient.

Jackson: Go on, go get my God damn title, arrrggh….

The pain in his jaw almost makes it impossible for him to speak, forcing him to listen to the sound of someone else’s voice for a change. Harris begins to explain what happened to the X-Class Title, that Porno Lad commandeered it. The second this news reaches his ears Adams’ forgets the pain his jaw.

Adams: WHAT!?!

Mark: I think Jackson just found out about his abducted title.

Susie: He better be ready to pay a hefty ransom.

Jackson: He took MY belt? MY belt?

Jackson’s entire body is shaking, loosing all control over his nerves. His palm slides down his cheek as he tries to maintain his composure.

Adams: Let me get this straight, you LET him take off with my belt?

All Harris can do is shrug, which does nothing to placate Jackson, therefore Adams unleashes his aggression in the form of a slap. The scab ref tumbles to his seat, holding his cheek in shock as Adams stands over him, teeth grating.

Comeau: Oh come on, come on, there’s no need for that! The ref wasn’t the one who took your title.

His skin transforms to an almost apple like red shade as Adams moves towards the ropes, presumably going after his stolen gold.

LOVE HURTS

Buehler’s beauty is beyond compare, on most occasions that is. At this present moment however, her usual powdered skin is free of make-up. Her long, straight locks are now frizzy and knotted, showing her madness. The source of her insanity is of course the man before her, the husband denying her a divorce, in the form of Hurse.

Hurse: No, I’m putting my foot down God dammit! Your not going out there.

Hurse wedges his back to the door, forcing it shut and keeping his wife from rushing to the aid of her ex. Although Porno Lad clearly doesn’t need her help, Buehler still believes that the match is going, and that given his prior condition, he is still in need of her aid.

Buehler: You can’t let this happen. He needs me, he NEEDS ME!

She desperately tries to get around him and out of the lockeroom.

Hurse: KATE….

Hurse slaps his palm over his mouth and extends the other towards his frantic bride. He tries to figure out a way to word his thoughts as delicately as possible.

Hurse: I can’t….let him….embarrass you again.

There seems to be genuine concern in Hurse’s voice, as if he actually cares whether or not Buehler makes an ass of herself.

Katelyn: I don’t care, I can’t let that goon hurt him.

She again reaches for the door only to have her hand grabbed by the former World Champion. He surrounds her quivering knuckles with both palms.

Hurse: Why do you care so much? I thought we already talked about this during the week. I told you I had a master plan and you’re seeing it come to fruition. Jackson’s gonna weaken him and then next week I’m gonna finish him off. We talked about this and you were even eager to let Adams do some damage. Are you forgetting what Porny put you through when you took that little flight to see him?

Buehler: Maybe he came to his senses. I was just angry is all, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I didn’t give him a chance to really say what he meant, maybe I just misunderstood him. BESIDES, you went back on your word too, you promised to come out there and help me against Kingdom.

Hurse: Well, I was going to, before I remembered how many times Johnny’s kicked my ass. But seriously, Porny said he was going to knock your teeth out! Why do you keep defending him?

Because… you can’t…. he’s my world….

Hurse: All he does is make a fool out of you, Kate! He treated you like a doormat, a DOORMAT, you know those smelly mats that I use to leave flaming dog pooh on. Hey, that’s a clever metaphor, or simile, or whatever. The point is he’s SHIT all over you too.

Katelyn: That happened ONCE, after we watched that German porn vide.…

Hurse: NAH, nah, nah, enough. Please don’t say anymore, I have a hyperactive gag reflex.

Buehler: So do I, which I learned after trying to fit Porno Lad’s….

Hurse: SHUSH!

A deep breathe is taken by Hurse, trying to erase the images in his head.

Hurse: The point is, he treats you like dirt, he’s ALWAYS treated you like dirt. You’ve constantly been the butt of his jokes, like you were the Kyle to his Cartmen. He used you, he made a fool of you, he’s put you through hell when all YOU ever did was love him…and have an affair with his father….which is actually really gross. That matters not, what does matter is that I’m unwilling to see you treated like a dog anymore.

He moves Katelyn’s hand to his chest, lowering his lips towards her knuckles.

Hurse: I can’t watch you be put through this. You may not care about yourself, but I….well….

He raises his eyes to stare into Buehler’s, a glimpse of rare emotion contained within his puppy dog pupils.

Hurse:….I DO care about you.

Buehler has no idea how to react, having never been in a relationship where someone cared about her instead of what she could do with her mouth.

Hurse: And I’m not gonna let Porno Lad put you into the same funk you were in last week. I’m not gonna see you in that state EVER AGAIN! And most importantly, I’m not gonna let him treat you like a looser.

There’s nothing Katelyn can say in response to this given her almost psychotic rants over the past few weeks. She is almost lost in Hurse’s gaze, watching him exit the lockeroom. He stops just before the door closes behind his back.

Hurse: Please, for your sake, not mine, have some self respect and stay in this lockeroom until I get back. If your ready to start talking seriously about our “arrangement” then you’ll be here to celebrate my Cartel Title win and the destruction of Porno Lad. WOO BABY!

Before an answer can be given the door swings shut and Buehler is left alone to contemplate. Well, alone as someone can be with a camera crew filming her.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

TNA…we’ll be missing ye very soon

ERROR REPORT

An exasperated Christian Savior showers his head with a bottle of water, Aquafina of course, as tap is just TOO ordinary to touch his precious skin. As he sits and tries to snap himself out of the daze inflicted on him by Porno Lad and Nathan Creed, he somehow still has the wherewithal to spot the inbound figure aching to take his head off.

Savior: WHOA, WHOA, WHOA!

Christian grabs the chair he was sitting on and lifts it in front of his chest as if he were staving off a ferocious lion. And that’s just what Pat Evans is, a beast ready to rip Savior’s flesh to pieces and feast on his entrails.

Evans: Give me one reason I shouldn’t shove this chain down your throat?

Pat reveals the steel wrapped around his fist, the very chain that got him disqualified earlier in the evening. With his free hand he slaps the chair out of Savior’s clutches, leaving him exposed.

Christian: Just give me a chance to explain.

Words are not what Evans wants to listen to, all he desires to hear are the sounds of Savior’s bones breaking. He reaches out for his throat, fully intent on making good on his vow to give Christian a taste of chain.

Pat: I’m through listening to you.

Savior: What if I promised you a World Title shot?

Evans stops in mid-swing, his fist tentatively lowering to his side. Savior said the magic words.

Christian: Listen, I know I fucked up earlier, but I just want you to know that my intentions were noble.

Evans: Noble intentions, NOBLE INTENTIONS!?! You cost me the God damn match.

Savior: Yeah, my bad.

The chain rises threateningly into the air once more.

Christian: Easy….

Savior steps back with open palms.

Pat: The only reason I followed your note’s instructions and agreed to meet you is to hear you give a self eulogy. So say your last words and then rest in peace.

Savior: I think you’ll change your mind after you’ve heard me out.

Evans: That’s contingent on the assumption that I’ll let you speak.

Christian: Listen, Pat, I know my brother got a hold of you last week, that he and you had a group therapy session, a session where my name was dragged through the mud. And you know what, each and every word that Jason Wheeler said about me, well, it was true.

Evans is taken aback, almost going white, as if he just saw a ghost, and not the polite Patrick Swayze ghost, the Pin-Head Hellraiser type ghost.

Christian: That’s right, I’m not above listening to a little criticism, it’s the only way to tackle your flaws. So what Jason and you had to say about me, it….it…..opened my eyes. It made me realize that I had betrayed and held back all those closest to me. So now I’m setting out to right my wrongs, to be a man of honor.

Pat: You think it’s honorable to interfere in matches?

Savior: No, I think it’s honorable to repay those who helped me succeed.

Evans was not expecting this about face, Savior proverbially turning over a new leaf. Needless to say he’s a bit speculative of Christian’s TRUE intentions.

Christian: I’m in NO hurry to win back the World Title, I realize that it’s YOUR turn to have that distinction, to reach that milestone. After everything you’ve done for me, don’t think I’ve forgotten Destiny, the least I can do is make sure you become World Heavyweight Champion.

Pat: I’m not buying it….

Savior: Okay, okay, to be totally honest….

Evans: Are you even capable of that?

Christian: I do have “ulterior motives.” Part of me wants to show Orlando and everyone else just how much damage I can do the longer I’m away from the World Championship. I want to prove to the Icon that it’s not safe to ANYONE to deny me the title. That the more he screws with my title opportunities, the more I damage what he holds so dear. And while I illustrate my point by brutalizing all the champions of the IWC, I’ll ensure that my most trusted ally keeps the belt warm for me. That gives you you’re title reign and allows me to continue influencing the direction of the championship, we both win. And think Pat, just think, the final outcome of this plot will give you the match you always wanted, Evans vs. Savior, WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE!

Evans looks completely dead inside, no excitement elicited from Savior’s words.

Evans: I think it’s a little late for any of that isn’t it? Considering that you cost me the triple threat.

Savior: Good point, but naturally I’m thinking two steps ahead, and I ALWAYS have a back up plan.

Pat: Yeah, just like last week, right? When you took out all the officials and assumed it would force Sallie & Krissie to insert you as special ref into the title match, only for it to COMPLETELY back fire.

Christian: I would think you to never bring that up again. It was an anomaly, a rare occurrence when I allowed my emotion to overwhelm my intellect. But believe me, I’ve given a lot more thought to this NEW plan.

Evans doesn’t know how to handle this information, given the degree of difficulty that comes with reading Savior.

Savior: And to prove my point I’ll make up for tonight’s fiasco on the next Riot! Look forward to seeing you at the next show, chief.

A slap connects to Pat’s bicep and Savior steps around him. Pat doesn’t even turn to watch him leave, he just stares at the wall, wishing he had followed through with his plan to take Christian’s head off.

AXL EVERMORE © VS. HURSE

“There is a House in New Orleans” filters through the PA system and gives rise to a very negative reaction from the crowd. Hurse pays them no mind, his brain far too preoccupied with other concerns to worry what the fans think of him. He storms straight towards the ring and up the steps to the apron, not looking one bit pleased by his conversation with Buehler in the back.

Comeau: Things obviously haven’t worked out well for Hurse here tonight, his master plan, which actually just turned out to be another attack on Porno Lad, backfired in a big, BIG way. Jackson Adams was not only defeated but Porno Lad took off with his X-Class Title.

Moore: Porno Lad gets all the bright and shinnies, it’s not fair. Oh well, at least he’ll let me play with them later. I can finally have a tea party with nothing but title belts as my guests.

Mark: You’ll be living your dream, but the question remains, will Hurse live HIS dream tonight by virtue of defeating Axl Evermore and leaving with the Cartel Title?

Hurse still looks frazzled by his conversation a few moments ago, but tries to get himself focused on the task at hand.

The crowd is confused at first when they hear lyrics not usually associated with Axl Evermore, but quickly realize that their meant to pay homage. “Smooth Criminal,” the classic MJ beat hits the PA system as Axl steps to the stage, adorned in his coveted Cartel Championship. He pauses on the stage to point out over the fans who are chanting his name and singing along to the lyrics. Axl snaps his fingers to the tune as he makes his way down the ramp, reaching the ring then hopping to the apron. He removes his bandana, pitching it into the crowd where it’s eagerly fought over by a few fans.

Comeau: Axl Evermore, Cartel Champion, about to make his first defense of the title tonight. He won that belt in an infamous Rumble match at Paranoia VI, but will his reign be short lived?

Susie: I hope not, I’d hate to see the title expire while still in the prime of its life.

Mark: For now on, for the sake of my sanity, I’m just going to pretend what your saying makes some kind of sense.

Moore: And I’m gonna pretend that your Bo-Bo the Clown.

The Cartel Title is handed over to referee Gray, and before he can clear it from the ring he finds himself face to face with Hurse.

Hurse: You BETTER call this match right down the middle, SCAB! Don’t think I didn’t notice you putting the moves on my wife earlier, home wrecker.

The official begs off before Hurse suddenly snatches the title out of his hands, turns and swings it straight at Evermore’s face. Axl ducks the inbound shot with the belt as Hurse spins right around into a boot to the gut followed by the stunner. The Manhattan Center reacts as if they just saw Evermore catch a game winning pass.

Comeau: The Fully Loaded stunner on Hurse after he tried to crack Axl with that title belt.

Unfortunately for Axl, Hurse rolls out of the ring and splatters across the mats, well out of range for a pin.

The fans are still cheering while an incredibly dazed Hurse tries to recover on the outside mats. That’s when Axl slides out of the squared circle, takes him by the hair, pulls him to his feet and desperately tries to get him into the ring so that he can pin him.

Hurse clings to the corner of one of the thin protective mats, hanging onto it with all the strength left in his body. Evermore stomps him to the fist and grabs his bangs, dragging his dazed opponent towards the squared circle. Hurse grabs the tarp hanging from the squared circle, gripping it as tightly as possible. He wraps his arms around it as Evermore struggles to break him loose and put him back into the squared circle.

Comeau: Hurse trying not to get back into that ring where he would surely be pinned and defeated.

Moore: The power of the pony tail will assist Evermore to victory.

Axl clobbers Hurse over the upper back again and again, forcing him to release the tarp and allowing Evermore roll him into the ring. Evermore now slides in and crawls into the lateral press, forearm wedged to his face for good measure.

1

2

Hurse kicks out, surprising Axl and the fans alike.

Mark: That’s a shocker, Hurse kicks out after the stunner, I suppose he bought himself enough time on the outside of the ring.

Susie: You can buy time?

Comeau: If that were true, I’d probably buy back the last year of my life so I wouldn’t have squandered it listening to you.

Hurse tries once again to crawl away from Evermore only to have Axl step over his leg and lift it into the Boston Crab. Screams emanate from the Master of Control, who already looks on the verge of tapping out. He lifts his palm into the air, moments from slapping the canvas.

Mark: Axl about to score the submission!

Susie: I think Evermore scores a lot, well, if he’s anything like Max Craven that is.

Hurse somehow balls up his fist and prevents tapping out. He now wedges his knuckles to the canvas, beginning to pull himself towards the ropes while Axl wrenches back further and further on the hold. History seems to be on the verge of repeating itself, Axl about to force Hurse into submission with a title on the line.

Lightning doesn’t strike the same spot twice, because Hurse finds his way into the ropes, grabbing the bottom one. Referee Gray is right in the face of Axl, starting a five count, the magic number that forces Axl to break his hold.

He turns towards Hurse, lifts his boot into the air and drives it down into his kidney area. The Master of Control is squealing like a pig as Axl grinds his heel across the lower back of his rival. Finally he takes his foot away and drops an elbow into Hurse’s kidneys.

He rolls under the ropes, trying to escape the wrath of the champion. He ends up seated on the apron when Axl reaches through the ropes, grabbing him by the hair.

Evermore: No, no, no, I don’t think so.

Hurse is screaming as Axl reaches over the ropes, grabs his locks and pulls him to his feet on the apron. He’s on the verge of forcefully re-inserting him into the ring when Hurse reaches back, grabs Axl around the neck and falls to his seat. Evermore’s throat hits the top rope forcefully causing him to stagger back gasping for air.

Comeau: Hurse finally getting some offense in, that’s the only way he’d be able to escape Axl.

Hurse jumps back into the ring then charges across it before lunging into a spinning heel kick. His boots nail Evermore to the forehead, knocking both men down to the canvas. Hurse scrambles into a lateral press, hoping he’s done enough damage to secure himself the Cartel Title.

1

Kick out by Evermore.

Mark: Hurse hasn’t done nearly enough to facilitate a victory.

A frantic Hurse grabs Axl’s wrists, pulling up on them and sitting Evermore on the canvas. He wedges his foot to Evermore’s sternum and delivers a reverse curb stomp. Axl’s back slams against the canvas before Hurse pulls on the wrist once again. Evermore sits up and Hurse delivers a second reverse curb stomp, then a third.

Finally he breaks the reverse curb stomp and drops his elbow into the heart of the champion. He rolls to his feet and drops another elbow, then stands up and nails a third elbow.

Comeau: Now it seems Hurse is taking a page from Katelyn’s playbook, deciding repetition is the best means of scoring a win.

Moore: Repetition is AWESOME! It means I won’t have to learn the names of other moves and I’ll always know what comes next.

Hurse now hooks both legs for added leverage.

1

Axl launches a shoulder from the canvas once more, continuing to stave off defeat. He rolls to his knees while Hurse steps in, takes him around the neck and pulls him up to his feet. That’s when Axl blasts him to the ribs, the blow doubling him over.

Evermore stands up delivering a big European Uppercut, the jaw shattering strike causing him to stagger in reverse. Axl begins to build momentum, stepping in for a knock out shot. That’s when Hurse catches Axl by the wrist, lifts his foot into the air and wedges it to the Cartel Champion’s chin.

He falls to his back, leg stretched out into Axl’s chin, which he pulls down violently into the bottom of his boot. The maneuver causes the Champion to stumble towards a nearby corner, falling on it for support.

Hurse rises to his feet, starting to build some momentum as he comes charging in. That’s when Axl surprisingly steps out of the corner drilling Hurse to the jaw with a Euro Uppercut. The strike has Hurse all discombobulated, allowing Evermore to connect with a second jaw rattling uppercut of the European variety.

Evermore backs into the corner and now comes rushing out of it for the running European Uppercut only to have Hurse duck the inbound blow. Evermore spins towards his opponent only to be caught around the neck and hit with a downward spiral that plants him face first into the second turnbuckle pad.

Comeau: Hurse continuing to have Axl’s number it seems.

Susie: I have it on my speed dial, oh wait, I don’t have any numbers on my speed dial, actually I don’t even have a phone.

Mark: Thanks for wasting ten more seconds of my life.

Evermore continues to grip at his face as he rolls towards the center of the ring. All the while Hurse comes barreling out of the corner and nails a Muta-esque elbow this time. Axl begins to curl into a ball as a result while Hurse sits him up, pulls back on his wounded jaw and wedges a knee to his spine.

Comeau: Rear chin lock applied, Hurse wisely putting the pressure on the Cartel Champion.

The Cartel Champion grimaces from the pain in his lower back and from his jaw. Hurse takes one hand away from the jaw and puts his fingers into Axl’s nostrils, rearing back on them. The fish hooking elicits a five count from official Gray. He reaches four and causes Hurse to break the fish hook and go back to the basic rear chin-lock.

Mark: Dammit ref, your supposed to break the hold after cheating like that, not let Hurse go right back to the rear chin-lock.

Moore: Give the refs a break, at least their trying.

Comeau: Which is more than I can say about you.

The fans are chanting for the hometown veteran, urging him on, compelling him to stand up. Evermore twists his body back and forth, trying to escape this predicament and inching closer and closer to his feet. There is nothing that will stop him from standing, Hurse realizing this and transitioning from the rear chin lock into a stunner predicament.

He begins to rush at the turnbuckle going for the Disinfectant. Evermore shoves him off though, sending Hurse rushing into the cables, bouncing off and coming back in before being caught in the Cartel Champion’s clutches.

Evermore sets up for the Exploder suplex. That’s when Hurse elbows him to the temple, then does it again, breaking himself free from these clutches. Axl staggers forward and then spins around into the challenger’s clutches. Hurse takes him around the neck, steps up a turnbuckle and flips over backwards into the Disinfectant.

The sit-out sliced bread number 2 connects, leaving Evermore laid out. Hurse rolls in reverse to his knees and then scrambles into the lateral press.

1

2

Axl launches a shoulder from the ring, maintaining his possession over the Cartel Title.

Comeau: A near pinfall for Hurse, who looks as if he’s starting to get frustrated. I remember a time when he actually lived up to his moniker and was the Master of Control, but ever since he lost that World Title a year ago he’s just not been the same.

Susie: Maybe he needs an injection of testosterone. My uncle had several of them, sure they sent him through a second puberty but they still helped give him more energy.

Hurse crawls up behind Axl, sits him on the canvas and once again wedges his knee to his kidney area. He now pulls back on both wrists, applying a modified surfboard of sorts. Axl’s name is chanted from a compassionate audience, their lungs almost bursting as they plead for the Cartel Champion to please stand up.

Axl obeys their commands and like a loyal pooch starts to struggle to his feet. Hurse is as despondent as a death row inmate, his head frantically shaking back and forth. Despite his best efforts Hurse cannot keep Axl down. Evermore stands up and Hurse breaks his own hold in favor of locking in another one.

He steps forward and applies the sleeper hold, twisting and ripping Axl’s head back and forth. Somehow Axl is able to twist his body and deliver an elbow to the challenger’s ribs, followed by a second one. The sleeper hold is broken but now Hurse grabs Axl by the back of the head, jumps into the air and pulls the champion down face first into his raised knee.

Axl stumbles back, looking as lost as a cast member in Dazed and Confused. Hurse takes advantage, rushing forward to continue his onslaught only to be caught around the neck and thigh, Evermore dropping back into the exploder. He ends up on top of Hurse’s chest, going for the pinfall.

1

2

Hurse kicks out and the fans react with despair.

Comeau: Another nearfall in this grueling Cartel Title defense. Evermore is determined to leave here tonight as champion while Hurse is just as determined to do the same.

Susie: And I’m determined to learn how to chew and walk at the same time. It’s far TOO complicated.

Axl almost can’t believe that his exploder suplex wasn’t enough. He rolls to his feet, snatches Hurse by the wrist and pulls him to his knees. That’s when Axl begins to hook both arms, looking for the Flipside. Somehow Hurse frees his arms at the last second, reaching out and grabbing the creases of Evermore’s knees.

Hurse goes for the Legend Lock, but can’t get Axl off of his feet. Evermore blasts Hurse over the back with a forearm then reaches down and grabs him by the armpits, twisting around into a back slide. The crowd jumps from their seats, realizing that Axl is moments from retaining his title.

1

2

Hurse kicks out, dropping over to his knees then scooting towards a kneeling Axl and hooking both of his arms. He forces the Champion to his feet, setting up for the Lysol Injection.

Just before the pedigree can be delivered, Evermore stands up and back drops Hurse through the air.

Comeau: Both of these men going back and forth, each one trying to nail their trademark moves and end this title bout. I almost thought Hurse had it with the Lysol Injection.

An ailing Hurse rolls to his knees, gripping at his lower back in the process. That’s when Axl steps in and grabs his arms, again hooking them as he sets for the Flipside. He almost has to throw Hurse from his knees up into the air to hit the move, and that’s exactly when Hurse slips free, flipping forward and landing on Evermore’s shoulders.

Hurse pulls Axl over into a hurricarana, sitting on his chest for only a moment only to stand and grab Axl by the hair. He rolls Evermore to his knees and steps over his head, making an “H” gesture with his fingers above his head.

Comeau: Here comes the Sanitizer.

Susie: Good, because my chair was starting to smell funky.

All hope is lost it seems before Evermore twists his body, wedges his shoulders to Hurse’s ribs and counters the styles clash by lifting his opponent into a fireman’s carry. The crowd goes nuts at this point as Evermore throws Hurse up into the air and transitions into the falcon arrow.

Hurse slams across his back with the fans popping loudly and Evermore reaching out to hook the creases of the challenger’s knees. He lifts up on them and leans back with the crowd going nuts.

Mark: Axl pulling out a variant of the falcon arrow, will it be enough to retain him the Cartel Title!?!

The scab ref slides in and makes the count.

1

2

3

The Manhattan Center is rattled by the reaction from the screaming fans. They are ecstatic to see Evermore make it past his first Cartel Title defense successfully.

Mark: Big victory for Evermore, he’s finally got over the hump and retained the Cartel Title after a thrilling contest.

Moore: Thriller, THRILLER….

Comeau: Please, PLEASE, stop singing. I’m sure MJ would roll over in his grave if he heard you ruining his classic.

The fans are still showering Evermore with applause as he rises to his knees, the Cartel Title being handed over. Official Gray bestows the title unto his forearms, Evermore raising the gold plate to his face, thankful to still have it in his possession.

BAD, BAD ADAMS

A glimpse of the Icon is met with thunderous applause from the audience, overjoyed every time his face adorns the titantron. The feed emanates from his office where Orlando is pacing, cell-phone held to his ear.

Orlando: I’m glad to hear your feeling better Wright, hopefully we can get you guys medically cleared sooner rather than later.

He plants himself in a chair, the only object centered in an otherwise barren office. Orlando has not spent very much time decorating his office, far too consumed with other more pressing matters.

Cruze: Yeah, I appreciate you putting me in contact with these replacement refs, but I don’t think they cut the mustard.

Jackson Adams: Speaking of which….

Somehow Jackson slipped into the office unnoticed, which is surprising considering the enormous size of his head. Orlando sighs and continues with his phone conversation, paying little attention to Jackson.

Orlando: So yeah, how are the kids?

Jackson: Um, hellloooo, I have a complaint. Star with a problem, that means drop everything your doing and pander to ME!

The yelping tone of Adams’ voice forces Orlando to cut short his conversation.

Cruze: Hey Wright, I’ll call you back, duty calls.

Orlando hangs up the phone and slides it into his pocket, allowing Adams to cut loose with a frantic list of grievances.

Adams: It’s about time. Where do you get off ignoring me? I should get the roster together and have you fired! That’s right, FIRED! You gave us that power remember?

After hanging up the phone Orlando stoops over, grabs a newspaper off of the carpet and tucks it under his armpit. He steps right around Adams who is still yelping away.

Jackson: That official you put out there totally screwed things up. He LET Porno Lad take my title, MY title. Nowhere in writing did it say that I was putting my championship up for grabs. Is this how you want your first night as boss to go, are you allowing this travesty? What are you going to do about this, Orlando, fire that ref, fire Porno Lad, hell, fire the whole roster!?! You had better do something mister!

Jackson finally stops talking as Orlando opens the door to his private bathroom and steps inside. The door is then closed right in front of Adams’ face, forcing him to shut his mouth. He’s quiet out of sheer shock, doing a double take as he realizes Orlando just went to the bathroom in the middle of his tirade.

Jackson: Are you….are you actually….using the bathroom?

It’s almost too hard for Adams to believe, but the muffled voice confirms his suspicion.

Orlando: That and reading Garfield.

Adams: How DARE….

Jackson almost snaps.

Orlando: SHUSH! You’re going to listen for a change Jackson…

Jackson: If your doing what I think your doing in there I would rather not listen.

Cruze: I’m not oblivious to what just happened, so don’t feel you have to scream in my face to remind me. Now in regards to the theft of your X-Class Title I’ll have my security staff search for Porno Lad, but finding him isn’t exactly a top priority.

If steam could shoot from Jackson’s ears it would right now.

Adams: WHAT!?!

Orlando: You struck a referee….

Jackson: But he was a scab.

Cruze: That doesn’t matter, he’s still an official IWC referee, and I will not tolerate any attacks upon him. Plus you and Hurse have attacked Porno Lad twice in consecutive weeks, so I feel you’re the one to blame for the theft of the title.

Jackson is reeling from this news.

Orlando: Furthermore, as punishment for assaulting a referee, I’m giving the fans the option of deciding the stipulation for your match next week….

Adams: Are you out of your mind!?!

Cruze: They’ll get to choose between putting you in either a chain match, a stretcher match, or a Singapore cane match.

Adams is officially white as a sheet, almost rendered incapable of speech.

Jackson: Against who?

Orlando: Um, little help.

Adams hadn’t even noticed Orlando’s hand protruding from the bathroom until his fingers started snapping.

Adam: Oh.

He grabs a roll of tissue paper off of a stack in the corner of the room and places it in Orlando’s palm.

Cruze: You’ll be facing, RIGGS!

The lower lip of the rightful X-Class Champion quivers in terror.

Orlando: You can leave now.

Adams slips his hands down his face, muscles twitching from the shock of his match now scheduled for next week.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

A roulette table slowly spins, a ball bouncing from one number to another.

Risking It All

The commercial briefly flashes to Christian Savior nailing a spear to the ribs of Johnny Kingdom.

Five cards hit a green table, forming a full house.

Winning it Big

Nathan Creed briefly consumes the screen with blood streaming down his face and his thumb intensely sliding across his throat.

Red dice roll across the table, landing on snake eyes.

There is no Risk

A maniacal Black Cat is now shown, soaring through the air with a 450 splash.

There is no Reward

A slot machine is shown dispensing a number of coins.

Until You Up The Ante

Robin Brooks nails a superkick, Psycho powerbombs an opponent through a table, Pat Evans rips at the throat of an opponent with the Time to Go to Sleep. All these images are briefly shown before one final message consumes the screen.

IWC: Upping the Ante
Live from the Hard Rock Café in Las Vegas

SEAN JOHNSON VS. PSYCHO

Riot! returns to the inside of the Manhattan Center, camera zoomed in on the Cartel Title belt. It’s positioned at the center of the announce table, an exhausted Axl Evermore seated behind it.

Mark: We’re back here on Riot! and we’re joined by a special guest, Axl Evermore. Axl just coming off a grueling defense of his championship and I’m guessing you want to scout the possible FUTURE contenders for your belt.

Axl: I guess. I mostly sat here cause the chairs are so comfy.

Susie: Mine spins, WEEEEEE!

Evermore: Fantastic. But yeah, never hurts to get a close up view of my potential challengers, unless it’s a close up of Psycho’s face. Yeesh!

Comeau: We’re glad to have you with us here Evermore, and after this match we’ll finally know who will be the next person you’ll have to put that gold on the line against.

Axl: Probably, or we’ll just get some clusterfuck shitty ending that just makes things far more confusing than they need to be.

Moore: That’s why I love this job, things are so confusing I don’t even have to try and explain them.

“Billie Jean is not my lover” these lyrics hits the PA system and to the stage saunters Sean Johnson. The crowd gives him and his caged accomplice, Poopers a rousing ovation. Sean lifts his gloved fist into the air and turns his back to the ring, actually moonwalking towards the squared circle. He finally turns around, puts the cage down at ringside then slips into the squared circle under the bottom rope.

Comeau: Sean Johnson paying homage to the King of Pop on his way to the ring for this HUGE Cartel Title Rankings match, where should he win he’ll be the next man to challenge you for the belt, but if he should fail, he’ll have to wait in line.

Moore: Waiting in lines are boring. That’s why I just show some leg and skip to the front.

Evermore: Yeah, I do the same thing Susie. If I were wearing a hat I’m sure I’d tip it towards Johnson, the guy is unique, a bit abstract, sure he’s kind of like Al Snow during that atrocious Pepper storyline what with bringing that….well…..God only knows what the hell it is to the ring with him, but it’s that uniqueness that makes him a threat to the title.

Sean continues to moonwalk across the canvas and almost busts out into a Thriller dance before Soldier Side hits the PA system and the always disgruntled Psycho moves to the stage. His presence puts an end to any dance routine, Sean becoming focused on the ill-tempered beast descending upon the ring. Psycho’s face is twisted with rage, his eyes clouded with animosity and his lips curled in disgust. A new message is written in paint across his sternum, “ME>axl.”

Comeau: Psycho coming out here and again brandishing a message dedicated to you, Axl, across his sternum.

Axl: And what a bouncy sternum it is. Hey if Psycho wants to come out here ripping off Raven, not combing his hair and smelling like he just fell from the rear end of a sick elephant that’s his business, but I’m not going to be intimidated just because the guy knows how to work a paint brush.

Moore: I don’t, they keep getting stuck in my teeth.

Psycho enters the ring and steps right past Johnson towards the ropes, glaring over them at a snide Evermore.

Mark: Psycho glaring in our direction.

Evermore: It’s alright, his eyesight operates on movement, so if you stay still he won’t see you. Okay, I get it already Psycho, you have it out for me, although for the life of me I can’t understand why.

As the bell rings Psycho continues to beam a menacing glare in Axl’s direction, obviously reading to jump through the ropes and rip out his throat with his teeth if necessary. That’s when he’s spun around though and Johnson nails a hard right under Psycho’s jaw, the blow staggering him.

Sean now boots Psycho to the ribs, doubling him over before hooking the arms.

Comeau: Johnson already going for the pedigree.

Axl: I guess men with obscenely large noses are the only ones allowed to hit this move, and it serves Psycho right for being so cliché with the whole pre-match staredown with the guy on commentary.

Before the pedigree can be delivered Psycho swings his body, freeing his head from under Johnson’s seat, stepping to his side and grabbing him by the back of the head. A stunned Johnson is charged at the cables and before he knows it he’s pitched over the ropes, sent crashing to the outside mats.

He ends up rolling into the announce table, falling shoulder first against it. Psycho now slides out himself and approaches the struggling Johnson, grabbing him by the hair, pulling him to his feet and then hesitating to slam him face first into the announce table.

Instead of going ahead and delivering the move, Psycho once again makes eye contact with Evermore.

Evermore: Yep, I’m still right here Psycho, no need to keep checking.

Susie: Maybe he should pinch you to make sure.

Psycho mumbles something derogatory about Axl before going to slam Sean skull first into the table. Unfortunately he hesitated too long, giving Sean enough time to recover and slap his palms onto the surface of the table, preventing having his face driven into it. He now elbows Psycho to the ribs then sends his face cracking off of the wood.

Mark: Psycho slammed face first into our announce table.

Axl: I kind of feel more sorry for the announce table than Psycho.

The blow leaves Psycho very disorientated, his back turned towards Johnson who suddenly snatches the Cartel Title belt off of the announce table.

The gold is stretched between his hands, Sean laying in wait to clock Psycho in the face with the belt. That’s when Axl stands up and grabs HIS belt out of Johnson’s hands, throwing it where it belongs, over his shoulder.

Evermore: Nuh, nuh, no, no, I don’t think so.

Sean grows furious, if he were a pot of water he’d be over-boiling, his eyes vindictively locking on Axl.

Axl: Now, now Johnson, you don’t play with other people’s belongings. Go on, keep beating on Psycho, GET!

The stewing Johnson hesitates, giving Evermore one last glance before going after the Sadistic One.

Mark: I’m surprised you resolved that so peacefully.

Evermore: Same here, even though I wasn’t even trying to. I suppose part of me wants to see this match have a clean finish, something unheard of here in the IWC.

Susie: Can I touch your belt? I promise I won’t get it dirty like Johnson.

Axl: No.

Moore: Aww. Can I at least pretend I’m holding it?

Evermore: Nope.

A forearm clobbers Psycho over the upper back, the blow knocking him into the apron. Johnson takes him by the hair, pulls back on his head and slams him face first off of the apron. Now Psycho is even more disorientated than before as Johnson rolls him into the ring in order to break up referee Nicholas’ ten count.

However, Psycho ends up with his body in the ring, but his head stuck out over the apron. Johnson hops to the apron beside him then jumps off, coming down with an elbow across the forehead of his opposition. Psycho groans in pain and tries to roll his rotund frame fully into the ring but Johnson grabs hold of his hair and keeps his head extended out over the apron.

He steps back then rushes in and delivers a hard kick right to the temple. The blow finally sends Psycho rolling towards the center of the ring, his head throbbing from the pain.

Sean slides in after him and then rushes across the ring, lunging into the air and coming down knee first into his opponent’s battered skull.

Mark: Johnson just taking control of Psycho, repeated shots delivered to the skull. Maybe he thinks there’s still some lingering damage from that Tables Are Legal match last week.

Axl: I wouldn’t count on it, if there’s one thing I know about Psycho, it’s that he’s got an extremely hard head.

Moore: Yeah, that happens to lots of guys, especially when they see me naked.

Evermore: That wasn’t the head I was talking about but oh well, at least you’ve given me a nice mental image.

Susie: You’re welcome. Can I hold your title belt now?

Axl: I’m sure you’ve never heard this phrase before let alone used it, but no means no.

Sean stands up, rushes backwards into the ropes, bounces off then lunges across the ring into ANOTHER knee drop. This one nails Psycho right between the eyes and sends him convulsing across the canvas.

His ears must be ringing from all the blows to his brain, a lot of damage being inflicted. Psycho rolls to his knees and tries to stand up only for Johnson to deliver a quick running knee strike to the side of his skull. The shot sends Psycho down to the canvas, his head absolutely pounding at this point.

Sean turns around and drops into a quick lateral press.

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Psycho actually kicks out, demonstrating his unbelievable strength and threshold for pain.

Sean actually looks a bit shocked by this kick out, prompting him to begin stomping down at Psycho’s face and sternum. Each boot connects with a little more force than the one before it, until eventually Johnson lunges into the air, catches some height and comes down with a grand finale stomp to the bridge of his opponent’s nose.

Psycho sits up swiping his hands down his face and then rolling to his side, desperately trying to get up or at least create some space between himself and his opponent. Sean quickly steps in and wraps his arm around the large, tree trunk like neck of his opposition, applying a front chancery submission hold.

He hooks one of Psycho’s arms for good measure, giving him greater leverage on the hold.

Comeau: Johnson really wearing down Psycho, all those blows to the skull have proven effective thus far.

Evermore: Wow, how brilliant, attack a man’s head, I don’t think anybody has ever thought of doing that before. Come on Mark, it’s not like it takes a rocket scientist to figure out assaulting someone’s head is good strategy.

Susie: Hitting someone in the head, that IS brilliant. Always works in the cartoons.

Even after the numerous bumps to his noggin, Psycho refuses to stay down. He wills himself to his feet and breaks one of his arms free, wedging both palms to the stomach of his adversary. Johnson is stunned as he’s hoisted from his feet and THROWN backwards across the ring. His submission is broken as he crashes to the canvas onto his elbows and knees, looking STUNNED by the Herculean strength of his opponent.

Axl: There we go, Psycho showing what makes him such a viable contender, the fact that he just doesn’t feel pain. He’s like one of those bad James Bond villains, only with weaker dialogue and a greater megalomania complex.

Moore: I knew he had steel teeth.

Psycho steps in and snatches Johnson by his throat, two enormous palms engulfing his neck. The Griffin is hoisted from his feet and tossed like a sack of potatoes into the turnbuckle. Psycho now squashes him into mashed potatoes by charging in and throwing all of his weight straight into Sean’s body.

Comeau: Big splash in the corner, Psycho getting into the driver’s seat.

Evermore: What a slobber knocker, this is bowling shoe ugly, see, I listen to JR commentary a lot too Mark, its why I have that gentle Oklahoma cadence to my voice.

Susie: I’d marry your voice if it had a penis.

Johnson stumbles out of the corner and right into the arms of Psycho, the Sadistic One pulling him up into the air then twisting into a belly to belly slam. Evermore cringes behind the commentator’s table, realizing that he could be in for the same fate should Psycho walk away from this match victorious.

Axl: I think my hands would definitely be full with this guy, and not just because he’s in serious need of a South Beach diet. Cut the carbs Psycho, cut the carbs!

Mark: It’s good to see that you may have differences with these guys but you can still respect them. I understand why Orlando pretty much passed the torch to you, has that put anymore pressure on your shoulders?

Evermore: Although this isn’t an exclusive interview, Mark, I will tell you that I handle pressure nicely, and it is a distinct honor for Orlando to give me the proverbial pat on the back.

Moore: If he patted me on the back it probably shatter my spine.

Psycho stands up and takes the bangs of Johnson, sitting him up long enough to deliver a straight jab to his forehead. The blow knocks him to his back in perfect position for Psycho to wedge his foot to Sean’s throat, choking the life out of him.

The face of the Griffin transforms into a bright shade of red as he gasps for air. That’s when the Sadistic One once again plucks him from the canvas to his feet, hoisting him up onto a shoulder then throwing him almost the full length of the ring with a big running scoop slam.

Sean’s kidneys take a pounding from the brutal landing. He squeezes his eyes together and sluggishly begins to stand up when Psycho takes him by the ear, hoists him to his feet then scoops him into the air. Once more he throws Johnson FAR across the ring with another running scoop slam.

Comeau: Psycho displaying his raw, unmitigated power.

Axl: Like I said, he’s a tough guy. I guess he found time to hit the weights in between his group therapy sessions.

Sean winces from the pain coursing through his back, taking the pressure off of it by rolling to his stomach. That’s when Psycho steps in, puts a boot to the kidneys of the Griffin and actually stands on top of it. Sean roars in pain from all the weight being placed on his lower back.

He reaches out for the nearby ropes, wrapping his hand around the bottom cable while the official starts a five count. Psycho finally steps off of Johnson’s back then reaches down and wraps his arms around the waist of his victimized opponent. He drags him up to his feet and presses him back first against the ropes, leaving his chest entirely exposed for an absolutely vicious open hand chop.

A red streak is left across Sean’s sternum, the blow doubling him over and knocking the air out of his oxygen. Psycho stands The Griffin upright takes him by the wrist and whips him off into the ropes. Johnson charges at the cables but then lunges into the air before he hits them, landing on the middle cable.

He flies back into a rear elbow only for Psycho to side step him and bend forward. Sean’s lower back falls against Psycho’s shoulder, the Sadistic Savage standing up and hoisting him into the air. He seems to be going for a back drop suplex but when Sean gets up into the air he twists his body and delivers a knee strike to the side of his opponent’s cranium.

The blow causes Psycho to hunch over, dropping Johnson back to his feet as he wraps his arms around his monstrous opponent’s skull and charges forward. He goes for a running bulldog only to have the Sadistic One shove him off into the cables.

That’s when Johnson springs to the second rope and flies off twisting into a buzzsaw kick that nails Psycho right between the eyes.

Axl: Ewww, some nice agility there.

Moore: All he needs is a tutu.

Mark: A big kick delivered to that previously damaged skull. Will it be enough to give Sean the win, and a guaranteed shot at the Cartel Title at Upping the Ante?

Psycho lays on the canvas, eyes fluttering as Johnson crawls sluggishly into the lateral press, reaching for his kidneys in the process.

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The gargantuan Psycho launches a shoulder from the canvas, preventing defeat. He slowly rolls towards his knees in the process while an aching Johnson charges into the ropes in front of him. He springs off of the second rope and flies in reverse, nailing the elbow straight to Psycho’s face.

The blow knocks both men to the canvas, Sean rolling on top of the beast.

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Psycho actually presses Johnson off of him, sending Sean flying towards the ropes. He lands with his side pressed to the cables, grabbing hold of them and dragging his exasperated body to his feet. The Griffin quickly lunges to the second rope, springing into the air and then coming down knee first directly into Psycho’s forehead.

Axl: This is exactly the strategy Sean needs to employ against Psycho. Speaking from experience I can tell you that Psycho may be one of the strongest guys in the company but he’s definitely not the fastest.

After having his brain sufficiently rattled Psycho rolls towards the nearby turnbuckle, pulling himself up into it.

He falls spine first into the corner, leaning on it for support while Sean steps to the center of the ring unleashing a loud roar. He moonwalks briefly across the canvas then spins around and charges at the ropes. He steps up them before delivering a thunderous kick that connects right to the already disorientated face of his opposition.

Psycho looks incredibly dazed by the blow, his eyes fluttering as he tries to remain conscious.

Mark: Sean’s speed continuing to get the best of Psycho.

Evermore: Yeah, I pretty much just said that.

Susie: This job is much easier when you just repeat what other people are saying.

Sean struggles to his feet and comes barreling towards the near comatose Psycho, diving shoulder first into his ribs. The Griffin steps back and dives shoulder first into the Savage’s stomach once more. It’s at this point that he performs a standing back flip, landing on his feet then charging in for another spear to the stomach.

That’s when Psycho reaches out, catches him by both sides of the head and forces it under his seat. Psycho hoists The Griffin up into the air and onto his shoulder in an awesome bomb position before stepping to the center of the ring and dropping to his knees, nailing a train wreck style back breaker.

Axl: Can’t go to the same well too often against Psycho, eventually he’ll catch on, may take him a few months but he’ll catch him in the end.

Every inch of Johnson’s anatomy aches from the backbreaker, the crowd sympathizing with him. They watch as he rolls towards the ropes, dragging himself in the direction of the caged Poopers positioned on the stairs. He reaches under the cables, trying to unleash his secret weapon, but is then grabbed by the ankle and dragged towards the center of the ring.

Psycho steps to Sean’s side and delivers a big elbow drop to his lower back, causing Sean to cry out in pain.

Comeau: Poopers didn’t save Johnson this time.

A sweaty Psycho grabs the locks of the Griffin’s hair, forcing him up to his knees and then taking him by his throat with both palms. Sean is hoisted up to his feet and then into the air for a double handed chokebomb. However, Sean blasts Psycho to the bridge of his nose, the jab causing him to break-up the maneuver.

The Griffin falls to his feet and charges backwards into the cables, bouncing off them and launching himself towards his dazed opponent. That’s when Psycho catches Sean by the throat and swings around into a twisting chokeslam. Sean is driven brutally into the canvas, his back throbbing with pain, having taken quite an onslaught throughout this match.

Psycho now crawls into the lateral press, both legs hooked for the pinfall.

Mark: Psycho may be on the verge of moving on to challenge you for that title Evermore.

Evermore: Meh’. Beat him at Paranoia, I’ll do the same at Upping the Ante.

Susie: Yay for repetition.

A winded Psycho rears back on the legs as far as possible, realizing that he may be moments from going on to challenge for the gold.

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Sean launches a shoulder from the canvas and brings the crowd out of their seats. They are shocked that the Sadistic One did not pick up the victory off of that move.

Mark: Once again these two men showing just how resilient they are. How would you deal with this, Evermore, at Upping the Ante? How do you beat an opponent that is seemingly unbeatable?

Evermore: Well I’ve already proven that I can beat Psycho, just look back at our track record against one another, and Johnson, clearly the man isn’t unbeatable. He’s no Michael Bay inspired Optimus Prime.

The disgruntled Psycho struggles to his feet, body ailing from the numerous blows inflicted upon it. He steps towards Johnson and grabs him by the wrist, dragging him towards a nearby turnbuckle. He leaves him sprawled across the canvas just under the corner which Psycho now charges at.

He jumps over Johnson and then to the middle rope before flying off with the Vader Bomb. Johnson rolls out of the way at the last second though, causing Psycho to crash sternum and stomach first against the ring. He bounces up to his knees as Sean employs the ropes to stand up then steps over Psycho’s skull.

He hooks both arms and nails the pedigree. The fans are exhilarated by what they’ve just witnessed, realizing that the Griffin is moments from achieving victory, from becoming number one contender.

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To an astonished reaction Psycho kicks out, demonstrating his raw strength and resiliency.

Mark: I think this illustrates my point even more clearly about just how…

Axl: Yeah, yeah, yeah, we get it, their strong, they ate their spinach….

Suddenly a trash-can connects to Axl’s upper back, the blow knocking the head-set off his cranium.

Mark: HEY!?!

The Manhattan Center begins to scream as Axl tumbles forward across the announce table, an all too familiar figure standing behind him, dented garbage can in hand.

Comeau: What is HE doing here?

Moore: Maybe he’s here to teach us the values of recycling.

The sight of Too Magnificent’s face elicits an animalistic reaction from the fans. The maniacal behemoth pays no mind to their reaction, he just cocks back the trash can and once again slams it over the upper back of Evermore.

Comeau: Too Magnificent just jumped out of the crowd and he is assaulting Axl. What are you doing Too Mag, why are you here?

Moore: Why don’t you share your trash-can.

Crippling pain may be flowing through his back but Evermore stands up nevertheless, ready to defend himself. He turns towards Too Magnificent who swings the trash can directly over Axl’s skull. The steel dents around his cranium and sends Axl tumbling into the table, now spread out across it.

Mark: Stop this Too Mag. Are you even supposed to be here, I thought you were fired by the Alpha Generation.

The dented trash-can is tossed into the crowd as Too Magnificent steps around to the front of the table, using this vantage point to take Evermore by his bangs. A series of vicious closed fists connect to Axl’s face over and over again, the straight shots beginning to bust him open.

Mark: Why are you doing this!?!

Susie: People with pony tails don’t deserve this type of treatment.

Inside of the ring Johnson has Psycho seated in a corner, stomping him to the chest over and over again. He has his back turned towards the commotion on the outside of the ring, having no idea that Too Mag has dragged Evermore off of the announce table.

The Cartel Title is taken off of the table as well by this assailant, the gold being stretched across his palms. Evermore grabs the table and drags himself up it, blood dribbling down his face. That’s when Too Mag swings the belt right into Axl’s face, further opening the cut in his flesh.

Mark: AHHHH!

Moore: Awww, how come Too Mag gets to play with the belt but not me?

Evermore now finds himself spread out back first across the announce table with Too Magnificent standing over him, holding the Cartel Championship. Johnson finally catches a glimpse of the chaos, turning around to spot Too Magnificent lifting Evermore’s belt aloft.

The Griffin looks stunned to see Too Magnificent, standing over a bloodied Evermore, gold in his possession.

Too Magnificent now throws the gold down onto the stomach of Axl then turns towards Johnson in the ring. A smile forms on the deranged features of Too Magnificent, who slowly gives the Griffin a thumbs up. He now turns towards the barricade, hops over it and takes off through the crowd, leaving Johnson in a state of perplexity.

Mark: I’m not sure what the hell we’ve just seen. Too Mag attacked Evermore and then raced out of the building.

Susie: Finally, now I get to play with the Cartel Title, and there’s NOTHING that Axl can do about it. I just hope the belt doesn’t double cross me.

Max Craven has rushed down the ramp and around the ring, kneeling over a bloodied Evermore, checking on his condition. Johnson shakes his head over this whole scene, wondering what Too Magnificent was thinking. Unfortunately for him the distraction proves costly as Psycho slithers up behind Sean, grabs him by the tights and pulls him over into a school boy. For added leverage he grabs the waistband of Johnson’s tights and reaches out, grabbing the middle rope.

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3

The fans are absolutely stunned, but more importantly, so is Johnson. He kicks out a moment too late, victory snatched from his clutches by the fleeing Psycho.

Mark: Oh you’ve got to be kidding me, not only does Too Mag take out Axl, but he distracts Johnson long enough to be rolled up by Psycho! We have a new number one contender, but there may not be a match if medical attention isn’t given to the ambushed Evermore.

Moore: As long as he stays unconscious so that I can interview the Cartel Title and find out why it’s so too faced I’ll be fine.

Max continues to frantically call out for assistance, begging for someone to aid his wounded comrade. All the while Johnson argues with the referee’s botched call and Psycho steps around the ring, getting a long look at the laid out Evermore. He takes a threatening step towards the brutalized Evermore and Craven lifts his fist, ready to defend his tag team partner if necessary.

A grin forms on Psycho’s face as he motions to the smeared paint on his chest, insisting that he’ll prove he’s better than Axl soon enough.

AMBER ALERT

Mayne: It was like the greatest interview EVER.

Michelle: Bull.

Billy gloats even though the last thing Blacker wants to do is listen. She may enjoy torture as a hobby, but even Mayne’s voice is too painful for her to handle.

Billy: I TOTALLY got Christian and Pat to open up to one another, I facilitated the whole thing and got it on our special HD cameras. Let’s just say my interview was must see TV, and my eyes are going to look uber sexy in HD, babe. They sparkle, see, SEE!

His face inches closer to Blacker’s pale skin, causing her to physically push him back.

Mayne: When my moving, captivating, inspiring interview is replayed years from now, I want you to watch through the slits of your gimp mask and be in awe. For decades to come people will still be bringing up my name ahead of Geraldo’s as the greatest field reporter of all times.

Michelle: Oh please. I bet they did all the talking and you were just there to move the mic back and forth. You were probably pushed into the background and completely forgotten about.

Although everything she just said was basically true, Billy will never admit it.

Billy: Actually they did much of their argument in the form of letters, but I READ the letter and I even used it to blow my nose….

Porno Lad: ‘Scuse me, but would either of you like to conduct an actual interview?

The moment that Porno Lad moseys into the frame, both shoulders decked out in gold Mayne nearly wets himself and Michelle is on the brink of lactating.

Blacker: Finally, a chance to earn my paycheck.

Blacker and Billy surround a sweaty PL, who quite enjoys being in the spotlight.

Billy: Porno Lad, Porno Lad….

Porno Lad: Umm, is there a question somewhere in your repetition of my name?

Mayne: I’m still trying to come up with one.

Blacker shoves Billy back and inserts herself directly in front of Porno Lad, who takes a moment to examine her curvy frame.

Michelle: I think what everyone wants to know, besides whether your into spanking or piercing, is why you have the X-Class Title in your possession.

Porno Lad pretends not to understand before he follows Blacker’s eyes to the X-Class belt over his shoulder. He jumps, as if he had no idea it was there.

Porno Lad: Oh, this?

The question is posed as the belt drops into his palm.

Billy: Yeah, yeah, why’d you steal it from Jackson, huh, HUH!?!

Michelle palms Billy’s face and shoves him behind her, giving PL some time to actually answer the questions.

Porno Lad: Wait, hold it, stop the car, get out, this is a collect call from…..eeeerrrrr…I didn’t steal ANYTHING. I pinned Jackson Adams, and since I challenged him to put his belt on the line for our match….come on, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist.

He snaps his fingers, hoping that the correspondents can connect two and two.

Billy: But he didn’t accept your challenge!

Porno Lad: Pfft, like that matters.

Mayne: You have to have a title match in writin….

Porno Lad: HEY! I don’t come to your job and slap the dick out of your mouth, so stop telling me how to do my OWN job. I’m X-Class Champion now, you, and others will just have to live with it.

Blacker: What others.

Billy tries to answer the same question and get around Blacker to do it but her well timed elbows keep him at bay.

Porno Lad: Oh, how about Katelyn Buehler for instance? It seems to me that if she wants to cash in her number one contendership at the X-Class Title, I’ll be the one she has to face for the belt now. That way I can make good on a certain vow where I promised to knock a few teeth out of her mouth.

Billy: So this was all to get back at Katelyn Buehler?

An elbow nails him in the teeth, shutting him up.

Porno Lad: Yeah, Buehler, and Christian Savior. See, I heard through the lockeroom that he had this Road to Eldoraldo routine planned out where he intends to come after EVERY champion. So seeing as I’m holding TWO title belts that pretty much guarantees I’ll be the first person he comes looking for. Then we can finally end the Hardcore Match we started two weeks ago.

Michelle: That’s pretty ingenious.

Porno Lad: Would you expect anything less from Porno Lad?

Billy: Yes, a lot less.

Now one of Michelle’s elbows catches him under the jaw.

You bastard, you rotten son of a bi….

Hurse bites his tongue as he steps towards Porno Lad, the two finding themselves separated by mere inches.

Porno Lad: Ewww, fiery! Someone come back here to take up for his little buddy?

Porno Lad purposely polishes the X-Class Title while Hurse fights down to the very core of his being to keep from strangling the self proclaimed double champion.

Hurse: You know damn well what this is about, and it’s NOT some fucking title belt. I’m only going to ask this once, where is she?

The threatening steps he takes towards PL do not intimidate the champion.

Hurse: Where is Katelyn!?!

Porno Lad: Well seeing as you actually asked twice and broke your promise does that mean I still have to answer?

Hurse: This is no joke, I’m not playing games with you, Porno Lad.

Porno Lad: Aww, not even Parcheesi?

Hurse: Where did you stash her? Did you squeeze her into one of your bags, you know she’s too big to fit in an overhead compartment, right? Just tell me where you have her hidden.

Porno Lad: Wait, wait, wait, this is almost too good….

Porno Lad tries not to burst into laughter while two microphones dart between his lips and Hurse’s.

Porno Lad: Are you telling me that she left you?

Obviously that concept had never resonated in Hurse’s head, evident by his blank stare.

Hurse: NO! She wasn’t in my dressing room after my match…..

Porno Lad: A match you lost, right?

Hurse mumbles his answer under his breath, making it barely audible.

Porno Lad: Why am I not surprised? Oh yeah, that’s right, because Katelyn’s so predictable. Of course she left you, Hurse, she only gets with winners. That’s why she’s so eager to jump on my jock.

Hurse: No, she wouldn’t do that, you did something to her.

Porno Lad: HA! Why would I do something off camera to Buehler when it be far more gratifying to publicly humiliate her? Do you honestly think I would have gone through the whole process of beating Adams and stealing his X-Class title if I had already kidnapped Katelyn? It wouldn’t make any sense. Just face it, chief, she grabbed hold of the first swinging dick she saw in the lockeroom and now she’s somewhere pleasuring it.

Hurse: You’re full of it, what did you do to her!?!

He lunges for Porno Lad’s throat only for the prankster to side step him, take Hurse by the back of the head and pitch him to the floor. The Master of Control crumbles across the concrete, where he lays and actually begins to sob. All Porno Lad can do is back away shaking his head. As strange as it may seem, he actually has some pity for his long time rival.

Porno Lad: You’re DISGUSTING. You should be grateful that I’m gonna put you and Buehler out of your miseries.

The Prankster backs off camera while Hurse sits on the floor blubbering. Neither Billy nor Michelle know how to react, or if they should even have some type of reaction.

TITLE TENSION

With the World Title shinning over his shoulder Johnny Kingdom struts his stuff towards the ring. Although still being winded from his previous match with Katelyn Buehler, there’s an undeniable swagger in his step, clearly confident about retaining the title tonight.

Mark: Johnny Kingdom on his way to the ring for perhaps the last time as World Heavyweight Champion. He made a challenge and we’re going to see it come to fruition here in our main event, the Team Leader versus Pat Evans.

Moore: I’m guessing there’s going to be a commercial now.

Comeau: You assumed correctly.

Susie: Yay, I finally get to pee, apparently I had to stop doing it while watching the matches, ran out of money for pampers.

Mark: Thanks for just totally killing the vibe AGAIN Susie.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Catch the replay on PPV

JOHNNY KINGDOM © VS. ROBIN BROOKS

After everything that has happened tonight, all the twists and turns, the shocks, the surprises, the crowd surprisingly has energy left in their lungs, more than enough to boo Robin Brooks straight off the planet. The Black Widow embraces the jeers, sounding like a symphony to her ears as she steps to the stage, her entrance tunes drowned out by the reception. Nothing can phase her tonight, it looks like she’s walking on air, almost floating towards the ring.

Comeau: Everything that has happened tonight, all of the controversy, builds to this, Johnny Kingdom moments from defending his belt against this woman, the Black Widow.

Moore: Awww, where’s Paris Dannon, where’s Katie Steward, how can I live vicariously through them when their not even at ringside?

Mark: Indeed, both ladies conspicuous by their absence, but maybe Robin actually wants to win a match nobly for a change.

Brooks slides into the ring, spends only a moment gloating physically before departing the ring to gloat verbally. She rolls out and lands right in front of the announce table, stepping towards it and reaching over to grab the vacant headset.

Susie: Look, Robin likes these nifty ear warmers too.

Comeau: Their a headset Susie, your supposed to hear stuff through them.

Moore: Oh, I guess I should have had them plugged in this whole time.

Robin positions the microphone in front of her lips and before any questions can be asked she makes a bold statement.

Robin: Mark, Fun-bags, I want you and the WHOLE world to know that I’m leaving here tonight with a little extra baggage and as a winner.

She throws down the headset, seemingly guaranteeing victory before sliding back into the ring.

Comeau: The Queen of the IWC vowing that she’ll be victorious tonight, what a big claim she now has to follow up on.

Robin slips into the ring, remains on her knees and whips her hair back while the lyrics of Kingdom’s entrance theme explode through the PA system.

WAKE UP

To say the reaction is explosive would be like saying that a nuclear bomb has the power of a firecracker, a vast understatement. The Team Leader gets the fans to their feet like nobody can, and pauses to soak in the reaction. With the World Title dangling from his hand he moves towards the ring, brushing sweat from his forehead, still suffering the effects of that grueling bout earlier in the evening. Robin grimaces as Johnny nears the squared circle, realizing that he stands between her and the championship she’d like to call her own.

Comeau: Johnny Kingdom energizing the audience with his presence, but will they have cause to cheer after the match is over?

Moore: You bet they will, especially when I bust out my hand puppets.

Mark: I’m sure we’re all looking forward to that, just as Robin and Kingdom have been looking forward to this match. Johnny says he wants to do some gambling in Las Vegas, and not by putting his championship on the line. But could defending the belt after already competing tonight be the ultimate gamble? I guess you can’t have the ultimate reward without risk though.

Upon entering the ring Kingdom hands over his World Title to scab official Conrad, the same man who made the controversial ruling at the start of the show. He raises the belt up high, causing an even louder reaction from the crowd. He now hands the title through the ropes and into the grasps of the time keeper, all the festivities gotten out of the way.

Mark: Let’s get this underway, lord knows everyone in the building has been teeming with excitement for this one.

The bell chimes and Kingdom begins to circle Robin like he were a shark drawn by the scent of blood. Brooks now begins to move in rotations as well, licking the tips of her fingers and then wiggling them in the air. She foolishly seems to be looking for a Greco Roman knuckle lockup.

Johnny’s eyes shift around in his head, wondering why she’d be so stupid given his wealth of strength. Nevertheless he moves forward to tie up when Robin suddenly lunges into the air and dropkicks him under the jaw.

The move catches Kingdom off guard and sends him down to the canvas, grabbing at his jaw in pain. He rolls over to his knees, hands grasping his wounded chin and a look of disbelief inhabiting his eyes.

Mark: Robin firing the first shot.

Susie: She brought a gun? That’s brilliant, would definitely make this match easier for her to win.

Brooks stands up, hopping between feet, overjoyed that she caught Kingdom with the unexpected kick. His shock turns to a smile, enjoying this display from the Black Widow, it will make it all the more satisfying for him when he goes on to crush her dream.

Johnny rolls to his feet and the two once again begin to circle each other, Robin looking high on life, positively slap happy. She mocks Johnny by lifting her wiggling fingers up high, Kingdom staring at her palm with an insincere grin. He lifts a finger, shaking it back and forth, warning Robin to stop testing him.

Finally Brooks steps in, going for another shocking blow, this time in the form of a blatant closed fist. Kingdom catches the inbound hand, swings under it and locks Robin in the arm ringer. Brooks falls to her knees, crying out in pain.

Comeau: Johnny’s got the arm ringer applied and Robin grounded, exactly what he needs to do. If she starts hitting that explosive offense Johnny might not be able to keep up with her.

Robin stands up and suddenly drops to the top of her head, nipping off of it to her feet. She falls to her knees then swings the back of her knee into the ankles of the Team Leader, knocking his legs out from under him. Johnny crashes to his back and Brooks lunges to her feet. She suddenly performs a standing moonsault only for the World Champion to roll out of the way.

Surprisingly Robin lands on her feet, swinging her arms to stay upright while Kingdom departs the ring.

Mark: Robin again coming close to nailing Johnny with a big move. She’s cocky but she can back it up.

Moore: HEY! I’m sick of hearing those rumors about Robin and her gender.

Comeau: That’s NOT what I meant when I said cocky.

Robin smiles in the direction of Johnny, feeling as smug as priest in a day care. The Team Leader shakes his head, tongue lathering in his lips as he tries to put together a strategy in his head that will wipe the smile off the Black Widow’s face.

Finally he jumps to the apron, grabs the top rope and hops over it into the ring. Once again the two start to circle each other, Brooks almost moonwalking across the canvas. Johnny smirks does some work with his hips and shoots his arm out to his side.

Kingdom: SHHHHAAMOOON!!

The crowd laughs over Johnny’s horrid Michael Jackson impersonation, an impersonation Robin is the biggest critic of. It prompts her to loose her smile and charge in for a right hand. Kingdom ducks the inbound fist and drops down behind Brooks, catching her by the belt then pulling her over into a school boy.

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Robin kicks out, rolling over to her feet then backing into the ropes. She bounces off and comes back in at Kingdom, who stands, catches her knee against his shoulder and back drops her high into the air. Robin gets so high up she can almost see her house before finally collapsing to the canvas.

Mark: Backdrop by Johnny, causing Robin to loose her cool after he had a little fun at her expense.

Moore: I wish I had a glove right about now with rhinestones in it.

Robin rolls to her feet as Kingdom steps in, nails one chop, then a second before booting her to the ribs, taking her by the hair and pulling her forward into the front chancery. Kingdom is setting up for the Exodus Finale immediately, not wanting to waste time and further exhaust himself.

Somehow Robin is able to squirm free, dropping down to her knees then launching a right hand towards his crotch. Kingdom is able to lift his foot and stomp down on Brooks’ forearm, keeping her fist from connecting to his genitals. Robin bends over, grabbing her arm and screaming in pain while Johnny drops to her side, also takes hold of her arm and applies the crossface.

Robin is screaming and writhing on the canvas, her palm raising into the air as she prepares to tap out already. All of a sudden her hand slaps the ring, quitting almost immediately from the pain in her arm.

Mark: Robin just TAPPED OUT to the crossface! This match is over and it’s over within mere minutes!

Moore: WHAT!?! I didn’t even get the chance to ask for a snow-cone.

Comeau: There are bigger matters than your DAMNED snow-cone!!

The fans are stunned that Kingdom earned such a quick tap out victory over the SUBMISSION Champion of all people. Obviously the triple threat bout was a little more taxing on her body than she had realized, prompting her to submit when she normally wouldn’t have.

Despite the means in which the submission was earned, Kingdom has retained the World Title tonight. He doesn’t spend a lot of time lingering in the ring, he just grabs his belt from referee Conrad, holds it up high and listens to the mandatory reception.

Mark: Big victory for Kingdom tonight, meaning he may not have to defend his championship at Upping the Ante after all.

Johnny throws the belt over his shoulder and starts up the ramp, confident grin on his face. That’s before the shrill voice of Robin Brooks is heard through the speakers and causes Kingdom to cringe as if he were listening to nails on a chalk board.

Robin: No, NO, that wasn’t fair! It wasn’t FAIR!! I wasn’t READY!

Mark: Who gave Robin a microphone.

Brooks stands up, her arm limp at her side and the other raising a mic to her trembling lips. Somehow, even after just being embarrassed, her lips form a smile.

Brooks: What’s the matter, Johnny, not man enough?

The Team Leader rolls his eyes, not so easily baited.

Brooks: Oh I see, you’re just like Christian Savior after all, you have NO respect for that championship. If you did, you would come back to this ring and give the fans the match you promised them, the five star classic that sends them home happy and sends the credibility of the World Title into the upper echelon!

Johnny scoffs but debates Robin’s comments nevertheless.

Brooks: Come on Johnny; don’t sell the title or yourself short. Don’t deprive the fans the match they wanted to see. Give me one more shot at the belt and you’ll never have to worry about me again. Come on big fella, what do you say? Ready to prove you’re a REAL World Champion?

Kingdom taps his temple, debating, weighing his options.

Kingdom: Will you stop talking if I put the belt on the line?

He doesn’t need a mic for his words to be heard, and the fans eat it em up before cackling at Robin’s expense.

Robin: Errrm, fine.

Robin loves the sound of her own voice and doesn’t like to be deprived of it. The Team Leader checks the watch of one of the fans, seeing how much longer he has before his flight arrives. With a sigh he turns back towards an impatient Robin.

Johnny: Okay, fine, I have fifteen minutes before my flight gets here, might as well as kill a bit more time. But if I even hear your voice once throughout the course of this match, it’s over, I’m walking.

Robin locks her lips and throws away the key, not jeopardizing yet another shot at the World Title. Johnny slides into the ring, hands the belt back to Conrad, the ref unaware if he has any legal standing to protest this decision. The crowd’s reaction tells him that he wouldn’t make out of the building alive if he vetoed it, prompting him to announce that the title match will continue.

Mark: Wow, we’re seeing it again here tonight. Johnny Kingdom and Robin Brooks part two. Hopefully this one goes a bit longer than the previous bout, but I don’t suspect it will given the condition of Robin’s body after that sensational triple threat match.

Susie: ANOTHER title match. I think Robin has the power to bewitch people with her annoying voice. Every time she speaks I do start to feel sleepy.

Comeau: Aww, if only Robin could of heard that.

As the bell chimes in the background, Kingdom barrels across the ring, boots Robin to her ribs and places her in position for the Exodus Finale. He now lifts her up into the air when Robin shifts her weight and surprisingly counters into a small package.

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2

Kingdom kicks out with just seconds to spare, the fans thinking another quick pin was about to be seen. The Team Leader rolls to his feet, stunned by the nearfall. Robin gets to her feet and lunges forward into a knee strike to Johnny’s ribs, doubling him over. She quickly takes him around the neck, setting up for the Spider Bite.

Johnny plucks his head free, grabs Robin’s arm and drags her down to the canvas, trying to apply the crossface again.

Mark: Oh here we go, another crossface attempt! Brooks about to tap out a second time perhaps and allow Johnny to retain his title.

Susie: I never get to play my celebratory kazoo.

The crowd is on the edge of its seat, waiting to see Robin tap out a second time. That’s when she rolls back, putting Kingdom on his spine and allowing Brooks to twist to her feet. She rushes into the cables, bounces off then lunges into the air with a shooting star press.

The standing star press connects, with canvas that is. Kingdom rolls clear from Brooks’ path then slips in and locks on a front chancery. He jumps to his feet before hoisting Brooks up for yet another brain buster attempt. That’s when Brooks delivers a knee to the top of Kingdom’s head, causing him to break the front chancery and allow Robin to drop back to her feet.

She rushes into the cables, bounces off and then lunges into the air, landing on Kingdom’s shoulders and dropping back into a hurricarana. She flips him over and has Johnny in a pinning predicament.

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2

Kingdom sits up, rolling Brooks over backwards. She rolls right out of the sunset flip pinning predicament to her knees when Kingdom steps in, delivering a straight punt kick directly to her face. He places her in a front chancery at this point, plucks her to her feet and goes for the brainbuster, the crowd screaming, but for an entirely different reason.

Once again Christian Savior appears on the stage, moving towards the ring and gripping at his injured ribs in the process. He rubs at his neck as well, also having endured two separate matches here tonight.

Comeau: Oh God, NOT AGAIN, Savior once more making his presence felt, he just refuses to believe he’s not World Champion anymore.

Susie: I went an entire summer refusing to believe babies came from vaginas, I was convinced they sprouted from watermelons.

Mark: And I’m convinced that you should have been euphonized ages ago.

Despite being banged up Savior continues to move to the ring, looking all too ready to create mischief once more.

Moore: Referee Conrad better be ready to stop the Rising Phoenix from ruining yet another match tonight.

Christian continues to move towards the ring, undeterred by the glare of the Team Leader. Johnny breaks up the front chancery then puts on a preemptive stance, ready to unleash his fury on the interfering Christian Savior. That’s when pyrotechnics erupt behind him, almost causing Savior to regurgitate his own heart.

He chokes it back down into his chest as the fireworks cease.

Susie: YAY! We finally got a fireworks show!

Mark: Now what’s happening!?!

All cameras and all eyes now turn towards the rafters where Riggs is standing, fists clinched in preparation. He lingers right above the ring, ready to descend and take out Savior if he even thinks about interfering. As a result Christian lingers at ringside, contemplating if his life is worth sacrificing just to further influence the direction of the World Title.

Comeau: Riggs stalking Savior, keeping him from interfering in yet another match. It’s times like these that I’m very grateful to have him back.

Moore: I’m glad he’s back too, he showed me how to properly apply my mascara.

Now Nathan Creed adds to the cluster of stars trying to affect the World Title match. He steps from the back and points in Christian’s direction, wagging his finger all about, promising to take Savior out.

Mark: Creed also coming out here to ensure that the World Title match ends cleanly. He’s got a bone to pick with Christian after their match earlier tonight.

Savior is surrounded on all sides, he can’t even flee into the ring considering that Kingdom is also waiting for him. Just when all hope looks lost for Savior, what with Riggs waiting to drop from the rafters and Creed prepared to bolt down the ramp, every light in the building dies out.

Comeau: Why does this happen every week?

Susie: I know, I’m fraid of the dark too. I’m afraid that evil clown from Poltergeist is hiding under the announce table, I feel it rubbing my thigh.

Mark: Oh, I thought that was my own leg.

The crowd looks on in confusion, trying to see through the darkness, to make out what is happening in the ring. When the lights raise the crowd finds themselves stunned at the sight of Kingdom laid out and bloody in the center of the squared circle. His head has been busted wide open and a steel pipe rests on the canvas beside him. A terrified Brooks watches on from her seated position in the corner, grasping her hair in both palms.

Mark: What just happened to Kingdom!?! He’s been laid out with a steel pipe. Wait, wait, wait, this isn’t the second time we’ve seen this. He was laid out with a steel pipe several weeks ago, and Nathan Creed was blamed despite pleading his innocence over and over again.

Riggs watches from the rafters, shaking his head over what he’s seeing, although with the lights turned out it gave him more than enough time to swoop down, take out Kingdom then raise back into the rafters. Christian stands on the mats, the closest man to the ring but the most confused one as well.

Nathan occupies the half way point of the ring, wondering what just went down, and realizing that by being here, he’s once again implicated himself in an attack on the World Champion. With confusion running rampant, referee Conrad has no idea what he’s supposed to do. Should he put his foot and end the match even though he didn’t see who used the steel pipe, or should he let the match keep going like he did earlier in the night, despite Riggs being whacked in the head with a chain.

Robin capitalizes on the shock and awe, sliding across the canvas and to the apron. She pulls herself up, approaches the turnbuckle, scales to the top rope and takes flight with the shooting star press. She connects on the prone body of Kingdom before hooking his leg, the fans covering their mouths in shock. She hooks his leg for the pinfall, begging official Conrad to make the count. He drops to his knees, giving himself no other option but to make the count.

Comeau: What the hell are you doing Conrad, you can’t make the count! Damn these Scab Referees! They have no idea what they’re doing. Don’t make that count, don’t make that count!

Each time the hand slaps the canvas the boos get louder.

1

2

3!

Nobody in the building can quite believe it, including the three competitors who could be to blame for what just transpired.

Mark: AAHHH, horse-shit!! Robin just won the World Title! She won the World Title!!

Susie: YAY, YAY, the first female World Champion!

Comeau: Ummm, Hellkat was female.

Moore: Okay, the first full blooded female. Anyway, YAY!

Robin is smiling to the point her cheeks almost burst, as if she were holding half a watermelon in her mouth. She sits up and demands that the referee hand her the World Championship. Official Conrad stares into the title belt, not knowing what to do. With a sigh he hands over the belt, being showered with boos in the process. Brooks acts as if she’s being handed the homecoming queen crown, and immediately wants to commence with a parade.

Comeau: I’m so speechless I’m like….beyond…..cognitive thought.

Susie: I’ve been waiting so long for a World Champion we can get behind, and more importantly one with boobies.

Mark: I wonder why Paris and Katie aren’t out here celebrating with the new World Champion, maybe they’re even repulsed by this debacle of debacles.

On the outside of the ring Nathan has Savior by the clothe of his shirt, demanding to know what he just did. Savior shrugs his shoulders, trying to pull himself free and insisting that he “wished” he had done it. In the rafters Riggs’ head hangs in shame, disgusted by what is transpiring in the ring. Robin steps towards the ropes with the World Title in hand, holding it above her head and looking as excited as someone who just ate her body weight in sugar.

Comeau: Who has cost Johnny Kingdom the World Title tonight? Who is behind this…..

Before anymore statements can be made Orlando Cruze comes barreling towards the ring. He steps around Nathan and his old rival Savior, ordering them BOTH to the backstage area under threat of suspension. Creed tries to argue his point but Orlando won’t hear it, he’s already on his way to the ring, looking ENRAGED.

Mark: New president Orlando Cruze interjecting himself into this madness. I have to say that this is the most chaotic close to a Riot! I’ve ever seen.

Robin steps towards the center of the ring, looking down at the World Title draped over her forearms, almost crying as the magnitude of her victory sinks in. Just as she moves her lips to the gold plate the belt is snatched out of her hands, and instead of looking at her reflection in the polished surface she stares into the vengeful eyes of Orlando Cruze.

Orlando: No, HEELLLLL no. This ain’t happening.

Brooks lunges desperately for the title but Orlando places his hand to her shoulder, holding her back. He keeps the belt out of her grasp while EMTs slide into the squared circle and come to the aid of an unconscious Kingdom. Orlando grabs the steel pipe stained with Kingdom’s blood from the canvas then shakes it in Robin’s face.

Cruze: Were you behind this? Huh? HUH!?!

Robin: Of course I wasn’t, I’m the World Champion, give me my belt.

Orlando: I don’t think so. I don’t know who’s World Champion right now, but it sure isn’t you.

Orlando continues to keep the belt out of Robin’s reach.

Comeau: Orlando vowing that Robin is NOT the World Champion, but who is then? Does the belt go back to Kingdom? And who attacked the Team Leader? Was it Riggs, was it Christian Savior, was it Nathan Creed? WHO!?! This has to be the most confusing close to a show ever!

Robin looks on the verge of exploding but instead her reaction isn’t what the people are expecting. A grin extends across her face and she cackles like a maniac. She lowers her face into her palm, still laughing through grating teeth.

Robin: FINE! But I’m STILL making good on my vow.

Orlando could care less what she’s saying, his mind is far too preoccupied with the chaos surrounding the World Title. On his first night as president he’s left with the toughest decision any owner must make, what to do with the championship.

THE ABDUCTION

Paris: So should we wait for her any longer?

Katie: Nah, we’ve waited long enough, she wouldn’t want us to risk loosing this precious cargo.

Katie Steward and Paris Dannon linger around the open trunk to their rent-a-car, deliberating amongst themselves.

Mmmm, MMMMM….

Steward: Shut up swine!!

The vindictive demand is directed at the bound and gagged Katelyn Buehler. She struggles to speak with the tape over her mouth and desperately tries to free her hands from the rope pinning her wrists together. Steward leans towards the trunk in order to speak plainly to Buehler.

Katie: You saw what I did to Robin, and I actually like her, so just imagine what I’m capable of doing to YOU.

Just as Katelyn begins to wiggle out of the trunk, Paris slams it shut, trapping her inside.

Katie: Robin will catch up with us. Now let’s get the hell out of here.

A consensus is reached and the two hop into the car, Paris behind the driver’s seat and Katie in the shotgun position. They speed out of the building, Buehler left at the mercy of the Brat Pack.

FADE TO BLACK