OPENING VIDEO PACKAGE
The fans are shown throwing their hands into the air in slow motion, caught in different colors, with the feed freezing every so often on a crazed spectator’s features, exhilarated by what they are witnessing. It then cuts to aerial scenes of the city streets below with cars buzzing by an arena in fast motion.
If you feel so empty
So used up so let down
If you feel so angry
So ripped off so stepped on
You're not the only one
Refusing to back down
You're not the only one
So get up
The fans are again shown going even more crazy with their fists held up high, the camera freezing on a clinched set of digits, as it turns from normal color to a black and white hue. It then switches to Bitchcakes McPhee standing on the stage with a beer in one hand a large smile plastered on his face before cutting to an aerial view with stop motion footage of hundreds of fans waiting in line to get into the building.
Let's start a riot, a riot
Let's start a riot
Let's start a riot, a riot
Let's start a riot
Scenes cut from the crazed fans in the stands to deranged mobs throwing Molotov cocktails down the street with burning rags stuck out of the top of the bottles. It switches quickly to AWOL’s fierce face glaring forward maliciously before shifting to Aurora Rose standing on the turnbuckle, pointing out over the fans with a large smile on her face. It then cuts to Jackson Adams giving an opponent the Spectacular Ending before shifting to an explosion rocking through a building while it crumbles and collapses to the ground. Desolation is then featured jumping off the top of a cage roof with a shooting star press.
If you feel so filthy so dirty
so fucked up
If you feel so walked on
So painful so pissed off
You're not the only one
Refusing to go down
You're not the only one
So get up
Police are shown gathered in a straight line with shields held out in front of them, dressed in all riot gear while marching down the street. The video then switches to Calvan Greene running the back of his fingers down his abs. Thankfully the images transfer to Too Magnificent bashing someone over the head with a trash can before cutting to Nathan Creed maliciously glaring about his surroundings. Another image features Orlando Cruze standing on the stage and raising his arm above his head, as pyros explode on all sides of him. This image is short lived as people are featured being detained, cuffs slapped around their wrists while being forced into the back of large police vans.
Let's start a riot, a riot
If you feel so empty Let's start a riot, a riot
Let's start a riot
Let's start a riot, a riot
Let's start a riot
So used up, so let down
If you feel so angry
Just get up
Let's start a riot
Let's start a riot, a riot
Let's start a riot
Robin Brooks takes up the screen diving off the top rope with a moonsault and coming crashing down stomach first towards the camera that was aimed upwards to catch a glimpse of her in all of her acrobatic splendor. The package then showcases Chapel delivering the Cardinal Sin while surrounded by a steel cage before shifting to a bloodied smiling face of Psycho, his dementia clear within his wide deranged eyes. Adam Riddick is featured flying through the air with a frog splash, soaring gracefully. Police are shown beating some looter with their night-sticks until Icarus Strange takes over the screen, hitting the Skeleton Key on someone. Pat Evans is then the focus of intention, ripping at a victim’s ankle with a tough, yet textbook submission. That’s before images are shown of Jon Rich delivering a missile dropkick as well as Orlando giving the Rock Bottom on Desolation. It then switches abruptly to David Miller dropping Nobu-kun right on his head with a vicious piledriver on the stage. It cuts to Cody Mitchell stringing his guitar with a pleasant expression plastered on his humble face. River Angelus and Shawn Logan are featured standing side by side in the ring doing a rather comical tag team pose before it cuts to a burning building, people running out of the flaming structure with stolen goods.
Let's start a riot, a riot
Let's start a riot
Let's start a riot, a riot
Let's start a riot
Hurse is featured on top the shoulders of the Alpha Generation while holding the World Heavyweight title above his head. Abruptly the video switches to Psycho delivering the Psychotic Episode on one of his many victims before transitioning into an image of Roxas Knoxx taking out a large group of people with the use of her own body as a weapon. Axl Evermore takes up the screen delivering a superkick to his opponent’s jaw before cutting to Pat Evans holding onto the fujiwara. The video switches to Christian Savior standing in a hallway with light hitting him from behind, almost enveloping him as a result.
RIOT!
The camera comes live to the inside of the arena where the fans are going absolutely insane, fireworks exploding from the stage and all around the titontron. Showers of pyro come down over the ring and the entry way which further excites the Manhattan audience. They are on their feet, all the while putting their hands together and screaming as Riot! is officially kicking off this evening, just a week removed from the biggest pay-per-view event yet, Breathless. The excited, anxious vocals of Dan Douglas can be heard in the background, his voice displaying just how pumped he is for tonight’s telecast.
Dan Douglas: Welcome one and all to the final stop before IWC Breathless, one of the biggest pay-per-view events in IWC history, seeing as we’ve only had one other one. This is Riot!, and your listening to Dan Douglas as well as Bil…..
There is a House in New Orleans
They call it the Rising Sun
And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy
And God I know I’m One...
The reaction from the crowd is not that of excitement any longer but of bitterness and anger, their ears forced to endure the sound of the World Champion’s entrance music. That only means their eyes will shortly have to behold the site of the cowardly fiend who was abducted last week by a gaggle of psychopaths.
Billy Mayne: Well, I was just about to express mild outrage over being cut off and not having the chance to properly introduce myself, thus giving people a reason to watch the show, but I don’t mind so much as its Hurse coming out here.
Douglas: Of course you wouldn’t, and I was actually planning on skimming over your introduction thank you. I’m actually surprised Hurse would be coming out here considering what happened to him last week, when we saw Chapel, Psycho and Killjoy commandeer his limo, trapping him inside and then drive off God only knows where. We didn’t get an update on his medical condition these past few weeks.
Mayne: Maybe that’s just what he’s about to give us, but how much damage can the three of them actually do to Hurse? I find their threat to be laughable at best.
Just as soon as Billy completes his audacious comment Hurse is pushed via wheelchair through the curtains, Desolation standing over his back grasping the handles. The only clear indicator that its Hurse would be the World title placed on his lap, as every inch of his body, besides his eyes, are covered by bandages, layers upon layers of them. He seems to be in a full body cast with a small slit provided for his eyes, as well as one present so that a straw can get to his lips, which is the only way he can drink his meals. A fashionable blue robe hangs over his bandaged, cast concealed body while the Dark Man has a lowered head, guilt ridden over the condition of his Alpha Generation comrade.
Douglas: You were saying Billy?
Mayne: I can’t believe this, I don’t want to believe this. What have they done to poor defenseless Hurse, those animals! Those savage bastards, did they show him no mercy?
Dan: Considering Hurse’s history of past abuse against all three of those men, I highly doubt any of them showed him the least bit of mercy no matter how much he begged, and knowing our despicable World Champion he begged a lot.
Billy: Those bastards should be ashamed of themselves, how dare they commit these unspeakable acts against out World title holder. Have they no respect?
Douglas: Of course not.
Desolation is still shaking his head back and forth in a deeply saddened state while through the curtains behind him now strolls Jackson Adams and Too Magnificent, both men also have their craniums lowered. They don’t even look up to shoot egotistical glares in the direction of the fans while they accompany the shell of the individual that use to be their leader, and their teammate Desolation. Once all four men have reached the ringside area Desolation leaves the wheelchair with Hurse inside at ringside and motions for Adams and Too Magnificent to enter the squared circle. Too Mag seems to want to stay and make sure Hurse is comfortable before the Dark Man pie faces him and motions towards the ring. A fuming Too Magnificent breaths heavily but approaches the ring as ordered. Both members of the Alpha Generation slide into the ring while Jackson begins to shout at the fans to become quiet, a message needing to be delivered here. Too Magnificent just shakes his head while leaning against the turnbuckle with his forearms, clearly distressed by everything that has transpired over the past few weeks, including the loss of his job. Desolation has removed a microphone out from the back of his pants and slowly holds it up to Hurse’s mouth so he can speak through his bandages, no matter how much it pains him.
Mayne: Look at this, even after being savagely mauled by his Breathless opponent, his age old rival, and that sleazebag trying to steal his woman, the Champion still finds the strength to address his fans.
Douglas: Unfortunately that seems to be the case, but I’d hardly categorize it as a noble act.
Desolation holds his finger up to his lips while looking at the fans, demanding they be quiet as a groaning, gasping Hurse begins to talk into the mic held in front of his lips. His words sound gurgled and are uttered under great duress.
Hurse: Its times like this that I think about suing this company for not making things handicap accessible.
Desolation scowls in the direction of the stairs, no handicap ramp present for the Champion to reach the ring. Still in a very pain ridden state, gasping in anguish Hurse goes on.
Hurse: I bet all you monsters out there in the stands find this funny, you just think its hilarious what’s happened to me, the condition those three ghouls have left me in. I can hear you through all my bandages, all my stitches, even as puss mixed with blood oozes from my ears, I hear you laughing, I hear you chuckling and talking about how you’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. You people are no better than the disrespectful deviants that did this to me, three men who should be sitting in a jail cell for the devilish, hideous things they did to my oh so seductive skin. But no, nothing bad has happened to them, instead they’ll get everything they want. Including the one thing that means more to me in life than anything, and I’m not talking about Desolation….
The Dark Man shrugs his shoulders and tilts his head while nodding, agreeing with that last statement.
Hurse: No, I’m talking about something that I can’t even hold, that I can’t even embrace and feel, something that has meant so much to me virtually all my life, my World Heavyweight title belt. I can’t even lift it, I can’t even put it over my shoulder and feel the cold gold with my elegant fingers because I’ve become just as deformed as the culprits behind this savage, unprovoked attack on me.
Abruptly Hurse has to stop talking, becoming too choked up as tears stream from his eyes and down his bandages. Desolation wishes to sympathetically pat him on the shoulder but realizes it would just provide further anguish for the Champion.
Hurse: They’ve taken everything away from me with their hideous assault. Robin will never be able to look at me the same way again, I’ll no longer be able to face myself in the mirror if these bandages ever come off, and I’ll never, ever be able to step foot into that ring and compete for all you savages again.
Boos come from the confused crowd as the Master of Control just continues to weep at the thought of his career being ended.
Mayne: Do you have a spare tissue?
Douglas: Just use your tampons Billy, they’re absorbent. I can’t believe Hurse is out here actually expecting us to feel sorry for him after all he’s done to deserve this.
Billy: Your just as heartless as the three people behind this, and I use the word “people” loosely in reference to Psycho, Killjoy and Chapel.
Once the tears have ceased to flow Hurse finds the strength to speak once again.
Hurse: My career is over as a result of what happened to me, and as thus Chapel has gotten exactly what he wanted. He knew, just like Psycho and Killjoy and everyone else in the world knew, that he couldn’t beat me in a fair one on one match for this World Heavyweight Championship. That’s why he did this to me, that’s why he got his buddies together to beat me within an inch of my life. Therefore I’ve come here tonight to tell him that he’s got what he wanted, that he’s won this war, and that later tonight, in the main event, I will bestow the World Heavyweight Championship onto him.
Everyone in the arena starts to go nuts over this prospect, Hurse forced to relinquish the title onto someone they deem to be slightly more deserving and less of an overall piece of feces.
Mayne: I hope Chapel is happy.
Douglas: Actually, I imagine that he is quite pleased with himself.
Billy: Because he wins the title on a technicality? What a piece of fecal matter.
Hurse is in so much physical and emotional pain that it’s almost indescribable as he remains seated in his expensive wheelchair, trying to hold his unstable and bandaged frame up. Desolation is shaking his head in clear distress over what happened to the World Champion, still holding the microphone up to the hole in his bandages for him to speak.
Hurse: So there, you got what you wanted Chapel, you ended my career and stole my World title without even having to step into the ring with me. I bet your so proud and pleased of yourself, you and all those other crazy bastards you associate with. Go ahead, keep reveling in the fact that you ended my career, but just know that none of this would have happened, should somebody have been doing their damn job! That’s right, besides you Chapel, you Killjoy, and you Psycho, there’s another person to blame for this, one man I blame more than anyone else, and his name is Too Magnificent!
Everyone in the building responds with confusion, many arched eyebrows and generic shrugged shoulders going up. Too Magnificent looks equally as confused, twisting around with his arms thrust out to his sides, not sure what he’s being blamed for. Before an explanation can be given by the Champion he finds himself in too much pain to continue talking, Desolation instead taking the mic away from his mouth and rolling into the ring.
Douglas: Too Magnificent is to blame for all of this? How in the world does that make the slightest bit of sense.
Mayne: I knew he had something to do with this, I just knew it, his hair was combed differently.
Dan: That hardly would not hold up in court, Billy, none of this makes the slightest bit of sense.
Desolation stands up straight and makes his way towards a still bewildered Too Magnificent, thrusting the microphone up to his lips with no emotion present behind his ghostly eyes.
Desolation: Don’t stand there and try to look stupid, believe me, you don’t have to try. You know why you’re the one on trial here, staring down the barrels of your executioner, so don’t attempt to play games with me. If you had simply beaten Orlando Cruze, and done so with a little more zest, you would have been there to protect Hurse, instead of sitting on the mats crying like a twelve year old girl who just bled all over her brand new panties. You’ve been weighing us down since day one, failing to do almost everything you’re told to, accomplishing a big fat zero in your tenure with this company. A trend that continued last week when you lost to Orlando Cruze, when you brought down and disrespected the name of the Alpha Generation. Although it was kind of a generic name to begin with, but that’s beside the point. You didn’t beat Orlando, and it distracted Hurse enough to let his guard down, so I hope your happy, I hope your pleased.
Absolute confusion is present on Too Magnificent’s face, twisting his head and shrugging his shoulder just as generically as the gathered fans. He seems to have no earthly idea what Desolation is talking about, how he’s the one to blame for all of this.
Desolation: As I look into your eyes, besides seeing a brain that barely functions, I see that you’re delighted. Instead of being full of dread like the rest of us, you’re standing with glee in your heart. You’re happy because once again you leaned on the Alpha Generation as a crutch, you used us to save your job just like you’ve been doing all this year. Even while injured, sitting in his hospital bed with me kicking Robin Brooks out of his room so I could hold his straw up to his lips while he drank his morning pancakes, he was able to work his usual brand of magic to get your job back. He deliberated constantly with one of those nice bosses of ours, and after she spat out a cunt hairball, she was gracious enough to bring you back. Even though I lectured him endlessly on how ignorant a move it was, he refused to lose faith in you, he got you reemployed.
Too Magnificent shakes his head and lowers his eyes from Desolation while Jackson Adams leans back first against a corner, watching this with his arms crossed over his chest in disgust. That’s when Desolation slaps Too Magnificent hard to the side of his face, causing his features to become blood red.
Desolation: You look into my eyes when I’m talking to you Too Mag. Or are you too much of a talentless pussy to do that too? I wouldn’t doubt it considering the sheer amount of times you’ve let everyone down and proved to be as worthless as I always thought you were. I don’t know why Hurse still has faith in you, your pathetic in every conceivable way. It’s because of your tendency to suck that I’m going to make you earn that contract. Do you hear me, is that sinking through to your tiny brain Too Magnificent, or are you thinking about fornicating in a garbage can?
Desolation thrusts his index finger against Too Magnificent’s temple repeatedly, causing him to almost lose his balance. He is breathing heavier than ever now while he controls his emotions.
Dan: Now this really is pathetic, the way they’re treating a man who’s been with them since almost day one.
Mayne: I think they’re perfectly in the right here. Too Magnificent has been an abysmal waste of space this past year of his association with Desolation and the Alpha Generation.
The color of Too Mag’s skin has become a dark claret, his cheeks swaying back and forth as they tremble. Desolation doesn’t back down though, he steps closer to Too Magnificent and slaps him to the cheek once more.
Desolation: I said look at me dammit! Look in my eyes you walking disappointment! I want you to watch these words come from my mouth so that they finally sink in. You don’t deserve to be a member of the Alpha Generation, all you are is our bitch for now on. You’re the new version of that guy with the blond flattop who constantly ripped off Brock Lesnar’s gimmick. And you can start being our bitch by dropping to your knees and licking my boots clean. Get down on your fucking knees and do it!
There seems to be a moment of hesitation from Too Magnificent who is taking deep breaths, debating his options, rather he should humiliate himself by licking Desolation’s shoes clean or not. A furious Desolation steps in and again slaps him to the cheek before grabbing him by the hair and forcing his massive frame down to his knees in front of him. His finger lunges down towards his already spotless wrestling boots.
Desolation: Clean them or I swear to God you’ll live to regret it. Do it if you want to keep your job and continue to have any association with us.
The fans are all booing over what they’re witnessing while Too Magnificent remains on his knees, pondering what he should do, breathing very uneasily. Finally he begins to bend forward and extend his tongue out through his teeth while Desolation stands up straight, continuing to look angry and very unhappy.
Desolation: That’s right, do the only thing your good at. Do what you were made for, because it sure as hell wasn’t wrestling. And after your done making those boots clean, you can wash my toilet backstage with your fucking lips.
That’s when Too Magnificent rises back to his knees and shoots a scowl in Desolation’s direction. The Dark Man finds his stare to be humorous at best, a grin coming to his face. Jackson nods his head while stepping out of the corner, pleased to be watching his partner take a stand against Desolation. On the outside of the ring Hurse’s eyes can be seen filling with hatred.
Desolation: Oh, what’s this now, have you grown a backbone, or an erection at the thought of a garbage can?
Too Magnificent no longer rests on his knees, forcing himself up to his feet and burning a hole into Desolation’s forehead with his penetrating glare. A slight grin remains on Desolation’s face at the sight of this while Too Magnificent continues to stand there boiling over with animosity.
Billy: No, no, get back down on your knees Too Magnificent, don’t do something stupid.
Douglas: It’s about time, I’m glad to see him finally stand up to these Alpha Generation oppressors.
Desolation looks Too Magnificent up and down, increasingly amused by his behavior.
Desolation: What, do you want to keep your job? You don’t want to stay a member of the Alpha Generation? You want to become just another faceless, irrelevant opponent like Orlando Cruze?
Sharply and suddenly Desolation finds his wrist gripped within Too Magnificent’s massive palm, pulling the microphone towards his shaky lips.
Too Magnificent: You know, I actually respect Orlando Cruze than either you, or Hurse!
Those crammed into the building stand and scream at the sound of this while Desolation shakes his head, momentarily saddened by Too Magnificent’s ridiculous misplacement of respect.
Too Magnificent: He was right when he told me that I was only being used, and then ultimately left abused by you two. I’m sick of being treated like some animal, used to constantly do your bidding, to take care of the opponents you don’t have to the balls to step into the ring with. I’m fed up, and I’m not going to sit here and tolerate any of it any longer, and if that means I lose my job than so be it!
Desolation chuckles as he pulls his wrist away from Too Mag’s grasp and then is grabbed by the throat. The entire arena is on its feet, jumping in excitement as Too Magnificent prepares to chokeslam Desolation, the Dark Man laughing to himself as a result.
Douglas: Do it, do it Too Magnificent, put Desolation in his place. Well, hell would be the only rightful place for him, I understand he’s even got his own little place in hell reserved, it’s a nice little condo overlooking the molten lava pits.
Mayne: That wouldn’t last, Desolation would just Curb Stomp Satan and take over. But don’t do what your thinking here Too Magnificent, just take your lickens before its too late.
An outraged Too Magnificent takes hold of Desolation’s back while he lifts the microphone to his lips.
Desolation: That’s right, do it, come on, do it! You might as well as do something right in your career.
Too Magnificent lifts Desolation into the air, the Dark Man not even trying to counter it before Jackson Adams delivers a clubbing blow right over his own partner’s back. The shot causes Too Mag to drop Desolation onto his feet and back away, shaking his head as if disgusted that the AG member couldn’t even do that right. Jackson grabs hold of Too Magnificent’s arms, spinning him around as he tucks his head between his shoulder blades and drops into the unprettier, planting his former friend’s face right against the canvas. Too Magnificent rolls away from Jackson, holding his forehead in severe pain while Desolation steps towards the cables and slips through them. He drops onto the outside mats and lifts the ring tarp before reaching under it and removing a steel chair. He tosses it over the ropes to the inside of the ring as Jackson catches hold of it, turning towards Too Mag who has already pushed himself up to a single knee, trying to stand up. Before he can get up Jackson swings the chair viciously into the top of his head, perhaps cracking open his skull.
Douglas: No, why are you doing this Jackson? Why?
Mayne: At least we know where his alliances still rest, with the Alpha Generation, as he beats down this usurper.
Dan: There is no honor amongst thieves.
That last shot with the steel chair has knocked Too Mag onto his back, claret already dribbling from a small gash that was stitched up in his scalp. Desolation rolls under the ropes to the inside of the ring and then demands that Jackson hold the chair up and do the same to Too Magnificent. Although bandaged a clear view of pleasure can be seen in the eyes of the World Champion, watching as the man he personally blames for the end of his career is being decimated by his teammates. Jackson grabs hold of Too Magnificent’s head, sitting him up then holding the chair out in front of his face. It’s perfectly positioned as Desolation stomps his foot then turns, swinging with a brutal buzzsaw kick right into the steel, driving into Too Magnificent’s skull and causing the fans to react with shock and disgust. They cover their mouths at the sound of the steel bashing against Too Mag’s face, almost taking his head off in the process. The former AG member falls onto his back, his eyes glossed over as they stare upwards into the heavens, his skull possibly caved in by that last shot from the steel.
Douglas: My God no! They may have just injured Too Magnificent severally with that blow to his skull from the chair. Desolation just maliciously kicked that steel into the face of a man we thought was on good terms with him.
Mayne: If Desolation does this to one of his friends, just imagine what he’s going to do to Jon Rich at Breathless.
The chair is lowered and placed over Too Magnificent’s head now while Desolation nods in Jackson’s direction then starts towards one of the turnbuckles. He slips through the ropes and begins to scale the corner while Jackson continues to hold the chair over the face of the completely laid out Too Magnificent. On the outside of the ring Hurse appears almost giddy beneath his bandages, tremendously excited at the prospect of what Desolation is about to do.
Mayne: Well, it was nice knowing Too Magnificent, actually it wasn’t, but that sounds like the type of thing I need to start practice saying with his funeral coming up.
Many of the fans are actually standing and begging Desolation not to do it as he climbs up onto the top rope, looking as if he’s about to fly through the air and double stomp the chair down into Too Magnificent’s face, crushing every bone in his skull in the process. Jackson looks up at him, nodding his head with a sick smile on his face when the crowd starts to scream wildly, everyone going nuts at the sight of Orlando Cruze and Nathan Creed rushing towards the ring, bandaged up themselves.
Mayne: What the hell is this? Why are these guys coming out here? Shouldn’t they keep their nose in their own damn business as if they don’t have enough to be worried about already.
All those in the building are still going nuts as Desolation and Jackson turn, spotting the arrival of the Icon and the Future, then vacating the ring immediately afterwards. They drop to the outside mats with quickness, leaving behind Orlando and Creed who have come out to the aid of Too Magnificent for who knows what reason. Desolation makes around the ring, glaring to the inside at his former pupil with an emotionless expression, not liking the sight of him whatsoever. He steps towards Hurse who is scowling through his bandages at the man he and Desolation screwed over at Paranoia IV. Orlando steps to the side of the laid out Too Magnificent, bending forward and checking on his condition, actually sympathetic towards his rival. Creed steps up onto one of the turnbuckles, motioning for Desolation and Adams to re-enter the ring and to bring Hurse with them. However, Desolation is wheeling Hurse up the ramp and a smirking Jackson Adams just shakes his head in the direction of the ring. Orlando is still staring down into the bloodied, incoherent face of Too Magnificent, patting him on the chest.
Douglas: Orlando Cruze coming out here as part of some mutual respect for Too Magnificent. I find it commendable that he buried his hatred of Too Mag to come out here to his aid.
Mayne: I find it stupid. He’s already got so many people out to brutalize him and Creed, now he’s just further drawing the ire of the Alpha Generation.
COMMERCIAL BREAK
NOW ON DVD
KEEPING THE PEACE
The camera comes back to the ring as a bloodied Too Magnificent is being assisted to his feet by both Orlando Cruze and Nathan Creed, the two men almost abnormally sympathetic to his plight. With his arms draped over their shoulders he’s assisted around the ring, that kick to the chair that was positioned in front of his face scrambling his noggin aworse than it had been from years of bloodbaths, and just plain dementia.
Douglas: Welcome back ladies and gentlemen, and as you can see, Orlando Cruze and Nathan Creed still assisting Too Magnificent to the back. These three may not see eye to eye, but they’ve respected one another for years based off the wars they’ve had against each other, and the sheer amount of time they’ve dedicated to making this company survive.
Mayne: None of this makes the slightest bit of sense, wake me up when this segment is over, actually, just poke me with a stick and alert me when the whole show has concluded.
Dan: Like you actually need an excuse to sleep through the shows.
Orlando and Nathan continue to assist the man they warned about this incident months ago, but now provide crutches for him as he’s assisted towards the ramp, that’s when
"And I aint gonna be just a face in the crowd...
You're gonna hear my voice when I shout it out loud...
”It’s my Life” by Bon Jovi hits the PA system and causes the crowd to rise to their feet, screaming in outrage over these lyrics. Some of the fans still scream praises towards Riddick, while the rest are disgusted at the mere thought of his tag team partner and brother Christian. Through the curtains marches both those men, Adam not riding his usual motorcycle down the ramp on this occasion, as he stands side by side with his brother Christian. Pinned between them both is Kassie with her hand on her husband’s shoulder, staring down the ramp with almost a look of despair while Riddick tries to show no emotion at the sight of either Orlando or Nathan. The stare they’re receiving from both the Icon and the Future is that of uncontrolled rage, complete and utter fury at the sight of the two men who savagely assaulted them last week. Orlando can still feel the pain coursing through his lacerated and crudely bandaged forehead, the same can be said for Nathan, who breaths heavily with great intensity.
Douglas: Oh man, I can’t believe these two guys have the audacity to come out here after what they did just last week, rather its time for their match tonight or not.
Mayne: Christian Savior and Adam Riddick are not going to back down from either Orlando or Nathan. They don’t fear the men they assaulted last week, and will assault again at Breathless.
Dan: We might not have to wait to see another bloodbath between both these teams, Billy. It looks like they’re about to clash right now.
Both the Icon and the Future continue to fume at the sight of both Riddick and Savior who begin to step forward with the X-Class title glistening over Christian’s shoulder and a microphone tucked behind his back. As they move down the ramp a swarm of off duty police officers charge through the curtains, dressed from head to toe in riot gear. They surround Adam, Christian and Kassie, forming a protective barrier with nightsticks gripped in their hands, batting them against their open palms. Their faces can’t be seen beneath their glass face plates as Savior chuckles, looking around at them while Adam just scowls as a result of this, not knowing that this was planned at all.
Douglas: Oh come on, what is this crap now?
Mayne: Security surrounding Christian and Adam, keeping them from dishing out further punishment on Orlando and Creed.
Dan: Oh please, we all know that these guards are here to keep Orlando and Creed from getting their hands on these despicable bastards.
Orlando and Creed have stopped completely in their tracks while still holding up a barely conscious Too Magnificent, who may have to compete later tonight still. Savior and Riddick move towards the ring now with security still surrounding them, one of the greatest IWC tag teams debating rather they should get into a brawl with the men who assaulted them regardless of rather they’re under protection and rather they’re keeping Too Magnificent held up. They continue to stand there, debating their options as Savior and Riddick move closer to them with security still gathered around them, forming a wall between the two teams who have become staunch rivals over a matter of a few short weeks. Its obvious that the paused Nathan and Orlando are still debating diving right in there and forcing their way through security to get their hands on the former SCW stars. Just as Cruze begins to step out from under Too Mag’s arm and move towards his adversaries, Savior pulls the microphone out from behind his back and lifts it to his lips.
Savior: Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up there stud, we’re just here to compete in our match tonight….
The more that Savior talks the more Orlando is aggravated enough to dive through those guards and get his hands around his throat. Christian holds his finger up into the air though, calling for Cruze to think for a moment before he acts.
Christian: Just calm down little fella, think before you try to get through these guards that Sallie and Krissie forced on us. Ask yourself, do you really want to get your ass kicked again on a night your suppose to be fighting in a tag team tournament? Considering the fact that you receive few to any title shots whatsoever, and believe me, you won’t get anymore after this with Sallie and Krissie as your bosses, is it really in your best interest to go into your match with Chapel and Psycho a little more banged up than you already are?
Creed is shaking he’s so angry at the sight of the two men who so viciously brutalized him on the last Riot! He’s almost allowing it to get the best of his better judgment, yet he allows Christian to explain further before creating a scene.
Savior: Oh, and did I forget to mention that our oh so lovely bosses have declared that if either your team or our team lay a finger on one another tonight, then we’ll be kicked out of the tag team tournament, and we will not be facing each other at Breathless.
Creed regrets allowing Christian to finish his statement, as he’s just become even more furious than before. Orlando on the other hand is plotting, deciding rather its worth getting kicked out of the match or not just for one chance to put his hands on Savior.
Douglas: I can’t believe this, I can’t believe Sallie and Krissie’s weasely ways, keeping both Creed and Cruze from getting their hands on the men who left them lying last week in worse shape than I’ve ever seen them before.
Mayne: It’s smart strategy Dan, you don’t want any of these two teams to hurt each other just a week removed from Breathless.
Dan: Well, I guess that’s true.
Mayne: I’m always right, besides, injuries should wait for the match, not before it.
A bloodied Too Mag mumbles something in between his gargled, deep breaths, Orlando nodding as he steps back under the big man’s arm. He and Creed assist their fellow veteran to the backstage area while Savior watches them leave with a nod of his head and a chuckle. All the while Riddick scowls down in his direction, shaking his head and talking to Kassie, who tries to convince Adam to calm down, to relax, not to do anything he might regret. He finds it increasingly difficult as he watches Christian condescendingly wave goodbye to both Orlando and Creed, who try not to even look back at the two men they’ve grown to despise. Instead they keep moving up the ramp towards the backstage area, forcing themselves towards the back in order to preserve the well being of Too Magnificent. Adam then slaps his brother on the back of his head, Savior rubbing at his cranium and shooting an angry expression in the direction of his brother.
FULLY LOADED VS. ADAM RIDDICK & CHRISTIAN SAVIOR
Adam and Savior move past security, leaving Kassie at ringside as she blows a kiss to her husband, the security clothed all in riot gear remaining around the ring.
Douglas: Well, I guess we’re scheduled for the first tag team tournament match of the evening, I just wish it didn’t mean we’d have to endure the sight of Christian Savior, and to a lesser extent Adam Riddick.
Mayne: You don’t think Orlando or Nathan would have done the same thing to Christian and Adam if they had the chance? Of course they would, those two men would stab anyone in the back if it meant they’d get title shots and be moved right back up the ladder. Besides, let’s concentrate on what matters here Dan, what should be an agile, technical, hard hitting tag team match to open tonight’s huge show.
Dan: For once I’ll try not to be the bias one.
NO MORE SCREWING AROUND...IT'S TIME TO GET VICIOUS!
"Church of Hot Addiction" by Cobra Starship hits over the PA system as the lights flash green, gold, white, and black. MAX, wearing his UWF Deadly Games Title, emerges from the back, wearing his Fully Loaded team jacket and black wraparound shades with green lens. Upon reaching the middle of the stage, he unsnaps his belt and raises it into the air with both hands, triggering a red-and-white laser light show that circles the arena.
Cobra Starship: Hey hey hey, my body's ELECTRIC...
MAX slings his belt over his shoulder as he confidently picks up the pace and heads to the ring with nothing but focus in his vivid green eyes behind his lens. Upon reaching the ring he momentarily hesitates as two officers step in front of him, staring at him through their tinted protective face plates. MAX gives them a crude glare but then shoves his way through them, he climbs the steps, places the belt across the near corner, and then grabs the ropes and slings himself in with a front rolling rope spring. He lands perfectly on his feet, then takes his belt off the corner, climbs it, and raises it high and proud, shouting "DEADLY GAMES!", getting some cheers from that. He climbs down, takes off his jacket and shades, and hands them and the belt to the ref to place away, then jogs in place at the opposite corner to wait for the start of the match as the music fades out with one final strain of...
Hey hey hey, my body's ELECTRIC...
MAX stares towards Christian and Riddick who are shaking their heads, obviously not impressed by the stature of their stout opponent.
Douglas: Here’s a man with a little more class than either of his opponents….
Mayne: He does porn.
Dan: That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have class. He’s also shown himself to be a very impressive in ring talent over the past few months as well, putting on some incredible matches as of late.
Billy: Yeah, but being impressive doesn’t necessarily mean you have what it takes to win, as Savior and Riddick will gladly demonstrate here tonight.
A booming voice sounds over the PA, with one of those swooshing sound effects that build to a crescendo.
"You know who I AM, where I've BEEN, where I'm GOING, how I'll GET there...and all that's left is to tell you's that I'm finally HERE!"
The feed fades to the Tron video, and as the lead singer for Drowning Pool screams the opening "1, 2, 3, STEP UP!!" to their song "Step Up", a name is spelled out on the black video background in bold red Sofachrome font letters: Axl Evermore. In between some of the letters, a split-second of classic Evermore-in-action impact clips are shown. It fades to a front view of the stage, with Evermore looking down on one knee, arms outstretched like he just landed from a jump. Sallie Roma, his wife, stands right behind him, her body looking like a well-proportioned X with her arms raised out and her head raised towards the heavens. He stands up, as she sidesteps him in a graceful spin to kneel in front of him, and he RVD's a thumbs pose as she does the same, looking up at him.
He looks downwards at her, mouths some instructions, and they head to the ring with stern focus and an energetic gait. He jumps and dives through between the middle and bottom ropes, tumbling forth into a hop, into a standing position at the center of the ring, while Sallie gracefully jogs around to her position in the support corner. He climbs a corner and thrusts his arms out like Bret Hart, shouting "King of Submission!" towards no one in particular. He hops down from the corner, takes his jacket and shades off, handing them over the ropes down to Sallie, then takes his bandanna off and throws it into the audience. Axl then stands at the ready, alternating between hopping place and standing in a crouch.
Mayne: Axl and MAX only have one thing going for them, and its not that Evermore assaulted a poor defenseless Hurse in his debut, oh no, it’s that Axl’s got a wife named Sallie, the same name as one of our bosses. That may curry them some favor from the head office.
Douglas: I highly doubt that coincidence will have any effect on their careers, what matters is there wrestling ability, in particular their tag team skills here this evening.
Billy: There you go again, sucking all the energy out of my clever dialogue with your usual stilted retorts. No one wants to hear that shit.
The crowd is putting their hands together at what can almost be called a tag team dream match as two of the best teams in the world prepare to square off here in the tag team tournament to start off Riot! Axl and MAX are trying to determine who’s going to start the match, attempting to do rocks, papers, scissors but constantly finding their hands ending up in the same positions, scissors vs. scissors, rock vs. rock, and paper vs. paper. They shrug and start up another game when a flabbergasted Savior and Riddick charge across the ring right at them, throwing fists at their faces. MAX turns and blocks Christian’s fist before beginning to rifle off with right hands repeatedly directly into Savior’s face, backing him up as a result. Riddick has his punch ducked by Evermore, who steps behind his back and waits for Adam to spin around. As soon as his opponent turns to face him he’s clocked to the face with a right hand, followed by another strike to the jaw, and then a third before Evermore does a juke and jive with his hips and finally delivers one last punch directly to Riddick’s face. The shot knocks his opponent down to the canvas across his back while Savior is knocked in reverse across the ring with punch after punch to the jaw. He almost loses his footing before MAX takes him by the wrist and attempts to whip him across the ring, however, Savior reverses, spinning around to face his wildly opponent, instead pulling him forward. Much to Christian’s dismay he’s hit with a short arm clothesline of sorts from MAX though, taking him right down to his back and forcing him to roll across the canvas to the outside of the ring. As Riddick gets to his feet he’s taken by the wrist from Evermore and whipped towards MAX who jumps into the air and spins around, connecting with a hard spinning heel kick to the face of his approaching opponent. The strike takes Riddick to the canvas and sends him rolling across the ring as well, spilling under the ropes to the outside.
Mayne: What the hell is this? MAX and Axl are dominating Savior and Riddick right here to start off this tag team tournament match. Did these guys eat their spinach this morning, or inject it straight into their veins?
Dan: I don’t find either option feasible. These guys are just renown talents and could see that sneak attack coming even if their eyes were gouged out after being forced to sit and watch hours of Everybody Loves Raymond.
MAX and Axl step forward and hit knuckles with one another while security builds a wall between the ring and Riddick and Savior. The two men seem to be discussing their gameplan, Adam constantly motioning to security, inferring that he can’t concentrate with this circus act at ringside. Savior finally just shakes his head and moves towards the ring, shoving his way through security then rolling under the ropes to the inside of the ring, leaving his brother at ringside to be consoled by Kassie. Christian stands up and points at MAX, demanding him to step forward and prove what he’s truly capable of. His desired opponent motions to himself and acts as if he’s confused, checking over his shoulders to make sure he’s the one being pointed to. The other half of Fully Loaded vacates the ring while shrugging his shoulders before Christian steps to the center of the ring, extending his arms outwards. MAX almost gladly steps in with a spring in his step as they interlock arms, beginning to jockey for positioning. With quickness Christian switches around under the arm of his opponent, placing him in an arm ringer but MAX quickly drops down into a forward roll across the canvas, then getting to his feet quickly. That’s when he bridges over backwards, placing the top of his head to the canvas while Savior is still holding onto his arm, bending forward as he attempts to maintain his grasp. That’s when MAX lifts his leg and places it to Christian’s wrist, kicking it away, causing him to stand up straight with his arms stuck out to his sides.
MAX slides across his back in a full circle then turns over onto his elbows and knees, crawling between Christian’s legs and then standing up behind him. With Savior still ducked forward in front of him, MAX steps to his side and wraps his arms around his neck, placing him in the side headlock submission hold. An irritated Christian is doubled over now as his neck is being gripped within MAX’s abnormally thick arms. Showing his in ring knowledge though, Christian slips his head free and in the process takes hold of MAX’s arm, tucking it around behind his back into the hammerlock. Sallie Roma is slapping the apron, shouting for the member of Fully Loaded to get out of this submission, to counter already while Riddick shouts at Christian to stop showing off and put him away. Christian uses the hammerlock to push MAX around into a spin, turning to face him now as Savior grabs hold of his other wrist, swinging under it and placing him in the arm ringer once again. MAX stomps his foot, becoming somewhat flustered over the fact that he seemingly can’t outwrestle his game opposition. Christian finds satisfaction in twisting at his opponent’s arm with all of his upper body power. Before he has time to do much further damage MAX ducks his head and drops down on top of it then flips off the top of his skull over onto his feet. He turns towards Savior, pulling him forward and reaching out with his leg, placing it around behind Christian’s and pushing him over backwards. Savior is tripped as he lands on his spine, yet keeps holding onto MAX’s wrist. This forces MAX to turn as he steps to Christian’s side and jump over his body, ducking his head as he rolls across the canvas. As Savior was holding onto his wrist he was pulled over onto his chest and stomach, MAX landing on his seat on the opposite side of his opponent and then breaking his wrist free from his grasp then leaning back as he applies the fujiwara. Christian is spread out on his chest and stomach with MAX seated with his back pressed against his ribs, gripping him tightly in this quick submission transition.
Douglas: A beautiful transition by MAX right into that fujiwara submission on Savior.
Mayne: Luck, pure unbridled luck. He’s luckier than George Bush when all those ballots were mysteriously lost in Florida.
Dan: Please try to update your material.
An intense MAX is still prying and ripping at the arm of Savior, who digs his fingernails into the canvas, trying to force himself out of this submission. He grunts and tries to power his way out of this hold before MAX transitions, trying to change the hold up into a crossface instead. As soon as he lets go of the arm, Christian ducks his head and rolls forward across the canvas, getting out of harms way while stepping towards his opponent, taking him by the ankle. He lifts up on it and rolls MAX over backwards onto his feet, stepping forward and taking hold of his wrist, swinging around under it as he places him in the arm ringer once again. The fans react with disgust, everyone booing at the sight of Savior getting back on the advantage by locking on the same submission he’s been tormenting MAX with repeatedly in this match. That’s when MAX once again counters by going over into a cartwheel right onto his feet then pulling Savior towards him, burying his shoulder into his gut. He drops back and throws Savior over him, causing him to crash onto his back while MAX turns towards him, twisting the wrist lock onto him and then folding his arm over backwards into a top wrist lock of sorts. MAX places his knee to Savior’s chest, holding him down while bending his arm over in reverse into this textbook submission. Riddick looks flabbergasted as he places his palm over his face, becoming very flustered and frustrated the longer Christian is being held down in this hold. MAX keeps his arm doubled over backwards into this submission before Christian begins to rock his body back and forth. He rocks right up onto his seat only for MAX to change the submission up from the top wrist lock over into the hammerlock, standing behind his back while clutching the submission in tightly.
Grunts and groans of anguish emanate from Christian the longer his arm is dissected in this hold, that’s when Savior twists his body and drops down onto his back. He lifts his legs into the air and places them to MAX’s chest, pushing him off with his feet. MAX is sent flying backwards, crashing into the canvas while Savior rolls in reverse onto his knees then dives forward at Riddick, slapping his hand, tagging him into the match.
Douglas: Riddick tagged into this match now, and he’s going right after MAX.
Mayne: Of course he is, that’s why he was tagged in. Jesus, how many times do you state the obvious in the course of one match?
Dan: However many times it takes to detract the fans from being forced to sit through your shitty biased dialogue.
MAX has gotten to his feet as Adam comes rushing in with a lariat only for him to duck it, rushing across the ring into the cables behind him. He bounces off and comes back in at Riddick who turns and ducks forward, only for MAX to spin with his spine aimed in his opponent’s direction. The quick MAX falls spine first onto the back of Adam who stands and almost reverse back drops him, the Fully Loaded member flipping over and landing on his feet behind Riddick. Before Adam even has time to turn around, MAX rushes forward with a quick kick right to the back of his knee, taking his legs out from beneath him. Riddick is sent crashing to the canvas while MAX turns towards him and jumps forward, going for a senton back splash across his chest. However, Adam rolls out of the way causing MAX to hit the canvas spine first then roll across it right onto his feet, turning towards the Renegade who is grasping hold of the cables, standing up with quickness. He turns towards MAX who steps in and delivers a reverse enzugari to his face, the impact knocking Riddick backwards, his arms falling through the cables and accidentally getting his arms tangled up in them. The fans react with cheers at the sight of Adam finding himself trapped in this position, unable to protect himself while MAX looks around at the fans who are screaming wildly. He grins then moves towards Axl, slapping his rather eager partner into this match.
He and MAX step towards the still prone Adam, who is fighting to free his arms from the cables. He can’t do it in time to stop both Axl and MAX as they step to opposite sides of him and begin to rifle off with repeated buzzsaw like kicks to both sides of his sternum. Each shot causes his legs to lunge upward into the air as he yells in pain. Finally Christian enters the ring to break this up, rushing right at Axl who turns in time to spot him, catching him with a huge back drop. Savior flies through the air when MAX turns to face him and catches him on his shoulders, dropping into a sit-out powerbomb. The collision drives Savior hard into the canvas, sending him rolling across the ring while the referee demands that MAX exit the ring. He holds his palms out innocently then vacates the squared circle as well while Axl has turned back towards Riddick, who with the assistance of Kassie has now freed his arms from the cables. He steps forward and drills Evermore right to the jaw with a closed fist then delivers a high knee directly to his mid-section that doubles him over. The Fully Loaded member reaches for his ribs while Riddick drives the top of his elbow down into the top of his head. The impact almost takes Evermore down, yet somehow he keeps his feet beneath him just long enough to be taken around the head and snapmared over seat first onto the canvas. As soon as he lands on his seat, Riddick kicks him hard to the back then rushes forward into the cables. He bounces off and comes back in for a running shot at his opponent only for Axl to suddenly roll over backwards onto his feet and dive forward with a twisting reverse elbow directly to Adam’s chest. This last diving move sends Adam hurling towards the canvas spine first, crashing off of it and then rolling to his elbows and knees.
Douglas: As soon as Axl tagged in he had Riddick at his mercy, and now Adam is right back in that prone position with Evermore breathing down the back of his neck.
Mayne: Adam is still feeling out his opponent, that’s all, it will be a matter of time before he finally gets the hang of how to properly counter and take down Evermore.
Dan: Of course you would say that, given your unhealthy obsession with those who break the rules. Are you Baby from Dirty Dancing?
Billy: Although I have done a seductive dance with a hoopskirt on, no, no, I am not.
Evermore steps towards Riddick, who is slowly rising to his knees, taking him around the neck in a side headlock submission. His thick arms squeeze at Adam’s skull as he forces himself to his feet then throws a forearm into his lower back, followed by another shot. The blows almost force Evermore to break the submission, but he fails to do so. Riddick throws another elbow only for Axl to perform a standing switch of sorts, catching hold of his opponent’s arm and pinning it behind his back, then trying to reach through it and wrap his arm about his throat with a crossface chickenwing. Riddick tries to fight it, but quickly finds himself locked in the submission, unable to escape until he forces himself backwards, as a result thrusting Evermore spine first against the corner. His arms fall over the ropes as he’s forced to break the submission, Adam stumbling forward out of the corner then turning towards him, getting a running start. He comes charging forward only to be hit with a boot right to the face from Evermore, the shot causing Riddick to stumble with a set of sporadically, awkwardly blinking eyes. He shakes his head while Evermore pulls himself up onto the turnbuckle in reverse, standing up on the second rope then diving forward. As he flies through the air though, Adam reaches out, catching him across his chest and spinning around into a hard powerslam, hooking his leg for the pin.
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Evermore kicks out, sitting up while Adam takes hold of his arm, folding it over backwards into the top wrist lock almost immediately. The Fully Loaded member sits up with his arm being bent over backwards into the submission, really holding onto it as he attempts to get a quick tap out perhaps. Axl refuses to submit as he drops in reverse onto his spine, trying to roll his way out of this hold only for Riddick to scoot forward, altering his submission into a short arm scissors out of nowhere. Adam has the hold perfectly established with his legs, using their immense power to twist at Evermore’s arms. An intense Evermore begins to twist his body from side to side, attempting to escape this submission hold before he swings his hips and rolls sideways in the direction of Evermore’s body. The large frame of Riddick is rolled over so that his face is pushed against the canvas with Evermore on his knees behind his posterior, still trying to keep the short arm scissors locked on. However, Axl frees his arm now, standing up then jumping forward. Just as Adam gets to his elbows and knees, Axl comes down with a double stomp right to the back of his head, driving him down face first into the canvas. The crowd reacts with cheers at the sight of this, Adam bouncing off the canvas then rolling onto his back as he covers his nose and his mouth with his palms.
He doesn’t have much time to recuperate as Axl steps towards him and grabs hold of Riddick’s hair, forcing him up to his knees then slapping on another side headlock submission, going back to the move he originally had applied to Riddick when this match started. An increasingly angered Adam takes Evermore around the waist and rushes him backwards into the cables, both men’s bodies hitting off the ropes and as they bounce off, Riddick shoves Axl away, freeing himself from the side headlock. But wait, as soon as he was forced to release the side headlock, Axl reached down, taking hold of Riddick’s wrist, turning to face him before he could be sent rushing into the opposite ropes. He grips hold of the wrist and pulls Adam forward into a short arm back elbow right to the face, sending Riddick collapsing hard to the canvas across his back. Evermore pulls on the wrist, forcing Adam up to his feet and then stepping to his side, locking on the headlock once more. The crowd puts their hands together at the sight of Evermore trapping Adam in this submission once more.
Mayne: Find another move to use already Axl.
Douglas: Why should he? This is effectively cutting off air and blood circulation to Riddick’s skull and keeping him from hitting of those explosive moves we’re use to seeing from him.
Billy: Well, all this technical wrestling is boring the crap out of me.
Again Adam charges backwards into the cables, pulling Evermore with him as they hit the ropes spine first. When they bounce off the flustered Renegade shoves Axl forward once more only to have Evermore counter the same way agin, taking hold of his wrist a second time. Evermore tugs on the wrist and comes charging forward for a short arm clothesline this time only to be caught across the sternum by Riddick, who grabs hold of the back of his lower attire. He hoists him into the air and delivers a uranagi back breaker right across his knee, Evermore shouting in pain as a result while Riddick keeps his arm draped across his sternum, standing him up straight. Axl is reaching for his spine in the process while he is stood up under a power that is not his own, Riddick then rushing into the cables back first in front of him before charging back in with a running STO. The momentum of the move almost sends Evermore flipping over in reverse as he crashes into the canvas hard spine first, Riddick quickly standing up, approaching his brother who he tags back into this contest. Christian slips through the ropes then quickly steps across the ring, dropping into the cover on Evermore, hooking his leg.
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Axl shoots his shoulder from the canvas, getting it up in the nick of time. As soon as he does though, Christian grabs hold of his pony tail, lifting up on his head then delivering repeated closed fists into his forehead. Each shot seems to increase Axl’s dazed, incoherent state before Christian drags on his hair, rolling him over onto his knees then stepping forward, placing him in a front chancery. He has him tightly clamped in the submission while forcing Axl to his feet then lifting him up into the air as he goes for the vertical suplex. That’s before Evermore floats over, twisting with his body to land on his feet right behind Christian who reaches in reverse, locking his arm around Axl’s head for his version of the diamond cutter. Before he can hit it, Axl pulls his head free and jumps into the air, front dropkicking him right to the upper-back. The shot causes Savior to stagger forward and fall throat first onto the second cable, his arms tumbling over the cable as well, just a few inches removed from the Fully Loaded corner. MAX steps forward across the apron then flips over into a senton leg drop right across the back of Christian’s head, causing the crowd to react with shock. Savior’s throat bounces off the ropes as he stands up gagging and turning towards Evermore who steps forward and launches his arm across the chest of his opponent. He seems to be setting up for a downward spiral before MAX jumps onto the top rope, springing off, flying through the air then dropkicking Savior to the upper back to add momentum to Evermore’s move. Axl falls in reverse, slamming Christian down face first into the canvas before rolling over in reverse with great quickness and agility. Evermore gets to his knees and interlocks his hands around the back of Christian’s head, standing up pulling Savior to his feet before dropping down into a jawbreaker. The collision of jaw with skull causes Savior to stand up and stagger in reverse, right into the waiting arms of MAX who takes him around the neck then drops down into a reverse neckbreaker. The back of Savior’s head crashes from the canvas, causing him to sit up as Evermore rushes in with a brutal running knee right to his face. Everyone in the building is putting their hands together at this insane series of combination moves from Fully Loaded.
Douglas: Move after move just hit on Savior, catching him from every conceivable direction.
Mayne: How many move did those guys just hit in synchronism? Oh well, I’m still not impressed. Now give me a set of bright shinny keys, then you’ll see how impressed I can be.
Evermore has hooked Christian’s leg, going for a pinfall after that last series of super impressive synchronized moves.
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The quick Savior shoots his shoulder from the canvas, kicking out just in time to keep himself and Riddick in this tag team tournament. Just as he turns over onto his elbows and knees though, Axl drops an elbow to his lower back for good measure, causing him to crash onto his chest and stomach. He then grabs Christian by the wrist and rolls across the canvas towards his corner, dragging Savior with him. As they reach the corner, Evermore extends his hand, tagging MAX in. The nimble MAX steps across the apron so that he’s standing just beside Christian on the opposite side of the ropes. MAX pulls himself over the cables, looking as if he’s about to deliver the double stomp but instead landing on his feet on the opposite side of Christian’s head then swiping his boot backwards nonchalantly right into the face of his opponent. The strike causes Savior to cover his skull while MAX steps forward, taking a bow to much praise from the sold out crowd. He then turns back towards Christian, who is utilizing the ropes to drag himself to his feet. He stands up straight in a very dazed state before MAX comes charging in at him, jumping into the air and landing on his shoulders for a hurricarana. With great quickness Adam turns to face the cables, placing his hands to the back of MAX’s thighs, pushing him over into a backwards flip. The nimble Fully Loaded member flips over the cables and comes crashing down face, chest, and stomach first right into the thin protective mats on the outside of the ring.
Mayne: Oh, hahahaha, that had to have been the nastiest landing I’ve ever seen!
Douglas: MAX taken out after attempting a hurricarana and instead eating the outside mats.
Billy: I wonder if it tastes like cardboard, I ate a lot of that as a kid.
Dan: Which explains so very much.
The crowd is still groaning while security has cleared out of the way, patting their batons against their palms menacingly at the sight of a slowly rising MAX. His hand is draped over his mouth, perhaps a few teeth cracked by that move while Christian has slid through the ropes onto the apron in front of him. With quickness Savior rushes across the apron and then dives off it, over the head of MAX who he catches around the neck, pulling down into a blockbuster neckbreaker of sorts. Again MAX finds his body hitting the mats with force, sitting up and wrapping his hands around the back of his neck in anguish. Sallie Roma is holding her hand over her mouth, shaking her head in shock over what she’s seeing while Christian takes hold of MAX’s hair, forcing him to his feet then gripping him by the wrist. Before MAX even has a chance to fight this, he’s whipped with full force across the ring face first right into the exposed turnbuckle post. He bounces off and tumbles backwards into security, who catch him around the waist, holding up then pushing him back towards Savior who meets him with a boot to the gut. Although he’s barely able to stand, Christian forces him towards the ring, rolling him in under the ropes then sliding in himself. He crawls forward, hooking MAX’s leg.
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Somehow MAX is able to kick out at the last second, keeping the hopes of his team alive in this tournament. An irate Christian sits up, breathing heavily, not liking the fact that he was unable to get the pinfall after those last couple moves he hit on his ever tough opponent. Adam and Kassie are shouting at Savior to stay on MAX, which he does by turning and lifting up on his legs, draping them over his shoulders while he leans forward into the back of his thighs, pushing him down into a pinning predicament.
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MAX gets his shoulder from the canvas once again, falling over onto his chest and stomach in pain before Savior takes hold of his hair, forcing him to his knees. He drags him towards his corner and tags in an anxious Riddick before holding MAX up, pinning his arms behind his back. This allows Adam to deliver a few right hands to his exposed mid-section and almost stomp away at his gut repeatedly before Christian bends forward, wedging his shoulder to the small of MAX’s back. He hoists him up into the air for what looks to be a back drop suplex with Riddick stepping in to add to the impact of the move in some way when MAX twists his body, countering by placing Savior in the front chancery. He extends his legs, which fall over top of Riddick’s shoulders then falls over sideways, pulling both his opponents to the canvas. Riddick and Savior are flipped over sideways, hitting the canvas hard while Kassie slaps the apron in anger over what she’s seeing.
Douglas: MAX scored with a huge counter that just took both his opponents out, now all he’s got to do is make the tag to keep his team in this tournament. He desperately needs that tag Billy.
Mayne: What’s the point, it’s only momentarily delaying the inevitable loss.
Dan: Could you be anymore cynical?
Billy: Maybe, if I were Desolation.
Riddick and Savior are scrambling to get to their feet while MAX drags himself to an upright base then goes charging across the ring towards his corner. He jumps into the air with an extension of his palm, looking for the tag to Evermore only for Riddick to stand up in front of him and catch MAX on his shoulder. He is holding him in a spinebuster position with MAX leaning over his shoulder, desperately attempting to make the tag, yet finding himself incapable reaching Evermore’s extended palm. That’s when Christian springs onto the second rope in front of MAX, then twists around in mid-air to connect with a vicious buzzsaw like kick right to the Fully Loaded member’s face. The hellacious kick knocks MAX off Riddick’s shoulder, causing him to land spine first on the canvas with his legs extended up into the air. Riddick wraps his arms around his knees and lifts him up into the air by spinning around, going for a giant swing with every rotation hoisting his opposition higher and higher into the air. They build great momentum before MAX is swung sideways right into a running front dropkick directly to the skull from Christian Savior. The fans react with shock at the sound of the collision to MAX’s cranium while Riddick drops him to the canvas and Savior finally vacates the ring with an almost arrogant smile on his face. Evermore slides his hands into his hair, forced to watch as Riddick takes hold of MAX’s ankle, lifting up on it and causing him to roll over in reverse onto his feet only to place him in a front chancery and hook his leg. The Renegade hoists MAX into the air, holding him upside down into a fisherman suplex position then dropping back, planting him right on top of his head with a DDT brainbuster out of that position. MAX’s body convulses as he falls onto his side now, Riddick turning as he grabs his opponent by the shoulder, pushing him down onto his spine and going for the cover.
1
2
Again MAX shows his resilience by kicking out of the move, a flustered Riddick crawling over top of him and beginning to deliver repeated forearm strikes downward into his face.
Billy: Uh oh, I hope MAX didn’t do something stupid and caused Adam to snap again. We all remember what happened the last time Riddick lost it.
Douglas: If he gives into his rage we might see Riddick and Savior get disqualified, so if he wants to stay in this tag tournament, he better maintain his cool here tonight.
MAX tries to get his arms up to protect himself, but it proves futile with each hard forearm to the side of his face. He finally falls onto his back while Adam rises to his feet and steps between his legs, wrapping them around his own and then grabbing hold of his wrists. He lifts up on them and then extends his foot, placing it right to MAX’s chest, pushing down on it as he delivers a reverse curb stomp, driving the spine of his opponent hard into the canvas. Thanks to his proper ring positioning, he’s able to maintain the inverted Indian Death Lock he has on MAX’s legs, stepping backwards and dragging him along then making the tag to Savior. His brother scales the turnbuckle quickly, getting to the top rope and then diving off with a short elbow drop right to MAX’s chest while he was still being held in the Inverted Indian Death Lock. A groan comes from the Fully Loaded member as Riddick drops to his seat and rolls over onto his elbows, pulling MAX into the same position. Adam reaches out with his free foot and places it to his opponent’s legs, holding them in the Inverted Death Lock while Christian steps in over top of MAX’s back, taking him around the jaw. The crowd is shocked to see MAX placed in a death lock variation and the camel clutch at the same time.
Roma is slapping the apron, motioning for MAX to get out of this hold while his body is being twisted at in both submissions at the same time. The official steps in, starting a five count on Riddick, who finally breaks the hold, rolling under the cables to the outside of the ring. Christian breaks the camel clutch as well and instead uses his grasp on MAX’s chin to force him up to his feet, bending forward as he buries his shoulder to his spine. He hoists MAX into the air and then spins him around into a sit-out blue thunder powerbomb, driving him to the canvas right between his legs. Christian leans forward and buries his shoulders into the back of MAX’s legs.
1
2
MAX kicks out again, getting his shoulder off the canvas in the nick of time while Christian slams the side of his fist against the canvas. He forces himself to his feet and then steps towards MAX, taking him by the wrist, forcing him up to his feet. He drags him up to a standing base then drags on the wrist in order to pull MAX forward into his shoulders. He stands up, perhaps going for something big from the fireman’s carry position only for MAX to suddenly counter by driving his knee into the side of Christian’s head, followed by another strike. Savior maintains his footing though and then tries to push MAX over his shoulders only for the game X-Class competitor to twist his body so that his back side is facing Christian. He is able to maneuver around enough to reach back with his back, wrapping them around Savior’s waist and dropping down onto the palms of his hands. He pushes himself back up into a wheelbarrow type move only for Christian to wrap his arms around his waist, falling in reverse with a German suplex counter. Somehow MAX is able to flip out of it and land right on his feet behind a surprised Christian who turns to face him right as his dazed opponent comes charging forward for a shinning wizard. Savior ducks it, MAX’s foot missing his head and landing behind him, while his other leg is still draped over in front of Christian’s thigh. He now jumps into the air and swipes back with the boot he missed with, his heel connecting hard with the back of Savior’s head, hitting a reverse shinning wizard of sorts.
Douglas: After a series of tremendous counters somehow MAX finding that reverse shinning wizard, wiping Savior out. If he doesn’t go for that tag to AXL now while he’s got the chance then Fully Loaded may not make it past the first round in this tournament.
Mayne: Again, I find the prospect of him making a tag to be an exercise in futility.
Dan: You’ve been watching old episodes of Star Trek the Next Generation again haven’t you?
Billy: 24 straight hours of TNG baby, 24 straight hours. By the time I got through watching it, I thought I was hosting the show Reading Rainbow.
The fans are solidly rallied behind MAX, who is still lying beside Christian, appearing to be spent after taking so many shots to his cranium throughout this intense tag team tournament match up. He rolls over sideways, finally beginning to show some signs of life while Axl is clapping his hands together, trying to rally behind him. This gets the crowd more riled up, stomping their feet with their palms connecting against one another, anxiously waiting for MAX to make that tag. He gets over onto his elbows and knees, trying to crawl slowly towards Evermore, who is very eager for that tag, his arm extended as far as it will go. MAX finds himself just a few inches from making the tag, extending his palm outward as his fingers dangle right outside of Axl’s grasp. That’s when Christian dives out of nowhere, delivering a double axehandle over the upper back of MAX, knocking him down chest first to the canvas once more.
Savior rises to his knee and smiles in the direction of Axl who was so close to getting that tag. He tries to calm himself down the longer he’s forced to stare into Savior’s repulsive, gloating grin. Christian stands up slowly and takes MAX by the hair, holding him up so that Axl can get a good view of his tired, exhausted face. He lifts up on the chin so that MAX’s fazed eyes can stare into Evermore’s, who is becoming increasingly flustered, yet tries to shout words of encouragement to his tag team partner. That’s when a smirking Savior pulls MAX to his feet and buries his shoulder to his spine, hoisting him into the air for a back drop only to have his opponent flip over backwards, landing on his feet. Savior turns and rushes forward with a lariat only to have MAX drop into a roll under it and slap Evermore’s hand. The crowd goes nuts as Christian turns around, flabbergasted and charging right at Evermore, who bends forward, sticking his head under the cables and under Savior’s posterior. He stands up, back dropping Christian through the air, sending him crashing to the outside mats side first. Adam enters the ring, rushing towards Axl who springs up onto the top rope, flying off through the air then twisting as he connects with a very agile springboard dropkick to Riddick’s chest. His opponent is knocked to the canvas hard spine first with everyone screaming loudly.
Douglas: Axl made the tag! He made the tag and he’s taken out both of his opponents with some insanely acrobatic offense.
Mayne: Why does this always have to happen in tag matches?
Christian is forcing himself up to his feet on the outside of the ring, the security personal assisting him to a standing base. That’s when he turns towards MAX who is scaling the turnbuckle, getting to the top rope, glaring down at the man who stole the X-Class title. He stands up straight then launches himself the top rope right into a cannonball senton directly into Christian and the security guards dressed in riot gear, knocking them all down to the mats in a pile to a massive ovation. Inside of the ring Axl has turned towards Riddick, who has risen to a single knee, trying to get his head straight. Before he has a chance to Axl slugs him to the forehead, followed by another strike, then delivers a hard slap to one side of his head, a very stiff strike at that. He takes hold of Adam’s hair, forcing him up to his feet before Riddick shoves his arms away and connects with a chop to Evermore’s sternum. The collision causes him to stagger backwards into the ropes, Adam balancing himself then charging in with what should be a huge and brutal boot directly to Axl’s face only to have Evermore drop down out of the way. This causes Adam to rack himself on the top rope, immediately shouting out in pain to find his testicles hitting the cable with such force. That’s when Axl gets to his feet and again shows his agility by charging into the cables, jumping into the air and landing on the second rope. He springs off then turns, dropkicking Riddick to the side of his body and thus sending him crashing to the outside mats after hitting off the apron shoulder first.
Riddick stumbles around, still holding onto his genitalia while Evermore is positioning himself in the ring, stomping his feet and urging Adam to turn towards him. Once he faces the ring, Axl rushes across the ring and jumps into the air, flying over the ropes then landing on the apron as he flips over backwards into a moonsault. Riddick ducks down out of the way though, causing Evermore to land on his feet in front of him, changing up the moonsault at the last second. He now rushes forward at Adam who side steps him, pushing him forward at the apron only to have Axl jump into the air, landing feet first on the apron and springing off as he twists his body and comes down on top of Riddick with a crossbody. Both men crash into the mats with the fans reacting with tremendous enthusiasm.
Douglas: Evermore taking out Riddick with a high risk move, and MAX doing the same to Christian. There are bodies flying everywhere in this opening tag team tournament match.
Billy: These guys are busting out everything they’ve got, but guess what, it’s still not going to be enough.
Dan: Really? Because it sure looks like it might be right now.
Mayne: You really need to work on your powers of prognostication.
Clapping loudly the fans find themselves thoroughly pulled into this acrobatic tag match, watching as Savior has rolled back to the ring, a tired MAX following him. He steps up onto the apron in front of Christian who is standing up in the ring now, stepping forward to drive his shoulder though the cables into MAX’s gut. The member of Fully Loaded avoids it by pulling himself over the cables into a sunset flip, catching Christian around the waist. He pulls him over backwards into the pin only for Savior to roll in reverse right onto his feet, charging in at MAX who is seated up in front of him. That’s when MAX turns, catching Savior around the ankle and drop toe holding him throat first into the middle cable. His arms fall over the ropes while MAX gets to his feet behind him then comes charging in, his legs flying through the ropes as he goes for the 619. Savior ducks his head though, MAX’s legs flying over his skull and causing him to twist around and fall feet first onto the apron. He stands up straight when Christian springs into the air, dropkicking him right to the face and sending him flying backwards, crashing onto the security guards, knocking them all down into a pile. Axl has rolled into the ring under the cables, standing up and staring down at Riddick, unaware that Savior is now located in the ring behind him. Christian steps up behind Axl and grabs him by the shoulder, spinning him around and jumping into the air for the diamond cutter once again. Riddick reaches out, grabbing the top rope with one hand, keeping himself from being pulled down into the move as Savior crashes hard to the canvas across his back. Savior groans in pain while sitting up as Evermore steps away from the ropes, taking him around the neck and bridging him up to his feet into a reverse DDT position. He spins him around, going for the rolling neckreaker only for Savior to pull his head free, placing his hands to Axl’s back, shoving him forward into the ropes. Axl jumps into the air though, landing feet first on the second cable then springing off into a big leg lariat right to Savior’s throat, knocking him down hard to the canvas.
Christian goes into a backwards roll onto his elbows and knees while Evermore gets to his feet and steps towards him with quickness. He bends forward, catching him around the neck and forcing him to his feet in a front chancery, setting up for something big as he begins to underhook both of Christian’s arms. The fans realize he’s going for that lethal double underhook brainbuster of his only for Savior to shove him off once again, sending him charging into the cables back first. He jumps into the air once more, landing on his feet on the middle cable backwards, then launching himself off right at Savior who charges forward, catching him to the gut with a huge spear that almost rips Evermore in half. Axl flips over backwards, crashing into the canvas and flopping around as he grips at his mid-section. With Axl down, Pat turns onto his elbows and knees, crawling into the cover.
Douglas: The Blaze of Glory spear by Christian Savior out of nowhere! He might have Axl defeated right here, and right now!
Mayne: If he doesn’t have the pin, I will eat a kitten, just to shit it out later!
The referee drops and makes the count quickly.
1
2
3!
No! Somehow Evermore gets his shoulder up at the last second, causing Savior to sit up and place his hands on top of his head in disbelief that he didn’t just get the pinfall.
Douglas: Evermore kicked out, he kicked out of that spear by Christian Savior! My God what a match to kick off Riot! here tonight.
Mayne: We’re starting off the show with a show stealer.
The fans are still going nuts while Savior gets up and grabs hold of Axl’s hair, forcing him to his feet, delivering repeated knees to his mid-section. In the meanwhile MAX has pulled himself up onto the apron, trying to stand up while at the same time Riddick is forcing his tired, strained body upwards on the outside of the ring. Inside of it, Christian has grabbed Evermore vy the wrist and chops him repeatedly to the chest then whips him at the turnbuckle. Somehow Evermore finds the strength to counter, instead sending Savior running into the ropes. As soon as he reaches the cables he extends his hands, catching hold of them and kicks the rest of his body up into the air to float over top of Evermore who was charging at him. Unfortunately for him, Axl has stopped and twisted his body to catch Christian on top of his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, turning him away from the turnbuckle, the very same corner that MAX is now scaling. Christian is trying to fight out of the fireman’s carry while MAX jumps off the top rope, landing right on top of Savior’s back while he is still stretched over Evermore’s shoulders. He now moonsaults off the back of Savior and over the ropes right on top of Riddick on the outside of the ring. Everyone in the building is screaming louder than ever before as Evermore rushes forward and delivers a death vallry driver that plants Christian hard into the canvas across the back of his head.
Fans: HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT!
MAX and Riddick remain laid out on the mats while in the ring Evermore is crawling into the cover on Savior, realizing that team Fully Loaded is about to advance in the tag team tournament.
1
2
3!
Somehow Savior kicks out to everyone’s disbelief, including Evermore’s, as he rises to his seat, running his hands through his hair in absolute shock.
Douglas: My God, have you ever seen action like this before Billy?
Mayne: Yes, but its great to see it again. I can’t believe this is our opening match, not that Axl nor MAX deserve main event status, but their opponents certainly do.
Dan: I think Axl and MAX are proving exactly where they belong on this roster in what has been an utterly fantastic tag team match thus far here tonight, and like Billy said, this is only our first match of the evening.
Evermore is sweating heavily as he turns towards Savior, who is still laid out before him, dragging him up to his feet slowly. He has him by the hair, gripping at it tightly while forcing him up sluggishly to a standing base. There seems to be nothing left of Savior as he’s pulled to a standing base only for him to shove Axl’s arms away and jump into the air, catching him with a diamond cutter out of nowhere. Evermore’s face crashes into the canvas with force before he flips over sideways, rolling across the ring. An exhausted Savior remains on his side, trying to catch his breath after delivering that move out of nowhere. He starts to get to his feet in order to approach the down Axl when MAX slides into the ring and charges straight at him. Christian spins around when MAX jumps into the air, landing on his shoulders and twisting him around to face the cables, pulling him over the ropes into a huge hurricarana. Both men flip through the air and find themselves crashing to the outside mats with force, the fans still going insane over all this tremendous action. The official sticks his head through the cables, checking on the condition of both Savior and MAX, the two men appearing spent while behind him, Evermore is somehow finding the strength to stand up. Unbeknownst to Evermore, one of the riot geared police officers has slid into the ring behind him. Just as he starts to get his balance and fight off the effects of that diamond cutter, the officer runs forward and blasts him over the back of the head with his nightstick. The strike knocks Evermore out cold almost immediately, sending him crashing to the mats face first.
Douglas: Wait a damn minute! That police officer just assaulted Evermore from behind with a nightstick.
Mayne: Perhaps he wasn’t getting paid over time.
The crowd is reacting with repulsion as the police officer turns and quickly vacates the ring, careful to keep his protective glass shield over his face as he leaves. Axl has been wiped out on the inside of the squared circle, left lying there with a cloud over glint in his eyes as Riddick slides in slowly. He crawls towards the down Evermore and pushes him over onto his back, dropping down with his arm over his chest, the official finally turning to observe this. Much to the fans’ dismay, especially considering Riddick is not the legal man, the referee drops and makes the count.
1
2
3!
Everyone in the building reacts with repulsion over the way that Savior and Riddick have just won this first round match up.
Mayne: Yes, they’ve done it, they’ve done it! Riddick and Savior have advanced in the tag team tournament.
Douglas: Dammit, Riddick wasn’t even the legal man in this match up. And this wouldn’t have happened if it hadn’t been for that disgruntled police officer.
Billy: Don’t shit all over what was an incredible opening tag match Dan, just because the team you wanted to win didn’t.
Dan: That’s not why I’m upset at all.
The fans are screaming as loud as they can in anger and excitement over the way this match just ended. Riddick rolls across the ring in a very sluggish, exhausted state while spilling under the ropes right onto his feet. He lifts his arm into the air in celebration while Kassie comes jumping towards him, clapping her hands and then wrapping her arms around his neck. She kisses him on the cheek while Savior staggers around the ramp and grabs the other arm over his brother, lifting it up high as well. They are bombarded with boos as all three individuals stagger up the ramp towards the backstage area.
Douglas: Savior and Riddick victorious here tonight in the tag team tournament, but they owe a big thank you to whomever was behind that riot gear helmet.
Mayne: What a way to kick off a night that should live in infamy.
As Savior and Riddick celebrate their victory, marching up the ramp sweating profusely after what was an intense tag team match, that same security officer rising onto the apron with the baton being patted against his palm. He starts towards Evermore who is trying to force himself to his feet, getting his elbows and knees beneath him before staring up at the individual who removes his helmet. Too much disgust from the fans, the face of Pat Evans is revealed, throwing his helmet down at the canvas then stepping towards the still dazed, barely coherent Evermore. Pat takes him by the ankle, lifting up on it and forcing him into the ankle lock, ripping at it viciously.
Douglas: This is reprehensible…
Billy: We know, we know, state your outrage elsewhere.
Dan: I’m paid to state it here. Pat Evans was dressed as a security officer, riot gear fella, only long enough to lay out Axl Evermore, one of the men he’ll face in the Submission Series at Breathless. That wasn’t enough though, as now he’s going after the ankle, trying to soften him up before the PPV.
Pat continues to lift and tear at the ankle of Evermore, who is grinding his teeth from the anguish coursing through his leg. He balls up his fists and shakes his head as Evans takes great joy in tearing his ankle to pieces, his eyes wide and maniacal, full of deep, inner turmoil. The contortion of his face speaks volumes for just how much amusement he’s taken in breaking Evermore’s ankle. That’s when Axl rolls forward across the canvas, pulling Evans over with him onto his back, breaking the ankle lock attempt. Axl rolls away from Pat who quickly gets to his feet still in his riot gear, rushing forward to place him in the ankle lock once more. That’s when Evermore gets to his knees and takes him around the back of the legs, lifting up on them and standing upright. He raises the legs into the air and tries to step through them in order to apply what looks to be a sharpshooter with the fans going absolutely nuts. Axl is attempting to wrap the legs about his own while Pat twists and turns from side to side. He finally scoots backwards across his spine with Evermore still trying to get the sharpshooter established. That’s when Pat grabs the ropes and rolls under the cables to the outside of the ring. An ever intense and furious Evermore steps towards the cables and holds the back of his head from that baton shot, giving a piercing stare in the direction of Evans.
Billy: Why does Evermore have to be a little Johnny Live A-Lot? He should take his punishment and like it.
Douglas: Evermore can take a beating but he won’t gladly accept one Billy. Just like Pat, who barely got out of that ring before being locked in the classic sharpshooter.
Billy: I can’t wait till Pat personally knocks him out or makes him tap out at Breathless.
An emotionless Evans marches up the ramp in reverse, glaring towards the ring very seriously, very intensely. His stare doesn’t force Evermore to look away, instead they’re eyes remain glued to each other’s faces, MAX standing up at ringside, watching all of this as well, not liking what he sees whatsoever.
SIFTING THROUGH THE MELODRAMA
A loud eruption, mostly cheers with a good portion of boos peppered throughout, emanates from the fans crammed into the Manhattan Center at the sight of the X-Class Champion Robin Brooks. Instead of being joyful, which is an emotion she’s failed to experience for some time, the Black Widow just sits drearily on a crate, her face confounded by the thoughts that threaten to rip her brain apart. Her mind is ravaged by questions and concerns, sifting through all that has happened to her over the past couple of months, including what just occurred at the start of the show, with the announcement of Hurse’s retirement from the ring. She’s just sitting there on a crate with a lowered head and saddened eyes, too stressed to even form tears. Her hand raises towards her shoulder, hoping to feel the reassuring coldness of her title belt, only to be cruelly reminded of its theft. The thought of Christian Savior still holding her stolen X-Class title belt creates even greater dismay in her turbulent heart. In the midst of dealing with these emotions snarled breathing can be heard from off camera, causing Robin’s eyes to raise tentatively, realizing that she has a lot of enemies here in the IWC. Terrified at the thought of looking into Psycho’s stone cold eyes, she finds herself only slightly relieved by the sight of Jon Rich. That’s before she notices how truly upset he is, the red tint of his contorted features distinctly displaying his sheer outrage at the sight of her, also having a lot on his mind.
Robin: Ummm, hi Jon.
Unsure of what to say when faced with a man who has obviously transformed from a considerate human being into this cold hearted savage standing before her thanks to his constant run ins with Desolation, she decides to make idle small talk. Perhaps not the best decision she’s ever made. Jon becomes even more callous as he tilts his head, trying to understand why Robin is even bothering to speak, as he obviously has no interest in hearing what she has to say.
Jon: Hi Jon? Hi Jon? What do you mean by that?
Again she is completely unsure of how to respond with everything that’s on her mind, slowly shrugging her shoulders in a tentative manner. This only further escalates the anger in Jon, who thrusts his hand down onto the crate beside Brooks, scooting ever so closer to her.
Rich: Do you actually think I give a fuck about exchanging pleasantries with you? Do you think I came back here because I wanted to have a friendly chat? Did it ever get through that thick skull of yours that I don’t like you enough to stand around and shoot the shit?
A crowbar gripped in his hand slowly raises into the air as he uses it to scratch at the greasy five o’clock shadow that has grown all around his face. The sight of the steel object being held in the hands of an obviously unstable man, especially one she’s not getting along with, causes Robin to become even more tentative. She scoots away from Jon slowly, and uneasily.
Brooks: Who’s the crowbar for Jon?
The question strikes Rich as odd before he turns his sight towards the cold steel object and acts taken aback, as if he didn’t even realize he was holding it.
Jon: Oh, you mean this? Don’t worry, it’s not for you. Well, I mean, it could be for you, should you fail to stay out of my way in our match tonight. That’s right, I just came back here to let you know that I don’t want your God damn help in that match tonight, I’ll never accept teaming with you after what you did at Born Again and considering that you’ve been in cahoots with Desolation…
Brooks: Hold on, I have not been anywhere near in cahoots with that bastard. And who says, cahoots anymore? The point is though, he’s been a thorn in my side too.
Rich: Oh really? So he took the only person you really cared about and broke her face?
Just as struck as she was when this conversation started, she finds herself right back at that point, completely incapable of coming with a response. Rich’s palm lifts and hovers in front of her face.
Jon: Allow me to answer that for you. No! So now you’ve got to be thinking that I brought this nifty crowbar with me to deal with Desolation, right? Of course you would, naturally that’s the second assumption that would pop into your head. But your wrong again Robin, just as wrong as you were when you shooting star pressed Psycho at the pay-per-view. No, no, you’ll have to wait to find out who I brought this for, but just rest assure it’s someone close to Desolation. Now stop thinking about it and start concentrating on how your going to spend the rest of the night since your not going to have a match, considering I will more than gladly brutalize you than tag team with you. I’m going to be carrying this team on my shoulders tonight, and if you get in my way, God help you.
Robin: Well that’s too bad because I’m in a fighting mood. I don’t think you care but after what happened to Hurse, I’m ready to rip someone apart, even if its Psycho. I’ll keep my mind on the match tonight, I’ll make sure we win rather you want to team with me or not, and in the process I’ll make up to you what I did at Born Again.
Jon snarls and snorts at the thought of it, too furious to display any other emotion or show any other behavior while he leans his reddened face in close to hers.
Jon: There’s no making up for what you did, so don’t even try it. Just stay out of my way, or you’ll get very acquainted with my new little friend here.
With a shaking finger he motions towards the crowbar.
Rich: All I care about is winning that match, and sending a message to Desolation before he’s carted out of this building in a motherfucking ambulance! He doesn’t think I’m dark enough, well just wait till he sees the monster that he created.
Stroking the crowbar takes his focus off of the increasingly uncomfortable Robin for only a moment and makes it incapable for him to notice the bystander now watching this whole scene play out. Jon looks up and finds himself staring into the face of Killjoy, who gets a loud ovation from the crowd at the mere sight of him. The thick arms of the former Annihilation World Champion are crossed over his chest as he watches this scene unfold with little emotion or tact. Robin looks up at him with a mixture of emotions while Jon scowls in his direction, still trying to maintain some type of grasp on reality. While smoothing out the crowbar with his palms he smirks in Killjoy’s general direction.
Jon: Well, well, the man who personally sealed Hurse’s fait. I’d stay to sing your praises a little longer, but I’ve got business to deal with.
Killjoy shrugs his shoulders only slightly, not wanting to show much emotion.
Killjoy: As if I cared. Good, go deal with it, and try to finish what you’ve started with Desolation this time, before me and my new found allies have to do it for you.
Jon smirks even wider as he nods his head and backs slowly away from the Master of the Mind Games, a man that Robin is staring at with greater intensity. She slips off the crate and steps right in front of him, not backing down from the man she was with for several years. As soon as his eyes meet hers he knows he’s in for it, but he doesn’t seem to care.
Robin: What are you doing here? I didn’t think you’d even have the gall to show up after what you did to the man I love.
Killjoy: Oh please.
The statement causes Robin to stutter in her complaints.
Brooks: What do you mean, oh please? I love Hurse, and you may have ended his career with what you, Psycho, and Chapel did to him. And another thing, what are you doing teaming with Psycho and Chapel, two men who want to kill me? On top of that, this whole thing between you and Hurse has been going on for months and its just ripping me apart. Your tearing me to pieces, verbally and physically, and neither of you even care. I’m starting to lose my mind, why did you have to do that to him?
Finally Killjoy sighs and extends his hand, placing it over Robin’s lip, forcing her to shut up so he can respond to her ranting. Once he’s sure she’ll be quiet, giving her an awkward glare with his wide eyes, he removes his hand and she crosses her arms, her foot impatiently tapping the concrete.
Killjoy: Firstly, I didn’t even think we were that rough on the man. If Hurse wasn’t such a pussy, maybe he would have been able to tolerate the much deserved beating he got and not have to retire because we gave him a few playful boo-boos.
Brooks: Playful boo-boos, he’s covered from head to toe in bandages…
Killjoy: Exactly, that’s only because we were holding back. He’s lucky he left that limo alive, and maybe I’d change that given his cowardly behavior tonight. Secondly, there’s a reason you’ve been getting so torn apart, physically and verbally as you put it. Its to show you that you’ve been making nothing but wrong decisions these past few months. Hurse is leading you into a tailspin that there will be no getting out of. Your eyes need to be opened to that fact, before it’s too late, if it’s not already. And thirdly…
Robin doesn’t want to hear it, rolling her eyes before Killjoy grabs her by the hair and pulls her forward, his lips meeting hers. The crowd on the inside of the arena goes absolutely nuts as the two former lovers embrace once more, Robin hesitant and struggling at first, before she finds herself slowly giving in. The longer their lips remain embraced the more she recalls their time together, the times spent in one another’s embrace, their passion. Finally she pulls away, even though she could have several seconds earlier, stepping back with blinking eyes, again left unsure of what to say or how to react. She lifts her hand towards Killjoy’s face, as if about to slap him but then pulls it back, running her shaking fingers through her hair. She then lifts a finger, as if to say something but finds herself incapable of speech. That’s when she just turns around and starts to walk off yet almost trips over her own feet, barely catching herself long enough to stroll away. Killjoy is left standing there with an apathetic, emotionless expression on his face, until a slight grin comes to one side of his face.
COMMERCIAL BREAK
CALVAN GREENE VS. SEAN JOHNSON
Mayne: I knew it, I fucking knew it!
Douglas: Well, as if this telecast couldn’t possibly get anymore intriguing now that happens backstage.
Billy: That cheating bitch, I knew she had been playing the Champion, I knew it. How could she throw herself at Killjoy at a time like this?
Dan: She did not throw herself at the Master of the Mind Games, but I didn’t see her resist that kiss either.
A fast paced single guitar solo begins playing throughout the arena right before a loud pyro explodes at the top of the ramp. The lights immediately change to a dark gold as "Heaven's creepin in" by Supernova Syndicate begins to play which immediately gets boos from the IWC crowd. After a slight pause Calvan steps out from behind the curtains. Calvan slaps his chest lightly before pointing out into the crowd and singing along with his theme song. Lightly headbanging to it he stops pointing into the crowd as they continue to boo him. Reaching the bottom of the ramp be raises both hands up to his mouth and kisses them. Then stretching them completely apart he blows as if sending the kisses into the crowd. Twirling around with both arms extended at the bottom of the ramp he turns slides into the ring. He delivers several pelvet thrusts to the mat while grinning, before finally standing back up and walking over to the other side of the ring. Balancing himself on the middle rope he raises both arms up halfway in the air, posing for the crowd one last time while brushing away bits of his coat to show off his abs before jumping down and turning back toward the center of the ring. He takes off his sun glasses and his fur coat and throws them over to the side for them to be taken away to ringside by a crew member.
Billy: It is so nice to see that Calvan Greene has gotten over that freak eye blinking accident, but I’m hoping we don’t see him wrestle here tonight with the same medical condition he had at the SCW show last week.
Dan: Believe me, if he has an erection that lasts throughout this match, the last thing you need to worry about is actually seeing it. I’m quite sure given its physical dimensions that a microscope would be needed to get a proper view of it.
Billy: Eighth grade potty humor, have you no shame?
Calvan is stretching, not to warm up for his match but instead to flex for the on-looking crowd, who are quite disgusted with his presence here tonight. That’s when familiar lyrics hit the PA system and causes the fans to jump to their feet as through the curtains rushes Sean Johnson. The Griffin looks all fired up as he turns in circles with his arms thrust out to his sides, he shoots one above his head and gets a louder reaction. After posturing for a moment he rushes towards the ring with laser lights shinning through fog behind him.
Dan: Listen to this crowd, everyone is just pumped to see the return of Sean “Griffin” Johnson, a long time ULW veteran stepping back into the ring tonight for the first time in IWC.
Mayne: Has this man ever met a retirement that actually stuck? I give him five minutes before he blows out one of his weak, girly knees and he’s back on the shelf, sitting at home playing outdating video games.
Douglas: I highly doubt it, Sean looks like he’s in the best shape we’ve seen him in in a long, long time after taking such a lengthy sabbatical from the wrestling business. Tonight will be a true test of rather he’s ready to compete though, if he’s shaken off all that ring rust.
The SCW Sultan of Sex Appeal steps forward from his corner, brushing his hair behind his ears and even trying to flex while doing that. He steps forward towards Sean Johnson who gets a loud pop from the crowd, very pleased over the fact that he’s returned here tonight after such a long absence from the ring. Calvan almost seems to be showing a more sportsmanship like side of himself as he swipes his hands across his nostrils then sticks his palm out in the direction of Johnson. Sean stares down into his opponent’s palm, which is now smeared in mucus, forcing him to hesitate in shaking the hand.
Mayne: What an unsportsmanlike move from Sean, refusing to shake hands with Calvan.
Douglas: Would you shake a hand covered in snot?
Mayne: If it was Calvan’s snot most definitely. All this smog in New York City is probably causing him congestion, when he was on the campaign trail earlier I saw him have to blow his nose on several of supporters sleeves.
Calvan keeps his hand extended while Sean refuses to shake it, almost seeing his reflection from the pool of saliva placed in Greene’s palm. That’s when Calvan shrugs his shoulders and slaps Sean in the face, but wait, Johnson ducked it, causing his palm to fly over his opponent’s head and connect with the cheek of referee Fitzpatrick. The official is sent into a backwards stagger, holding his cheek with a wide open mouth over the fact that Calvan just had the audacity to slam him in the face. Calvan cringes over what he did then just shrugs his shoulders, realizing the referee is small, with twiggy arms and thus can’t do anything about it. While distracted via trying to explain his slap to the referee’s face, playing it off as if he meant to do that, Sean grabs him by the back of the pants, rolling him over into a school boy.
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Calvan kicks out by rolling over backwards, right onto his knees. He stands up and charges forward at Johnson who was getting up in front of him, taking him around the neck and going for a swinging neckbreaker. Johnson twists his head and gets free from Greene’s arm, switching behind his back then hooking both his arms, pulling him down into a backslide.
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Again Greene is forced to kick out with quickness, dropping over onto his elbows and knees, Sean standing up in front of him. As soon as Calvan steps forward he’s caught and dragged down to the canvas into a small package.
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Calvan kicks out and drops to the canvas while wrapping his arm around Nathan’s head in the process, rolling across the canvas and pulling Johnson with him. As soon as both men reach their feet Sean finds himself into a face lock, Calvan pleased with himself that he was able to get him up to this hold. He then turns Sean around so that his back is aimed to the canvas and drops down into a hard reverse neckbreaker. Sean hits the canvas viciously across his neck and upper back, popping up onto his seat while gripping at his cranium, Calvan standing up behind him with quickness. He steps towards him and throws a kick at the back of Sean’s head only to miss him, his boot going too high. Calvan spins around and realizes Sean isn’t down, confusing him for only a moment before he steps forward, grabbing hold of Johnson’s head, feeling around it with both palms. He makes sure it’s perfectly positioned then steps behind him, throwing that hard kick right into the back of Sean’s skull.
Douglas: Why is this guy employed? Can someone explain that to me? Can he execute one actual wrestling move?
Mayne: You just don’t understand crisp, perfect execution in a wrestling match.
Calvan steps towards Johnson and takes him around the neck, placing him in a dragon sleeper before his determined opposition pushes up with his legs, bridging himself up to his feet. Yet he’s still bent over backwards into the dragon sleeper as Calvan looks around, a smile forming on his face as he nods his head, realizing he can probably hit an ever so wacky high spot from this position. Before he can debate it any further Sean spins around and buries his shoulder to Calvan’s gut, charging him backwards into the turnbuckle, driving him spine first against it. Greene’s arms fall over the cables, wondering what happened but Sean knows exactly what’s transpiring in the ring as he stands up and slaps Calvan to the cheek, paying him back for that earlier attempt. Now that he’s got him prone he takes hold of Calvan’s wrist and whips him across the ring, following him for perhaps a running clothesline in the diagonal corner. The crafty Calvan has other plans though as he jumps into the air, landing feet first on the second rope with Sean coming in after him, bending forward to take his legs out from under him with his shoulders. That’s when Calvan’s feet slip off the ropes and cause him to fall on his own back first to the canvas, Sean diving forward a second too late and missing him as his shoulder cracks against the exposed steel turnbuckle post.
Johnson groans loudly after missing the move before Calvan sits up, wrapping his arms around Sean’s waist and pulling him over backwards. Johnson rolls onto the back of his shoulders while Greene ends up seated on the back of his thighs.
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When Sean kicks out he launches Greene forward across the ring, right into the cables. Calvan bends his head forward as he hits them and then flips over the cables, landing feet first on the apron with his back aimed to the ring. For no reason whatsoever he thrusts his arms out to his sides, showing off before Sean jumps into the air behind him, delivering a dropkick over the cables right into his upper back. The collision sends Calvan flipping forward and crashing to the hard outside mats across his back, immediately arching it from the mats as he shouts in pain.
Billy: How dare Sean Johnson ruin a counter as beautiful as that from Calvan Greene.
Douglas: I’m surprised he didn’t kill himself flipping over the ropes, he’s already come close to it every time he’s stepped into that ring. But we can only hope this match and the onslaught from Johnson will help speed his eventual demise along.
Sean rolls under the ropes to the outside of the ring then backs up while glaring at the laid out Calvan, he gets a running start before dropping into a roll across the canvas. The fans react with a loud outburst of cheers as Sean flips forward out of the roll, dropping down back first onto Greene’s chest as he delivers the rolling thunder.
Dan: Another beautiful acrobatic move by Sean Johnson. This man has not missed a beat since he went on the shelf all those months ago.
Mayne: And here I thought he’d come back with injection marks on his arms and a flabby beer gut. Who have figured Johnson could walk away from reruns of Jerry Springer long enough to hit the gym?
Calvan is holding his arms over his stomach, in shock over the fact that Sean is giving him this type of challenge, thinking the match shoulder already be over by now. An ever intense and determined Johnson steps towards him, taking hold of his hair and forcing him to his feet before dragging him towards the ring. Greene is rolled into the ring under the ropes while Sean rolls in after him and then crawls into a quick cover, hooking his nimble opponent’s leg.
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Calvan gets his shoulder off the canvas, dropping over onto his side and then forcing himself to his feet slowly. Just as he gets a knee beneath him Sean slugs him to the side of the face then delivers a straight kick to his chest, knocking him down to his back once more. Gaining some confidence, Johnson spins around to face him and steps forward jumping into the air, catching tremendous height before he extends his leg and plants it across Greene’s throat. The SCW star turns away from the returning veteran, gagging for air before he’s kicked to the back of the head by a now standing Johnson. Sean takes him by the hair, forcing him to his feet then bending forward, burying his shoulder to Calvan’s spine. He hoists him into the air when Calvan floats over, even managing to complicate that as he twists and accidentally comes down face first to the canvas. He bounces off with it a thud and then pushes himself up to his elbows and knees, grabbing his head while his opponent backs up then trips over him. Sean crashes onto his back on the opposite side of Calvan, who tries to figure out how that just happened before assuring himself that he planned on it, turning and burying his shoulders into the back of Johnson’s leg. He pushes down on them and drives his shoulders against the canvas.
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Sean reaches up, placing his hands to the back of Calvan’s head and pushing down on it, flipping him over onto the back of his shoulders. Johnson sits up, burying his own shoulders into the back of Greene’s thighs, applying pressure to keep him down on the canvas.
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Somewhat shockingly, considering his lack of knowledge in the true fundamentals of wrestling, Calvan pushes his shoulders off the canvas and sits up. He forces Sean over onto the back of his shoulders while seated on his chest. The official, still rubbing at his cheek, drops to make the count, his hand slapping the canvas quickly. Instead of doing the smart thing though and going for the pinfall, Calvan gets up, stepping to Sean’s side then doing a head stand, spinning his hips and dropping a fancy dancing leg drop.
Billy: What beauty, what agility, what showmanship, someone just give this man the World title after seeing that last move.
Douglas: Have you become the man’s publicist or something?
Mayne: Unofficial publicist is my exact title.
Calvan lies on his side, swiping his hands across his throat, insisting that last move finished Sean off, getting to his seat and crawling into the cover.
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Shockingly Johnson kicks out, shooting his shoulder from the canvas, causing Calvan to sit up and turn to the fans, providing them with another of his political platforms.
Calvan: And its nearfalls like that they make me want to fight steroid abuse in wrestling. You need to be all natural like me.
In between speech giving behind Calvan’s back, Johnson was getting to his knees. He lunges forward, catching him around the arm and hooking his legs around the other, pulling him over into a crucifix pin. The weight of Calvan’s boots somehow give him the power to roll out of the pin as Sean stands and hooks both of his arms. He gets a firm grasp under both of them then snaps back into the bridging double underhook suplex.
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Calvan gets his shoulders off the canvas, infuriating Johnson who falls to his seat, shocked that he couldn’t get the pinfall over Greene in what has been an intense quick match between the two. He forces himself to his feet nevertheless and takes hold of Calvan’s hair in the process, dragging him up to his feet in the process and pulling him forward gut first into his shoulder. Its clear that he’s setting up for the northern lights suplex, lifting him up to deliver it when Calvan takes him around the neck and counters, dropping back into a DDT. The top of Johnson’s head crashes hard off the canvas before Calvan sits up at his side, tapping his temple and mouthing off to the fans.
Calvan: I learned that one last week.
Calvan turns towards Johnson who is laid out, wondering rather he should go for the pinfall or not. He decides they’ve been over done in this contest and instead steps forward, beginning to go for his break dancing leg drop only to slip when he stands on his head and twist, unintentionally coming down with a back splash right into Sean’s mid-section. Calvan sits up and stares over his shoulder at Sean, who is rolling around holding his gut in pain. He appears very pleased with himself while Calvan stands up and models after his botch turned into a miracle move. Camera of course are paid to go off around him until he stands and steps towards Johnson, taking him by the hair. He pulls him to his knee and delivers a fist to his face, followed by another one. Sean is almost taken to the canvas while Calvan runs into the ropes for a running punch. Right as he steps in though, Johnson stands and delivers a spinning back kick right to his gut. Greene is doubled over by the strike while Sean steps to his side and delivers a straight superkick right to the side of his face. Calvan is sent into a spin, but not knocked from his feet by the shot until Johnson steps forward, catching him by the wrist and pulling him into his shoulders. The Griffin stands up, holding Calvan in position for some type of death valley driver until Greene counters by slipping off his shoulders, but his legs get caught around one arm, causing him to turn upside down and hang from Sean’s back. He wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him over into the sunset flip, going for a shocking pinfall out of sheer luck.
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Somehow Sean is able to muster his shoulder from the canvas in the nick of time before rolling in reverse right onto his knees. Calvan does the same, rolling right onto his feet and charging forward, realizing that he has victory in the palm of his hand, as there’s no other way it can possibly go in his head. He charges right into Sean who bends forward, catching him against his shoulder then hoisting him into the air as he turns and drives him down spine first into the canvas. The crowd reacts with shock at the sight of the Griffin’s Soul Breaker (Double A spinebuster). Calvan is driven with incredible force into the canvas before Johnson rolls into the cover, hooking his opponent’s legs.
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The fans react with a tremendous ovation for Johnson, who just defeated Calvan Greene in his return match.
Douglas: Sean Johnson has done it, he’s beaten the sultan of sex appeal with that Soul Breaker spinebuster of his. What an impressive win in his return to the IWC.
Mayne: That didn’t just happen, tell me that I just imagined that, just like I imagine pixies and stardust and Janet Reno doing a strip tease.
Dan: Although it would add to your disturbing, abnormal fantasies, I have to bust your bubble, much to my delight, because all his trash talking and strutting has led Calvan right into a defeat at the hands of Sean Johnson. What a return for this crafty IWC veteran.
Sean stands up tall and then salutes Calvan, who is writhing in agony on the canvas after that brutal spinebuster.
MORE FITTING ACCOMODATIONS
The anger from the crowd intensifies at the sights of two men who have quickly become the most hated individuals in the IWC lockeroom, which is exactly where they’re headed with no fear for their well being. Of course why be fearful when your being flanked by an army of police guards decked out in riot gear, so Christian Savior strolls along rather merrily, while Adam Riddick wears a disenfranchised expression on his face. The only thing that brings him slight comfort in this dreadful moment is the presence of his loving Kassie, his arm draped over her shoulder, leading her beautiful body along at his side. Although he doesn’t have the company of a seductive young lady, Christian finds solace in the stolen X-Class title belt that is draped over his shoulder, constantly polishing it with his wrist and staring at his reflection in the process. He smirks, as if liking what he sees staring back at him from the surface of the gold.
Adam: Would you stop playing with that damn thing already? Your going to go blind.
This demand, uttered with a hint of anger, stirs a chuckle forth from Christian’s lungs. His chest heaves while flicking the back of his knuckles against his brother’s large sternum.
Christian: Why can’t you just let me enjoy the fruits of my labor? You don’t see me constantly ragging you whenever you win titles…
Riddick: Um, winning is not the same thing as stealing.
Savior: Ha, now you’re just splitting hairs. The point is I have the belt, so that makes it mine.
Riddick pauses for a moment during their march towards the lockeroom, slapping his palm down over his face and allowing his fingers to slip across his features, tapering off at his chin.
Adam: No it’s not yours, because you didn’t win it fairly in the center of the ring.
Again Adam’s deluded sense of nobility registers a chuckle from Savior.
Christian: Sure, if you want to be technical about it. But the fact is Robin hasn’t come looking for it, and even if she does, she’ll be forced to put her gold on the line against me in order to get it back. That’s a match she’s guaranteed to lose, so why delay the inevitable? Might as well as just give me the belt now and save us the trouble.
Riddick: Your so….that’s not…..that doesn’t even make sense.
Savior: Just relax and go with the flow bro. Like this whole thing with Orlando and Nathan, I promise you that everything will end up roses for the two of us. You’ve just got to relax and stop being so uptight.
Kassie: He may be uptight, but at least it’s kept him from becoming an asshole like a certain someone.
As they continue forward Christian stumbles a bit at the conclusion of that statement, which seems to hit him like a slap to the back of the head.
Christian: That is no way to talk about Nathan Creed, what if he heard you? He’d get all sad and angry, then realize there’s nothing he can do about it since we’re untouchable, hahahaha. Now let’s just go in here, get our bags and get out before we catch some type of venereal disease.
Although it was a dickhead comment, Riddick nods and shrugs his shoulders, both he and Savior stopping just outside the lockeroom. As they stop one of the guards bumps into Riddick from behind, causing him to turn and scowl into the dark face plate.
Adam: Um, you guys can stand out here unless you want to watch us change our jockstraps.
Savior: That’s right, do what your paid for and protect this door, because I’m not going to chance you guys coming in there with us and using your cellphones to video record us changing our clothes. Then we’d have to suffer the humiliation of waking up the next morning and seeing the footage posted all over youtube. No, just no you filthy perverts.
The guards lower their heads while Savior pats an annoyed Riddick on the shoulder, thinking his brother might have went a little too far in his humiliation of the hard working police officials.
Christian: See, being an asshole gets things done. Now let’s get this over with.
With a sigh Adam grabs the doorknob, twisting it as he and Savior step inside, Kassie gladly accompanying them. Just as they step inside though they’re met with the sound of confetti guns going off and kazoos playing. Riddick closes his eyes and groans while Savior smiles from ear to ear, nodding his head excitedly at the sight of Sallie and Krissie standing in the middle of the lockeroom. They are just as overwhelmed with joy at the sight of the victorious tag team standing before them, popping a cork on a champagne bottle with the foam overflowing, spilling to the already stained carpet below. Sallie lifts it and begins to chug straight from the bottle before Krissie lowers her confetti pistols, grabbing some fine crystal glasses from a table at her side.
Christian: What’s all this for?
Krissie: Can’t we show our appreciation to our all time favorite roster members and the best tag team in IWC without having ulterior motives?
Savior then shrugs and takes a glass of champagne as its handed to him, Riddick on the other hand just watches on appalled and disgusted at the sight of this shoddy celebration.
Adam: Um, no.
As she chugs some champagne Sallie grins and motions towards Adam with her pinky finger.
Sallie: What a wise young man, and so handsome too. Thanks for again showing us why we placed our faith in you Adam, your able to read between the lines. No, we’re not just throwing a party because you guys are you guys, and it’s not because you so totally decimated those punkasses Axl Evermore and MAX in the ring just now. I guess what you can call this is a preliminary party for your impending victory against Creed and Cruze.
The insincere smile on Savior’s face only widens, followed by a forced chuckle as he takes a sip of the sweet nectar in his glass. He catches a glimpse of Adam from the corner of his eye, who is just getting more disgusted by every passing moment. Sallie and Krissie are too busy trying to wow them to notice.
Krissie: After what you boys did to them last week there’s no way that Orlando and Nathan will be able to beat you two at Breathless. They’re like so sitting ducks, and I’m talking the ugly ducks, but not the ones who turn into swans.
Riddick: What the hell are you talking about?
Krissie asks herself that very same question while Kassie places a palm to her husband’s chest, trying to keep him calm, however he can’t seem to contain his emotion any longer. All the while Christian cringes as Riddick lets loose with his emotions.
Adam: You know what, I’m not happy about what I did last week, so I’m not going to stand here and celebrate it. I don’t want any part of this bull….
Savior: Oops.
Intentionally, but playing it off as an accident, Savior’s glass of champagne is tilted and spilled all over Adam’s shirt. He looks down at it and backs away, his clothing dripping wet at this point.
Riddick: What the hell?
Christian: My bad, it slipped.
Adam brushes off his shirt while Sallie and Krissie stare at one another oddly, unsure of what he was going on about, and really not caring to hear the rest of it. As Kassie helps her man clean his shirt, Christian steps towards the two jilted lovers with a condescending smirk.
Christian: Don’t mind him. He’s just a little upset that they cancelled Seventh Heaven, but he’ll get over it, so please go on with inflating our egos.
Sallie: Well all I can say is that Krissie and I weren’t the only ones super pleased with how you handled those two bastards last week, because our Boss is very happy with the state you left them both in.
Savior: Not to toot my own horn, but it was pretty brutal wasn’t it?
Krissie: Oh yes, it was. And the way you two have been effortlessly winning matches around here has reminded us that we can’t allow you two to put up with these atrocious accommodations. No, no, you need a room that’s truly befitting of stars.
Christian smirks and rubs gleefully at his jaw.
Christian: I do like the sound of that.
Krissie: Good, because we relocated GM AWOL’s office to the bathroom, meaning his old place will now be your official changing room.
Sallie: Complete with a plasma screen television to allow you guys to get a picture perfect view of Orlando and Nathan’s match tonight. You’ll be scouting your opponents in style, instead of having to hang out with these Neanderthals.
Again Christian chuckles, quite liking the sound of his own private dressing room, or at least one he’ll only have to share with Riddick. Right in the middle of this love fest a sobbing Bitchcakes McPhee staggers into the fray, and before anything can be done to stop it, his chubby arms tumble over the shoulders of both Sallie and Krissie. The two ladies open their eyes widely out of both shock and disgust as they turn their attention to the slobbering McPhee, using them both to lean on. Tears are caught in his eyes while he sways back and forth, far too drunk to even stand upright or remain slightly coherent. Christian watches on with bewilderment as McPhee almost falls over and take both ladies down with him.
Bitchcakes: Why, why did he do it tits and ass? Why mommy jugs, whhhhhhyyy?
The side of his head falls against Krissie’s cleavage as her mouth opens wide out of astonishment, his tears spilling between her breasts.
McPhee: He was my hero, my hero, and he stabbed me in the back. Why did he do that to my beer, why oh why? Give me a blow job while your explaining it to me would you?
He reaches down and begins to unzip his pants before Savior finally steps forward, placing his palm to McPhee’s chest and pushing him back. McPhee sways back and forth and almost loses his footing, Christian having to squeeze hold of his shirt in order to keep him upright. Adam and Kassie are now watching this from across the room, unsure of what to think, yet finding themselves slightly amused by the antics of the insanely drunken McPhee.
Christian: Hey pal, the last thing these ladies want is your greasy, fat nasty hands pawing all over them, so keep them to yourself.
Bitchcakes: Ha, gladly.
His hands reach down out of camera’s view as the sound of his pants unzipping is heard, that’s when Christian turns away in a state of absolute disgust and repulsion.
Savior: For the love of God man, that’s not what I meant.
Sallie: We’ll handle this.
McPhee: Yes!
As Sallie and Krissie were stepping around Christian’s sides they both roll their eyes, knowing what McPhee thought they were referring to. Nevertheless Krissie pats Savior on the shoulder and motions towards the door.
Krissie: You and Riddick can go ahead to your new plush dressing room while we deal with this pervert.
Christian: Are you sure, cause Adam and I will have no problem kicking his ass again.
Krissie: No, no, we’ve got this one.
Christian shrugs, a bit relieved he wouldn’t have to put his hands on Bitchcakes as he turns and makes his way towards the door. After a brief spat with his brother they leave McPhee alone with the two hot chicks, which makes him grin through his drunken dementia and rubs his palms together gleefully.
McPhee: So, do you two want to start with each other first, then I’ll jump in later? I can play the part of the copy machine repairman, who drills you both in your assholes. Did anyone bring a camera, and a burrito, cause I can’t be asked to perform on a half empty stomach.
The two ladies find themselves prepared to vomit in their own mouths yet control their gag reflexes just long enough to say what they have to.
Sallie: Listen Bitchcakes, because we’re not going to continue smelling your breath and body odor long enough to say this twice. We’ve come to a decision regarding your disgraceful behavior backstage. At a time like now we can’t have someone walking around drunk all the time making a complete and utter mockery of this business. You need to change, and you can either decide to do that on your own, or be forced to if need be.
McPhee’s eyes blink sporadically while nodding his head in an awkward manner.
Bitchcakes: Okay, so why aren’t you two naked yet?
Krissie: Anyways, we’ve decided that at Breathless we’re going to give you what you want, a chance to get revenge against Max Power in a one on one match. We think if you can beat him and put him behind you, then maybe you’ll return to some sort of normalcy, if such a thing exists in regards to yourself. But, here’s where things get interesting, if Max Power beats you at Breathless, you either go into a rehab or your fired.
McPhee acts shocked, his mouth hanging open widely and his eyes bulging from their sockets, allowing a clear view of all the red veins coursing through them. He stares between both ladies who nod, liking the sound of what they just told him, enjoying the clear amount of distress they’ve caused him.
McPhee: I thought porn stars were suppose to be nice and give out presents or candies from their bungholes, get out of my way, I got to find Max.
He shoves his way in between the two ladies and storms towards the door as they put on conniving smiles, turning towards one another with joy in their hearts. They seem to be amused by the anger they just created in McPhee’s heart and the way they dealt with the situation of his over intoxication. That’s when McPhee steps back into the scene, not even bothering to look at either lady until he reaches out with his hands and grabs them both on their asses. They jump into the air, squealing and reaching for their posteriors in disbelief that he would have the audacity to grab them like that. After getting through with what he needed to do before he could leave, McPhee spins around with little emotion on his face, storming out of the lockerroom.
COMMERCIAL BREAK
HELIX VS. JACKSON ADAMS
Dan: Explain to me how Christian Savior and Adam Riddick deserve their own personal dressing room.
Mayne: I don’t have to, just know that they do. Talent alone justifies giving them their own quarters.
The lights dim as black light fade on in the ringside area; Faint by Linkin Park hits the sound system. Blue and green spotlights start blinking and roaming their way through out the audience as Jackson Adams Step through the curtain an arrogant, yet cocky smile stretches across his features. He slowly walks to the ring pointing to himself, and mouthing to the crowd how much better he is. He reaches the steps and walks up them slowly, walking along the ring apron now, he stops and takes one last look up the ramp and at the crowd before wiping his feet cockily on the ring apron, before stepping through the ropes. As he walks to the center of the ring he lifts his arms as if he was accepting the loud chorus of boos from the crowd, as he slowly spins in a circle and the lights return to normal.
Mayne: Behold one of the most courageous men on the planet. It had to take so much for this young man to turn against his own partner Too Magnificent earlier in the night. It was such a noble act in order to protect the rest of the Alpha Generation, a group he’s devoted his life to, much like he’s dedicated his career to the IWC.
Dan: He’s not Jesus, Billy, so stop hyping him up like he is. This guy is a cowardly bastard just like Hurse and Desolation. I’m still reeling over what the Alpha Generation did to their monster earlier tonight.
Mayne: He was a dying animal, they just put him out of his misery, hahahaha.
Adams marches around the ring, flexing, especially his back, which seems to be causing him some troubles. The opening chords of Mozart's 'night on bald mountain' rips through the audience sending shivers down their spines. As the infamous notes blast, a pendulum is raised from the middle of the ramp. Kneeling on that with his back to the audience is the man known as Helix. He wears a long leather jacket that has a single large black wing attached to his shoulder and looks up to the titantron. As the pyro goes off, Helix gets to his feet and flares his coat so that he now stands facing the audience as his wing stretches out before them. He walks down the ramp and slides into the ring as the crowd cheers. He gets to his knees and raises his hands to the sky as gold shower pyro rains upon him.
Mayne: Okay, I guess I kind of have to give this guy some props for how promptly he defeated Bitchcakes McPhee last week, although he’s still shorter than one of my turds.
Douglas: What a wonderfully colorful analogy.
Billy: I’m full of them.
Dan: I can think of a lot of things your full of. But yes, the world is still in shock over the quick way that Helix AKA SCW World Champion Jason Wheeler, dispatched Bitchcakes McPhee last week, a long time IWC veteran. If that’s any indication of what he’s capable of, we’re going to be seeing a lot more of this guy in the future.
Billy: Unfortunately for him he won’t meet with the same results tonight against a much more athletic Jackson Adams.
Adams steps forward out of his corner slowly as the bell rings, Helix hopping in place as he gets himself physically prepared for the match at hand. Surprisingly in a sportsmanlike gesture, Jackson extends his hand out in the direction of Helix, who extends his own hand as well to take hold of it. Just as their palms interlock Adams lifts his other hand into the air and flicks him directly to the eyeball. A groan comes from Helix as he turns away from Jackson who now steps forward, blasting him over the spine with a hard clubbing blow. That’s when he reaches down, taking hold of the wrist of his opponent and then swinging around under it, placing him in the arm ringer submission. Helix is doubled over as he finds himself in this submission by Adams, who is grinning from ear to ear. That’s when Helix turns towards Adams then does a cartwheel over across the canvas, landing right back on his feet. He lifts up on his arm and pulls Adams towards him, sticking his head between the wrists of his opponent then shoving it sideways into one of them. This causes Jackson to break the arm ringer as Helix turns and takes hold of his wrist, swinging out to his side, placing him in the arm ringer of his own. That’s before he transitions it into a top wrist lock, almost taking Adams over onto his back before his quick, nimble opponent twists around into a kick to the back of his knee. Jackson is taken down to a kneeling base, with one of his feet still planted to the canvas though while Helix steps around behind his back. He switches up the top wrist lock into a single arm cobra clutch, burying his knee to his opponent’s upper back.
Douglas: A very nice technical exchange between Adams and Helix, who is really showing what kind of submission specialist he can be, which proves to be a nice blend with his high flying offence.
Mayne: Um, uh, Adams has just got a splinter in his finger that’s distracting him.
Douglas: That has to be the weakest excuse you’ve come up with.
Billy: Too late to change it?
Dan: Seeing as we’re on live television, I’d have to say yes.
Suddenly Adams stands up slightly and pulls on his arm, dragging Helix forward into a stunner position only for him to snapmare him over. To his shock though, his acrobatic opponent flips forward out of the snapmare, landing on his feet right in front of Jackson, who eyes widen with disbelief. That’s when the crafty veteran stands up and steps forward, taking hold of Helix’s arms then spinning the One Winged Angel around into position for his always deadly unprettier. Suddenly Helix stands up straight though, lifting Jackson off of his feet and hooking up his arms as he now hangs from his back in a vertibreaker position. The crowd goes nuts as Helix jumps into the air, hitting the Skeleton Key out of nowhere already, Adams’s body driven against the canvas with tremendous force across the back of his head and neck. He is sent flipping over onto his front, completely taken out by that devastating move as the fans cheer in shock over the quick counter that Helix made to hit that move.
Dan: The Skeleton Key already! Helix hit it out of nowhere, just like last week with Bitchcakes McPhee.
Mayne: That, that, that had to be a lucky counter is all, Jackson will kick out and make him pay for it, you’ll see, you’ll see.
Helix turns to his knees and crawls into the cover on Adams, hooking his leg while the official drops to make the count.
1
2
3!
The fans react with complete and utter shock at the sight of Helix defeating Jackson Adams and doing it in record time.
Douglas: I can’t believe it! For the second week in a row, Helix has pinned a long time IWC veteran out of nowhere with that Skeleton Key! How deadly is his delivery of that move?
Mayne: I’d have to imagine pretty damn deadly, after all Jackson must be dead if he didn’t kick out. No, just no, what happened!?!
Dan: Jackson met the same fait as Bitchcakes did last week. He got some comeuppance for what he did tonight and what he’s been doing over the past few months as well.
The fans are still screaming as Helix stands up, looking down at the long IWC veteran then shrugging his shoulders while tilting his head. He then motions with his fingers for a microphone, which is quickly handed to him through the cables.
Mayne: What a sycophantic piece of garbage this Helix is, after crushing my faith in humanity by defeating Jackson Adams in record setting time, now he’s going to gloat about it as well.
Douglas: After two weeks of defeating some of our longest, most reliable members, in the span of seconds with his Skeleton Key, I think he has some room to gloat.
Helix taps his fingers against the microphone while strolling to the center of the ring with a very confident swagger. All the while Adams is rolling away from Helix, gripping at the back of his neck as a dejected expression resides on the somewhat distraught features of the abnormal individual.
Helix: Well, I’d say I was disappointed but that be a grave understatement. I came to the IWC because I thought there was something called competition here, but apparently I was sadly, sadly mistaken. Is this what’s considered the best in this company?
Helix extends his hand out in the direction of Jackson, who is still struggling to reach his feet. He then shakes his head in a very disappointed manner.
Helix: I guess my standards were set just a little too high, that I was expecting more out of the so called veterans in this company, because thus far I’ve squashed just about every single opponent I’ve crossed in one on one competition. It was Bitchcakes last week, and tonight, it was Jackson Adams, a man who was in one of the main events at Paranoia IV. So I must ask myself, and all of you, to tell me who, who on this roster can give me a challenge? I hope, no I pray there’s someone out there ready to give me a match that will last longer than it takes me to shower in the morning. That’s why I’ve decided to give myself a true test, or at least I hope it will be a test of my talents, by officially entering myself into the Submission Series at IWC Breathless.
The crowd starts to cheer loudly at the sound of this, realizing that Helix is truly going to push himself to the limit in what should be a technical masterpiece at the upcoming pay-per-view.
Douglas: That’s huge, Helix signing himself up for the Submission Series at IWC Breathless.
Mayne: That match just keeps getting bigger and bigger, not that Helix stands a chance in hell of victory with guys like Pat Evans involved in there, but still, he should make things slightly more colorful.
Helix nods towards the screaming fans, enthused at the thought of him mixing it up with some of the greatest submission specialist in the world.
Helix: So I hope that at the pay-per-view, I will finally meet my match in the center of this ring. Please, someone give me a challenge, that’s all I’m asking. I’m not saying this to be arrogant, I’m not trying to be the quasi confident heel, I’m saying this because its what I actually want. Give me a challenge, I’m begging you…
The reaction from those packed into the stands changes to one of bewilderment and shock as Jon Rich comes strolling through the curtains, a crowbar gripped in his hand as he marches straight towards the ring. Captured in his eyes is a very intense, determined gaze as he storms right in the direction of a staggering Jackson Adams, who has just reached his feet. Helix catches sight of Adams from the corner of his eye, his brow raising in response.
Mayne: Oh no, come on now, why is Jon Rich coming down to the ring with that crowbar in hand?
Douglas: I don’t think he’s going to use it to pop open a footlocker, instead he’s planning on opening something else up, or someone.
Billy: Please tell me he’s going to use that crowbar to remove an unsightly nail.
Dan: I wish I could Billy, wait, actually I don’t wish I could at all. In fact, all of this rather amuses me.
Helix turns towards Jon who rolls into the ring with no hesitation, standing up as he squeezes at the crowbar in his palm very tightly. The unstoppable newcomer holds his palm up and graciously exits the ring as Jon watches him leave with a very intense glare in his rage driven eyes. He slips through the ropes and drops to the outside while again shrugging his shoulders as Jackson Adams, Jon’s age old rival, staggers out of the corner, turning towards him only to receive a sudden shot to the ribs with the crowbar. Adams drops to his knees and wraps his hands around his mid-section before Jon steps up behind Adams and cracks the crowbar right into the back of his neck. Immediately upon impact, Jackson’s eyes roll to the back of his head and he tumbles forward into the canvas, the crowd shocked by what they’re seeing from this furious Rich, acting completely unlike his normal self.
Douglas: Ohhhh, Rich assaulting Jackson with the crowbar. I’m assuming that this is the man he meant when he was talking about assaulting someone close to Desolation.
Billy: Okay, alright, you sent your message Jon, enough’s enough, you got your payback on Desolation and your long time rival Jackson, you can stop now.
Rich’s brazen eyes transfer to the entry way, expecting Desolation to come out to the aid of Jackson, but there’s no sight of him. In horrid pain Jackson pushes himself up onto his elbows and knees only for Jon to step to his side, slowly raising the crowbar above his head. He seems to be savoring this moment before he swings the bar down right into Jackson’s back, a source of constant irritation to Adams over the past few weeks. A roar of great anguish escapes Adams’ lugs as he rises to his knees, tears of pain almost rushing down his face. Rich doesn’t stop though as he steps up behind Jackson and swings the crowbar into his kidney area once again. He tumbles onto his chest and stomach with a trembling Rich steps in reverse, staring down at the Alpha Generation member who is already coughing up blood.
Mayne: No, stop this Rich, stop this! Jackson did nothing to you to deserve this type of treatment.
Douglas: You mean besides being a constant thorn in Jon Rich’s side since the Rumble Bash?
Billy: Um, yeah?
Jon’s eyes are full of rage and intensity as he turns towards the entry way.
Jon: COME ON DESOLATION!! Get out here right now you piece of shit! Come out here and face me!!
There is no sight of the Dark Man, just a set of swaying curtains hanging in the entry way. This further enrages Jon, almost forcing his hand as he shakes his head and steps up behind Adams, sticking the crowbar out in front of his throat. He pulls it up against Jackson’s jugular, choking him out almost immediately. Jackson’s eyes open wide with shock as blood flows from the corners of his mouth, Jon rearing in reverse, strangling him horribly. The features of the AG member have become a bright shade of red, just like the claret rolling down the corners of his mouth, dribbling down onto his chest. Jon pulls further in reverse on the crowbar, almost breaking the neck of Adams in the process, who is gagging, drooling and bleeding all at once. His eyes are fluttering, trying to remain open, but finding himself bordering on unconsciousness.
Rich: You can stop this Desolation, you can stop this if you come out here now and face me like a motherfucking man!!
The Dark Man is nowhere to be found, remaining backstage as the agony continues to be inflicted on his own Alpha Gen teammate, leaving him completely in the lurch. Jon rips at Jackson’s throat further with the crowbar, causing him to spit up more blood in the process.
Mayne: Somebody stop this, please stop this! Desolation, just come out here and fight Jon already and squash him, don’t sacrifice Adams to send a message!
Douglas: This is pathetic, Rich using Jackson to drawl Desolation out here, yet he won’t budge from wherever he is backstage.
Jon continues to glare towards the curtains but now closes his eyes and shakes his head in disgust, realizing he’s going to have to kick this up a notch. That’s when he takes the crowbar away from Adams’ throat and allows him to drop to the canvas, unable to force himself to inflict any further punishment on his helpless victim. He steps in reverse, shaking his head while Jackson convulses on the canvas, continuing to choke up blood.
Mayne: You bastard Jon, what have you done to Jackson Adams, what have you done to him!?!
Douglas: Just like Desolation used Roxas to send a message to Rich, Jon has used Jackson to send a message to Desolation. Who else is going to become a victim in this war between both men?
COMMERCIAL BREAK
DO YOURSELF A FAVOR, AND GO TO A GOOD WRESTLING SCHOOL
RIVER ANGELUS & SHAWN LOGAN VS. ROBIN BROOKS & JON RICH
The camera returns to the ringside area where a very badly bloodied Jackson Adams is positioned on top of a stretcher. Besides the claret that flows down his face he also coughs up blood from his lungs, have taken quite the savage beat-down as a result of his affiliation with Desolation. The EMTs gathered around him seem to be very, very concerned about his condition as he’s taken to the backstage area. Inside the ring Jon Rich is continuing to pace, looking ever so furious that Desolation has yet to arrive. Blood still seeps from his fingers and spills to the canvas below as he marches back and forth like he were an animal caged and forced to wait for his feedings, but all the while desiring nothing more than the thrill of the hunt.
Mayne: Welcome back and all that guff, I can’t believe this, I’m just sick to my stomach. I think what just happened to Jackson Adams may have triggered me to go into a male period or something.
Douglas: Given your gender ambiguous nature that actually wouldn’t surprise me, but you hit the nail on the head, Jackson Adams may have been permanently put on the shelf as a result of this vicious assault from Jon Rich. I’ve never seen him like this before, never, this feud with Desolation has most definitely changed him drastically.
Mayne: And not for the best, how could he do this to Jackson Adams? A man who devoted his heart and soul to this company? I swear I’m about to start bleeding from the penis or something.
Jon continues to scowl in the direction of the entry way, intent on not leaving until Desolation comes out to face him man to man, yet there are still no signs of an uncaring Dark Man. This only further compounds the rage brewing deeply within Jon Rich, forcing him to tremble in absolute outrage.
Jon: Come on Desolation! GET OUT HERE!!
There is still no sign of the Dark Man, who fails to materialize through the curtains when Payback hits the PA system and causes the crowd to rise to their feet, watching on in shock at the sight of yet another ULW veteran making his return to the ring tonight. The one and only River Angelus strolls through the curtains clutching a microphone with the particularly large and imposing Shawn Logan standing behind him, neither man being the ones that Jon wanted to see at this point in time. He just breaths harder and heavier, his eyes overflowing with intensity as the two individuals waltz without a care in the world onto the ramp, Jackson being rolled past them on a stretcher.
Douglas: And look at this Billy, another long time veteran returning here tonight, River Angelus coming back to wrestling here in the IWC, and he’s brought this powerhouse Shawn Logan with him. Of course I don’t think now is the right time for them to try and come out and make a splash.
Mayne: I like the sight of any man who might put Jon in his place, regardless of who they are. Who does Jon think he is, the crazy version of David Flair, randomly attacking people with that crowbar?
River taps on the top of his microphone several times while staring about his surroundings, slowly raising it to his slightly grinning lips.
River: My, my, my, I guess the old saying is true, the more things change the more they stay the same. For example, last time I was competing for this company, albeit under much better initials, I was considered an undiscovered talent, a man not given the opportunities he should have had thrown at him, a man constantly overlooked because I was just too talented. Now look at what’s going on, instead of having my return trumpeted, I’ve been pushed to the side so this Jon Rich character can play captain Insano.
Shawn taps Angelus on his shoulder and requests the mic be brought towards his lips.
Shawn: Actually that was Paul Wight in the Waterboy.
Angelus: Is that the one with the guy as a male prostitute sleeping with all the skanky ladies?
Logan shakes his head sympathetically.
Logan: No, it’s the one with the retarded guy who likes to tackle grown men, kind of like what we’re suppose to do tonight in the ring.
River suddenly feigns exciting as he pulls the microphone back to his lips.
River: Oh well, both movies suck yet we’ll probably still end up renting them on laserdisc when we get through with this little annoyance.
Logan: We’re booked tonight?
Angelus: Yeah, something about a tag tournament or whatever. The point is I’m outraged over being overlooked or something like that, I kind of forgot now.
Angelus scratches at his temple, trying to recall what his whole point was before just giving up and shrugging his shoulders.
River: Oh the hell with it, let’s just go double team this crazy bastard and get this over with.
Although not really wishing to compete Logan can’t argue with that, shrugging his shoulders and starting down the ramp, following Angelus towards Jon who groans. He throws his crowbar out of the ring though and bends forward, urging both men to enter.
Douglas: Jon out numbered here, and the new tag team of long time veteran River Angelus and newcomer Shawn Logan marching right down his throat.
Billy: Good to see Robin actually realized it was smarter to stay in the back then come out here and compete in this match. It would kind of be pointless in the long run anyhow as River and Logan would easily defeat them.
River and Shawn jump onto the apron, grinning in the direction of Rich who is turning between both men, getting himself ready for the physicality that is about to be unleashed. That’s when Rumor hits the PA system, causing everyone in the arena to respond with a loud ovation at the sight of a determined, yet unfocused Robin Brooks marching through the curtains. Angelus and Shawn look over their shoulders and groan, realizing they’ll actually have to compete in a standard tag match. Jon is more upset than ever at the sight of the Black Widow making her way towards the ring, against his wishes. She seems intent on helping him regardless of rather he wants her help or not. Logan and Angelus step far apart and graciously motion towards the inside of the ring, being gentlemanly for a change. This doesn’t stop Brooks from glaring at both men then rushing towards the ring, sliding in under the cables before hopping to her feet, shooting a cold stare in the direction of her opponents. Jon has already exited the ring now, stepping into his corner and leaving her alone in the ring.
Dan: Even though Jon doesn’t want her help, Robin is here, and she’s stepping into that ring to have Jon’s back in this tag team tournament match.
Mayne: He doesn’t want to team with her, she should get a freaking clue, buy a damn vowel, or whatever.
Robin Brooks is starting out the match for her team, mostly because Jon just left the ring, abandoning her. He stands in his corner with a very apathetic expression on his face as River holds his palms up in the Black Widow’s direction. Stepping forward slowly he rows his fingers around one another and then slowly sits down on the canvas, insisting Brooks step forward and pin him. He drops onto his spine, interlocking his hands and placing them behind the back of his head as he leans his skull against it. The returning veteran yawns as he waits for Robin to get on with it already, Brooks staring all around in complete and utter befuddlement.
Billy: What the hell? River is lying down for Robin?
Douglas: I guess so, he doesn’t want to be involved in this match apparently.
Shawn Logan nods his head towards River, informing him that it’s okay, as he really doesn’t want to be involved in this match in the first place, rather relieved in fact that he won’t have to do to any wrestling. Robin looks over her shoulder at a vengeful Rich who is sliding his finger across his throat, signifying that he might just mangle her himself. That’s when Brooks steps towards Angelus and begins to drop down on top of him when River rolls onto his knees and starts laughing hysterically. He holds his arms over his stomach, laughing so hard he’s about to cry while Robin stands upright confused and angered.
River: Oh, I can’t believe you fell for that, you too Shawn.
An agitated Logan rolls his eyes before his partner turns back to face the peeved Black Widow.
Angelus: It so makes you vulnerable for things like this.
Angelus reaches out, taking hold of the back of Robin’s leg, dragging it out from beneath her. She crashes hard onto her back as River scoots forward, dropping into the cover with great haste.
1
Robin kicks out, as she and Angelus dash to their feet, as soon as they stand River yells and closes his fist, going for a strike to his opponent’s jaw. Robin spots this and drops back, covering her face with her arms for her own protection while River stops and begins chuckling, his fist suspended in mid-air. He lifts two fingers up into the air in front of Robin’s face.
Angelus: That’s twice now I’ve got you.
Annoyed Robin rolls her eyes and rises to her feet once more, Angelus now apologizing for his behavior and extending his palm outward, looking for a shake. As Brooks reaches out to take it she changes her mind and throws a boot into River’s gut, doubling him over. Robin now steps in and drills him to the side of the face with a forearm, followed by a second strike that almost knocks him to the canvas. The Black Window steps to River’s side, slapping her arm around his neck and placing him in a side headlock submission. He counters by beginning to run forward, but placing his hand to her upper back, shoving her off while sticking his leg out in front of hers. Brooks trips over it and collapses forward onto the canvas while Angelus steps to one side of her, Robin reaching out for his legs. He jumps into the air and lands on the opposite side of her now, Robin turning as she reaches out for his legs again, only for Angelus to jump over her once more. He avoids her grip as Brooks looks to be becoming frustrated, Angelus lifting his fingers into the air, snapping them as Robin now lies on her gut, smiling from ear to ear. With incredible speed she pushes herself up to her elbows and knees then swings around with an extension of her leg, sweeping the back of Angelus’ legs and taking them out from under him. River crashes onto his back hard while Robin crawls forward, placing her shoulders to the back of his legs.
1
Angelus kicks out with quickness this time while Brooks steps towards him, delivering a straight kick to his chest. The shot causes River to stand up straight before Robin spins around and goes for a straight roundhouse back kick to his face. She hits it directly to his forehead, knocking Angelus onto his spine. Shawn is in the middle of ordering a beer from a vender with a suspiciously large nose and an odd thick porn mustache, who is gracious to give it to him.
Billy: That little minx and her kicks.
Douglas: Robin showing that karate style offence she’s renowned for by assaulting Angelus with those kicks, completely fed up with his antics.
Mayne: He’s still funnier than Carrot Top.
Robin steps backwards, appearing pleased with herself after that kick before she’s tagged on the shoulder by Rich, who quickly enters the ring. He points to the outside and demands she vacate the squared circle while she just glares at him miffed. After a moment of reflecting she slips through the ropes while Rich steps towards a slowly rising River, who has gotten to his knees. He steps in and pops him across the face, delivering a second fist strike to the side of his face. Angelus is almost knocked over with each blow before Rich takes him under the jaw, leading him to his feet then knocking him to his back with a sensational chop right across the sternum. Angelus almost looses his footing from both blows before Jon steps in with another wild chop aimed at his chest. River ducks this one and steps behind Rich before throwing his own chop at the sternum of a turning Rich. Somehow Jon side steps the chop, causing River to spin around and receive another strike right to his sternum. River is taken down to the canvas while Rich steps towards him, taking hold of Angelus’ hair. He forces him up to his feet, an abnormally aggressive Rich slugging him right across the face, the impact staggers River towards the ropes when he steps in, taking him by the wrist. Jon whips him across the ring, sending Angelus hitting the cables back first then coming in at Rich who bends forward, catching him by the leg. He hoists River up into the air then drops back into a hard flapjack slam, driving Angelus’ small body with force against the canvas. An intense Rich crawls into the cover on him now, hooking his leg already.
1
2
River kicks out, launching his shoulder off the canvas as he sits up, Jon scooting up behind him, locking his arms about his throat. Jon has him trapped in the headlock, really wrenching at it with gritting teeth, the intensity plain as day in his face. He seems intent on breaking River’s neck, not getting a submission, perhaps picturing Desolation’s head on Angelus’ body. That’s when River pushes himself up to his feet, forcing Jon up as well as he keeps trying to hold onto the sleeper hold. Suddenly River reaches up, taking Jon around the back of his head and beginning to pluck hairs from his scalp. With each plucked hair Jon only gets more angry until River finally falls to his seat, pulling a momentarily preoccupied Rich down into a jaw breaker. River now falls backwards, lifting up with his legs and wrapping them around one of Jon’s, pulling the N.H.B champion down with a modified drop toe hold. River rolls away from Jon and then dives at his arms, grabbing hold of it and lifting it up to his side. The N.H.B champion finds himself trapped in an armbar by Angelus, who rises to his feet, his much larger opponent standing up at his side as River backs towards his corner. He reaches out, tagging the hand of the gigantically proportioned Logan, well big in comparison to his opponents. He steps over the ropes then kicks Rich hard to the gut before taking him around the arm, swinging around under it and placing him in the arm ringer.
Douglas: That big and powerful Shawn Logan now in the ring, targeting the arm of Rich, picking up exactly where his partner Angelus left off.
Mayne: I hope that arm is ripped to pieces by this apathetic yet massive individual.
With Jon’s arm trapped out to his side, River jumps over the cables onto the apron then springs up onto the top rope, soaring through the air before delivering a front dropkick right to the bicep of the N.H.B title holder. Rich’s wrist is released as he turns away from his opponents, grinding his teeth from the anguish coursing through his arm, but quickly spinning to face Logan who takes him under his arm, hoisting him up into the air. He holds him in a side buster slam position only for River to charge into the cables at his side, springing up onto the second rope, then turning in mid-air, extending his leg and dropping it across Jon’s throat while trapped in the side buster slam position. Both men drop to the canvas at the same time, adding emphasis to the move. Jon cover his throat and his back after being hit with those two hard hitting moves in conjunction while Logan turns towards him and takes hold of his arm. He lifts it up into the air and applies the armbar once again, pushing down his elbow with his large palm, creating a great deal of anguish for the N.H.B champion. Jon begins to rock his body back and forth, attempting to find a means in which to escape this armbar before he rolls over in reverse right onto his feet. As soon as he stands up, Logan gets to his feet in front of him and whips him right across the ring into the opposite ropes. Jon bounces off those cables and comes back into the waiting shoulders of Logan, who catches him into a fireman’s carry but then pushes him high up into the air with a gorilla press. Rich catches tremendous height before finally coming crashing back down to the canvas with tremendous velocity, the fans reacting with shock at the sight of this.
Jon rises to his knees, holding his arms over his chest and with his palm placed to his forehead. Just as he starts to get his thoughts straight, Shawn rushes forward and boots him hard to the cranium, knocking him over onto his back. As soon as he ends up on his spine, Logan jumps over him and rushes into the cables, bouncing off them coming back in as he jumps into the air, catching tremendous height before coming down into an elbow drop. The N.H.B Champion turns away from his larger opponent, placing his hands over his sternum while Logan gets up, still appearing apathetic yet demanding that Jon rise to his feet. A pain ridden Rich gets to his elbows, trying to stand up before Seth steps to his side, placing his arms around his waist, locking him in a side wasitlock then hoisting him into the air. He pulls Jon up right onto his shoulder, looking for a powerbomb until Rich squirms from side to side, sliding off his shoulder and landing on his feet behind his back. He reaches in reverse, wrapping his arms around Logan’s neck, appearing ready to deliver the reverse neckbreaker. That’s when Shawn spins around and wraps his arms around Jon’s waist, setting up for a German suplex until the champion starts to kick his legs and rush forward towards the ropes. Logan is still clutching his waist tightly before Jon hits the cables chest first, that’s when his opponent drops back, trying to roll him over in reverse into perhaps some type of pinfall. Instead of achieving a pin Jon rolls over in reverse, sitting on the back of Seth’s legs then flipping over in reverse so that he lands on his knees behind the shoulders of a sitting up Logan. Seth rises to his feet as Jon stands up behind him, turning his body and catching the giant around his neck before dragging him down into a huge reverse neckbreaker.
Douglas: Jon Rich finally hitting the reverse neckbreaker that he was looking for on Logan.
Mayne: It only took like thirty counters to get back to it.
Jon stands up and turns towards Logan, who is already forcing himself over onto his knee, trying to force himself up. Just as he starts to stand Rich kicks him hard to the upper back, then delivers a swift shot to his chest before finally balancing himself and diving forward into a hard front dropkick right to the side of Logan’s skull. The collision knocks him from his knee and sends him rolling across the canvas right onto his back while Jon gets to his feet and turns to face River, who has charged head long right into Jon. Rich bends forward and catches him against his shoulders, standing up straight as he holds him in a fireman’s carry, then pushes him around into a diamond cutter TKO where his body lands right on top of Shawn, the crowd reacting with a loud pop.
Jon rises to his feet and turns to face Robin who has her hand extended as far out as it will go. With a groan Rich steps towards her and makes the tag, putting her into this match much to his chagrin while Brooks steps across the apron. As River tries to push himself up to a crawling base over top of Shawn, Robin springs up onto the top rope and now flips forward into a senton splash right across Angelus’ spine. He is pushed down with tremendous force right into his tag team partner once again while Robin rolls across the canvas onto her feet. River spills onto his spine, holding his back while Shawn rolls towards the X-Class Champion, who has her back aimed in his direction. As soon as he gets close enough, Robin springs into the air, flipping over in reverse into the moonsault. She hits the splash directly across Shawn’s ribs then uses both of her arms to hoist his leg into the air, going for the pinfall.
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Shawn gets to one elbow while still holding his ribs as Brooks steps to his side and kicks upward right into his face. The shot causes Logan to rise to his knees, his eyes fluttering a bit while Robin lifts her other foot into the air, grabbing hold of it as she holds it behind his head. She then lets go of her foot, allowing it to deliver a vicious kick directly to the back of Logan’s skull, causing him to land on his fists, shaking his head in pain. That’s when Robin rushes into the cables in front of him, bouncing off then coming back in with a huge front dropkick right to his forehead. Logan is knocked from his crawling base and sent rolling onto his back while Robin turns and crawls again into a quick cover, throwing all of her weight on top of his wide frame.
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With quickness Logan lobs his shoulder from the canvas, turning away from Brooks in the process while shaking his head in the process. An irritated Black Widow crawls up behind Shawn, wrapping her arms around his thick neck, placing him in the sleeper hold, attempting to get a submission on her much larger opponent.
Douglas: Robin looking to force a submission on Logan.
Mayne: A hundred pound woman trying to make a close to 300 pounder submit? A midget have a better chance of accomplishing this than Robin.
An irritated Logan begins to force his way upwards while getting to a single knee while Brooks still holds onto the sleeper, much like Jon was a few moments ago. As soon as Sean gets to both knees though, Robin does a frontward flip over his head, catching him around the neck and turning it into a flip over stunner. The impact causes Logan’s eyes to flutter while he grabs his jaw only to have Robin turn, wrapping her arms around his neck and twisting at his head with the neck cravat. An intense Logan tries to pry the arms apart from about his neck while again trying to force himself up to his feet. As soon as he stands the Black Widow lobs a knee into his mid-section, again doubling him over while Brooks charges backwards into the ropes. The Black Widow bounces off and comes back in at him, catching him around the neck as she goes for a swinging neckbreaker only to have Shawn spin out of it. He turns to face Robin’s back, catching her by both arms in a full nelson and then hoist her into the air, turning as he delivers the half nelson back breaker. Brooks’ spine cracks hard over his knee until she flips over in reverse right onto her knees in front of Shawn who is quick to slap on a front chancery. He forces her to the her feet then lifts her into the air in a vertical suplex position, instead of hitting that move he twists Brooks around and drops her with a modified falcon arrow. The Black Widow’s body is driven with vile force against the canvas while she pops up onto her seat, reaching for her neck in agony.
Mayne: Its about time this newcomer got in some sustained offense. I was beginning to think he was the equivalent of a paper weight, or eye candy in there. Only it’s the really sour type of candy, the type that makes you question rather you like sugary things in your mouth or not.
Douglas: I’m sure you have no problem sticking anything in your mouth Billy, but that’s a discussion for you and your parents to have, right now we’ve got a very competitive match going on in this tag team tournament.
An intense yet otherwise apathetic Shawn rolls across the ring towards River who has finally stood up in his corner, holding his ribs in pain as his hand is slapped. As soon as he’s tagged in, Shawn steps towards Robin, grabbing her by the hair then forcing her to her feet by gripping her wrist then dragging her into his shoulders. He stands up, holding her in a fireman’s carry while turning his back towards the ropes that River has sprung on top of, flying off then connecting with a knee right to the back of Brooks’ head. The Champion grips at the back of her neck while River drops onto his back, getting his knees up into the air for Shawn who pulls Brooks down into the death valley driver that drops Brooks spine first right on top of those knees. Brooks rolls across the canvas, arching her spine and screaming in pain before she ends up on her back, stomping her heels against the canvas. Shawn quickly steps towards his partner who has rolled over onto his elbows, taking him around the neck in a front chancery then dragging him up to his feet before hoisting him into the air in a vertical suplex position. River flips out of it though and turns into an assisted 450 splash right across Robin’s mid-section, the crowd reacting with tremendous enthusiasm at the sight of such a tag team move. He hooks the leg of Brooks while Shawn vacates the ring, watching intently.
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Jon enters the ring and drops a knee to the back of River’s head, breaking up the pinfall to cheers from the crowd. Jon rises to his feet and exits the squared circle with a set of trembling lips, his anger intensifying by every passing second that he fails to get his hands on Desolation, all the while forced to help out Brooks. Throughout being conflicted by his emotions, Robin has begun to stir, turning onto her elbows and knees, all the while still reaching for her spine. That’s before River steps towards her and delivers a spinning jab directly to the side of her face, the force of the shot taking her right back down to the canvas. Angelus then steps towards her legs, taking hold of them and lifting them up under his pits. A smirk comes to River’s face with his spine facing Shawn, who puts his boot over the ropes, Angelus dropping back and catapulting Robin face first right into it. Her skull bounces off the soul of his thick boot and causes Robin to stagger in reverse right into River who now catches her with a school boy into the pin.
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Robin kicks out quickly, but as soon as she does, Angelus takes hold of her arm, swinging around it and placing her in a hammerlock with the use of his legs. He reaches out across her back and hooks her other arm before dropping forward, rolling over into a mahistrial cradle.
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Before the hand can slap the canvas a third time, Robin kicks out, dropping over onto her elbows and knees with Angelus quickly, fluidly swinging his leg over her head and placing his knees into her armpits. He drops forward, pushing the Black Widow over onto the back of her shoulders, causing her to stand up on top of them in a pinfall.
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Robin kicks out once more, dropping down to her knees then forcing herself to her feet, stepping with quickness towards a hunched over River who takes her legs out from under her. Robin falls onto her spine while Angelus turns, aiming his back in the direction of his corner, where Shawn again sticks his boot over the cables. Angelus drops in reverse, catapulting Brooks towards the boot when she transitions her body, turning and delivering a dropkick directly to the chest of the massive Logan. The impact knocks him off the apron and causes him to spill onto his back against the mats.
Douglas: A very acrobatic counter by Robin Brooks! She turned a catapult into a dropkick, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that done before.
Billy: I’ve seen it done, but usually its under a big top tent and people are dressed much more homo-erotically.
Dan: Well your either talking about the circus or what goes on in the backyard during family reunions.
Mayne: One time Dan, one time and I never hear the end of it…oh wait, you were being sarcastic weren’t you?
The crowd is trying to rally behind Robin who has risen to her feet and turns towards Angelus who jumps into the air, swinging his foot in her direction, going for a huge back heel kick. Brooks ducks it though and then stands on her head before flipping off of it right onto her feet, she turns with cat like quickness towards Angelus who spins around, catching her with a deliberate, stiff kick right to the gut. The Black Widow bends forward, shouting in pain as a result, now in a prone position for Angelus who turns and rushes into the cables in front of her, building momentum for some type of hard hitting move. He bounces off the cables and comes back in at Robin who suddenly jumps into the air, delivering a hard spinning heel kick directly to his face. The shot knocks River onto her back while Robin rolls across the canvas onto her spine, then nips up right onto her feet. As soon as she lands in a standing base she grips her ribs, turning towards River who scrambles to his feet. Just when he gets up, Robin rushes forward into a lariat to his throat, knocking him down to the canvas. He rolls across the ring and rises to a standing base once more when Robin catches him under the jaw with a hard karate style thrust kick that again takes him down to the canvas. The Black Widow’s burst of adrenaline seems to be fading as she doubles over, almost losing her foot. Her eyes briefly divert towards Rich who is slapping his palms together, demanding she make the tag and put him in there, as although his ribs are bothering him he’s still the freshest person in this match.
To his befuddlement, Robin shakes her head “no” and thrusts her arms through the air then points towards herself.
Robin: No, I’ve got to do this, I’ve got to make up for what I did to you.
Jon submerges his face into the palm of his hand, shaking his head, as Brooks turns back towards Angelus who is utilizing the cables to drag himself to his feet. As soon as he stands up, Brooks comes rushing in only for Angelus to catch her against his shoulders, attempting to back drop her over the cables when Robin grabs the top rope. She floats over it and lands right on her feet on the apron as Angelus turns towards her and receives a kick over the cables right to the side of his head. The shot knocks him through a loop, causing his eyes to roll to the back of his head as he turns away from her. Robin turns in the nick of time though to spot Shawn who is rushing forward with a big boot, giving her the opportunity to drop through the cables back into the ring. Logan misses with the attempted boot to her face and as a result staggers forward across the ring until Brooks slips through the cables onto the apron behind him, rushing forward and delivering a hard dropkick to the back of his knee. The collision takes the legs out from under Logan and causes him to twist as he comes crashing down to the mats across his face and chest.
The fans are putting their hands together while Robin stands up and takes hold of the ropes, turning to face River who is still trying to get his head straight after that kick to the temple. She now jumps over the cables, twisting her body so that she comes down with her shins on top of River’s shoulders, going for a leg scissors. That’s when River suddenly pushes up on the shins and then twists his body, stepping under her mid-section that comes down top of his shoulders. The fans’ reaction is mixed as River drags her away from the ropes and rushes across the ring, dragging her over into a death valley driver that plants her hard across the canvas on the back of her neck.
Douglas: What a shocking counter by River Angelus against Robin, who is apparently sticking it out for her team, which may be the biggest mistake she’s ever made.
Mayne: No, I think her relationship with Killjoy ranks higher on the list of regrets, but this is almost equally as stupid. She’s sustained such a beat-down and yet she’s trying to stick in there out of some fruitless attempt at making things up to Rich? Only a woman.
The response from the sold out crowd continues to be a mixed one while River rolls across the canvas towards his corner, gripping at the back of his neck in the process. Shawn just barely had time to pull himself back up when he’s tagged into this match, River pointing down at Robin, demanding he finish her off. An irritated Shawn slips through the cables and approaches the slowly rising Robin, beginning to stomp his foot against the canvas, he’s setting up for that brutal superkick of his colorfully dubbed the One Hit Wonder. He stomps his foot once more as Brooks begins to stand up in front of him, trying her best to keep her head straight. As soon as she turns towards Logan though, she has to think quickly as his boot flies towards her face. Showing her agility she does a matrix like backwards bridge, Logan’s foot missing her head as a result and turning his back towards her side. She drops to her spine and twists with her back, reaching up with both arms, wrapping them around Logan’s waist then pulling him down into a sunset flip pinning predicament.
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Somehow Shawn shoots his shoulder from the canvas in the nick of time, rolling over in reverse just like Brooks. Robin runs forward when Logan bends down, catching her thighs against his palms and throwing her up into the air over his head. To cheers from the crowd Brooks lands on her feet behind him and staggers forward into her corner, where Rich reaches over the ropes, tagging her shoulder. A shocked Shawn spins around when Jon springs onto the top rope and then flies across the ring, giving him a lariat to the throat. The collision knocks him from his feet and sends him hurling to the canvas with force, Jon landing on his knees at his side.
Douglas: Well, rather she wanted to make the tag or not, its just been made and now Jon Rich is in there, and he looks as if he’s really cooking against this opposition.
Mayne: Yeah, he must be cooking, because I can smell all the smoldering fat and grease from over here.
Dan: Um, that’s coming from your George Foreman Grilling Machine.
Billy: Oh, I almost forgot I was making smoked sausage, and your not getting any!
Rich rises to his feet and turns in the direction of River who is flying through the air, just having sprung from the top rope as well. He doesn’t meet with the same result as Jon though, only being caught around the waist and pulled out of the air before dropping back into the belly to belly suplex. Angelus is sent flipping over, crashing hard to the canvas across his back while Jon stands and turns towards Logan who rushes forward with a big lariat that the N.H.B Champion rolls under. He gets to his feet and charges into the cables, jumping onto the second one then springing off as he twists around in mid-air, Logan turning to spot him and being caught around the neck. Shawn is pulled down and around into a hard hitting tornado DDT, his skull crashing with force against the canvas. He now rolls onto his back, looking completely taken out while Jon gets to his feet, spinning to face Angelus who is utilizing the cables to pull himself up. As he leans against then Jon steps in and delivers a hard roundhouse kick directly to the jaw, sending him twisting and spilling over the top rope before crashing hard to the outside mats. Jon now grabs the top rope, balancing himself and waiting for River to get to his feet on the outside mats, yet Angelus, who doesn’t appear to have missed a step in his time away from the ring, finds it trying to force himself up. Jon begins to pull himself over the cables before he turns and spots Shawn rising to his knee, trying to get up. Rich now decides to jump over the ropes onto the apron, following that by springing onto the top cable and taking flight towards his slowly standing opponent. Suddenly Shawn jumps into the air and twists his body, connecting with a hard knee strike directly to the champion’s face.
The fans are shocked by the acrobatic counter as Jon lies on his back across the ring, his eyes rolling to the back of his head after that move, Shawn rising to his feet beside him. That’s when Robin comes rushing in, trying to aid her partner, she jumps over Jon then lunges into the air, landing on Logan’s shoulders for a hurricarana only to be powerbombed spine first directly into the ribcage of the N.H.B Champion. The fans react with shock as Robin bounces off his mid-section, rolling in reverse onto her knees and gripping her spine. Logan steps around her and bends down, burying his shoulder to her spine then lifting her up into the air in a back drop position before extending her leg outward. He drops forward, pulling the Black Widow’s leg down directly into the throat of Jon, causing them to both begin convulsing on the canvas, Robin holding her posterior and Rich gripping at his throat. Logan crawls forward into a pin on Rich, hooking the Champion’s leg with a malicious glint in his eyes.
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Jon kicks out barely in time to avoid the pinfall, infuriating Logan who rises to his knees and slides his hands through his hair.
Douglas: Logan almost got the pinfall on Rich, meaning he and Angelus would advance in this very competitive tournament, but Jon displaying why he’s held that N.H.B title for over five months now.
Mayne: If he defended it against opponents who actually count instead of being given a pampered schedule, that belt probably wouldn’t be in his possession right now, and that’s exactly what Logan is showing him right now.
Dan: Pampered schedule? Just do what you always do and shove sausage in your mouth and shut up.
Logan grabs hold of Jon’s hair and drags him up to his feet before taking him by the wrist, whipping him with force right into the turnbuckle. He turns and hits it hard spine first before Shawn comes barreling in, lifting his foot as he drives it right into Jon’s face, the chodo kick almost taking his opponent’s head off. Logan pulls his leg off the cable while Jon barely remains standing, his arms still draped over the cables, keeping him upright. Now that he’s confident that one opponent has been dealt with Shawn turns towards Robin who steps in and jabs him to the face, following it up with another punch directly to the jaw. Each shot almost takes Logan down to the canvas yet he maintains his balance only long enough to receive a knee to the gut. Shawn is bent forward as Brooks turns and rushes across the ring into the cables in front of him, bouncing off then coming back in. That’s when Logan rushes forward, catching Robin and swinging her around into a vicious spinning powerslam that drives her hard spine first into the canvas. Shawn immediately hooks her leg, going for the pinfall only to have the official duck down in front of him, informing him that Robin is not the legal person. A mildly outraged Logan rises to his knees before he finds his anger subsiding, turning towards Rich who is trying to keep his head straight as he staggers out of the corner. A diabolical grin comes to Logan’s face as he reaches down, taking Robin by the legs and turning his back towards Rich. He drops in reverse, attempting to catapult Brooks into Jon only for her to extend her feet out while mid-flight, burying them to Rich’s gut. She wraps her hands around the back of his head then drops in reverse, monkey flipping Rich through the air right towards Shawn. Logan stands and turns as Rich lands on his shoulders, pulling him around into a hurricarana that has the crowd going absolutely insane.
Shawn flips over, crashing hard into the canvas then arching his back from the ring, shouting in pain while Rich starts to force himself to his feet. Robin is wiped out on her side as Logan rolls to his elbows and knees into a crawling base, Jon standing up beside him. That’s when River Angelus rolls into the ring then rushes across it, stepping off Logan’s back, using him as a step to launch himself towards Rich, landing on his shoulders and pulling him around into his own hurricarana. The crowd puts their hands together, again finding themselves screaming over these acrobatic moves, Rich flipped over hitting the ring with force. River rises to his feet and turns towards Robin who is trying to force herself to a standing base. Knowing that she’s prone, River comes charging in only for Brooks to turn and bend forward, causing him to leap frog her at the last second. He lands behind her back then turns towards her spine when Robin stands and goes for a spinning heel kick at his face, Angelus ducking it then rushing into the ropes in front of her. He steps up the cables, reaching the top one then launches himself off, twisting in mid-air and hitting a huge lariat directly to her throat. The Falling Angel connects and as a result takes Brooks’ legs out from beneath her, sending her crashing hard to the canvas.
Douglas: Some very acrobatic moves being hit by both of these teams in what has been a grueling tournament match thus far.
Mayne: Here I thought the last tournament match was a show stealer, but this one tonight is threatening to upset that previous bout.
Douglas: This definitely has been a very impressive match thus far between four great in ring talents.
The crowd is on their feet as River turns in the direction of Jon, who has just forced himself to his feet. He steps in quickly and takes Jon around the neck, setting up for the Final Credits as Rich backs towards the cables. Angelus shoots his arm into the air, signaling for his finisher when Jon stands up straight and throws River over his shoulder and over the ropes. River twists in mid-air and comes crashing down from a tremendous height side first against the mats, his skull cracking against them as well. Jon leans back first against the cables now with the fans still screaming with a very dazed Logan is trying to stand up in front of him. Jon won’t let that happen, rushing forward quickly only to receive the One Hit Wonder right to his jaw, Shawn connecting with his superkick and in the process almost knocking his head off. Rich turns and tumbles to his back, wrapping his hands around his jaw in anguish while Shawn falls to all fours beside him, unable to make the pinfall due to his lack of energy. Shawn forces himself to his feet very slowly, too disorientated to even realize that he may have the pinfall before he turns towards Brooks, who is leaning spine first against a turnbuckle at this point. He roars and comes charging in at her, jumping into the air as he aims at her skull with his knee. Somehow Brooks is able to step out of the way though, causing Logan to hit the turnbuckle, bouncing off it knee first and tumbling onto his back, rolling across the ring whiled Robin slips through the cables onto the apron. She scales the turnbuckle very quickly, getting to the very top rope then balancing herself before she flies through the air. The crowd reacts with great excitement as Brooks crashes into Shawn with the shooting star press, the Flying Star as she calls it. Shawn begins to convulse on the canvas as a result while the Black Widow rolls away from him then crawls towards Jon, taking him around the wrist and dragging him over on top of their opponent.
Mayne: What the hell!?! Shawn missing with the knee and now eats the shooting star press!?! That doesn’t sound very fair and equal.
Douglas: Rather it sounds fair it was, Robin delivered her Flying Star and now she’s dragged Rich into the cover, but the age old question remains, will that be enough to put down this tag team!?!
The crowd is still screaming as the official drops down, making the count, Rich still unconscious and having no idea he’s currently pinning his massive opponent.
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The crowd is stunned that the Black Widow has picked up a pin over River Angelus out of nowhere.
Douglas: What a shocking pinfall victory by Robin Brooks and Jon Rich! They advance in the IWC tag team tournament!
Mayne: How um, duh, this is, what!?!
Douglas: I’m almost just as speechless as you, well, actually I’m not since I’m capable of forming words, which would negate that I just said I was speechless.
Jon has rolled across the ring to his elbows and knees, twisting his head and glaring in the direction of Robin who is standing with her back to the ropes. She is absolutely exhausted from such a competitive match, utilizing the ropes to keep herself upright while River stands on the outside of the ring, leaning against he apron for support. The fans are still screaming while both champions, Jon and Robin exchange awkward stares, unsure of what to think of the other. That’s when the screams become much shriller at the sight of Psycho making his way towards the ring with an object clutched in his hand that is covered by a black clothe. Everyone stands up in the building, on edge as Psycho makes his way to the ring with a sickening twinkle in his eye and a crude smile on his face.
Mayne: Well, once again Robin’s moment in the spotlight is about to be ruined by this big dumb goofy bastard, the savage Psycho.
Douglas: If I were Robin I’d start running for the hills right now, there’s absolutely no telling what this man is going to do to her should he get his hands around her throat. And I shudder to think of what he’s got under that clothe.
Billy: Maybe it’s a puppet.
Psycho rolls under the cables as Robin looks up just in time to spot him stepping towards her, finally removing her eyes from a confused Rich. The attention of the N.H.B Champion has also been turned towards Psycho who chuckles as he rips the clothe away from a shimmering sickle. He grips at the handle and stares at Robin with devious, cruel intentions in store for her, as her eyes fill with terror, a gulp blocking her air passage.
Douglas: Oh my God, you’ve got to be kidding me, you’ve got to be kidding me! Psycho has a sickle, and I’m not talking about the crappy wrestler who got banned from SCW, I’m referring to one of the most dangerous weapons ever conceived.
Mayne: It was made to cut grass.
Dan: Well, it’s a dangerous weapon in Psycho’s possession.
The fear stricken eyes of the Black Widow cut from the sickle back to the smiling face of Psycho, who is nodding eagerly.
Psycho: This time Hurse won’t be here to save you, hahahaha.
Realizing its for the best Brooks dives through the cables and drops to the outside mats, charging towards the barricade and jumping over it. The demented Psycho gingerly steps towards the ropes she slipped through, sliding through them himself then dropping to the mats and marching towards the barricade. He steps over it with that same crude, emotionless smile on his face and not so much as even a blinking of his dementia filled eyes. Rich has pulled himself up the cables, watching all of this with disbelief, unsure of what he should be thinking as his tag team partner is being pursued by the deranged Psycho. Before he can begin to ask himself rather she should care or not, the thought of Desolation contorts every muscle in his face.
Douglas: Robin Brooks chased to the back by Psycho, who just will not stop until he gets his hands on her.
Mayne: The beatdown she’s going to receive at Breathless, is going to be legendary.
COMMERCIAL BREAK
THE THRILL OF THE HUNT
With panic clear in her overly distressed eyes the already exhausted Robin Brooks staggers through the backstage corridor, almost tripping over her feet in the process. She catches herself as the side of her body hits against a stack of crates, causing her to twist and barely keep from tumbling to the concrete below. Her fear stricken eyes dart back and forth, attempting to find anyone, anybody who can possibly help her in this forlorn moment. A chubby stagehand is standing with his back turned towards Robin, grabbing a jelly donut off the condiments table before him and trying to scarf it down without even the need for chewing. As she was staring over her shoulder, looking for Psycho and that deadly sickle who seem to be nowhere in sight, she accidentally bumps spine first into the side of the heavy set gentleman, causing him to drop his donut to the ground much to his dismay.
Stagehand: Hey lady, watch where your going, that was my friggin donut.
Not caring about the pain she may have caused this obscenely hungry young man, she turns towards him, digging her nails into his shirt, staring into his face with terror.
Robin: You’ve got to help me, you’ve got to help me, please! He’s after me, who knows what he’s going to do to me. You’ve got to help, you’ve got to!
Although the stubby, chubby man doesn’t appear to be built for protection as even Robin is able to shake his portly frame back and forth, he puts on an almost heroic expression. A kind of condescending smile can’t help but to find its way to his face though as he extends his hands and places them on Robin’s shoulders, pushing her back a bit.
Stagehand: Calm down, calm down sweety, who’s trying to get you?
Robin is almost too exhausted and terrified to express her words, to give much in the form of an explanation whatsoever. Her eyes continually dart over her shoulder, making sure Psycho isn’t standing right behind her, poised for an attack. Luckily, for her at least, he is still nowhere in sight. She takes a deep breath, relieved while turning back in the direction of the chubby lad before her.
Robin: It’s Psycho, he’s been chasing me for weeks, but tonight he’s seriously trying to get his hands on me, I’m afraid to think of what he’ll do with that sickle. You’ve got to call security, you’ve got to get me some type of help, please!
At the sight of such a lovely young lady asking for his assistance, obviously an unfamiliar occurrence for a man with so many greasy pours open in his flabby cheeks, he grins and bulks up a bit. He attempts to suck in his gut, of course that only makes him appear less obese instead of morbidly obese.
Stagehand: Don’t worry sugar, I’ll make sure the big bad man doesn’t get his hands on you…
Brooks: No, no, you don’t understand, he’s crazy, he’s not playing around here.
Stagehand: Neither am I, just look at this tattoo.
He pulls his sleeve and tries to flex his muscle, bulges of fat being created around the image stenciled into the skin on his bicep.
Robin: Is that Winnie the Poo?
Still thinking he’s tough enough to take this Psycho character, which the manly tattoo proves, he nods and grins widely. Brooks is just more flabbergasted than ever, covering her face with her palms, realizing she may be doomed at this point. That’s before he comfortably slides his arm over her shoulders and extends his hand out in front of them.
Stagehand: Here, I’ll escort you to your car my lady. I’ll make sure no big baddies get their hands on you, or use their cute little sickles…
Cute aye?
A large gulp forms in the throat of the Black Widow while the nameless, because I’m too lazy, stagehand turns at the sound of the frightening voice. Suddenly the crates that Brooks bounced off seem to explode as Psycho rips through them, holding the sickle up in the air, gripped between both his large palms. Robin turns and covers her mouth with her palm before the stagehand unleashes such a feminine, high pitched scream that it threatens to break glass. He quickly shoves Robin between himself and Psycho and scampers away, his pants almost falling down around his ankles in the process. The Black Widow doesn’t have a chance to be offended, trying to get away from Psycho only to trip her over her own feet and crash onto her posterior against the ground. The look of absolute horror in her eyes is as clear as day, recalling what happened to her just a few short weeks ago at the hands of this living, breathing monster. All she can do is slide backwards across her posterior, staring up at him in fear, unable to so much as stand, paralyzed as her eyes meet his.
Psycho: You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment my dear. Oh yes, ever since I got just a slight taste of your blood I’ve been looking forward to the banquet that will be the ripping of your flesh and the grinding of your organs. Your at my mercy now, and this time, just like at Breathless, there’s going to be no one here to save you.
Psycho lifts the sickle above his head and starts towards Robin who covers her face with her forearms, realizing she could be in for the most painful experience of her life. The sickle hovers above Psycho, who appears as if he’s truly savoring this moment, taking it all in.
Hey, what’s the meaning of this?
Just as the sickle began to come down towards Robin’s lovely head, Psycho finds himself frozen, his eyebrows rising. Robin parts her forearms just enough to see through them and take in the sight of Michelle Blacker storming towards the sadistic savage. Now that Psycho’s attention has shifted to Michelle, Robin uses this time to escape, turning as she stands and runs off quickly. The former World Champion tries to go after her but Michelle steps in his way, her hot leather clothing squeaking in the process. Again Psycho tries to step past her, this time on the opposite side only for her to step in his way. Her persistence is starting to upset him, causing him to squeeze the handle of the sickle very tightly, about to use it. Michelle looks down, seeing that his hand trembles as it holds the very dangerous weapon.
Michelle: Ew, nice, why don’t you go ahead and use it Psycho? Might as well as not let that sickle go to waste.
The anger in Psycho’s eyes momentarily subsides and is replaced by confusion. It proves to be a bewilderment that works over his whole tensed frame. The momentary doubt that abounds throughout him seems to anger Michelle.
Michelle: Pfft, you disappoint me, you really do. Here I am standing before you, ready and oh so very willing to take my punishment, to bleed at your hands, and the only thing you can think about is Robin. What makes her so special? I cost you a match too, so why does she deserve to be beaten and brutalized more than me? If your trying to make me jealous, its working.
The sadistic one finds himself even more confused as Michelle’s hands slide onto his pecs, stepping with no hesitation towards him and staring up into his eyes with affection mixed with dementia.
Blacker: Robin is nothing, she can’t scream like I can. She runs from the prospect of pain, and I embrace it. I won’t run away Psycho, I’ll gladly accept anything you give to me. So go ahead, cut my skin with that sickle, bleed me dry. Beat me, bruise me, bury me, do whatever your sick little mind desires, I won’t complain, but I will scream. Oh yes, I’ll scream plenty, all for you.
Her hands slide down his stomach, Psycho remaining quiet as he breaths heavily and intensely, his grasp on the sickle weakening a bit as her fingers find their way below the belt line. Its clear that her hands are headed someplace far too few have went below, and as soon as Psycho realizes that he grabs her by the wrist, squeezing it tightly. He pulls her hand away from his lower extremities and causes her knees to almost buckle from the pain. The shockwaves of anguish cause a shaky smile to come to her face while she slowly licks at her pouting lips. Psycho continues to say nothing or so much as even show the slightest sign of emotion as he glares into the lovely woman’s eyes.
Michelle: That’s the spirit baby, but you got to twist it a little more to get me really going.
Psycho lets go of her hand and shoves her aside, causing her to hit the condiments table back first, almost falling over it in the process. She catches herself and glares at Psycho as if deeply, deeply turned on by the physicality between them. He doesn’t allow himself to be eye candy to her for long, not so much as even paying attention to her before he marches off down the corridor, going after Robin. The fact that she’s been ignored causes Michelle’s mouth to open slowly while she steps away from the condiments table, tears beginning to welt in her eyes.
Blacker: Wait, we were starting to have so much fun. What makes her so special? What!?! God damn you Robin Brooks!!
In a fit she turns and begins to grab things off the condiments table, throwing them around, one of the plates busting against a wall. She now grabs a coffee pot full of boiling hot caffeine and tosses it with force against the concrete floor, causing it to break it into many shards of glass as well. That’s when she falls knees first into the glass, causing her to groan and moan sexually at the same time, getting her momentary fix, a fix Psycho failed to provide.
WHAT HAPPENED?
A mixed ovation sounds throughout the arena at the sight of both Shawn Logan and River Angelus staggering through the backstage area. Both men are doubled over, sweaty and reaching for various portions of their anatomy, obviously exhausted after what was a grueling, super competitive tag team match just a few short moments ago. Although they continue to feel the wear and tear of such a battle they discuss what transpired in that match as well, marching along towards the lockeroom throughout the process.
River: So, explain this to me again. How the hell did Robin Brooks and Jon Rich even get an iota of offense in against us. Your suppose to be an MMA badass, and I’m River Angelus, instant credibility, what happened out there?
While gripping at the back of his head Shawn looks down at the floor, deeply distraught by his so called “lackluster performance” in the ring during that tag team bout. His eyes suddenly feel with delight though as he looks up and then stares into the face of his impatient partner, perhaps coming up with a reasonable excuse, or at least an excuse that sounds reasonable to me.
Shawn: Well see, I would have had her, if I didn’t swallow a Nat. No, no, a fly, no, a bumblebee, that’s what I swallowed, and you know how allergic I am to them.
Angelus: Sense when?
Logan: About five minutes ago.
A flustered Angelus finds himself seconds from slapping his partner on the back of his head yet resists and just shakes his own cranium back and forth.
River: Bend over so I can slap you in the face, now!
Logan looks down at his much shorter tag team partner and then chuckles, realizing Angelus is far too small to reach his noggin and inflict physical punishment on him.
Shawn: Ha, no way short stuff.
A aggravated River turns away from his partner and begins to look around at his surroundings until his eyes find what they’re desperately searching for.
Angelus: Fine, just stand right there then.
Confused, Shawn allows this to play out, apathetically watching as his partner marches off camera only to return a few seconds later with a chair and a rolled up newspaper. He sets the chair up beside Logan, his partner still watching out of befuddlement while Angelus steps on top of the steel, now standing at the same height as his much larger associate. He now swings the newspaper into the back of Shawn’s head, causing Logan to bend forward as he wraps his palms about his skull and groan in pain. River now points the newspaper at him and shakes it judgmentally in his direction.
River: Now let that be a lesson to you. Stop sassing me and keep up your end of the bargain in our matches, or else.
My God, it’s George and Lennie.
This insulting observation causes Angelus and Shawn to turn towards two small individuals moving towards them, the two newcomers to IWC, Kelly Hart and Shannon Blaze. A mixed reaction, mostly out of confusion as to who these gentlemen are, sounds throughout the arena at the sight of the duo come to be known as the Second City Saints. With speculation in their eyes the two men overlook River and Shawn, insincere smiles present on their faces.
Shannon Blaze: Shouldn’t you guys be off somewhere tiling a field and suffocating rabbits or something?
Angelus, who is still standing on the chair and enjoying the fact that he’s much taller than these two men as a result, leans against Logan’s shoulder before the two start to chuckle in an overly cheesy and dramatic manner. Logan holds his guts, pretending that they’re about to burst through his ribs and spill down to the concrete while Angelus wipes a fake tear away from his eye.
Logan: Ohh, that was funny, real funny, about as funny as skits involving Triple H and necrophilia.
Now Shannon and Kelly find themselves chuckling as more banter is sure to follow.
Kelly: Would you look at this Shannon? It’s just pathetic, we’ve got one man who looks like he fell out of a beanstalk and hit every branch on the way down, and another who is trying to appear taller than he actually is.
Logan bends forward some, his face filling with hostility.
Shawn: Hey, say that to my face when your talking to me. River, give him your chair.
The statement causes Kelly to smirk and begin shaking his head while Shannon pats his partner reassuringly on the shoulder.
Shannon: You know what pal, thanks for showing us why we came here to the IWC, to put giant idiots like you in your place.
River: Oh please, and how are you going to do that? By spreading pixy dust all over each other and flying around in leotards? Even though you look like a couple of little boys, your not the lost boys, so I don’t think so.
Logan stands up straight, his face filling with confusion as he stares up at his confident partner, nodding to add emphasis to his lackadaisical statement.
Logan: What the hell was that? That wasn’t very funny.
Angelus: Shhh, it will take them at least an hour to figure that out. I’m guessing they have just as little intelligence as talent.
Hart: Oh really, then what do you call this?
With an upward thrust of his arm, a bundle of flowers magically appears in his palm causing River and Logan to jump back out of momentary astonishment. Kelly nods, very happy with himself before his hand is slapped by Shannon.
Shannon: Stop that!
Sadly Kelly lowers his arm to his side and the flowers vanish into the ether from which they originated, a confused Shawn and Angelus watching on.
Blaze: You’ll have to forgive my little sister, he can be a bit unprofessional at times. Now before this childish exchange of wits goes on any longer than it needs to, and drains years off our lives as a result, we just wanted to introduce ourselves to a couple of possible opponents. A couple of guys who seem to be obsessed with size, guys who took away our opportunities, guys who are handed everything just because they fit a certain weight requirement. Well, moreso in this big lugs case than your own, Jesus, I didn’t think there were people even smaller than us in this company, well at least ones who have a penis.
Shannon overlooks Angelus as he makes this statement, River rolling his eyes and forces out a condescending chuckle.
Kelly: I’m afraid we must be off for now though boys, but I’m sure we’ll meet again in the very near future, as its guys just like this big towering piece of feces that we’re here to prove something against. But for now, we’ve got to be off to talk with your equally as reprehensible General Manager.
Shannon holds his hand up and waves goodbye as he and Kelly start to make their way around both River and Logan, who quickly discuss something amongst themselves. That’s when Shannon stops and steps back, raising his hand into the air slowly.
Shannon: Um, actually, could you guys tell us where the General Manager’s office is?
With a sigh River and Logan point towards a door that isn’t too far away.
Blaze: Oh thanks, and yeah, we’ll probably be beating up on you guys in the future and all that jazz.
Angelus: Yay?
Shannon nods as he and Kelly make their way towards the door that was specified by the men they immediately hit it off with, well actually the opposite of hitting it off. With a confident smirk Kelly twists the doorknob and steps into a shadowy room, his face immediately hitting a dirty mop while Shannon marches in after him, his foot getting caught in a bucket. That’s when the door is slammed shut behind them, trapping both men inside thanks to Logan. River uses the chair he was sitting on to pin the door shut, sticking it out slanted between the doorknob and the floor. Knocks and bangs come from what is obviously the broom closet as a chuckling Angelus and Logan back away slowly, holding their arms over their mid-sections. They turn and walk away, again wiping fake tears out from under their eyes in the process due to the sheer amount of laughter emanating from their lungs. The camera remains positioned on the door for several moments as the knocking from inside finally stops.
Kelly: Um, Shannon.
Shannon: Yeah?
Kelly: I don’t think this is the GM’s office.
Shannon: Ya think?
CODY MITCHELL VS. AURORA ROSE
”Why Do You Love Me” by Garbage hits the PA system, everyone in the building jumping to their feet, going insane as Aurora Rose emerges through the curtains, red and black lights flashing behind her. She spins in a circle and stares through the curtains, appearing as if she was just shoved onto the entry way while gripping at the back of her neck. The muscles in her body are already very tensed up after all she’s probably been forced to endure backstage at the hands of Pat Evans. Nevertheless she moves right towards the ring, timidly lifting her arm over her shoulder then glancing over it again at the curtains. She then finds her attention diverting towards that same beer vender who was present during the last tag match, curling his porn mustache at the sight of Aurora and holding a beer up in her direction. Aurora rolls her eyes and instead of posing for the fans, just rolls under the cables to the inside of the ring, raising to a single knee while overlooking them.
Douglas: Aurora is how here, and for once she isn’t wearing a chain around her neck…
Mayne: Maybe that’s why she looks so distraught.
Dan: Are you implying she’s distraught because she doesn’t have a chain around her throat?
Billy: Exactly, chicks dig that type of stuff, hardcore S&M is in nowadays, take my word for it.
Douglas: I think I’ll refrain from taking the word of a man with as many ex wives as yourself Billy. Anyway, we’re going to witness a hell of a match here between Aurora and newcomer Cody Mitchell. I have no idea if Mitchell can even wrestle, but I’m just obligated to say every bout is a match of the year candidate.
Mayne: We all swallow our pride and do it, Dan.
The crowd is still pumped at the sight of Aurora, no matter how distant and distraught she may be. She just rests on her knees and looks tensely up the ramp towards the curtains as Cody Mitchell and David Miller are about to step through them to the ring. That’s when instead of Mitchell’s music hitting the PA system, not that anyone would be familiar with it considering he was debuting tonight, AWOL’s face appears on the big screen above the entry way. A very mixed reaction, which now seems to be bordering more towards the booing side of the like/hate spectrum, comes from the fans at the sight of the dejected, straight forward General Manager. His brooding, intense eyes seem to be staring straight through the titontron and directly into the face of Aurora in the ring, a bathroom wall positioned behind him, as the men’s-room now serves as his base of operations.
Mayne: Well, well, look who it is Dan, the so called authority figure around here.
Douglas: Unfortunately AWOL hasn’t been the authority figure, or General Manager we thought he would be, with his personal vendetta against the roster thanks to their loss at Born Again, and I hope whatever he has to say doesn’t continue the trend.
Billy: When has he ever had one good thing to say?
Aurora tilts her head in confusion and stares up at the titontron into the rather flabbergasted face of the General Manager.
AWOL: Aurora, Aurora, Aurora, for once I actually find myself feeling sorry for you. After all, you don’t get very many matches these days where you’ve actually got a chance of winning, and I’m not even sure tonight would have been any different. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on who you ask, for you, we won’t get to find out if tonight you were going to get lucky. In the sense of winning a match I mean, I’m sure as hell not referencing anything sexual, because the thought of a man going down on you only to be poked in the eye by one of your mixed sexual organs just disgusts me. Still confused? Ha, as if I even need to ask. Well my dear, here’s your explanation. Cody Mitchell, David Miller, they’ve been fired, they’re gone from the IWC for good.
Boos come from the crowd at the sound of this while others actually find themselves cheering rather loudly. All the while Aurora remains on her knees in the ring as if she doesn’t give a shit, just shrugs her shoulders.
Douglas: David Miller and Cody Mitchell fired?
Mayne: Um, duh’, I reported on this like a week ago.
Dan: Yeah, but most of your rumors are just based on things you like to believe our reality. Like the erect priest in the Little Mermaid.
Billy: Those were not wobbly knees, he had a boner dammit!
AWOL tilts his head while still staring through the camera almost right into Aurora’ eyes as she remains kneeling in the middle of the ring. The GM starts to talk again before the sound of running water enters his ears, causing him to roll his eyes as the camera zooms out to reveal Sean Johnson standing beside him, washing his hands. Sean lifts his hands, which drip with water and turns then towards AWOL who gives him a callous, cold glare. Johnson shakes his hands now, as if asking for something before the GM reaches down, grabbing a white towel off the counter. He pitches it directly into Sean’s face, who staggers in reverse, momentarily upset before realizing how fluffy the rag feels against his bare skin.
AWOL: As I was saying, Cody’s been fired, David’s been fired, hell, I may fire everyone and fill that ring with monkey’s throwing shit at each other, at least that be better than the writing for this show. But I digress because the point is Aurora, you win by default. I thought about putting some young up and comer in there against you, but I figured it be a waste of my time, and I’d rather not have to sit through one of your matches tonight. So there Aurora, you win, celebrate by getting spanked or burned with cigarette butts that were never lit in the first place, whatever people like you do. But celebrate only so long, because I promise at the upcoming pay-per-view, I’ll be putting you against a true challenge, just because I don’t like you. You’ve never done anything really bad to me, but for some reason I just can’t tolerate you at all. So have fun now, while I’m gracious enough to allow it to last, then accompany your friend Pat, as I’m sure the two of you are inseparable, to my office for the meeting he’s been waiting on. That’s it, let’s get this over with already.
Aurora shakes her head with an actual hint of a grin on her face, this abuse amuses her slightly while beginning to rise to her feet. As soon as she starts to move towards the ropes, out of nowhere MAX rolls into the ring, having rushed from the backstage area. The beer vender with the cheesy porn mustache and with the wavy Michael Bolton hair style cheers on the sight of MAX who stands up in front of Aurora immediately. Rose shoots him an awkward glare, not sure what to think here as Axl Evermore’s tag team partner, the still sweating MAX tries to talk to her. He approaches her calmly and tries to rationalize with the young lady, who seems very conflicted.
Douglas: MAX is out here for some reason, attempting to talk with Aurora. We saw last week how he tried to reason with her and Evans, and it didn’t pan out with her getting her freedom. Is he trying to convince Rose to come with him for her own protection?
Mayne: He’s coming onto her that sleaze.
Dan: Why is your mind filthier than your unwashed underpants?
Aurora lowers her head, nodding it all the while as MAX keeps trying to explain something to her in a casual manner but with a hint of tension in the air. Just then Pat Evans emerges through the curtains, strolling onto the stage and lifting a finger, motioning with it for Aurora to come to him, and for her to do so now. Rose looks very bewildered, staring at Pat then back at MAX who has extended his palm outward, asking her not to listen to him and to come with him instead. She doesn’t seem to know what to do while Pat keeps motioning for her with just one finger. Finally she steps towards MAX only to turn suddenly, sliding through the ropes and dropping to the mats before marching up the ramp right towards Evans. MAX shakes his head as he watches her leave with him, leaning against the cables as Pat smirks in his direction and thrusts his arm out over Aurora’s slouched shoulders.
Douglas: I can’t believe this, Pat Evans has got some type of psychological grip on Aurora’s mind. She won’t even listen to reason as MAX is trying to do nothing more but save her. Now I realize why she hasn’t been wearing that chain around the neck any longer.
Mayne: I find it almost appalling to believe that MAX is the noble one in all of this.
Pat glances over his shoulder back at MAX, shooting him a conniving glare while leading the emotionally disturbed Aurora to the backstage area with no problem whatsoever.
COMMERCIAL BREAK
CLASSIC EVENTS AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE AT IWC.COM
OVERBLOWN STIPULATIONS
Commotion, mostly the verbal type, is heard in General Manager AWOL’s office, otherwise known as the men’s room. There several IWC talents are gathered, planted in the few chairs that were provided for this little meeting of sorts. The stalls at the GM’s side are also occupied by several individuals, amongst them Calvan Greene who has one leg crossed over the other as he flips through a magazine, ironically one with himself on the cover. As if he’d take the time to read anything else. At the forefront of the bathroom, wedged between two porcelain urinals is the General Manager himself, his completely apathetic and disenfranchised face overlooks those located before him, all the while slouching forward against a cheap podium. He yawns as he overlooks all this prime talent convened before his watchful eyes, rather it be Pat Evans seated in a chair appearing just as apathetic as the General Manager, or Sean Johnson positioned a few inches away from him. Strangely Axl Evermore isn’t present, conspicuous by his absence. Helix AKA Jason Wheeler stares forward with confidence into the face of the GM while leaning snuggly against the wall of a stall, yet slightly anxious to get this all over with. Rounding out the group is Aurora Rose, who is sweaty as well, but for some reason has to hold her hand over her eyes and turn her face towards the corner.
Aurora: Why do I have to stand in the corner? This is ridiculous.
The GM rolls his eyes, not even feeling that its worth the breath it would take to provide an explanation to her, yet doing so anyway so that her voice can stop offending his ears.
AWOL: Legally woman aren’t allowed to be in here, but since Pat Evans insisted that you come with him, and you’re the closest thing to a woman amongst us, to keep myself from being sued you got to keep your eyes in the corner. Plus your obscenely large breasts and goth piercings just disgust me more than your wrestling abilities, so keep your eyes in that corner missy.
Angered by the way she’s being verbally harassed she turns towards AWOL only to have Pat reach up, his large palm wrapping around the back of her head. He twists her cranium so that her eyes are forced to stare back into the corner.
AWOL: Why thank you Pat for being helpful for a change instead of being completely and utterly useless like usual. So let’s get this crap over with…
Calvan: Way ahead of you.
The competitors gathered around his stall begin to sniff the air, realizing that Greene is indeed defecating in the toilet he’s seated on. Helix looks around the door and peers inside before covering his nose with his fingers.
Helix: Jesus Christ, Calvan, we’re in the middle of a meeting here.
Greene: Oh you know it smells like rosebuds, and what meeting, I just came here to drop a duce. I thought you guys were all here to smell it and take pictures of it and junk.
AWOL sighs but continues, praying there are no more interruptions that will prolong this meeting any longer.
AWOL: Well thank you Calvan, because what your leaving in that toilet right now is exactly what I think of your promos. But that’s besides the point, without further delay let’s get through this so I can get the hell out of here tonight and no longer have to associate with you pathetic wastes of my time.
Pat: Eww, nice try at being harsh.
AWOL: Rather you were sincere or not, coming from you, I’d still take it as an insult, if only the dialogue in your promos was as offensive. Now as I was saying, you’ve all come here, with the exception of the shitting Calvan Greene, to hear about the stipulation for the Submission Series at Breathless. So to keep this moment from being prolonged any further than it already has and thus take away three more minutes of my life I could have better used playing scrabble, let’s get to it. As many of you know, actually you probably don’t, this match may very well, possibly, could determine a new Submission Champion or the new number one contender for that resurrected title. I don’t know, I really don’t care, I’m just trying to throw as many of you into a pointless clusterfuck as I can to save me the hassle of having to book you in separate matches. Anyhow, that match, again at Breathless, Jesus, how many times do I have to reiterate the name of the pay-per-view, will be contested under 6 pack challenge rules. So I guess there will be 6 of you in it, or however many people sign up for the match, again I don’t care, and there will be a thirty minute time limit. The objective is to score as many submissions or knock outs in that span of time as you possibly can, and if you can’t figure out the way to win by now hang yourself with the elastic band in your underpants. That’s all, that’s it, that’s the Submission Series in a nutshell, now get out.
The GM leans elbows first against the podium, his eyes scanning with absolute seriousness between everyone gathered. Helix is the only one to lift a finger in a questioning manner.
Helix: So whoever gets the most submissions or knock outs by the end of thirty minutes becomes the new Submission Champion?
AWOL shrugs his shoulders and tilts his head.
AWOL: I don’t know, I guess, if it makes you sleep better at night, then yeah, sure, whatever. Just leave now.
The back of his hand gestures towards the door while Sean Johnson slowly begins to lift his hand to ask a question. AWOL slaps his palm over his face and unleashes a groan while falling elbows first against the surface of the podium, he parts his fingers enough to see through them at the returning star.
AWOL: Why are you still here?
Sean: Um, what would you say if I were to call you the worse, most unproductive boss I’ve ever had?
AWOL doesn’t react in anger, in fact he barely reacts emotionally at all, again just shrugging his wide shoulders.
AWOL: Um, I don’t know, thanks? But maybe you should be thinking about how Helix and yourself have kind of become afterthoughts in this match already, since Axl Evermore and Pat Evans are stealing all the heat and momentum. And another thing, what are you doing here? When did I resign you, and tell me your working for food stamps.
Johnson appears as if he has more to say, but finds himself almost dumbfounded by the response he was just given. Therefore he just scratches at the back of his head and stands, marching out of the bathroom. Helix watches him leave with a condescending grin on his face before exiting the men’s room himself. He throws his arm over a tense Johnson’s shoulder, beginning to talk in secret with him about something, Sean surprisingly all ears. Pat Evans takes Aurora by the shoulder and leads her away from the bathroom with her hand still over her eyes. As they pass the GM, Pat’s eyes meet with his, the two exchange an awkward yet intense glare with one another.
Pat: Tell your pal Chapel I said hi.
Finally, once all four individuals have vacated his office, the General Manager allows himself to become a little more comfortable, slightly more relaxed. That’s when Calvan Greene pops his head out of the stall, looking around at all the vacant seats then at the GM.
Calvan: Does anyone want to come see this before I flush it? Its totally amazing, it looks just like Paris Hilton’s face.
Again the GM unleashes a long groan before falling forehead first into the top of the podium, his faith in humanity being entirely crushed at this point.
A BLOODY PATH TO REDEMPTION
A bag of ice is being held to the bloodied, lacerated forehead of Too Magnificent while he leans against a wall backstage, groaning from the anguish that flows through his body. No stitching or bandaging has been applied to his cranium while he just continues to lean back first against the white bricks, seething in rage the more he thinks about what his own teammates did to him at the start of the show, men he thought he could trust. When he recalls that chair being kicked into his skull he becomes so enraged he approaches a trash can at his side, kicking it with tremendous force and sending it flying through the air. He is absolutely trembling as the blood continues to leak down his face and now spills onto his chest, throwing down the bag of ice, intent on allowing his wound to drain as it will.
Now, now, what did that trashcan ever do to you Too Mag?
His rage driven, paranoid eyes shoot in the direction of Nathan Creed and Orlando Cruze strolling towards him with no hesitation. Although they’re aware they’re nowhere near on the same page, or remotely close to being friends, they seem to be unafraid of what he might do in his weakened state as they step ever so much closer. As Too Magnificent’s eyes meet with theirs he finds himself almost humbled, his head lowering, unable to keep staring into their faces for long, especially Orlando’s.
Orlando: Well, I hate to be a broken record and say I told you so, but well, I told you so.
Blood flies through the air as Too Magnificent whips his head back, looking up into the face of the Icon finally. Instead of anger being present in his eyes, shame abounds within his dilated pupils.
Too Magnificent: I’d like nothing more than to ram my fist down your fucking throat Orlando, but I can’t, because I know your right, in fact, I knew you were right all along, I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. I didn’t want to face the fact that those bastards were using me just long enough to get what they wanted, and now they’ve thrown me away. They’ve thrown me away!
The side of his fist hits the wall with force, leaving a trail of blood smeared across the bricks. Orlando holds his palm out towards Too Magnificent, insisting he try to calm himself down.
Too Magnificent: Those pieces of shit, if only I would have done to them what they did to me long ago, I wouldn’t find myself in this condition. I don’t even know if I have a job anymore, I don’t know if I have any friends left in this business, I don’t know what I’m going to do…
Suddenly Orlando steps forward and takes Too Magnificent under the chin, pulling his face down in order to stare into his brazen, passionate eyes.
Cruze: Stop that, stop it now. I’m sick of hearing you bitch, Too Magnificent. That’s exactly what got you into this situation in the first place.
Too Magnificent pulls his head away from Cruze in an almost spiteful manner, before he’s almost forced to swallow the pointed finger of the former three time World Champion, aimed directly into his features.
Orlando: You may no longer be forced to kiss the asses of the Alpha Generation and be used as their sacrificial lamb, but you still have people who respect you in this company.
Suddenly the raging psychopath becomes quiet, his head tilting as he stares into the oh so serious face of the man he’s had numerous wars with. He then turns towards Nathan, another individual he’s had some true battles with in the past, Creed nodding his head in agreement with his partner.
Orlando: We may not be friends, hell, we’re not even mutual acquaintances, but deep down inside Nathan and I have always respected you. With the exception of your association with the Alpha Generation we’ve always supported you too. Hell, how can I not have admiration for a man who has brutalized me, and took so much brutality from me, yet kept getting up and kept coming back for more. We’ve ripped each other apart for years Too Magnificent, we’ve went through a lot together these past close to five years, so I’m kind of obligated to have respect for you. Something I don’t have for those sons of bitches who pitched you to the side out there tonight, so Nathan and I had to intervene, we had to stop such an injustice from continuing.
Too Magnificent takes a deep breath while swiping his palms across his claret smeared features, dragging the blood further down his cheeks. He prepares himself to say something he never thought he would in all his lifetime.
Too Magnificent: Thank you.
Orlando and Nathan turn towards one another out of shock, thinking that Too Magnificent was incapable of producing such a combination of syllables. Orlando tugs down on his ear and tilts his head towards the deranged psychopath before him.
Cruze: I’m sorry, care to repeat that?
Too Magnificent: You heard me motherfuckers. Thank you, thank you both for pulling my ass out of the fire. Of course, it’s only going to be a matter of time before I throw myself back into the flames, because nothing, job or no job, is going to stop me from what I’ll do to Desolation and Hurse.
Creed: Am I the only one who really enjoys hearing that?
Cruze shakes his head in the direction of his bandaged up tag team partner. After completing his statement Nathan turns back towards Too Magnificent who is pacing and breathing heavily, blood still flowing down his features all the while.
Nathan: So what are you going to do now?
Too Magnificent hadn’t given much thought to it till now, having been consumed mostly with his anger and thoughts of revenge. He stops in his tracks and looks up slowly before scratching at the back of his head and shrugging his shoulders.
Too Magnificent: Right now, I’m going out to take my frustrations out on this Iceman piece of shit, after that, I’m not really sure. But rest assure boys, when the time comes to repay my favor to you both I’ll be there, with a busted up trashcan in my hands and blood on my fingers.
After devoting himself to both Cruze and Creed, the furious giant pushes his way through them and makes his way down the corridor. His emotions seem too twisted to stick around and hang out with two men who he’s been fighting for years now suddenly become his only allies. Nathan and Orlando turn to watch him walk away while shaking their heads and smirking.
Nathan: That guy seriously needs to see a shrink.
Orlando: Why? Then he wouldn’t be so much fun to hang out with.
COMMERCIAL BREAK
DO YOURSELF A FAVOR, GO TO A GOOD WRESTLING SCHOOL
PAT EVANS VS. DESOLATION
The arena lights dim and the opening chords of the Rolling Stones' "Paint it Black" echo throughout the arena. Lights begins to flash as the electronic noise of the opening to Tarot's "I Rule." As the distorted strings kick in, the arena lights begin to flash, Desolation's logo appearing on the Jumbotron.
The heavy metals guitars kick in and a spotlight picks Desolation out in the audiance, one fist raised in the air.
"I was crowned a king in a womb,
tore my mother apart at birth,
gnawed at my father's bones,
then gave them to the earth!"
Desolation begins to slowly walk down the stairs to the ring, stripping of his black leather duster and stepping onto the ring barricade. He raises his arms straight out from his body, turning his head to the right, and then slowly to the left, looking over the crowd.
"Bowels of a grave turned loose,
I RULE!"
spat out the one the reaper couldn't use.
Desolation begins to smirk almost sinisterly in the direction of the fans, before twisting his head towards the entry way, keeping a watchful eye out for Jon Rich.
Mayne: It is time for the match I’d be looking forward to the most, if it weren’t for the fact that Jon Rich is running around here acting like a lunatic, wanting to get his hands on Desolation. I’m sure the Dark Man will put him exactly where he belongs, but I hate to think of him ruining a technical masterpiece.
Douglas: I have the same apprehension, only I’m more so worried about the condition of Jon Rich, both physically and mentally. He really wants nothing more than to get his hands on Desolation, who seems to desire that type of hatred, that type of wanting bloodlust. But this is not Breathless, this is not his no holds barred title match with Jon Rich, instead he’s about to take on a technically proficient danger in Pat Evans.
“Outsider” plays throughout the arena. The lights dim and fade to black. After a few moments of the opening piano chord being played, a spotlight shines down on Pat Evans as he walks out from the back. The crowd cheers/boos/whatever you want them to do as he makes his way down, but Evans merely ignores their fanfare and walks up to the ring. He looks up at it before walking to the steel steps. He then walks along the apron and enters the ring. He takes off his black trenchcoat, placing it on the top rope in the far corner before pacing the ring as his music fades out.
Mayne: Here’s a genius of the highest order Dan. He’s even more smart than John Trovolta in the movie Phenomenon. Yep, I’m going to shay it now, Pat Evans should have his brain removed from his head and examined by top doctors, he’s that freakishly intelligent.
Douglas: Stop lamenting over the fact that Pat set Axl up earlier tonight, I will admit it was a good ploy, although it’s been seen a million times before.
Billy: Basic, but effective Dan, basic but effective.
Pat Evans and Desolation stand mono a mono, glaring across the ring at one another as they bend forward, beginning to move in a circular motion, prepared to put their superb technical capabilities on display for the viewing audience. The tension and electricity in the air is momentarily derailed by an annoying beer vendor pitching his wears. Neither man in the ring allows themselves to be distracted by the disturbance behind the barricade, 100% focused on the impending competition in the ring.
Douglas: Listen to this crowd, even though they hate both these men they realize they’re going to be in for a technical masterpiece.
Billy: Yeah, yeah, yeah, it’s nice to see a match on this card that I may actually enjoy for a change, but what I don’t like is the reason that this bout was put together in the first place. We all know this is AWOL’s sinister plot to drive a wedge between Evans and the Alpha Generation.
Dan: Why would a wedge be needed to drive both these men apart? I didn’t think there was any type of conspiracy, or alliance between them?
Mayne: Um, there isn’t, not that I know of, but one day there might be, so AWOL should keep his waxed head out of other people’s business. Hasn’t he learned yet that he and his pathetic roster aren’t good enough to overcome the nation of the Alpha Generation?
They’re all watching on intently, waiting for these two to really bust out some of their stellar maneuvers in an attempt to out wrestle one another. The crowd realizes that they’re in for a very strategic match, almost settling in for what should be the physical version of a chess match, all Desolation and Pat would require are crowns and some colorful knickers. They start towards one another, ready as they’ll ever be with their game faces on, when the vendor in the crowd with the outrageously oversized nose and the porn mustache jumps over the barricade. He throws down the items hanging from around his neck and charges towards the ring. Moving as quickly as possible he slips in under the cables and stands up, removing his 70’s style mustache and pulling off a long, Michael Bolton like hair wig, revealing himself as Axl Evermore.
Douglas: Wait a minute, that annoying beer vendor is Axl Evermore!
Mayne: I thought it was Ron Jeremy. Oh well, saves me the trouble of asking him for his autograph and to take photos with parts of his lower anatomy.
Pat doesn’t even spot Axl who stands up behind him, ripping away his vendor shirt then charging at Evan’s back. He grabs the shoulder of Evans and spins him around before lobbing a closed fist right into his jaw. The crowd is going nuts as Evermore gains a small measure of revenge against Pat who decked himself out in the police riot gear earlier and cost him the tag team tournament match. Evermore slugs Pat to the jaw again and again, knocking him backwards with the fans taking great pleasure in watching Evans be punished for his sins.
Douglas: Axl Evermore turning the other cheek, just like Pat earlier in tonight’s telecast, he’s adorned himself in disguise to get the drop on one of his opponents in the Submission Series.
Mayne: Why can’t this guy just let bygones be bygones.
Each shot to the face causes Evans to stagger in reverse, caught completely off guard by a man he’ll be facing in the Submission Series at Breathless. Just as he gets his footing, he’s drilled under the jaw with a hard sweeping kick right to the face. He’s taken down to his back as Evermore spins in circles, looking all fired up only to find himself now glaring right into the face of Desolation. Almost immediately, Axl’s demeanor changes, becoming even more serious than before as he stares into the eyes of the Dark Man, their long association with each other, which spans the globe as well as several different federations comes rushing back into the forefront of Evermore’s mind. He seethes at the sight of the Dark Man who just grins back in the direction of his age old rival and business partner before bending forward and slipping through the cables onto the apron.
Douglas: Evermore giving Desolation an intense gaze, you can just feel the animosity radiating from both of these men. But it seems as if Desolation doesn’t want to fight Evermore.
Mayne: I can assure you it’s not out of fear, but boredom. Evermore just handed Desolation the night off by getting this match thrown out via an attack on Evans, so why should he not sit back and enjoy himself?
Dan: I can tell you right now, sooner or later this is going to come to a heading, but right now Evermore is more focused on gaining a measure of revenge against Evans, who is still completely caught off guard, much like Axl earlier in the night.
Billy: Think about it, if you were Axl, besides asking yourself what caused your penis to become so shriveled, would you actually want to face off with Desolation? Of course not, no rationale person would.
Douglas: What about Jon Rich?
Mayne: What part of rationale don’t you get?
Almost condescendingly Desolation lowers his head and extends his arms out to his sides, as if bowing gracefully to Axl and allowing him to continue with what he’s doing. That’s before he shoots a glare towards Pat and grins, dropping off the apron with Evermore watching him very closely. Suddenly Pat steps up behind Axl and applies the Time to Go to Sleep (Million Dollar Dream) thanks to the distraction by Desolation. The Dark Man walks off grinning from ear to ear, taking great enjoyment in watching Pat inflict pain on Evermore with this submission. Axl’s free arm flails at his side, trying to get himself out of this submission to the best of his abilities, but finding his strength beginning to fade from his still exhausted frame. That’s when Axl reaches down with his free arm, taking hold of the front of Pat’s lower attire and pulling up on it, causing Evans to be tripped over backwards. Axl turns and steps through Pat’s legs as he tries to get him locked in the sharpshooter only for Evans to sit up and wrap his arms around the ankle of his rival as he tried to put it through. Pat rolls over sideways and forces Axl down to the canvas, causing him to land on his chest and stomach while he stands up behind him, establishing the ankle lock to nothing but boos from the crowd.
Mayne: An incredible series of counters but Pat’s got the ankle lock on Evermore, he’s got it locked in, he’s got it locked in and now he’s going to break that ankle into pieces.
Douglas: Axl has got to do everything in his power to get out of this one, that’s for damned sure, or he might not have any legs to stand on at Breathless.
While growling in pain Axl tries to find a quick way to escape this hold but can’t before he twists around onto his back, lifting his free foot and placing it to Pat’s chest. He shoves him backwards right into the turnbuckle, causing him to hit them spine first as his arms fall over the cables, keeping him upright for the time being. Evermore stands up and hobbles a little on his ankle, about to come charging in at the momentarily prone Evans when Sean Johnson slides into the ring. He comes out of nowhere and immediately charges at Evermore, throwing fists into his face repeatedly, knocking him in reverse to shock from the sold out crowd.
Douglas: Now Sean Johnson is here, the Griffin is attacking Axl Evermore, the third man in the Submission Series!
Mayne: Things are really starting to break down now, wait a minute, there’s Helix.
Pat steps away from the corner and grabs Sean by the shoulder spinning him around and decking him to the face repeatedly, not spotting Helix climbing up onto the apron behind him, the fourth entry in the Submission Series. He springs up onto the top rope and flies off right as Pat turns in time for Helix to drop on his shoulders and snap over in reverse, flipping Pat over into a huge hurricarana. Evans crashes back first into the canvas before he convulses then rolls under the ropes to the outside of the ring. Sean is decked to the jaw several times by Axl who is fighting back at this point against the unprovoked assault by Johnson, who was possibly tired of being overlooked when it comes to this Submission Series. Sean is almost knocked to the canvas with one more well timed strike to his jaw before he spins away and turns towards Helix who comes rushing in quickly. Suddenly Johnson bends forward, placing his hands to Helix’s inner thighs, throwing him over his head right at Evermore, who looks up in time to be met with a dropkick right to the chest. The crowd is shocked by the acrobatic move by Helix who rolls across the canvas then nips up onto the canvas, spinning in circles while Axl rolls under the cables to the outside. He drops to the mats on his feet and backs towards the announce table, glaring into the ring at Helix who looks mighty proud of himself. Sean Johnson is bent forward, glaring at Evans who is backing up the ramp in shock and grinning in the direction of the dangerous submission expert.
Douglas: Helix and Sean Johnson sending a clear cut message to Axl Evermore and Pat Evans, they will not be ignored in this Submission Series match at Breathless.
Mayne: Both of these guys may have just signed their own death wishes, mark my words.
Johnson and Helix have their backs turned towards one another while glaring at their opponents, two men who have become intense rivals, lurking just beyond the ropes on the outside of the ring. That’s when they back into each other, causing them to stand up straight then spin around, finding themselves glaring into one another’s faces. The crowd is cheering as Johnson and Helix have an intense stare-down with one another, those same security guards dressed in full riot gear making their way towards the ring throughout the process. Evans backs right past them, scowling towards the ring and in the direction of Evermore who has stepped around it to the end of the ramp. He is demanding that Pat come back down and fight him like a man only for Evans to almost grin crudely.
THE HUNT CONTINUES
Breathing hard, Robin Brooks staggers through the backstage area, full of sweat in her exasperated state. In terror her eyes keep glancing over her shoulder down the corridor, but thankfully there is no sight of Psycho, which for some reason seems to worry her even more. Nevertheless she continues towards the double doors that serve as the exit to the building, leading right into the enclosed parking structure where her car is readily positioned. She keeps her eyes over her shoulder while moving down the long white corridor, making sure Psycho doesn’t pop up out of nowhere and feeling slight relief as her hands slip around the cold steel bar that runs across the double doors. She pushes on it and the door opens, Brooks feeling the chill from the parking enclosure, such coldness had never before been so comforting. She steps forward quickly, eyes still aimed over her shoulder watching her back, when she finds her way block, her body meeting with a large chest. She is knocked back a bit due to the impact, causing her to almost lose her footing before she turns and looks up into the smirking face of the Cartel Champion himself, Chapel. The demonic glint in his eyes causes Brooks to jump back and cover her chest, this entire setting suddenly becoming eerily familiar to her.
Chapel: Hey there my dear, leaving so quickly? The party has just begun.
The diabolical smile on his face almost causes Robin to shriek in terror, backing away quickly only for the spine of the X-Class Champion to bump hard into the chest of Psycho. She spins around as her eyes immediately divert towards the sickle hanging from his grasp then back into the sickeningly twisted eyes of the vengeful psychopath. A savage demeanor of a very threatening manner has overtaken him and caused her to step in reverse, backing right into Chapel’s arms, his large hands taking hold of her biceps. She finds herself trapped and powerless, stuck in the same position Hurse was in last week, between two deviant madmen with a thirst for carnage. That’s exactly what Psycho is about to release as he lifts the sickle, throwing it over his shoulder, stepping forward slowly towards the trapped Black Widow. Her squirming proves futile.
Chapel: Eww, someone is awfully feisty tonight, she’s fighting back more than Hurse did last week.
Robin: Take your God damn hands off of me!
A chuckle, one so raspy its frightening, emanates from Psycho who steps forward very slowly, his twisted desires clear in his eyes.
Psycho: And she’s got such a mouth on her, now I know why good old Stevie Boy was calling out for her last week, hahaha.
Brooks tries to get her arms free to claw at Psycho’s face, her fear buried by her rising anger.
Brooks: You bastards, let go of me, I’ll fucking kill you!
For some reason Chapel feigns dismay and shock.
Chapel: Now, now Robin, you don’t want to hurt our feelings do you? We just wanted to catch up with you in order to talk is all.
Psycho: Yeah, are you too good to have a nice little friendly chat with us?
The grin on his face becomes even more threatening as he extends the sickle out towards Robin’s face, sliding the sharpened edge softly down the side of her cheek.
Chapel: That’s all we wanted to do when we hopped in Hurse’s limo last week, but he offended us with all his girly screaming and attempts to escape, I hope you won’t make the same mistake my dear, I’d hate for something unsightly to happen to you.
Robin tries to force her way free again but finds it to be in vain while Psycho chuckles to himself, his laughter still menacing.
Psycho: I haven’t been chasing you all night because I wanted to hurt you, like Chapel said, we just want to talk. I mean, what we did to the love of your life was bad enough for now, although it will pale in comparison to what happens to your pretty little body at Breathless, once I get through with you.
The sickle moves across her cheek slowly while she stares with rage into the burnt, twisted flesh of the sadistic one, the savage she’s forced to face at the upcoming pay-per-view.
Chapel: Instead of leaving you in the same condition as him, we just wanted to give you one last chance to redeem yourself. That’s right, sometimes there’s even honor amongst monsters. Although he didn’t ask the only thing that’s keeping your head from again ending up a bloody puddle on the wall is because our newfound association with Killjoy. For reasons beyond us he still seems to have feelings for you.
Psycho: It turns my stomach just thinking about it.
Chapel: Indeed. The fact remains that although it would be the cream on the top of a very bloody cake to not only be given a title I’ve deserved for years tonight but also to leave you just as twisted as your precious little boyfriend, we’re going to refrain from brutalizing you for the time being.
Psycho: Oh yes, there will be plenty of time for that at Breathless. Besides, maybe these next couple of weeks will help you come to your senses, tasting your own blood is particularly helpful with that.
The sickle blade slides under Robin’s chin, lifting up on it and causing her furious features to glare into the smiling face of the sadistic savage.
Chapel: So what do you say Robin, friends?
For once tonight Robin is completely confident in what she’s about to say, uttering it through her gritting teeth.
Brooks: Get fucked. I’m not afraid of you Psycho.
Again he finds himself laughing, as does the King of Monsters, both men momentarily amused by her reaction. That’s when Psycho lowers the sickle from under her chin and leans in close, speaking right into her ear with a gentle whisper.
Psycho: Oh my dear, but you will be.
Suddenly he slaps her right across the face and Chapel lets go of her arms, allowing the Black Widow to stagger into a wall. That strike to the face has disorientated her immensely as she leans against the white bricks for support, trying to get her brain straight after taking such trauma. Chapel licks his lips at the sight of her pain as he steps past her, stopping beside Psycho as both men watch her with a twisted pleasure.
Psycho: See you at Breathless pal.
Again Psycho grins as he turns and marches away, leaving a furious Robin and a jovial Chapel behind.
Chapel: Oh, and just because we let you off easy tonight, we won’t be so lenient when it comes to your bitch.
The thought of further tormenting the World Champion creates an even wider grin on the face of the War Angel before he turns and walks off in pursuit of Psycho. The camera zooms in slowly on Robin who is holding her jaw, a large red streak left on her cheek as she breaths in anger. Clear determination is present behind her twisted eyes.
COMMERCIAL BREAK
CLASSIC EVENTS AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE AT IWC.COM
PREPARING FOR THE NEXT STRIKE
A loud ovation comes from the fans at the sight of Jon Rich marching back and forth, a very determined, intense expression residing on his grizzled features. He breathes hard with every step he takes back and forth, rubbing at the crowbar he used to brutalize Jackson Adams with earlier in the night, contemplating exactly what he is going to do to Desolation. He may have been provided with a golden opportunity just a few moments ago, but for some reason he didn’t take it, perhaps believing Desolation would be prepared for an attack during his match. Therefore Jon just continues to stroll back and forth, plotting the exact perfect time to strike, to uncoil his wrath like a serpent injecting its venomous fangs into an unsuspecting pray. While ravaged by his thoughts he finds himself almost floored as he looks up to find a wavering Bitchcakes McPhee standing in front of him. A Singapore cane is draped over the drunken star’s shoulder as he stares straight into the face of Rich, who wasn’t expecting to see him at all. He takes a step in reverse and slowly overlooks McPhee, not really sure what to think of this very incoherent individual. Just as Jon is about to say something, McPhee lowers the cane, placing it right on his shoulder.
Bitchcakes: You, I’m onto you mister.
He says this in between burps and hiccups, almost loosing his balance a few times while Rich rolls his eyes, obviously in no mood for some forced humor.
Jon: Onto me about what? I’ve got other things on my mind right now pal.
Bitchcakes taps him on the shoulder several times with his cane then slowly holds a picture up in his other palm. On the photo is a picture of Max Power giving the camera a thumbs up. The cut-out from an IWC magazine is held up right beside Jon’s face as Bitchcakes’ eyes dart back and forth between them. He then grins in a conniving manner and nods eagerly.
McPhee: I knew it Power, you couldn’t hide your secret identity from me forever. I knew I’d find you sooner or later and unmask you to the whole world after what you did to my beer you bastard. Now all three of you stand still so I can clobber you over the skull with my Singapore cane.
Thinking he’s finally found the culprit behind the theft of his alcohol, McPhee slowly lifts the cane above his head, rearing it in reverse as Jon rolls his eyes.
Rich: Okay, just so I can get you out of my hair and I can get back to thinking about what’s important here, I’m just going to tell you this once, I’m not Max Power. I’m not imbued with super-hero capabilities. I don’t wear a fruity mask and tights, and I don’t look a thing like the guy in this picture. Sorry McPhee, but I’m not Max.
McPhee lowers the cane to his side and then shakes his head, a smirk coming to his face as he extends his finger out in the direction of the man he’s accusing of being a superhero.
Bitchcakes: Nice try Max, attempting to use your Vulcan mind meld to fool me. I’m onto you.
In disbelief and utter bewilderment, Rich steps back, slapping his palm over his face with clear annoyance.
Jon: Okay, first I didn’t even touch your head to perform the mind meld, second I don’t have pointed elf ears, third, I’m not Max Power, I’ll say it again, I’m not Max Power! I’m not a friggin superhero, so go ask someone else and stop pestering me.
Starting to become slightly unraveled, McPhee balls up the photo in his palm then lifts the cane above his head once more.
McPhee: Quit you’re lying Max, I know who you are, there’s no fooling Bitchcakes. Now stop hiding from your punishment and take it like a man, as I’m sure you’ve done in countless prison showers.
McPhee takes a step back and rushes forward with a great burst of speed, unleashing a primal yell and beginning to swing the cane down at the head of the man he believes to have stolen his beer. Jon sticks his foot out though as McPhee trips over it and tumbles face first onto the concrete, his cane flying high up into the air. With a sigh Rich reaches out, catching it with his free hand while McPhee lies on the concrete beside him, slobbering and snoring. Shaking his head Jon turns away from the down McPhee but now finds himself staring at the crowbar in one hand, and the Singapore cane in the other. He keeps glancing between both objects before finally just shrugging his shoulders and dropping the crowbar, finding the cane much more sensible.
Rich: Desolation, your time of living in peace is about to come to an end.
He thrusts the cane over his shoulder and marches down the corridor, leaving McPhee still lying there, catching some much needed sleep.
TOO MAGNIFICENT VS. THE ICEMAN
The camera comes back to the ring where IWC newcomer the Iceman is standing, rotating his wrists out to his sides and hunched forward, a very determined glint captured in his straightforward eyes. He seems anxious and prepared as he ever will be for his first match in the IWC, where first impressions are definitely key.
Mayne: An unaired ring entrance, well that certainly speaks well for this kid’s possibilities.
Douglas: Yeah, nice use of the sarcasm Billy.
Billy: I’ve been practicing.
Dan: Interesting. Moving onto something more important, which can pretty much be said about anything on this planet when compared to Billy Mayne, the Iceman Kyle Stevenson is making his IWC debut here tonight. Of course he’s stepping in the ring with a very furious monster.
Mayne: Anybody be pissed off if they were kicked out of the Alpha Generation, and thus lost all the benefits associated with it. I heard they had full dental insurance.
Kyle continues to stare straight towards the entry way, prepared for what could prove to be a huge opportunity to shine. Just as he begins to embrace the idea, “Animal I Have Become” hits the PA system and a furious Too Magnificent rips through the entry way. He moves straight towards the ring with blood dribbling down his face from the open cut in his forehead, which has yet to properly clot. His injures not withstanding, he keeps moving towards his somewhat frozen opponent.
Douglas: Too Mag looking less calm and collected than usual, which isn’t saying much since he’s crazed every day all day long.
Mayne: He should be pissed, constantly letting the Alpha Generation down like he has been. No, no, he shouldn’t be upset at all, he should actually be morally crippled for being such a loser, and he should know that’s why he was kicked out of the most prestigious club in IWC history. Much more prestigious than any association with Orlando Cruze and Nathan Creed. That’s like sitting at the un-cool table in the cafeteria, right beside the chubby kid with asthma, and the pale freak with the mascara around his eyes wearing a Linkin Park t-shirt.
Dan: Breath Billy, breath.
The crowd doesn’t quite know what to make of the furious force storming towards the ring and his opponent. Some boo, others offer up a loyal cheer, while others sit on their hands and watch on out of sheer confusion. That’s when the Iceman tries to seize the opportunity, rushing towards the ropes then diving through them straight at Too Magnificent who lobs his boot up into the air. It connects right with the side of Kyle’s head as he was soaring through the cables, causing him to twist and crash into the outside mats. The fans groan loudly as the Ice-Man lies motionless on the mats, taken out within the first five seconds of this match, actually before the match even had the chance to get it started.
Mayne: Well that was quick, I do believe Kyle Stevensnoresen or whatever his dorky last name is, just killed him in the span of 6 seconds, and that’s a generous assessment of the amount of time it took.
Dan: The Iceman went all or nothing, and I wouldn’t say he got nothing, because he sure as hell connected with Too Magnificent’s boot. Who as we guess is absolutely enlivened with rage.
Too Magnificent reaches down and grabs hold of Kyle’s hair, not taking a single solitary moment to hesitate. With a primal grunt he forces Stevenson to his feet and whips him with tremendous force right into the steel steps. The body of the veteran come to IWC crumbles around the steel before he tumbles to his knees, the side of his body leaning against the stairs for support. As the blood streams down Too Magnificent’s face and spills onto his lips, filling his mouth with the rich taste of his irony blood, he gets a rush and charges forward into a boot right to the face of Kyle. The bottom of his boot knocks the cranium of his opponent sideways into the stairs, sandwiching his brain between his foot and the steel. Not a single sound comes from Kyle as his eyes roll to the back of his head and he tumbles forward ever so dramatically into the mats. Although possibly seriously injuring his opponent’s head, the deranged Too Magnificent grabs hold of the Iceman’s hair, forcing him around and up onto his seat. Too Mag takes him around the back of the head and slides his finger across his own forehead, collecting some blood that he places across the forehead of the Iceman, who’s eyes remain listless. A target has been drawn on his frail face with the use of Too Mag’s blood, as the disgruntled former Alpha Gen member stands up, then rushes forward into another brutal boot strike directly to the forehead of his almost unconscious opponent.
Douglas: I have not seen Too Magnificent this fired up in a long, long time.
Mayne: For once he’s actually doing a decent job of channeling his rage, which should slightly prolong his inevitable defeat, which we all know is coming. This is Too Magnificent we’re talking about here after all.
Too Magnificent grabs Kyle by the hair and forces his almost lifeless, limp body to his feet before hoisting him up into the air onto his shoulder. That’s when he rushes across the mats and drives the spine of his helpless opponent right against the ring post before twisting him so that he can lift him up into a gorilla press. Instead of weakening him, the blood that oozes in pints down his face seems to be fueling him with uncontrollable, untapped rage. He turns towards the turnbuckle once more while holding his opponent up over his head then charges forward until he throws the Iceman through the air ribs first directly into the exposed steel post. For a moment, Kyle’s body tries to wrap around the steel sideways before it bounces off with a terrible thud and comes crashing to the thin outside mats. Kyle rolls onto his back with the referee on the inside of the ring, imploring Too Magnificent to end this already. With complete and utter fury Too Magnificent swipes his own blood across his fist then forces the Iceman to his knees, beginning to repeatedly drill him to the face with those now claret smeared knuckles.
Too Magnificent: You think I was going to lay down for you? Did you think I was going to just come out here and be a disappointment? Fuck you, fuck you!!
Too Magnificent drags Kyle to his feet then charges him face first right into the ring post with incredible force. The facial features bash off the steel with force while he staggers in reverse, somehow keeping his feet beneath him even throughout this brutal beating until he’s taken by the back of the head and rushed towards the ring. His helpless, broken, and battered frame rolls under the cables and ends up draped across his back, not moving an inch. The psychotic Too Magnificent, who seems to have suffered a psychological snap onto his already preexisting snap, slides into the ring and crawls right into the cover. He hooks Kyle’s leg as the official drops down and makes the count.
1
2
Suddenly Too Magnificent rises to his knees and tugs on his motionless opponent’s bangs, pulling him up to his knees then staring around with a sadistic expression. His tongue curls out from between his teeth and arches around his upper lip to lick away the blood on his skin.
Mayne: Oh great, Too Mag is going to force us to sit through his match even longer. I despise things involving Too Mag and length, which is why I’ve shortened his name, Magnificent wastes too much of my precious breath to say.
As he gets a twisted delight out of his opposition’s misery, Too Magnificent stands, forcing Kyle to his knees. Stevenson is nothing but an oversized pale paperweight as Too Mag forces his head under his seat, reaching down to wrap his arms around his waist. The bleeding Too Magnificent stands up and hoists Kyle onto his shoulders before charging forward and throwing him into the turnbuckle with a brutal powerbomb. Again Kyle’s body crumbles around the corner until on sheer instinct alone he stumbles forward right into a kick to the gut from the crimson smeared Magnificent. As soon as he gets placed in a front chancery, Kyle is hoisted into the air then dropped right on top of his head with the Midas Touch. After hitting the canvas cranium first the Iceman rolls to his back, finding himself going into seizures, shaking violently from head to toe. Somehow the beating, and the possible quick end he just put to his opponent’s career forces a smirk to Too Magnificent face, momentarily pleased by what he’s done. He slowly falls sideways into the cover, hooking Iceman’s leg almost nonchalantly.
1
2
3
The crowd finds themselves sitting in shock, not really sure what to think after the complete and utter destruction of Kyle Stevenson, at a man they were booing at the beginning of the show. Now they find themselves conflicted, even after what they’ve seen him do as Too Magnificent just sits there, his hands covered with his own blood that rushes from the wound kicked into his forehead and smiling.
Dan: Too Magnificent prolonged the agony of his opponent for as long as he wished to make it last before finally finishing him off in an unmerciful manner. We’re seeing a completely different side of this psychopath tonight, now that he’s been freed from the shackles of oppression thrust on him by the Alpha Generation.
Mayne: Shackles of oppression? This isn’t Amistad, although I loved that movie, bless you you stubby bastard Anthony Hopkins.
Douglas: Do you even try to say anything remotely relevant?
Billy: No, most the time I’m just disagreeing with you for my own twisted amusement.
Too Magnificent rises to his feet, now storming back and forth and fuming with absolute rage. Blood is still trickling down his features, spilling across his chest but he could care less as he refuses to allow the referee to lift his hand in victory. That’s when he shoves the official down, placing his massive palm to their chest and thrusting them down to the canvas. He steps towards Kyle and takes him by the hair, forcing him over onto his knees then tucking his head under his seat. Before anything can be done or said to stop this, Too Magnificent hoists the Iceman up into the air onto his shoulders then powerbombs him down violently spine first right across his knee. Kyle flips over in reverse, landing on his knees until Too Magnificent takes him by the locks of his hair, forcing him to his feet once more than charging him across the mats and pitching him through the cables. The Iceman flips forward and hits the mats with a tremendous thud while Too Magnificent spins in circles, his eyes almost ripping their ways out of his sockets.
Douglas: Too Magnificent viciously mobbing the helpless Kyle Stevenson after the bell. This guy is full of pint up emotion.
Mayne: He must have seen one of those emotional Lifetime channel movies where a woman struggles against the odds yet prevails in the end while dropping crack addicted babies from their uterus.
Shaking with anger Too Magnificent spins in circles then drops to his knees on the mats, his hands slipped into his hair, running claret through his blond locks.
Sallie: That’s enough, more than enough in fact, security, get his unemployed ass out of this building right now!
The bewilderment on the behalf of the fans is drastically altered and replaced with furious boos at the sight of the Boss’ assistant Sallie marching through the curtains and onto the stage. A microphone is held in her hand and a very judgemental expression resides on her face while she glares into the ring at Too Magnificent. His cold, calculating eyes are resting on Sallie’s face while he continues to shake from the rage that has taken control of him.
Billy: It’s about time someone had big enough balls to put their foot down about this reprehensible behavior, and oddly it’s Sallie.
Douglas: Although I hate to see her out here, I also think it be for the best if someone stopped Too Magnificent from further inflicting undue punishment on this defenseless Kyle Stevenson.
Mayne: His name alone warrants getting beaten down, but I mildly agree.
That same line of police officers attired in riot gear step out behind Sallie, forming a wall on both her sides while she lifts a finger, extending it out towards the ring. She points at Too Magnificent who continues to tremble in rage, blood streaming down his face.
Sallie: You repulse me Too Magnificent. You could have gotten back the job you love, but you threw it away the second you put your hands on Desolation. How dare you spit in the faces of those misinterpreted geniuses who were offering you all the things you don’t deserve, that you never deserved. Therefore, since you refused to abide by the terms stipulated in your new contract, your back on the unemployment line. So take in the sights, sounds, and feelings of your very last IWC match. Get him out of that ring and get him out of this building now!
Too Magnificent trembles in tremendous anger as those officers adorned in riot gear surround the ring, their hard batons thrust against their palms in preparation for any tricks from this very dangerous athlete. Unsure of what he should think, or how he should react, Too Magnificent just remains kneeling in shock. It hasn’t sunk through to his brain that his career is over, thanks to this misguided Sallie, perhaps using him to send a message to Orlando Cruze.
Billy: That’s right, get out of the ring Too Magnificent, stop wasting all our time with your presence. You’ve already been doing that for five pointless years now.
Dan: Do you not have a heart beating in your chest whatsoever? This man devoted almost half a decade of his life to this company, and now he’s just being thrown out like he’s nothing. Although I haven’t always been the biggest fan of this man’s career, he deserves much better than this. He’s fired all because he refused to be an Alpha Generation stooge any longer.
Slowly lowering his head, Too Magnificent sighs and rolls under the cables to the outside of the ring, vacating it under no real duress. All the guards now stand at his sides, walking along with him towards the back as he fails to put up even the tiniest bit of resistance. Too Magnificent keeps his head lowered towards the ramp as he makes that long march up the ramp, the fans standing and cheering his name as he strolls to the back for the very last time. Finally Too Magnificent stops on the stage and turns his cold eyes towards a smirking Sallie, who waves goodbye to him. Although deeply crushed his spirits are slightly elevated by the cheers of the crowd, who are all chanting his name loudly. He shakes his head, unable to even face them before he strolls through the curtains to the back, security following closely behind.
Douglas: What a pathetic turn of events here on Riot!
A VERBAL WARNING
The crowd is going nuts at the sight of Orlando Cruze and Nathan Creed marching down a corridor, making their way straight towards the ring with their match coming up next as part of the huge tag team tournament, blissfully ignorant to what just happened in the ring. The Icon and the Future stand side by side, united for what should be an intense, show stealing performance amongst IWC veterans. All that has transpired in their lives over the past couple of weeks seems to have been pushed to the back of their minds as they continue to move towards the ring, ready for a war against the top seat in the tag team tournament, a duo of big, menacing, crazy bastards.
Douglas: Well I’ll try to switch gears here after that despicable act, because the action is non stop here tonight Billy. Here comes Nathan Creed and Orlando Cruze prepared to the best of their abilities for what should be a hellacious, intense tag team battle.
Mayne: How can you be prepared against the unity of two psychopaths? If they were capable of doing what they did to Hurse, what makes them think they have a chance in hell of beating them?
Dan: Well, we’re just moments away from finding that out as our main event is just moments awa….
The intensity and determination of both the Icon and the Future momentarily subsides when clapping is heard in the background, coming from a shadowy doorway they were passing. The view of it was obstructed by a wall that protruded out into the corridor, making it impossible for them to spot none other than Krissie McMorris. A wide smile is present on her face as she claps with little enthusiasm at the sight of both Orlando and Nathan, who has stopped and taken immediate notice of his ex girlfriend. A cold chill is sent down his spine, as if he felt her presence before he even spotted her. Orlando lingers at his partner’s side before Creed turns, reaching out and placing his hand on the Icon’s shoulder.
Nathan: I got this, you just head towards the ring bro.
Orlando: You sure?
Creed: I’m positive.
For a moment Orlando lingers longer, unsure of rather he should leave his partner to deal with this alone or remain at his side. After a moment of contemplation he walks on towards the ring, preparing himself for the impending confrontation while Creed crosses his arms and steps towards Krissie with a titled, intense face.
Krissie: Oh, I’m so sorry to interrupt. Were you and your boyfriend having fun?
Nathan: Hahaha, come on now Krissie, we all know you’re the one with a new bitch.
A smile comes to Creed’s face as she brushes the locks of her hair behind her ear.
Krissie: Thanks again for proving why your witty retorts will never be anywhere near as good as Orlando’s.
The expression on Creed’s face changes from a positive one to a bitter demeanor while Krissie continues to stare at him, feigning sympathy.
Krissie: It’s nice to see that you two are on the same page again by the way. I seem to recall always being there when you two were having your little tiffs, encouraging you and he to reunite out of the interest of being successful, because let’s face it, you’ve never accomplished anything on your own.
Nathan: Is that right?
That same conniving smirk remains on Krissie’s face while nodding her head, assuring her ex-boyfriend of her sincerity.
Krissie: Yes, just admit it Creed, you’ve always had to depend on others to be successful in this business, you could never do a single, solitary thing on your own. If you weren’t leaning on Orlando as a crutch, you were using me as your kickstand, holding you up just long enough to achieve victory, only to watch as you messed everything up once again. And just like Cruze, after all my help, after my endless struggle to make you into something your not, a star, what did you do? Remind me sweety, wasn’t it you who used me up then threw me away?
Nathan chuckles a little, which alters Krissie’s attitude drastically this time.
Creed: No, no, no, don’t give me this whole martyr routine, because I remember things much differently.
McMorris: Oh yes, I know what your getting at. I can only hazard to guess that you’re referring to how I totally tried to salvage your pathetic career by distancing you from the family that was holding you back?
Although cringing, the Future nods his head in agreement.
Creed: I wouldn’t exactly word it that way, but your partially correct.
Krissie: Ah, leave it to Creed to misconstrue all of my intentions and piss away all my hard-work; just like you’ve pissed away your whole career. I still have trouble believing that you were stupid enough to throw away the best thing in your life, me, for Psycho and a perverted old father who never gave a damn about you. And can you tell me how that turned out for you? Did it prove to be another botched decision and foolish choice? Has your association with your family gotten you anywhere? Did uniting with your crazed half brother and your uncaring father bump you up to main event status like I could have done? Of course it didn’t. Look at what you’ve become, another parasite once again leeching off of Orlando’s hard-work and success. And we all know that won’t last very long either, because if history has shown anything, the people who actually care about your career, and you getting you to the top, are the ones you stab in the back, which ultimately leads to you plummeting right back down to square one. I have no idea why I fell in love with you in the first place, why I opened myself up to being betrayed by such a stupid son of a bitch.
Creed lowers his head and begins to rub at his eyes, as if what she’s saying has truly struck a cord deep within him. The sight of his dismay amuses her and entices her to dig deeper.
McMorris: Look at you, your right back where I left you, toiling away in the mid-card, never even coming close to sniffing the sweet scent of the World Heavyweight Championship. Maybe that belt would have been around your waist if you had just listened to me instead of kicking to the curve in favor of a man who is about to go out there and beat you once again, taking away your shot at the tag team titles. A shot you never would have even been in contention for if it weren’t for Orlando. So ask yourself a question, was it really worth ditching me over your brother? A man who could careless about stripping you of your dreams, when all I ever did was try to help you achieve them. Have fun out there, losing again thanks to some blind, pointless alliance to Orlando, or your family, an alliance we all know is not reciprocated.
Krissie kicks her hair back and starts to make her way past Creed before his arm thrusts out, his palm hitting the wall and blocking her path, causing her to freeze in mid-step. She looks down at the thick arm of Creed a bit timidly before putting on a very confident expression. With no hesitance Nathan reaches out, taking hold of a string of her hair and grinning in the process.
Nathan: Okay Krissie, I can kind of understand why your so bitter, why you see the need for getting revenge on me, but one thing has me confused.
Krissie: Big surprise.
Creed: If you think I’m such a big stupid idiot incapable of accomplishing things and all that crap you just uttered, then why are you doing this in the first place? If I’m so pathetic and not worth your time, then why are you so eager to get revenge on me, to send your little errand boys out to brutalize me? If I’m so meaningless, why are you so obsessed with getting yourself involved in my life again? Sure our split wasn’t exactly amicable, but if you never cared about me, then why try now to do everything in your power to hurt me? Did this big stupid idiot really cut you that deep? Can you explain that to me bright eyes?
Krissie opens her mouth to respond but suddenly finds herself incapable of producing speech as she stares into the eyes of the Future. For some reason she is in a state of awe the longer she is forced to stare into his face, into those enchanting pupils. Suddenly she shakes her head and pulls her hair away from Nathan’s fingers.
Krissie: I don’t have to explain myself to you…you….you….asshole!
She shoves his arm upwards and strolls past him only to be grabbed by the shoulder and spun around. Suddenly his hand is slapped over her throat then pushed back first against the wall. A look of terror fills the eyes of Creed who moves towards her intensely, his entire demeanor changing to one of anger and rage. She pulls on the wrist around her throat, gagging and then shooting him an ominous stare.
Krissie: How many times do I need to remind you what happens when you put your hands on me.
Creed: Shut the fuck up and listen.
His nostrils are flaring and the rage in his eyes is unbridled the longer he stares into the face of a woman he once loved.
Creed: I’m not worried about losing my job, after what you got your new friends to do to me last week, I’d take no greater joy in the world than to snap your neck!
Krissie tries not to show her fear, but her trembling lower lip gives her away.
Nathan: But tonight, I got a match to worry about. So if I were you, I’d take this as a warning, that if your games don’t stop, neither will when I come to exact my revenge on you!
Nathan releases her throat and allows her to run off quickly, crossing his arms over his chest and watching as she almost flees. There is tremendous intensity caught up in his tensed muscle, and enraged face, realizing that although he may have warned her, that Krissie is quite persistent.
COMMERCIAL BREAK
ORLANDO CRUZE & NATHAN CREED VS. CHAPEL & PSYCHO
Chris Cornel’s “You Know My Name” hits over the PA system as the lights dim and 'Cruze' flashes rapidly on the video screen. Down either side of the rampway white strobe lights flicker as Orlando strides through the curtain and to the top of the ramp. He looks one way and then the other before walking down the rampway and to the ring, each strobe light extinguishing, and the arean lights getting bright with every step. As he reaches the bottom he slides under the bottom rope and stands centre of the ring with his arms outstreched taking in the crowd reaction, some positive, but mostly negative.
Douglas: Welcome back to Riot! ladies and gentlemen, and as you can see, its time for our main event.
Mayne: Quite possibly the lamest main event in the history of this company. How can this match be good without any of the members of the Alpha Generation in it? If there’s no Desolation, I’m not interested.
Dan: Only you can ridicule a match as huge as this one. This is a bout that is well deserving of main event stature, as two of the top tag teams in the IWC clash with the winners moving on in the tag team tournament. You’re only going to get action like this in the IWC.
Billy: Or in the underpass of your local highway when two bums start fighting over a half eaten waffle.
Orlando steps back and forth, rotating his neck and jumping in place, getting himself physically prepared for the impending action and awaiting the arrival of his partner. Tension fills the air in anticipation of the next superstar to enter the ring when the lights dim down. Strobes float around the arena as the opening chords of ‘Polyamorous’ by Breaking Benjamin fill the arena
“LETS GOOOOOOOO!!!”
The vocals are screamed as the song kicks up a gear and Nathan walks through the curtains to the cheers of the local fans. He psyches himself up and he slowly approaches the ring, the lights flickering around him. As he nears the ring the chorus kicks in and Nathan dashes to the ring, sliding under the bottom rope. He bounds to his feet and climbs the turnbuckle, getting the fans pumped up for yet another high quality Nathan Creed match. Many of the fans are very energized by his presence as Nathan feeds off the frenzy of the crowd, stepping towards Orlando who pats him on the shoulder, whispering strategy into his ear.
Mayne: Now how can I be expected to enjoy a match when there’s a woman beating piece of garbage involved in it? I can’t believe his completely unprovoked attack on Krissie McMorris just a few moments ago, doesn’t he know that there will be right wing female protestors outside the arena, who smell of BO and don’t shave their armpits, which is totally turning me on right now.
Douglas: Stop talking, please, it’s for the benefit of all humanity if you just shut up now. If any female deserved to be threatened like that, it was Krissie, who’s been toying with Nathan’s life for weeks now. I hope someone finally puts an end to her, Sallie, and Savior and Riddick once and for all. It might very well be the tag team standing in the ring who will rise up and end the tyranny that has been inflicted upon them.
Mayne: Fat chance, I bet they don’t even make it past Psycho and Chapel tonight, who both seem to be particularly disgruntled this evening. Why they just didn’t take out their frustrations on Robin Brooks is completely beyond me. Physically beating on her is a time tested stress reliever.
Nathan and Orlando are still discussing strategy when the lights go dim and suddenly red lights begin to flash and light the staging area. The speakers throughout the arena come to life and the scream of ‘REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH!!!’ is heard as “Personal Jesus” by Marilyn Manson begins to play as fire rises around the entranceway. A massive form is seen shrouded in darkness standing behind the flames. As the song hits the hard, echoing chorus for the first time, Chapel walks through the fire and out to the aisle, the Cartel Championship glistening around his waist. The massive zealot walks to the ring, his head covered in a black hood and a black trench coat covering his body. He walks up to the side of the ring and stands outside the ropes. The hardcore titan steps into the ring and stands in the center. He slowly removes his coat and tosses it to the side and finally rips off his hood and tosses that to the side as well, revealing his black and white War Angel shirt. With red light filling the ring, Chapel stretches out his arms and lifts up his head looking to the sky. With the lights dying down and his music fading out, Chapel stands in the ring and blesses himself with his taped fists, ready to battle. He and Orlando exchange a long hard stare with one another, the Icon’s eyes glancing down at the glistening title around Chapel’s waist, then back up into the face of the number one contender.
Douglas: Orlando staring down just one of his opponents for this evening, a man he’s got to have new found respect for after what he did to Hurse.
Mayne: Chapel may be the most despicable, diabolical, and disgusting individual I’ve ever run across, and no, those were compliments. How can this man have the audacity to stand in the ring when he short cut his way to the World title? Absolutely nothing about this man, expect for the fact that he waxes his bald head, can be considered respectable in the slightest.
Dan: I gladly disagree with you again Billy, Chapel is perhaps one of the greatest to ever step foot into an IWC ring, and he certainly didn’t need to short cut his way to the title, because that belt was pretty much guaranteed to him the second he matched up with Hurse.
Billy: Oh please, everyone in their right mind knows Hurse would have bested Chapel, just he’s bested so many in the past.
Dan: Such as?
Mayne: Um, uh, Jack Kelly?
Chapel and Orlando continue to have an intense stare-down with one another, realizing that they’re about to lock up once again and thus causing a lot of buried animosity to resurface. The arena lights dim, the stage slowly fills with smoke, the constant banging of the drum's echoes throughout the arena shortly followed by the guitar as the song heats up and gets faster. Blood For Blood by Machine Head finally starts to kick in as The shadow lurks in the smoke, a huge ball of ball spirals up from the rampway and Psycho emerges from the smoke. A hooded sleeveless jacket covers his torso and the hood up... He walks menacingly down to the ring with an icy cold glare in his eyes. The fire now ignites all the way down the ramp as he walks down the fiery corridor towards the ring. He slides into the ring underneath the ropes and de-robes himself, he throws the garment over the ropes to the outside and crouches down in the corner and grasps his hands together and waits. Chapel approaches him and sticks his palm out, swiping it in front of Psycho’s face, yet he isn’t moving, not budging an inch, remaining like a crouched statue. All the while his eyes remain focused on his half brother Nathan Creed standing across the ring, exchanging the glare with his former Project Lost Cause teammate. There is some recovered hatred for one another clear in their faces, yet they seem more confused on how to handle each other as opponents.
Mayne: Why won’t this man just hang himself with his shoe laces already? He’s got plenty of reason to. I mean, just look at him, yuck!
Douglas: Although Psycho borders on the more schizophrenic side of the mental capacity spectrum, he’s got plenty of reason to live, especially getting his hands on Robin Brooks. That was a tense situation between himself and the Black Widow earlier tonight, but this stare-down between himself and his brother is even more tense.
Billy: Psycho is probably still upset that Nathan ripped the head off his favorite GI Joe doll.
Douglas: They didn’t even know each other as children.
Mayne: What I’m talking about probably happened like two weeks ago.
The crowd is on its feet as the Icon stands directly in the center of the ring reciprocating a very stern, cold stare with Psycho, who is opting to start out the match for his team. The crowd is watching closely, anxious to see both of these teams lock up in what should be an amazing tag team match between two well liked parings. The bell rings in the background as both Psycho and Cruze step towards one another, the camera briefly switching to Killjoy standing in the rafters above, watching this action closely. Psycho and Orlando extend their arms and immediately lock up in a collar elbow tie. Their huge frames push against one another yet neither man finds the leverage and advantage they’re looking for. Nevertheless they continue to push and pull against one another, grinding their teeth and then finally breaking away, realizing this is an exercise in futility. They give each other a very intense stare then lunge forward into another collar elbow tie, struggling against one another to the best of their abilities. Again they find it almost impossible to get the advantage over their equally as strong opponent, neither man capable of getting any traction on the canvas. Therefore they break off and stare long and hard into each other’s faces once more, Psycho stepping forward and slapping Cruze to the cheek out of a fit of anger.
Douglas: Well I guess this match isn’t going to start off with some textbook chain wrestling.
Mayne: Submission wrestling is a lost art when it comes to Psycho, the man is a brawler, so he should stay one dimensional.
Dan: Billy, your stupidity never ceases to amaze me.
Billy: Well I am pretty amazing.
The already damaged cranium of Cruze suffers from this slap to the face as he steps back, placing his hand to his jaw. That’s when he turns to Psycho and slugs him right across the face, the shot staggering his giant opponent. Psycho is stumbling in reverse as Cruze grabs him by the back of the head, lobbing forearm strikes repeatedly into the side of his face. He changes it up though and connects with a sensational knife edge chop right across Psycho’s chest, almost taking him down in the process. Again he delivers this same blow, backing Psycho across the ring before the Icon lobs another fist directly at his face. This time Psycho gets his arm up, blocking it then turning with his body, delivering a hard knee directly to Cruze’s tapped up abdomen, causing him to double over. Psycho steps in and throws a stiff haymaker right into Cruze’s bandaged forehead, taking him down hard to the canvas across his back. He rolls across it and gets to his feet only to be taken down again with a hard running back elbow to the face. As soon as he crashes onto his back Psycho drops down beside him, taking hold of the back of Cruze’s head, elevating it off the canvas to add impact to the repeated closed fists he’s launching into his face. Referee Princeton steps in, taking hold of his arm, trying to force Psycho off Cruze only for the sadistic one to shoot his menacing eyes in the official’s direction. Princeton backs away as calmly as he can while Psycho rolls Orlando to his knees and delivers a hard right hand into his face that knocks him right back down across his spine.
Thinking quickly, Orlando rolls across the ring and finds his way to the cables, using them to stand himself up. Just as he gets to his feet Psycho steps in and takes hold of his shoulder, standing him up long enough to almost level him with a stiff knife edge chop. The shot was delivered with such impact that it almost knocks Cruze’s legs out from under him, causing him to hit the cables and continue leaning on them for support, about the only thing holding him upright. Psycho now takes him by the wrist and whips him off across the ring, sending him barreling into the cables rather quickly. The Icon turns, hitting the ropes then being sent charging forward right into Psycho who rushes forward with another attempted back elbow to his face. Cruze ducks it and continues across the ring, bouncing off the ropes then coming back in at Psycho who turns, lobbing a boot directly at his opponent’s face. Orlando ducks that shot as well though, rushing into the ropes behind Psycho, building some real momentum. After hitting the cables he comes back in at Psycho who turns to face him only to have Orlando drop down into a baseball slide right between his legs. He gets to his knees behind Psycho, grabbing hold of his ankles and lifting up on them, causing the big man to tumble forward face first into the canvas. Cruze stands up and then lunges forward, dropping down at Psycho’s side, taking hold of his arm and trying to force it up into the crossface.
Mayne: Yes, please let this be the end of this match already.
Douglas: Orlando going for his crossface on this sadistic savage that is Psycho, a man not prone to tapping out, but there’s always a first time for everything.
In a fit of anger Orlando lifts his elbow, beginning to drive it repeatedly into the back of Psycho’s head while attempting to stretch his arm out to his side and get that submission locked in. After three more brutal elbows to the skull Psycho becomes weak enough for Cruze to apply the crossface, interlocking his hands around in front of his opponent’s face. An outraged Psycho tries to pry the arms away from his throat while forcing himself up to his knees, Orlando beginning to lean in reverse as he keeps hold of the submission. That’s when Psycho wraps his arm around Orlando’s ankle and with his brute strength breaks the hands off from around his chin, standing up as he keeps hold of his opponent’s leg. He lifts up on it and causes Orlando to roll over in reverse right onto his feet as Psycho steps in, wrapping his arms around his waist. He hoists Cruze up into the air then turns before driving him down hard spine first directly into the canvas with a brutal belly to belly twisting suplex. Cruze’s already battered body is driven with force into the canvas by Psycho who rises to his feet slowly then approaches Chapel who has his hand thrust out, wanting to get in there. While shaking his arm to fight off the effects of that crossface he slams the War Angel’s hand, tagging him into the match.
Mayne: As if things weren’t already bad enough for Orlando, now he’s just moments away from clashing with the monster that is Chapel. He’s as close to being a flesh in blood monster without having to have bolts in his neck, a dorky flat top, and stilted dialogue, wait, scratch that last one.
Douglas: They don’t call him the King of Monsters for nothing, which would explain why small Japanese are so frightened by his presence. Orlando is about to find out why this man is a monster.
Billy: Nice segway.
While holding his ribs, Cruze tries to force himself to his feet only to be taken by the wrist and dragged into a forceful short arm lariat from Chapel. The impact launches Cruze down hard to the canvas while he rolls to his elbows and knees, a very dazed, glossy look in his eyes. The War Angel is far from through though as he steps towards Cruze and takes him around the chin, dragging him up to his feet and grasping hold of his wrist. He attempts to whip Orlando off across the ring with a snarl but somehow Cruze turns and counters, instead dragging Chapel forward into a kick to the gut. Chapel is bent forward before Orlando steps in and takes him around the neck, placing him in a front chancery. Before he has time to drop back and deliver the move, Chapel takes hold of his oppositions’ wrist, swinging his massive frame out of position for the DDT. He turns towards Orlando and uses his gripped wrist to drag him forward into another short arm clothesline. Cruze ducks his arm this time then turns his side to the War Angel, hooking up his leg and dropping back into a big Russian leg sweep. Both men’s large frames crash into the canvas while Orlando rolls over in reverse right onto his feet, reaching down with his arm and wrapping it around Chapel’s neck. He bridges Chapel up off the canvas while holding him in a reverse DDT position then dropping to his seat as he delivers that very move, planting the King of Monsters hard across the back of his head. The King of Monsters flops around and wraps his hands about his cranium after the collision while Orlando rolls towards Nathan, slapping his hand, tagging him into the match. The crowd starts to cheer at the sight of this, especially as both Cruze and Creed start up the turnbuckle, doing so side by side.
The War Angel tries to force himself to his feet, holding his neck as Orlando and Creed put their arms over one another’s shoulders, standing up on the top rope then launching themselves off at the same time. They both fly through the air and connect with a double missile dropkick directly to Chapel’s chest. The fans react with delight as Chapel is knocked from his feet and sent hurling to the canvas, both his opponents rolling away from him on opposite sides. Nathan stands up and steps over Chapel, moving towards Orlando who grabs him by the head, bending it forward. He tucks Creed’s head under his seat and wraps his arms around his waist, lifting him up into a powerbomb position. The crowd is shocked as Orlando pushes on the back of Creed’s thighs, sending him moonsaulting off his shoulders down right on top of the War Angel. Creed rolls out of the way and stands, Orlando steps forward and jumps into the air, coming down spine first directly into Chapel’s ribs. At the same time Creed thrusts himself upward and connects with a leg drop to Chapel’s throat, both men hitting some tandem offense. The War Angel turns away from the Icon who rolls away, Nathan crawling quickly into the cover.
1
2
Psycho enters the ring and drops a quick leg across the back of Nathan’s head to break up the three count. Princeton finally works up the nerve to approach Psycho, demanding he vacate the ring as he stands and shoots another menacing glare in the direction of the official. He smirks crudely before stepping into his corner, leaving both Creed and Chapel trying to force themselves to their feet.
Douglas: A very nice combination of moves from Nathan Creed and Orlando Cruze, showing why they’re considered arguably the greatest tag team in IWC history.
Mayne: Your building them up like they’re the combination of Optimus Prime and Megatron. And I assure you such a combination is impossible, I should know, because I not only have the Transformers DVD box set, but I also have the transformers footy pajamas.
Dan: Yes, and we all know that your wearing them right now beneath your clothing.
Mayne: I don’t wear anything under my clothing, not even underwear.
Chapel stands up only to be met with a blistering knife edge chop directly to the sternum. The War Angel staggers in reverse, almost losing his footing before Creed steps in and takes him around the head, delivering a swift headbunt right to his cranium. Immediately Creed lives to regret delivering the move, his legs almost cutting out beneath him and his eyes glossing over, Chapel’s head harder than he thought. An angry War Angel stands up straight and takes Creed by both sides of his face then delivers a devastating headbunt that knocks Nathan to the canvas. Fuming in outrage as Chapel steps towards Nathan, he grabs him around the neck, choosing to roll him to his knees, forcing him up to his feet. As soon as Creed gets to a standing base though Chapel takes him under the arm and by the back of the head, rushing him forward across the ring. He then throws Creed high, high up into the air and sends him crashing down spine first into the canvas with an unbelievable hip toss. Nathan sits up, his eyes bugging out of their sockets as he reaches for his arched back, the hip toss almost breaking his spine. Chapel steps methodically towards Creed now, grabbing him around the face and forcing him to his feet before bending forward, burying his shoulder into his gut. Nathan can’t prevent it as he’s hoisted into the air by Chapel and charged across the ring, being driven spine first directly into the enemy corner. A groan of agony emanates from Nathan’s body while Chapel stands up and slaps Psycho’s palm, tagging him back into the match. As soon as Psycho enters Chapel steps to the other side of Creed, both he and his partner pulling their hands back and delivering a vicious double knife edge chop directly to Nathan’s sternum.
The chops almost rip Creed’s chest apart, yet Chapel and Psycho continue doing it, delivering more and more of them to the battered, bruised sternum of their opponent. Nathan tries to cover up, but there’s absolutely no point to it as Chapel takes Creed by the back of the head, forcing him down out of the corner. The shove causes the Future to roll onto his seat, welts present on his chest as Psycho rushes into the cables in front of him and Chapel bounces off the ropes behind him. Nathan’s eyes open in time and his head becomes clear right as Chapel throws his hip into the back of Creed’s head and Psycho connects with a running knee strike directly to his face. The double impact sandwiches Creed’s cranium and causes him to drop to his back, covering his face while rolling across the canvas in pain. As he continues to grip at his cranium he doesn’t spot Psycho stepping in and taking hold of his wrist, forcing him up to his feet then pulling him side first into his shoulders. Psycho stands up, holding Creed in a torture rack position while wrapping his arm around his neck, Chapel standing up behind him. He goes rushing into the cables in front of Psycho though, bouncing off then coming back in as he delivers a hard boot strike directly to the side of Nathan’s head, able to get his foot up and over his partner’s shoulder. The boot echoes throughout the arena and gives Psycho the momentum to pull Nathan’s body around out of the torture rack into a sit out spinebuster. He buries his shoulders into the back of Creed’s legs, going for the pinfall.
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Orlando returns the favor by diving in and delivering a double forearm to the side of Psycho’s head, breaking up the pinfall attempt.
Billy: Just like Nathan and Orlando a second ago, Chapel and Psycho displaying their tag team capabilities.
Douglas: I’m surprised at how well these two have gelled as a team over the past few weeks.
Mayne: They probably bonded over a few severed heads. They’re a good conversation starter.
Princeton steps in and puts his shoulder into the wrapped up mid-section of Cruze, shoving him backwards into his corner while he points and shouts at a rising Psycho. The demented figure gives Orlando an “up yours” taunt with an upward thrust of his arm before turning towards Creed who has gotten to his knees. As soon as Psycho steps in, Creed throws a desperate right hand into his ribs, causing his half brother to bend forward. Nathan then throws another right hand into his mid-section, continuing to double him over as now Creed forces himself to his feet. He quickly throws a right into Psycho’s face, followed by another shot, the crowd really getting pumped up and energetic as Nathan tries to get himself back into this match. With one more well placed right hand Psycho is staggered but not taken down, allowing Creed to charge across the ring into the ropes in front of him. He bounces off and comes back in at Psycho who suddenly steps forward and bends down, catching his brother against his shoulders long enough to stand then drop in reverse with a hard Samoan Slam. Shockwaves of pain course through the bandaged spine of Creed, as he sits up and shouts from the anguish coursing through his frame. Psycho rises to his feet and slaps Chapel’s outstretched palm, tagging him into this match. As he enters Nathan tries to stand up only to be leveled with a straight closed fist delivered directly to the forehead. That’s when the booing crowd’s attention turns towards the stage where Desolation has emerged through the curtains, pushing a still entirely bandaged Hurse through the curtains in his wheelchair. The only area of his body not wrapped in bandages continues to be his eyes, which vindictively lock on the ring.
Douglas: Oh great, here come the party crashers. Why do Desolation and Hurse have to be out here?
Mayne: They’re part of the tag team tournament as well, and Hurse was slated to defend his title this Sunday against Chapel until he was beaten within an inch of his life. Maybe he’s come out here to watch this match or forfeit the World title as he claimed he would at the beginning of this show.
Dan: I still don’t believe he’d stop being so self centered he’d give up his World title, especially to Chapel.
Chapel catches the sight of Hurse and Desolation from the corner of his eye, his face immediately filling with rage at the mere sight of them. Instead of going after either man though he keeps his cool and instead rushes into the ropes, bouncing off of them. As he comes back in at the laid out Creed he jumps into the air, catching some surprising height then coming down with a big splash onto his sprawled out opponent. The splash almost flattened Creed like a pancake as he turns away from the War Angel, holding his bruised and battered mid-section. Chapel stands up and takes hold of Creed’s head, dragging him over onto his knees and then gripping hold of his wrist as he forces him up to his feet. After delivering a hard boot to Nathan’s gut he’s doubled over, but then pushed back up to an upright base and dragged forward into a devastating open hand chop to the sternum. Creed is taken down to the canvas across his back while Chapel still holds onto his opposition’s wrist, tugging on it and forcing him up to his feet. As soon as he stands Chapel pulls him forward by that gripped hand right into his shoulders, standing up with Nathan in the fireman’s carry. He now places his hands to Creed’s chest and knee, forcing him up and over his head as Nathan falls towards the canvas only to be caught across the War Angel’s chest now. Chapel drops back into a fallway slam as soon as he caught Creed across his chest, sending Nathan spiraling through the air then finally crashing down to the canvas. Nathan begins to flop around, holding his back in terrible pain, spent already after the violent, brutal blood letting he was forced to endure just last week.
Orlando is slapping his hands together and stomping his foot on the apron, trying to rally behind Creed, to get him back to his feet. Nothing seems to be working considering what Nathan’s body has been through over the past few weeks, trying his best to force himself to his feet. Just as he gets up though, Chapel comes rushing in with a stiff knee strike directly to his opposition’s face. The collision causes Nathan to fly backwards off his knees and crash to his back on the canvas, rolling in reverse across it. Now that he’s sure his opponent is down Chapel turns towards Hurse, extending his finger out in his direction before Desolation steps in front of the World Champion, shaking his head in the process.
Chapel: Don’t worry, you’ll get yours too.
Chapel spins to face his opponent who is still trying to force himself through the pain that has been inflicted on his body. Nevertheless he starts forcing himself to his feet only to have Chapel step in and move behind his back, wrapping his arms around his head, placing him in a sleeper hold. The air is being cut off to Creed’s cranium as he gasps for air, trying to force the arms away from his neck but finding it almost impossible to do so. All the while Chapel shoots his sights towards the stage where Hurse watches through his layers upon layers of bandages, clearly infuriated by what he’s watching. Chapel really squeezes at Nathan’s neck, perhaps imagining that his opponent is the man he was slated to face for the World title at Breathless. Creed’s face has become a bright shade of red while Orlando is still clapping his hands and stomping his foot, trying his best to motivate his tired, battered opponent. That’s when the crowd starts to do the same, slapping the barricade and stomping their feet to create a loud rumble, which finally seems to be doing the trick as Creed responds by forcing his way upwards. Chapel exerts a little more pressure on the submission, but finds it difficult to keep the resilient Nathan down as he finally gets to his feet. His arms begin to flail and shake out to his sides before he turns and throws an elbow into Chapel’s gut, followed by another hard strike. The War Angel bends forward as his grip begins to weaken on Nathan’s neck before with one last elbow to the ribs he’s forced to break the sleeper. Nathan stands up and straight then delivers a stiff knife edge chop directly to Chapel’s sternum, causing him to stand up and then stagger in reverse. He hits the cables but roars, charging forward right at Nathan who drops down into a quick dropkick directly to Chapel’s knee, taking his legs out from beneath him. Chapel tumbles to all fours but immediately begins to force himself upwards before Nathan turns towards him, and even in his exhausted state charges forward, jumping over his opponent’s head. He wraps his arms around Chapel’s neck and pulls him down into a flip over swinging neckbreaker.
Douglas: Nathan finally answering back against this brutality that has been inflicted on him throughout the majority of this match.
Mayne: It’s about time, I was getting tired of watching him being dominated by two men I hate just as equally as him.
Dan: You don’t like anyone.
Mayne: That’s not true, I send myself a birthday card every year in the mail, but I am too cheap to buy a gift.
Douglas: Naturally.
Billy: After all, being me is already the greatest gift of all.
Everyone in the Manhattan Center is rallied behind Creed as his eyes flutter, trying to maintain his consciousness long enough to make the tag and thus keep his team in this match. As soon as he forces himself to a standing base and glares at the eager Orlando, Chapel rises to his feet beside him. Realizing that it would be futile to go for the tag Nathan instead steps in with a fist to Chapel’s forehead, followed by another strike that staggers his large opponent. He now takes Chapel by the back of the head and begins to charge him at the turnbuckle to slam him face first into the top pad only for the War Angel to shove him off, sending him charging into the corner. Creed thinks quickly though, stepping up the ropes and then jumping off the top one, twisting in mid-air as he lands on Chapel’s shoulder. Instead of taking him down though the War Angel wraps his arm around Creed’s mid-section, keeping him in a spinebuster position then turning to face his corner. He goes rushing forward with Nathan elbowing him to the side of his face and then drives him hard back first into the enemy corner.
Nathan groans in tremendous pain, his arms shooting out to his sides and fists balling up while Chapel stands and makes the tag to Psycho. Chapel wraps Nathan up in an abdominal stretch and drags him out of the corner back towards the center of the ring as Psycho slips through the ropes. He now rushes forward and dives head first right into Creed’s exposed ribs, the crowd groaning the sight of this before Chapel changes up his submission into a pump handle position. He lifts him up into the air then twists him around so that Creed is falling forward towards the canvas only to land on both Chapel’s and Psycho’s knees, the two delivering a double gut buster. The fans react with shock over the double team while both goliaths place their palms to Creed’s chest, forcing him up to his feet while they stand up in front of him, wrapping their arms around his neck and dropping back into a double downward spiral. Nathan’s face almost smashes into pieces as a result of the collision while Chapel rolls away from him but Psycho twists his body, ending up straddling Creed’s upper back. He wraps his arms around Nathan’s throat and lifts up on his head, placing him in a rear naked choke. Desolation nods towards Hurse who was telling himself, the Dark Man agreeing with a twisted smirk on his face. Their continued presence has really drawn the ire of Chapel who slips through the cables onto the apron, watching them in anger.
Douglas: Chapel continuing to be distracted by the presence of World Champion, for the time being at least, Hurse, and the Dark Man Desolation, yet you certainly can’t tell he was distracted judging by that last series of double team moves.
Mayne: I have to admit both these teams know how to work well together, but that certainly doesn’t mean I have to have an iota of respect for any of them. I’ll respect a cantaloupe before I respect Orlando, and hey, they both have the same personality.
Inside the ring Psycho is still squeezing at Nathan’s throat, causing him to gasp and groan in pain while trying to force himself to his feet. He gets one knee beneath him and tries his best to push himself all the way up, causing Psycho to stop straddling his back and step to his side. Although no air is getting to his damaged head Nathan forces himself up to his feet, flailing his arms, trying to force himself out of this submission. He extends his hands out in the direction of Orlando who is extending his palm into the ring as well, begging for a tag, demanding Creed make it to his corner. Nathan tries to will himself forward in the direction of his partner but can’t find the strength or the will power to reach him, Psycho holding him back while twisting at his neck with the rear naked choke. There is fire in the eyes of both brothers, who had no problem locking up with one another in this match, one trying to even snap the other’s neck. Even while being gripped so viciously in this hold Nathan’s face tenses, his veins sticking out through his flesh, trying his best to stay on his feet and reach his partner. His resilience and endurance is subsiding, fading quickly as his legs begin to cut out from beneath him. All the while Psycho is only increasing the strength being transmitted to his rear naked choke.
After taking so much Creed crumbles to his knees, attempting to keep himself upright, Psycho bent forward behind him, still holding onto the submission tightly. He seems to have Creed exactly where he wants him, becoming confident for a second when Nathan reaches back, taking him around the legs. He lifts up on them and causes Psycho to crash backwards onto the canvas, Creed standing up and turning towards him with his last ditch bit of strength. He steps through the legs and pulls his half brother over onto his chest, locking him in the Courtesy Call. Psycho is shocked while he pushes himself up onto his elbows, roaring in pain and laughing in the process the longer he’s held in this submission by Nathan. Desolation is yawning on the stage as he discusses something with the heavily bandaged World Champion.
Douglas: Creed has got the Courtesy Call locked in on Psycho, we might see a submission here.
Mayne: How ironic would it be for Creed to force his own brother to tap out? I’ll tell you, it would be well, ironic.
Dan: That went nowhere. You can use that phrase to describe Billy’s progression through life as well.
In the ring Psycho is still roaring from the pain coursing through his back, Killjoy shouting down from the rafters for him to get through this submission. The Sadistic One finds it very difficult to do so as his eyes open widely, Chapel entering the ring and charging up behind Creed. He takes him around the head, trying to drag him down into a bulldog, however, Nathan pushes him off but in the process is forced to break the Courtesy Call. The monstrous frame of Chapel hits the cables back first and comes back in at Nathan who jumps into the air, dropkicking him to the chest then twisting to come down with a splash right on top of Psycho’s back. The kick sends Chapel spiraling into the cables which Orlando pulls down, causing him to trip over them backwards, crashing hard to the outside mats. Nathan stands up and then jumps over Psycho, tucking into a roll where he meets Orlando now standing in his corner, slapping his hand. A huge ovation comes from the fans at the sight of Orlando being tagged into this match, quickly entering the ring as a smirking Psycho gets to his feet. As soon as he gets up though, Orlando flies across the ring with an airborne lariat directly to his throat. The collision knocks Psycho from his feet and sends him crashing hard to the canvas across his back. Orlando rolls across the canvas, getting to his feet as the man with a hell of a pain threshold rises to his feet as well. He gets up when Cruze waffles him to the jaw with a closed fist that almost takes his large opponent down, Cruze then taking him by the back of the head. He charges him right at the turnbuckle and bashes Psycho’s head off of it, forcing him to stumble in reverse only for Cruze to jump onto the second rope of the corner in front of him. He springs off then twists in mid-air as he comes down with a crossbody on top of Psycho, knocking him to the canvas. Orlando then rolls across the ring right onto his feet, standing up in time to spot Chapel rising onto the apron.
Douglas: Orlando got the tag and he is just taking to Psycho, with his sights now set on Chapel.
Mayne: He’s pretty hard to miss, I think I’ve seen SUVs with smaller back sides and less carriage space.
A fired up and motivated Orlando throws a fist at Chapel’s face only to be blocked by the number one contender. He then grabs hold of the back of Orlando’s head with both hands, dropping down off the apron and dragging Cruze throat first into the top rope. His throat snaps off the cables and causes him to turn away from the War Angel, bent forward and gagging as a result. Behind him the King of Monsters rolls into the cables and gets to his feet, rushing at his dazed opponent who spins around and catches him with a spinebuster out of nowhere. Chapel is driven hard to the canvas while Cruze pops right back up to his feet, turning towards Psycho who is charging out of the corner with a lariat. Orlando side steps it and takes him by the arm, forcing him down to the canvas as he tries to lock in the crossface once more. Killjoy runs his hands through his hair in the rafters, not liking the sight of this whatsoever, on the contrary Hurse’s eyes indicate that he’s mildly pleased.
Just as Cruze reaches out to interlock his hands in front of Psycho’s jaw the big man rolls forward nimbly and reaches his feet. He turns towards Orlando and grabs hold his legs, lifting them up off the canvas, tucking them under his armpits. Without warning Psycho rolls Cruze over right into the liontamer, the fans reacting with shock. Cruze pushes himself up onto his elbows, yelling in pain while Chapel has risen to his feet, charging into the cables at the side of both his opponent and his partner. He bounces off, coming back in and jumping into the air as he delivers almost a standing frog splash over the back of Orlando while he was still trapped in the liontamer. Official Princeton is demanding one of these men vacate the ring yet neither Chapel or Psycho will comply as Orlando is rolled onto his back. Psycho still grips hold of his legs and drops back, catapulting him through the air only for Nathan to come out of nowhere, catching his partner around the waist. He saved him from falling to the canvas but keeps hold of him as he turns his back to the rising Psycho and Chapel. As soon as they stand Creed drops back belly to belly suplexing Cruze, launching him into the air and sending him crashing back first into both Psycho and Chapel. His body twists as it comes down across both men’s sternums, the fans shocked over that last move but applauding out of sheer wonder nevertheless.
Dan: Creed sacrificing his own tag team partner for that one, I’ve never seen anyone belly to belly suplexed into one of their opponents before.
Billy: Why does everyone try to be innovative in these matches, innovation is a dangerous concept.
Douglas: Which would explain your constantly stilted dialogue.
A tired Orlando to gets to his feet as Nathan comes rushing at him, jumping into the air. Cruze pushes him up by his gut so that he lands on his shoulders, then turns towards his downed opponents and powerbombs Creed down back first right into Psycho’s ribs. Psycho begins to convulse on the canvas as a result while Creed rolls in reverse off of one opponent and onto the other, hooking Chapel’s leg. The official steps in, reminding Creed that he is not the legal man in this match, infuriating him so. He rises to his feet and protests while Cruze is handling both Chapel and Psycho rising to his feet in front of him. He lobs a fist into Chapel’s face, then turns, delivering a strike to Psycho’s temple, constantly alternating between both his opponents, each one receiving slugs to their craniums. They reach their feet no matter how valiantly he tries though, forcing him to grunt as he rushes backwards into the cables, bouncing off and coming back in at them with who knows what being planned. They both stand up and interlock arms, going for a double clothesline that Cruze ducks under. He rushes into the ropes behind them, bouncing off then launching himself through the air with a double clothesline only to be caught around the throat by both Psycho and Chapel. Orlando’s eyes widen while he’s hoisted into the air and then driven into the canvas with a double chokeslam that almost breaks the ring in half.
Nathan turns away from the referee and finally spots Psycho going for the pin, hooking his partner’s leg. Chapel is on his feet and is moving in to ensure that Creed doesn’t stop the count only for Nathan to switch behind his back, taking him around the waist. To everyone’s shock Creed pulls Chapel over into a German suplex right on top of Psycho’s back as he was pinning Orlando. Both men’s bodies hit each other with great force and causes them to roll across the canvas while Nathan holds his abdomen, glaring in Creed’s direction. He may be grateful the pin was broken up, but it certainly hurt like hell to do so.
Douglas: Wow, Nathan German suplexed Chapel on top of Psycho, what a unique way to break up a pinfall attempt.
Mayne: Somebody is going to get killed in this match, which should actually begin to make things entertaining.
The fans are still going nuts while Creed helps Cruze to his feet, both men interlocking hands as Psycho stands up with his back to the ropes in front of them. They both go rushing in and double clothesline him over the cables to the outside of the ring, Psycho hitting the outside mats with forced, wiped out across them. Both a chuckling Creed and a smirking Cruze turn back towards the ring when they’re both hit with brutal lariats from the arms of Chapel. He staggers forward into the ropes, leaning on them for support while Cruze and Creed gag, rolling to their knees and trying to force themselves to their feet. As soon as Nathan gets up, Chapel steps in and delivers a hard, swift, and stiff boot directly to the side of his face, causing Creed to fly back and hit the ring with force. Orlando is still forcing himself to a standing base when Chapel bends forward, steadying himself then rushes forward for a lariat. Cruze ducks it and launches his arm across Chapel’s chest, setting up for the Rock Bottom to a huge eruption of cheers from the fans. Chapel elbows Orlando to the back of the head then quickly pulls a switch, slipping behind Cruze and bending forward, burying his shoulders into his spine. The War Angel stands up, hoisting Cruze into the air across his shoulders in a torture rack then jumping into the air, coming down seat first to the canvas. Orlando bounces off his shoulders with the Cardinal Sin, flying off them and then corkscrewing towards the canvas. After hitting the ring it’s obvious that he has been completely taken out by that last move, Chapel leaning back-first into the cover.
Princeton informs Chapel that he is not the legal man, infuriating the King of Monsters, realizing that Psycho is still recovering on the outside of the ring. He reaches up and pie faces Princeton, shoving him backwards and causing the referee to crash hard back first into the ring. After hitting the canvas he rolls across it, gripping the back of his head, Chapel using this time to force himself to his feet. His eyes suddenly cut to the outside of the ring as one of the ballsiest displays is unfolding, Desolation actually wheeling Hurse to the ringside area. He leaves him there while bending forward and talking into his ear, even if he’s unsure he can be heard through all the bandages. Neither man seems fearful of Chapel who steps towards the ropes, malice clearer than ever before in his demented eyes.
Billy: Um, I’d be worried about Hurse’s well being right now if Desolation weren’t right there to have his back. Chapel looks like a wolf who just spotted a baby lamb away from the rest of the pack. Hmmm, now I’m craving baby lamp.
Dan: I hope not sexually, but that’s besides the point. Chapel has his eyes on Hurse, and I’m really starting to question just how smart it was of Desolation to roll him so close to the ring.
The furious War Angel steps over the ropes, no longer hesitating while Chapel steps towards him, lifting a finger into the air. He demands that the King of Monsters halt or face the repercussions. Chapel glares at him, his smile becoming wider and more menacing, yet the last thing Desolation will allow is for harm to come to the World Champion. That’s when he’s grabbed by the shoulder and spun around, Jon Rich standing right behind him. In his palms is a kindo stick which he uses to waffle Desolation right in the forehead. The Dark Man turns away from Rich, staggering across the mats and placing his palm to his forehead before Jon steps up behind him, swinging the cane over his spine now. Desolation arches his back and staggers towards the barricade, turning to face Jon who rushes forward and swings the cane with such force that it almost cracks as it connects with the Dark Man’s face. Desolation is knocked over the barricade backwards, crashing onto the outside mats as Rich breaks the cane over his knee then throws it down in a fit of rage.
Mayne: What the hell? Why won’t Jon Rich leave well enough alone? Doesn’t he know what he’s getting himself into every time he picks a fight with Desolation?
Douglas: I don’t think he cares about possible repercussions, he just doesn’t want to get his hands on Desolation, he needs to.
Billy: But now Hurse is defenseless, absolutely defenseless, all thanks to a cowardly attack at the hands of Rich.
The Dark Man forces himself up to his feet slowly, his legs almost cutting out beneath him in the process as he throws punches at make believe individuals, shadow figments. Its clear that those shots to the head with the cane greatly affected his head as Jon climbs up onto the apron in the ring, shaking from being so outraged, and relishing in the opportunity to get his hands on Desolation. He jumps into the air now, landing feet first on the second cable then moonsaulting high into the air, catching tremendous height as he soars over the barricade and comes down right on top of Desolation’s shoulder. Both men are knocked down to the concrete with the fans going absolutely insane. Everyone is up, screaming, applauding what they’ve just witnessed.
Fans: HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT!
Rich rolls across the exposed concrete, holding his arms around his waist, grimacing in pain while Desolation lies on his back, convulsing as a result of that high flying move.
Mayne: Oh my God, Jon Rich might have just killed himself in an attempt to take out the Dark Man! Although such an attempt would be futile at best.
Douglas: That was one of the damndest things I’ve ever witnessed! This should go to show the lengths that Rich will go to in order to take out Desolation.
Jon rolls over onto his elbows and knees, approaching Desolation who has crawled towards a vacant chair, using it to pull himself to his feet. He can’t get up though as Jon grabs another empty chair, lifting it above his head and preparing to swing it down into the back of Desolation’s skull. That’s when the Dark Man grabs the chair he’s leaning on and twists it, driving it into Jon’s mid-section. Rich is bent forward, dropping the chair as Desolation stands up and forces his way through the crowd, trying to create some distance between himself and the now hurt Jon. Not caring about the fans’ well being, Jon kicks a chair, sending it into the air then marches right after Desolation while gripping his torso, not backing down no matter what. Hurse’s eyes are opened wide and filled with terror as Chapel has dropped to the outside of the ring, slowly approaching him with a twisted grin on his face.
Douglas: Things have suddenly gone from bad to worse for Hurse.
Mayne: Chapel can’t attack a man in a wheelchair! Don’t monsters have a code of ethics?
Dan: Not when you’ve got a man like Chapel about to maul an individual he hates with a passion.
Smirking at Hurse who tries to use his bandaged arms to wheel himself away Chapel approaches, disturbingly amused by the quivering, helpless World Champion. Chapel thinks about all he did to Hurse that night when he was kidnapped in his armored limo, and enjoys the notion of repeating that incident. He leans forward and takes hold of Hurse’s throat, his eyes opening wide with panic beneath the bandages when a steel chair cracks hard over Chapel’s back. The War Angel falls to his knees with the fans screaming in anger over the sight of Hurse standing behind him with a steel chair and a couple of bandages on his face and arms, having materialized from under the ring. Everyone now realizes that the man in the wheelchair was a decoy, a set up to lure Chapel.
Douglas: What? No, Hurse was hiding under the ring this whole time, the man in the bandages wasn’t actually him?
Mayne: I’m pretty sure it was him at the beginning of the night, but he must have switched places with someone, hahahaha, what a brilliant set up.
Chapel continues to grip his back as he forces himself to his feet, staggering around then turning to face a furious, drooling Hurse who swings the chair with such force into his face that it almost cracks his skull. The War Angel is knocked from his feet and sent crashing into the mats back first, completely wiped out by these thunderous chair shots. The World Champion backs away from the number one contender while the man in the wheelchair begins to wheel himself up the ramp in reverse, not revealing his identity.
Douglas: I can’t believe this, who was the man in the wheelchair? Does any of this even make the slightest bit of sense?
Mayne: This was a stroke of genius, an actual stroke of pure brilliance. Chapel has been taken out by a couple of men who deserve academy awards for their performances.
Dan: And in the process they may have just cost Chapel his shot at moving on in this tag team tournament. These maniacal bastards.
Killjoy is still watching on from the rafters, shaking his head in clear disgust over what he’s seeing while in the ring Nathan has dragged himself to his feet with the assistance of the cables. He has just gotten to a standing base when Psycho rushes up behind him, delivering a clubbing blow over his upper back, knocking him down throat first onto the top rope. Psycho takes him around the waist and drags him away from the ropes, lifting him up into the air and dropping him posterior first onto his knee. Creed is launched forward as a result into the ropes while Psycho turns to face Orlando who has just reached his feet, burying his shoulder into his gut and lifting him into the air. He drags Cruze down testicles first right onto his knee, causing Orlando to jump into the air, holding himself. Psycho spins around to face Creed and takes him by the back of the head, spinning him around to face Cruze before charging him shoulder first into his own partner. He forced Nathan to spear Orlando to the ribs and take both men down to the canvas, the Sadistic One surprisingly keeping his team in this match all on his own. Hurse backs up the ramp as the Champion throws down the chair, fuming at the sight of the laid out, now bleeding Chapel. As he marches up the ramp in reverse and passes the still mysterious individual in the wheelchair, his eyes fume with animosity, and remain focused on the down Chapel.
Mayne: Although he’s partnerless, Psycho is surprisingly hanging in there against the Icon and his half brother. Although I’m not sure how much of an actual accomplishment that is.
Douglas: It’s a hell of an accomplishment, and somehow it looks like Psycho and Chapel may still walk out of this match victorious.
A heavy breathing Psycho steps forward as Nathan begins to stand up in front of him, albeit still hunched over. Psycho buries his shoulder to his spine and hoists him into the air before dropping down into a vicious back drop suplex that plants Creed with force against the canvas. He rolls across the canvas while Psycho gets to his feet and spins to face Orlando who has somehow reached a standing base. Psycho steps in and shoots his arm across his chest, hoisting him into the air and then driving him down spine first into the canvas with a sit-out spinebuster. He buries his shoulders to the back of Cruze’s legs.
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No, Nathan dives into the fray at drops elbows into the side of Psycho’s head, breaking up the pinfall attempt. He rolls across the canvas now, forcing himself to his feet when Nathan comes rushing in with a stagger, throwing a lariat. Psycho catches hold of his arm though and pushes it away, causing Creed to turn in a circle as his back is now aimed to the Sadistic One who quickly slaps on a cobra clutch. He’s looking for the Psychotic Episode until Creed counters by ducking his head and performing a standing switch. He gets behind Psycho and wraps his arms around his waist, about to hit the German supex when his brother hooks his leg around his own, blocking the attempt. Nathan breaks up the German attempt and clubs him over the back several times then places his arms around his waist once more. Psycho slaps at his wrists though, causing his hands to break away from his mid-section. He then reaches up in reverse, taking Creed around the head for a stunner to a huge ovation from the crowd. Right as he is about to hit it, Nathan shoves him forward, blocking it and sending Psycho charging into Orlando, who catches him across the chest. He hoists him into the air and plants Psycho with force into the canvas with the Rock Bottom to a huge reaction of cheers from the fans.
Douglas: The Rock Bottom from Cruze, catching Psycho completely unaware as he had all his focus on his brother.
Mayne: I don’t know rather I should be excited or grief ridden, I’ll just behave mildly then.
Everyone packed into the Manhattan Center is screaming as Orlando turns and hooks Psycho’s leg, Chapel unable to get up and come to his partner’s aid as blood oozes down his features from that heinous chair shot.
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There is not one occupied seat in the building, except for those standing on top of their chairs, or those too hefty to stand up. Everyone in the building is on their feet, screaming and cheering for what was a tremendous tag team main event here tonight, one of the hardest fought matches they’ve ever witnessed. Orlando and Nathan now stand in the middle of the ring, leaning on one another for support and giving each other a masculine hug, celebrating their first round victory against their extremely tough opponents. They are drenched in sweat as they take hold of one another’s arms, lifting them into the air while their eyes dart towards the entry way where Christian Savior and Adam Riddick are now standing. Kassie is located between them, with her arm interlocked with her smirking husband’s. Boos come from the crowd at the sight of the two men who will face Creed and Cruze at Breathless.
Douglas: Uh oh, talk about putting a damper on the party because Adam Riddick and Christian Savior are now here, getting an eyeful of their opponents at Breathless. Which we now understand will be part of the next round in the tag team tournament. Hopefully we don’t have a repeat of what happened last week.
Billy: No need for a repeat, I have it recorded on Beta Max, I replayed it that bluegrass bloodbath all week long, even while I was sleeping.
Dan: I shudder to think of you in those footy Transformer pajamas, but I find the prospect of these two teams locking up even more frightening. There’s no telling what they’re going to do to each other when they clash at Breathless.
Nathan and Orlando continue to lean on one another for support while their piercing, rage driven eyes center on Christian and Riddick located on the stage. Savior smirks confidently while lowering his hands, sliding them across his waist, insisting that there will be tag team title gold there once he’s finished with them at the PPV. Riddick doesn’t look frightened by their glare, he just nods his head with an almost condescending expression, but fully aware he’s in for a war at Breathless.
Dan: What a Riot! just a week removed from what should be one of the biggest events in IWC history. Desolation vs. Jon Rich in an N.H.B Championship match, Robin vs. Psycho, the Submission Series, Chapel vs. Hurse for the World title, and Nathan and Orlando vs. Savior and Riddick, what an event Breathless is going to be.
Mayne: Judging by the stare-down between these two teams and the hate brewing deeply within them, we’re going to see a tag team war at Breathless.
The screaming fans can definitely feel the intensity in the air between these two teams as they continue to lock sights on one another, neither team budging, but sending a clear message with just the use of their eyes.
Dan: Wait a minute ladies and gentlemen, we’re getting word that something is going on backstage, the fight between Jon Rich and Desolation is continuing.
Mayne: What? You mean I have to wait longer to take a piss?
MAYHEM IN MANHATTAN
The fans start to scream once again as the camera switches backstage, where Desolation and Jon Rich are still going at it, throwing fists into one another’s head while backing through the parking lot. They seem to be making their way towards one of several limos left in the enclosed parking facility. Desolation throws a knee into Jon’s gut and clubs him hard over the spine, knocking closer to the limo, almost losing his footing in the process. He turns his back towards the limo, almost falling on top of it as he tries his best to keep his feet planted to the pavement, yet he doesn’t have time to gather himself as Desolation comes charging in. Right before he can connect Jon bends forward, catching Desolation against his shoulder and standing up, back dropping Desolation spine first onto the trunk of the limo, causing his spine to crack the rear windshield as well.
Douglas: Ohhh, Desolation back dropped right onto that limo. Will the violence between these two ever end?
Mayne: Jon is just digging his grave, and he’s using a backhoe to do it. He’s made a hole big enough to get buried several times over, and still have room for a few midget clowns.
Dan: Stop rambling, this is chaos in the backstage area. These two just can’t stop going at it. It’s been non stop violence between them for weeks now.
Jon Rich turns towards Desolation who is turning on the trunk of the car, grabbing a piece of glass in the process. As he’s turned to a crawling position on the trunk of the limo, Jon throws a right hand into his forehead. The shot almost removes his bitter rival from his crawling base, somehow he is able to keep himself balanced on one knee while Jon climbs up onto the trunk of the limp as well. He slugs Desolation in the face and takes him by the back of the head and under one as well before stepping forward and throwing the Dark Man into a hip toss that almost sends him crashing into the glass sunroof. His back hits against the hard roof again while he smirks, pleased with Rich’s intensity, and turns to his side. The pain in his body is not enough to keep him down while Rich steps up onto the roof in front of him, throwing closed fists into the face of the man he’s come to despise greater than any other in his life. As he begins to stand up in front of Desolation, his crafty adversary lunges upward and drives the piece glass he picked up earlier, right into Jon’s testicles. Rich roars in agony as the glass shatters to pieces against his groin. He doubles over, palm holding his lower endowments as Desolation gets up in front of him and takes him by the hair. He pulls Jon forward into his shoulder then drapes over his back while wrapping his arm around his neck and jumping into the air. Everyone watching in the building screams as Desolation gives Rich the Brand X (Kryptonite Krunch) right on top of the glass sunroof of the limo. The glass breaks and cracks but fails to shatter under Jon’s motionless body, the pain rushing through every inch of his body leaving him momentarily crippled, and with air in his lungs to express his agony.
Douglas: RIGHT THROUGH THE GLASS!
Mayne: Desolation giving Jon Rich the Brand X almost right through that the glass sunroof of that limo. Will this be enough? Will this be enough to finally send a message to Rich should not be fucking with the Dark Man?
Dan: I’m beginning to think it would be safer for Jon’s help to give this up now.
With barely any emotion behind his eyes or in his face, which trembles with each heavy breath he takes, the Dark Man turns to crawl over Jon and stare down into his unconscious features. Desolation takes hold of his chin, twisting his eyes to stare upwards into his.
Desolation: Are you through yet? Are you going to give up that easily? If you can drag that twisted heap of flesh you call a body to that ring at Breathless, you better be prepared for a whole lot more.
Desolation grabs Rich’s bangs and lifts up on his head before swallowing his face with his palm, he then pushes him down into the hard limo roof across the back of his head. Saliva seeps from the corners of Desolation’s mouth and tumble onto Rich’s face while he continues to glare down at Jon with almost blank eyes.
Douglas: Who knows what condition Rich’s body is going to be in at Breathless, especially after taking all of this brutality. A crate to the ribs last week, and now a Brand X through a limo sunroof tonight, when is this violence going to end?
Mayne: I almost shudder to think of what’s going to happen when these two finally get in the ring and fight for that N.H.B Championship. After all that has transpired between these two over the past couple of months, I can just imagine the hell they’re going to put each other through at Breathless. If Jon is out of the hospital by then.
The Dark Man’s twisted eyes close as he shakes his head and slithers off the top of the limo, sliding away from his laid out opponent. The camera slowly zooms in on Rich’s face, his eyes fluttering as they try to open.
FADE TO BLACK
IWC BREATHLESS