Introduction
It's the end of 2011 folks, that can only mean one thing.A ten second countdown to which you realise your life is just as shitty as it was ten seconds ago.A ten second countdown till your lifes expiration draws another year closer.A ten second countdown that tells you no matter how hard you try, ACW will always be the victor.A ten second countdown without SilverHAWK.A ten second countdown that draws closer the end of ACW as we all know it.A ten second countdown... to fuck knows.
ACW.COM PROUDLY PRESENTS
S01 E04
Recorded LIVE! From the Entertainment Center, Adelaide, Australia
The Players v Health Fanatics
After watching their early-morning workout, we saw Somner and Matthews pumped and ready inside the squared circle with Naysmith patiently, which makes a change, folding his arms in preparation for the arrival of ‘The Jock’ Paul Sanders and Kid Chameleon… Eight cheerleaders came out to the collective sound of wolf-whistles and stood in two lines of four. Sexy Boy by Air. Over the iconic theme, the cheerleaders chanted: “He’s fit, he’s tall, and he’s great….He’s PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUL.” Wow. Wonderful poetry, don’t you think? It was to see them jiggle their pom-poms. Just as they were really getting into the swing of things, Sanders came out and commanded their attention immediately, the girls flocking towards him and indulging in a group hug. 2 girls kissed him on either cheek while another couple gave him a huge hug. One, a tall blonde, lipped locks and swapped saliva momentarily and by the end of it, Paul looked like this (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sgGH3Cr40j0) Paul waited, surrounded by the bevy of beauties, until Mr. Bungle’s guitar started, playing the Super Mario Brothers theme. Out he came… Kid Chameleon. His head was down; too busy with a Nintendo DS in his hands, worried about completing whatever game he was playing. Even after he approached Paul, he needed prompting that they had a match. He popped it in his pocket and the two best friends exchanged high-fives, shouting: “GAME OVER!” The Jock and The World’s Greatest Gamer, The Players, had traded victories with Health Fanatics in Perth. Who would prove to be superior here tonight in Adelaide? One thing was for certain: When Alex the Kid handed his DS to the referee and Paul scaled the turnbuckles, there was no question of who the fan favourites were here. Chameleon removed his shades and jacket; he must’ve been serious, telling the official to take good care of everything. He then slapped hands with Sanders and they had a game of Rock-paper-Scissors to decide who’s start things off on their side and Kid’s paper wrapped up Paul’s rock. Excuse me? Greg Matthews gave Damon Somner a neck-massage, yelling encouragement at The Engine and then patted him on the shoulders for good luck. The teams’ two smaller athletes were kicking us off here. Somner and Chameleon circled each other momentarily before negotiating a tie-up. Damon got the upper hand, kneeing Kid in the abdomen and snatching a hand, only to convert it into a hammerlock. He marched Chameleon up against the ropes like a criminal and tried to push Alex over the top rope, but the official intervened and called for a clean break, which was surprisingly obeyed. Chameleon signalled for a repeat and Damon indulged him. Kid got the better of Somner on this occasion, slapping on a side headlock. He wasn’t done there and administered a brief wrestling lesson, taking Damon over with a snap mare and then scoring with a soccer kick to the back that hurt and annoyed Somner. Clearly irate, Damon stood up and got in Kid’s face. Chameleon was calm. The Engine ordered The Mayor or Mushroom Kingdom to go the ropes and Alex played along, rebounding off them as Somner dropped down, permitting Chameleon to pass and come off the opposite set… Damon knew what he was doing here. He utilished his pace effectively, slamming the brakes on with a drop toehold. He then span around and secured a front chancery. Just as Damon was about to bring Kid into dangerous territory, the Health Fanatics’ corner, Lara’s Boyfriend escaped in the nick of time and shook his head, telling Damon he was too smart for that. Somner smiled and still tagged Matthews in anyway. Greg expected Kid to tie-up with him, though Kid shot in and clasped the big man’s hips with a waistlock. All systems were go… AXEL SUPLEX! Except Greg held on and gave Kid two elbow smashes for his audacity and then turned the tables with a deadlift German Suplex of his own! The resulting bridge got Greg a 2-count. He picked Chameleon up and then hoyed him hurtling towards the corner with considerable velocity. However, he telegraphed the corner splash he wanted to make all over Kid’s chest, Sega’s Ambassador avoiding contact. Chameleon waited for Matthews to turn around, fooling him with a feint of the left boot that Greg blocked but expertly knocking his equilibrium for sixty-six with the right boot, otherwise known as the double high kick! This enabled Kid to register a 2-count of his own. While Matthews was still trying to get his brain back into gear, The Vice-President of Vice City decided to call Rip City’s Chief into play, Paul substituting his partner and coming face-to-face with his fellow powerhouse. Matthews rubbed his hands. Paul got his legs warmed up instead, running towards The Powerhouse with purpose, ducking underneath Greg’s predicted lariat. The Jock also anticipated a big boot from Matthews as he stopped sprinting, caught Matthews’ leg, much to the chagrin of Health Fanatics everywhere. Paul Sanders, who maintained his grip on Greg’s spin and then sent him to canvas with chilling authority, shifting the 270-pound bruiser with a bitter-tasting clothesline. A few seconds later, Matthews stirred and then stupidly ran into a hiptoss. The Seattle native was back on his feet soon after, though not for long as the Prince of P-Town delighted the Australian audience with a delicious dropkick, beating Greg to the punch at will and he was ready to do it again when Naysmith used his whistle to signal a time-out causing Greg to roll out underneath the bottom rope as opposed to eating a second dropkick that Paul was poised to deliver. Naysmith asked Damon to join them and got his two charges in a 3-way huddle. They nodded as the expert trainer told them what he expected. When they parted, the whistle was going mental, driving the natives to the brink of a breakdown, and Greg re-entered the ring. Paul pointed to his wrist, implying they’d been time-wasting. As a result, Matthews attempted a wild swing and it seemed he’d learned nothing from the talking-to he’d received, Sanders ducking it and then punishing the mishap with an almighty atomic drop that had Greg grabbing his ‘culo.’ Then, out of nowhere… TRAILBLAZER! Naysmith’s whistle was enough to warn Matthews it was coming and he side-stepped Sanders, who was in mid-flight, meaning it was Paul’s turn to nurse his backside, which connected with the mat. However, he had more to worry about than his ass… He’d pulled something and I’m not talking about one of the cheerleaders. No, he was rolling around on the canvas in a world of discomfort. This was Somner’s territory. He demanded to be tagged and Matthews, who’d started very slowly in The Players/Health Fanatics Part III, obliged. Damon scampered across the ring like a whippet at the racetrack. Damon took the liberty of making a wish on Paul’s behalf, stretching the delicate pin in ways it shouldn’t at the best of times, let alone when you think you’ve just incurred an injury. Somner had a fire, a buzz, an objective due to the fact that Sanders had scored a pinfall at his expensive in the teams’ previous meeting and it stuck in Damon’s crow, who was a vociferous and proud professional, who didn’t take losing lightly. The Engine was running on full and he dragged Paul towards his corner and delivered three elbows to the inside of the leg, each one harder than the preceding effort. Paul tried to get a hand up to pull Somner’s hair, not that he had much to aim for, but those chances dwindled drastically when Damon viciously raked the eyes, ignoring the referee’s reprimand, channelling his aggression towards The Jock by jumping down on the football player’s weakened pin. He wasn’t done, applying a step-over toehold to twist the leg further and add a world of woe on top of the pain Paul was already enduring. After torturing the International Playboy for ten seconds longer, those seconds were about to become minutes as he transitioned into a figure-four leglock. Fans didn’t like Damon, he was a spiky character, but he was a clever wrestler and what he does inside the ring is smooth. Just ask Sanders, oh wait you can’t because he’s screaming his head off in pain at this juncture. To be honest, he was doing it even more when Damon abused the official’s poor position. You see, the ref counted Paul’s shoulders down several times, accumulating various near-falls until Sanders would shoot an arm into the air. However, Somner was, oblivious to the official though clear for everyone else in the arena, using Greg’s arms for leverage, placing greater stress on Sander’s lower echelons. Every time the referee turned around, Somner stopped and Greg would walk back and forth across the apron. Eventually, Kid Chameleon became so agitated with the umpire’s sheer incompetence and rushed into the ring to aid his fallen friend, but the referee cut him off and prevented him from doing so, allowing Somner to use The Powerhouse to full effect. Chameleon was almost incredulous at one point, urging the authority figure to do his job. When he was about to, Somner had mysteriously got up and tagged Matthews in, the official accepting it with no problems. Matthews, widely-regarded as the team’s muscle, thought he’d carry on where Damon left on with a figure 4 but Sanders converted it into an inside cradle… 1 2 Almost!
For his cheek, Greg stamped on his leg twice and then kicked him in the head for good measure.
Matthews talked smack to Sanders as he helped him up, though not like carers do with their patients, and it his turn to hold Paul’s pin up and he taunted the 2nd generation star by putting on a limp and then, with interest, he smashed Sanders with a hellacious clothesline… And, he hooked the leg. Yes, the bad one… 1 2 Kickout. The Powerhouse had played to his strengths for arguably the first time in the tie and then tagged The Engine back in, the technician of the team, who came in and applied a heel hook, teasing and twisting it occasionally, causing the crowd to start a round of applause and attempt to aid The Viking in his comeback quest. It wasn’t looking rosy for him or Kid Chameleon. Speaking of Chameleon, Naysmith was over in The Players’ corner whistling near Kid, who was trying to ignore his senseless goading and the fans over at that side weren’t happy with Jim’s antics. Kid was happy to keep his eye on Paul inside the squared circle but Naysmith wouldn’t shut up nor would he go away. Perhaps egged on by the Aussies, Alex suddenly stood down off the apron, which is the moment Naysmith started to back off and apologise for his behaviour. Chameleon was nodding along, correctly insinuating Naysmith would be now that The Saint of San Andreas was going to do something about. Naysmith started sprinting back towards his corner while Alex was beginning a brisk walk… SMASH! Straight into a Matthews clothesline! It had been a trap. The referee finally spots it, seconds too late, as he’s overlooking The Engine’s endless heel hook and Paul’s fruitless effort to overturn it. By the time the official is aware of what’s going on out on the floor, The Powerhouse had just dumped X-Box’s X-Factor on the ringside padding like a Neapolitan gets rid of his rubbish, courtesy of a thrust spinebuster. Ouch! Meanwhile, Sanders has summoned the strength from somewhere to kick back, literally, fending Damon off with a barrage of boots, using his free leg. Finally, he’s able to cause separation with a punt to the abs. Somner falls back for a few moments. In that time, Paul courageously climbs to one knee, not that he’s got anyone to tag… Aw, it doesn’t matter. Dropkick to the knee by Damon. Paul’s fucked here, isn’t he? Naysmith was standing over Kid, repeatedly whistle-blowing, probably gloating at the fact that his trap had lured Lara’s Boyfriend in and how his Princess had proven to be in another castle when King Koopa, AKA Greg Matthews, had blown him away. Matthews was now back on the apron and ready to make Sanders suffer more, holding his hand out for Somner to slap. This time, Matthew’s submission choice was wise, slapping on a Half Boston Crab. Sanders was in serious danger here and even if he managed to escape this and get a second wind, Chameleon was nowhere to be seen or found, particularly when Damon started to stick the boots to him. Out of the official’s eye, he could see Somner sting Sega’s Ambassador with a crunching, swinging neckbreaker. This prompted the official to come outside to try and get a handle on it, warning Somner that if he or Matthews touched Chameleon again they’d automatically be disqualified. Damon protested his innocence. Just moments ago, Jim had provided a distraction and now he was benefiting from the referee’s ear-bashing, directed at Damon, as he slid a dumbbell into the squared circle. Greg saw it immediately, which is when Damon started arguing with the official again, claiming to be the victim of unfair play. How ironic, eh? In amongst all of this, Sanders was in a press-up position, no HF jokes please, pushing himself to get up off the floor… WHACK! That was the sound of Matthews striking Sanders’ skull with the dumbbell. Paul went down like a demolished building and that added injury to injury (yes, you read that right – The Rip City Chief was suffering here – first, the leg and now the head.) Predictably, Somner stopped arguing with the referee and then jumped onto the apron. When he rejoined us, Matthews tagged Damon in with a wide smile on his face. The cardiovascular freak sped into the ring and replicated what Greg had done, laying it on with a Boston Crab, but as everyone knew, except the official of course, Sanders was unconscious. Damon told the authority figure to ask Sanders if he wanted to submit. Unsurprisingly, there was no response and it dawned on the referee that The Prince of P-Town may’ve passed out, though if he’d known why, this match may have been completely different. Instead, agonisingly for Kid on the outside who was coming around again, the referee raised Sanders’ arm one, twice, thrice… And it dropped on every occasion. Ding, ding, ding! Chameleon had his hands on the apron just in time to see Sanders’ right arm fall for the third and final time. Naysmith, the wind-up merchant, blew the whistle right in his ear and jumped up and down on the spot. He joined the celebratory party inside the ring just moments later as Matthews and Somner exchanged a hug. Naysmith brought them together and raised their arms again, causing the Aussie audience to voice their disapproval. Health Fanatics had won 2 out of 3, which wasn’t bad. It was just the manner in which they’d sealed it. That aside, they’d outthought and outfought The Players in Adelaide. Naysmith had revived his team’s fortunes and got the best out of his boys, that was undeniable. Could Chameleon and Sanders do the same pick each other up in time for the fourth leg in Brisbane?
WINNER: Health Fanatics
I'm Not A Threat?
Hank Wright had a lot on his mind nowadays as he walked through the hallway backstage. The issue with Keith Scott Zimmerman was not going to end any time soon and with him seeking down the Scorpion Champion, his mind was pretty occupied with that. So when he rounded the corner and bumped into a masked man, he was a little surprised. For the man that bumped into The Hurricane? ACW's Masked Marvel himself, the dude. In a mask. Henceforth known as... well... Dude In Mask. Wright excused himself and held up his hands defensively as he looked down at the masked man standing before him. “Sorry 'bout that,” Wright spoke out. “A little busy, decided to take a stroll backstage.” Dude In Mask shrugged. Hank patted him on the shoulder and continued to walk past him, but Dude In Mask cleared his throat. It was obvious that something was on the mind of the masked man. “Wright?” “Yeah?” Wright turned and raised an eyebrow at the Dudester. Dude In Mask... well, he wasn't any good at this kind of thing. Especially since everything he said tended to be put into the form of a question. He rubbed a nervous hand on the back of his neck and shrugged. “You said I was no threat to Keith Scott Zimmerman?” “Pardon?” Hank recalled he had said something to that effect previously when attempting to confront KSZ beforehand, to no avail. Dude In Mask shrug. “What did you mean?” The Tank shook his head and tried to elaborate. “Look, son, you got the wrong idea. When I said that... I meant that what he did... in that boy's state of mind right now... not a lot of people are going to match up to that. You saw what he almost did to you a few weeks ago, kid. He almost did to you what he did to that Lutawicka guy...” DIM gulped, holding a careful hand around his throat. He hadn't forgotten. And ever since he lost his ACW Gateway Championship on a non-televised show, people had noted that the Dude In Mask had been in something of a slump. He shook his head. “Didn't mean to offend. But I'm glad you're all right. Take it easy, alright?” Hank was prepared to turn on his heel and leave, but Dude In Mask stopped him. He grabbed Hank by the arm. Not liking this, Hank Wright turned around and stared right into the eyes of the Dudester, but ACW's Masked Marvel wasn't backing down despite giving up almost fifty pounds to the Tank. “You and me... match tonight?” “Huh?” Wright was a little confused by what Dude In Mask was asking of him. “Did you hear me?” Dude In Mask asked. “Have you heard Tyson XL say I was pushover? How I got embarrassed by Omega? Have you heard I need to prove myself to you and to the fans? Match? Yes or no?” Hank shook his head. Clearly, Dude In Mask felt that he had something to prove. And given that Hank Wright was not a man who was known for backing down from any kind of a fight, continued to look him dead in the eye. “Okay. I won't underestimate you and out of respect, I'll see you in the ring shortly.” Dude In Mask nodded and Hank Wright disappeared in the other direction, offering up a polite nod as he did so.
Carrachio Salfuego vs. Davey La Rue
It had been a very tough pair of grueling weeks for the man known as Carrachio Salfuego. Two weeks ago he had put up a very spirited fight against the man formerly known as John C. Willis, now operating under the name of Bull as a member of the Beasts of Prey. One week ago, he had suffered a very brutal defeat to the man known as “The Unit” Jack Harris. Despite his abilities in the ring, the last couple of weeks had been kind of a catch 22 for the Fiery Underdog. But he was looking to get back to his winning ways and he could do so tonight against his opponent, who would also be making his ACW debut. “The following contest is scheduled for one fall... first, making his way to the ring from Madrid, Spain, weighing in at 205 pounds... CARRACHIO SALFUEGO!” “Shadows” by Breed 77. It appeared somebody was getting himself a change in music! And as the opening riffs to the song played over the speakers, out came 205 pounds of HOT FIYA himself. The Fiery Underdog, as he was called by the fanbase. He did a forward roll and when his feet hit the entrance, a HUGE explosion of red fire blasted from the entryway. Possessing incredible speed and great aerial maneuvers, the quick and flashy Carrachio Salfuego looked to be in decent spirits despite not actually knowing who he was facing. The permagrin never left the youngster's face as he approached the ring and slid under the ropes before nipping up to his feet! Impressive, youngster. Most impressive. The lights quickly went out in the arena and the lights flashed. Reds, blues, greens, yellows, even some violets shined every which way. “Sexy And I Know It” by LMFAO. The fans – not to mention Salfuego himself – weren’t too sure what to make of the theme. Or the man coming out from the back, downing a swig of Petron before running down the ringside area. Wearing sky blue tights and a black shirt that barely covered his paunch; the big man ran a couple laps around the ring, trying to high-five whoever he could. Not many people actually did, but the big man stopped in front of the turnbuckles and danced a little bit to the music. “And his opponent… from Baton Rouge, Lousiana… weighing in at 312 pounds… “FAT TUESDAY” DAVEY LA RUE!” La Rue slapped hands with another one of the fans before he walked into the ring and actually shook Carrachio’s hand. Carrachio wasn’t sure what to make of this big man as he lumbered around the ring before he was handed a microphone. “HELLO, ENTERTAINMENT CENTER! HOW Y’ALL DOING IN AUSTRIA TONIGHT?! PARTY CENTRAL, RIGHT!” The crowd booed this rotund man as Carrachio shook his head. He tapped Davey La Rue on the shoulder. “Uh… we’re in Australia. Austria’s a wee bit up north, my friend.” “SHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Davye La Rue turned around and shushed Salfuego. “DON’T MATTER WHERE WE’RE AT BECAUSE THE PARTY GOES WHEREVER I GO, YA DIG?” He then finally turned around to greet Salfuego. “Now, little man, before we turn out the lights, blow the roof off, let these fine ladies take a gander at what a REAL wrestler’s body looks like…” he ran a hand across his body. Projective vomiting may have been heard. “…and I celebrate my debut victory, I got a question for ya… you ready to turn this mother out?!” “Hey, leave my mother out of this. She’s a good Christian wom…” He didn’t see the fist coming and got rocked, courtesy of Davey La Rue!
“THEM’S FIGHTING WORDS!” DING DING DING! La Rue threw down the microphone and wasted no time pounding away at Carrachio Salfuego as he was beat down in the middle of the ring. Davey picked up the Fiery Underdog and bombarded him with a couple of elbows aimed at the back of his skull before he tossed him into the corner. While Salfeugo was recovering from the assault in the corner, Davey went down to the ringside floor and slapped hands with a fan before giving him one of those stupid awkward bro hugs. “We got this, partner!” Davey laughed before he went back into the ring. Big mistake even misjudging Carrachio Salfuego for even one second as he BLASTED La Rue in the back of the head with a very well-done Enzuigiri! Davey La Rue didn’t go down, but he was certainly knocked a little bit loopy from Salfuego’s assault. He ducked underneath a wild swing from La Rue and came back with a Tilt-A-Whirl Headscissors that sent the big man flying across the ring! The Fiery Underdog was back on his feet, waiting for the stumbling La Rue to get back up. He got taken down with a very perfect Dropkick right to the head that sent him staggering backwards against the ropes. Salfeugo was back on his feet and yelled to the crowd before he got himself some speed off the ropes and connected with a second Dropkick that sent La Rue sailing through the ropes and out to the floor in front of the ring! “Wuh…?” La Rue was a little bit discombobulated as he found himself on the outside, not sure of where he was exactly. Chalk that up to excessive partying or the fact that Carrachio Salfuego was one of ACW’s best high flyers, but the youngster CLEARED the ropes with the greatest of ease… NO-HANDS SOMERSAULT DIVE TO THE OUTSIDE! The speed and execution of that beautiful maneuver allowed for The Fiery Underdog to turn the tables. Learning a thing or two from his fight with other big men the last couple of weeks. The Fiery Underdog was back to his feet and even dapped fists with a couple of drunken wrestling fans having themselves a grand old time. The man nicknamed Fat Tuesday was helped to his feet by Salfuego and he was quickly rolled back inside the ring. Once he got there, Salfuego slingshotted himself back into the ring with a Corkscrew Splash! The fans were wowed by his athleticism as he went for the first cover of the match. ONE! TWO… NO! Barely a two count on Fat Tuesday. Carrachio got back to his feet and waited for Davey La Rue to do the same. He waited for the big man to get up and when he finally did, he ran off the ropes and went for another big high-risk move… CAUGHT… REVERSE POWERBOMB INTO THE TURNBUCKLE! He was caught in mid-move and dumped backwards, face-first on the top turnbuckle, making Salfuego go SPLAT. Salfuego was on the ground now while Davey La Rue looked to finally take control away from the fiery young luchador. He picked up Carrachio and dumped him on the ground near the turnbuckles, then jumped to the second rope and came back down with a Vader Bomb-style splash! The big man went for his first attempt at a cover, looking to win in his ACW debut! ONE! TWO! …NO! And Vader he was not, but he still outweighed Salfuego by a shade over a hundred pounds, so he had the power on his side. The 6’2” Louisiana native ran across the ropes, signaled for somebody to toss him another beer, then jumped in the air and brought down a big leg across the throat of Salfuego. Nobody threw that beer, thank the lord, but Salfuego was in a pretty bad position right here and now. After he was done being a jackass inside the ring, he… quickly turned into a douche instead as he paintbrushed Salfuego in the back of the head as he tried to get up. Salfuego defended himself by blocking one and firing back with a nice Forearm Smash, but it only stunned La Rue for a second as he fired back a right hand of his own, bringing Salfuego back down. Once Salfuego was stunned, he picked up the Fiery Underdog again and picked him up, this time going for some kind of a Back Suplex. We’d never know what maneuver the big guy was trying for because Carrachio Salfuego rolled up and over La Rue’s shoulders, landing on his feet behind him. Salfuego was still a little bit groggy, so it was understandable that he stumbled backwards into the ropes. Davey La Rue turned around and charged right at the Fiery Underdog, but some quick thinking allowed for him to slink between the ropes and come back with a Slingshot-style kick in between the ropes, catching La Rue in the face! It appeared that Salfuego had a couple new tricks in his arsenal that he was ready and willing to use. He ran right at La Rue and tried taking him down with a Crucifix pin, but La Rue was too big to get all of that mass over, so he rolled around and then tried turning it over into a Sunset Flip. La Rue was still too strong and threw a punch… HITTING NOTHING BUT CANVAS! La Rue hurt his own hand and cradled it to his chest in pain, but Carrachio Salfuego quickly bounced off the ropes and hit another Dropkick, sending the big man staggering into the ropes. Seeing an opportunity to do some more damage and perhaps win the match, The Fiery Underdog got himself some speed off the ropes to try for another one of his big maneuvers… OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! But he got turned inside out, courtesy of a surprise Lariat from the left side! Salfuego got spun around and hit the mat complete with a spin prior to the impact! Davey La Rue did a fist pump, proud of the move that he dubbed the Party Boy Lariat! He turned Salfuego around and went for another quick cover. ONE! TWO! THR… NO! Perhaps if he’d actually bothered to hook a leg, Davey La Rue might very well have won. But instead, La Rue was left to try and think of another way to deal with the Fiery Underdog. He kicked him in the chest and set him up for a Powerbomb-style maneuver, hoisting him up over the shoulders. La Rue kicked free from whatever he had planned and slipped back to his feet again. La Rue turned around pushed Salfuego backwards into the corners. He charged forward, but a quick kick to the leg took the speed out from underneath La Rue and sent him crashing hard into the second turnbuckles. Salfuego saw his chance and grabbed La Rue by the head, looking for his Tornado DDT that he called Espiritu De Madrid… NO! La Rue threw him off, but Salfuego landed on his feet. He charged at the luchador again, but this time was also in vein as he hit the turnbuckles with another dull thud. Salfuego then grabbed him by the head… ESPIRITU DE MADRID! HE GOT ALL OF IT! The Tornado DDT put the man down on the ground, but it appeared that Salfuego still wasn’t done. While La Rue was out in the middle of the ring, The Fiery Underdog positioned himself on the ring apron and looked out to the cheering crowd, wondering what was happening next. He springboarded off the ropes and connected with a B-E-A-UTIFUL Springboard Senton Bomb! But that wasn’t all! He continued to roll through the momentum and ran to the second rope, flying backwards with a PICTURE-PERFECT Springboard Moonsault! After he had hit the maneuver, Salfuego hooked the big man’s far leg. The debut of the Falling Star! ESTRELLA FUGAZ! ONE! TWO! THREE! And he did it! The Fiery Underdog pulled it out against a tough opponent and managed to snag himself the victory! “HERE IS YOUR WINNER OF THE MATCH… CARRACHIO SALFUEGO!” A big win here tonight for the young upstart. He’d been with ACW for quite some time, so it was good for him to get back on the winning track with a victory over a very goofy, but overall game Davey La Rue. He had his hands raised by the referee, smiling from ear to ear. And just because it felt great, he ran up the turnbuckles, then rolled back into the ring in one fluid motion, popping back to his feet, showing off for the crowd! Meanwhile, Davey La Rue was down and out in the middle of the ring, wondering why he’d partied so hard instead of just prepping for the match.
WINNER: Carrachio Salfuego via pinfall
Wake-Up Call
The watch read 6am. Then, we saw the middle-aged man with the whistle: Jim Naysmith. In the distance, Greg Matthews and Damon Somner, otherwise known as the Health Fanatics, were completing a 400-metre race that Somner won comfortably, not that The Powerhouse was a slouch and did pretty well for a 270-pound strongman. Damon breezed in and was thrown a towel by Naysmith, who patted his charge on the shoulder. Matthews found it a little bit harder, coming in out of breath, and was thrown a bottle of water. “Good work, Greg. Getting faster and fitter,” Jim enthused. As viewers saw the speedy Somner complete a picture-perfect 110m hurdles, Naysmith could be heard gushing over the aptly-named ‘Engine.’ “That’s right, Damon. You can run and wrestle circles around these chumps.” If Somner had given a masterclass in athletics, it was matched by Matthews, who had bench-pressed 450lbs in the gym and looked like he could still add on more. Both Damon and Jim shook hands with the dedicated weightlifter as he took a break from his workout. “They’re better than The Players and they know it. They seem like confident young men but they don’t always realize their full potential. That’s why I’m here. I try to get the best out of them and push them to the limit each and every time they step into the ring. The Players were lucky last week but that’s not the attitude we have: We work harder, train harder and get even by getting better. The Players may play hard but they don’t work hard. Damon and Greg do and you’re gonna see that in Adelaide.”
Pep Talk?
Getting his mind ready, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes before pulling open his locker room door. But nothing could have prepared him for when he pulled open his door and stepped forward into a wall of flesh. His head impacting the chest of his partner in crime for the night. Two beaming blue eyes peered down at him through a pair of trademark shades."Andy", spoke the towering seven foot three colossus as he looked down at Sharp. "You and I, we never really saw eye to eye. Nor were we ever really given a chance for confirmation. But you chose your sides and I chose mine. I don't know your real reason for siding with the Cabal and Z all this time, but it is a choice you made that is going to haunt you here for some time." He grinned and patted his hand across Andy's shoulder. "But you know, your worst moment's memory last only as long as your next worse moment or great deed is accomplished. Your a talented kid and I have no doubt that you are a future shining star here in All-Star." Andy nodded and shook his head the same, "Thanks... Spike." "We all make mistakes. Some dumb ones, some profoundly stupid ones. I came to ACW with goals in mind, reached the first but realized that the second goal was never truly needed. I've done the dumb stuff in the past, maybe not in ACW but I have had my share. Hell I aligned myself with a devil of a man in the WR in order to get the World Title over there. I've done the stupid stuff as well such as donning a masked gimmick and even dropping my name as some cousin I never truly had. Mind you the later wasn't my choice but rather a gimmick assigned to me in WWa, but that doesn't change the facts here." Andy response here: The giant could tell his head wasn't quite in the game. "Listen, our opponents tonight are not two guys you can just ignore. The Amazing Gabriel is a very talented individual even if he does cause ears to bleed night in and night out. And Harris. I'm not sure yet just what he is capable of. For all I know we could just be facing TAG alone tonight if last week's duckin' out by Harris runnin' away scared is any indication. Either way, leave Harris to me if it comes down to it." Andy replies here: "Just keep your head held high and go out there and show everybody what you are capable of. That is all anybody can really ask for, is it not? Heh. I'll see you out there, kid." Saunders stepped back and headed down the corridor leaving Sharp to his lonesome for the moment. Shortly the two would be pairing up to take on the formidable duo of TAG and Harris. Sharp needed to listen to Harris, though. More of his head in the game.
Big E. Smalls vs. The SOBs
GROUND CONTROL, WE HAVE LIFT-OFF IN FIVE...FOUR... THREE... TWO... ONE... Y'ALL DON'T REALLY WANT IT NOW!” “Here Comes The Boom” by Nelly. And the fans went CRAZY WACKY WILD for the next tag team match-up. A bonus match-up as it were. And our good friend Tommy Vale was going to welcome the crowd to their next match-up. “The following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall! First, making their way to the ring, accompanied by Lettie Rios... from New York City, USA, weighing in at a combined weight of 471 pounds... the team of Mach 2 and Big E. Stark... BIGGGGGGGGG EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE SMMMMMMMMMMMAAAALLLLLLLLSSSS!” The fans gave a big, rousing ovation to the crew that had been around ACW for quite some time now and turned a lot of heads with their combination of Big E. Stark's grit, Mach 2's aerial prowess and of course... the bomb as fuck and fine as hell Lettie Rios as she danced a little saucy dance on the way to the ring. She gave Mach 2 a quick kiss on the lips as he rolled into the ring. Big E. Stark crawled right behind him, actually LEAPING over the ropes and landing inside the ring. It appeared he'd been working on his craft a little bit and added some hops to that big frame of his. They waited for their opponents. “Jump Around” by House of Pain. The lights went out in the Burswood Dome, as green and gold spotlights shined over the entryway. A powerful trumpeting fanfare echoed throughout the building, as a slow-moving remix of “Jump Around” by House of Pain began to sound off of the public announce system in the arena. The fans jeered as lights shined through the entryway, crafting the silhouettes of two individuals as they walk through the curtains and into the spotlights. The SOBs had arrived. Sheamus led the charge, paying no attention to anything but the ring ahead while Selby played to the crowd, slapping the hands of anybody that would still slap back. In these days it was almost nobody. But Sheamus and Selby were wanting to avenge a heated loss they'd taken and if they could knock off one of the two #1 contenders to the ACW Tag Team Titles, then they could certainly make a case to do so. Mach 2 and Big E. Stark had many run-ins with the twins before and they were no strangers to one another. In fact, the SOBs handed them their first loss as a team when Big E. Stark debuted last year. But that was then and this is now. And we had a match, so sayeth referee Tomaz Heinreich. DING DING DING! The fast and furious Supersonic Kid called Mach 2 was about to start it off with Selby O'Brien as the bell rang. He actually held out a hand for Mach 2 to shake, which he did return, albeit cautiously. Sheamus just watched and said nothing while the two men locked up. Tmach 2 went low and locked in a Hammerlock, trying to throw Selby off his game. But Selby turned him around and wrapped him up in a Headlock. Mach 2 shoved him to the ropes and ducked while Selby continued to run. He got back up and Mach 2 leapfrogged over him, then when he came back, he caught him with a quick headscissors! Mach 2 sprung back to his feet and waited for Selby to do so as well before he peppered him across the chest with a few nasty Shoot Kicks to the chest and ended the combination with a hard Spin Kick to the head that knocked him over. Mach 2 ducked underneath and went for the cover. ONE! TWO! NO! Selby escaped defeat and kicked out right after two. He picked Selby up off the mat and kicked him in the knee before pushing him back to the ropes. He whipped Selby across the ring, but didn't see the blind tag from Sheamus. Selby reversed and shot him over to the ropes as Mach 2 springboarded off the second rope and attempted to come back with a crossbody. I say “attempted” because the second he did so, he was caught by both twins and spun around into an ASSISTED Spinning Side Slam! Selby left the ring as Sheamus went in for the kill and the cover. ONE! TWO! TH... KICK OUT! Mach 2 kicked out and Sheamus went to work quickly. The urgency could be sensed as he dropped a couple of hard elbows into the top of Mach 2's head before letting him have it with a couple of harsh European Uppercuts. He hit him with a second one, then finally a third one before he got knocked back down to the ground. Another cover followed. ONE! TWO! THR.. NO! While Big E. Stark was cheering on his tag team partner, it appeared the SOBs were looking a little more game than usual tonight as Sheamus pulled Mach 2 up in a headlock. He tagged in Selby and the two brothers went to work again as Sheamus hit him with a Backbreaker and held him in place. Selby climbed to the top rope and came down, CRASHING a big-time Forearm Smash to the exposed ribs. Sheamus left the ring while Selby got back up and watched as Mach 2 crawled around in a daze now, trying to get his bearings. Selby O'Brien took Mach 2 and lifted him up before connecting with a couple of solid uppercuts of his own before whipping him into the SOBs corner. He tagged in Sheamus yet again and the twins went to work. It was Sheamus that hit a Drop Toe Hold to bring him to the center of the ring. Selby ran off the ropes and connecfed with a leaping Dropkick to the side of his head, then Sheamus ran off the ropes and connected with a leaping Senton Back Splash! He stayed on after the quick double-team sequence of moves! ONE! TWO! THR... KICK OUT! Mach 2 was way tougher than that and Sheamus and Selby were both flabbergasted they hadn't put him away. They weren't wasting any time in this match as they knew the longer it went, the more favorable it would be to Big E. Smalls. Lettie was slapping her hands on the apron and getting the fans behind Mach 2 as Sheamus slapped on a high and tight headlock to keep the high flyer grounded. The camera cut backstage where the members of the Night Life... Fever Pitch, Aleczander, Kaus, Zip Zap, and Elixr... all five were watching intently and dressed for combat as they were ready for their match later tonight. They were studying up on things as the two men made their way back to the ring. The Speed Demon started to crawl and tried to escape the submission attempt quickly, but it wasn't working out to his benefit. “Do you give up?” Tomaz asked him. “No way!” “Yes, the fooker does! He tapped!” Sheamus yelled right at the referee to make Mach 2 submit, but he wasn't going to give in so easily. Mach 2 sprung back to his feet and got back up. Sheamus then kicked him in the gut before he could get anywhere else and lifted him up for a suplex... SPLAT! Mach 2 was dropped on the mat with a modified Front Suplex Slam. He turned Mach 2 around and went for antoher aggressive cover. ONE! TWO! THR... NO! Mach 2 kicked out again and Sheamus was now irate. He grabbed Mach 2 by his hair and whipped him to the ropes, but he slid underneath his feet. Sheamus turned around and went for a low kick, but it was blocked. CRACK! And Mach 2 caught him in the temple with a VICIOUS Spinning Thrust Kick that sent Sheamus slumping to the ground. Both Sheamus and Mach 2 were down and crawling for their respective corners as he reached out. Big E. Stark waited and waited for his partner while Sheamus recovered enough to try and keep Mach 2 from getting over. He was close... CHEAP SHOT BY SHEAMUS! Sheamus caught Big E. Stark in the jaw and picked up Mach 2, still smarting from the kick from earlier. He kicked Mach 2 in the gut and hit him with a couple of hard clubbing forearm shots to the back of the head, but Mach returned fire with a few kicks to the legs. He struck him in the knee with an especially stiff shot and doubled him over so Mach 2 could run the ropes... HURRICANRANA DRIVER! Mach 2 hit a modified headscissors that drove Sheamus on the top of his head to the canvas. This was now the lucky break that Mach 2 needed. The Supersonic Kid hurriedly made it over to his corner where an angry Big E. Stark was ready to rock and roll... TAG TO BIG E. STARK! Selby was tagged in and well and got bowled over with a HARD Running Shoulder Tackle by Big E. Stark! The fans were going nuts for the Yonkers Bomber as he waited for Selby to get back up to his feet. When he did so, he got cracked with a hard Running Clothesline. When Selby stumbled back up in a daze, he found himself on the bad end of a hard Double Sledge. Stark beat his chest like a wild man and the crowd was going crazy for the big man as he whipped Selby O'Brien all the way across the ring with all his might. He charged in and crushed him with a Corner Body Avalanche! He stumbled forward into the grip of Big E. Stark, who snapped him up and over with a quick Samoan Drop! He turned around and went for the cover. ONE! TWO! THR... NO! Selby kicked out and fired a shoulder up off the mat, showing that he was also a little bit tougher than people thought. Big E. Stark was still in the game, though, and picked him up with an over the shoulder-type move. He was trying for a Running Powerslam, but the attempt failed when Selby slipped out the back door. Stark turned around and got caught in the side of the head with a quick Tornado Enzuigiri from Selby! Stark was woozy and on his knees when Selby finally found himself an opening. He ran off the ropes and when he came back... BOOOOOMMMM! That was what Stark yelled when he sprung to his feet with a mighty big flying headbutt that shot Selby FAR across the ring! The fans were taken aback by the big-time maneuver while Sheamus was still trying to regain his bearings from the corner. He stumbled back into the ring and tried to stop Sheamus, but Stark wasn't having any of that. The big man turned around and bopped him in the side of the head before driving him hard into the ring with a Release Powerbomb! Stark was a one-man wrecking crew tonight! He waited for the woozy Selby to get back to his feet and when he did, he was kicked in the gut before being lifted again. He smiled to the crowd... #1 STUNNA! But this was a brand new version of his favorite maneuver, actually hitting him with a Backpack Stunner variation! Selby was down for the count as Big E. Stark tagged in Mach 2. The Supersonic Kid started to climb the ropes and looked to the crowd while they cheered... THE SHOCKWAVE! SPECTACULAR CORKSCREW SHOOTING STAR PRESS! And Mach 2 stayed on top for the cover after hitting that dangerously beautiful aeriel maneuver. ONE! TWO! THREE! “Here are your winners of the match... the team of Big E. Stark and Mach 2... BIIIIIIGGGGGGG.... EEEEEEEEEEE SMMMMMMMMMMMAAALLLLLLLLLSSSSSSS!” Mach 2 and Big E. Stark had their hands raised by the referee as Lettie Rios came into the ring to celebrate with their crew. They had scored yet another very impressive win and it appeared since Legends V, the team of Big E. Smalls had been on a collision course towards Revival with thus far, PowerTrip and defending champions, the Night Life. Stark, Mach 2, and Lettie all left the ring and headed up the ramp while Stark and Mach both faced the cameras. While Lettie Rios kissed Mach, Stark was all business. “That's gonna be you very soon, Night Life! Very soon! We comin' for you, tag team titles!”
WINNER: Big E. Smalls via pinfall (Mach 2 over Selby O'Brien)
The gift...
The screen opens to the locker room area as "Too Cool" Chris Hopper enters. No, he isn't scheduled to work this evening, but he does enjoy hanging out with the boys and shooting the proverbial shit. He says hello to both Kid Chameleon and Paul Sanders as they is leaving the damp, sweat-smelling area and turns the corner to where his stuff would be stored."What the....." Hopper turns the corner and saw a large suitcase sitting in front of his normal locker space. On it is simply a card that reads "For the King..." Hopper pulls the card off the black Samsonite handle and has the most quizzical look on his face. "This ought to be interesting..." He opened the card up and the camera moved in over his shoulder to show the contents of the letter as Hopper reads it to himself, yet still out loud... "Hey Queenie-Bee, "I wanted to let you know that I appreciate all the work you have done to make my revival in ACW so worthwhile. I decided the best thing to give you was a gift truly from the heart, but also something practical. "Since you will be leaving in a week or so after our next match, I felt it appropriate to get you this luggage for you to store all of your worthless ring clothes and gear into. It should help you get to the next stop on your little tour of shite. "Enjoy it in good health and don't let the door hit you in the arse on your way out. "Sincerely, Gonze" Hopper gently taps the card on his left hand as he chuckles a bit. Honestly, this is pretty funny...even to Chris, but it can't go unanswered. Seriously, Hopper may be new to ACW, but he isn't a rookie and this kind of shit only happens to the truly new guys coming up. As he stands there slyly grinning and concocting his retort, a voice rings out. "I see you got my parting gift." Hopper turns to see Gonze standing at the other end of the row of lockers, grinning a confidant smile. Hopper just stands there as Gonze keeps rolling along, very full of himself. "I actually thought about getting you a gift card for the hospital bill you're going to have after our next match, but it didn't truly get my point across. I think this fits. You're a good hand and all that, but you are on your way out. Surely even you know that." A picture of restraint, Hopper refuses to answer and just stares at Gonze as the brazen bully moves closer to him and keeps talking. "You really thought you could fuck with me and get away with it? You really think you are that much better than I am? Gonze gets close, but Hopper simply stands there and calmly replies. "Jim, I never called you out. You are the one who stuck your nose in on MY match and then hit me with a weapon. If anyone started it, you did." Gonze is about to go through the roof. How dare Hopper call him out and say he started this? He knows if he can incite Hopper into attacking him backstage, he just might avoid another match and get the veteran fired, which is even better because nobody hires people with that baggage. Jimmy leans forward and gets as close to Hopper's face as he can from seven inches shorter. "You can't turn this around on me. YOU overshadowed my return. YOU decided to sign on here and get their hype machine behind you. YOU tried to keep me from being noticed." At this point, Hopper's face shows his "are you kidding me?" reaction perfectly. "Al I did was step out and take back the spotlight that is rightfully mine. I am the one who has dominated here in the past. I am the one who was the first Spirit of ACW. I was busting people up here before you ever walked in the door! You weren't even worth my attention until they decided your return was more worthwhile to hype than mine. "I refuse to sit back and let a second-rate former champion walk into MY league and take MY spot. I'm King of this here mountain and nobody is going to stop my return to that throne. Least of all you and your 'I used to be a big deal' self. So start packing because next Courage, you're finished. You follow?" Hopper stands there as Gonze turns and walks out. Chris smiles and shake his head a little as he stares at the large suitcase. He looks up at the camera. "I've learned a lot in my years, including just how apt the book, 'The Art of War' really is. One of the truisms in that book is 'if you enemy is angry, agitate him.' Gonze is a talented wrestler, without question...but possibly a tad too paranoid. Another glance at the suitcase. "But even he can't help getting frustrated through anger." Chris lets a small, devious chuckle escape his lips. Even when his laugh is finished, the smile remains. "This will do the trick just fine." The screen fades to black as Hopper grabs the suitcase and lifts it to the bench.
Orphan vs. Keiichi ito
As Courage returned from commercial, the final notes of The Imperial March (yes, that one) were playing in the arena, as Keiichi Ito stood in the center of the ring, dressed for combat.Hurriedly, he’d been roused from the back and sent out to the ring. He, unlike his soon to enter opponent, had at least had the time to put on his ring gear. Now, he stood in the center of the ACW ring, ready for the biggest match of his career: a one-on-one showdown against a former two-time ACW World Champion. Said World Champion’s fangirls, Keiichi noticed, were looking at him from their spot at ringside with appraising eyes. Considering their general RPG fandom and approval of bishonen, the younger Ito fit the bill, and wasn’t bad at all to look at. Somehow, though, Keiichi doubted Seymour—err, Orphan would much approve of boning his bitches, so he’d settle for a big, big win here tonight. No music heralded Orphan’s arrival to the ring. In fact, he wasn’t even dressed for a contest tonight. What exactly had happened? Who knew?
Maybe a segment had run short and they needed to fill time. Maybe the match had been booked on the fly. Whatever the case, Orphan had been told to go to the ring, and so he had.
Of course, now that he was out in front of the curtain, he saw Keiichi Ito in the ring. Lovely.
An official sprinted by him on the way to the ring – “Ross’ orders,” Orphan heard, which more or less confirmed that his nice, peaceful night off had now been ruined, and he had to fight, well, a rookie.
It could be much worse, really. Given all of the chaos he had been drawn into from seemingly all sides and angles, a nice simple wrestling match might be just what the doctor ordered.
The Fal’Cie walked towards the ring, casually, getting ready for a short night at the office.
The problem, of course, was that where Orphan saw a bothersome yet ultimately simple chore, Keiichi Ito saw the chance to make a career.
TOPE SUICIDA!
Kenjiro’s son barreled through the second and third ropes, knocking Orphan to the protective mats at ringside with the big dive. Keiichi wasted no time picking up the smaller Orphan, and firing him right back into the ring. Rookie or not, the Emperor of Iburi had been trained very, very well.
*DING DING DING!*
Ito followed the Orphan into the ring, firing off a quick pair of kicks to the ribs as the former champion struggled to get out of the blocks. A European uppercut followed, and it certainly looked as if Keiichi had little intention of letting the not-dressed-to-compete Fal’Cie find his footing.
As Orphan spun from the impact of the European uppercut, Ito hooked both arms around his waist, looking for a big German suplex, but Orphan broke down, and lowered his hips to prevent the suplex. A pair of sharp back elbows to the face further interrupted the move, allowing Orphan to finally at least take off his t-shirt, and throw it in the direction of his Party.
Even that momentary lapse, though, was enough for Keiichi Ito to throw a big high kick. Orphan got an arm up to block, but the force was still more than enough to drop Orphan to the canvas.
Orphan rose, but now sported a “what the Hell ARE you?” sort of look on his face. For this supposedly being the kid’s second professional match, it certainly seemed like he knew what he was doing.
“I was trained well,” Keiichi allowed, before feinting in for a double leg. To Orphan’s credit, he stuffed the takedown, jamming a knee up into the face of the newcomer. Clasping on a front facelock, Orphan elevated Ito in the air for a suplex.
Zimmerman baiting, round two?
Not so much, as Orphan simply walked towards the nearest strand and hung Ito out to dry on it, stomach and chest first, prompting a sympathy wince from the crowd.
Orphan wasted little time ascending the turnbuckles, and even less time flying off to drop the leg across Keiichi’s neck, sending Ito flying ass over teakettle to the canvas.
The jeans clad Orphan covered quickly, hoping he could get out of here nice and quick.
One!
Two!
Kickout!
Wishful thinking, that, really.
Ito fired off a kick to the knee, and then a second shot to the opposite leg. Another kick followed to the shoulder, one to the ribs, and so on, and so forth…
It was, Orphan knew, pretty damned similar to the way he liked to break down an opponent. On his knees, he couldn’t see Mr. Burning Ambition: something that was in all likelihood a rather large problem.
Said problem came barreling towards the Fal’Cie, dropping down at the last second to crush him with a sliding elbow smash to the back of the head, a maneuver that the Savior of Iburi called SAVIOR’S GRACE.
The cover followed.
ONE!
TWO!
THR—NO! SHOULDER UP!
The Australian crowd could practically *smell* the upset, particularly after Keiichi’s vicious sliding elbow to the back of the head. He wasn’t a hero; not really, anyway, but he was still drawing the vast majority of cheers in the arena. Orphan was reeling, clearly not having expected this match. Hell, he was in street clothes.
The younger Ito peppered Orphan as he stood with a pair of sharp kicks to the ribcage, before moving in close, trying to hook the Fal’Cie up for a big Exploder suplex. Orphan elbowed his way out with a pair of sharp elbows to the side of the head, then spun quickly to bury his heel in Ito’s abdomen courtesy of a textbook spinning back kick.
To put it mildly, the Orphan was not happy at all with how the past few weeks had gone. And now that Keiichi Ito’s run of offense had been put to a halt, the Fal’Cie had a victim to take out some aggression on.
The son of perhaps the least popular Japanese wrestler to ever make it to US shores fought his way up to his knees, as Orphan returned the favor from earlier.
*THWACK!*
*THWACK!*
*THWACK!*
Three hard kicks to the chest popped throughout the arena, but the pained Ito merely waved his hand, as if to say “bring it the fuck on, pretty boy!”
Orphan obliged.
*THWACK!*
*THWACK!*
*BOOM!*
Two more to the chest, and a spinning back kick that drove heel right into the forehead of the younger of the Ito Dynasty was enough to put Keiichi down. Orphan covered immediately, a forearm driven across the face.
One.
Two.
Kickout.
“Just stay down so I can go home already,” Orphan sighed. Really, he had no interest in this match, or Keiichi Ito, but when the boss told you to go to the ring, you went.
And even as a dickhead anti-ACW bad guy, Seymour Almasy was too proud to walk to the back and eat the countout loss. That, or he just didn’t want to job. Your call, really.
“Like Hell I will,” Ito retorted. “You’re my ticket to the top of this place.”
Orphan was still close enough for Keiichi to snatch him by the head, twisting into a small package!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-NO! SO CLOSE!
With momentum back on his side, Ito the Younger returned to his feet, mowing down a charging Orphan with a vicious lariat. Whether Orphan was frazzled due to his earlier altercation with Keith Scott Zimmerman, or simply dealing with not having prepared for Ito, Keiichi didn’t care one jot.
And now, it was time to put away the distracted Orphan and, as his father liked to say, “go backstage and bone the bitches.”
Northern. Lights. Suplex.
ONE!
TWO!
SHOULDER!
Rolling with the shoulder being lifted, Keiichi tenaciously held on to the move, back to his feet, and took Orphan over with the second suplex in the Divine Trinity.
ONE!
TWO!
SHOULDER!
Once more, Keiichi rolled through, looking to complete the hat trick, but Orphan managed to throw a quick knee to the midsection. Seizing his chance, Orphan crossed the arms of the young rookie, hooked a leg behind Ito’s, and snapped straight south to the canvas.
REQUIEM
Ito’s head smashed into the canvas at terminal velocity courtesy of the snap straitjacket DDT, and almost immediately, Orphan rolled backwards and away, poised on his hands and knees. Backing up another few steps, he grinned in triumph, preparing to charge with the head punt that had been damnably difficult to get off in the past few weeks.
But…no..
Orphan wasn’t an idiot, on most nights. He knew what he was about to do was probably a terrible idea. But he was angry, confused, and generally pissed off at the ACW world and one particular member of it.
Khristain Keller? GoldenHAWK? Both threats, yes, but they’d be dealt with at REVIVAL.
Shaking his head, the Forgotten Son of ACW smiled, and walked over to the struggling rookie. “Helping” him to his feet, he applied a three-quarter facelock, and looked out to the world.
“Alison,” he said, a tiny smirk on his face, “this one’s for you.”
The front row winced. The Party winced most of all.
Orphan blew a kiss to the camera. And then?
killjoy.
Oh no, he didn’t.
Keith Scott Zimmerman’s patented snapmare driver drove Keiichi Ito head-first into the canvas. No matter how valiant the rookie’s fight, there were some things that you simply didn’t come back from.
The killjoy just so happened to be one of them.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Academic.
*DING DING DING!*
Paige Davis shot Orphan a very, very dirty look, but shook her head as she raised his hand in the air.
“Your winner of this contest…ORRRRPPHHHAAANNNN!”
A very satisfied smug grin resided on Orphan’s face as he made his way out of the ring. He hadn’t wanted to compete tonight – and indeed, had gotten more than he wanted from the plucky rookie in the ring – but he had turned a negative into a positive. Another win under his belt, a message sent – not too bad, in the end.
Rounding the ring, he paused to embrace each member of his Party in turn. He would have to talk to them later; perhaps have them get seats further from ringside. Each hug seemed a bit more desperate than usual, and it was truly difficult for Seymour to pry himself away.
“I’ll be fine, girls,” he said. “Just be careful. Keith’s still got his match tonight.”
GoldenHAWK and Khristain Keller loomed at Revival, but the Forgotten Son of ACW was growing rapidly more concerned that another threat was lurking, not so subtly, on the horizon.
But Keith Scott Zimmerman could wait for another day. For now, all that was left was the walk to the back, where he could finish watching the show, and head out into Aussieland in search for something to eat.
All told, stresses aside, it hadn’t been an awful night.
WINNER: Orphan by pinfall (killjoy?!)
"It is at this point in our story that along comes a spider..."
Even though he’d been victorious, it was a scowling Orphan that made his way back behind the curtain. He’d been taken to his limits by a rookie, barely won, and was dealing with not only GoldenHAWK and Khristain Keller, but Keith Scott Zimmerman, to boot.It was a dance card that was far, far fuller than he’d wanted upon making his return to ACW. “Should have remembered this damned place was cursed,” he groaned, taking his first few steps into Gorilla. As Orphan walked on, though, he felt a sudden feeling of dread. Said dread was only exacerbated by the fact that each tech he passed as he walked on looked increasingly and increasingly nervous. Something was up, and Orphan, Seymour Almasy, whatever you want to call him? Not happy. “firaga.” “Jesus Christ!” The Forgotten Son of ACW hit the deck at the word, as a rather impressive fireball flew at him from over a nearby large black trunk. Almost immediately, Almasy was up, and facing the direction of that trunk, body trembling. Only one person would do this. Only one person was crazed enough to assault him like this. Well, okay, two, but Keller was a backfighter, and didn’t talk in the bizarre monotone that had signaled the time honored weapon of psycho heels the wrestling world over. From behind the crate, of course, slowly rose up one Keith Scott Zimmerman to his full height. Apparently, he wasn’t particularly happy with Orphan/Almasy right now. “that’s the word i meant to use, right, seymour? you nerd.” Zimmerman’s manic chuckle didn’t make Orphan any happier, particularly when he noticed that one of Zimmerman’s hands was down, at his side, out of sight. “Is this really how it has to be, Keith?” Orphan asked, beginning to back slowly away from the (black) Scorpion Champion. “You started all of this. I never asked for it.” “didn’t you?” Zimmerman retorted. “you’re the one who’s dropped my name twice, unsolicited. Once at Legends II. Once at Legends V.” Slowly, as if milking the moment, Zimmerman raised his right hand, revealing what it was holding. Almasy went ghastly pale at the sight, feet rooted where he stood as KSZ brandished a Singapore cane that had been, well…set on fire. “seymourorphanseymour.” Keith sighed, shaking his head. “all that time fighting evil and you don’t know a villain when you see one?” With deceptive speed, the former Dean of the Digital Mafia leaped forward, up onto the trunk, and then launched himself forward at Orphan with a wide, overhand swing. Orphan wheeled away, to the side, allowing burning bamboo to bounce off the concrete floor. “What the fuck is the MATTER WITH YOU?!” Orphan yelled, by now done with pleasantries, and simply running the Hell away, off down a corridor. For his part, KSZ followed, one of the few people on the ACW active roster who could match Seymour Almasy in the speed department. “why do they ALWAYS ask me that?" he asked the air. "everybody knows already, unless they're choosing to forget." And with that, he turned his run even faster to hunt down a thorn in his side. "since you seem to be so enchanted with my wife that you feel the need to let her name spill past your lips -- lips that have no business intoning it, in case you've forgotten -- let me cut out the middleman. i’ll get you a nice bed right next to hers. the difference is, boy, that she’ll be getting out of it. and you...well...” Almasy continued to run through the unfamiliar corridors of the arena, as backstage employees gave predator and prey a justifiably wide birth. Zimmerman slowed up as he saw Seymour’s path leading him towards what looked damn sure like a dead end. Seymour pressed his back against the literal and proverbial wall, just watching as Zimmerman approached. He shook his head. “You had no reason to bring up their names!” Seymour growled. “No reason at all. If you hadn’t done that, none of this would be happening, you psycho!” “psycho? MEEE? psycho? i'm not psycho. well, I am psycho.” Zimmerman cackled. “it seems to be giving meeeee clarity and drive. so, i suppose psycho, from your fragile psyche, is the word. though the proper term is give-a-fuck-deficient-American. you seem to be under the assumption that I didn’t want any of this to happen. Seymour Almasy, Orphan, by whatever name you call yourself, you are PREDICTABLE. You allow four red, glowing panic buttons to sit at ringside for your matches and foolishly, naively expect no one to push them?” “They. Aren’t. Wrestlers!” Seymour screamed. “This is what you do now? Do unto others as you had done unto you? This isn’t you, Keith!” “i told you before, tourist, but it is. this is the me that i could have been all along, had I so chosen. i can be anything i want, seymorphan. anything at all. i've chosen this. there is no turning back for me, and there damn sure isn't going to be for you. The Path demands it. this is your last warning,” Zimmerman threatened, as he walked forward, cane pointed at Almasy’s throat. “we're going to have our little coming to flying spaghetti monster meeting whether you like it or not." “Put it down, Zimmerman!” the voice of “Big” Rex Silver yelled out. ACW’s Chief of Security was flanked by several fellow guards. “You’ve got a match later. Get out of here!" Seymour was prepared for a swing of some sort. What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was Zimmerman casually jabbing the cane forward, not touching any of the former Final Fantasy’s flesh. What it did do, however, was ignite the platinum locks of the former two-time champion. “GET HIM,” Silver’s voice yelled out, as he and two guards tackled the (black) Scorpion Champion to the ground. The flaming kendo stick skittered along the ground before coming to rest, leaving a shocked Orphan standing, the ends of his hair ablaze, the fire starting to spread…finally, with a bloodcurdling scream, Seymour dropped down, trying to roll to put out the flames as the security guards not occupied with Zimmerman ran over, in a frantic attempt to help. And the champion's manic laughter was in full gear before he shut it down for some parting words. “so you've decided to poke the bear? push my buttons? this is a long, long night, seymorphan.” Zimmerman called out, voice still frightfully calm even as he was being dragged away by ACW security. “and i'm just DYING to find out what happens when i push yours. TOODLES!” As Seymour Almasy lay on the cold, concrete floor, the stench of burning hair overwhelming, he believed the former ACW World Champion. How in God’s name could he not?
Radicals.
"Robbie Gates here with your one and only Spirit of ACW Champion, GoldenHAWK!"As the big screen lit up to the handsome, yet geeky face of Gates standing next to the Spirit, the roof blew the fuck off the god damned building. Yeah it did. "Last week GoldenHAWK, you shocked the World by doing two things. The first one was wearing your fathers old mask as a tribute to the great man, but the second and probably most shocking thing about last week, was you standing in the middle of Orphan and Khristain Keller and announcing that there will be a match at Revival between the three of you, what can you tell us about last week?" GoldenHAWK took a minute to soak in the fans as he adjusted his title belt. "Last week Robbie, I showed those two punks that the HAWKs were not to be messed with! But to your first point, I made it a personal mission to try and make sure that nobody will forget my father, and to do that, I'd like to use his mask whenever I compete here in ACW, and anywhere else in the World for that matter." The fans gave him a warm applause. "Last week, I announced the arrival of the HAWK. I'm sick and tired of people around here thinking I'm some little kid who needs looking after. I want to tell everyone here in Australia, that at Revival... I will be kicking both of their asses!" "HEY LOOK YOU CUNTS! ITS AL FUCKING JOLSON!" KELLER BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO Yup. Robbie Gates shat a brick when Keller came sauntering up the hallway to interupt the Spirit of ACW Champion... but left a few people puzzled to the Jolson reference. "Catch the hell up people, I'm not here to spoon feed you comedy, let's leave that to Zimmerman." GoldenHAWK went straight into 'I'll Fuck You Up' mode as he waited to see what Keller was up to. "I was just strolling around, as I'm off tonight, and wondered hey... let me go and see what my little buddy is up to." At that point, GoldenHAWK said nothing, but stared right through that son of a bitch... which prompted Keller to turn around. "Here you go... I know how you love stabbing people in the back like last week!" Turning around, with a giant grin on his face, Keller proclaimed to the World his true feelings. "I'm proud of you for that one... clearly been watching old matches from yours truly to get good at that I think." "Why don't you just shut up Keller?" HAHAHAHAHAHA. A laugh. "Man, such a crappy retort from a babyface... man that must be boring. I can do whatever I want at this point in time, for instance, the fourth word I uttered was the word CUNT... you won't even be allowed to spell that just encase your kiddy fans take it to school with them and show their teacher." It was then, that Keller crossed the line. "Poor. Little. Kid." WHACK. A hard right hand from GoldenHAWK caught Keller off guard as he stumpled back into the adjacent wall. "What the..." "Would a babyface do that? You idiot. You think that just because you don't need to play by the rules then this place is yours to fool around with. It's not. ACW is a breathing, living thing and I won't for a second deny it has it's cancer like you and all the others, but I'm the medicine. I'm ACWs hero. I can't stand back any longer and wait for Sheffield, or Sharp, or Zimmerman to come to their senses, I need to rid ACW of it's darkness before it finally takes over, and that starts with you and that crazy fucker Orphan in two weeks!" OH YEAH! "Did you just say 'fucker'? Jesus." Keller rubbed his jaw and gave off a little sly grin. "Looks like your dad was wrong about you san." Oh hell no. "What the hell does that mean?" Keller shrugged. "Maybe I will tell you one day, HAWK, but until then... looks like I'll see you next week for the cliche' contract signing yeah?" As he wandered away, it had began eating at him already, which is exactly what Keller meant to do with that statement. What did he mean by that?
It's Just Business
*squak squak squak**squak squak squak* Le sigh. Joe Bishop had been on this conference call for fifty minutes. YES. FIFTY FUCKING MINUTES. Yet he still didn't know where ACW stood. What is this call about you may ask? How about we listen in. "Mr Sullivans prerequisites for the deal being put through are not what I would call out of the ordinary Mr Bishop, especially with the companies track record for shall we say... death." Scratching his head and wishing his cranium would stop that throbbing pain, he once again attempted to defend this great company, but knew his efforts wouldn't make much difference. ACW had to sign the deal. "Oh... wait, we have Mr Sullivan here now." ESEN PRESIDENT - QUENTIN SULLIVAN "Joseph, let me break this down for you. We would like ACW under the ESEN roof, of course we would, your product is quite simply one of the best in the World. The problem we have, is showing the product live, because then we have no comeback." "Mr Sullivan," Bishop retorted. "I realise that more or less all 'live' TV these days has a short delay, we are fine with that, but what you are talking is totally editing the programme, well that's what..." Bishops mind went a blank. "Stephen..." "Yeah, Stephen has put forward. Now I realise as we tour the World, shows will need to be taped, but if you are going to do that, I need someone on our side next to you guys in the cutting room so we don't miss anything out that is big to us, but maybe not big to you." A slight pause was only interupted by a chap on Bishops door, he was needed elsewhere. "Mr Sullivan, I need to go, as you can imagine I'm pretty busy today with the show going on right now, but please... if we can sort that one item out, the deal is done." "You will hear from me soon Joseph." *CLICK* With that, Bishop put the phone down and ran to put out the latest fire in the ACW locker room. Across the other side of the globe, Quentin Sullivan smiled. He was just about to sign the biggest wrestling federation in the World.
Dude In Mask v Hank Wright
As a commercial break ended, we picked up the tail-end of Hank Wright’s strut towards the squared circle, the audience supporting both of these participants, who had nothing against one another. Why were they standing on opposite sides of the ring, you ask? Well, despite Hank’s attempts to save Dude from a career-ending beating courtesy of Keith Scott Zimmerman, he’d labelled him as no threat towards KSZ and a dude in a mask – literally. Therefore, in spite of mutual respect, the masked man challenged The Tank to explain himself earlier tonight and challenged the tall Texan to show him he was more than just DIM. As Hank entered the ring, he tosses his red jacket to one side and stretched his arms, gearing up for his second competitive match in the Australian tour while Dude was aiming to get the KSZ crushing and an embarrassing handicap defeat against Omega out of his system with a convincing showing. Wright walked up to Dude and offered him his hand in friendship. The ex-Gateway Champion looks to the crowd, who cheer and give their approval. After pondering for a few seconds, DIM eventually accepted the gesture and then retreated to his corner. Ding! Nevertheless, straight after the bell sounded, Dude returned to the middle of the ring, running and catching the wily veteran with a marvellous dropkick that took everyone in Adelaide by surprise, let alone his opposite number. It wasn’t enough to floor Hank, who was stumbling around like a drunken bum, but a second SWEET-ASS DROPKICK sends Hank to the corner with interest. WHOO! WHOO! Two razor-sharp chops racked the tough Texan’s chest with a dosage of pain, almost turning his upper body a shade of strawberry. Dude was fixed to dump Wright into the opposite corner but Hank slammed on the brakes, grabbing the disguised superstar by the top of his head and hoying him into the top turnbuckle with no regards. Unfortunately for the Forth Worth native, he was unable to capitalise on the mini-opening, a telegraphed swing being easily read by DIM, who punishes The Governor’s sluggishness with two right hands of his own. Then, it was Dude’s turn to make a mistake, predictably attempting to usher a kick to Hank’s midsection, which was intercepted instead… Hank walked out of the corner, holding Dude’s right leg… Enziguri! DIM dropped him with the free left foot, yielding a 2-count, the first of the encounter, as a result. ACW’s masked marvel was already on the move and heading upstairs. For what? Diving Crossbody… Caught! The Tank took him where he’d been just moments ago, tapping him off the top turnbuckle. The next motion was not a tap though, far from it in fact… Oklahoma Stampede. Wright wasn’t content: He ‘helped’ Dude back up, hooking the leg and taking him down with a Russian Legsweep/Lariat combination, he prefers to call the Texan Legsweep, extracting a 2-count. The Lone Star had a swagger, full of purpose as opposed to arrogance, and hoisted Dude up into a chokebomb position, dropping him onto his knee with an inverted atomic drop… WHACK! Wright usually follows it up with a shotei and no doubt that was his intention. Dude used Hank’s momentum against him, grabbing The Governor and taking him up and down with a wonderful fireman’s carry flapjack! 1… 2… THE Dude then ushered a punch to Hank’s stomach as The Tank was recovering, though this was a setback on the full road to recuperation as Dude took him down forcefully with a spinning elbow headlock drop. One… Two… Hank managed to get a shoulder up but Dude wasn’t deterred. He tried to build on his lead with a snap suplex. Mind you, it probably wasn’t the best choice given his opponent’s size and strength advantage, Wright blocking Dude’s effort not once, but twice. Thereafter, The Tank turned the tables on DIM by effortlessly lifting him skywards with a stalling vertical suplex and planting him with ease. Wright afforded himself a moment to interact with the Australians, receiving a roar from them as he outstretched his arms and then darted off the perpendicular ropes, gaining full steam ahead to bury an elbow deep in the… Heart of Texas. Hank got a 2-count and then assisted Dude in getting to his feet. Out of nowhere, the disguised star managed to sneak an inside cradle, which Wright didn’t fall for powering out just before 2. Strangely, getting back up, Hank beat DIM to the punch, crucially, virtually beheading the former Gateway Champ with a short-range western lariat, he calls… Where The West Begins. Could it prove to be a foothold into the bout for the big man? The referee was counting the two participants out and the battle was already having an effect on each man. However, Hank got up first, significantly, followed shortly after by The Dudester… Turnbuckle Bomb! Once again, Wright wasn’t done there and looked to take the lead in a match he’d been second best so far. He wanted to address that momentarily and he placed Dude on the top rope, perhaps a signal of intent from the Forth Worth native here. Tentatively, The Tank, who’s used to the ground, joined Dude, who’s contrastingly is quite happy up there when he’s thrilling All-Star Championship Wrestling fans all over the world, on the top floor. It appeared that Hank had a superplex attempt in mind. Hey Dude had other ideas though. Just as The Governor was hooking his tights, he fired three shots in reply, all peppering the pectoral area, effectively ensuring Hank fell to the floor, not too awkwardly, but enough to daze him temporarily. That was all the time and space Dude desired and required. He patiently waited for Wright to get up to his feet, who turned around after facing the wrong way (pun intended) when he returned to a vertical base, only to be caught with a superb spinning wheel kick off the top. Oh, and it came with batteries and a pinning predicament too... The operative word being too/two, which was the end product. Hank’s denial must’ve been instinctive because he was still wobbly when he returned to his feet, again unsure where Dude was, which played into the masked man’s hands… Or should I say feet? Lungblower! 1… 2… Near-fall! The crowd were lapping up Dude’s performance enough. It went to a higher plateau though… SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT! No doubt, Dude-A-Mania was running wild, folks! He was a talented performer and had a penchant of pleasing ACW audiences worldwide and here on the other side of the globe in Adelaide was no different, his catchphrase catching on… Wait wait, it’s trending now, isn’t it? Back to the action and we were about to see some when Dude hooked Hank’s arms and was ready to give The Governor one of his patented finishers… Dude, That Hurt A LOT… Except it was Dude himself who was uttering those words when Wright smelt the danger, clasping his huge hands around The Dudester’s waist and ramming him into the corner out of pure desperation. The Tank was finally about to explode into full motion. Out they came… Say what? MACHINE GUNS! Three of them rattled off in quick succession, just as Dude did to the Texas Badass in the initial minutes of this contest. It wouldn’t be the last we saw of those dangerous fuckers either… Texan Uppercut, Machine Gun, Texan Uppercut, Machine Gun… Left knee to the stomach, right knee to the stomach… Two punches to the head, two kicks to the chest and finally, mercifully or mercilessly, depending on your point of view… A Yakuza Kick. Ladies and gents, Hank had just handed out a WRIGHT Beating. The Governor was now bossing DIM and he asserted his newfound authority by whipping DIM into the corner. When he set off, Dude was still standing there, but in mid-flight, he managed to get out of the way and up onto the top turnbuckle… Hank stumbled slightly, but he’d be doing a lot more of it momentarily as Dude reeled him back in, grabbing Hank’s head and using a manoeuvre that would make his fans say… DUDE, that move really pulled the room together! And it did. Oh, it really did. His reverse tornado DDT had scored in spectacular style… One…. Two…. Th… Dude was a heartbeat away from walking out of here with a victory over the man who may’ve saved his career and who’d taken one for Dude, eating electric for his heroic efforts. Instead of dwelling on that or the 2.9 count, he headed upstairs again, determined to polish the Forth Worth native off once and for all… THE DUDE TO AIR MISSILE! Crash landing! At the last split-second, Hank unearthed one of the oldest tricks in the book, raising his long legs to give Dude a nasty fall. This gave the official the chance to do his job, both men down for the count. DIM rose first but Hank was up soon after… Dude threw a punch, which missed… OUCH! Hank had got his hands on DIM in a waistlock position, making him pay for a stray swing just as Dude had done to him earlier, taking him for a ride… Backdrop Driver! 1… 2… 2 ½! That was a reminder of what Hank could do, even if Dude had essentially dominated large portions of this impromptu fixture. The Lone Star set himself up in a 3-point stance. Dude was oblivious to the fact a ticket for The T, a high-speed bus that was about to mow him down… 0-60… Crash and burn! Instead, Hank could only think one thing… DUDE THAT HURT! Both men had pump kicks in their repertoire but DIM was the one who’d hit his and could it add insult to defeat if he could pin a fellow user with it? We were going to find out as the crowd counted along… ONE… TWO… THR…NO! The hottest near-fall of the match so far provoked a collective gasp from the crowd, who were involved in this battle between two popular performers giving it their all in the name of respect and competition. DIM could hardly believe it; apparently certain it was enough to put his opposition away. The referee reiterated that while it was close, it remained 2 and not the elusive 3 he was searching for. He would have to forget it and find the answer in another place, but surely it had to be near? Maybe his High-Angle Belly-to-Belly would do the trick… Then again, maybe it wouldn’t. Wright fought him off with three stern, colder-than-Alaska elbows causing separation. Dude wasn’t thinking straight. He still thought he had the better of Hank and ran back towards him, eager to please the fans and decide this duel, only to get splattered across the canvas with a powerful spinebuster. Hank hooked the leg, nodding with each slap of the canvas… 1… 2… NO! Now, it was The Tank’s turn to be frustrated. He thought he’d stolen it there and then, though it wasn’t to be. Perhaps out of frustration, ACW’s Lost Legend let ACW’s Masked Marvel have it with a string of stiff knees to the head, beautifully complemented by a massive kneelift to round the sequence off rather nicely. Hank roared. He picked DIM up, possibly prematurely, for his patented Keene Hammer that he had christened (cheesy, eh?) The Wright Way… It wasn’t correct this time as Dude paid Hank’s elbows back just moments ago with some of his own. Again, Hank assumed a big boot would be the answer but DIM caught his boot. Instead of doing what Dude-A-Mania did earlier and hit back with an Enziguri, Hank was left hanging around… Allowing the ex-Gateway Champion to send him sprawling to the canvas courtesy of a sublime stepover spin kick! Dude may’ve connected with it but he was unable to execute the cover. Hank’s massive chest was beating heavily, desperately trying to obtain oxygen. Tellingly, while the referee was counting, DIM broke it up at 7 and started another as the authority figure bent down to see if we had a winner… 1 2 3? Not yet, but boy, was it close! Dude shouted ‘SAAAAAAAAAAAY WHAAAAAAAAAAAT’ for the 2nd time and fed off the energy the audience projected back to him. He was looking for his finisher… He picked Hank up and applied the front facelock… DUDE, THAT HURT A LOT! By fuck, it did… Except… It hurt Dude a lot! You see, Hank managed to lift DIM up into a fireman’s carry position instead, holding the disguised superstar on the back before, unfortunately, showing him… THE WRIGHT WAY! The fireman’s carry variant of the Keene Hammer elicited a collective ‘OOOOOH’ from the Aussies, who counted along as Hank hooked the leg… 1… 2…. Would it be? 3!!! Hank took a few minutes to get his breath. Just like the first card in Perth, The Tank had been tested and had arguably been on the wrong side of the offence in his matches with William T. Rex and Dude in Mask yet had emerged with his hand in the air, as the official was doing now. Dude was out cold, hardly surprising given the impact and awkward angle his head had been driven into the canvas at. Little did he know it, Hank bent down and patted him on the top of his mask, indicating his respect for his fellow competitor and perhaps an acknowledgement he was more than just a dude in a mask. He could go and could feel hard done by post-match. As Wright waved to the crowd, he’d done it again: He’d found a way to win. Here in Adelaide, it was The Wright Way.
WINNER: Hank Wright
"...he is a man without a conscience for whom the ends ALWAYS justify the means..."
Hank was still waving to the crowd when the broken guitar kicked in and a light scratch of a needle could be heard, all played to the disturbing scenes of Allison's victimisation.That was why Keith Scott Zimmerman had become a cold-blooded bastard in recent weeks, leaving a trail of pain and woe in his wake, maiming his co-workers for fun, including sending an electric shock through Hank Wright’s body when the Texan ironically tried to save DIM (who’d rolled out of the ring by this point) and copped one in the chest for his goodwill. On Episode 3, Hank had called Keith out but the man once known as The Only Wrestler That Matters wasn’t around. He was tonight and he walked to the ring with purpose, showing absolutely no emotion which was a drastic change from earlier events on this Courage. The former 2-time World Champion was a one-man wrecking crew but The Tank had taken exception to the innocent opponents he was obliterating. As Keith approached the ring, Hank called for a microphone and nodded his head as Zimmerman entered, mockingly clapping it up for KSZ. “Well done for making it this week, Keith. I appreciate it. Shame you weren’t around at the last Courage but don’t worry about it. We all know you’re used to doing things your way and getting away with it.” Hank circled Zimmerman and then approached him from the left side: “Not anymore.” Wright was now in front of Keith again: “Keith, you’re an amazing wrestler and one of the best ever. What happened to Allison was awful. I want you to know that. “But this, what you’re doing now, has got to stop. You’re hurting guys, innocent guys, who’ve got nothing to do with your wife or what happened to her. You’ve got your priorities all wrong and you’ve snapped. “You’re hurting people who aren’t immediate threats to you, people who’ve never done anything personal to you and yet you’re going over the line with them, trying to end their careers and FOR WHAT? It’s not their fault that someone slapped Allison around.” The Texan stared holes through Zimmerman: “The guy I’ve just beaten has just given me a great fight. There was no luck involved but he’s actually lucky to be here because if you had your way, he’d be in a wheelchair, wouldn’t he, Keith?” KSZ didn’t answer the rhetorical question: “They say actions speak louder than words and I guess they do because you ain’t got much to say, have you? Then again, what can you say? You ain’t gonna say sorry. You can’t defend what you’ve done. When I got involved, you stunned me too. Why did you that, huh?” Hank held out the microphone, waiting for an answer. He'd be waiting a while. Again, there was no response from the unflinching champion. Hank wiped his forehead and took another break before ‘invading’ Zimmerman’s personal space, hovering over him, and mere inches from his face: “You won’t do it again, I guarantee that. I’m not having a puny little punk like you, who’s suddenly decided to play the tough guy, end my career. “I grew up in an era when men were men and that doesn’t just mean by being tough, it means doing what’s right and you don’t tick any of those boxes. What you’ve done in recent weeks is not clever. In fact, it makes me sick.” For the first time all show, Zimmerman broke out into a smile while Wright’s eyes grew, glaring coldly at KSZ: “You think this is funny, huh? You’re a comedian now? You’re a tough guy and a comedian? Well, that’s really funny.” Suddenly, Hank grabbed Keith by the throat and looked the Californian dead in the eyes. The crowd cheered and seemed disappointed when, after deliberating for a few seconds, The Governor relinquished his grip: “No, no. That would make me a hypocrite. I’m not going to end your career, not without good reason but listen up and listen good: Put your hands on me again, try to end my career and you’ll see my inner beast. I’m not here to be pushed around. I may be relatively new but I ain’t scared of anybody in ACW, least of all someone like you and if you want to try me, I’ll be here EVERY WEEK. Just say the word and be a man. That’s all I ask.” Set back on solid ground, Zimmerman rolled out of the ring and reached under the apron before pulling out a chair. Wright immediately got himself in a ready position to fight the reigning Scorpion champion--only to look confused as KSZ slid the chair into the ring. The Tank looked at the chair at his feet, as Zimmerman grabbed another chair and rolled into the ring with it. Cameraphones went skyward just like old-school cameras, and the crowd's fever began to pitch as Zimmerman rolled into the ring, weapon in hand, annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd-- --that's-- --he's not-- --uhhh....okay. So Keith unfolded the chair with the back facing Hank, and sat down before gesturing to the microphone. Looking askance at the Northern Californian, Hank threw Keith the microphone before gesturing for Tommy to throw him another one. "SNIFF" went the champion right into the microphone. "hank, if you wish to continue this discourse, it will be under my rules. i figured you might want to be comfortable. you see my hands are clear. then again, hank, maybe you want to use the chair, hm?" Wright's eyes narrowed as he looked at Keith, trying to ignore the response from the crowd. "but of course you're not going to, are you? because you're hank wright, paragon of virtue, executor of justice, and all that other Saturday-morning cartoon bullshit. also? if you want your answers? if you want why you REALLY came into the ring two shows ago? you will park yourself in that chair. i'm facing you like a man now after your browbeatings, the least you can do is learn from my example and shut up and listen to somebody else." The crowd hissed and booed but Hank broke out into a wry smile. "Well, since I am here for answers, Keith..." And with that, Wright unfolded and sat in the chair opposite Zimmerman before putting his feet on Zimmerman's rest underneath him. "...you better have them." Zimmerman looked at Hank square in the eyes. "i wouldn't concern myself about that were i fortunate enough to be in your shoes. apparently you know all about me, so you know i have all the answers. were i you, hank, i would worry very much i wouldn't like the answers when i got them." "Is that right, Keith?" said Hank with a bit of malice and a snarl. "well, we'll see. i think i'm right. i also think i'm going to pay a physical price for being right." Zimmerman scratched at his nose before bringing up the microphone yet again. "but i don't care anymore. greatness does not exist without sacrifice. something i've been horribly reminded of lately." At this, Zimmerman's eyes went cold, and he looked at Hank as if he were facing Khristian Keller himself. "you see, hank, everything you really want is going to happen at REVIVAL. i already signed the contract and you'll find it waiting with ross in the back. you will get a shot at me and the cursed false idol i hold the moment you put pen to paper." The crowd ovated at the news as Hank's eyes flashed in shock, somewhat stunned that Zimmerman wasn't going to try to make him jump through hoops to get a chance at him. Zimmerman licked his lips and pursed them once again. "but first, you're going to get your answers. and then i show you the difference between knowing the path and walking it." "All right, already, Keith, we get it. Start making sense. Give me the answers. What the hell happened to you?" Keith's head tilted back. "well, you know what happened to me. you saw what happened to me. i was, to quote some great leader of men, being a man. and what did it get me? it got me jumped by seven other men. it got my wife her second broken neck. it got my life ruined FOREVER, and that's a bit longer than you dare dream until something horrible happens." Zimmerman's face turned into a snarl. "all your little barbs the past two shows, your cute little jibes when i'm spending eighteen hours a day in an icu back in the states, five crying, and the other one trying and failing to sleep. that's quote where i was." Hank blanched a little at this. While Zimmerman was picking up the reputation for being unstable Hank was a pretty good judge of character, and there was something in the Scorpion's green eyes that was unflinchingly hard. "but who am i telling? you're HANK GODDAMNED WRIGHT, aren't you? why, when that human ad for abortion trey vincent put my wife through a table, you were right there helping me with th--no, you weren't. my apologies. i must've misremembered. but i do remember this: i remember the 103rd airborne coming from every single side of the arena, i remember johnny ess completely capitulating to that terrorist in fuschia, getting gang stomped by 30 or 40 people and losing the crown jewel and as i was getting stitched up to participate in end game hank wright was right th--no, that wasn't you, either. that was HER. NOT you. butbutbutbutbutbutbutBUT! see! i know this! i know! this i know! when my wife got her neck snapped by keller and his loyal band of sycophants why hank wright was sitting next to me in the ambu--NOPE." Wright glared at Keith, which was almost nothing compared to the glare he was getting. "you didn't give a shit about anything with my name on it until last week. so i don't want to hear about how tough you think i'm not. i've lived more than you'll ever know, i've given more than i'll ever show." Zimmerman took some effort to swallow, and continued. "you're going to choke me, hank? going to beat me up at REVIVAL because i prodded you? i look forward to it. i WELCOME it. that's why i signed the contract, so you can do that. because nothing anybody can do to me is going to hurt me as much as i hurt anyways. i don't care what wounds get opened up. i don't care if i lose flesh. i don't even care if i happen to lose that tainted strap. when your life becomes a living nightmare, it has this horrifyingly beautiful way of clearing away all the bullshit and making it fall away. you can't hurt me the way i've been hurt. i got destroyed by an act of god." Zimmerman smiled. "now i know the name. the games. so your little be a star campaign can fall out of the sky." And at that, Keith stood up and Hank quickly scrambled out of his chair to loom over Keith, too. Zimmerman looked completely unconcerned. "ahem hem. and here i thought my jokes were bad, as another cursed genius said once. for i know i am not getting BE A MAN from a man who held up companies for more money. i know the hurricane dares not stand across from me having given an entire generation of mexican children nightmares. i know the man who didn't hold el campeonship del mundo para dos ocasiones is going to stand here telling me not to be cutthroat and ruthless. you just had a title to defend, hank, and i have a legacy. the sickest, darkest legacy on planet earth. this thing was baptized in slave's blood back in civil war days for a black man who dared be athletically superior to a white man, and for the past almost two CENTURIES the hits have kept on coming. that cursed hunk, the noose around my neck has done everything short of shoot kennedy from the grassy knolls. and you want to troll me because of a few broken necks th--" "A few is TOO MANY, Keith!" The crowd roared at the Lone Star cutting off the long-winded champion. "You can defend the title without ending people's careers! You can fight fairly and--" "ahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHHBAHAAAHAHAHAAHAHAAANAanaamuauahaahahaHAHAAAAAAHAHHAHAAAHAHAAHAHAAAAAAAAAAaahahahah" And at this the crowd's reaction went back to 180 and malicious. "i should fight fairly. i remembered what happen to me when i fought fairly. my wife got her neck broken twice. no more. never again. if careers have to end and necks have to be snapped so people realize the enormity of what they're in for if they dare look my way then so be it. think about it, hank. what do you possibly have that could compare to what i had? you don't have a wife anymore, so far as i know nothing beyond the occassional ring rat, perhaps. so no. you do--heywaitasecondsaidtheramblinglunatic." Keith snapped his fingers. "what you have is a son." Hank's fist clenched and then calmly found a home against Zimmerman's jaw. "WATCH IT, Keith. If you even THINK about hurting Charlie, so help me--" Zimmerman waved his hand as if to shoo away a fly. "that doesn't compare, hank, he's your son. he's everything to you, sure, but it's not what a marriage is. settle down. unclench. what i am, some republic serial villian who's going to tell you to turn around, look at the ACWTron, and watch your son get kidnapped?" Wright's eyes flew open in horror as he turned around to face the ACWTron...only to see himself looking at himself, and Zimmerman standing placidly behind him with a borderline bored look on his face. "you should pay attention to the words that i say, hank. i said i wasn't a republic serial villian." The crowd erupted in a fresh round of boos as Wright spun back and shoved Keith ass over teakettle, sending the Black Scorpion down on his belly. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, KEITH!? You think it's funny to--" "the same thing that's wrong with you right now. you thought you lost everything and you had a justifiable reaction to it." said Zimmerman from the canvas. He was making no effort to get up at all. "that's the difference between us, hank, you THOUGHT you lost everything. I DID. and to be really honest? i don't need to kidnap Charlie. not even a little bit. you're ruining his life just fine on his own." The crowd oohed and Hank clenched the microphone trying to quell the sudden surges of anger that rushed through him. "So help me God, if his name comes out of your mouth again..." "god is dead and no one cares, hank. what i'm thinking is, another kid from a broken home. his mom, his life, on the other side of the country. all the first times of his life you missed so you could be king shitkicker of who gives a fuck mountain. you think you beating a septugenarian and reliving cobain days at Legends fixes that?" "Shut up, Keith." "you really think you giving him a day or two here or there is going to make up for the weeks and months you're off on the other side of the world bleating for these sheep?" "SHUT UP, Keith." "i'll shut up when i quit being right, which isn't right now, because to use an axiom, your son is in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you love him and you might even still love your ex-wife but at the end of the day you love this more. you love wrestling more. you love fighting more. after recovering from your wayward ways you NEED these people's support and that is the love of your life. and meanwhile he gets older and older. but dad doesn't stop. that's why he's the tank, no? and he gets older. and by the time you want to quit -- or more likely, your body breaks down and quits on you -- he's got his own life. he needs you more than ever right now. and...? you're in a different part of the world and a different time of the year to excoriate me. see, that's what had me confused." Keith stood back up at this point with a MILESwide smile on his face. "i thought you came for the scorpion. it was the logical assumption. but ever since legends charlie looks up to you as a champion. and you don't actually need a belt to do that. you just have to be...well, this version of you. but what scares you is you KNOW i'm right. and that's what you're really fighting hank. you're fighting your worried assumptions of the future because you've seen them play out in thousands of locker rooms. you know one day you're going to have to make a choice, and it might not be him, and if you DON'T pick him, if you stay here on the island of misfit toys, 2028 is going to come smack you upside the head, and your precious beautiful little boy? why, hell. he isn't going to end up a wright. he will end up just like me." Zimmerman's face hardened. "he will end up a selfish, self-loathinggggggggggggg--" And that was as far as he got. Hank's hands wrapped around his neck and the crowd cheered -- not as much as you might expect -- as he choked the very life out of Zimmerman, wild-eyed fury all over his face. And Keith Scott Zimmerman's face slowly turned blue. And Hank kept choking him. And Keith's eyes began to close. And the smile never left his face. The security force came out and got into the ring, pulling Hank off of Keith as Wright's eyes were still bulging out of his head and he swore bloody murder against the [black] Scorpion's owner. It took 20 seconds to get him out of the ring, with Hank pointing at Keith and screaming at the top of his lungs. "REVIVAL, KEITH! I'M GOING TO END YOU! YOU HEAR ME!? END YOU!" Zimmerman coughed and sputtered as he lay against the canvas, laughing. He rolled over onto his stomach and crawled towards the nearest microphone. He cradled it on the side and put his mouth by it, coughing loudly and cackling. "hyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyypoooooooooooooooooorrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitteeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! ahahahahacck*coughcoughcough*" Hank took two steps towards the ring and a sudden horrible realization stopped him dead in his tracks. Keith Scott Zimmerman lay in the ring, coughing more, but seated like the nicest kindergardner you'd ever want to meet. And right before he fell back on his side? He waved at Hank and gave him a thumbs up. He lay on his side with his hand running over his still-bald head, chuckling. The Governor just stared at the ring, shaking his head. His mouth opened and then closed, and did so again. His arm came up a little bit to gesture at the sputtering Zimmerman, but in the next moment Hank Wright turned on his heel and stomped angrily up the rampway. With all the thoughts flying through his head, it all came down to one word only the closest security guard could hear. "Hell." Back at ringside, Zimmerman's feet touched the floor as he continued to cough. Then he began to laugh, a raspy mongrel of a chuckle as he leaned back against the apron with a sick smile across his mouth. He balanced his hands against his knees, eyes rolling. He slowly turned to his left, noticing the camera filming him. "hi there." More hard breathing. Another gasp of a laugh. "the time has come...to push the button." Zimmerman leaned back against the apron to his full height now, smiling like a fiend-- --and then his face transformed into something stoic-- --and then malicious-- --and then he executed a neat little pair of spins, and suddenly had a member of the Party's hair right in his left hand. He grinned down over her like a feudal lord over a drunken peasant, eyes and grin threatening to saw his face into eighths. "so YOU'RE the future." "YOU LEAVE JENNIFER ALONE!" Zimmerman laughed, shook his head, then licked the side of her face and shuddered with a gleam on his jaw. "i'll say this: you can barely taste the despair. you know--" That was as far as he got, because the noise of the crowd alerted him. As it was, Zimmerman just barely had enough time to look up and see a blur of red-faced screaming making a beeline for his head with a chair. Discretion being the better part of valor and all those cliches, the reigning Scorpion dove underneath the ring and escaped the wrath of Orphan, who's bulging eyes and own heavy breathing told a story of it's own, loosely described as "I am going to jail tonight for the charge of murder because that fucking freak is dead." Quickly, he patted her hair back and looked at her in the eyes. "Are you okay?" The words came out in a rush. "Did he hurt you? DID HE?" The one who was once known as Millennia spoke, almost disoriented and distant in her voice. "No...I...I think I'm going to be okay. He--wha--" Orphan shook his head angrily while the rest of the Party surrounded their comrade, before their hero let out a roar and threw the chair smack into the post, where it made a meaty clang. On the other side of the ring, Zimmerman crawled out from underneath the apron and jumped the guardrail before landing safely in the second row, ignoring everyone around him yelling whatever curses they could muster. Orphan pointed at Keith, checked on Jennifer again, and shook his head. "You ignorant slime. I'm--" And suddenly, Zimmerman's index finger crooked forward. In Orphan's direction. But not AT Orphan. The smile at a full fiendish burn, Zimmerman seemed to tap something that didn't exist, was only air, was only a theory. But for Orphan, that was enough. Zimmerman let his hands fall besides him as he looked Orphan dead in the eyes, and declared the following. "boop!" And with another maniacal laugh, Keith Scott Zimmerman was practically dancing up the stairs towards a concourse. After all, he still had a title to defend. And back at the ringside, four women and one very angry man were slowly coming to the realization that while the Fal'Cie was fighting to the marrow to salvage his past, the present -- crazy eyes and all -- was trying to devour them. ALL of them.
Andy Sharp and Spike Saunders vs. The Amazing Gabriel and Jack Harris
On the last edition of Courage, the main event saw Andy Sharp take on The Night Life's fearless leader, The Amazing Gabriel did battle in their ongoing feud. Much to the shock of the crowd, The Amazing Gabriel had defeated Andy Sharp clean in the middle of the ring, upsetting Mr. All-Star. He took a beating after the match, but The Amazing Gabriel had been the victor that night, both in a moral sense and in a victorious one.Now that some time had been removed from that match, tonight's match would pit two brewing feuds together with The Amazing Gabriel purchasing the services of the hired gun Jack Harris against the team of Andy Sharp and Spike Saunders. And with that having been said... take it away, Mr. Tommy Vale! “The following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall!” Green strobe lights. Darkened arena. Can I get some music, please? “War” by Sick Puppies. And when the first drums hit the arena, the fans went BONZO GONZO for the man parting the curtains. The crowd reaction still had some boos among the cheers, but the man called Mr. All-Star didn't let that get to him as he made his way towards the ring. “First, making his way to the ring, from Montreal, Quebec, Canada... weighing in at 246 pounds... he is “MR. ALL-STAR” ANDY SHARP!” Andy Sharp made his way to the ring and made the slow march. He had a lot to let sink in as he had been downright played and mentally defeated by The Amazing Gabriel. Their feud was starting to get real personal real quickly and couldn't let that get to him any longer. Tonight was a new night and he would get some retribution soon enough if he had his way. Andy entered the ring and stood on the turnbuckles, looking out to the sea of fans. He then jumped off the turnbuckle and waited for his tag team partner. “SPIKE-IT-UP!” The KISS remix hit the speakers and the curtains parted once more, giving way to Andy's gargantuan tag team partner. The man that had started to play a mentor to some of the younger roster members lately took in a tremendous reception from the crowd. “And his tag team partner... from Beverly Hills, Calfornia... standing over seven feet tall and weighing in at 317 pounds... this is ”THE COLOSSUS” SPIKE SAUNDERS!” The Colossus himself started walking towards the ring, high fiving a few fans on his way to the ring. He stopped at the ring and stepped onto the apron before climbing over the ropes with ease. He and Andy Sharp shook hands and started to talk strategy with one another for their opponents. The Amazing Gabriel was a very intelligent man behind the bravado and Jack Harris was as dangerous as they come. They would need to keep on their game. “Self vs. Self” by Pendulum feat. In Flames. The horrid mash-up of rock and techno stylings hit the speakers next and the crowd started to boo to their hearts content for the leader of the Night Life. With the lovely Elyse Frost on his arm with a nice little “I <3 Gaby Bear” sleeveless low-cut shirt and a microskirt – emphasis on the MICRO – the object of Andy Sharp's ire made his way out and behind him, the pierced monster and new hitman for hire made his way to the ring as well, not taking his eyes off him. “And their opponents... at a combined weight of 518 pounds, being accompanied to the ring by Elyse Frost... the team of ”THE UNIT” JACK HARRIS AND THE AMAZING GABRIEL!” The Amazing Gabriel gave a little peck on the cheek to Elyse, then waved at Andy Sharp. Sharp had to be restrained by Saunders while The Amazing Gabriel and Jack Harris looked at their opponents. The two as had been stated before, were both very dangerous in their own rights. DING DING DING! The match was going to start off Andy Sharp, ready and waiting to get his hands on The Amazing Gabriel. The Ringleader and Mr. All-Star took a moment to circle up in the middle of the ring before Andy went in... AND GABRIEL MOVED! He walked over and tagged in Jack Harris before climbing out of the ring. The crowd booed the Night Life's leader, but he laughed them off. “Gotta earn your way into a rematch with me, Andy boy! Gotta prove yourself! Go get 'im, big man!” Jack Harris smiled. He couldn't have been too happy that he blamed Andy for the slow downfall of his former cash cow in the Cabal and wanted to exercise some of his frustrations on Mr. All-Star. Andy Sharp showed no signs of trepidation even in the face of The Chancellor of Excellence as he towered over Andy by several inches and about over forty pounds. The Unit went on the attack quickly and backed Andy into the corner, firing off a barrage of vicious right hands to the former two-time ACW World Heavyweight Champion. He continued to dish out some of the blows to Andy and threw some knees in for good measure to Mr. All-Star before looking over at Spike Saunders and blowing him a kiss just to be a dick. Saunders was too smart to let Jack Harris goad him into anything, but Harris continued to go to town on Andy in the corner with some more big rights. After being ordered by referee Tomaz Heinreich to get out of the corner or risk a disqualification, Harris fired Andy cross-corner. When Andy hit the corner, Harris came charging in and crushed him with a big Corner Clothesline. The impact shook up Sharp as he slumped over. The Unit was all smiles right now as he whipped Andy Sharp back to the other side, keen on repeating the second clothesline in the corner. Well, Andy was a little bit smarter than that and he jumped in the air, connecting with a big kick to the face of Harris. The hired gun was stunned and backed up a couple steps as Andy ran off the ropes and tackled him to the ground with a big Thesz Press! He laid in the heavy rights to Harris and took the fight to the giant before he leaped back to his feet with the crowd (mostly) cheering him on. The former two-time champion charged at Harris, but The Unit grabbed Andy by the throat and had evil intentions. Sharp threw a couple of elbows for good measure to get the big man to let go and jumped into the air and KNOCKED him nearly the hell out with one HELL of a Standing Dropkick! The big man went down and Andy ran the ropes, coming back and cracking Jack Harris in the top of the head with a Flying Elbow Smash! ONE! TWO... NO! Harris with a big kickout at two. Andy waited for him to get back to his feet as The Amazing Gabriel tried to distract Andy. Mr. All-Star wasn't having any of that shit and grabbed him by the arm and THREW him clean over the ropes! He beat the hell out of TAG with some hard rights, but didn't see Harris coming, catching him HARD in the face with a nasty Big Boot! The Amazing Gabriel got the hell out of the ring and back to the safety of the ring apron where he climbed ack and held on the tag rope. After doing a cross of his heart, the man who promised to play fair as of last week watched as Harris muscled Sharp to his feet. He picked him up and grabbed by the arm, but Andy had the arm coming and stunned the giant with a hard thrust kick to the gut. He glared at TAG before running off the ropes... WHIRLWIND BACKBREAKER! The downright DEVASTATING backbreaker by Jack Harris caught Andy Sharp in mid-air and spun him around before dropping him down violently across his knee. The Man in Demand was on a roll now and tagged over to The Amazing Gabriel, who was now proud to get back into the ring and face the weakened Andy. Saunders showed concern for his partner as The Amazing Gabriel put the boots to Andy Sharp quickly, kicking him while he was down on his knees. He turned Andy around and took him over with a Snapmare before delivering a hard Soccer Kick to the back! Sharp was in pain now and The Amazing Gabriel put him down with a trio of Elbow Drops to the chest. Once he was done with that, he tossed Andy off to the corner and charged forward, connecting with a Flying Body Press! Gabriel sailed gracefully over the ropes and out to the apron while Sharp fell to his knees in pain. The Amazing Gabriel was poised and ready to attack when Sharp got back to his feet, catching him with a Flying European Uppercut to the chin! TAG went for a quick cover. ONE! TWO! NO! Sharp fired a shoulder up off the mat. The Amazing Gabriel was still pretty calm when he grabbed Sharp by the head and pulled him over to the corner where he tagged in Harris once more. He held Sharp in place so The Unit could throw a big kick right into his exposed ribs. When Harris tried to follow up his attack, Sharp caught him with a couple of big rights under the chin, but Harris stunned him with one wicked Uppercut that KTFOed the former two-time Spirit and World Heavyweight Champion. Instead of going for a cover, Harris turned around and smiled. “THIS IS GONNA BE YOU, BOYO!” He yelled, pointed down at the fallen Andy. But what he didn't see was Andy getting his bearings, trying to surprise the big man with a Schoolboy pin! ONE! TWO! NO! Harris kicked out and when he got to his feet first, he made Sharp pay with another big knee to the gut. He grabbed him by the head and TOSSED him clear over the ropes, sending Mr. All-Star crashing to the floor. Sharp was having a hard time getting back to his feet when The Amazing Gabriel went to the ringside floor and CONNECTED with a vicious HAAKEN kick to the face while Sharp was down. The referee had been distracted with Harris in the middle of the ring to see what was going on, but that didn't stop the 7'3” Saunders from climbing down from his side of the ring to come over and chase TAG away. The damage had been done, though, and Sharp was easy prey for The Unit to come back outside and toss him hard into the announce table. Sharp was easy pickings for the big man as he grabbed Sharp by both arms and underhooked them before driving a couple of knees upwards into the chest and head. He pulled him up and over with a BIG Double Underhook Suplex! With him down, Jack Harris tagged in The Amazing Gabriel again. Despite his cheap tactic just moments ago, he was keeping it pretty clean in the ring, throwing a couple of hard Knife-edge Chops to the chest and doubling him over with a Low Spinning Roundhouse to the gut. With Sharp doubled over, The Amazing Gabriel grabbed him by the back of the head and turned him around, DRIVING him to the ground with a nasty Hangman's Neckbreaker! The Amazing Gabriel kipped to his feet and smiled to the crowd. “I love you all! I mean it from the deepest regions of my big, giving heart!” Elyse Frost cheered on her man as he turned over and hooked the leg of Andy Sharp. ONE! TWO! THR... NO! Andy kicked out again. The Amazing Gabriel didn't look that pleased, but decided to lay more boots into him a little bit more. Sharp rolled away from him and tried making the tag to big Spike Saunders who was ready and waiting. Instead, The Amazing One grabbed him by the back of the head and pulled him away from the corner. He pulled Sharp to his feet, but Mr. All-Star was still in the game and fired off a couple of big-time right hands to the face. Sharp ran the ropes and tried taking his head off with a Lariat, but The Amazing Gabriel ducked and when he came back, he caught him and spun Sharp around before DRIVING him into the ground with the Blue Thunder Powerbomb that he called the LED! He stayed in position and hooked the leg of Andy. ONE! TWO! THR... KICK OUT! Sharp kicked out of the big-time power move of The Amazing One, which had him shocked. He turned Andy over and dropped a couple of elbows into the top of his head. He turned him around and went looking for a second neckbreaker, but Sharp turned it around and trapped him in a Rolling Leg Cradle pin! ONE! TWO! THR... NO! The Amazing Gabriel escaped the surprise pinfall quickly and doubled Andy over with a hard kick aimed at the chest to keep him from doing any more damage. He grabbed Sharp by the leg and pulled him back again to the corner so he could tag in Jack Harris. The big man stepped over the ropes and dropped a big elbow across the small of Sharp's back before raining down some hard and heavy blows to the back of the neck and head. Saunders was now itching to get into the ring as Harris and TAG had worked very well together in keeping him from even getting involved in the match so far. The crowd booed The Unit, but he told them kindly to perform sexual congress upon their own persons (I cleaned it up as best I could) before pulling Sharp up and burying a couple of big rights to the exposed ribs. He sent Andy careening chest-first into the buckles and smashed him face-first into the turnbuckle before he turned him around and burying a couple more nasty shots to the back. Harris backed up a few feet and took his time taunting the crowd before he went charging in... FLYING YAKUZA KICK! He gave Andy Sharp a little bit too much time to save himself from his particular situation and he made him pay for it with one HELL of his version of the Roderick Strong Sick Kick! The shot was brutal enough to knock Harris down and gave Sharp the opening to make it over to his corner... Harris tagged into The Amazing Gabriel, who quickly jumped over the ropes... TAG TO SPIKE SAUNDERS! The Amazing Gabriel stopped in his tracks and may have nearly shit his britches when he came face to face with the Colossus. But he beat Andy Sharp last week. In his mind, he could do anything including take down a man more than foot taller than him. Well, Spike's big fist thought differently and knocked The Amazing One right down on his ass! The Night Life's fearless leader stumbled back to his feet and Saunders' big right elbow caught him in the face, knocking him down a second time. When Gabriel got back to his feet, he grabbed him by the body and turned him up and over into a big Tilt-A-Whirl Powerslam! The ring shook from the impact and the fans were coming out of their seats for Spike Saunders as he cheered for the crowd. He beat his chest a few times and this time didn't wait for The Amazing Gabriel to get up. He pulled The Ringleader back to his feet and shot him off to the corner. Spike Saunders charged at The Amazing One, but Harris was back to his feet and pulled his benefactor out of the corner, letting Saunders hit nothing but the corner. Harris tagged himself into the match and finally came face to face with the big man, wailing on him with a series of big-time right hands to the head. He fired off a big barrage of knees and punches to the chest of Saunders in the corner, trying to wear down the big man. He grabbed him in the center of the ring and tried setting him up for some Wrist-Clutch style maneuver, but Saunders elbowed his way out and pushed him back to the ropes. When Harris came back into his grip, he grabbed him by the body... CHOKESLAM! Saunders DRILLED Jack Harris into the mat and hooked the far leg as the fans counted along with him. ONE! TWO! THR... NO! Harris actually kicked out, to the surprise of Saunders. The hired gun was clearly no pushover, though, and Saunders was ready to go back on the attack again. He charged and got Jack Harris doubled over for some sort of a powerbomb maneuver, but The Amazing Gabriel caught him with a hard kick to the leg. ENZUIGIRI! Andy Sharp came back into the fray just in time and clipped The Amazing Gabriel with a hell of a Running Enzuigiri kick, sending The Amazing One out of the ring. The path was clear as as it would be as Saunders balled up a big fist... BOOM! HEADSHOT! The massive right hand that doled out an injury to Tyson XL for at least a good week had just connected to the temple of Jack Harris. The big man slumped over, but Spike kept hold.... SPIKED! That move did it! Spike Saunders' version of the F-5 drove Jack Harris down and out in the middle of the ring and The Colossus wasted no time putting all his body weight into the cover, holding a limp leg up in the process. ONE! TWO! THREE! The fans cheered along with Spike Saunders and Andy Sharp as the two men had their arms raised by Tomaz Heinreich. The team of The Amazing Gabriel and Jack Harris had been just as formidable, dominating most of the match, but when Spike Saunders got going, the Colossus could not be stopped on this night. “HERE ARE YOUR WINNERS OF THE MATCH... ANDY SHARP AND SPIKE SAUNDERS! Harris was still down and out, staring up at the ceiling lights while The Amazing Gabriel was nursing a throbbing skull on his way back up the ramp. He didn't take his eyes off Andy Sharp the whole way that he and Elyse Frost were headed back up the ramp. “YOU DIDN'T PIN ME, SHARP! I'M STILL BETTER THAN YOU!” He yelled, not letting him forget the result of their match last week. But for tonight, Sharp and Saunders were on the winning end and it was clear that tonight's match-up resolved nothing between the four men here tonight.
WINNER: Sharp and Saunders
A Rib for a Rib....
The camera catches Jimmy Gonze in his street clothes walking toward the locker room. Jimmy acts oblivious to the crew following him as he whistles an old Irish tune and walks with a spring in his step. As he nears the locker room, he says aloud."Hopefully he's got the point and packed his shit up." No doubt the interaction a while ago in the locker room is still fresh in his mind. Gonze had pulled a funny rib on the new guy, but it wasn't for fun. This was to make a point that the victory he earned on the last show was just the start and Hopper's time is over. He opened the door to the locker room and walked in. "I knew it." The camera quickly moved into the room behind him and we see the are aHopper has usually used in every visited locker room wide open. Nothing in sight. The suitcase is sitting in the center of the locker room. Jimmy looks around to see if he is alone and decides to take a closer look. He walks to the suitcase and grabs it. "Fucker's heavy." He mutters the words as he lifts the suitcase onto the bench. He grabs the zipper and peals it back with a loud ripping noise. Jimmy pauses to make sure nobody heard it...then continues his inspection. He pulls out a shirt and holds it up. It is a shirt much like the one he is wearing. "I may have misjudged the fellah's choice in clothing." He pulls a few more articles out and the expression on his face changes. His anger begins showing through as he pulls out a picture and it was of himself! "Son of a bitch!" Gonze rushes to his locker and opens it...to find nothing. It is empty. Actually it is cleaner than the day before when he packed his stuff inside. The only thing inside his locker is a small note, which reads... "Gonzo, I took your advice and packed the belongings of the man who will not be around after Revival. I hope my folding techniques were passable, but I'm a wrestler...not a chambermaid. Here is your stuff and I wouldn't bother unpacking it anytime soon. Thanks for the great warm-up in my ACW career. Yours in victory, Chris Hopper" Gonze slams the door of the locker shut and grabs the suitcase, obviously enraged. He storms out of the locker room and walks up the hall way. The camera watches him bang his way through another set of doors lugging that heavy suitcase. The moment the doors close, laughter rings out. The camera turns to show "Too Cool" Chris Hopper standing with many different wrestlers in the ACW roster watching it all unfold. They are all cracking up at Gonze's reaction and Hopper turns to the group. "He told me to pack the loser's stuff. I just did as he requested." The group erupts in laughter again as they start walking toward the now-empty locker room. Some of the boys reaching out and high fiving Hopper as the trade chuckles. The group enters the locker room as the screen fades out.
[black] Scorpion Championship: Kenjiro Ito v. Keith Scott Zimmerman
Before this descends into anarchy, violence, and chaos -- and it's going to, since this is a championship match for the (black) Scorpion and everything -- first up?For those about to Party Rock? We salute you. With Shots! The ubiquitously catchy LMFAO/Lil' Jon track brought out a conflicted Kenjiro Ito, the second member of the Dynasty to part the curtains on the evening. The first one, his progeny, had been dropped like third period French at the hands of Orphan's killjoy (and yes, you read that correctly). So there was going to be no backup for him in the usual manner. And now, going into the biggest match of his career in years he sneered at the audience and spat on the ground before making the motion of a championship around his waist and marched down to the ring. Just keep the freak down for 20, went the voice in his head. 20's all we need. Just because nobody else has done it yet doesn't mean I can't. Parting the ring ropes the Bad Will Ambassador put his hands in the air but the shiftiness in his eyes betrayed his posture. He knew to expect something bad, given what'd just happened and what'd been happening all night. He just didn't know what. "C'mon, you morons! Clap it up!" It would've been a more effective taunt had his voice not cracked midway through it. He shook his head and tried to make it look more menancing than self-disgusted, and waited. He wouldn't have to long. In order not to look at the ACWTron when the guitar started, he bent down to tighten up his bootlaces. Ephemeral guitar. And a metric fuckton of booing. Everybody knew by now what Everlast's "So Long" meant. It meant the fourth circle of Hell had opened up. It meant watching a beautiful woman get destroyed, interrupted for flash cuts of careers being ended and necks getting snapped like kindling. It meant the [black] Scorpion champion was coming down to continue his reign of terror. So far tonight the list had encompassed in the arena alone Hank Wright, the Party, and the man the titleholder (derisively?) referred to as Seymorphan. And as Keith Scott Zimmerman strolled out with the cursed title around his neck, the look on his face was completely fixed and focused. So with tears in his eye
He read Catcher In the Rye
And told his old man he went huntin'... Like Orphan hadn't almost ended him or like Hank hadn't nearly choked him into unconsciousness not even 10 minutes ago. Ito met Zimmerman's stare, but only momentarily on his end; Keith's stayed in place. And with a sadist's grin, Zimmerman finally broke his fugue and walked briskly down to ringside. The cameraman panned up from underneath Keith, looking up towards where the championship was, only to be sent scrambling and falling ass over teakettle when Keith rushed suddenly in his direction feinting at an attack. Shaking his head and smiling wryly, Zimmerman began to walk up the stairs, only to see another cameraman covering for the first one and jump off in his direction and threaten him with a round of wild-eyed gibberish. What the audience saw was a crazy man yelling and screaming; what Kenjiro Ito saw was an opportunity. Shooing Anders the referee aside, Ito bounced off the ropes into a baseball slide, and Zimmerman pivoted as he heard the movement. Zimmerman grabbed the apron skirt with both hands and pulled it towards him, and Ito's baseball slide didn't catch the champion in the face but rather landed him on the floor. KSZ moved in to trap his quarry and then once he had Ito's back against the bare apron starting going to work. SPLAT! The European uppercut jacked the Japanese man's jaw, and Keith was far closer on the "just getting warm" end of the ledger than "letting this end". SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! Keith's eyes widended in malevolent glee as the bell finally sounded to ring the match in officially. He reached up to grab the (black) Scorpion championship from around his neck and give it to newcomer zebra Evan Anders. Oh, wait. BELT SHOT! No, he didn't. The damned championship smashed right into Ito's skull with a full-force blast across the forehead, slumping the challenger over the ring apron's skirt. The match had barely begun, and in the dismayed eyes of the audience it was practically over already. Whatever hurricanes that were circling Keith Scott Zimmerman evidenced moments ago weren't going to act as a distraction, it seemed. They were just going to spur him on. "kennnnnnnnnnnnnnnyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy" intoned the champion grimly. "sacrifices to be made! flesh to be devoured! oh, my tainted beauty, she is a hungry mistress!" Ito's eyes rolled around in his head, and he brought up his head in order to...well, what he had intended to do didn't matter one shit, because the moment Keith saw his head pull up he took a corner of the tainted straps that'd been embossed with barbed wire and raked it across the forehead, smiling a fiend's grin as he did so. Ito's scream was easily heard as the wire tore apart his skin, and after a few seconds Zimmerman dropped the belt and gently put the straps behind the faceplates and gave it a resting home on the apron. It almost distracted from the fact that thanks to his efforts the clarin was already flowing down under. And, of course, ACW's resident sadist wasn't done yet. Grabbing Ito by the hair he disengaged him from the skirt before grabbing him by the back of the head and throwing him head-first into the steel post on the outside. CLANG! The crowd hissed and winced in sympathy (for an Ito, no less) as the force of the blow dropped Ito to his knees. Disoriented as he was he knew he had to keep moving, try and do something to stem the tide. Crawling on his hands and knees as Zimmerman walked behind him, Zimmerman clucking his tongue the whole time. "kenny, you disappoint me. in so, so, SO many ways," he chided. "and yet...and yet..." He grabbed Ito by the back of the head and pulled him up towards the announce table. "i have a use for you anyhow. so PROST!" And with that, he slammed Kenjiro's bloody face into the top of the announce table. "SHOTS! *thump* SHOTS! *thump* SHOTS! *thump* SHOT-SHOT-SHOT *thump thump thump* SHOTS! *thump* EVERYBODAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY~!" With a look of disgust, he let Ito slump to the floor as he glared out at the booing audience and didn't look at a single one of them. "that song," he muttered under his breath. "that fucking song...that's the sort of thing that can drive a man crazy." Reaching up to his own untarnished forehead, Zimmerman threw Ito into the ring and blood quickly daubed the canvas. Ito was struggling mightily, but managed to get almost all the way up to his feDEATH BLOW! The crowd gasped in shock as the Roaring Elbow slammed into the back of Ito's head with a meaty SMACK that could be heard in the fourteenth row, blood and spit flying out of his mouth before he melted into the canvas below an absolutely seeting Zimmerman, who's gaze quickly found the new referee. He snapped his fingers and pointed downwards, then ceded center stage. A little ruffled, Anders began to make the count. While he was an unbiased if slightly horrified observer, Evan was wondering why he was even bothering. Zimmerman hung back as the count got up to seven. Then eight. (You know how these things progress.) Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirte--and however groggily, Kenjiro Ito had beaten the count and gotten to his feet. He was swinging wildly and unsteady on his feet but he wasn't done just yet. Zimmerman's look internationally translated to Not Pleased. "kenny, you should reyeaaaaaaaaagrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!" And just like that, under a curtain of blood, Kenjiro Ito's thumb shot out and jammed right up into Zimmerman's eye. It was a great way for him to get seperation but if he was truly going to start stemming the tide he was going to need more than that. Oh, like he didn't know that. THWACK! BAKEMONO LARIATTTTTTTTTTTTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~! From the left side, right into Keith's ugly bald mug, and all impact. Both Ito and Zimmerman were sprawled on the canvas, and a count was on. With Ito's blood loss the pressure was on him to come up and stay in the fight. At the count of eight, he did just that, though the effort of getting to his feet started more blood spilling down his face. And as for Keith? Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Ito worried about the count. While he knew he'd gotten all of the lariat, he also knew there were only X amount of chances for a man to put a champion away, let alone one as unstable as Keith had been for the past couple of months. Besides, why even give this nut a spot of breathing room when he could hoist him up to drop the biggest weapon in his arsenal and end this match with the title in his blood-soaked hands? Ito walked over at fourteen, reaching down to ensare Keith in a hFUCK YOU, KIP-UP HURACANRANA. The crowd gasped in shock at Zimmerman's athleticism. Or the fact he'd never pulled out a move like that on ACW air. Or both. And tragically for them and Kenjiro Ito, things were damn sure going to get worse before they got better. I'd like to welcome you to the magical land of MURDERDEATHKEITH! Forget Tinkers, Evans, and Chance; if you were watching an ACW broadcast and rooting for somebody/against Keith, THAT trio was the saddest of possible words to encounter. Chuckling grimly as he lay on his stomach, Keith got up and moved towards a neutral corner before feigning falling asleep against a top turnbuckle. While the crowd jeered him even louder, as Anders' count progressed it appeared the leg lariat stiffer than a fourteen-year-old boy watching a April O'Neill marathon had done its duty and brought to an end Ito's title chances. The crowd exhorted him to get up and fight but the farm had been bought. Eleven. Twelve. THIRTEEN. FOURTEEEN. Or had it? SMACK! RUAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH~! And now, since he wasn't paying attention and had his eyes closed in the corner with an opponent who was only mostly dead instead of all the way dead, it is now my distinct honor to welcome Keith Scott Zimmerman to the magical land of FLASH FROZEN! Zimmerman's eyes briefly flashed shock before he dropped to the canvas off of the corner Yakuza kick from Ito, who was still hanging on to the top rope to keep himself upright to stay alive. "Count him!" yelled Kenjiro, who staggered away from Keith. The upset was brewing, and the crowd's voices got louder as the count went higher; now at eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. And the champion was up. And he was maaaaaaaaaaaaaad! "kenny, you stupid bastard! i--" and with that Keith charged, and Ito threw him up in the air. He was going for a alley-ooped Ace Crusher, but Keith came down and slammed a forearm in the back of his head on the way down to exacerbate his bloody situation. Landing on a knee behind him, Keith pushed Ito into the ropes, then ran into them himself. REBOUND RISING PALM STRI, no, Ito grabbed Keith's outstretched arm before he could connect and tried to leverage him down into a Fujiwara armbar, only for Keith to execute a forward roll. However, Ito still had a grip on him and flung him hard into the ropes. DIVING SHOULDER--Keith ducked, and rolled through, and off the opposite ropes to smash Ito in the face--eep. URAKURAKEN and Ito was coming off the ropes and Keith elevated about a second before Kenjiro did SPLAAAAAAAAAAACK! The crowd oohed in disgust yet again as both men connected with flying crossbodies, and then went down in a heap in the middle of the ring. John Woo would've been proud. Evan Anders checked on both men -- their respective groaning signifying that neither had put out the other -- and with that done, set to make the count. Remember: Keith has to be down for a 20 to lose the belt, while a mere 15 keeps it in his grubby paws. Kenjiro, wincing the entire time, crawled away from Keith and towards the ropes. Zimmerman coughed and moaned in pain, but an occassional chuckle could be heard. Twelve. Thirteen. C'mon Kenjiro. Fourteen. And Ito's up! FIFTEEN! The crowd gave a decent pop while Kenjiro put a fist quickly in the air. He then drew himself all the way up without assistance, while the count went up to sixteen. Zimmerman's eyes rolled as Kenjiro waved Andrews away. This time? This time, he was going to be damned if anything or any sideshow freak was going to stop the Dynasty from getting theirs. Up goes Keith. Down goes Keith. SPLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT~! RUAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH~! Keith Scott Zimmerman? Welcome to the ICE AGE. Ito smiled a grin, not Zimmerfiendish but close. "And that will be the end of you. Close him out," he barked to Anders. The cross-armed high angle sitout powerbomb had left Zimmerman a grease spot on the L&N, and now the only question was had it left him one long enough for his tyranny to meet an end. Let's see. Evan? THIRTEEN. FOURTEEN. FIFTEEN. Ito smiled. SIXTEkeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnnnyEN. SEVEkeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnnnnyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyNTEEN. Ito looked down. Zimmerman...was smiling. EIGHTEEkeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!N. "I win?" When Kenjiro started that sentence, it was meant to end with an exclamation point. When he saw every single tooth in Zimmerman's mouth, it didn't. NINETEEN. "hm. nah." TWENKIP-UP. "and they worshipped the beast, saying 'who is like the beast? WHO CAN MAKE WAR WITH HIM?!'" yelled Zimmerman in Ito's face. Kenjiro and the crowd deflated instantly; he'd taken Ito's best shot and virtually laughed it off. Ito's mouth hung slack. Zimmerman's mouth shut in a rictus and he shook his head. "kennihanna." He patted him on the shoulder. "TOO BAD YOU GOT COCKY!" Eyes ablaze, Keith immediately punted Ito in the groin and looked down with a shark's grin as Ito began to fall to his knees. Shaking his head, Keith hooked Ito's arms before falling back in a high impact basement snap double-arm DDT. With Ito dropped onto the mat, Keith rolled out of the ring whistling a jaunty tune and lifting up the apron skirt that'd been so beneficial to him earlier. "it's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day in the neighborhood. could you be miiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnneeeeeeeeeeeeeeee?" And with that, he pulled out a small trolley, almost a child's wagon. However, it was far from it, and the crowd began to buzz and then stand as Keith reached into it, and pulled out a pane of glass!??!? He held it overhead, admiring it and his reflection. "WOULD you be minnnnnnne?" He looked at the glass. "really?" Back at the glass. "but i might hurt him!" Back at the glass. "wow. you are a sick, twisted bastard. but i can work with you!" Zimmerman gingerly made it up the apron and then gently swung his arms east-west before delicately stepping forth into the ring where Kenjiro Ito heard a buzz as he struggled to get up. The buzz was people trying to warn him. They all failed. CRASH! His arms down, Ito was completely helpless as Zimmerman smashed the pane right over his head with as hearty a swing as the champion could muster. Ito's body twisted before righting itself into something closer to normality, but he fell on his ass and then down on his stomach lain to absolute waste. Zimmerman looked down at him, then looked up. The Party, to a woman, had their hands over their mouths and their eyes enlarged in horrified shock. While it was far from them, they were the only ones that Keith saw. With a little jig, Keith gave them the fingerpoint end of a hand gun. "don't be scared, little ladies! turn away now, you'll miss the encore!" Pointing his index directly at Jennifer, then pulling the trigger. Zimmerman rolled back to the floor, where he picked up a roll of duct tape that'd been inside the trolley, before rolling back into the ring and looking down and around. "no no no no no no ugh no dammnit no come on OOH! you i like. you i keep." He picked up a shard of glass as Evan stopped the count, and out of slashing distance, admonished Keith. "Not again! You're not going to stab him with that, Keith!" Zimmerman's face blankened. "fine by me." Andrews went back to check on Ito. He was so startled he'd forgotten where he was in the count. And with his back turned, Zimmerman taped down the shard of glass to his steel-toed boot and leaned back into the corner. Then charged.
SLASH!The crowd gasped in horror as the punt not only kicked Kenjiro in the side of the head, it slashed his face and another fat ribbon of blood dribbled out all over the canvas. Zimmerman came to a stop and leaned his arms against the ropes, staring out over at an audience (especially a cute foursome in the row right below him) that saw him as the inevitable historical rebirth of Lucifer. And Keith's response to this? "oh, my cthulhu, I KILLED KENNY! ME BASTARD! ahaahahahaahahaahahaahahhahaahahaahaahrmaewarahghghghghahahaahahaha XD!" Anders called for the bell and "So Long" came back on over the PA. Three title defenses. Three ruined lives. One ended career. And judging from the drool hanging loosely from Keith Scott Zimmerman's lips, possibly an erection over that set of facts. He glared down at the Party. "THAT, ladies, is a merciless judgment." He then turned to Evan. "you didn't count. i didn't even hear a one. you sure he's finished?" Evan stood up from where he'd been checking on Ito before signalling the EMTs and stood up to Zimmerman. "Keith, this is enough! You--" URAKEN. Zimmerman stood over Evan and reached down to grab him by the lapel. "next time, do your job properly." Keith took off the glass-enhanced boot, then the other one, and laid them around the referee's head before rolling out of the ring to snap and grab a chair. "since there is too much chlorine in this gene pool, allow me to be a skimmer." He slid into the ring, cutting himself a little bit on the glass, and grabbed Ito by the head. It was absolutely covered in blood, and he held up his limp carcass to the hard camera with a hunter's grin. "i think he looks cuter. LADIES?!" he yelled at the Party, a couple of whom were whimpering. "aw, c'mon. granted, his taste in music is horrible but you can change that! just like you changed seymorphan!" Still with Ito by the hair, he crawled out of the ring and held up Ito before them. "what's the matter?" The sound of vomiting was heard. "is he too tall? is that it? allow me to fix him with the obscenely expensive zimmerstraightener 57,000! it slices! it dices! it makes THOUSANDS of julienne fries!" He fitted the chair around the neck of Ito, and gave a sick but loving grin to the steel post. "why, in just 6 seconds, i can change your entire life!" Suddenly, out of the crowd, a hand stopped Zimmerman and the chair went down in a heap, as did Ito. Keith turned around, only to see Keiichi with a chair of his own. Bandaged from the earlier efforts of the Forgotten Son of ACW, he still had his chair cocked back ready to strike as he hopped the barrier and hit ringside to check on his fallen dad. Keith looked at the Party, then back at Keiichi. He then turned around. "EMTs! we need EMTs! this man's hurt!" A few medical pros, horrified by the nut in the ring, slowly parted the curtains and came down to ringside as Keiichi looked crestfallen checking on his fallen father. Zimmerman walked in his direction, Ito the Younger re-arming himself with the chair. "you tell your father..." Zimmerman leaned in, completely unafraid. "you tell him. either he changes that insipid song...or the next time i see him...i'm going to get violent." Keiichi stared at Keith in slack-jawed shock as Zimmerman walked right past him, ignored all the trash being thrown in his direction, and walked over to Tommy Vale -- or that vapor trail where Tommy'd been -- and picked up the (black) Scorpion and placed it gently around his neck. Zimmerman straightened to full height, and looked out at the crowd. They booed him louder than ever. And with that, Keith Scott Zimmerman gave them a MILESwide smile as So Long continued playing, EMTs wondering how much more this madman was going to make them work to earn their pay. I came to get down
I came to get dirty
I came to get even...
WINNER: Keith Scott Zimmerman by standing 15-count; retains [black] Scorpion Championship
Time for some beer...
The screen fades in and shows the locker room doors opening. The man who emerges from behind them is ACW superstar, Hank Wright. It has been one of those nights for Hank and he looks exactly as you would imagine a veteran would feel after a rough night in Australia. He walks out with his back slung over his shoulder and looks over toward the gorilla position.
"Hmmmm..."
Hank takes a really long look in that direction and the camera crew eventually swivel to find out what has his attention so fixed. We see "Too Cool" Chris Hopper talking to a kid in a wheel chair. The crew and Hank both begin moving toward them and we overhear the conversation.
"I've been in some tough scraps before, but nothing like what you're going through. I hope your surgery goes well and they get it all this time."
He gives the kid one of his personal Hopper T-shirts (on sale at ShopACW.com!) and the kid's face lights up with a smile.
"Thanks Mr. Hopper."
Chris smiles at him and pats him on the shoulder.
"Anytime kiddo. Don't worry, the champ will be with you soon. Backstage is kind of crazy, but Tyson always makes time for the important VIPs. Good luck!"
Chris again shakes hands with the kid and turns to leave, seeing Hank and the camera crew standing there. Hank has a stoic look on his face. Hopper automatically feels he must talk about what happened with the kid.
"He's waiting for Tyson to get back here and meet him for pictures and autographs. Figured I didn't have much to do, so I kept him company for awhile. Least I could do. This kid had a tumor between his heart and lung when he was four...and now he tells me that he has a tumor actually attached to his lung. Stuff like that just gets to me, I guess."
Hank shrugs in a "what can you do?" kind of gesture, but does begin conversing with Chris.
"Why can't someone like Zimmerman get that cancer?" Hank quipped.
"Probably because you did enough to him already, big guy," Hopper responded.
They share a chuckle thanks to Hopper's reply. They start walking toward the back door. There is a stagehand on the phone and as they pass him by, he can be heard loud and clear.
"I'm telling you I saw Freebo just a minute ago! He was buying a beer at the concession stand. Hell no, I'm not coming in..."
The voice trails off as the man walks the other direction. Hank and Hopper just look at each other and pause. Then Hank breaks the awkward silence of hearing the stagehand speaking.
"You know, I don't think I have ever seen someone turn the tables on a rib the way you did tonight on Gonze."
Chris grins.
"That was fun. The guy is tough, but his mouth never seems to stop. I figured if he was wanting to actually step it up a notch, I can go rib-for-rib with anybody. I've been around a long time."
Hank responds, "It is amazing how people forget just how much veterans like us have been through."
They both nod.
"You know Hank, it really is surprising that we've never crossed paths before. I've been in this business for sixteen years and I know I would have remembered an hombre like you beating people around the arena."
"It is kind of strange isn't it," Hank thoughtfully responded. "I spent a lot of time below the Mason-Dixon line though. It isn't that I never heard of you, but when people mentions a Hopper, the name was never Chris,"
Chris chuckles as he responds.
"Yeah, that guy has been around too. Ironic thing about that is we have NEVER faced off and aren't related in any way, shape or form. I just hope he at least does the name some justice."
Hank is silent. No confirmation or denial...just silence. So Chris presses.
"That bad, huh?"
Wright shakes his head negatively.
"Nah. But there are some things you need to do to make sure nobody puts the two of you in the same mold."
"Oh yeah?"
Wright nods and then slaps Chris on the right shoulder.
"Tell you what, there's a bar around the corner. I'll be happy to tell you all about it."
Chris nods.
"Fine by me! First round is on me."
Chris walks out of the door and Hank is behind him.
"That's why you're the King of Cool...free beer!"
We hear the laughing as the door shuts.
Handicap match: Tyson XL vs. The Locksmiths
Last week, Tyson XL had come to blows with the new #1 contender to his ACW World Heavyweight Championship, Omega. A mysterious source had fingered the world champion as the man that had stolen Barb away from the crazed Omega. And with Omega's dominant win last week over Dude in Mask and Fight Man, he cemented his status as #1 contender and would now be meeting Tyson XL at Revival with the championship on the line.This week, it was now Tyson XL's turn to take on two people in a two-on-one match and gain some momentum. Coming off over a big time victory over Spike Saunders a couple weeks ago in his first successful defense, Tyson was ready for action. The crowd then turned on their heads collectively again when the driving guitars of “Piece by Piece” by Strata hit the speakers. The red and blue lights started to pulsate throughout the arena as the big man came out from the back. With a grin on his face at least ten miles wide, the NEW ACW Heavyweight Champion looked to the ring. Despite his personal conflict with Omega, Tyson XL was all smiles as he held the ACW World Heavyweight Championship high over head. He walked down to the ring and leaped onto the apron, climbing between the ropes. He stepped on the top turnbuckle and raised his championship as high as he could, getting the Australian crowd in his control. The man called Heavy T was back inside the ring and waiting for his opponents. The two men that came out with no music. They were called Teddy Locke and Alistair Smith. The Locksmiths were on their way to the ring. No music, no fireworks, no frills. They were two bad me and despite a narrow loss against the Squadron last week, they were here to stay and they wanted some attention. Beating Tyson XL in a match, two-to-one or not, would be the ultimate way to get noticed. Locke and Smith nodded at each other before climbing into the ring while Tyson XL was focused on the task at hand. He waited in the corner while the two men decided who was going to be starting things off. And when Tyson XL was ready to kick things off, it appeared the match was going to be under tag team rules. Teddy Locke was going to be starting things off. Teddy wanted to lock up with the big man, but Tyson XL wasn't having any of that shit and hit Teddy with a BIG right hand that rocked him pretty viciously. Tyson XL punched him in the face several more times until he backed him into the corner. From there, he went right to work on Locke with a series of big shoulder tackles in the corner in an effort to drive the wind out of him early. He took a few moments to egg on the crowd as Tyson raised a fist in the air. He charged in for a corner clothesline, but Teddy got in a nasty forearm smash catching him underneath the chin. He had Tyson XL on the ropes and when he charged forward, he caught him and blasted Teddy with a big boot to the face that knocked Locke silly. He stumbled backwards into the corner and it would be Alastair Smith tagging himself into the ring now. He climbed in between the ropes and had his game face on while Tyson XL simply motioned for the submissionist to bring it. He locked up, but only got an elbow to the face from Tyson XL for his troubles before he got knocked backwards into another corner. Tyson XL went to work on Alastair Smith and punched him repeatedly in the face as the fans continued to cheer the big man. He fought back and waited back a few steps before running across the ring, flipping backwards with a handspring and connecting with a big back elbow in the corner. The fans were taken in with Tyson’s athleticism and when Alastair came stumbling towards him, he was caught… T-BONE SUPLEX~! The big time suplex sent him flying across the ring where Tyson went for a quick cover. 1… 2… But the Locksmiths were a very well-oiled machine as evidenced by their fight last week against the Squadron. Locke came to his partner’s rescue and stopped that from happening. He went back to his corner while Tyson XL picked up Smith off the mat. A quick arm wringer from Smith caught him in the face several times before he went to work on the arm. He pushed Tyson into the corner of his tag team partner, but before he could do anything, a big elbow from Tyson caught him in the mouth and a punch for Teddy on the apron stunned him. He saw Smith come charging at him and moved, sending him crashing hard into the turnbuckles. It appeared the ACW World Heavyweight Champion had all the momentum in the world… …but then the crowd booed. And that was simply because The Craziest Bastard in Wrestling was making his presence felt. Omega was smirking from ear to ear, staring at Tyson with his one good eye as he unfolded a chair and had a seat up at the entrance. He set the chair down and sat it in backwards, leaning forward as he appeared to be just as interested in what was happening right now. Tyson didn’t see the cheap shot from Alastair Smith coming and got caught in the back of the head with a hard elbow. He then went back into the corner and tagged in Teddy Locke, who was raring to go. He climbed in between the ropes and went right to work on Tyson as he sat up, clubbing him with hard forearm shots to the back of the head before grabbing his left arm and connecting with a double knee armbreaker. The ACW World Heavyweight Champion was in pain now and was being worked on by the two members of the Locksmiths at one time. He pushed Tyson back into the Locksmiths corner again and grabbed the arm, tying him up in a hammerlock and ramming him into the turnbuckles before twisting it around the ring ropes. Omega continued to look on with interest while Tyson XL was having damage inflicted on him by both members of the Locksmiths now. Locke tagged in Smith and whipped his own partner into Tyson with a hard running back elbow shot, then Locke followed it up with a nice running European uppercut in the corner. This got Tyson down long enough for him to attempt a cover. 1… 2…
But Tyson had made his career in ACW fighting in the most gruesome of settings. It’d take a little more than that to keep him down. Locke pulled him up by the arm again and kicked away at it a few times before attempting another Irish whip. This time, Tyson was ready for it and reversed it and caught Locke underneath the chin with a solid elbow. The ACW World Heavyweight Champion continued to pummel him a couple of times to elbows to the back of the head before tossing him across the ring into the corner. He smashed Locke’s head into the turnbuckle and looked out to the crowd. He looked at his open hand… CHOP~! And a nasty chop connected across the chest of Locke, whose chest was chopped red just after one shot. He let Locke have it with two more of the knife edge variety and went for another whip, but Locke thought fast and stopped himself by hanging onto the ropes. After catching Tyson in the mouth again, he walked over and tagged in Smith again. He tried whipping Tyson XL, but he reversed it. He telegraphed a back body drop too early and got kicked in the head for his troubles, then Alastair brought up a knee to the head of Tyson. Omega inched a little bit closer, still watching every move the ACW World Heavyweight Champion was making. Inside the ring, Tyson backed into the ropes, but a second shot to the head from Teddy Locke caught him. Tyson inched around and SOCKED Teddy Locke for his troubles, sending him flying off the apron. Smith tried taking advantage of the distraction, but Tyson booted him in the gut and caught him with a couple more big rights before tossing him across the ring. When he was set up, he ran full speed ahead and tried for another splash in the corner, but Smith moved. Tyson learned from his earlier mistake and stopped himself from crashing and fired off a back elbow into the head of Smith. “That title is mine, you thief.” Omega yelled from the entrance that he’d been watching intently. “Your blood will be spilt and I will enjoy every last drop of it.” Tyson could read lips and watched every word that the big man was saying. That’s why he didn’t’ see both Locksmitsh coming out of nowhere, catching him with a pair of kicks to the knee before dropping him down hard with a double reverse DDT! Omega continued to laugh while Alastair Smith went for the cover. 1… 2… But Tyson still had enough in the tank to kick out, which made Smith angry. Ignoring the referee’s calls for one of the men to get out of the ring, they whipped Tyson into the ropes and attempted a double clothesline. That missed, but the big flying CROSS BODY from the big man caught them both and bowled them over. Tyson rolled back to his feet and had Alastair Smith locked in his sights. He charged like a bull… RUNNING. TWISTING. SPEAR~! The very same move that Tyson XL had used to defeat Spike Saunders a few weeks ago just turned Alastair Smith inside out. Teddy Locke was trying to recover from the cross body he had taken only for Tyson to simply grab him by the head and straight toss him over the ropes where he landed on the floor in a bad way! With eyes locked back up at the #1 Contender to his ACW World Heavyweight Championship, he showed no emotion towards Omega and simply pointed his finger like a gun at Omega… then turned it on Alastair Smith. BANG. XL BOMB~! In one fluid motion following a kick to the gut, he was brought back down crashing hard to the mat with the gutwrench powerbomb in the style of Dr. Death. Locke was disposed of on the outside while Tyson hooked the legs of Smith, looking directly into the eye of Omega. 1… 2… 3! Despite the appearance of Omega to try and throw off Tyson XL, the ACW World Heavyweight Champion had used his sheer brute force to prevail. He had the title high over his head and laid it down for Omega to come and get to it. And what was Omega’s response to Tyson XL’s challenge? A grin. A sadistic grin. “I will get her back from you and I’ll take your title with her!” That was all Omega said before he disappeared from sight. More head games from the challenger, perhaps? No matter. AT least on this occasion, Tyson XL had stepped up to the plate and he raised the title hig over his head again to celebrate with the fans. But kept one eye open. There was no telling where Omega was going to lurk next.
WINNER: Tyson XL via pinfall
Happy New Year.... Cunts
*zap**zap**zap* *zap*
*zap*
*zap* *zap**zap**zap**zap**zap**zap**zap* "Hello.... is this fucking thing on?" The big fugly face of Khristain Keller graces your screen. LUCKY YOU EH? "From all of us, at All-Star Championship Wrestling, currently in this sweatbox of a cuntry, we would like to wish you a happy holidays, and a happy New Year. Oh... and enjoy this place while you can, because I've got it on my iPhone calendar as a reminder." Keller pulled his phone from his pocket and whizzed through to a reminder on his appointments, before placing it up to the camera. It only contained two words... but that was all he needed. DESTROY ACW. "Happy New Year!"
|