|
LIVE!
on Sunday 23rd March
From New Orleans
PREVIOUSLY... The
road from Legends had
left many of ACW's stars
in a daze about their
future's. Many seemed
daunted by the pressures
upon which the new
regime were placing upon
them, but now as the new
staff seems to have
pulled the best of the
roster through. ACW's
drive to the top now
takes a pit stop in New
Jersey, where ties will
be ended and new ones
placed together and as
the eye's of the world
look down upon ACW once
more. With only a 5 star
show that will keep them
in the limelight as
federations begin their
summer expeditions.
Quinton's
Army Meeting #009
|
|
The original foursome of terror had arrived early. This would be a most interesting night, especially for the leader. For weeks, he'd ended up on the losing end of the stick, while juggling the complexities of his life. But on this night, he had to block out all the distractions that were swirling about in his head. Every last thing had to be put on the backburner for a while.
Revenge most foul; that was the agenda for Quincy.
As he paced up and down his locker-room, with his troops seated at the round table a few feet away, all dressed for combat, May began to ponder over the events of the last couple of months. More specially, everything starting from the day QA began to materialise, to this very moment. All the trials, all the tribulations, all of which led to this very moment.
Where the foursome... were on the verge of their biggest night as a unit yet.
El Janitors didn't have anything special assigned to them on the night, other than recruiting. But now, Quincy wanted muscle. He wanted men or women who were powerful. With the edge of toughness attached to them. Hence, Howard & Morris were told to scour the streets of New Orleans for new blood. People who'd be useful additions to The Army, bringing an aura of safety & security to the group.
As for the YOTN, 006.392? Tonight was a massive night for the young boy. He was leading the charge against Vincent Pembridge, a fresh enemy of QA, who would do absolutely anything to get what he wanted. A straight-up battle with The Scorpion Of Manchester was what he asked for, but with the kid's current physical condition, one might be joking if 006.392 was picked as the favourite to win the match. I mean, a skilled veteran, with years of experience in both fighting AND wrestling, and with the lust for blood now... against a total newcomer to the entire industry?
Never count out any member of The Army, though. Sure, The British Army may have firepower... but Quinton has drilled the concept of tenacity into the minds of his men. And there was no doubt that everybody had their eyes on the leader, ahead of his huge battle with the X-Convict tonight. 108192 might have constantly gotten small victories over Quincy Mama, but the latter never let his nemesis amass too many points.
The match tonight... Triple-Header... it would be a show of ultimate resilience and strategy.
"Gentlemen, let's go out there and raise some hell tonight~! Let's do it... not just for everyone out there. But for ourselves, and God!"
El Janitors and the YOTN nodded while rising to their feet. Pain-or-Pleasure would really be a choice for The Army, really. Either, at the end of it all, everybody would be experiencing extreme pain and immense sorrow... or the pleasure of jobs well done would set off a night laden with zany celebrations. It was a choice that was entirely in the hands of each and every member of QA to make.
And of course, in Quincy's case, God would have a part to play as well.
Card
Subject To Changes?
|
|
The crowd anticipated the next move by the players of ACW and rumbled with excitement. The anxiety of the room began to grow with every second that passed. When the lights in the entire arena went out, everyone jumped to their feet and began to scream, even though they had no idea who might be popping out onto the stage at the top of the ramp.
The screen began to flicker green flashes of light, and pyro exploded down the ramp. Images portrayed those of Jade, making high-flying moves off the turnbuckles and defeating her opponents. The fans went wild as she suddenly stepped out onto the ramp, sporting the most recent ‘ACW’ line of Jade clothing; a pair of dark green leather pants, and a matching lace-up leather top. Her high-heel boots were totally opposite of her usual sporty running shoes.
She smiled as the fans admired her for a few short seconds, then she brought the microphone up to her mouth, motioning for her music to stop, and the single spotlight shining over the crowd, to light her up on the ramp.
“Well, as you all know, I have a match tonight with none other, the one and only ACW loser...ToK!” the crowd booed at the mention of ToK’s name and Jade smirked slightly. She raised a hand to calm the fans down to some extent.
“I just wanted to come out here and make up a few additional rules, since he took it upon himself to make up the previous ones...” wetting her lips, she pulled a piece of paper out of her back pocket but before reading off of it, she cleared her throat and continued.
“I’m so confident about this match tonight, I can go along with the whole idea of having me join Quinton’s little Army if I lose. That’s fine. And even better, I love the fact that the asshole, who has nothing better to do, and no easier way of beating me, than attacking me backstage, will have to quit if, excuse me WHEN I win!” the crowd exploded at the mention of this. They seemed as excited as Jade was, only she didn’t let them see her pleasure.
She looked down at the piece of paper she was holding at her side, and cleared her throat once again. “New rule Number One: This will NOT be a standard match!” The crowd rumbled. “Instead of this being a standard match, I have decided to change that...to a LADDER MATCH!” The crowd hit the roof! ‘JADE’ chants began to rise throughout the arena.
“Instead of having a regular ‘pin-me’ match, this one will consist of a few things. First, two flags will hang from the rafters. One Canadian, and one American! Whoever climbs the ladder and pulls down their Country’s flag first, will be declared the winner!” Not seeing or hearing anything like this, the crowd has gone into frenzy.
“Rule Number Two: ANYTHING GOES! This will be a No-DQ match. That means you can do whatever it takes to win this match. Use whatever you want in order to win...ToK...you wanted this, you got this! Now, the question is...are you man enough to except it?” Jade smiled as the crowd was uncontrollable. She looked into the camera and winked as her music started up and the lights went out. When they came back on in the arena, Jade was gone.
First
Match - Normal Rules
Jason Kain Vs. Osyrus
“This is the first of Three Falls!” The ring announcer screamed. “The rules of this match are the same as all normal matches… Disqualification and count-outs apply. And entering first…”
The roar of the crowd was deafening as Osyrus' music hit, and the “God of the Ring” entered. The boos resounding as he sneered and feigned a backhand to a fan. He climbed into the ring, but already Kain was running down to the ring… obviously not waiting to start the match.
Kain charged at Osyrus as the ring announcer ran for cover. Osyrus sidestepped, using Kain’s momentum to whip him right into the fleeing announcer, send both flying over the ropes. As Kain got up he looked to the announcer, asking him if he was ok, and when he nodded, Kain stood up and screamed to the ref for a safe entrance. The ref pushed Osyrus back, as he smirked. Kain climbed back into the ring, and stared at Osyrus with death in his eyes. Osyrus made a huge grin showing all of his teeth, as if he didn’t even have to worry about the match. Kain walked toward him, and both locked up.
Kain shoved in and tossed Osyrus over his head with a arm/headlock suplex, as the crowd “ooh”-ed. Osyrus climbed to his feet and glared at Kain, as they locked up again… but once again Kain pulled Osyrus over with a hard Northern Lights suplex, causing the crowd to erupt in a “Didn’t Think So” chant. Osyrus was now livid, climbing to his feet. He shouldn’t have been having such a hard time with the runt, but somehow Kain was getting the better of him. Maybe it was his low center of gravity? Maybe it was the fact that Osyrus hadn’t been taking the match seriously? Or maybe… just maybe… Kain was trying to prove he was better than him.
That was something Osyrus wasn’t going to let happen.
Osyrus grappled, then noticed how Kain was getting through the grapple, as once again Osyrus flew over with a hard belly-to-back… he was watching
Osyrus' feet, for the one moment when only one foot was on the ground. He wasn’t landing the moves… he was reversing all of
Osyrus'! Osyrus smiled this time as he climbed to his feet. For the first time, Osyrus was giving Kain a bit of props for his ingenious strategy. But the complement didn’t last long, as Osyrus, this time, didn’t lock up with Kain… but landed a hard right to Kain’s face. The ref warned Osyrus to open the hand, but Osyrus his a second… then a third, as the ref started counting.
Kain wasn’t having this. He threw a punch back, but Osyrus blocked it and laid in another hard right, pushing Kain up into a corner. Osyrus dropped in a hard kick to the gut, before the ref yanked him away, screaming that if he didn’t quit it, he’d be disqualified. Osyrus shoved the ref away and pulled Kain out of the corner. He slung him into the air with a vertical suplex, then dropped a hard elbow to his throat… then held the elbow there, choking Kain… and the crowd’s boos elevated.
Osyrus grabbed Kain off the mat, and lifted him to his feet, punching him in the stomach, then rolling back landing a snap suplex. He flipped over and grabbed Kain in a grounded dragon sleeper. The ref check for the choke, then looked for Kain’s hand… But that didn’t happen, as Kain swung his legs upward, catching
Osyrus' head in a scissor, and hooked the same arm that had been attempting to keep the blood from his head… locking him in a fujiwara head scissor. The crowd cheer at the innovative reversal…
But the moves seemed to have taken a lot out of Kain as Osyrus pushed himself to his knee… and pressed Kain’s shoulder to the mat… while in the hold.
1… 2…
KICKOUT!
But, the kick out cause Kain to let go of the hold, which was exactly what Osyrus was hoping for, as he rubbed his neck. Kain got to his feet and turned toward Osyrus, running toward him with a hard spear… but it wasn’t as hard as expected as Osyrus pulled his legs up and scissored Kain, locking him in a arm/necklock, leaving Kain just out of arm’s reach from the ropes. The ref slid into place checking for the tap, but Kain wasn’t willing to oblige.
Kain shoved himself up and pushed toward the ropes… but his grab missed. The crowd started with an “Osyrus Sucks” chant, as Kain pushed again. Kain threw his hand out and missed the rope again as Osyrus laughed. Kain struggled, pushing as hard as he could against the hold throwing his arm toward the ropes… this time just grazing the bottom rope… and the crowd “oh”-ed in disappointment. Kain pushed up again, but Osyrus tightened the hold, dropping Kain back to the mat… but Kain seemed to have a new plan… although it’d hurt him a lot. Kain rolled over.
The pain from the leg scissor intensely tightening around his already damaged ribs, Kain threw his hand out one more time… and grabbed the bottom rope… his last scream from the hold shooting blood out of his mouth. The crowd suddenly quieted down as Kain rolled out of the ring. Osyrus growled at the ref for forcing him to let go of the hold, yelling “I HAD HIM” over and over again… but the ref wasn’t having it as he reached “THREE!” on his count for Kain. Osyrus suddenly shut up, and stared at Kain… a sick smile appeared on his face.
Osyrus climbed between the ropes and the ref restarted his count… Osyrus walked up to Kain and pulled him to his feet, setting him up on his shoulders… and his a hideous smile on his face, dropped him chest-first with an electric chair drop into the guardrail. The crunch and the scream was hideous. The crowd roared an “oh!” and Kain just rolled on the mat, coughing.
Osyrus got to his feet as the ref counted “SIX!” and climbed back in the ring.
SEVEN!!!
EIGHT!!!
No movement from Kain, as Osyrus lifted a middle finger to him.
NINE!!!
TEN!!!!
The crowd booed wildly, as Osyrus lifted his hand to the air, and Kain laid in a pool of his own coughed up blood. The ref called for EMTs, but Kain started pushing himself to his feet. The crowd cheered for Kain as he looked back to Osyrus in the ring… lifting three fingers to the air. Pulling down one.
Two to go.
The EMTs huddled around Kain, helping him up the ramp. But Osyrus looked at him as he left the arena. He knew that this wasn’t the end of it. Hell, Kain was injured BEFORE the match, and STILL he left the arena standing.
No… this was far from over.
Winner: Osyrus
Lead 1-0
Personify
- Inside Vincent
Pembridge's Head
|
|
Tonight looks like it's going to be a bloody waste of time. I mean, I'm fighting a idiotic kid. A skinny runt.
Who has a horrendous haircut, and really ugly teeth.
Bollocks. I came to the ACW to get back in shape, and now, I'm ending up going to war with a bunch of sodding cunts. It's going to be the easiest war of all time. I mean, no bloody way a bunch of freaks will be able to topple The British Army. These freaks are even worse than them
bleedin' Scots. Mainly because they're Yanks. Stupid yanks, with horrible breath. Worse than them
Scousers, really. Pick of the lot has to be that A*Dubbs pillock, speaking as if he's got six hundred cocks shoved down his throat. And types as if his keyboard's all sticky. Bloody sick sod.
But I digress. Back to the matter at hand; I'll make sure I give this kid what he rightfully asked for last week.
A beating of a lifetime. I mean, bloody hell, do these people not understand the virtues of privacy? That's the game they wish to play, eh? Well, I love playing games. The cunts will never know what hit them. The British Army will reign supreme, as God is my witness. No bleeding way will these freaks defeat me. It's just unheard of, really. A scorpion never loses to a band of misfits who get their knobbers hard simply because moronic twats cheer for them.
Bah, this is going to be an easy night. And those
arseholes... the janitors... fecking twats, they'll get theirs. Interfere in my business, will they?
Be prepared for a vicious Scorpion Sting, lads.
Grudge
Match
Ladder
Match - For The Flag
Jade Vs. ToK
The rules to the match were laid out before the battle had commenced. Two flags were hanging high above the ring; one Canadian, one American. Whoever climbed the ladder first and grabbed their Country’s flag was declared the winner. If Jade one, ToK would have to leave the federation forever, but on the other side of the coin, if ToK won, Jade would have to join him within the ranks of Quinton’s Army. It could go either way, and Jade was not ready to let that happen.
The crowd in New Orleans was out of control. As “Bad Religion” by Godsmack began to play, there was a mixture of cheers and boo’s, which began to ring out. ToK stepped out onto the ramp as flashes of pyro were sent off, and the lights flickered. His face was one of determination as he marched down the ramp towards the ring. Climbing the buckles and stepping over the ropes onto the canvas, he jumped around and began to get himself ready by stretching and whatnot.
ToK’s music was cut short as ‘Unwanted’ by Avril Lavigne started up. This was no recording though. Out onto the ramp with Jade, stepped none other than Avril herself. Smiling and cheering along with the crowd, she began to sing out her song, as she watched Jade walk towards the ring. The lights flashed green and white, and spotlights shined throughout the arena. Jade smiled and waved at the crowd, really not paying any attention to ToK who was in the ring already. To her, this was a big joke, and ToK knew it, thus making him even angrier.
Jade applauded as Avril finished her song, and took up a seat in the front row of the crowd. Fans went crazy and swarmed her for autographs while swooning over Jade at the same time. Jade jumped up onto the side of the ring and laughed at ToK who was taking everything so seriously. She shook her head and blew him a kiss, while winking at him.
ToK got mad and ran at Jade. Jade jumped off the apron and landed on the ground below, almost bringing ToK with her. Leaning over the ropes, he began to yell obscenities at her. Again she blew him a kiss, and then slid under the ropes, taking his feet out from underneath him.
[DING, DING, DING]
The match had officially started and Jade took ToK down by hooking his legs and throwing him over top of her. ToK hit his head hard on the mat, and Jade jumped up to try and gain the advantage. Stomping on ToK she smiled and winked at the crowd. She kicked him hard in the side and sent him rolling to the outside of the ring.
The crowd began to cheer and a few fans were hanging over the railing to try and touch ToK. As he got up slowly, he glared at Jade. She smiled and motioned for him to get back in the ring and finish the fight.
ToK climbed back into the ring and kept an eye on Jade. She leaned up against the turnbuckle in the corner, standing casually, waiting for him to commence fighting. Without warning, ToK ran at Jade and pinned her in the corner when she wasn’t paying attention. ToK hit Jade with a spear into the turnbuckle. She fell to her knees and ToK took advantage. He grabbed her by the hair and threw her across the ring. Kicking at her already sore ribs from the last beating, ToK smiled. Jade looked up at him between every kick and finally threw her legs up, grabbing his waist, and pulling him down to the mat. She kicked him away from her, and pulled herself to the corner, her hand on her ribs.
Standing slowly, Jade looked across the ring where ToK was leaning now. He smiled at her, and the two of them charged at each other. Jade attacked first and dropped ToK with a drop kick to the face, sending him to the mat. ToK was slow to get up, but when he did, he nailed Jade with a charging axe handle bodyblock. At first Jade didn’t move much, but finally coming to, she jumped up and short lariats ToK without him even knowing what was going to happen.
ToK got up and short lariats Jade back, tossing her to the mat on her butt. The battle went back and forth as Jade hit ToK with an ear ringer. She then executed a swinging neck breaker on ToK while he was stunned. ToK lies on the mat and slowly tried to make his way to his feet. Jade grabbed him by the back of the neck and tossed him to the outside of the ring. ToK hit the mats hard, and rolled towards the turnbuckle. Jade jumped over the top rope and grabbed a chair from under the ring.
Approaching ToK she lifted the chair above her head. ToK kicked Jade in the stomach and the chair fell from her hands, landing on the floor beside her. ToK picked up the chair, and just before he was about to hit Jade across the back with it, she spun and kicked it, so he hit himself in the face. The crowd cheered as ToK hit the floor like a sack of potatoes.
Jade decided to take advantage of the situation and climbed under the ring. She pulled out a few things; a garbage can, a crowbar and most important of all, a fifty foot ladder. Tossing the ladder into the ring, she approached ToK with the garbage can. ToK crumpled to the floor once again, and didn’t move much. Tossing the dented garbage can to the floor, she jumped up onto the ring apron and began to set up the ladder.
The crowd cheered as she tried to even it out underneath the Canadian flag. Jade started to climb the ladder, but as she did so, no knowing, ToK began to climb back into the ring. Jade was about one third up the ladder, but ToK pushed it over, and threw Jade to the mat. She pounded her fist on the mat in anger and pushed herself up off her stomach. As she stood up, she turned around and got hit with a jumping sidekick. As Jade stood up, ToK hit her with a heart punch.
ToK climbed the turnbuckle and as Jade stood up, he hit her with an elbow drop off the second turnbuckle. Jade stood up again, but ToK took advantage of the situation and raked her across the back. He then used a jawbreaker on her, to take her down. As he took her to the mat, she fell off the side and to the outside of the ring. ToK took the advantage and began to set up the ladder, which was leaning on the ropes at this time.
He set it up underneath the American flag and began to climb it. Out of the crowd though came Jason Kain. He flew into the ring, as ToK was half way up, and pushed the ladder right over the turnbuckle. ToK flew off the ladder, and over the top rope, landing beside Jade who was starting to get up off the floor. Jason jumped out of the ring and grabbed ToK. He picked him up and executed a spine buster on him, then threw him into the metal stairs. Grabbing him again, he threw him into the ring post and kicked him in the stomach.
During all of this, Jade began to climb into the ring and set up the ladder. As she did so, El Janitors began to walk down the ramp. She saw them and leaned over the ropes, yelling at them to go back to the back.
Jason Kain finished with ToK, leaving him and ran after El Janitors. They saw Jason and ran around the ring, and out through the crowd. Jade shook her head and turned around to set up the ladder again. As she stood on the first step, the crowd began to chant her name. Step by step she climbed the ladder, higher and higher.
ToK began to come to on the mat outside the ring and pulled himself slowly up onto the apron. He crawled towards the ladder and as Jade climbed quicker, he tried to push it over. The ladder swayed back and forth slightly. Jade clung to the steps for dear life, as it tipped. Finally it stopped, and Jade took a few more steps. ToK pushed it again, and once again it began to sway. Rustling up the courage, she kept on climbing even though the ladder was rocking.
ToK sat up and began to pull himself up the ladder behind Jade. Quickly he climbed, catching up to her. She was about to take her last step, and ToK grabbed her ankle. Jade looked down and tried to kick him in the head. He ducked and leaned to the right, taking the ladder with him slightly. Punching her in the side of the leg, Jade almost fell off the ladder. ToK took one more step up and grabbed Jade by the waist. He began to pull on her, making her lose her balance. Jade’s feet slipped off the ladder and she held on for life, as ToK was hanging from her body.
ToK and Jade fell to the mat hard. Jade landed on ToK and knocked him out, but hurt herself in the process. Jade wasn’t moving, ToK wasn’t moving. The two of them were out cold. The crowd began to chant and cheer to try and wake one of them up. ToK finally began to move. He pushed himself up slightly and looked over at the unconscious Jade.
Smiling, he set the ladder up again, and began to climb. Before ToK could get three steps up, Jade pulled him off the ladder and smashed him across the face with her forearm. ToK dropped. Jade booted him in the gut a few times and pulled him to his feet. Jade knife hand chopped ToK across the neck and executed a headlock takedown.
Jade grabbed ToK off the mat and fist dropped him right onto the ladder. Jade pushed him out of the way and rolled him right out of the ring. She set up the ladder once again and moved to the first step. Jade continued to climb the ladder. ToK didn’t move, he just laid on the outside of the ring bleeding.
Jade moved more than half way up the ladder before ToK began to stir on the mat. Seeing Jade on the ladder, almost all the way up, he tried quickly to get up onto the ring apron. As Jade hit the top step and reached for her flag, ToK pushed the ladder over, and left Jade hanging from the Canadian flag attached to the rafters. She looked down and began to swing her legs frantically. The buckles began to crack and sent Jade flying down to the mat, her Canadian flag landing on top of her.
DING
DING
DING
The match was over, as the Medical Units rushed to ringside. ToK knelt down on the mat, his head in his hands, shaking it back and forth.
EMT’s strapped Jade in, and rushed her away on a stretcher, tossing her Canadian flag over
the top of her.
Winner: Jade
Personify
- Inside 006.392's Head
|
|
I am but a mere child, people say. Incapable of supporting myself. Not mature enough to make my own life choices. And certainly not welcome in this industry called wrestling. But you know what? I don't see it that way.
It's not wrestling anymore. No, no works. No angles. No nothing. It's all real here.
This Vincent Pembridge guy beat the shit out of me many weeks ago. That was real. The blood pouring out of cuts made on my face? As real as you can get. See, in some places, the little thing called
sports entertainment is thrown out the window. Only thing restricting us is going too far, and thus, ending up in jail.
The times are changing. The industry's changing. Now, it's all about fighting for survival.
I'll admit it, I have no actual wrestling skill. I'm not a fighter at heart. But I'll strive to battle for my own beliefs, and for the people that gave me a second chance. Quinton May, in particular.
Vincent Pembridge is afraid of me. Why else does he constantly send his thugs to beat me up?
Well, tonight, I'm turning the tables on him. I've already taken one step towards eliminating him. See these pile of bodies here? His goons. Finally, I've beaten them. Today, there were seven of them. And I beat
'em all. Outnumbered, yes... but not outsmarted. After a while, you learn from your mistakes. Vincent, apparently, doesn't learn.
Tonight, I'll slay the giant. I'm sick of being treated like shit. Like a child. And I'll do it on my own. No help, none at all. No Quinton, no Janitors... no one.
*start-mode:
killthemotherfuckingassholeanddosobyanyfuckingmeanspossible*
Let's do this, bitch.
Meeting
Of The Minds
Howard & Morris zipped up their jackets, and proceeded to walk towards the exit of the arena. Last week, under strict orders from Quinton May, the two men launched a sneak attack on Vincent Pembridge's posse in thReat, having gained vital information on The British Degenerate. Since the latter did say he wanted to go to war, the emergence of El Janitors on thReat's Sunday Night Flaw 16 was Quincy's way of making it official.
The two armies were now officially locked in combat. QA versus TBA. Misfits slowly earning their keep, against hooligans with a dangerous madman at the helm.
Now, however, the UNOFFICIAL ACW Tag Team Champions had a much simpler task. Well, on paper, it seemed easier. They simply had to roam the streets of New Orleans and convince strangers to join Quinton's Army. With that, had to come the explanation of what QA was all about, and the benefits that could be enjoyed, and such. That was something Howard found to be a chore, especially if there were young & ripe girls nearby watching.
Morris was all about business on the night, though. The stoned expression on his face said it all. Of course, he always looked stoned... but today, the sense of urgency was more inherent. Stepping out of the arena, both men wondered where exactly to start their recruitment drive. Howard & Morris tried to remember what they had read up on New Orleans in the travel guide...
No US city celebrates indulgence like New Orleans. And often you can smell it -- the unmistakable scent of last night's party on Bourbon Street. Though residents seem a bit self-conscious of their city's reputation for revelry, and a bit resentful of the tourists who treat New Orleans like an alcoholic theme park, they're part of a place where everything seems... to get a lagniappe -- a local term that means "a little something extra". In New Orleans, the food has more spice and more calories; the music is funkier and ends later; the local characters are a little more colorful.
In what other US city would a voodoo priestess be buried next to the mayor's family? Or funerals be celebrated with a jazz band and a street dance? These excesses and peculiarities will enchant anyone with a penchant for the romantic, the spiritual, the beautiful or the unusual -- in fact, they enchant practically everyone. The proof is in the wide variety of visitors who call on the city, everyone from music lovers to retirees to youthful adventurers to business conventioneers.
Howard stroked his non-existent goatee, his mind wandering to thoughts of raping schoolgirls.
"I FREAKING THINK WE SHOULD GO EAT FIRST. I AM FREAKING HUNGRY."
Morris turned to his companion, who was startled by the fact that he hadn't eaten at all. No wonder his fantasies of rapes now included the usage of bananas and cream pies, and watermelons even.
"Maybe we might find waiters who are tough enough. Then after that, we could check out some jazz clubs. Yes, jazz."
"THAT'S A FREAKING GOOD IDEA!"
The two men began to walk towards their Love Van, when suddenly, out of nowhere... two men jumped out of the darkness. Out of pure instinct, the janitors thought they had been cornered by Vincent Pembridge's lackeys. They were wrong. Two men, one dark-skinned and one fair-skinned, wearing soccer jerseys... those were the men who'd appeared out of nowhere.
And to those who followed the now-defunct IOW, the men were instantly
recognizable.
Joey Kole & Andi Kole. The Kole Brothers. The oddest couple ever. Even more weird than El Janitors, if you believe that.
"HEWWO!" Joey screamed at the top of his voice, before his brother Andi slapped him.
Howard & Morris folded their arms, easing out of their "kung-fu attack mode", looking at the young brotherhood standing in front of them. Andi looked the more serious of the two, while Joey gave off the impression that he was a cocksucker whom nobody liked. El Janitors weren't wrong with their assessment, but one thing they missed out. Or rather, failed to focus on. The intentions of The Kole Brothers.
"WHO THE FREAKING HELL ARE YOU TWO AND WHAT THE FREAKING HELL DO YOU WANT?!"
Andi smiled. His evvillll plan that he'd come up with just a minute ago was unfolding perfectly.
"I've got a cunning plan. Shall we talk about it over... dinner?" the older brother, Andi, fired back. Howard beamed, and nodded vigorously. And so, it was set. El Janitors were gonna have dinner with The Kole Brothers.
Oh boy, how fun would that turn out to be?
Grudge
Match
Vincent Pembridge Vs.
006.392
"Forest" by System Of A Down began playing over the speakers, and the arena lights dimmed a little. A round of decent applause, accompanied with some hearty cheers were belted out for the youngest member of the ACW roster. He was not even sixteen years of age, and yet, he was already in the business, taking part in one of the premier federations in the country. And on this, a special night for the promotion, too.
Wearing a blue sleeveless tanktop, black pants, and black sneakers... 006.392 slowly walked down the ramp, feeling a wee bit nervous. He did ask for this match, and now, deep inside of him, doubts began to arise. But in his mind, the thought of revenge was still fresh. No way was he going to back down from this momentous challenge.
Vincent Pembridge would be eradicated. In essence, this entire thing was Pembridge's fault. If he was feeling ashamed of fighting a kid, he only had himself to blame.
After all, the Scorpion of Manchester was the one who chose to get stuck in the affairs of QA. So it was only fair of Quinton May to send someone available to take care of the pest that humiliated the cornerstone of The Army, El Janitors. And hence, the underhanded tactics began, after Vincent annihilated 006.392 on the edition of Courage after the Legends PPV. Since then, The British Degenerate has been masterminding a revolution in thReat.
But decided to return to ACW, a place he joined simply to get back into shape. And the YOUTH OF THE NATION, affectionately termed by Dictator Quincy, was more than willing to avenge his beating at the hands of a group of Brit teenagers. Vincent's lackeys.
All of that has led... to this, a Grudge Match.
As 006.392 slid into the ring and raised his arms in the air, the entire arena suddenly went dark. Children screamed, women got their panties in a knot, men started to gulp down their beer and boo heavily. Then, that all-too-familiar tune started up over the sound system.
"Time" by Taproot.
The one, the only. The British Degenerate. The Scorpion Of Manchester. The callous fighter who was going to war on two seperate fronts now.
Vincent Pembridge, ladies and gentlemen. You hate him, and he hates you. No two ways about it.
Time; just a counter-clockwise in motion.
Time; it requires strength, love, and devotion.
Time; a detention of every person.
Time; is used to make us free again.
When we can turn back time, to any time.
By... by moving on inside.
And will we still ask why about the time?
Or be just fine inside of our minds?
Vincent appeared from the back and immediately smiled, as the hate grew. With a blue spotlight focused on him, Pembridge slowly walked towards the ring, the aura of contempt hanging heavily in the air. All it did, however, was make The British Degenerate happy. He didn't give two shits about the fans. Whether they cheered, jeered, got sodomised. He didn't care. He had his own things to worry about.
Time; grows things older, faster when you find it.
Time; it's wasting away while we spend it.
Time; a reflection of our past with it.
Time; is used to make things right again.
When we can turn back time, to any time.
By... by moving on inside.
And will we still ask why about the time?
Or be just fine inside of our minds?
Reaching the bottom of the ramp, Pembridge, wearing only dark blue jeans and black boots, slowly walked around the ring before ascending up the steps and onto the ring apron. But no, he didn't enter the ring. Instead, he turned to the section of the crowd which were seated behind the announce team and sneered at them. These were cretins who had absolutely no idea what was in store, he thought.
Hence the reason his arms were outstretched, as The British Degenerate began chuckling. And almost on cue, the intensity of hate increased dramatically. It was almost... surreal.
006.392 watched on, his nostrils flared. It was time to do battle, but he didn't want to stoop to Vinny's level and jump him from behind. No, the kid had waited too long for this moment to spoil it. He wanted every single moment of this match that was in his favour to be... perfect. After all, he was a relative newcomer, going up against a skilled veteran. 006.392 only ever had one match before, and that was against Jade. This, however, wasn't a match.
It was a struggle.
I can see this coming over my mind.
Cause you're right.
It's life, my light!
When we can turn back time, to any time.
By... by moving on inside.
And will we still ask why about the time?
Or be just fine inside of our minds?
When we can turn back time, to any time.
By... by moving on inside.
And will we still ask why about the time?
Or be just fine inside of our minds?
Our minds, Our minds, Our minds.
Because you're right, you're right...
Inside our minds.
Minds. Minds. Minds.
Minds.
Finally, Vincent's theme song came to an end, with the full extent of the crowd's loathsome jeers being able to be judged now. The Scorpion turned around and his eyes met 006.392's, just when the arena lights came back on. Almost immediately, the devilish smile disappeared, as VP stepped through the ropes into the ring. The battleground for this, a climax to a nasty feud. But one had the notion that even after this match, things weren't going to be settled.
Because the war between the armies was only beginning.
*DING DING DING*
006.392 immediately got the ball rolling as he charged at Vincent, jumping in the air in an attempt to clothesline the big Manucian. Pembridge smirked as he caught the YOTN in a
bear hug and spun around, slamming him down to the canvas with immense power. Already, groans of disappointment could be heard throughout.
But it wasn't over. Oh, not by a long shot. Seemed VP wanted to dish out some extreme punishment, as he drove his right foot into the lower abdomen area of 006.392. 006.392 yelped out in pain, enduring the barrage of stomps now. Vincent's eyes gleamed at the sound of the kid's ribs possibly breaking, before finally deciding to stop. And reverting to a more trusted form of attack.
Punching the daylights out of the opponent.
Of course, this was a kid Pembridge was fighting. So, as he pulled the YOTN up and scored with a right hook, 006.392 went tumbling into one of the four turnbuckle corners. Vincent frowned slightly, before taking a step or two back... then charging at the kid held up in the corner.
*CRUNCH*
Seemed another broken bone was on the agenda of The British Degenerate, and a charging knee-smash into the chest of 006.392 might have just accomplished that. Pembridge laughed again, at the sight of 006.392 gasping for air and falling to the canvas face-first, the wind completely knocked out of him.
This was as good as over, really. But not quite.
What?
That's right, not quite.
Vincent grabbed the back of 006.392's neck and pulled the YOTN up, he himself thinking that the fight was as done as dinner. Surprisingly, 006.392 lashed out with a swinging reverse elbow-smash, which made complete contact with Pembridge's face. The monster from Manchester was dazed as he staggered backwards, a sidekick to his chest from the kid proving to be another surprise.
Now, it was The British Degenerate trapped in the corner, getting the snot beaten out of him. The fans were going nuts.
Right, left... right, left... it was a magnificient sight to behold. A teenager giving a renowned brawler an ass-kicking lesson. 006.392's punches were increasing in power with each second, as he drove his fists into the face of the stunned Scorpion. Who, by now, was trying to figure out a way to get himself out of this current predicament.
And managed to come up with the simplest way possible.
Block one punch, retaliate with a stinging forearm smash, and knock the bugger out with a sidekick using the left leg.
"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" the crowd went, as they witnessed exactly that. The Scorpion of Manchester had snuffed out a brave assault from 006.392, and showed why he was that feared in the ACW locker-room. He might have gotten sniggers of contempt, fussing over a match with a teenager, but as blood trickled out of 006.392's nose, everybody in the arena knew that Vincent Pembridge was one serious mofo.
Who didn't care who you were; it was all about equality to him.
Kicking 006.392 in the stomach, Vincent reached down and grabbed the YOTN by his hair, now wanting to pull him up again. In a true shocking moment, 006.392 raised his right knee and smashed it into Pembridge's groin, before unleashing one hell of a right hook to send the British Degenerate stumbling away, and eventually crashing down onto the canvas. The crowd cheered once again, as 006.392 slowly helped himself up and wiped the blood that was trickling down to his lips.
"Time to show you who's the real badass, bitch!"
With those words, the YOUTH OF THE NATION ran towards the ropes and jumped onto the top rope, before leaping off... and majestically connecting with an Asai Moonsault. It was obvious that Quinton had taught him the move, but for the kid to pull it off perfectly... it was just amazing to see.
What was even more amazing was that Vincent now wasn't moving at all. Which, of course, allowed 006.392 to hook the legs;
ONE...
TWO...
THREE!!!!!
YES! HE DID IT! THE KID DID IT! EVERYBODY BACK TO THE BATCAVE FOR BEERS!
....
.......
...........
Right. Really, did you think Vincent would have stayed down from a simple... Asai Moonsault?
Nope. He kicked out right after TWO. Which muted the frenzied round of cheers and brought a look of anguish upon 006.392's face. Who had truly believed he had it won, right then and there.
Dejected, 006.392 got to his feet, pulling Vincent up at the same time. Pembridge was still somewhat dazed, but inside, furious at himself for being humiliated like that. However, he had a cunning plan that he now wanted to happen.
So, it was no surprise when the kid managed to whip the Scorpion into the ropes. And as Vincent bounced off those same ropes, 006.392 quickly shot himself into the opposite set of ropes, to build up some steam. For what, you ask? For his jump into mid-air, silly.
Cross body block, baby.
Of course, it sounded more like jumping thrust kick, baby.
*SMASH*
And with that move, 006.392 dropped down to the canvas, his nose completely broken, and blood oozing out of the fresh cuts on his face, as a result of that heinous kick. Pembridge dropped down to his knees and smiled, placing his finger on 006.392's chest arrogantly. As a form of a cover. The referee was disgusted, as were the fans, but the count had to be made;
ONE...
TWO...
THREE.
With that, it was all over. As most expected, Vincent Pembridge won, and somewhat convincingly. Somewhat, being the operative word. See, many expected him to simply steamroll his opposition.
But it wasn't to be. 006.392 put up some measure of resistance and even had the chance to cover Pembridge.
In the end, however, The Scorpion of Manchester was victorious. "Time" by Taproot played again, as the Brit rolled out of the ring and nonchalantly walked up the ramp. The crowd started hurling garbage towards Vincent, but it was almost as if the latter was protected by a bubble; none of the rubbish came close to even touching Pembridge.
However, as Vincent Pembridge reached the stage, something told him to turn around and look at the ring. Maybe it was the scattered cheers that had suddenly cropped up. As he did, Vincent saw the rising figure of 006.392, his face a reminder of the war the kid just went through.
Beaten, but not yet demolished. The middle-finger directed at the Scorpion documented that fact very well. Pembridge's smile vanished, and was seemingly carried over to 006.392. A freakish sight to see; a teenager wearing the proverbial crimson mask, barely able to stand... but smiling simply because he was giving the bird to a man who'd just beaten him.
What did Vincent have to say about that?
"Sodding cunt."
The capacity crowd were going insane, and gave the YOUTH OF THE NATION a rousing reception, as The British Degenerate stormed to the backstage area. This battle between the two armies... was only beginning.
And it was proving to be most enthralling already.
Winner: Vincent Pembridge
What
Just Happened?
It
was not in the job
description, but it was
a situation that the ACW
staff had found
themselves in a few
times over the past
month. After a short
period away from the
company, Agent Hawthorn
had made his return to
the ACW tonight of all
night's, it seemed that
he always managed to
pick the worst nights of
them all to continue his
investigation.
Even
though some may have
said that the
investigation must have
been over at this point,
Hawthorn however was a persistent
man, and the missing
link between Ethan
Winters' death, and the
picture of eXistenZ at
the crime scene seemed
to be a more than vital
part to this enquiry.
Tonight
however was the first
time that Hawthorn had
spoken to Joe Bishop
however, and as the
giant African American
stood in the front of
the FBI agent, clearly
having other things to
do, he waited
impatiently for the FBI
agent to begin his
questioning of the final
member of the famous
five that now run ACW.
"Mr.
Bishop, did you have any
major dealing with
Jarrod Falls when he
wrestled here as
eXistenZ?"
"Sure...he's
was a nice little guy
the few months that he
was in ACW for sure. He
came to me to ask about his
matches and how he could
improve a few times, he
was a good kid."
As
Bishop took the notes
down with a pad and
pencil, his mobile phone
began to ring as he
excused himself from
Bishop and then began to
speak into his handset.
"Hawthorn
here.
...
Yeah,
I told you the
situation.
...
Yeah.
...
He's
here?
...
I'll
be right there."
As
Hawthorn quickly exited
the scene, Bishop looked
on as the FBI agent
quickly sped off in
a Continental,
leaving the ACW Staff
member...rather pissed
off.
Life's
Treats
"Nice
night isn't it?"
Inferno
turned to his right to
see a relatively old man
standing beside him,
puffing on a cigar.
Smoking wasn't allowed
in the arena, therefore
the reason why he was
outside with Dante was
obvious, but as Inferno
stood in the outside of
the arena, he gazed at
the sun as his night had
become very free.
"So
son...are you a wrestler
here?"
"Could
be." Inferno
replied, not wanting the
conversation to go very
far, as with always, he
wanted to be left alone.
"That's
a rather big knot on
your head, you sure you
aren't a wrestler?"
Inferno
raised his eyebrows as
he looked over at the
busy roads and to the
side were the screaming
fans were barricaded, he
was not a man for the
people, even though they
seemed to be taking a
likening to the unlikely
hero these past few
weeks.
"There's
a big knot on my head
because one of my fellow
roster decided to hit me
a few times with a
ladder."
"Oh...,"
the old man exclaimed.
"That's nice."
Dante
looked confused as the
old man began to walk
away, but it was
significant of Inferno's
life. As soon as he
began to delve into his
life...people walked,
even the voices in his
head.
For
now...
Grudge
Match
Hillary Vs. Ron Williams
Anticipation is what they call it I think. Anticipation to see a first here in the ACW for one menace of an athlete. Hillary Small, Irony in the name due to her huge stature is climbing into the ring for the first time to take on a relentless Ronald Williams who makes another PPV appearance.
The difference in these individuals is evident however unprovoked Hillary has set her sights on her first victim as Ronald Williams. Maybe this is down to Hillary wanting an easy victory in her first bout? Maybe she has admiration for Ron. We don’t really know. What we do know is that this could be a debut to remember for Hillary, this debut you could either make or break her career.
Ron on the other hand needs to relent himself as a force to be reckoned with instead of the laughing stock of the ACW locker room. Ronald’s height and acute shape of his body makes him a menacing presence however with only one victory and a number of losses, Ron comes across as a human punch bag, someone who becomes an opponent so that the opposition can claim an easy victory.
This is probably Hillary’s intent or motive. The make or break point of her career. Ron Williams versus Hillary Small, Two individuals, a bout both individuals have to win.
‘ If it hadn’t been for Cotton Eye Joe
I’d been married long time ago
Where did you come from where did you go
Where did you come from Cotton Eye Joe’
This couldn’t be? Yes it was. It’s official…Ron Williams has new music and it is quite possibly worse than his former music in Rik Waller Something inside so strong. The Rednex and Cotton Eye Joe seem to have invaded the ACW arena. Ron seems happy with it to say the least. Maybe the fact that he is dancing around the ringside area has something to do with that presumption.
‘ If it hadn’t been for Cotton Eye Joe
I’d been married long time ago
Where did you come from where did you go
Where did you come from Cotton Eye Joe’
‘He came to town like a midwinter storm he rode through the fields so handsome and strong his eyes was his tools and his smile was a gun but all he had come for was having some fun’
Ron seems to have now calmed himself almost. Striding around the ring waving at the crowd however. Although some would say he is waving at the hot dog man to throw him a hot dog.
Immediately the huge stature of Hillary Small strolled out with a sense of confidence. Ron crossed his arms like a young child and waited on the belated entrance of The large small Hillary. Confusing isn’t it? Large but Small. Small but Large.
Hillary was staring at Ron and Ron seemed scared as she came face to face with Mr St George.
Hillary swung her right arm and slapped Ron around the cheek. Ron fell to one knee almost instantly as Hillary began a sudden beat down on Ron. I guess this motioned the start of the match?
Ron was curled up in a ball almost like a young child as Hillary seemed to take pity on him and backed into the turnbuckle and waited for the Big man to gain some composure and maybe get to his feet without crying. Ron struggled to gain that composure and used some leverage to finally gain his ground.
Ron looked tired yet all he had done was lay on the mat for a couple of minutes. Ron looked fuming however as he approached Hillary with his Iron fists raised. Hillary was laughing at Ron as he punched the air like he was Butterbean. And some people call him the wrestling version of Butterbean too.
Hillary was still laughing however she managed to keep a straight face as she charged at Ron with a clothesline. Ron was destine for the mat again however we now know that he does have some agility in that body as he ducked the clothesline. Hillary must be stunned however she didn’t think about that, advancing against the ropes Hillary changed direction and charged towards Ron again. Ron closed his eyes like a Chuckie off the Rugrats and swung his fist. Hillary was down automatically as Ron got her with a sucker punch. Ron seemed surprised with his own ability and began to giddily jump up and down on the spot.
‘Pin her you prick’
Yes that was a call from a fan in the front row who really gave Ron the push he needed. Ron signalled to the fan with a thumbs up and covered the fallen Hillary.
1...
2...
Hillary had too much power with an easy kick out.
Ron grabbed his hair with dismay. Did he really think she would go down to that?
Picking Hillary up by the straggly hair Ron lifts her onto his shoulders in the fireman’s carry position. Attempting the move was totally horrid as he merely dropped Hillary onto the mat on her feet.
BOOM!
Ron eats the boot. Well not literally like you probably expected but he does take Hillary’s boot leather in his face.
Hillary shakes her head still dazed from the punch and drops to her knees over Ron.
1.…
2.…
Not just yet hunny.
Yea Ron kicked out with some leverage. He then adapted for the Hulk Hogan type technique and started shaking his body. It was working kind of. Well until Hillary raked him to the eyes. Ron started rolling around on the mat like an Italian soccer player. There’s no red cards in wrestling Ron. Hillary backed into the ropes now and attempted to jump onto Ron with a huge splash. Ron rolling about on the floor still from the raking rolled away from the splash as Hillary hit the mat with power. Both superstars were down now as the time been wasted on this match was evident. Ron is entertainment but he wishes it was entertainment he was offering and he actually knew he was been entertaining instead of been the laughing stock.
Ron though has energy. ‘He’s up!!! What’s he doing now?’ Ron is on the outside and has a steel chair.
Ron finally has appreciation from the ACW fans as he struggles to get the chair through the ropes.
‘Fold it up you prick!’
Again the fan seems to give Ron some much needed advice as he folds the chair up and advances into the ring. Ron approaches the corner with the chair, Hillary at this point is advancing to her feet. Ron sets the chair up and proceeds to sit down. Ron is nuts! He’s in a match and he is sitting on a chair getting his breath back.
Hillary is up on her feet and seems confused with the logic behind the man they call Ron Williams. He is just sat there and looks totally exhausted. Hillary approaches Ron and pulls him to his feet, CLOTHESLINE!
Ron hit’s the mat and gets the much needed sleep he gets as his head rebounds off the steel chair.
Hillary looks down and shrugs her shoulders, advancing on top of the fallen Ron.
1.….
2.…
3.…
Yes and that was it. Hillary had won her first match in what I would say, confusing turn of events. Hillary’s arm is raised although she doesn’t seem to have broken a sweat while the mat where Ron is stationed is wet with body odour.
Unfortunately this looks to be the same old Ron. Ron is not suitable to be in the wrestling ring let alone competing against Hillary Small. Hillary has won her first bout here in ACW however this is not the story.
Ron Williams is not physically ready to be a professional wrestler. He was tired after 5 minutes of action. Back to the drawing board for Ron? Maybe he should hang up his boots and leave it there. PLEASE RON…GIVE UP YOUR DAY JOB!!!
Winner: Hillary Small
Personify
- Inside Quinton May's
Head
|
|
Over the past few weeks, I've been different. More somber. My life, as it turns out, is more complicating than I thought possible.
I have a family, apparently.
I have a therapist who could turn out to be one of my greatest enemies ever, due to the secrets she has bottled inside of her.
I have a best friend who's suddenly ignoring me.
His two girlfriends talking to me at great lengths for everything and anything under the sun MAY have something to do with that.
My own girlfriend, Janet, is feeling neglected.
Enrik has been missing in action lately. Ron Williams & ToK are too busy with their own petty squabbles to really care about The Army.
And more importantly, God is demanding answers.
Tonight, I shall prove. Tonight, I shall complete one of my quests.
Submission, Table, Straight wrestling inside a cage. Not the absolute best environment for me to prove that I am an all-round wrestler, but it can be done. It will be done. It must be done. I have to do it, tonight. It's now or never. I have to gain some revenge, for my pride. For the pride of QA. It's the only reason I've demanded for the stage to be so. Simply because I have to accomplish this tonight. For my sake.
For God's sake.
I will do it. And nothing's going to stop me. Not Vincent P, not 108192, not anybody.
It beckons.
Grudge
Match
Quinton May Vs. 108192
This is what it had come to. A massive battle, with everything important on the line. Pride, careers, health, status. All the things that matter more than fame or money and whatnot. Quinton May & 108192 had taken the road less travelled to reach their destination here tonight. And one would assume that after this definite epic, only one man would remain standing in the ACW. The other would be just too... traumatised.
Case in point? The way these two individuals met. At Legends, many weeks ago, Quinton was preparing for his battle with Ron Williams. Came across 108192, staring at his picture. Thought maybe the newcomer would make a good addition to Quinton's Army, but that negotiation never
materialized, simply because the X-Convict was in a world of his own. But following the classic Quinton/Williams match-up, the two men bumped into each other again. And that's where the hate began.
A mauling at the hands of the newcomer left May confused.
So, flash forward to a week later. The aftermath of Legends, in the big picture, was supreme. FBI officials everywhere, investigating the apparent murder of Ethan Winters. Neither Quincy or 108192 cared about that. The Dictator wanted revenge, the X-Convict wanted to brood. But they had to fight each other in a match.
A match which was very bewildering, as every time 108192 gained the advantage, he stopped and gazed at the precious picture of himself & his family many years ago. Before he lost it all and was wrongfully sent to prison. Forced to embrace the life he never dreamt of. Losing his family, losing his sanity, losing... himself.
In the end, Quinton won that contest. But after that, shades of Quinton's feud with Dane Rivers resurfaced. 108192 annihilated the life out of Quincy Mama, and left him for dead. Well, merely injured, for about three weeks.
A point had been proven, from 108192's perspective. In May's mind, it meant only one thing.
Ultimate revenge.
During those three or four weeks, both men went to the absolute extreme. First came the usage of El Janitors to find out a little more about the X-Convict's past, before Quinton May flat-out told 108192 that they were very
similar people. Both were forced into a prison-type environment. Both didn't know what they had done to have gone through that experience. Both lost chunks of their lives, in some form or fashion. But as Quinton explained, he had torture within the walls of his horrific spell. He had to fight... to simply live.
All 108192 was endure. Quincy Mama had to battle his way through every single adversity.
After that confrontation, matters escalated. El Janitors became more involved now, as they stole 108192's precious picture and... burned it. That's right, they burned it. The single thing that was the reason 108192 was even bothering to stay alive had been destroyed, forever. And with that act, a monster brewing inside the X-Convict reared its ugly head. He beat up both janitors to within inches of their lives, before kidnapping Howard.
The week after that, it was Morris versus 108192, for the possession of Howard. Janitor M was always doomed from the start, but he gave it his best shot. Alas, his best wasn't enough... 108192, however, had no reason to keep Howard. So, he simply kicked the living daylights out of them again. That was interrupted by the return of Quinton May, who gained some measure of revenge on 108192.
That set up a Steel Cage Match between the two enemies. Now, Quincy was viewing it as the end to their little feud, as he had the motive and the drive to put 108192 in his place, once and for all. He was sick of being sneak-attacked, and beaten to a pulp. Despite not being a 100%, May was all set to play 108192's game. Uncensored brutality.
So, the day come for the battle. And what a match it turned out to be, as both men gave it everything they had. Every single drop of energy that could be mustered was poured forth into the match. In the end, however, it was
deja vu all over again. Neither men looked like winning, but the X-Convict decided he had enough of the softcore stuff. With the aid of his sledgehammer, which had been in play throughout the course of the match, 108192 ruthlessly maimed and attacked Quincy with it. Forcing the referee to throw the match out.
Hence, the stage was set for Pain-or-Pleasure. A fitting name for the war both men had carried each other through. The stakes had been raised, but the concept was still the same. For Quincy, he wanted to avenge the pain he'd suffered. For 108192, it was all about continuing the pleasures of revenge, as the only thing that kept him sane was now destroyed. Maybe it was an act of
leveling the score, from QA's point of view, but it simply awakened a more uncaring 108192.
Now, it was time.
*DING DING fuckity DING*
The crowd hushed. The video package of the Quinton/108192 up to the current moment had ended. Everybody was looking up to the steel cage hanging above the ring, wondering if it would even come into play in the match. Memories of the match from last week's Courage came flooding back to the minds of everyone, who were hoping that the same outcome wouldn't arise tonight. Quincy simply had to win this, or he would be done. If 108192 was simply playing before, this match would be one where no mercy would be shown.
It was literally do or die. Not just for May, for both men.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls... this match, is the Triple Header Match between Quinton May and 108192. The rules are as follows. This match is basically a 2/3 Falls Match, fought under special rules. The first fall will be contested under Submission Match rules, and there are no disqualifications. The second match will be contested under Table Match rules and again... there are no disqualifications. The third fall, should there be a need for one, will be... a standard wrestling match-up fought within the confines of a steel cage. The way to win is via pinfall, and like the prior two falls, there are NO disqualifications!"
Scattered cheers rang out in the arena for the explanation of the match, which basically meant both Quincy & 108192 had the freedom to do whatever the hell they wanted to each other. The stakes, it seemed, were ever increasing, but one had to wonder who would it benefit more. 108192 was more of a fighter, while Quinton May was on a quest to prove he was just as good a pure wrestler as he was a fighter. Having proved his fighting
prowess on more than one occasion already, the Dictator still looked as if he was massively disadvantaged.
Suddenly, the lights went out. Eerie organ music began to play. Mass confusion reigned supreme, as everybody mumbled amongst themselves, demanding to know what was going on. The buzz of frenzied excitement coupled with fear of not knowing what was happening only grew as the seconds passed by, seeming like hours with the darkness.
And then, the lights came back on.
In the ring was 108192. Baggy orange pants, black shoes, clenched fists... and a sadistic smile on his face.
Instantly, massive jeers broke out for the X-Convict, who'd never really endeared himself with the ACW faithful. Like he gave a flying fuck about entertaining them, anyways. He signed on to ACW because he wanted to release some of the mental anguish locked away inside his brain, which always made his eyes feel like exploding. Like a huge burden on his shoulders he had to get rid of, slowly.
Then, it happened.
"Smoke Two Joints" by Sublime.
// I smoke two joints in the morning //
// I smoke two joint at night //
// I smoke two joint in the afternoon //
// It makes me feel all right //
The curtains parted and out stepped Quinton May onto the stage, wearing a pair of white jeans with a black belt, and black boot. Unorthodox dressing for the Canadian, but considering the setting of the match he was about to partake in, certainly a wise move. Quincy progressed down the ramp and towards the ring, acknowledging some of the fans who were chanting his name. The roars of anticipation doubled, but it didn't faze 108192 one bit.
// I smoke two joints in time of peace //
// And two in time of war //
// I smoke two joints before I smoke two joints //
// And then I smoke two more//
Instead, 108192's smile grew wider. He certainly was ready for this epic encounter. Reaching the ring, Quinton took his time to ascend the steps. This was a big occasion for him. A massive occasion. It topped the match he had at Legends, even. The quest to prove that he could wrestle also hung in the balance. This was a match of gargantuan proportions, and it was one both men could ill-afford to lose.
// Daddy he once told me //
// "Son, you be hard workin' man" //
// And momma she once told me //
// "Son, you do the best you can" //
// Then one day I meet a man //
// He came to me and said //
// "Hard work good and hard work fine.. //
// but first take care of head" //
Quinton stepped into the ring and raised his arms up in the air, as the referee now stood between the two enemies, while Quincy's theme came to an end. All the fanfare now had to cease, for a more important matter had to be taken care of. The match, of course. May's eyes had already met the beady ones of 108192's, and all the memories of the last couple of weeks came flooding back to the Canadian.
Who had been waiting for this match for a whole week.
"FIGHT!" the referee screamed. Reminded Quinton of the way fights would start off in M15, but he couldn't preoccupy himself with that now, of all times.
For it was time.
Both warriors, each fighting for their own cause, had their fists prepared for the countless number of times they were sure to slug each other. But for now, the fists were in standby mode. 108192 had began the psychological
warfare, laughing silently as the circling began.
It was it. Ground zero, at the doorstep of absolute mayhem. People, buckle up.
108192 attempted to draw first blood, charging at Quinton May abruptly, hoping to catch the Canadian off-guard. No such luck, as the latter took the X-Convict down easily with a stinging hiptoss. Huge cheers for that, as 108192 scrambled to his feet and growled. Seconds later, he was growling again, courtesy of a drop-toe-hold from Quinton.
As 108192 returned to his feet and turned around, Quinton took him down with a double-leg takedown, before the first barrage of fists of the contest began flying. With the crowd urging him on, Quincy Mama fired away with repeated blows to 108192's temple. 108192 tried to block it, but it was too much for him to handle. Quinton was like a rabid dog, out for blood.
The X-Convict had to find an escape, and fast. So he pulled his legs up into a fetal position and kicked Quincy off of him, sending him flying off onto the Asylum canvas with a thud. Quinton got up quickly, rubbing the back of his neck and charged forward for another assault. He dived forward, and 108192 leapt over the Dictator of QA until he was behind him. Quinton swung with a wild reverse elbow that 108192 was able to duck underneath.
Doing so, 108192 found himself in the proper position to headbutt Quinton in the sternum, driving him into the turnbuckle, then forcing him to slump down. 108192 stayed on top for a bit before Quinton caught him with a back fist chop to the jaw. 108192 fell over, almost losing his balance completely before catching himself. May also regained his vertical base, and the two men stood off against one another like they were in a western showdown.
Quinton charged forward again, and 108192 once again used this to his enemy's disadvantage. With him charging forward, 108 leaned forward and hooked Quinton in an urangi, before placing his leg behind the Dictator's and driving him into the mat with an STO. Quinton landed hard on the mat, and 108192 quickly got to his feet, feeling proud of himself.
The mini-celebration by the often-surly X-Convict drew loud jeers of disapproval from the audience, but it allowed Quincy Mama to pull himself up, to try and regain his focus. 108192 noticed this and cut short his own celebration, and with Quinton his knees, placed his right hand on the shoulder of the Canadian, contemplating his next move as he continued to jaw at the fans.
Bad mistake.
May used this perfect opportunity throw the X-Convict over his shoulder with a monkey-flip type move, resembling something out of a judo playbook. 108192 landed neck first, rolling forward and eventually landing on his feet before turning around to see his charging adversary once more. This time, 108192 was not able to do anything at all to save himself, as Quinton May caught him with a ferocious clothesline.
108192 fell down to the mat, clutching at his windpipe, desperately trying to breathe as the Dictator of QA picked him up by the back of his neck. Quinton threw him face first against the turnbuckle, and began to smash his face into it. 108192 cried out in pain, as Quincy then drove a knee into the back of 108192's neck. It almost looked like Quinton was going to trying to behead the X-Convict, until the latter reached back and caught the Canadian with a wicked mule kick to the groin. Quinton backed off, naturally before falling to the mat in pain
amidst tremendous jeers. 108192 grinned as he staggered over and grabbed May up, to a kneeling position.
Before locking in a rear chinlock. 108192 was going for the victory here, and quite early in the contest too. Obviously, he was confident of securing the first fall via this method, seeing how he'd just done harm to the Quinton May treasury. But surprisingly enough, the latter kept his fists clenched, as a sign that he was still very match alive.
Slowly, he rose to his feet, 108192's eyes now showing fear. He didn't want a fighting opponent, but it was what he was getting.
*CRACK*
One shot of the elbow to the face.
*CRACK*
The second shot. 108's grip on Quincy was slipping.
*CRACK*
The third shot, and the decisive one. 108192's submission hold was broken, and the crowd roared as Quincy turned around, his eyes full of fire. His fists started to fly again, cracking the X-Convict's jaw with a vengeance. After about six punches, May kicked him in the gut…
And scored with a wonderful snap DDT.
"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"
Unfortunately enough, this fall was being fought under Submission Match rules, so any thoughts Quincy might have had about making a cover quickly evaporated. Strategy ideas began to form inside of his head, as he stomped away at 108192's right shoulder, hoping to do some damage for a possible submission move within the next few moments. Pulling 108 up, May sorta snorted at his nemesis, before sending him into the ropes.
But as the X-Convict returned, he had the presence of mind to somehow stop in his tracks and bend over backwards, almost a stunt out of the Matrix movie. Why did he do that? Well, Quinton was attempting to connect with his trademark high-leg clothesline, but with 108192's unique evasion tactic, Quincy flew right over his opponent's head, and crashed to the mat, directly behind 108192.
The bad news was, the leg Quincy was planning to use... landed awkwardly. Which meant the Canadian was going through immense pain at the moment,
specifically with the knee looking as if it had been hyper-extended.
The worse news was, 108192 had noticed this, as he became vertical again. And grinned. With sick thoughts now running wild inside of his head. But hey, in this match conjured up by his own enemy, there are no sick thoughts. Only strategical brainstorming.
A kick to the side of Quincy's head had nothing strategical involved. Neither was a kick to QM's ribs.
But suddenly grabbing the now-injured right leg of May and twisting the ankle sure did seem like a brilliant tactical move. Ankle lock, it was, and with the way the ankle was twisted... 108192 was putting definite pressure on the knee of Quinton May, who was screaming for what it was worth.
The crowd? Couldn't believe how easily the tide was changed. Just like that, it looked as if Quincy was going to have to tap out. But the Canadian had heart. Everyone knew that.
So, was it any surprise when he started to claw his way towards the nearby ropes?
Nope, not at all.
Another wave of fear paraylsed the X-Convict, who now desperately tried his hardest to tighten the grip on Quincy's ankle. He absolutely did not want the Canadian to reach the ropes, as this was possibly the best chance he would have of showing off his technical side. But alas, luck wasn't on 108192's side.
Crowd: YAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYY!
Or maybe it was. Read on.
Referee: No disqualifications, Quinton! Means no rope-breaks either!
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Quinton almost passed out in despair. It'd taken a mammoth effort to push himself towards the ropes and hang on to the bottom one for dear life, as a means of safety, but it wasn't to be. Again, the stipulations he himself had demanded were coming back to bite him in the ass. The ropes were useless in this particular submission contest.
Or so the Dictator of QA thought.
Grabbing the middle rope, 108192 was confused, wondering just what else did his nemesis have up his sleeve. He figured it out when May forced himself to grab the top rope, but by then, it was too late. Grabbing the top-rope meant Quinton had his body semi-suspended in mid-air, and his free leg was subject to even easier use.
Hence, the side thrust kick into the sternum of 108192, which knocked the air out of the X-Convict and broke the hold.
Again, the capacity crowd responded with a rousing ovation for the move, watching as Quincy now stood on his feet, feeling the effects of the ankle lock. He started hobbling towards the recovering 108192, knowing that he had to do something drastic soon, or face losing this fall.
So, when the bald-headed ex-prisoner rose to his feet and charged wildly at Quincy Mama, the latter did the one thing he could do in that situation.
Armbar takedown.
Into a crossface submission.
Crowd: YAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
In the middle of the ring, too. 108192 immediately began to howl out in agony, the earlier kicks to his shoulder area from his adversary proving to be a
nuisance now. May was rocking his body back and forth, the adrenaline threatening to explode from within. This was it, he thought. The perfect chance to grab the first fall. The first and important step towards victory.
108192 tried to fight it. He really did.
*TAP TAP TAP*
But he couldn't. The pain was just too much.
FIRST FALL: QUINTON MAY.
Now, as the Submission Fall came to a frantic end, Quinton May released the hold and rolled to his side... and ultimately, out of the ring. Thus far, the match had taken its toll on his broken body. It had been said that the advantage in this match fell squarely to 108192, mainly because he hadn't had his ass beaten to a bloody pulp over the recent weeks.
Quincy was halfway there, though. One more fall, and revenge was his. The glory was also his.
But first, Table Match rules. He'd asked for it, and he had received it. However, a breather had to be taken. 108192 was no sissy, his blows had great power inherent in them. And it was almost as if the X-Convict was fecking immortal, as he suddenly rose to his feet.
Aware that he had just been made to submit. But walking as if there wasn't any pain raging through his anatomy. Like some sort of freak with special miraculous healing powers, 108192 rolled out of the ring and chuckled, catching Quinton by surprise.
A swinging phoenix-like hook from May in his crouched position dispelled any notion that 108192 was possibly the biggest motherfucker on earth, who felt no pain. The X-Convict went flying backwards, spine-first, into the barricade. Upon impact, he screamed out in pain, before slumping down to the concrete... unable to move.
But seconds later, as Quinton himself began to force himself to stand, 108192 did the same thing.
Which was, quite possibly, a mistake. Why? Read on, duh.
RAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH, Quinton thought.
WTHMF, 108192 thought... noticing how constipated Quincy suddenly looked.
When is Quincy going to get rid of this bastard, the fans thought.
And with regards to the last bit, it was almost as if the Dictator of QA had read their minds way ahead of time. With 108192 vertical again, and resting his spine against the very thing which caused him great pain moments ago, Quincy Mama decided it was time to make use of his M15 experience. He didn't want to completely get stuck into the memories of the horror of M15, but just bring out enough to ensure he had a real shot of winning.
Running Tornado Kick, to the face of 108192. A move that saw the X-Convict tumble over the barricade and drop down to the exposed concrete head first. A loud crack was heard upon impact, as the standing fans in the front rows were forced backwards. Quincy spat, before he launched himself over the barricade, and landed a double-footed stomp onto the lower abdomen of his foe.
This was turning out to be one hell of a brutal war, for the lack of a better description. With the crowd solidly behind him, Quinton May began to feel his heart pumping faster than it ever had in his entire life. Suddenly, it was as if he was going through a trance, and the lust for blood was greater than fulfilling his quest to prove he could flat-out wrestle.
He grabbed 108192 by the waistband of his pants and pulled him up, before delivering another shot to the ribs of his opponent, courtesy of a stiff kick. As 108192 doubled over in pain, the fans could have never anticipated what was to fellow. After all, the objective of this fall was for someone to go through a table, no need for mind-numbing brutality.
But that's what they got.
Courtesy of a double-underhook piledriver onto the concrete. Hideaway, from Quinton.
"HOLY SHIT!!"
"HOLY SHIT!!"
"HOLY SHIT!!"
"HOLY SHIT!!"
"HOLY SHIT!!"
"HOLY SHIT!!"
"HOLY SHIT!!"
108192 lay on the concrete, deflated, as his whole face was now covered in blood, which was flowing from his temple. Something nobody really expected. If anything, the consensus was that the more violent 108192 would bust Quincy open in the opening minutes of the contest. May was beginning to prove people wrong, something he'd done in the first couple of weeks in the ACW, as he went head-to-head with Dane Rivers.
Quincy wasn't about to sit back and take his foot off the gas. He picked the X-Convict up and as quickly as possible, executed a front suplex, causing the X-Convict to crash his upper-body onto the top of the barricade. A gargled scream of agony was emitted by the bald-headed mofo of ACW, who slid off the barricade and fell down to the ground, his head barely missing the steps that lead up to the ring apron. Quincy, now smiling and quickly gaining absolute support of his fans, jumped over the barricade and kicked away at the chest of his nemesis, looking every bit a technical
assassin... preying on the weak spots. With every stomp, 108192 felt that he was slipping away from the match.
But he had to hang on. His own reputation was at stake.
Finally, Quinton May stopped the assault, albeit for a couple of moments. A breather was needed, and with the sweat sliding down his back, he again pulled 108192 up... only to send him crashing into the steel ring-post, while 108192's knees smashed into the steel steps. All in all, a world of pain was what the X-Convict was going through at the moment.
It seemed there would be more, as May leapt onto the barricade and took a while to balance himself, before taking a couple of steps backwards. Everybody in attendance began to rise from their seats, anticipating a knockout blow to be delivered right about now. May took a deep intake of breath, before running... and jumping.
*CRASH*
108192 seemingly had eyes in the back of his head. Either that, or the hitting-the-deck was actually an exhausted collapse in disguise. Either way, it worked, as Quinton's face tasted the ring post, while his lower body crashed into the steps. It was a sickening sight to see, especially when May fell down to the ground with a loud thud. Now, he too was bloodied, as a huge gash appeared just above the nose.
Now, the race was on. Especially with 108192 reaching under the ring... and producing a sledgehammer.
Given Quinton's brush with gayness, one might find it entirely possible that the Canadian suddenly had women's intuition. It was proven here, when he got to his feet and *barely* managed to duck a wild swing of the 'hammer from 108192, following up with a shoulder tackle. Now on top of his nemesis, Quincy drove his elbow into the X-Convict's face, getting his elbow tainted with his adversary's blood. May didn't care about that, simply because he'd curbed a possible revival from 108.
Pulling the latter up, Quincy rolled him into the ring, before he too jumped inside. Frustrated with his performance so far, 108192 forced himself back up just in time to duck a clothesline from Quinton.. and the ex-prisoner swiftly followed up with a single-arm DDT counter, driving his rival's face into the canvas. Feeling the adrenaline flowing through his veins faster than it ever had, 108192 pulled Quinton up and smashed his forearm into his enemy's face.
Quinton, however, soaked it up and retaliated with an old-fashioned eye-gouge. Following up with an Irish-whip into the ropes, and a hiptoss with authority upon 108192's return. Feeling lucky, Quinton went seeking for another hiptoss upon his opponent's recovery.. and scored. Big time. 108192, however, simply wouldn't stay down and looked to pay the price for that as the Quinton went for the third hiptoss. The X-Convict landed on his feet though, and countered with a stunning double-arm DDT.
It was almost as if both men had forgotten this was TABLE MATCH RULES. But hey, if you wanna interrupt them, go on.
.... Didn't think so.
08192 wasted no time in pulling Quinton up and crushing his right knee into the latter's gut. Before the X-Convict slammed May's head into a corner turnbuckle.
Again. And again. And again. And again. The last smash caused the Dictator of QA to stumble backwards like a drunkard and allowed 108192 to score with a devastating spear. One that took a lot out of the ex-prisoner as well.
Both men stayed on the canvas for a while, the atmosphere generated by the audience a reflection of how much they were enjoying this battle. Jeers suddenly cropped up, as 108192 kick-flipped his way up to
verticalism, a smile imprinted on his face. However, as he walked towards the ropes and leaned against it, he noticed Quincy Mama getting up as well. That obviously displeased 108192, who stayed calm and measured up his opponent. The second Quinton recovered his footing and turned around, the X-Convict charged at him. Quinton, however, sidestepped his foe... causing the latter to crash his shoulder into the ring post. Staggering backwards unknowingly, 108192 found himself in a
waistlock. And seconds later, Quinton drew another loud round of approving roars from the crowd, following his massive spinning
German suplex.
A superb move, but the match had gone on long enough, and Quincy's energy tank was running on empty.
May crawled towards the ropes, and while helping himself up, turned to look at his foe, who had crawled to the opposite side. 108192, with the help of the ropes, pulled himself up, grinning while doing so. What was going on in his head, nobody knew. Quinton didn't want to know, as he bit his lower lip and charged at the X-Convict knocking him over the ropes and out of the ring with a clothesline to the back of the head. Both men crashed onto the ground, heaving and grunting while doing so.
Once there, Quinton was the first to his feet and once again put the boots to his bald-headed enemy, showing a lot of intensity while doing so. A lot of thoughts were flooding his mind by then, and he felt this match was strongly in his favour. Wouldn't be for much longer, for as he picked 08192 up and tried to whip him into the steel-steps... the X-Convict reversed it.
And chuckled as the red-haired Canadian slumped down to the concrete, holding his shoulder in pain. As far as 108192 was concerned, the fun was just beginning.
108192 waited for Quinton to help himself up, before he kicked him in the ass, sending Quincy Mama crashing into the security barricade. The match was now gripping the fans in the front-row, who watched as when Quinton turned around, 108192 swiftly executed a drop-toe-hold, causing Quinton's face to taste the steel of the steps again. It was all 108192 now, who seemed to be enjoying this.
And as he laid his eyes on the sledgehammer he had brought out earlier, the pro-Quincy supporters gulped in despair.
Quinton was now in search of higher ground, realising that 108192 was hell-bent on making this match a living hell for him. But 108192 wouldn't allow May to crawl very far. In fact, just as the latter began pushing himself up the steel-ramp, 108192 rushed over and send his fist hurtling downwards into his opponent's face.
Before, of course, hitting one of the simplest moves in wrestling while in the process of "helping" his opponent up.
A snap suplex. On the steel-ramp.
The fans acted all concerned, now wondering just how far this match would go. Quinton twitched and groaned on the steel-ramp, before turning his body and continuing his ascension to the stage. 108192, in the meanwhile, had descended down the ramp and picked up his sledgehammer... kissing it once, before turning to look at Quinton with that sadistic look in his eyes.
Sledgehammer time.
The X-Convict started to stalk Quinton, who was already halfway up the ramp and totally oblivious to what was going to happen. Whistling now, 108 easily caught up with the Canadian and shook his head at the way his opponent was trying to escape.
*CRACK*
Before slamming the sledgehammer into Quinton's hip, of course.
*CRACK*
And again, with more power this time.
*CRACK*
Down onto the spine now, but not by raising the thing over his head. Quincy Mama would have died if 108192 had actually gone ahead and done that, yeah?
*CRACK*
Another spinal bone broken.
Somehow, Quinton reached the stage, still alive. Still breathing. Just... screaming from all the pain he was in. He used the scaffolding right beside the entrance to help himself up, as 108192's mind churned out another idea. Walking over briskly, the ex-prisoner with a vengeance soaked in all the muffled
jeers and cries of concern from the crowd, who were really undecided as to what to do now. They wanted to help their hero, but had no idea how to.
*CRACK*
108192 had swung the sledgehammer, which was aimed at Quinton's head... but fortunately enough for the latter, he had the strength to slump down to the cold steel of the stage, kicking out at his opponent's knee while he did so. That made the annoyed 108 double over, and the Dictator took advantage, with a left-handed European uppercut while still flat on his back.108192 took a step or two back, trying to shake off the power of the punch. It allowed Quinton to recover with the help of the scaffolding again.
And as 108192 approached him, Quinton somehow found the strength to execute an overhead belly-to-belly suplex, sending 108192 crashing into the scaffolding! An scruffy-looking move out of desperation, made to look good by the thud produced when the X-Convict fell back down onto the stage.
Both men remained laid out on the stage, the crowd still in awe over the match. If this was a normal match, it would have been over ages ago. But these two enemies weren't about to give up so easily. The dried blood on the faces on both men, while fresh drops of it still continued to flow, was testament to that. And there seemed to be no end in sight. For Quincy, all he had to do was drive 108192 through a table to win. The latter, however, had to win this fall and THEN fight the third fall. And win that, to claim ultimate victory.
Slowly, both men returned to their feet, which looked as if they might have given way at any second. Quincy limped over to 108192, who was completely out of it. So out of it, he didn't even bother to block Quincy's punch. Instead, he tumbled backwards, and closer towards the edge of the stage. May, feeling lucky, went for another punch.
Connected again.
Third one?
Connected.
Fourth one?
Connected.
Fifth one?
Connected.
By now, the X-Convict was at the very edge of the stage, and the fans started to roar in anticipation of what was to come. Quinton sucked up all the pain present in his body at the moment and took a couple of steps backwards. This would be the true knockout blow, and he had to do it right. With a low grunt, he charged forward.
108192 eyes widened. He had been limp for the last couple of moments, but he had to come to life now.
And he did, crouching to send Quinton May flying over his body. And off the stage, at the same time.
....
....
Terminal velocity reached.
....
*CRASH*
Guess what? Go on. Come on, this will be fun. Oh, alright, have it your way. Having been back body-dropped off the stage wasn't enough for Quincy Mama. He had the terrible luck of landing... well, not on the concrete. Wait, that should be good. Right? Yeah, if you think that instead of crashing onto the concrete, going through a table is perfectly wonderful.
Well, you'd be correct. If you're a fan of 108192, that is. Match tied at 1-1.
The chase was now officially... on.
SECOND FALL: 108192.
The crowd were completely stunned. They certainly didn't see that curveball coming, but all 108192 could do was smile. Staggering down the ramp, he incited a fresh wave of jeers by raising his arms in the air, having possibly *killed* Quinton May. Of course, the fans knew otherwise... but with one fall left in the match, it meant more probably punishment from the X-Convict. Stopping at the bottom of the ramp, 108 looked up at the rafters, at the steel cage.
Waiting for 108192 and Quincy to get into the ring, before it came down and trapped the two gladiators for the final chapter in their storied war.
The X-Convict now made his way down the aisle, and towards the technical support area, spotting Quinton May laying
amidst the broken pieces of wood. If only this was a Falls Count Anywhere match-up, 108192 thought. Alas, he would have to get Quincy into the ring, wait for the cage to come down, THEN dream about getting the victory.
The first part seemed to be easy to accomplish. The bald-headed mofo of ACW grabbed the unconscious Canadian by his legs and started to DRAG him towards the ring, figuring the faster that was accomplished, the faster his glorious moment of victory would arrive.
Reaching the ringside area, finally, it seemed Quincy had roused back to life... but he was still too weak to do anything. Dragging him around the ring, 108192 noticed that the cage had started to lower. He smiled, and again raised his arms, spiting the crowd. Causing them to hiss and scream at him. All this gave the red-haired Canadian a chance to recover.
A chance Quinton May was going to lap up.
Quinton got back to his feet, and spat at 108192. A move that seemed to suck all the life out of the weakened Quincy Mama. The X-Convict was enraged, and immediately tried to strike him down with a right. Quincy blocked it and fired back with a right of him own, before viciously drilling 108192 with a sidekick.
The force of which caused the ex-prisoner's head to crash into the steel ring-post.
"HOLY SHIT!!"
"HOLY SHIT!!"
"HOLY SHIT!!"
Grinning, but still fuming over the somewhat cheap way he lost the first fall, The Dictator of QA grabbed a hold of 108's bald head and sent him slamming into the announce table, before starting to kick away at him. The referee, for some odd reason, tried to break it up, but got shoved away. Trying again, the referee managed to pry Quincy away from 108192, but for putting his hands on the Dictator... he paid. Big time.
With a tremendous right jab squarely into his face, breaking his nose possibly.
Meanwhile, the cage's descent was halted, as the combatants had not re-entered the ring.
All this gave 108192 to crawl away and help himself up. Now leaning against the barricade near the timekeeper's table, 108192 grabbed a hold of a folded-up steel chair and waited until The Dictator of QA finished coughing, gasping for air. Turning around and approaching the X-Convict, the Canadian was taken by surprise, as 108 spun around and...
*CRACK*
Well, that explains it all.
108192 stood over the dazed Quinton and smiled sadistically while tossing the chair about in his hands. The crowd were now hushed, wondering what was going on. Unknown to them, 108192 was looking down at.... no, not Quincy.
His former prison guard.
*CRACK*
*CRACK*
*CRACK*
*CRACK*
*CRACK*
Cut back to the present; Pain-or-Pleasure. The crowd were stunned at what had just transpired. 108192... the insane 108192 had just beaten the life out of Quinton with five chair shots. Throwing the chair down, 108192 started to chuckle maniacally. It was borderline psychotic.
The X-Convict pulled the lifeless Quincy up and slapped him. Once, twice, three times. No response. A kick to the gut. Still, The Dictator of QA didn't fire back. The life had been completely drained out of him, following those five chair-shots. All he did was double over, coughing... him arms flailing about.
108192 didn't care.
*CRACK*
A double-underhook piledriver onto the steel-chair. Quinton's own finisher, being executed on the Canadian In Quincy's mind, a memory from his M15 was jolted . His neck was burning up now, the threshold of pain having been surpassed. He winced and grimaced... but the red-haired Canadian didn't have the voice to express his agony.
108192 didn't care.
He grabbed Quincy by the arms and pulled him towards the steel-steps, the sadistic smile seemingly woven onto his face. The fans in the front-row knew what was coming, and tried to convince 108192 not to do it. But they weren't talking to 108192. They were talking to an absolutely deranged individual and that was purely evident by now.
*CRACK*
Another double-underhook piledriver onto the steel-steps. More blood poured out of Quinton May's head.
Quincy's head bounced off the steps, and his body crashing down onto the concrete, totally devoid of any life or any fight. He was as good as gone. His neck... if it hadn't already given way, it would the next time 108192 even punched him. It was THAT bad, folks.
Everybody in attendance was dead silent now. They knew... it was over.
Walking over, 108192 kicked Quinton May in the face, and picked him up... rolling him into the ring. At the same time, the referee had also recovered, and
signalled for the cage to complete its rightful descent. 108192, meanwhile, pulled himself onto the apron and climbed to the top of the turnbuckle. Still in a trance. His eyes now fixated on the lifeless body of Quincy Mama.
Lifeless Quinton.
Lying invitingly in the middle of the ring, bloody now pouring like the river Nile out of his temple.
108192 DID NOT CARE a single ounce.
Jumping off, the fans stood and watched... 108192 was about a second away from knocking Quinton out with a flying elbow drop. One that would eventually win him the third fall, and the match. But as far as the audience was concerned, the means to which he got there... lost him some respect.
Like the X-Convict cared about that, anyways.
*CRASH*
As it were, the Dictator SOMEHOW managed to roll a little to his left, and 108192 crashed down to the mat, missing. Explosive cheers filled the arena, and now, the steel cage had been completely lowered, setting the stage for this final part of the majestic battle thus far. As if they wanted to show how appreciative they were of that, a chant broke out.
In hopes of rousing him back to life.
"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"
It seemed to be paying off. Quinton started stirring to life, and was now using the ropes to help himself up. It was beginning to get exciting for everyone in the arena, especially for the members of Quinton's Army, wherever they were. They were gripped by the match so far... and at the sight of 108192 getting up as well, everybody knew this was going to be the crucial period of the match.
Turning around, absolutely woozy, The Dictator of QA found himself instinctively ducking a clothesline from 108192. But as the latter himself turned around, looking for the opening that would lead to him winning, May had a surprise for him.
Three simple words.
HIGH-LEG CLOTHESLINE.
The move turned 108192 inside out, and the crowd began to roar their little hearts out. Quinton was back in the match, and watched as he made the cover... bloodied face and all;
ONE...
TWO...
THREE...
So close, yet... so fucking far.
108192 somehow managed to kick out, and the epic clash still hadn't climaxed. It was still being waged, completely to the surprise of everyone watching at home. How much longer would it rage on, they wondered. It was inhuman, what Quincy & 108192 were doing.
Tell that to them. Go on, I dare you. Right, you can't. Because you're in awe. Admit it.
.... Good boy/girl/alien.
Now then, both men returned to their feet, their fists clenched. They turned around, nose-to-nose. Eyes locked on each other. And they stopped there, deciding not to go through with whatever they may have had planned. Instead, they just stood there, staring at each other. The atmosphere began to get tense, and frantic. Everybody knew that this was it. The final stretch. Do or die.
108192 or Quinton May.
One man left standing, the other lost in the sands of time.
"You ready, bitch?"
Quinton smirked at the insult. Bitch? He wasn't used to being call that, but that was of no concern now.
"I've been ready all my life. Whatever I remember of it."
"Right, you have memory loss, yeah? You told me you were in some prison where they made you fight."
"Something like that."
The fans were confused. The two enemies, having gone to Hell and back, with the match still up for grabs, were... conversing? What was this, a cop-out? No, simply the prelude to mayhem. The icing on the cake. The calm before the storm. The foreplay before intercourse. Whatever, you get the idea by now. It was critical that they had this talk.
"Now, you gonna fight me like you fought in that place."
Quincy pondered the answer.
"No. I've proven myself as a fighter. I'm gonna... wrestle."
And it was on.
Right, right... right, right... right, right. Okay, that's confusing. Quincy, 108192... Quincy, 108192... Quincy, 108192.... 108192 blocked a punch, went for a hook. May ducked, drove his fist into the chest of the X-Convict, drove his knee into the gut of his nemesis... before scoring with another snap DDT.
108192 rolled away, wincing, but he was quick to recover. Quincy too was swift in his recovery, and knocked 108192 down with a clothesline, before taunting his opponent to arise. The X-Convict was agitated, and as he jumped back up, he tried to connect with a sidekick. May caught 108's leg though, and smiled, before executing a leg-screw.
The bald-headed mofo screamed out in frustration. He was getting schooled, and he was hating it.
Back to his feet, 108192 found that May had no intentions of letting his assault go to waste, as he kicked the ex-prisoner in the spine, causing 108192 to crash into the mesh of the steel-cage. Staggering backwards, he walked right into yet another typical move from Quinton May. Who'd dished out enough of that throughout the night to make the pure wrestling fan happy.
A Russian leg-sweep.
Followed up, almost inevitably, by the cover;
ONE...
TWO...
THR...
Nope, not quite. 108192 was hanging on for dear life. Somehow, some way... the X-Convict now found himself to be completely out of his element. Even though Quincy hadn't proven himself to be an overpowering wrestler, he was... on the night... proving to be as good as anybody in the business. And in terms of fighting, he was also showing shades of how good he was in M15.
Getting back up, Quincy was stunned to receive a low-blow from 108192. An obvious act of desperation from the
baldie, who then rose to his feet and whipped the red-haired Canadian into the ropes. The impact of the whip made sure the effect of the steel cage was
neglible, and as Quincy returned, 108192 tossed his foe over his head, in another back body-drop.
Or so he thought; May merely rolled over his head and landed on his feet, connecting with a wonderful sitdown neckbreaker as 108192 regained his vertical base. Not wasting any time, Quinton hooked the legs;
ONE...
TWO...
THRE...
Kid wasn't about to give up so easily. QM cursed under his breath while pulling 108192 up, and fired away with a variation of punches to his body... finally knocking him out with an uppercut. The crowd had found their voice and were cheering Quincy on again. He staggered over and attempted to pull 108 up again, but the latter responded with an uppercut with his own. Standing up, he tried to connect with a powerful jab but May swatted his hand away as if it was nothing, and rammed his right knee into his gut.
And again. And again. Following up with front-face sitdown neckbreaker. And another cover;
ONE...
TWO...
THR...
Exasperation formed on the Canadian's face as he rolled onto his side and forced himself up. The tenacity of 108192 was proving to be a serious threat to his quest at the moment. May bided his time as the 108192 helped himself up, and then from behind, the dictator of QA grabbed his opponent's bald head, grinning while doing so. Before driving his knee into the lower-back of 108192, and attempting to follow up with a reverse DDT.
Spot on. Yet another hook of the legs;
ONE...
TWO...
THRE....
Yet again, the X-Convict hung on. He was in a mountain of trouble now, getting absolutely hammered. Quincy was living up to his promise, and was wrestling his way to victory. Trouble was, the crowd reject was proving to be one heck of a immortal-like bastard. However, the crowd watched as Quincy Mama pulled 108192 up and twisted his right arm in an arm-wrench...
And followed up with a vile roundhouse kick right into 108192's face. Absolutely dead center.
The vile knockout blow was just that; vile. But hey, whatever you gotta do to win the match. Certain that victory was now his, Quinton May made the cover, as the crowd readied himself;
ONE...
TWO...
THREEEEEEEE....
OHMYGODTHATFUCKERACTUALLYKICKEDOUT!
HOWTHEFUCKDIDTHEBASTARDDOTHATFORTHELOVEOFCHRIST?
ISHESOMEKINDOFSUPERIMMORTALSONOFABITCHORWHATBECAUSEIFHEISTELLMENOW!
Quinton May tugged at his hair, unable to fathom how 108192 was still in this thing. Moments ago, it seemed as if
Quincy was staring down the jaws of defeat but now, 108192 was going down that route. He wasn't about to give up, no matter how little was left in his tank.
And as Quincy tried to pull his adversary up, the X-Convict proved that
statement correct; yet another low-blow.
And then... what was this? 108192 was scurrying away?
Yep.
No joke.
No siree.
With Quincy Mama on the mat, cursing, 108192 had scrambled over to the mesh of the cage, and actually started to climb up the side, towards the top. The crowd hissed, now
labeling the baldie a coward. He had every right to try and get himself out this match, however, considering that he hadn't been able to get any major offense in, sans the brutal mauling before the two men were trapped inside this cage.
Funny, 108 would have guessed the cage would have helped him secure victory. It only set the stage for Quincy to show off his technical
prowess.
Now, almost at the top, 108192 looked down, expecting to see Quincy still plastered to the canvas. Wrong. The red-haired Canadian was giving chase, as he wasn't about to let the object of his hate escape. 108192 now picked up the pace, but the schooling he'd received by Quincy made sure it was a slow ascend to the top. For, as he reached there and attempted to throw his right leg over the top, Quinton May had already caught him with him.
So, 108192 did the best thing he could do.
Eye gouge. Followed by a barrage of stinging right hooks, a blatant attempt at trying to send May crashing down to the canvas.
The Dictator of QA hung on, much to the relief of the crowd, and actually fired back with a left cross-hook. It hardly fazed the X-Convict though, as he tugged at Quincy's hair and smashed his face into the cage. Not once, not twice...
But thrice.
Quinton was teetering on his career, now. One more massive "bump", and he was sure to be out of commission for a long time. As it were, he held on... and stunned 108192 with a cross-right jab. One that connected cleanly, and almost sent the ex-prisoner flying down the mat. And as if the battle at the top of the cage wasn't thrilling enough, Quincy now repaid his nemesis a debt. The little matter of face-against-steel.
*SMASH*
*SMASH*
*SMASH*
Three shots. But wait, that wasn't all.
*CRASH*
The impact of the last face-against-steel smash saw 108192 lose his grip on the cage, and he dropped down to the canvas, freefalling. The sound generated when his spine crashed down onto the canvas was totally sickening.
Quinton May himself was stunned with what he had done.
Before, amazingly, he jumped onto the top of the cage... and balanced himself, before standing.
Stretching his arms, like some sort of messiah, here to save the world. Then, the fans realised what Quinton May was up to.
Elbow.drop.off.the.top.of.the.fucking.cage.
*CRASH*
"HOLY SHIT!!"
"HOLY SHIT!!"
"HOLY SHIT!!"
"HOLY SHIT!!"
"HOLY SHIT!!"
"HOLY SHIT!!"
"HOLY SHIT!!"
"HOLY SHIT!!"
"HOLY SHIT!!"
It HAD to be over. The arena literally exploded with the loudest round of cheers recorded in ACW history. The final nail in the coffin had been delivered and
Quincy, who was absolutely out of it, just managed to roll on his side enough to get his arm across the body... the limp and battered body of 108192;
ONE.................
............
TWO.................
.............
.............
....
....
THREEEEEEEEEEEEE.....................
....
....
....
....
....
....
....
....
....
....
....
....
....
....
....
....
....
....
....
....
....
....
....
....
THIRD FALL: QUINTON MAY.
YES! IT WAS OVER! QUINTON MAY DID IT!
It was over. FINALLY.
The mayhem had ended. The battle had ended. The epic war had come to a close. Quinton May was victorious, and he did it in the most glorious way possible. In the process, he'd proved that... he COULD wrestle, and do it well.
The fans... every single one of them... stood up. And clapped. Cheering, for their hero. Quinton May.
Quincy got to his feet, dazed and confused. For a second, he couldn't remember where he was. Then, it all came back to him. He raised his arms in the air. He had done it.
Quinton Lindsey May had done it.
He was the winner. And 108192... was the loser.
And that, my friends, was the end of this majestic story.
Winner: Quinton
May
Cruisin'
On The Streets
El Janitors & The Kole Brothers danced outside the Issac Champman
Delicatessen, the place where the four men had just had their dinner at. The place also had several television screens telecasting the ACW extravaganza, and everybody had just witnessed one hell of a war being waged. One between Quinton May & 108192. And you wouldn't have to think twice over the outcome, seeing how both Howard & Morris were dancing like crazy freaks.
Quincy won. And finally disposed of 108192, once & for all. Redemption had finally been earned, and QA were once again a force to be reckoned with.
The four men traded high-fives,
amidst weird glares from onlookers, and continued to celebrate the Dictator's victory. For some reason, Andi & Joey joined in on the celebrations. Maybe El Janitors had thought that The Kole Brothers would be useful additions to The Army, and hence, had started bonding with them. In any case, neither one of the four men noticed a black pick-up truck pull up by the sidewalk.
"HE FREAKING WON! YEAAAAAH! QUINTON IS FREAKING AWESOME! YEEEEAAAAAH!!"
"Whoo hoo! Yeah, Quincy is one wicked mofo, and I'm glad I'm working for him! Whoo! Viva la Army! Viva la Army!"
The Kole Brothers, watching on, were enjoying this joyous occasion... and it seemed nothing could spoil the night for them. Firstly, they'd met up with El Janitors. Secondly, they had dinner. Thirdly, it was safe to assume that a deal with the UNOFFICIAL ACW Tag Team Champs had been worked out with regards to Quinton's Army. And fourthly, their apparent new leader won one heck of a match.
What could possibly go wrong on the night?
Oh, maybe the towering figure of Vincent Pembridge sneaking up on El Janitors, with a steel pipe in his hands?
*CRACK*
*SMASH*
Yep, that. Joey & Andi screamed at the top of their lungs, before turning on their heels and running away. Vincent threw the pipe down to the ground and started stomping the shit out of El Janitors, as innocent bystanders began to hurl obscenities at him. The British Degenerate paid no attention, as he laughed, before finally deciding he had enough arse-kicking for one night. After all, there was a recent he was still
bare bodied as he was a long while ago, while fighting inside the New Orleans Arena.
Why was he in an apparent rush?
"Told you cunts to stay out of my business. Now, it's just a matter of destroying you pillocks slowly! Remember, you lot asked for this.
And you know what, cunts?
Ask, and ye shall receive!"
Another round of guffawing from Pembridge as he retreated back to his vehicle, which quickly speeded away just as a mob had formed, attending to the broken bodies of El Janitors. Last week, on thReat's show, Morris & Howard had pulled one over Vincent. This week, the latter repaid the favour.
And in the best way possible. Off he went, into the darkness.
Towards the arena in which thReat's Sunday Night Flaw 17 was being held.
Second Match – Parking Lot Brawl
Jason Kain Vs. Osyrus
Kain looked at Osyrus. There were no count-outs to end the match here. There was nothing holding Osyrus back from thrashing the hell out of him.
This wasn’t a match to win.
This was a match to survive.
Osyrus glared back at Kain. There was no rules here, and he knew Kain wasn’t up for a beating now. But there was nothing holding Kain back from doing something desperate. Desperate animals have been known to do amazing things when they’re cornered, or in danger. And this was no different.
This wasn’t a match to win.
This was a match to survive.
Over the loudspeaker a bell rang, but there was minimal movement as Kain and Osyrus just stared at each other. The sneers on their faces haven’t flinched once. But almost as quickly as the grabbed them… they were swinging. A metal pipe in
Osyrus' hand. A set of bolt-cutters in Kain’s.
They came prepared to survive.
Kain swung hard, but Osyrus ducked under the swing… Osyrus instead, spun around driving the end of his pipe into Kain’s stomach. Kain wobbled back, but didn’t let go of his bolt-cutters. Osyrus sneered, but that didn’t make Kain let go, either… instead it just made Kain suck in the pain and slam the cutters into
Osyrus' chest, sending him flying back to the front end of a car. Kain was quick to take advantage, swinging down hard with the cutters… but Osyrus dodged, making Kain put a sizeable dent in the hood of the car. Kain grabbed Osyrus in a necklock to keep him in place, but Osyrus pulled himself out of the hold and smirked, climbing onto the hood.
Kain wasn’t fooled though, as he grabbed
Osyrus' legs out from under him, sending him back first into the windshield of the car. In the background a car starter was heard, but it didn’t affect
Osyrus' look of pain as the glass splintered into his back. It didn’t affect Kain’s look of hatred as he stood over Osyrus, spitting on him.
But it did affect what happened next.
Osyrus rolled off the car, pushing himself to his feet, but Kain grabbed his arm, swinging him into the parking aisle. Swung back-first… into the moving car!
Osyrus flew to the floor, not moving. Kain had struck back with a move just as cheap and twisted as Osyrus had been, earlier in the card. And Osyrus was paying. Dearly.
Kain climbed over the still breathing Osyrus, covering him for the easy pin-fall. But the ref was very cautious about actually making the three count. Kain pointed to his ribs, and stated that the ref had counted him out earlier… making the match official instead of calling it. So it was his turn to take the cheap victory. The ref shook his head, but suddenly the door to the car opened, and Jade stepped out. She smirked at Kain, then took her shirt off. Revealing a striped ref’s shirt, and a notice from SilverHAWK. The ref read it out loud.
“If the match is called off for any reason… the officiating ref will be fired, and replaced. The match will end with a true victor. No matter what.”
The ref gulped. Then slid next to the pin. Counting VERY slowly.
One…
Two…
THREE.
Kain stood up and smiled at Osyrus… who hadn’t be really hit hard, just enough to shock him into not believing what had just happened. There wasn’t even a dent in the car, or any blood other than from the glass cuts.
Osyrus had been shat on. And
shat on good.
Winner: Jason
Kain Ties The Score at 1-1
An Animal Arrives
|
|
A black Cadillac came speeding into the car park at the back of the arena that is hosting ACW's annual Pain or Pleasure. A large daunting figure emerged from the vehicle, adorned in all black attire, which consisted of a leather jacket, shirt, and jeans. Covering his eyes were a pair of black silver rimmed sunglasses. He whipped them of his face and placed them into the breast pocket of his jacket.
The largely built man made his way toward the arena but upon his entrance was stopped by a small handful of security guards.
"Sorry sir but we are not allowed to authorize any members of the public beyond this point." Stated one of the more elderly looking sentinels.
The large man whose identity was still unfamiliar to all placed his paw like hand around the tag that lay upon the aforementioned guard's chest.
"Vince?" Grunted the behemoth of a man.
"Yeah that's my name."
"Well Vince you run inside that there lil arena and tell SilverHAWK that Jason
"Animal" Reaves has arrived." Retorted the now known Jason Reaves.
"Well I guess you must be the guy the boss was talking about, here take this it's your backstage pass." Said Vince as he handed over the small laminated tag hanging from a small piece of string.
"Thanks dawg." Replied Jason as he made his way through the doors and into the chaos that was the backstage area of ACW, various man and women running around all occupied with their own agenda.
Suddenly young women accompanied by a camera crew taped Jason on the shoulder; he turned and welcomed the group with a warm...
"Fuck off."
"Excuse me?" Answered back the young broad.
"I don't wanna cut no interviews, I'm here to take a look at some of the asses I'm gonna be kicking during my stay in ACW. So if you didn't understand what I said the first time here it is again... Fuck Off!"
"Well I never."
"Look lady just leave me alone,"
"But I've been told to interview you upon arrival, I'm just doing my job."
"Ok so you wanna know what Jason Reaves is all about?
You wanna know the ins and out of my live?
Well here goes, I'm a wrestler not through choice but through survival. I fight to make a living I've been doing it my whole life whether it was fighting in a broken down warehouse in front of 100 people or here in front of thousands, I don't care.
I fight for myself and myself only." Jason looked menacingly at the women and then into the camera.
His cold grey eyes could have cracked the lens as he stormed of in the other direction...
|
