- - [April 27th 2003] - -
Broadcasting LIVE! from San Antonio, TX at 10/9 p.m. CT

PREVIOUSLY... ACW was now on the road to it's first non-Winters PPV, but as it comes along, backstage influences and problems continue to threaten ACW as the roster shortage means ratings are slipping and pressure is being mounted on the current wrestling team...

Decisions

Somewhere, backstage Ivan Coe Uger walked the corridors; he wasn't focused on his purpose for doing so. Instead, all his attention was on his fight at Pain or Pleasure. Although he was trying not to take this to a personal level, Rivers had crossed the line and although he wasn't out for vengeance, he was determined to prove to Rivers that Ivan was the better son to their uniting mother. 

Only after repeating these thoughts for the twentieth time tonight, he realized he had passed the office. He gave a sign and rubbed his forehead, then turned and jogged back. His first gently rapped the door, as SilverHawk said... 

"Come in." 

Ivan closed the door behind for a private meeting with his boss and his so-called hero of his childhood years. SilverHawk was on the phone and kept his back toward Ivan until the click of the door was heard, SilverHawk ended his phone call and turned around and saw the champion in the mist of being right in front of him. 

"So I got your note that you wanted to see me." 

"Yeh, so how you feeling champ?" 

"I'm good now that I have earned some respect around here." 

"Listen here champ, just because you beat some old fucker and a former champion doesn't give you the right to have earned any respect...but I will say one thing, this cage match is a step in the right direction. Even though that federation had one messed up owner, it was still some decent TV, and if you wanna show just how messed up you are, you're going about it the right way. So with all this "respect" going around, I take it you're ready for your match tonight then?" 

"Whatever puts fans in those seats out there, I'll be ready for anything." 

"Well that's good but I didn't call you in here for that." 

Ivan's eyebrow raised with confusion as SilverHawk motioned for him to sit down. 

'I got a call earlier today saying something about that match come Pain or Pleasure that involves you and Rivers." 

The match that he was revering to was the all out brutal brawl that will be engage in a cage. Not just any cage thought it was a cage with no ring. A cage that has the possibility of endangering one's life. A match in which only reVenge would be taken. 

"Well I want to let you know that this is a family orientated show..." SilverHawk was only looking after the business and not the pure situation that he had on his hands. "But this this is a PPV; I'm going to allow it." 

Ivan's eyes shot with excitement as the match that was sure to be scrapped when SilverHawk opened his mouth was back on and the fans match a huge pop out in the arena. 

"Thanks." A chuckle came from Ivan as he stood up and left the room. 

"Now it's on."

Quinton's Army Meeting #008

The Army wasn't really back at full-force. Not everybody was at a 100%. But morale was high in the camp. So, it was no surprise when the door to the arena was kicked open, and in walked the gang. The group of men everybody had began to getting used to. The group of heroes that strived to be different and weren't ashamed of it at all.

Firstly, there was 006.392, a mere teenager. Unknown to all, he was attacked last week by a group of British teenagers, following the match between 108192 and Janitor Morris. Hence the reason he was missing from the big group reunion that transpired. Just as Courage went off the air the previous week, Quincy found him in the parking lot, being beaten to a bloody pulp.

And May could distinctly tell that the group of boys kicking 006.392's ass were British. Hired by none other than the new thorn in QA's side.

Vincent Pembridge.

006.392 was far from being completely recovered, but a whole week of recuperation and brooding whet his appetite for revenge. He was relishing the chance to corner The British Degenerate once and for all. The conflict had to be settled, and the YOUTH OF THE NATION; as Quinton labeled him; was eager for the showdown to come soon.

And then, there were the two cornerstones of The Army. Janitor Morris & Janitor Howard. El Janitors. The UNOFFICIAL ACW Tag Team Champions, a nickname given to them by their Dictator as a way to motivate them.

Howard & Morris looked banged up. Howard, due to the fact that he'd been kidnapped by 108192 and endured a week of torture. Morris, due to the fact that he was beaten up by 108192 while fighting for the possession of Howard. But they were here, living through the pain, walking tall and proud.

For weeks, they had disappointed Quinton with the crappy execution of their tasks. Now, however, they were slowly earning their keep. And with each passing day, they were getting over with their growing fan base.

Finally, there was Quinton May himself. The leader. Slowly becoming a cult hero, still in the midst of his many quests. Still embroiled in a bitter and dangerous war with 108192. After a few weeks, it seemed that 108192 was just too violent for May, but Quincy has come roaring back with power plays, and the whole thing was escalating week by week.

Now, as the four men walked down the hallway towards the boiler-room, sans members Ron Williams & ToK, each of them realised that on this night, they would have to make a real impact. For the big show, Pain-or-Pleasure, was the following week.

That would be QA's night.

The original foursome stopped at the door that led to the boiler room, as Quinton May turned around and looked at his forces. The men he had assembled over the past couple of weeks were now beginning to prove that Quincy was right in choosing them for their mission.

"Gentlemen, tonight... I will get revenge against 108192 TONIGHT. Steel Cage, baby. Now, however, it's time to scheme."

And with those words, and the announcement of a match... Quincy opened the door to the boiler room. The meeting room of The Army.

Tonight would prove to be most interesting for QA.

The Rise and Fall

After a one week absence from ACW- the reason for which had not been confirmed, he was back. ACWs Resident Weight Watcher…or not…as was the case….returned with a..

BANG!

The door which provides the entrance to the arena slammed, as in walked Ron Williams. The crowd in the arena gave a large pop as he walked in with a bottle of Coke in his hand. He swigged out of the bottle and then let out a massive burp which provoked much of the crowd into laughter. But this wasn’t the same Ron Williams that had been absent from last weeks Courage. This wasn’t the same Ron Williams who had been the victim of dozens of unprovoked attacks performed by Ms Hillary Small. This was Ron Williams…with a tan! 

He stroked his distinctively brown skin as the fans watching curiously stared down at what he was carrying in his “muscular” arms. Two suitcases. By now it was obvious that he had been on a holiday. He dropped both of the tartan suitcases and sighed as a member of the ACW Production team walked down the same corridor that he was residing in….

“Excuse me, I don’t suppose you could carry these to my locker room for me could you?” he asked in a childlike voice to the small man who removed the headset from his head and prepared to give an answer. Before he could however, Ron butted in. “Thank You” he said, handing the luggage to the man and walking off. The man looked at the tag on the luggage to see where it had came from. 

‘Blackpool’ it read, giving the crowd yet more cause for laughter. He shrugged and lifted the suitcases up before wobbling down the corridor. As Ron disappeared into the distance the entrance to the arena swung open once again, and in walked a muscular figure….man or woman (?). The crowd let out boos so loud for Hillary Small that they were barely audible. She walked at a steady pace, and then nudged her shoulder into the man carrying the luggage. 

He collapsed in an unceremonious heap – and she sniggered demonically. Hillary then walked round the corner and saw Ron…her arch nemesis. She stumbled against the wall ,out of sight – and then poked her head round the corner to see if the situation had changed. Indeed it had- as Ron had continued walking along the corridor. As Hillary turned the corner some items fell out of her trouser pocket. A set of Kodak pictures. As she picked the packet up one item slips out and is left behind. A picture of Ron Williams…..dated two days ago. In Blackpool. Hillary noticed the photograph and picked it up…before launching a ball of spit onto it. She scrunched it up in a ball and tossed it to the ground. 

The Rise of St. George had begun several hundred years ago.

And now, it was time for the fall.

Getting Ready For Some Revenge

Jason Kain stormed out of his locker-room, as water dripped off his chin. He'd been waiting for Courage for one whole week, simply because it was the chance at revenge. Oh so sweet revenge. Nobody touched his girl and got away with it.

Although the words of Jade still remained in his mind. She didn't need anyone to fight her battles.

"It's true..." Kain mumbled as he walked down the corridor, cracking his knuckles at the same time.

But Jason didn't care. All he cared about was getting revenge on ToK. All he wanted was to eradicate ToK and teach him a lesson. It would be a great warm-up for his ongoing battle with the former ACW champion, Osyrus. And really, it would get his blood pumping.

"Bastard's gonna pay."

Jason Kain Vs. ToK

  

It was over before it even began, to be honest. Nobody could have anticipated the match turning out the way it did. Let's see, where to start?

Okay, so ToK was walking down the ramp. Black shirt, black pants. Some lame song playing over the speakers, clouds of jeers raining down on him. Seemed like the bugger was enjoying it, too. Before Jason Kain appeared from behind the curtains. Guess he didn't want to or couldn't wait for the match to start properly. He came charging down the ramp and clotheslined ToK in the back of the head, drawing massive cheers.

Then, Kain started to kick away at ToK's spine. The referee jumped out of the ring and did a little dance~! Well, actually... he just slid out of the ring and tried to pry JK off ToK. To no avail, however. Kain simply pushed the referee away and continued stomping away at ToK. The fire in his eyes was tremendous... he was feeling genuine and pure hatred for ToK.

Simply because he'd laid his grubby hands on Jade.

"You bastard, you enjoying this? Huh? Punk ass motherfucker!"

With that said, Jason pulled ToK up and mercilessly whipped him into the steel-steps, the latter's head making quite an impact with the steel. As ToK slumped down to the padding, Kain walked over and drove his feet into the ribs of his opponent, the crowd not aware at all that the match hadn't even started. This, as far as the referee was concerned, was wrong.

But fuck, he just stood there and shouted like a maniac. As if that was going to work, heh.

Anyways, it all got ugly when Jason Kain walked over to the timekeeper's table and scared the pussy of a timekeeper away. Which left the chair vacant. Sooo... Kain picked the chair up and smiled as he folded it. ToK noticed this and began to attempt to crawl away, with JK approaching him, the fans knowing what was in store. Hell, a two year old baby could have told you what was in store.

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

Ten chairshots. TEN. T-E-N. Five plus five equals TEN. Kain threw the chair away, as ToK lay lifeless on the ground. The manic screaming and protesting of the referee grew louder, but the match hadn't officially begun. He couldn't do anything. Nope, not a damn thing.

Not until Jason Kain picked ToK up and effortlessly rolled the bugger into the ring.

*DING DING DING*

Then, Jason made the nonchalant cover;

ONE...

TWO...

THREE.

*DING DING DING*

And just like that, it was over. Jason Kain got up, spat at the lifeless body of ToK, and climbed out of the ring to retire to the back. It was as simple as that.

Now, it was time to focus on Osyrus.

The British Army Declares War

Vincent Pembridge paced back and forth in his room, looking calm. He'd decided to forego his revolution in thReat on the night, feeling he needed a break. Also realising he needed to take care of some unfinished business in ACW. More specifically, the person he'd tangled with on his second week in the company. A teenaged boy who went by the moniker of 006.392, a member of the group he'd "offended" on his ACW debut.

Quinton's Army.

How exactly did he offend QA? Need a blast from the past, eh?

Wearing a black short-sleeved shirt, black jeans, and black boots... Vincent began to walk down the ramp, a microphone in his hand. Some cheers began to ring out in the arena, for they were believing Vincent was back and a new signee to the company. They weren't wrong. They were, however, wrong to cheer him. As you all will soon find out.

"You three. Bloody tossers, you all are."

El Janitors and 006.392 looked at each other, confused and insulted. The cheering stopped, the crowd now opting to keep silent.

"It's bloody nice to be back in the thick of things here, but to see the likes of you three cunts wasting precious airtime? A bleeding shame. You twats are out here, rambling on about something that makes no bleeding sense at all. This whole company, to be honest, is a bleeding joke. Good thing I decided to stop by, eh?" he continued, now stepping through the ropes and into the ring.

El Janitors pushed the young 006.392 behind them, as the crowd began to boo. Heavily.

"Take, for example, that cunt you all call a World Champion. ICU. Intensive Care Unit. What kind of bleeding moniker is that, seriously? It's horrendous, and the bastard should be shot for using such a name. Then there's that tosser, Scott Perry. Sounds like a twat who would give himself a bloody self-anal. Horrible. And you three imbeciles. Just look at the three of you!"

The jeers continued to rain down on Vincent Pembridge, as he stood in front of El Janitors, grinning. Morris was fuming mad by now.

"YOU FREAKING BALDY YOU! WHO DO YOU FREAKING THINK YOU FREAKING ARE?!"

Just as the crowd erupted in cheers, Vincent threw the mic down onto the mat and kicked Morris in the gut, before flooring Howard with a terrific left cross-hook, before turning his attention back to Morris. How? A knife-edge chop to his throat, of course.

Windpipe Smash.

That just left 006.392 in the ring, terrified to the skin of his bones now. Vincent smiled, and raced forward to prevent the kid from escaping the ring, knocking him down to the mat with a hard club to the back of the head. Howling in agony, 006.392 soon found The Scorpion Of Manchester's hand around his throat. And in one fluid motion, Vincent raised the youngster into the air, spun around, and slammed him down to the canvas with a chokeslam.

The destruction was complete.

"Who am I, you asked? Vincent Pembridge. And ACW, this old grand lady, is totally fucked."

Throwing the microphone he'd just picked up out of the ring, Vincent Pembridge slithered out of the ring, the jeers of the crowd almost deafening now. It seemed as if the ACW now had a scorpion within their ranks, and one who seemed angrier than usual.

The Scorpion Of Manchester smiled as he remembered the transcript of the Legends PPV he had read, detailing his involvement in the show. Since then, Vincent's gotten tangled up with 006.392. Who, following a beatdown at the hands of the Brit the show after Legends, had been trying to get himself prepared for another showdown with Pembridge. Of course, the latter had given no indication then that he was returning, seeing how he had a massive plan to unfold in thReat.

But 006.392 digging up files and files of information on Vince has made the Scorpion infuriated. Thus, the forming of a British Army. Tons of British teens, bored out of their skins and ready to show the "Yanks" who were the tougher hooligans. These were the ruffians that, in an unaired segment last Sunday, beat the crap out of 006.392 and left him for dead.

Folding his arms, Vincent P stopped pacing and turned his head to the right, facing the group of boys that was The British Army. One group had been assigned to thReat, another to ACW... and a third elsewhere, doing some other secret project. On this night, the same 10 boys that had kicked the snot out of 006.392 last week were present. All dressed in black, all with solemn expressions woven onto their faces.

Each and single one of them ready to do Pembridge's bidding.

"Boys, tonight... we're going to send out another message to an irritating twat who prides himself on sneaking around with files on me. Tonight, The British Army officially declares war on those cunts, Quinton's Army!"

Ten salutes brought an even bigger smile to the British Degenerate's face, and it was set. A war of the armies was set to be waged.

Question was, how long would it rage? And also, who'd end up on the losing end?

Let it unravel.

Hungry Man

People get hungry sometimes you know? No matter what place it is, people get hungry. Normal people may wait until they have their next meal time. Lunch? Dinner? They will most obviously wait or get a slight snack, but not Ron. Ron orders food when he wants it and how he wants it and there was no exception today as he waited on the phone for an answer to his call. 

‘Di Gradi Pizza, can I take your order?’ 

That was the squeaky voice of the individual at the other end of the phone. 

‘Pizza! Everything on it. Biggest you got. That’s how I like it baby! ‘ 

Ron is now proceeding to dance doing what looks like the limbo however there is no pole. 

‘Okay Sir, we will give you the Di Gradi special. That will be $22 sir.’ 

That was in one of them Fake Italian/American voices. You know one of them people who thinks because they work at an Italian, they need to explore ridiculous ways on how to change their voice to suit their job description? 

‘Chump change baby for Ron Williams. I’m at the arena so I need it delivering. I’m a wrestler you know.’ 

Ron had one of them voices which kids used to put on when telling someone there daddy is a banker or something. 

‘Ok Ron the pizza will be around 35 minutes. Thanks for calling’ 

The employee cuts the call short obviously on some type of schedule. 

‘And I will be waiting for it. See you later ALLIGAOR!!!!’

Matter of the Lesser Evil

Jason Kain looked in the mirror.

“Lord, give me strength…”

Philippians 4:13 flowed through his head like water, making him continuously aware of the only supernatural power in the universe. God. But the constant nagging that Osyrus seemed to be making backstage, stating he WAS God, and that he was the single solitary one to have right to the ring… it was getting to the point where Kain just wasn’t handling it too well anymore.

Behind him crumbled the remains of a table he had thrown across the room in disgust at the speech Osyrus had had in the locker room before the show had started. Something about him being THE main event, and that everyone else that was hanging around the ring at the time he had entered it, we just guests on his holy ground. That comment didn’t seem to be appeasing ANYONE, let alone Jason Kain. Kain had walked out of the main dressing room early, holding his head as if someone were talking to him from the inside… but the problem was… someone was.

Kain looked at the wall, it seemed a lot farther away than it truly was. The voice in his head was that of his own… somehow reasoning to himself NOT to just deck Osyrus right there in the locker room. Just to wait until the bastard was by himself.

“By himself, huh?” Kain looked back up to the broken mirror, he couldn’t remember how he broke it, but the blood on his fist was fresh, so it must have been in the last few minutes… but he did have an idea. “By himself…”

Kain stood to his full height, then turned toward the door. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his hand and walked out, quickly turning toward the arena entrance

El Janitors Vs. ...?

  

"Answer The Phone" by Sugar Ray began to blare over the arena's speaker system. Out came El Janitors. The crowd were confused for a few moments when the song started up, not recognized to whom it belonged to. And as the two janitors walked confidently down the ramp, everybody was still wondering why they had changed their theme. That was of no concern, however. Now, everybody was thinking just why were El Janitors in the ring.

And acting normal, surprisingly. Morris would usually be pacing about like a sex-deprived monkey, while Howard would be gyrating lewdly. Not this time, nope.

Janitor M got a microphone from the crowd, and nodded appreciatively, as the crowd simmered down. Morris always had a certain charisma enemating from him as he spoke, and everyone was eager to capture that special talent of his. Howard leaned against the ropes and folded his arms, smiling at the response that El Janitors were getting on the whole.

"HELLO PEOPLE. EL JANITORS ARE FREAKING BACK AS A FREAKING TEAM!"

He hadn't lost it. Nope, tremendous roars of jubilation rang out in the arena. The two men were indeed back together, after going through a while of separation, no thanks to the antics of 108192.

"I AM FREAKING OUT HERE FOR ONE REASON. JADE. THAT FREAKING CRAZY WOMAN, JADE. ALL WE WANT IS ONE MORE FREAKING CHANCE. FIGHT US, EL FREAKING JANITORS. YOU FREAKING WIN, WE FREAKING STOP ANNOYING YOU. WE FREAKING WIN, YOU FREAKING JOIN US. IT'S THAT FREAKING SIMPLE!"

It was safe to say that nobody had ever heard ANYONE in the history of the company say the word FREAKING that many times. With each gripping promo, Morris was breaking records. But now, the intentions of the UNOFFICIAL ACW Tag Team Champions had been made known. Their objective had been revealed. And it was as simple as procuring Jade, for the sake of strengthening QA.

That's just how simple it really was.

"Unwanted" by Avril Lavinge started up and out came Jade, who looked ready to fight. The fans, naturally, cheered as she made her way down the ramp and into the ring. And as she nodded her head as Morris, the latter threw his microphone out of the ring. Seemed as if Jade was going to fight for this, and hopefully, end up winning. The annoyance of El Janitors would be ended, as promised.

*DING DING DING*

A sidekick to Morris, a clothesline to the startled Howard who'd exploded out of the corner... but The Jaded One was intent on making a real statement here. She was fighting for her own sanity, really, and as El Janitors got back up... a double clothesline with a vengeance seemed to have done the UNOFFICIAL ACW Tag-Team Champions in. For good.

Not as such, nope. To their credit, Morris & Howard struggled back up... and Howard made the first move, charging at Jade with a mighty roar. A simple sidestep and a well-executed hiptoss put an end to that threat, but the lumbering Morris was another proposition altogether. His height and strength because of his size was always going to be a problem of sorts for Jade.

It showed, as he clubbed Jade across the back, sending her falling to her knees. Then, he kicked at the right shoulder socket of his female opponent. Before picking her up and sending The Jaded One flying into the ropes. Jade ducked the clothesline that Janitor M had prepared, and her speed saw her bounce off the parallel set of ropes in no time at all.

Following which, a brilliant spinning heel-kick saw Morris toppled and stumbling out of the ring in record time.

Leaving the vulnerable Howard, who was back on his feet and staggering into the path of Jade, who had an evil grin on her face.

*SMASH*

A reverse DDT, and a hook of the legs;

ONE...

TWO...

THREE!!

That was all she wrote. The fans celebrated; yes, they liked El Janitors too, but Jade was obviously more appealing to the eye. Unknown to her, however, her old nemesis ToK had limped out from the back, and began making his down the ramp. At the same time, two British teenagers had jumped over the barricade behind the announce table and made a beeline for El Janitors, who had regrouped. They knew they had lost the chance to secure Jade's entry into The Army, and had no more chances of doing so.

Now, however, they were on the run from Vincent Pembridge's lackeys. And the chase was on, as the two janitors jumped into the crowd and made their escape, the Brit teens hot on their trails. Meanwhile, however, Jade had noticed ToK... who'd stopped at the bottom of the ramp, with a microphone in his hand.

What next?

"Jade. This is going to be simple. You and me, at the PPV. I win, you become my slave, as all women are meant to be, really. If by some twisted luck, YOU manage to win... I'll never bother you again. In fact, I'll retire from the ACW. It's as simple as that. Are you game enough?"

Jade grabbed the rope and hissed in anger. The audacity ToK had, she thought. But she was never one to back down from a challenge. And this was a wonderful opportunity for even sweeter revenge.

"Hell Yeah!"

With that exclaim of approval, overflowing with gusto... a date had been signed. ToK versus Jade, with a hell of a lot on the line.

Winner: Jade

Partners? Yeah Right.

ACW came back from intermission as the ACWtron lit up; showing footage of the backstage area, where two figure's shadows could been seen turning the corner. 

"I thought you said that if you didn't get your match last week, or your demands weren't met... we were going to leave?!" Hysteria evident in the voice of Osyrus' valet, Isis. The duo turned the corner; Osyrus with a serious and pissed off looked in his eyes, gym bag on his right shoulder as he opened the door and entered his locker room. 

"Yeah, I did say that but of course... ACW was going to find some way to screw me out of the title again! Sending down their little sinner to do their evil dirty work. But they don't understand yet, that my plans are bigger than their whole federation. ACW doesn't understand that I am only doing god's bidding... and as much as they fear me; they'll never understand that I am not the evil one... THEY ARE. I am only following god's instructions for me; seeing as I am a god myself. This is god's way... and if they don't understand, then I will have to teach them... in a very painful way." 

A knock suddenly sounded on the door. Isis and Osyrus quickly turned around, as the door was still wide open... The former champ rose his fist into the air, but he slowly dropped his hand to his side. His slight smirk appeared on his face; Osyrus was pleasantly surprised to receive a visit from ACW's #1 contender... 

Dane Rivers 

"Oh look Ossie, It's our friend Dane." Sarcasm was the ACW couple's most dangerous, weapon of choice. 

"Don't call me that... I hate that name." Osyrus quickly fired back, remembering the name he was called by Ivan's son... when he made his appearances in ACW. Isis just rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders as she plopped down on their leather couch. 

"Excuse me, if I am interrupting your lover's spat...but I came to talk tragedy for tonight's match. If that's okay with you champ?" Dane entered the locker room as he closed the door behind him. Osyrus started to circle Rivers before he stood in front of the door, as if Rivers was trapped and there was nowhere to run. 

"It's okay with me Dane. And you better refer to me as champ, but I like it better if you called me the man. Hell, I am the industry's best... that title suites me, like jobber suites Kain." 

Everyone in the locker room chuckled to themselves as Osyrus continued. "But in all seriousness, you better have a fucking strategy if you really think that you are going to take the title from ICU before I do. Running people off of the road; run-ins with weak ass looking chair shots may have gotten you over in all the other places you have been... but it won't work here. And it sure ass hell won't work if I become champ again." 

Isis nodded her head in agreement; then she started to shudder as Rivers was in Osyrus' face in seconds. Both massive superstars stood toe to toe; nose to nose as Dane was the first to break the stare down. 

"If my memory serves correctly, didn't I eliminate you and your little buddy Alias, to become the number one contender? And you call yourself the industry's best... well Osyrus, I think there's a new number one in town!" 

The locker room suddenly grew silent as Osyrus just burned a hole through Dane; Isis got off of the couch as she stood next to her man... the two of them standing off against their alley for tonight. But Osyrus directed Isis to stand down; his smirk again was a picture, worth a thousands words. Who knew what that slight expression equaled to in Osyrus' cold and calculating mind. 

"You're doing just what ACW wants you to do Dane... causing conflict when it's not needed. Your little insults," Osyrus paused as he made the hand motions as he continued. "... You Rivers are the playing the role of the puppet right now... Walking right into the game that these officials want you to play. And I am not amused easily, especially when it comes mind games in ACW's conspiracy theory to keep me away from the top of the mountain. I know for a fact that ACW and the fans want me to get pissed off and kick your ass all over this locker room right now; but I am not going to do that." 

Dane just looked Osyrus up and down; Isis nodding in agreement as she patted Osyrus on the shoulder. 

"You really think that you can take me don't you Omar?! " Cocky smirk on the face of the number one contender, showed that he was ready for the challenge, if Osyrus accepted. 

"Of course he could, Old Man Rivers. You're just a rookie to him... he doesn't even to lower himself to your level!" 

"Shut Up!" Rivers yelled out as Osyrus put his arm in front of his beloved valet. 

"Enough!!!" Osyrus commanded as he stomped his foot on the ground. " I am going to forget about your stupid comments and focus on later tonight when we get Kain and the ACW champ in the ring... Like you should be doing Dane. But I don't feel like talking right now about strategy, we'll discuss this later on before the match. So until then... Get the fuck out of my locker room!" Osyrus opened the door, showing Rivers the way out. Rivers just stared down Osyrus as he slowly made his way to the door, before Isis called him back. 

"Hey Dane," He turned his head as Isis yelled in his direction, before she slapped the taste out of his mouth. "Osyrus said he won't touch you.. but I didn't promise a thing! Don't you ever yell at me again..." 

Dane swung his fist at Isis, which was easily blocked by Osyrus. 

"Save it for tonight Dane. Save it for tonight." He pointed to the hall, then slammed the door in Dane's face. 

"Let's get the fuck out of this arena Isis, the stench from these people is fucking killing me." 

"Ok." She replied softly as she picked her jacket off of the couch, then handed Osyrus his leather jacket. 

"Fucking ACW...When will they learn?!" Osyrus muttered as the two of them left the room, slamming the door shut behind them.

ETV – Episode II

“Tu conoces… I can get used to theez type of, como se dice? Ah, yes… FUN.” The voice sounded familiar, but the scene still didn’t show the face. But the black and white film showing Isis in the shower made the male crowd explode just the same. The steam and shower door was just high enough that nothing was truly visible, but the crowd still marked their approval.

“Oh come on, BAYBEE, tu conoces que mi tener…” The camera moved slightly, just as she turned around, showing a bit of butt crack, and the men in the crowd roared again. “You know you like the camera, BAYBEE…”

Suddenly the door on the left flew open and Osyrus walked in… obviously he had seen what was going on, up on the monitors. He looked extremely annoyed, looking around the room, then up toward the air vent…

“YOU GET THE HELL DOWN HERE, NOW!”

Suddenly the camera went to static.

Alias Vs Steve Christ

  

Build up?

Hype?

None. 

One word. 

Violence.

The lights go out and the crowd is sent into shock, anticipating who Alias’s opponent would be one week before Pain or Pleasure… one week before the man behind this all, the man from Alias’s and ACW’s past, would be revealed. Right now, though? ACW’s first out and out sanctioned fight.

“Antichrist Superstar” rips through the P.A. system.

dun dun HEY!

dun dun HEY!

dun dun HEY!

dun dun HEY!

dun dun HEY!

dun dun HEY!

dun dun HEY!

A massive WALL of 10 white flames come up from the entrance way, kicking out left to right yo the corresponding beats in the song. BOOM! Then the WALL of white flames is lit up all at once as the arena lights kick back up… and there he stands.

“The Second Coming”… Steve Christ.

The man who revolutionized the extreme fighting division of the Asylum slowly walked down to the ring, this was only his second wrestling match of the year… his first, being against KSZ of Action!, was a loss. He ran a hand through his jet black hair, a long scar evident on his right arm. As long as the literal briefcase full money that he got for this fight didn’t disappear… he didn’t really care if this one was a loss either. What the money, from that ever elusive mystery man, DID guaranteed however was that every move would be geared for maximum fuck-you-up ability… though Steve didn’t hate ACW’s Pulp Hero, it’s not like he liked him either.

“Not Over” by The Full Nine

Fireworks exploded from the top of the stage as Alias’s music blared out over the arena speakers and the Television Champion came out from behind the dark blue curtains, a strobe light illuminating his entrance. Alias threw a taped fist into the chair and yelled out into the crowd, earning a massive pop from the crowd. Flames burst up behind Alias as he passed by the top of the entrance. He slapped hands with several fans at the side of the ramp before garnering a microphone from his pocket. Christ stood in the ring, stone-faced and emotionless as always.

"Tonight, for the fans, I want to change the rules of this match, slightly. Hell… with Asylum’s own Steve Christ here, why not take full advantage. Let’s throw out the pinfalls, count-outs and DQ's. The only way either one of us can win… is by submission or knock-out. Hey, the announcer can call it Asylum rules if he wants. As long as you agree, Steve… let’s get this shit on."

Steve Christ only smiled and cracked his knuckles as he waited for the bell to sound and signal the start of the match.

It did.

Alias took a running start towards the ring, dropping the mic and unlatching the TV title belt from around his waist as he slid in the ring under the bottom rope. Steve Christ let the Original Pulp Hero stand up and the two men came face to face. The electricity in the arena came to a peak as both men clenched there fists, and the crowd cheered them on to throw the first punch.

CRACK!

It was on, Christ sent a malicious fist into Alias’s temple, rocking him back and dazing him momentarily, it didn’t take a second longer for response however, Alias returning a solid punch to Christ’s face, snapping back his head and swaying him back, snap… another shot from Christ, catching Alias on the chin and spinning him right around, as Alias turned stunned, Christ lunged in with a huge lariat, but Alias ducked, catching him in the back of the head with a wicked fist, and knocking him in turn with the momentum, to the canvas!

“BAM!” Alias roared, his adrenaline pumping as the crowd exploded with laughter as Christ sprung to his feet, a mixture of embarrassment and fury plastered across his face, there was no doubt that Christ was irate with Alias, who was just a fuckin wrestler, and this was proven by his next offence.

No relent.

Christ swooped in, catching the grinning Alias with an incredibly quick barrage of stunning knee’s to the ribs, each huge blow lifting Alias off his feet and leaving him gasping for air, suddenly, Christ struck again, catching Alias around the throat with a vice like grip, he could only see The Freak in front of him now, and was squeezing every last breath out of him.

Until he had the wind knocked out of him, too.

Alias struck out with the easiest and most effective attack, a solid knee to the groin, and it sufficed, as Christ backed up clutching his groin, Alias rubbed his throat and bruised and battered ribs, before attacking instinctively again, with a headbutt to the nose, a knee to the mid-section, and then an elbow to the top of the head, sending Christ to the mat.

Click Click BOOM!

Alias uses the time to stand Christ back up, as he follows through with piercing rights and lefts to the face of Christ. With Christ leaning back, Alias begins to pursue him, only to be met by the mat when Christ lunged forward and kicked Alias in the back of the knee. With Alias now on his face, Christ moved for more damage, smashing fists right down onto Alias’s back and kidneys, before the referee pulled Christ off. “Bullshit you striped bitch… don’t make me knock your ass out too. Just count when you need to.” Christ exclaimed loud and clear to the referee.

Christ began to pull Alias back up by the roots of his hair to get him back on his feet, but was met by a perfectly timed jawbreaker, causing a loud pop from the crowd. As Christ rocked back and into the ropes from the blow, Alias followed up with a short-armed clothesline, knocking Christ to the mat with a cheer from the crowd, and opening up a cut over Christ’s left eye… neither men where evidentially pulling any punches.

Alias followed up the clothesline with an elbow drop to Christ’s face, and then repeated the move for good measure. Picking Christ back up, Alias scooped him from the arm and dropped Christ down with a standing arm drag. As Christ got up, Alias smashed him in the stomach with a kick, before following by picking Christ up and dropping him hard with an incredibly stiff Brainbuster.

1…

2…

3…

4…

Christ was right back up onto his feet, he once again cracked his knuckles and smiled a wicked smile that had been yellowed by blood.

Alias came forward with blood running down his face, swinging a haymaker, but Christ ducked, and gave Alias a large elbow to the back. Alias stammered, as Christ followed in with a running knee into Alias’s back, sending the Pulp Hero to the ground. Christ hammered away with back stomping, before picking Alias back up, and dropping him down with a backdrop. Christ held on, picked Alias back up, and delivered a thunderous German suplex. Picking him right back up from the waist, Christ lifted Alias up, and threw the battered superstar into the turnbuckle stiffly. Alias bounced off, holding his side in pain, trying to get up from his right arm. In a cocky manner, Christ kicked Alias’s arm out as he fell back to the mat.

What was this match missing, thought Christ? Where the heaven are my fucking weapons! Steve Christ rolled out of the ring and threw a couple of chairs… one, two, three… four. Before sliding back into the ring a weapon now in reach at almost every possible turn. Christ brought Alias to his feet and grabbed a chair… before sizing Alias up for a shot, Christ had to send a little message to ACW.

Christ slapped Alias with the back of his hand.

Alias? Alias grabbed Steve Christ’s black hair and drilled him, multiple times, with repeated head butts to the utterly shocked Anti-Christ’s nose. Christ stumbled backwards, blood bubbling from his nostrils like a fountain of red ink. He attempted to steady himself on the ropes to little avail.

Upon the sight of blood of even more blood, the crowd cheered harder.

Alias sprinted towards his adversary and leapt forwards, spiking the bloodied warrior in his face with a solid right hand and further punishing him with three jarring high knees to the chest. Christ slumped down to one knee, his hand rested against the ground in a fist, he tried to shake away the cob webs, but Alias had other things in mind.

He took a step back before rushing forward with a hard and high kick to the nose of Christ, knocking him backward, as his head thudded back onto the canvas mat. Another explosion of cheers, as a pool of crimson began to seep into the mat around Christ’s face.

Christ dragged himself, excruciatingly up to his feet. His nose was streaming with crimson by this point, most probably broken. Christ didn't really care, you had to fight through pain all the fuckin time. But for fuck’s sake, how many times has he had his nose broken now? He was fuckin pissed off.

Alias rushed into his bloodied challenger looking to scoop him up. Steve Christ wouldn’t have any of it though as he kicked Alias square in the balls… sending a man who had just picked up a head of steam… crashing right back down to earth. Speaking of which…

Launched Into Hell!

One rigid Miracle Ecstasy Bomb or chokeslam driver, into the nearest chair, later… denting it all to shit in the process and Steve Christ managed to put what could possibly be the exclamation mark on the match. Could an Asylum superstar become a champion in the ACW? Not if the ‘Steve of Fight’ had anything to say about it… he wasn’t paid to be cursed with that shit. He grabbed Alias by the face and sent several hard punches into the savior of ACW’s already bloody face.

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

Week in and week out Alias had been in the ring each show for the last several months… when he really needed something more… he had finally reached the breaking point.

Still against all odds… as Steve Christ stood to the side, knowing that he had done his job already, Alias got to his feet. It seemed that his infamous iron was now the only thing holding him together. He was once a fighter… but after this experience he realized he might have gotten a bit to rusty, his world swirling into vertigo as the seconds ticked by.

"Are you OK? How many fingers am I holding up?" asked the ref, as he held up three fingers. Alias coughed, spraying a small amount of blood on the ref's shirt, and tried to reply. The word wouldn't come out, but he didn't need to say it in the end, as Christ charged Alias, knocking him to the mat with a hard shoulder to shoulder collision.

Another shot by Christ, this time a solid crack into the back of Alias’s head with his right hand, sending Alias falling face first to the canvas, Christ didn’t waste any time, sitting down directly on Alias’s back like a crocodile wrangler covering the beasts eyes so to confuse it, Christ however didn’t take such delicate procedures, grabbing Alias by the ear, and using it to thrust his face solidly down into the mat.

Again,

And again…

… and again.

Christ got to his feet and stepped back, Alias’s face now completely red with blood he somehow, someway… pushed himself up, reminiscent to a scene in Fight Club, blood poured from his face in an explosive stream on the canvas, his face so bloody that it’d left an actual impression on the canvas… now that was a souvenir.

Christ once again went to charge forward only to stop himself as Alias tapped his wrist… a smile creeping across his face ever so slightly.

DING. DING. DING.

Who needed to win, when all that was necessary was survival. ‘The Original Pulp Hero’ slumped into the ropes and rubbed the blood from his eyes as best he could. Good god how many stitches would it take to close up his face before the PPV. He jerked his head to the side as Christ patted him on the back for a second before rolling out of the ring and walking to the back. Time limit draw? Christ couldn’t care either way.

Alias raised the golden belt in the air.

The fans cheered in jubilance… one month of hell… one month after saving his company he was not only still alive, but the Original Pulp Hero had thrived. He stood without the assistance of the ropes now… though he probably still atleast had a concussion. Still he noticed the sudden scratching change over from his theme… “Not Over”… too… silence.

He looked up at the video screen and looked at the word from his past that would mean dark days ahead… whether he knew it in this bruised and battered state or not.

SUPERSTAR

Winner: DRAW

Di Gradi Special Coming Right Up!

You know in some wrestling feds the backstage spamming of the camera usually causes cheers for the reason that a main wrestler is arriving at the arena. ACW is kind of different to that. We film a pizza boy. 

Yea the crowd were pretty pumped to see a scrawny thin, pale skinned man clutching a large pizza box while walking down the hallways. He looking for something I think but he seems pre occupied, stopping in the corridor. 

A large silhouette of a distinctive figure bellows down on the wall beside him. He drops the pizza box instantly.

Dante Inferno Vs A*Dubbs

  

There was a small pop as Dante Inferno made his way to the ring in the class "I don't care" attitude that seemed to always be in Inferno's step. Dante paced around the ring, waiting for his opponent who had demanded this match because of Dante's involvement with Geo Vacton two weeks ago where Dante helped Geo get his match signed for Pain or Pleasure.

"It's my party" by Fabulous. A*Dubbs came walking out into the arena with his head bobbing from side to side, but his eyes never leaving focus on Inferno. He by now had developed something of a hatred for Inferno. He put himself into Dubbs' business, and tried to ruin him. Sure, Dubbs started it by attacking Inferno in his match with Vacton, but Inferno didn't need to take it outside the ring the way he did..... 

Ok, it was logic that only made sense to Dubbs and any fans he might have.

A*Dubbs slid into the ring and stared Inferno down. The bell rang, and Inferno didn't waste any time in jumping onto Dubbs with his extremely dangerous right hands. Inferno sent Dubbs into the ropes and nearly busted his lip open with a driving elbow to the chin attempt. Fortunately for Dubbs, he was if not the, then one of the quickest men in the ACW. 

Recovering from the offensive onslaught Dante had attempted to achieve, Dubbs snapped right back into it with a snap Dropkick, one that the human eye could only see coming through slow re-cap. 

The impact hit Dante so hard he bounced back up from the ground, before the number one nucka shoved Inferno away with a kick to the gut, following with a snap DDT. “WHO THA FUCK YOU THINK YOU IS NUCKA?!” Allen cried, as Inferno flipped over onto his back after the move, and quickly locked an non-suspecting A*Dubbs up in a grapple, from which Dante pulled him over his head and with a hard thrust, sent Dubbs to the mat, courtesy of a t-bone suplex. 

The crowd cheered mercilessly for the once hated superstar, as he looked at the fans as if they were crazy. 

Noticing he had focused his attention from A*Dubbs, Dante quickly shifted his head back into gear, lifting Dubbs up in a gorilla press slam position, before tossing him over the ropes. Dubbs body looked at if he was going to land on the outside for a rude awakening, but desperately Allen’s hands reached for the top rope, shifting his momentum from the outside to the outside of the hard but more comfortable mat. 

The impact killed none the less. 

As the pain began to end it’s wrath on A*Dubbs, Allen was quick to begin slapping the mat in frustration as the referee told him to get back into the inside of the ring. 

Once Allen decided the time had called for action, Dubbs jumped over the top rope exhibiting his acrobatic skills for everyone to see, before pacing around the ring. 

Like it was instinct, Inferno watched every move he made with great intent on finding an opening. Wanting to show just how much more strength Allen had over Dante, he offered Inferno an honest. 

The sentence could have been truth too, if honest hadn’t of been added to the equation. As Dante gave in to the hold, a vicious kick was felt in his right leg, followed by one in his left. The martial arts of Al Willis went on to show Dante what he was up against, and more importantly, just what he wasn’t ready for. Falling to his knees Allen saw the opening quickly, before turning to the crowd for a cheap taunt. 

The fans did not knew what was coming, but one thing was for sure, they knew it would hurt. 

“OPEN UP BIOTCH!” With a thrusts of his left leg, Allen outstretched the leg ligaments in his body, connecting his left boot with Dante Inferno’s upper lip. A crushing sound was heard, and many fans speculated over what had just been hit, whether it was Dante’s nose breaking, or his teeth coming out.

Picking Dante up, Allen did not think it was over...that was until he saw Dante’s bloodied face. Looking at it, not a smile reached Allen’s face, and for once fans and ACW Courage watchers everywhere could ponder whether or not Allen did have remorse for another human being. This hypothesis though, was answered quickly, as Allen grabbed Dante’s head in a front face lock position, before dropping Dante like he was nothing, using one of the most deadly weapons Allen had in his arsenal. Tha Electrifier, a Diamond Cutter that put any chances Dante had of the result ending in his favor, to rest. 

Pimp Juice could be smelled through the air by the crowd of 20,000 in the arena, but to their astonishment, it was not what Allen had up his sleeve next. As a sick smirk came to Allen’s face, he knew what time it was. Dante Inferno thought he couldn’t be touched, and it was time to show him just who he couldn’t touch himself. 

Al Willis dropped to the outside of the ring. While screaming at the crowd, “YOU CAN’T TOUCH THIS MAFUCKAS, I’M THA KING!” And raising his arm high in the air despite humongous heat, A*Dubbs reached under the ring, and to the astonishment of the crowd, pulled out a ladder!

"Put that down!" The referee yelled toward Dubbs as he slid into the ring with the ladder in toe. Dubbs giggled and turned towards the referee, but Inferno caught him off guard and drop kicked Dubbs. 

The fans went crazy, for they began to think their hero of the night was out for good. Inferno scooped Dubbs up from under the ladder and proceeded with a face buster. Dante had found the opening he needed, and by all means he would use it. 

Bloodied to a point where you could not see much under the crimson red, Dante figured he would put the inanimate object to use. 

Climbing the 15-foot ladder, Dante reached the top, and with outstretched arms, he hinted towards the fan what move he had in mind. Ala Randy Savage, Dante Inferno felt he was destined to hit a Flying Elbow Drop. 

That was, until he found the mat without A*Dubbs’ body being on top of it. Favoring his arm Dante rolled around on the mat shouting random words a mother would cringe at. As for Allen, he was up and about. 

A*Dubbs straightened the ladder out, before dropping it over Dante’s body. Going up top, thirsty fans everywhere were about to get their thirst quencher, and Dubbs was going to be their supplier. With a jump from the top rope, Allen wasted no time in exerting pain and punishment to himself, but three times as much to Dante Inferno. 
Pimp Juice had just landed. 

Favoring his back, Allen quickly made the cover. 

1…..

2…


3..

NO!!!!!

The unbelievable had happened. Usually, Allen wanted the win, he wanted nothing better but to receive what was his, that was until…Dante Inferno interfered. 

Now, it was on. 

Pain Or Pleasure was certainly coming up, and while Allen did not want to exert too much physical time on Dante Inferno, he was definitely going to make sure Inferno would not be bothering him any time soon. 

Grabbing the ladder, Allen threw it into his opponents body over, and over, and over again, repeating this act 3 to 4 times before the ref grabbed the ladder, warning Allen that the next shot would result in a DQ. 

"Hands off, cracker!" Dubbs was frustrated. He shook his head and tossed Inferno into the ropes where he knocked him down with a swan dive. A*Dubbs picked Inferno up and dragged him to the corner of the ring where he set him up on the turnbuckles. Dubbs tossed in a few weak punches, and then hit what he was really looking for, a super-plex. 

The crowd booed hysterically as Dubbs picked up the ladder again, and waited for Inferno to stand up, but the referee was on Dubbs attempting to pull the ladder away from him. Dubbs shuck him off and hit him with the ladder! The referee fell to the mat, and Dubbs snapped as Inferno stood up. WHAM!!! He plowed Dante over once more with the ladder, picking it up again and stomping away on Inferno. Dante tried to fight back and crawl away, but it was no use. 

Dubbs picked Inferno up and tossed him into the ladder. As Dante's head bounced off the cold steel, Dubbs drop kicked Inferno making him again slam into the ladder. A*Dubbs laughed as he again picked up the ladder and struck Inferno across the back. Dante crawled toward the ropes, determined to fight back, but Dubbs didn't let up at all. As several officials surrounded the ring, medical teams were being alerted. The referee struggled to stand up and exit the ring, where he ordered the match a DQ...

Winner: Dante Inferno (DQ)

After Match Aftermath

Backstage, Geo Vacton watched the attack on a television screen. There was nothing he could do as he smacked the screen and put his fist into his hand. Although he couldn't do anything, he took off assuringly towards the ring.

Dubbs scooped up the ladder once more and cracked Inferno's head open. By now blood was rushing down his face, covering the blood already covering Dante’s face from prior attacks. The onslaught was brutal. 

Officials were climbing onto the ring aprons trying to talk Dubbs away from Inferno, but Dubbs refused. He turned around and swung the ladder at them, scaring them off the ring. A*Dubbs laughed hardily as he paced around the ring with the ladder in his hands.

"Bes’ step back before you get regulated, NUCKAS!!!"

Suddenly, a roar was heard from the crowd. Geo Vacton was running down to the ring! Dubbs braced himself, but Geo broke down a few feet away from Dubbs. Geo couldn't touch Allen’s dark brown skin, and if he did, it would be the last thing he did as champion.

"Leave 'im alone, Dubbs. He ain't done anything, you know that..." Geo tried to reason with Dubbs.

Allen thought for a moment, and sighed. "You know Geo, you’re right. Dante isn’t the problem right now." Dubbs began to turn around and exit the ring, but with a sudden change of heart, violence reared its ugly head once more.

WHAM~!!!!!

Dubbs nailed Geo with the ladder. The crowd was in complete shock! The match contract for Pain or Pleasure was definitely broken in half!!!!!

Dubbs hammered the ladder into Geo's chest, probably causing severe injury to his ribs. Vacton curled up into a ball, trying to defend himself from the ladder shots. Dubbs laughed, dropped the ladder and paced across the ring where he picked up a microphone.

"What up chotches!" Dubbs talked through huffs and puffs, as he caught his breath from the attack. "Look at these mafuckas on tha ground! Ha, ha... Two nuckas in one night... Can't y'all see? I'm that mafuckin’ nucka around here!!! I knew you would come out here, you dumbass white boy, if I laid it down on Inferno...and look at that, I did! He couldn’t hang no ways Geo, he wasn’t witty enough, he didn’t know the game. And I knew you would know about the situation. 

You, I and every other mafucka out there knew, you couldn't do a DAMNNNN thing about it.... And I bet you thought I couldn't touch you, right? Well, would ya look at that!" Dubbs paced around the ring. “I bet you’re thinking right now Vacton, why am I on the ground from just being knocked THA FUCK OUT?!” “Well nucka, you really need to catch up on your reading skills, cuz no where in that contract did it say that I couldn’t hit yo ass!”

The crowd exploded with boos, as they knew the biggest travesty to date since Ethan Winters was murdered had just been committed. 

"Hahahaha, I can hit you... But if you dare touch me 'til next Sunday... You ain't gonna have to wrestle, cos that belt'll be mine! Oh, and about that match for Sunday... We still need a match stipulation don't we? Well, I already got it planned and signed!”
The fans hushed, as they were eager to hear what this long awaited match stipulation would be, for one of the most anticipated matches in the ACW was to take place a week from today. 

“I figure, ya’ll wanksta’s out there in the seats, and obviously you two in this ring have already got a picture of what I have to offer without using a weapon….obviously you just got a taste a few seconds ago…” The fans boo tremendously at the lie just commented on, as Allen continued, “So I’m bout to show you what I can do when my specialty is added into the mix, Geo, you and me, we bout to be climbing to heaven for that strap, cuz PoP Vacton vs. Dubbs is bout to be a ladder match muthafuckas!” 

The crowd exploded!!!

Pointing to Geo Allen went on, “See you there lil man, and as for you…” 

Picking up the ladder Allen trusted it to the throat of Dante Inferno, adding insult to a definite injury. 

“Don’t EVER, stick your head in my business, you hear me sucka? NEVER AGAIN!” 

"It's my party" again played through the arena as Dubbs exited the ring after flipping Vacton off. Medical teams were in place to check on Inferno and Vacton. Both of them were cut open, and it was clear that they would both get their revenge... For Geo, that would come next Sunday when he fights Dubbs in what looks to be a definite classic, ‘ladder match’ to say the least. 

By Himself.

I’LL HAVE YOU, I’LL HAVE YOU
WISHING FOR…
I’LL HAVE YOU, I’LL HAVE YOU
WISHING FOR…
I’LL HAVE YOU, I’LL HAVE YOU
WISHING FOR…
I’LL HAVE YOU, I’LL HAVE YOU
WISHING FOR…

A suddenly guitar riff, and the orange and purple spotlights started to fly around the arena… and the next set of lines signaled the entrance of Jason Kain…

A QUICK DEATH!
A QUICK DEATH!!
A QUICK DEATH!!!
A QUICK DEEEEAAAAATH!!!!

Jason Kain ran to the ring, wearing the first of noticeable ACW® brand apparel, a black chested and purple short sleeved hoodie, with “Nine words: You think you have a chance?!?” written on the front in orange… and “DIDN’T THINK SO!!!” Written in huge orange letters on the back. Hopping up to the apron, and turning his back toward the ring, he lifted his left hand to the sky in his symbol. A thumb and pinky out, pumping it to the air as the crowd cheered wildly. He then turned and climbed into the ring, calling for a mic…

“NOW SUCK ON THIS!!!”

The crowd immediately chanted along with the superstar’s famous opening line. And it was visible that Kain was worked up over something. He intensified his grip on the microphone and looked out to the crowd.

“Everyday before the show a fellow friend of yours…” The hesitation here NOT a mistake. “AND mine. Decides it’s his place to ‘put us in our place’ or so to speak.”

He pauses and paces the ring. The anger in him almost swelling out onto the mat. Finally the pacing stopped and he yanked the mic back to his mouth.

“But today, after his little speech, I had an epiphany… a revelation, if you will… about what was needed to shove him back to his own size, since the room wasn’t big enough for the fed and HIS HEAD! Today, I was going to deck him one… screw the cheers of the crowd, screw the rules of the fed… just beat the living daylights out of him, with no regard for the rules of this federation. But then I remembered something… his claiming of being God can only mean one thing. He can beat me.”

The crowd suddenly got confused and started booing.

“I know what you’re thinking… Kain’s gone insane. Which maybe I have… but you see, he’s kinda proven his point. I mean, although he had A*Dubbs pulling off all the maneuvers, AND he cheated his ass off… He still pinned me. And for that matter, I’m facing him again tonight… but not on my own. I STILL won’t be able to prove that I, too, can defeat HIM…” Kain looked around as the crowd voiced their opinion. “So he’s still on the up and up about him being the ring God. He thinks he’s undefeatable.”

The boos made Kain smirk.

“Oh, no… don’t get all bitchy just yet folks.” Kain smiled. “I agree with him. He can beat me… but only if he truly WAS God. And he’s yet to prove it. Sure, he’s had his fair share of victories… and sure, he’s held the ACW World Title on not just one, but two occasions. But as I’ve said, I’ve come to a revelation… If he’s held the title on two occasions, and he’s not the champ right now… that must also mean that he’s LOST the championship on two occasions. So I came up with an idea that might seem appalling to the people who back Osyrus… but SilverHAWK and the guys backstage seemed to think was cool… which is why they’ve already signed it.”

The crowd rumbled in murmur, wondering what Kain was talking about.

“I’ve gone out of my way to book us a match, Osyrus. Since you obviously can BEAT me… you shouldn’t have a worry in the world.” He smiled. “But not only is it a match… it’s a best of three falls. And not only is it a best of three falls, but each fall will have a different stipulation. And it’ll be set up for where we EACH have been known to call home. The first match will be a straight out wrestling match, technical, DQ’s and Countouts apply, something we both seem to be masters of… the second match will be held in the parking lot later on in the card. An all-out street brawl. Once again, something we’ve been known to excel at. But the third, if it can even come down to it… well, this will definitely prove ONE of our points, an undeniable finish… 

…A finish that can only be determined by the better man…” 

…A LAST… MAN… STANDING… match.”

The crowd roared at the sound of the possibility that the match could go that far.

“But let’s just hope, Osy… for your safety… that it doesn’t get that far. Because I know… We BOTH know… what we are capable of doing to win that match. But just remember, Osyrus… no matter WHAT your damn name means… The Epitome of Innovation does not… WILL NOT... stand back and watch you run your mouth. It’s between you and me, now, BITCH! When the chips are down, and the rest of the table has folded, you know who’ll call your bluff! You know that when you think you have gotten the whole federation wrapped around your little finger there will always be one man standing… with the ever present smirk… ready to take your order with a question consisting of nine simple words…”

The crowd’s roar grew to a deafening decibel…

“YOU THINK YOU HAVE A CHANCE!?!?”

The pause was electrifying as the crowd waited for the exact moment…

“DIDN’T THINK SO!!!!”

As the mic slammed to the mat, the crowd exploded and “Quick Death” by the Transplants blew the roof off the arena. Kain started up the ramp, stopped at the entryway with his back turned and his head down… long enough to throw his left hand to the sky, thumb and pinky out… then walk through the curtain with the crowd destroying the arena with only their voice.

DEFCON 1

He cracked his neck, and began to jog on the spot. Couldn't risk his calf muscles tightening up at the wrong moment. Quinton May's biggest moment was here, as he was set to lock horns with a man he'd been feuding with for the past several weeks. And with each day, the hatred grew. The animosity exploded to new heights as the weeks flew by, and tonight, it seemed Quincy was hell-bent on ending it once and for all.

Within the confines of a Steel Cage. A structure that would house extreme violence.

But as Quinton May raised his arms in the air, trying to stretch them as much as he could, the quest of God kept making its point known in his mind. Quincy had yet to prove that he could really wrestle. He was almost there, but not quite. This upcoming encounter with the X-Convict wasn't going to achieve that goal, either. It was all about mindless revenge. Something that could backfire on him, May felt.

But he simply had to do this. After all that 108192 had done to him, to El Janitors... this was ground zero.

This was DEFCON 1. And guess what? The Army wasn't going to sit idly by.

No.

Not a chance in hell of that ever happening, as long as Quinton Lindsey May is in charge and breathing normally.

STEEL CAGE MATCH
Quinton May Vs 108192

  

Courage returned from the commercials, and a epic war was set to be waged. The previous meeting between the two ended in Quinton's favour. Of course, 108192's weird behaviour throughout that match cost him big time. Now, he has no picture to be distracted with.

Now, 108192 was out for blood. He had tasted it, but the kill had yet to be made…

Quinton May was already in the ring, as his theme song died down. His eyes were burning with determination, as he looked up to the rafters, at the Steel Cage hanging there ominously. It would be the stage for this next and possibly final battle in the Quincy/108192 feud.

Of course, that was unless 108192 had different ideas. And it seemed he did, for "Smoke Two Joints" started to blare over the speakers again.

Immediately, 108192 strolled out, with a sledgehammer attached to the belt he was wearing. An evil grin was plastered on his face, as he walked down the ramp. The fact that he was using Quinton's theme song was making the Dictator Of QA incensed.

108192 didn't care. He stopped at the bottom of the ramp and laughed.

Then, he charged… and slid into the ring.

He swung the hammer, but Quincy ducked. The referee motioned to maintenance to lower the cage as soon as possible, as the battle raged on in the ring. Quinton turned and laid a boot to 108192's stomach, attempting to snatch the hammer away from him… but 108192 simply headbutted his opponent and jabbed the hammer's end into his stomach. As Quinton kneeled over, 108192 dropped the hammer and spun one hundred and eighty degrees, bringing his foot across Quinton's face in a sickeningly hard High Kick.

Quinton staggered back as 108192 attempted to pick his Hammer back up… but the referee refused to allow 108192 to do so. The cage was slowly being lowered down, over the ringposts…

And 108192 heinously grabbed the referee by the hair and shirt, and jammed his head between the top turnbuckle and the cage! The cage became stuck, hovering halfway down over the ring, but unable to move any further.

108192 picked his Hammer back up, but by the time that he turned around… it was too late for him to use it, as Quinton charged into 108192 and… SPEAR!

108192 hit the mat with colossal impact, bouncing upwards on the point of his neck and rolling back onto his face. Quinton got up and hurried over to the referee, yanking his head away from the cage. The Steel Bars quickly clattered onto the apron, as the referee hit the mat… clutching his neck and rolling around in agony.

Quinton turned back to 108192, who was just making his way back onto his feet, and swung a leg outwards in what could have been a toe kick… but wasn't, as 108192 caught the foot and spun Quinton around, hooking his head back into a Dragon Sleeper. Quinton was quick to reverse, bringing 108192 up over his shoulder in a powerslam position… but 108192 had a plan. As Quinton ran forwards to execute the move, 108192 slid out of Quinton's grip and…

*CRASH*

Pushed him into the cage wall. As Quinton turned, groggily looking for an escape route from 108192… the X-Convict drilled May back down, by lifting his legs up off the mat and slamming him back down with a roll-through spinebuster. Then, 108192 picked the Hammer back up. Hooked it on his belt. And looked at the cage wall…

Before spitting at the Dictator of QA.

The fans booed, as 108192 began to scale up the side of the cage. He got to about halfway, when the fans were saved from having to see him win… as Quinton came from behind and grabbed at 108192's shirt. With an almighty heave, Quincy yanked 108192 from the railings and thundered him into the mat with a high-angle, maiming variation of the powerbomb.

Quinton almost went for the cover, but then realized that he had to climb out of the cage to score the win, and began to clamber up the walls. 108192 shook off the massive blow to his back and began to get to his feet… but unfortunately for him, Quinton was already on the top of the cage by that point.

108192 took a step back, hopped, jumped, and FLUNG himself onto the cage, managing to land halfway up the cage. From there, he scampered up and managed to catch up with Quinton… who replied by kicking 108192 in the face. Still, the bald-headed convict remained clinging onto the mesh and bars.
Quinton, in an attempt to vanquish his foe, swung a boot at 108192 once more, but 108192 once again caught it. And this time… all he needed to do, was pull.

*CRACK*

Quinton was crotched across the top of the cage, landing groin-first on nothing but steel. 108192 then, finally, mounted the top of the cage alongside his enemy… and tried to keep his balance as…

*THWACK*

A buzzsaw kick, ON TOP OF THE CAGE. It required a lot of guts, but the fans booed nonetheless.

The X-Convict responded by simply removing his hammer from his belt. He grasped the handle with both hands, and swung the stone end into Quinton's head. Quincy Mama very nearly fell, but he clung for dear life to remain hanging onto the cage. Quinton slumped forwards, effectively lying down on top of the cage, as blood seeped from a fresh wound on his forehead and trickled down the enclosure.

108192 assumed a position just above Quinton, standing over his head… and raised his sledgehammer.

*CRUNCH*

He was right. 108192 hammered the stone head of his weapon down onto Quinton's skull, smashing it between the cage and the hammer itself. The fans gasped, and then exploded with boos. They began hurling various items of trash at 108192, but 108192 simply sneered. Following which, he dumped his hammer back into the ring, and began to climb down the other side of the cage… it seemed that all was lost.

But it wasn't quite, as Quinton reached down and grabbed 108192 by his hair. 108192 tried to waft away Quinton's powerful hand, but it failed miserably… as 108192 was forced to climb back to the top alongside his opponent. 108192 shot a punch out at Quinton's face, but it was promptly caught… Quincy locked his arm around 108192's head, and signalled to the fans.

108192 struggled and squirmed, but didn't quite make it out of the hold. As Quinton soared off the cage, switching in mid-air…

Double-Arm DDT.

Off the cage.

The fans jumped to their feet and roared out cheers frenziedly… as Quinton slammed 108192's face off the mat with his finishing maneuver. But Quinton, was almost TWICE as injured by the move as 108192. Why?

His head landed square, on 108192's hammer.

Both men were seemingly knocked out. There looked to be no hope of a finish for the bout, as 108192 AND Quinton were unconscious…
Then, the fans began to boo. As 108192, slowly, got to his feet.

He picked up his hammer, and raised it over Quinton's head…

*SMACK*

But connected with nothing but the mat, as Quinton SAT UP before the blow. The fans began cheering again, desperately trying to egg on the man with the very screwed up past. Quinton tried to grapple the hammer away from 108192, but 108192 was resilient. He held onto his weapon of choice desperately, as it seemed to be the only lifeline that he had in this match. Quinton was felled with a kick to the leg from 108192, and 108192 raised his hammer…

Leaving himself open for a wicked backdrop. 108192 scrambled to his feet, but Quinton nailed him straight back down again with a lariat. With no further ado, Quinton began to climb the cage.

He was out of here, and it couldn't have come any sooner for him.

*SMACK*

No he wasn't, as 108192, having recovered extremely quickly… slammed his hammer into the centre of Quinton's fragile spine. Quinton dropped from the cage, and 108192 dropped his hammer… dropping the weight in order to gradually make his way up the cage, himself.

The fans' boos grew louder and louder as The X-Convict gradually neared the top of the cage. Then, swinging his leg over the top… 108192 looked like he was on the winning side. Until, of course, he simply balanced himself at the top of the cage and peered down at the battered body of Quinton May.

*CRASH*

Then, he jumped off with an elbow-drop.

"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"

It wasn't over yet, however. Nope, not by a long shot. See, 108192 didn't want to win the match. That was evident when he limped back up and laughed at the twitching body of Quincy Mama, before grabbing hold of his precious sledgehammer.

*CRACK*
*CRACK*
*CRACK*
*CRACK*

Four shots of the sledgehammer to the sternum of Quinton. The Dictator was coughing up blood now, and the referee, fueled by the overwhelming jeers that rained down on the cage, started to unlock the cage door and signaled for paramedics to come down.

108192 simply laughed, with a crazed look in his eyes, and with the door opened, walked out. Surprisingly calm, with the sledgehammer still in his hand.
Quincy wanted to finish the war tonight. It seemed he was finished, and 108192 was throwing down the challenge for an end to it all… whenever the Dictator could handle it.

At the state May was in right now? Not a chance in Hell that'd be anytime soon.

This, folks, is an anti-climatic finish.

Winner: No Contest (referee called off match)

Knock, Knock – Who’s there?

The door opened, as Ron Williams came into view. At first he was oblivious to the horrible truth as he opened his wallet and placed the cash on top of the pizza. He then pulled at the pizza, curious as to why the delivery guy was yet to say anything. He tugged a little harder, before the “delivery guy” lifted the box high into the air and slammed it against the skull of Ron Williams. 

Hillary Small had struck again. But Ron was not as hurt as Hillary had meant him to be…and he grabbed the box and tossed it like a Frisbee at her chest. She collapsed to the ground breathing intensely as Ron stood over her. He grabbed her by her hair and tossed her into his locker. Small hit the locker with a savage bang before lying in distress in the corner. Ron slammed shut the door of his locker and stared at The Treacherous Troll, who now had a distraught frown on her face. Ron tossed a steel chair across the room and into the wall on which she lay.

“And so we meet again. Only this time, the tables have turned. Finally….face to face. And, Ms Small, I must say – I am not impressed. Your combat skills leave much to be desired. And your choice of weaponry? Pathetic” Ron said, picking up the pizza box and checking that the contents were still satisfactory quality. 

He then walked over to the door of his locker room, and bolted it to stop Hillary from escaping. He dug into his pocket and took out some strawberry laces…although – somewhat mysteriously – many are black and covered in remnants of tissue paper. “So…um….Hillary – how’s the family?” he said, obviously aware of the fact that Hillary was the last of her kind. 

“Shut your greasy mouth Williams – otherwise I’ll make sure we’re in the same boat family wise.” Small said in emphatic tone, unaware of the physical and verbal beating Ron was just bursting to unleash. St. George hoisted the strawberry lace like an anchor before planting it on the cheek of Hillary…who let out a shriek of unpredicted pain. “You’re going to regret that” she mumbled as her voice became raspy with the pain of the whipping. Ron then lurched forward and wrapped the lace around her throat, tightening his grip as the seconds passed by. 

“I hate you and you hate me. So how about we settle this ‘dispute’ once and for all. You Vs Me, one week from now…live on pay-per-view!” Ron shrieked as his voice and appearance resembled one of a maniac. He failed to release the hold on Hillary, who went blue as she struggled for oxygen. She capitalised on the mentality and positioning of Williams, who was leaning over, by raising her foot and placing it in the groin area. This caused Ron to topple to the ground – much like she had done minutes ago. Hillary got to her feet and trampled on the fallen body of her rival who began cursing in typical Ron Williams style.

“Yeah, I’ll take you on next week Ron. Then…and only then – will you see what I am truly capable of” she wailed, unlocking the bolted door and exiting his locker. 

And so, the date...time and location had been set.

All that was needed now was a result.

Sleeping Giant

As the 5 ACW staff members dropped him in his locker room, Dante Inferno was sprawled over the wall as they rested him on one of the benches which was empty of clutter. The medic peered into Dante's eye's with a small torch as he checked for a response from the monster, but it was clear that he was concussed.

Inferno rubbed the back of his neck as the EMT's arrived, but they were pushed off for a few moments by the staff members as they seen Inferno making an attempt to speak.

"Tell them not to come any nearer..."

The EMT's looked in as blood bathed the Atlanta resident, but upon his request, they left him in peace as the ACW staffers tried to make sure he was all right.

"Dante...you know what happened?"

"Yeah..." Inferno was less than convincing as his eye's glared over as his head rested against the wall, blood trickling down the cracks of the paintwork.

"So what happened then Inferno?"

"Dubbs...just signed his death warrant."

The staffers looked on as Inferno began to chuckle in his resting spot, before he lay on his side on the bench...as he began to sleep.

All The Things She Said

All the things she said
All the things she said
Runnin through my head
Runnin through my head
All the things she said
All the things she said
This is not enough

Geo Vacton sat in his locker room with an ice pack pressed against his forehead. He was by now used to being attacked and so treated himself. He gave his forehead one final press and then tossed the ice pack to the floor. He shuck his head violently as he stared in the mirror at his latest lump and bruise. He clenched his fists and walked steadily across the room.

"One more week," He offered to himself. He had been screwed; everyone knew it. But did he complain? Nah. He knew he would get his revenge, and he knew it would be the sweetest of his life. He also knew that this brought the end of Winters rule in ACW. After this, it was all in the hands of the new staff. Still, Vacton wondered if he could wait until PoP to release his anger. "One...more...week." He again stated through clenched teeth as he prepared to exit his room and the arena.

Something Is Bloody Awry

Vincent Pembridge walked towards the parking lot, his hands deep inside the pockets of his jeans, and with a sly grin on his face. The night's plans had yet again unfolded as he had planned it. Watching Quinton getting beaten up by 108192 also appealed to him greatly, seeing how the Scorpion's Army was officially going to war with QA. It was only natural for Pembridge to feel a sense of gratification.

Especially since he'd just witnessed another beatdown of 006.392 and the Janitors were also on the hunt.

Approaching his getaway vehicle, The British Degenerate smiled as his Army trapped 006.392 in the toilet just about ten minutes ago, and beat the living hell out of him, before Pembridge himself got into the act, once again decimating the kid. Who, by then, had reached his breaking point... and foolishly challenged the former UFF legend to a match at the PoP pay-per-view.

Yep. Vincent Pembridge Vs. 006.392 at Pain-or-Pleasure.

The Scorpion Of Manchester accepted the challenge, before completely obliterating the youngster by smashing his head against the sink. That was only the prelude to yet another gang bashing, as Vincent decided to call it a night and retire back to his hotel room. He was eager to find out what was going on over in thReat-land. And coincidentally enough, the two organisations were holding their flagship shows in the same city.

He opened the door to his car and got in, his right hand immediately clutching the steering wheel. However, he was interrupted by the sound of his cellphone ringing. Actually, it beeped, indicating that Vincent had received a text message. And as he took out his phone and read the message... a look of confusion came across his face.

That was quickly replaced by a mask of horror... then anger.

"The cunts are taking this too far!"

Unknown to all... El Janitors had escaped the clutches of the British Army. And headed over to the Alamodome. The arena that was, right at the very moment, housing the final minutes of the thReat show. Of course, having procured files on Vincent Pembridge, it was safe to assume that El Janitors had this planned all along, in some weird sense... and was hitting the Brit where it hurt the most.

His brilliant masterplan in thReat, the once-again hybrid federation.

Not good. Not good at all, for The Scorpion Of Manchester.

Battle Before The War

As the fans in the arena awaited the scheduled Main Event, ICU and Jason Kain Vs. Dane Rivers and Osyrus, there attention was brought to the big screen, as the images of chaos somewhere in the back struck them with shock.

Images of two battles where shown in the back, as ICU and Dane Rivers fought directly in front of the sound studio behind the big screen, as Jason Kain and Osyrus moved off to the side of the screen, the two duos were soon seen by the crowd, as they came out, battling with one another.

The audience erupted as Kain and Osyrus appeared to the right of the ramp, as they slugged it out with right hand after right hand before Osyrus took control of the situation with a knee to the stomach. ICU and Rivers were now on the ramp however, and Rivers definitely seemed to have the advantage as a huge right hand by the contender send ICU rolling down the ramp, as his tag partner's face met with the same ramp, as Osyrus threw him into it.

Rivers picked ICU up and threw him into the ring, but with no referee, it looked like this match was a non-started from the get-go. ICU was quickly up, but Rivers hit him in the gut with a knee and then pulled ICU up for a powerbomb, which he connected with.

As ICU lay on the mat holding his neck, Osyrus had control of Kain as he tossed him into the ring, as Rivers began to attack Jason Kain also. Osyrus barked orders at Rivers as the two time World Champion ducked under the ring and pulled out a fresh steel chair and slapped it with his hands before tossing it in the ring.

These former allies began to dismantle Jason Kain without the aid of the steel chair yet. Osyrus told Rivers to pull Kain to his feet and his pulled the chair up from the ground and then set himself. Rivers had a firm grasp of Kain as he watched Osyrus jab the steel chair into Jason Kain's ribs...

...not once...

...not twice...

...but three times.

That was until Osyrus hoisted the chair up behind his head as he looked to drive the steel chair through Kain's head, but Rivers' face told it all as he watched ICU grab the chair from behind Osyrus as he squared him in the forehead with it, cleaning the former champions proverbial clock.

BUT

Rivers was soon on his case, as a kick in the stomach and a snatch of the steel chair soon put him back in the best position. He slammed the chair over ICU's back as the ACW Champion dropped to his hands and knees, before Rivers turned around and hammered Jason Kain with the chair also.

Rivers trusted the chair in the air as the fans booed back at him, before their glances were placed back to ICU, who was now up, in an act of defiance to Rivers, and showing his true grit as a Champion. Blood poured from a wound of his forehead as Rivers drove the steel chair down upon him once again, but ICU had acted, and had made his intention clear, even though it seemed Rivers now had the upper hand.

Dane Rivers now stood over the Champion, as he circled his mid drift, as an imaginary belt was strapped around his waist, he peered down at the Champion and hurled abuse at him, before Osyrus finally made his way back up, as his felt his head for knots.

Both Dane Rivers and Osyrus had won tonight's battle, but as they say, the war was not over. As Pain or Pleasure came closer and closer, it now looked like these four men were looking for supremacy in ACW, and their battles this Sunday, could quite possibly be the best that any ACW viewer has ever seen.

And as a God, and a future World Champion stood in the ring over their enemies, they soaked in the atmosphere, as at this time on Sunday, they will be either tasting the sweet taste of victory...or the taste of their own blood.