Tug Of War? [2]

"Good match. I'm proud that you won."

Sincere words from Andi Kole, gulping down on some Gatorade Grape as his brother re-entered the locker-room, after gallivanting around backstage and basking in the adulation of several of the backstage officials, who were genuinely pleased with the in-ring performance of Joey Kole. The angry young man had come a long way since his ACW debut, and had transformed himself into an athlete worth keeping an eye out for. The short stint in the IOW didn't allow Joey to improve his game much, and the transudation to the ACW wasn't an easy one.

Hence, it was definitely good to see Joey Kole, who'd already impressed at the Glory PPV and in the match against Jade the week after, raising the bar and imposing himself in a way that few could replicate. With the sweat pouring off his body, Joey grabbed a towel from off the round table as he closed the door behind him and began to dab his body, to get rid of the sweat.

"Yeah, Morris never had a chance."

"Speaking of which. Why did you attack him & Howard last week?"

"Part of a deal I'd worked out with Drake Nefarian. The guy's quite scary now that he's gone and shaved his head clean. It's so shiny, I bet it serves as a back-up satellite for FOX in the event that they're down and SilverHAWK wants the show to be broadcasted ASAP."

Andi got up from his seat and threw the bottle of Gatorade Grape down on the floor, folding his arms. Had he heard correctly? His brother had worked out a deal with Drake Nefarian, one half of .vindication, the team that had made their lives a living hell and fought at the Glory PPV? Joey grinned at Andi's response and tossed the towel away, before grabbing his West Ham jersey and slipping it back onto his body.

The whole time, Andi trying to figure out why the hell would his brother be even conversing with Drake Nefarian? Nefarian & Liam had crossed paths with the Kole Brothers before. The defining moment being when Liam & Drake had wanted the Kole Brothers to take out El Janitors, in a war that was slowly brewing towards a highly climatic ending. Andi & Joey were down with the plan, but did not forget about how Liam had trounced Andi the week earlier in a singles match.

And hence, the famous double-cross that established The Kole Brothers as viable players in the company came about. What followed was fierce and swift revenge from .vindication, who resorted to actually kidnapping Andi & Joey.

"You do know that the lad's gone to Chelski, and no longer at West Ham?"

"I really don't give a crap. And really, that ain't the question you were going to ask. You're gonna ask why am I hanging out with Drake after what he and his buddy did to us. Well, I might pose you the same question. Why do you care about El Janitors so much? We've done shit to them in the past, and vice-versa."

Andi's head throbbed non-stop. This whole situation was threatening to spin out of control.

"They got us into the ACW," he replied curtly, drawing a snigger from Joey. "But then, they did nothing when Quinton said we didn't deserve to be in his precious little army."

The arguement had now reached a stalemate. The tension had now reached boiling point. The two brothers stared at each other, keeping close tabs on the other. Both men suddenly had memories of when their parents disowned them, and the long rebuilding process that was still ongoing. That was why Joey Kole had gone to visit the family and was missing the past week. To try and reconcile. That was a lost cause, and Joey then focused on catching up with little sister Melinda. The younger Kole brother was a wreck due to the terrible shape the family was in.

And under any circumstances, did not want his relationship with brother Andi to sour the same way. Andi was the only person in Joey's life at the moment, and the latter definitely did not want to destroy that.

"Look, I'll come clean. After Glory, I was destroyed. Our chance at greatness had freaking evaporated into thin air. We were so bloody close, but it wasn't enough. Then I thought of the way we behaved on the road to Glory, and realised that if we'd developed that pseudo-meanstreak earlier, we would be champions now.

The world isn't kind to those who are kind. Look at Liam & Nefarian. They're getting loads of money and are being touted as the meanest pair of bastards in this company, even though it was Liam who got pinned decisively. I'm sick of us WAITING to earn our dues, we deserve the glory now. And that's why I approached Nefarian. I told him that I wanted The British Army to watch our back while we -- you and me -- made a run at the titles.

Drake brought this up with Vincent Pembridge, who said that the BOTH of us would have to join his side if we wanted to ensure that we could make a run at the titles and not be threatened by the others who might fancy their chances at El Janitors. And let's face it, Morris & Howard have grown egos the size of Drake's fucking head. They think they are superstars now, because of those titles. And it makes me sick, because WE could and should be the champions.

Not them."

Joey Kole exhaled, and sat himself down on the couch, closing his eyes. Finally, the disclosure was out. The reason -- the true one, at least -- behind the change in attitude and persona was out in the open. Andi blinked, not quite believing what he'd just heard. Not because of how unbelievable it was, but simply because it had been some time since his brother actually shared information in that manner.

Pacing about the room, digesting the information, Andi realised this was a really tricky situation. There was so much history with Janitors & .vindication to consider, that it was mind numbing. And the fact that they'd only entered the company in May, the second half of which housed no ACW events at all, made the situation all the more confusing and complex.

"You know what?"

Joey opened his eyes and looked up at his brother.

"You're right. The meanstreak did us good."

Smiling, Joey rubbed his palms together. Would this be the moment that saw Andi embrace the idea?

"But... no, I'm not going to join TBA so that we can ascend to greatness. We can do it on our own, and by not playing dirty. SO, if you want, you can go ahead on your little renegade mission. Count me out. If you still want to be a Kole Brother, then you'll ditch the ciggies and the attitude."

Having said his piece, Andi Kole cleared his throat and cracked his knuckles, as he began to make a beeline for the door. He didn't want to stay in the room longer, if it meant looking his brother, enticed by corruption and the 'dark side', in the eye. However, Joey Kole wasn't about to let his brother have the last word.

There was one more thing he had to say.

"Pity, that you lost to Osyrus, despite having wasted so much time training.

And missing Melinda's birthday in the process."

Andi stopped at the door and turned to look at his brother, who simply snorted and closed his eyes again, letting his body slouch. The older Kole brother had a burning sensation in his throat, like he wanted to vomit, over the realisation that he'd missed his sister's birthday training, only to crash out of the KOA Tournament.

Turning point?

We'll see.

ACW Scorpion Championship Title Fight
Vincent Pembridge Vs. Damnson

"Kashmir" by Led Zeppelin.

And out came the young boy, Damnson. 5'8", 150 lbs. Barely a man, but already earning $20,000 a month for fighting the good fight. Wearing a black t-shirt with blue jeans, Damnson came out to a pretty decent reception, but the cheers grew louder as Quinton -- wearing a black leather vest, black jeans and black shoes -- appeared behind him seconds later, with his Television Title wrapped around his waist.

If it was a fight with Vincent Pembridge that Damnson had to go through, then Quinton May was definitely going to be at ringside to keep an eye out on proceedings. Damnson raised his arms in the air and shook them wildly as he reached the bottom of the ramp, before Quinton leaned in and whispered last words of advice. Patting his understudy on the back, Quinton proceeded to walk around the ring and take a seat at the timekeeper's table, slapping the hands of a few fans along the way.

Damnson, meanwhile, rolled into the ring and continued to look like the sneaky little bugger he was, as he scanned his surroundings and felt a little overwhelmed by the atmosphere. He knew that this contest would be the most crucial yet in the war between Quinton's Army & The British Army, and the spotlight was now on him. It was Damnson's time to shine, and the pressure that had mounted on his shoulders was immense.

Then, the arena went dark.

Screaming. Hissing. Rioting. Cursing.

A blue spotlight shined on the stage. And as Quinton May arose, his eyes burning with anticipation, the rollercoaster ride that seemed never-ending began.

"Time" by Taproot.

Bring on the hate, motherfuckers.

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?

Out the Arrogant Bastard stormed, wearing a Manchester United jersey with blue jeans and black boots. And of course, with his Scorpion Title in his right hand. For once, there was no sinister and malevolent smirk on his face. His undefeated record in ACW had vanished. His thReat Fighting Title was no longer with him. But the crowd reaction was surprisingly not mixed with taunting. The crowd had not forgotten the death of Bobby Knickerson.

"MURDERING ARSEHOLE!"
"MURDERING ARSEHOLE!"
"MURDERING ARSEHOLE!"
"MURDERING ARSEHOLE!"

Deep inside, Vincent sniggered at the pitiful peons that were screaming and hurling tons of abuse at him. He was loving the attention, and thrived on the negative reaction he got every single week.

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?

Climbing onto the ring apron, Vincent tossed his Scorpion Title into the ring as Damnson retreated into one of the four corners of the turnbuckle, carefully keeping a safe distance from the British Degenerate. Vincent got into the ring and ignored Quinton's cold glare, and chose to look out at the crowd that considered The Plague From Manchester the bane of ACW's existence.

How true that fact was.

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.

Suddenly, the British Degenerate smiled and looked upwards, with the blue spotlight penetrating his eyes with maximum effect. Vincent didn't blink, however. He had a feeling that the night was going to be a good one for him.

Minds.

As the house lights returned, Vincent quickly turned around and got a real smack in his face, as Damnson charged out of the corner and knocked Pembridge senseless with a running sidekick! Vincent staggered backwards but didn't fall, managing to block the follow-up hook from Damnson. Going for a hook of his own, Vincent was somewhat surprised to see Damnson block it, before getting kicked in the gut...

And drilled to the canvas in a DDT!

"DAMNSON ROCKS!"
"DAMNSON ROCKS!"
"DAMNSON ROCKS!"
"DAMNSON ROCKS!"

Vincent's eyes told the story of complete surprise, as Quinton celebrated like a cheerleader on the outside. Damnson was quick to follow up on Vincent recovering, pulling the Scorpion Champion up by his neck and ramming his fists into the Brit's face. His size, however, ensured that his punches hardly fazed Vincent... who struck back with a vicious headbutt. The fanfare ended, and Pembridge pulled Damnson up, quickly striking with another headbutt; this time, even more force was put behind it.

The result? Damnson was down like a horny bastard on his girlfriend, and his nose was broken.

So, the count started up;

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

And Damnson was back up.

So, Vincent picked up his Scorpion Title and rushed forward, smashing it into the face of the flea-ridden member of QA, turning him inside out with the smash of the title into his face! Quinton screamed out in frustration, but Vincent simply tossed his title away and sniggered at the crowd, who were jeering hysterically now.

Again, the count started up;

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

Yet again, Damnson was up to his feet, staggering around like a drunkard. Vincent shook his head, showing a fake admiration for Damnson's spirit... when really, he was just waiting for the perfect time to pounce. Cagey like a tiger, the Callous Fighting Machine ignored the hail of jeers beating down on his bald head, and the concerned gaze from enemy Quinton May, and already begun thinking of his celebratory jig.

Damnson finally turned to face Vincent, and the latter's right hand shot out swiftly, wrapping itself around Damnson's neck. Quinton put his hands on his head, fearful of what was to come. The crowd stood to their feet, also anticipating something they didn't want to see happen to a member of QA, a cheeky little bugger who'd been fighting rather valiantly so far.

CHOKESLAM TIME!!!

Well, not really.

....

Nigga what?

See, as Vincent raised Damnson in the air, the latter somehow managed to drive his hand into Pembridge's left shoulder and momentarily locked in a nerve hold of sorts, temporarily paralysing the Scorpion. This allowed Damnson to fall behind his bigger opponent and in the process, lift Vincent up onto his shoulders. The entire audience gasped at the sight of the short and scrawny Damnson trying to balance Vincent Pembridge on his shoulders, as his legs almost gave away...

But as the camera flashes went off... and Quinton's eyes gleamed with delight... the arena exploded with the biggest pop ever recorded in ACW history.

Damnson had just punk'd Vincent Pembridge out with a death valley driver!!

"DAMNSON ROCKS!"
"DAMNSON ROCKS!"
"DAMNSON ROCKS!"
"DAMNSON ROCKS!"

Damnson punched the air as he arose to his feet, and mouthed off to Vincent who was spasming about on the canvas. Sensing that just one more high-impact move could put the Degenerate away, Damnson rushed over to the corner turnbuckle and began to climb to the top, his eyes glinting with eager anticipation.

Vincent, meanwhile, was finding it hard to get back to his feet. And also, realising that he'd have to resort to drastic measures to ensure that the Scorpion Title remained in his possession by the end of the night.

So, he pulled out a knife from his sock.

....

Yes, a knife. You read correctly. And he made sure that nobody saw it, too.

Somebody did, though.

Quinton.

"Fuck him," Quincy muttered angrily.

Before he folded the chair he was sitting on and slid into the ring, much to the crowd's delight. Damnson, by now, was perched at the top of the turnbuckle, ready to connect with whatever move that was to come. Vincent was still playing possum, keeping his weapon well concealed.

Quinton wasn't about to let another member of his crew die on his watch, and he charged forward, chair above his head, ready to strike.

Vincent had the danger well scouted, however, and ducked the chairshot, before side kicking Quincy in the spine. The chair slipped out of the Television Champion's grasp, and Quinton himself crashed into the turnbuckle face-first.

In the process, knocked Damnson down onto the turnbuckle, his crown jewels being smashed!

"VINCENT SUCKS!"
"VINCENT SUCKS!"
"VINCENT SUCKS!"
"VINCENT SUCKS!"

If they thought that was bad enough, the worse was yet to come.

With one swift move, Vincent tossed the backpedaling Quinton out of his way, before running towards the turnbuckle and executing a remarkable flying dropkick upwards. One that knocked Damnson off the top turnbuckle...

And out of the ring, to the padded concrete below, his head narrowly missing making contact with the steel steps.

Just like that, it was all over! Vincent Pembridge was victorious via ring-out, and the crowd once again began to jeer maniacally, a dark cloud of hate enveloping the ring... as the Scorpion Of Manchester regained his footing, looking at the knife a few feet away from him. Grinning, he crawled towards it, wanting to get the job finished.

But. There was a problem.

*CRACK*

Quinton May had recovered, and had regained possession of the steel chair.

*CRACK*

One shot to the head, one shot to the back of the neck. Quincy threw the chair down and looked at the crowd cheering wildly for him, as the Scorpion Of Manchester was on the canvas, writhing in agony, completely at the mercy of Quincy Mama. Grinning, May crouched down and slapped Vincent in the face, before grabbing hold...

Of the knife.

"You wanna play dirty? I'll play dirty!"

But. There was a twist.

....

Don't be shocked, there's always a twist.

From behind, came an unexpected attacker.

*CRACK*

And the crowd were stunned.

....

He was a traitor.

DAMNSON.

Vincent Pembridge struggled up to his feet and laughed sadistically as DAMNSON dropped the chair and crouched down, firing away with punches to Quinton's face. The entire arena were silenced, and could only jeer in disdain and absolute disapproval, as the man they'd been supporting for during the fight had been in cahoots with the Scorpion of Manchester in all actuality. Vincent demanded a microphone from the ring announcer, and promptly got it.

While Damnson pulled Quinton up, kicked him in the gut, and the ultimate insult was completed as the young flea-ridden traitor scored with the pulling piledriver; Quincy's trademark move. Vincent burst out laughing once again, with the crowd now beginning to toss rubbish into the ring.

"Ever heard of a Trojan Horse, Quinton? Well, you've been duped right from the start, mate. In war, you've always got to make sure that you've got a Trojan Horse, infiltrating the enemy camp. And the added bonus is when the Trojan bonds with every member of the group. Loads of valuable information can be obtained!"

Gloating, Vincent watched on as Damnson continued to pummel the Dictator of QA, until Janitor Morris & Janitor Howard lifted the crowd spirits, by marching down the ramps, their game face on. No way were they gonna stand by and watch the betrayal of their leader, while the British Degenerate tugged away at the strings.

But, Drake Nefarian popped out of the crowd wearing street clothes, and guess what?

He was wielding a chair.

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

And within seconds, Morris & Howard were laying on the ramp, completely busted open. The Hired Hitman of the British Army grinned as he tossed the chair down, and saluted Vincent Pembridge, who returned the salute and laughed. It had been a great night for The British Army, as they systemically tore apart the opposition.

There was just one piece of the puzzle left.

Where were Liam & 006.392?

Oh, in the back. Liam was simply making sure that the van he'd thrown a bound and gagged 006.392 into was locked properly. A tactic used before by .vindication, but hey, if it ain't broke, why fix it, right?

So, as Vincent Pembridge dropped his microphone and picked up his Scorpion Title, kissing it to savour the moment, the crowd in attendance had to watch on as their heroes were methodically being ripped apart, their spirit crushed by the more ruthless British Army. There was only one thing on the minds of everyone.

What next?

Winner: No Contest