- - [June 15th 2003] - -
Broadcasting LIVE! from Cedar Rapids, Iowa at 10/9 p.m. CT

PREVIOUSLY... If ACW staff and fans thought that things could not get any worse...they were wrong. After a mildly successful Courage last Sunday, ICU dropped a bombshell of the year as he took his ball and left, leaving ACW and his ACW World Heavyweight Championship behind. Now...with ACW is serious trouble, the Guardians come to Iowa to find out that someone is here to try and change the way ACW is going...Charles Dunn returns.

Quinton's Army Meeting #013

"Oh yeah?"

"FREAKING YEAH!"

"Can we not fight like this?"

"Oh yeah?"

"FREAKING YEAH!"

"Hello? Is anybody listening to me?"

"Oh yeah?"

"FREAKING YEAH!"

"Are you people understanding the words that are coming outta my mouth?"

"Oh yeah?

"FREAKING YEAH!"

"VAAAAAAAAAAAAIS! VAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIS! VAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIS!"

Silence befell the boiler room, for the first time in the past two minutes. Courtesy of some sort of war cry from 006.392 who had trimmed his hair, over the course of the last week. Quinton & Janitor Morris, the two men arguing, hung their heads in shame over the petty arguing they were having.

Quincy finally cleared his throat with the rest of his Army looking at him, and wincing at the cuts on his face. Sustained by 006.392 in that impromptu and life-changing fight in the parking lot, the prior week. They looked kinda bad, Janitor Howard, and really should have healed by now.

Quinton wasn't really worrying over that.

"Okay, I'm sorry, Morris. I didn't mean to shave your arsehair... but next time, PLEASE SLEEP WITH SOME UNDIES ON, DAMMIT! It doesn't only boil down to common courtesy, but the fact is... it tempts me! I WAS GAY, AFTER ALL! And I must admit, you've got one hell of an arse.

BUT PLEASE, WEAR UNDIES NEXT TIME!"

The rest of the crew -- Howard, 006.392, and Damnson -- began giggling, as Morris blushed in shame. He nodded, taking down Quincy's pointers, while rubbing his bare ass at the same time. Life wasn't gonna be the same without his arsehair, he thought, but he'd get over it.

"I'LL FREAKING GET OVER IT!" he exclaimed, grinning wildly.

Quinton smiled, and he motioned for his troops to fall in. There was a meeting to be held, after all. Even Damnson fell in with the rest now, although he was as hunchback as ever... and with that freaky-ass smile on his face. One that even rivaled Howard's when he saw a young woman with a great ass.

....

Perverted bunch, aren't they? I mean, seriously.

"Okay, so... the agenda for tonight. Howard, Morris... you all know what to do. Keep on your toes, and don't be afraid to do whatever you guys think is necessary to do. With Vincent around, we'll never know what we might be in store for. We've got to be flexible now, and play the guessing game as effectively as possible.

006, Damnson... same thing. The plan's been given to you already. But please, be careful. Find the right time to execute it, and make full use of it. Time is of the essence here, and you must act fast if we're gonna succeed in this little heist of us. The prize is important, so don't mess up!

Everybody okay? Got everything jotted down?"

The guys nodded their heads, understanding everything Quinton had said. Howard was a wee bit confused about something, however. And as scared as he was to ask, he just had to do it.

"What are you going to be doing, by the way?"

Everybody kept silent and looked at the Dictator, who folded his arms and smiled elatedly, for some reason. It was as if he had one hell of an answer lined up, which would so not relate to anything within the federation.

"I've gotta meet my kid -- belated Father's Day celebration."

....

You heard correctly, folks. Oh yeah, and Happy Father's Day. ;)

Arriving [Part I]



The camera pans backstage to see the ‘Original Pulp Hero’ Alias arriving to the arena as the fans explode. He is wearing an ‘ACW rules’ t-shirt and some blue jeans. Alias is carrying his gym bag as he walks down the hall looking for his dressing room. Alias walks up to a tech that has a clipboard in his hand.

“Do you know where my room is?” Alias said to the young man 

The tech studied the clipboard for a few seconds before answering Alias.

“Your room is down the hall to the right and it will be the fourth door on the left.” The tech said

“Thanks kid.” Alias said as he walked pass the tech toward his dressing room. Alias suddenly stop and he turned to look over his shoulder back to the tech.

“Has Vince Jacobs arrived yet?” Alias said with a look of disdain on his face

The tech glanced at his clipboard again. Alias knew that the techs had to account for everyone when they came to the arena. He wanted to know if Vince was here because he something to say to him before their match tonight.

“No sir, Mr. Jacobs has not arrived yet.” the tech replied

“When he gets here can you tell him I’m looking for him” Alias said as he started down the hall toward his dressing room.

Sick Of Playing Nice Guys

"Look At Me" by Geri Halliwell.

You know you love that song. And so do the guys that came swaggering out, receiving a mixture of cheers and jeers. An improvement from the last time they came out to the ring -- on that occasion, they'd received dead heat. That was two weeks ago. Last week, was a slightly different story.

First, they were jeered. Because they clocked El Janitors with chairs.

Then, they were cheered. Because .vindication were hammered by 'em, with the same chairs.

Hence, the mixed response now, as Andi & Joey walked down the ramp with arrogant smiles on their faces. Nobody in attendance quite knew whether to like or hate the tandem, making it very confusing. It wasn't as if the Kole Brothers had done anything much in their time in the ACW thus far, but slowly, they were working towards their goal.

And that goal entailed proving themselves on the big stage, by any means possible.

Finally rolling into the ring, Andi & Joey raised their arms into the air, inciting a slightly more positive fan reaction, as the ring announcer slid microphones into the ring. The two brothers were wearing soccer jerseys again -- Andi with a white one that belonged to a club by the name of Blackburn Rovers FC, Joey donning a purplish one that was property of a club that went by the name of West Ham United. Other than that, both men were dressed similarly.

But they were so different in personalities, it was freaky. No wonder they were called the odd couple of tag team wrestling, despite the fact that they hadn't been around in the industry for that long.

Andi picked up both microphones and tossed one to Joey, who looked out at the crowd, trying to act as cool as possible. Really, he was overawed by the occasion and the fact that tons of people were looking at him in the ring. All their eyes, inquisitive and curious, plastered on him and his brother. It was completely un-nerving.

His legs began to shake and get weak.

Andi, on the other hand, was as calm as a bird. Being older, he knew how to handle stress a wee bit better. He too was nervous, as the feeling in the pit of his stomach would suggest... but he had nothing to lose by being out there. Hell, neither did his brother. As a team, this was their chance to simply establish themselves. If anything did go wrong, it wouldn't affect 'em much.

"Hello, people! You all must be wondering why the hell are we out here. I mean, we're not cool or anything. We are what you call... MISFITS! But we don't care, because last week, we did something that no one else has managed to do. Okay, maybe because nobody else cares about them much, and also because as a team, they're brand new.

BUT WE KNOCKED OUT THOSE TWO BUMS, LIAM & NEFARIAN!"

Massive cheers began to reverberate throughout the arena, as memories of Andi & Joey clobbering Liam & Drake Nefarian with steel chairs came flooding back to the minds of everyone. The funny thing was, Liam had gotten some of the Brit teenagers assigned to him to do the dirty work.

Getting Andi & Joey to agree to work for Liam and Nefarian, to put one over El Janitors. And funnily enough, the Kole Brothers decided to go along with it. That left everyone scratching their heads in confusion, and despising the two brothers. Momentarily, at least.

Now, an explanation was being expected.

"The thing is, I'm sure you all want to know why did we even agree to help Liam & Nefarian. Well, DUH! Two weeks ago, Joey & I got trounced by that idiot, Liam. Then he got his little playgroup to come out and kick the shit out of us. That is something we didn't appreciate at all.

So, what... they expected us just to accept their proposition last week, without any memory of what happened the week before? NO FUCKING WAY! We're smarter than we look, people!

It was all about payback!"

More cheers from the crowd, somewhat surprised at the pieces of the puzzle that factored into the two Kole Brothers turning on Liam & Nefarian. It sounded oh-so-complex, especially for the likes of dimwits Andi & Joey. But it seemed as if they were well on their way to proving otherwise.

Joey raised the microphone to his mouth now, as Andi nodded at him, giving him the all-clear to speak up.

"We don't feel remorse for hitting Howard & Morris, either. Sure, they got us into this place... but we expected them to help us whenever we needed help. And last week, they shunned us. They were more interested in reading their magazines and shit, than helping us!

I think, that by now, we've proven ourselves. That we've shown Mr Quinton that we deserve to be part of QA. But nope, we haven't gotten any phone call or whatever.

So, you all know what? We're sick of playing nice guys. Andi and myself are going to go all out to not just prove to Quinton May... but to everyone else that we're WORTHY of being in the ACW, and that we're worthy of all the respect in the world! We're gonna do it our way, too, because it's gonna be OUR defining moment!"

Slight jeers returned, at the inference of The Kole Brothers possibly severing any friendly ties they might have had with El Janitors, Howard & Morris. Looked as if the goal for Joey & Andi now didn't involve making a difference to one person's opinion.

They were aiming for global recognition, however flaky that sounded.

"AND WE'RE GONNA START TONIGHT, BY TAKING ON LIAM & NEFARIAN IN A MATCH!!" Andi added as the final statement, before throwing his microphone out of the ring.

Roars of approval exploded within the audience, at the revealing of Kole Brothers taking on .vindication tonight. Joey too threw his microphone out of the ring and traded high-fives with his older brother, as their awful theme song started up again. Joey & Andi made a rather hasty exit from the ring, no longer smiling sardonically.

Their new outlook on the mission at hand had them scowling. Was this a change for the better or the worst, for Andi & Joey?

Only time would tell.

Bringing Down The Iron Fist

You would expect the setting to be the car park, but it isn't.

On this night, Vincent Pembridge feels different.

He feels... extreme anger.

He's furious.

Incensed.

Enraged.

Pissed off.

And whatever the hell else sounds good in this situation. Bottom line -- he ain't happy.

In his locker-room, he paced up and down, fists clenched. In front of him stood three men. You've come to know them over the past couple of weeks -- Liam, Drake Nefarian, and Bobby Knickerson. Okay, maybe you know the first two more than the last bugger. But that's not the point here.

And neither is Vincent overly mad at Bobby.

"So, Liam, what is going to happen tonight?"

He stopped his pacing, and looked at his right-hand man, Liam, who cleared his throat... readying an explanation. Getting trounced by The Kole Brothers last week on Courage was something that infuriated Vincent to high heaven, especially seeing how Joey & Andi Kole were 'acquired' to help the Irishman with the eradication of El Janitors from QA.

Liam & Nefarian were outplayed, however. Completely and utterly outplayed. All the British teenagers were bewildered by the acts of the Kole Brothers, but Vincent knew exactly why Andi & Joey did what they did. Now, everybody had known, thanks to the in-ring promo just a few minutes earlier.

Before Liam could even open his mouth, to attempt to answer, Vincent held a finger up to his own mouth.

"What happened last week, as I've reminded you over and over again, was bloody atrocious. Abysmal, even. I do not wish for a repetition of something so foolish from you & Nefarian. I don't bloody care if you two are my most important gladiators now, anybody fecks up... and they'll get fecked up.

Now, take care of those sodding cunts tonight. I don't bloody care how you & Drake do it, but just do it. They've proven that they won't be of much use to us, so better than having them around and being a liability to us, simply dispose of them. Then we can fully concentrate on Quinton's Army.

And those bloody cunts, El Janitors."

Liam nodded his head, agreeing with everything Pembridge had to say. Drake nodded too, as he took a step back and began walking out of the room, with Liam right behind him. The scowl on Vinnie's face never vanished -- it wouldn't, until he got to see genuine results.

The antics of The Kole Brothers, however, wasn't the only thing bothering him now.

Gabriel So'ialu, one of the newest prospects in the ACW, had thrown himself into the mix... aiming to become the man that would finally put an end to the pest known as the Scorpion Of Manchester.

"Bobby, we've got some important things to do tonight."

Knickerson breathed a little heavily, somewhat due to excitement.

"Oh yeah? What's it going to be about?"

Vincent finally smiled, as he walked over to Knickerson and patted him on the back. Bobby grinned as well, although he had no idea what was going on and why exactly was the Scorpion doing whatever he was doing.

"Tonight, we're going to make Gabriel So'ialu a man.

For bloody real."

This doesn't bode well for So'ialu, does it?

Blocked [1]

The purring hum of a Bristol Fighter engine signalled the arrival of Gabriel So’ialu. The car slithered into his assigned parking space. From within the depths of the luxurious car, a huge frame opened the silver metallic door, and stepped out, holding a black duffel bag containing his attire.

Dressed in a San Diego Charger’s jersey, and a pair of three-quarter length zip off pants, Gabriel tilted his sunglasses onto the end of his nose: before finally resting them on the neck of his jersey.

Rolling his neck in a circular motion, Gabriel continued forward to the entranceway of the building.

“Oi! Wanker, you ain’t going nowhere!”

A voice called out from behind Gabriel. Assuming the call was not for him, he merely continued on his way.

“Oi, blondey! Turn your fecking head this way!”

Gabriel shifted his gaze, as he began to peer over his right shoulder. He saw an entourage of Scorpion followers; all gesticulating wildly at Gabriel, yelling abuse and the like.

Gabriel turned, raising his eyebrow at the leader of the group. So’ialu dropped his duffel bag, kicking it underneath a nearby car, before moving towards the group of ten. Gabriel approached the protagonist of the group, without a sense of caution.

“What? What do you want?” Gabriel’s voice showed a tone of displeasure at the interruption.

“Back off. You ain’t going in the arena tonight, sonny Jim.”

“Sonny Jim? Look Sarah, I could beat you and your little group up with one hand behind my back. Don't mess with me, because you sure as well won't like what I'll dish out.”

Gabriel moved closer and closer into the leader of the small group.

“Yeah… you probably could.”

A smile formed on Gabriel's face, as he had thought he had won this little battle.

“But…”

His smile faded, for some reason.

“What about that lot other there, as well?”

Gabriel shifted his eyesight to a group of much larger boys, bringing the total group to around twenty bodies. So’ialu backed away, as a small circle of bodies began to appear around him. With an assured sense of superiority, the leader of the small group stepped into the middle of the circle.

“Like I said, blondie. You ain’t going anywhere.”

With that said, the grins of the group grew, with Gabriel apparently trapped. But this was the Shadow Angel they were dealing with…

A whole different kettle of fish’n’chips.

Let the games begin.

Determination

“WHAT?” Jade was furious as the doctor shined the light into one eye, then the other. She pushed him away and looked at him with anger. 

“…You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“I’m sorry Jade. I’m not clearing you to wrestle this week. And you know that if you’re not cleared and you do it anyways, you could get a hefty fine.” 

The ACW doctor began to pack up his belongings into his little black bag and closed it up. He looked down at Jade who was hanging her head in thought. “I’m sorry Jaded One, but you’re not wrestling!” With that he walked out of her locker room, letting the heavy door slam behind him. 

Jade stood up and threw a lamp across the room, letting it smash on the wall. The pieces fell to the floor, leaving a pile of colored, shattered glass beneath a dent in the wall. “This is bloody ridiculous!” Jade rubbed her head as she paced around the locker room, thinking hard and limping slightly. 

She knew something like this was going to happen to keep her from wrestling Hillary this week and she was bitter.

For the last few days, she had been working out and stretching out her sore body, just so she could wrestle Hillary Small. Now that damn ACW doctor told her she wasn’t allowed to do it. She was still hurt, she could admit that, but nothing ever kept her out of the ring for long. Her point was proven last Courage, with Osyrus. She still wanted to kill him, but now she had larger fish to fry…literally. 

Jade frowned as she slammed her hand down on the table beside her. 

This wasn’t happening to her tonight.

ACW Scorpion Championship Fight
Vincent Pembridge(c) Vs. Chad Stalin

  

Oh, joy. A fight was to take place. 

And this was... a wrestling company, yes?

Two words.

Vincent Pembridge.

One of the latest who was making sure that his hatred for wrestling was heard by all. One of the latest who attempted to change things, by bring a little bit of true fighting back into the lives of people, now living conservatively in their comfortable homes and sleeping in their cozy beds. Hailed as a hero by some, despised by the rest.

Wait, his failure in thReat made him hated by all. If he couldn't do jack there, what made him think he could bring change to the ACW, a place with rich history?

Now, very few of those who once cheered for Vincent regarded him as a messiah of fighting, and no more belief in him. Seemed his defeat in thReat was costlier than earlier estimated. But if you think the Scorpion of Manchester really gives a shit about the opinions of people, you'd be oh-so-wrong.

Oh-so-VERY-wrong.

On this night, the ACW crowd were looking forward to this fight. Last week, Vincent had been pushed to his limits by a newbie named Forme Carlos. And he wasn't the most experienced in the realm of fighting, either. With a challenger like Chad Stalin, a title change is surely on the cards, innit?

"Spit It Out" by Slipknot was the catalyst for a barrage of cheers, as Chad Stalin appeared immediately from behind the curtains and made his way down the ring, which was now being filled with several steel chairs and a lead pipe by the referee. Who, really, wouldn't have to do much during Scorpion Title fights. Other than getting his ass into the ring for the 15-count or for a submission.

The Bulldozer -- simply wearing blue jeans and black shoes -- was in the ring quick enough, and the second he got inside, not really caring about the cheers emitted by the crowd in his favour, the house lights went out.

Ooooh boy, listen to all that hate being generated. Something special, innit?

Could only mean one thing, aye? Aye. Elementary, my dear Watson.

"Time" by Taproot.

The man who currently held, and initiated, the Scorpion Title. Whether YOU recognize it or not, that's your problem. Fact was, he was the bane of ACW's existence. He was...

Vincent fucking/sodding Pembridge.

You know what to do. Right? No?

Jeer the heck out of him. And that was exactly what the crowd did. Deep in the pit of their stomachs, most had a feeling that they wouldn't like what they would be exposed to. Bt Chad Stalin was a massive man, and he surely would prove to be more than enough competition for the Scorpion of Manchester.

The stage was set for a possible upset. At least, an upset was what the people were hoping for.

Time; just a counter-clockwise in motion.
Time; it requires strength, love, and devotion.
Time; a detention of every person.
Time; is used to make us free again.

When we can turn back time, to any time.
By... by moving on inside.
And will we still ask why about the time?
Or be just fine inside of our minds?

Vincent -- decked out in a pair of faded grayish jeans and black shoes -- appeared from the back and immediately scowled, as the hate grew... but this time, there was more taunting added to the mix. A blue spotlight was now focused on the callous fighter, as he walked towards the ring, the aura of contempt hanging heavily in the air. The taunting, however, was getting louder and more vocal.

He simply tapped the Scorpion Title that was wrapped around his waist, and proceeded down the ramp.

Time; grows things older, faster when you find it.
Time; it's wasting away while we spend it.
Time; a reflection of our past with it.
Time; is used to make things right again.

When we can turn back time, to any time.
By... by moving on inside.
And will we still ask why about the time?
Or be just fine inside of our minds?

Reaching the bottom of the ramp, Pembridge slowly walked around the ring before ascending up the steps and onto the ring apron, slowly stepping into the ring. Stalin retreated into one of the four corners of the ring, eyeing Vincent carefully. He didn't want to act like a pussy and get the fight started then & there. The Scorpion, meanwhile, turned to the section of the crowd which were seated behind the announce team and sneered at them.

They showed him the middle-finger, and began the throwing of garbage.

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.

Chad Stalin grinned, for the first time on the night, at the lyrics of Vincent's theme.

Minds.

The house lights returned, as the song came to an end. Vince cracked his knuckles, getting ready to showcase to everyone in attendance his arsenal of fighting and brawling moves. He unhooked the title from around his waist and let it drop to the canvas, looking at Stalin in the eyes as he did so. Chad snorted, then cocked his hears to listen to the melodious chant that had started up.

Vincent sniggered, and let the hate rain down on him.

"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"
"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"
"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"
"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"
"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"
"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"
"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"
"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"

The bell had rung as the chant died down, and the two combatants glared at each other again, before beginning the circling of each other. The atmosphere was definitely cagey, with the crowd's hostility for the British Degenerate proving to be a bit of an unwanted distraction for, believe it or not, Stalin.

However, he made the first move, sending a powerful right set of knuckles cascading into Vincent’s jaw to the delight of the fans. Vincent staggered backwards, leaving himself open to another powerful punch to the chin that rocked The Scorpion back against the ropes. Vincent turned and spat, before spinning back around… catching Stalin in his eye socket with a scintillating elbow smash.

Stalin ducked an incoming charging uppercut however, and managed to get a firm grip around Vincent’s waist. The Boundary Breaker then charged forwards, his legs driving him in motion and slamming The Scorpion’s spine down onto the canvas, eliciting a wince of agony from Vincent. With a huge haul, Stalin then lifted Vincent up... hurling him overhead with a belly-to-belly suplex.

Pembridge landed flat on his back, bouncing and ricocheting from the mat as the fans cheered loudly due to Vincent getting his 'sodding arse' handed to him. Stalin followed up with a sharp kick to the back of Vincent’s hairless skull, and then stomped the heel of his boot into his opponent’s face with a primal roar. Feeling good so far, Stalin threw his arms into the air to a deafening boom...

Then crouched to his right, picking up a steel chair.

Vincent began to stumble to his feet, not quite sure where he was or why he was there. He turned to Chad and shot out his arm for a fist to the face, but Stalin was crafty for his size and managed to duck beneath Vincent’s arm, stepping behind him...

*CRACK*

And slamming the cold, hard steel into Vincent’s spine. Stalin followed up with a further two blows, each one drawing more of a response from the raving fans… who were now breaking out in chants of Stalin’s name.

"STALIN ROCKS!"
"STALIN ROCKS!"
"STALIN ROCKS!"
"STALIN ROCKS"

Oh, the irony. But I digress. Chad threw the chair aside and pulled The Scorpion up, sneering at him as he did so, before he drove him down onto the steel with a thunderous DDT. Vincent seemed to be out of it, and Chad grinned, whilst the referee made an early count;

1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.

The Scorpion's eyes shot open, fury inherent in his pupils.

Now he was bloody pissed.

Vincent arose to his feet, wiping the sweat off his face with his hand, before turning and charging into Stalin with the ferocity of an uncaged animal. Stalin looked rather shocked as Vincent charged into him and slammed his forehead into the Geordie’s face with a sickening headbutt, jarring Stalin’s nose and causing it to swill with blood. Vincent then reached upwards and slammed his palms into The Bulldozer’s face with two chilling uppercuts... before taking one step back, then leaping into the air and driving his foot into Stalin’s face.

Jumping thrust kick.

Stalin tumbled into one of the four corners of the ring and slumped right down to the canvas, with blood smeared from his nose over his upper lip. Vincent spat again, and started to maniacally laughed as he looked out at the fans. Much to their displeasure, of course.

"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"
"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"
"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"
"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"
"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"
"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"
"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"
"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"

Yeah, they’re not too fond of Vincent Pembridge. You should know that by now... cunt.

As the boos continued, Chad had helped himself up with the help of the ropes and leaned against them, to get a breather. The Scorpion crouched down to grab each of Stalin’s legs and pulled them from the mat, so that Stalin was hanging by his arms on the top rope. He got a stern grip of Stalin’s thighs, and lifted him up from the ropes in a powerbomb-esque position...

"OOOOOF!"

Before slamming Stalin’s back down onto the top rope, with immense power. The Boundary Breaker winced in pain as his spine connected... but Vincent wasn’t done. He hauled Stalin back up…

"OOOOOF!"

And did it again. Stalin gasped for air as he was almost broken in two, before being brought up onto Vincent’s shoulders for a third time.

"OOOOOF!"

Stalin found himself at Vincent’s mercy… as Vincent hauled Stalin onto his shoulders a fourth and final time, but this time not dropping The Bulldozer across the ropes. Instead, Vincent spun around, before charging forward and quite horrendously jamming Stalin’s head and neck down onto the chair with a scintillating running powerbomb!

Vincent didn’t allow a count to be started up though, as he knew that Chad wouldn't stay down that easily. He dragged Stalin to his feet, and slammed a boot into his sternum before hooking his head...

And finding himself being lifted into the air.

.... Say what?

Despite just suffering four brutal spinal impacts, Stalin showed his grit and determination in bringing Vincent up onto one shoulder and throwing him overhead with a perfect northern lights suplex, drawing sighs of relief and roars of jubilation from the crowd.

Feeling a rush of adrenaline, Stalin picked the Scorpion up and sent him hurtling to the outside, but not over the top; simply through the ropes. A mistake by Chad? Hardly. He bided his time, and once Vincent was vertical again, the Bulldozer started his engines... sending himself flying through the ropes in a suicide dive, risking his own body.

The pair of them crashed down to the mat, with some impact. The mats did nothing to cushion their fall, and the two men were slammed down onto the unforgiving floor mercilessly as the fans roared on in the background... their support for Stalin and calls for Vincent’s head growing louder.

Chad Stalin, expectedly, was to his feet first... and as he turned around, Vincent was already halfway up. A kick to the side of the champion's head saw the latter tumble back down to the ground, and narrowly missed having his head smashing into the steel steps. So far, Chad had been the superior force in the fight.

And it was something Vincent kept in mind as, unknown to Stalin, one of his hands slid under the ring.

As the self-proclaimed Human Wrecking Ball strode over, aiming to inflict more damage upon the Scorpion of Manchester, Vincent rolled on his back and smashed a kendo stick into the abdominals of Stalin. A sickening crack was heard, as the stick broke in half, and Chad doubled over in pain... even dropping to one knee.

That was the opening Vincent Pembridge needed, as he raised his left knee upwards, smashing it into Stalin's jaw and sending him tumbling backwards, crashing on his back against the mat.

"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"
"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"
"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"
"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"
"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"
"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"
"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"
"VIN - CENT SUCKS!"

Back on his feet by this time, the Scorpion Of Manchester grinned at the sight of more blood flowing out from Stalin's nose. Vince grabbed his opponent by the neck and pulled him up, rolling him into the ring without any mercy. The crowd's hissing intensified by now, and it really killed the atmosphere... making it completely hostile. Vincent didn't mind.

Not as if it deterred him from climbing to the top of one of the four turnbuckles.

.... Say what?

Yep, Vincent Pembridge was aiming to score with an aerial assault here. And as he barely managed to balance himself, the Scorpion took flight, soaring through the air... driving down his elbow into the sternum of Chad Stalin. Truly incredible, for a man of Vince's size. What was more remarkable was that Pembridge was back on his feet within the blink of an eye.

And the count had started up;

1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.

Chad, amazingly, fought through the searing pain and brought himself back up to his feet. Vincent wasn't really too fond of that, as he picked up a chair and from his crouched position, tossed it at Stalin.

The Bulldozer caught it, preventing the steel from making contact with his face.

And within a nanosecond, Vincent rose up like a phoenix rising from the bowels of Hell, driving his foot into the chair and thereby, Stalin's face, with a fierce sidekick.

Scorpion Sting, baby.

Cue the count;

1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.

....

....

15.

It seemed to last shorter than Vincent's probable epic with Forme Carlos the previous week, but this had been -- by far -- more brutal and challenging. Vincent breathed a sigh of relief, as he crawled out of the ring and collected his Scorpion Title from the referee. Once again, victorious, much to the disgust of the masses.

And still, undefeated.

Winner: Vincent Pembridge

Welcome Back...To Hell [Part 1]

Dunn and Boyd were the heart and soul of All-Star Championship Wrestling.

They were the founders and the owners of ACW for mostly all of it's ten year existence, but at this time of need, it seemed that their vast experience and knowledge of their promotion and this business, didn't seem to be helping them.

The back entrance to the arena was filling by a handful of people, as the others were busy working away on the last minute preparations for the show, which were needed. SilverHAWK stood with Joe Bishop as a cab pulled up to the arena, as HAWK peered through the front window, Dunn sat in the back searching for the change to pay for the fair.

For the owner of a major wrestling federation to arrive in a cab, really put forward the trouble in which ACW was in.

Dunn exited the taxi as it pulled away, he had no luggage, as he wasn't intending to stay in Iowa for long, only as long as the show would be lasting, but as he walked up to the entrance, and HAWK and Stern, he smiled at the two men he had not seen since the week after Legends, where he gave them full control.

Sure he had spoken to them by phone, but it was a little different seeing these men in person. Dunn shook Stern's hand before moving in to shake HAWK's, whom broke his usual cool exterior to hug his boss, as the duo shared an emotional embrace.

"It's good to see you man..." HAWK claimed, as the opened the door for the boss to enter his first ACW arena in quite a while. As Dunn entered, the room stopped as it seemed that all eyes were on him, and then suddenly, it seemed that he had brought a ray of sunshine to the staff, as they all seemed to smile as they went back to their work.

HAWK and Stern moved on as they took Dunn to his new office, as the owner shook hands and exchanged glances with a few of the staff before moving into the makeshift ACW HQ for the evening. HAWK moved his paperwork aside as he made space for Dunn, who duly sat down and sighed.

"It's good to be out of that hell hole HAWK..." Dunn said as he placed his arms behind his head and looked up at the ceiling.

"Yeah..." Stern commented, "but now you're in an even bigger hell hole boss."

Royal Flush

The glass shattered against the wall.

Jason Kain didn’t know why he was still here other than the fact that his anger had reached a pinnacle, and he somehow couldn’t bring himself to get on with his life. Osyrus had figured out a way to destroy him, if not physically, mentally. His life was ruined.

The monitor screen exploded.

The chair that Kain was swinging around the room had dents all over it. Kain was beyond repair at this moment, and all because of three people. For one, there was Osyrus, claiming that he was the god of the ring. Blasphemy. Yet, he continued his tirade, just attacking Kain where he believed he could hurt him the most. But he didn’t do his research… someone else did.

Isis.

That bitch had taken everything away from him without even putting her lips near him. She just made sure she was in the right place at the wrong time. She also knew that to destroy the man, you had to hit him where it would REALLY have hurt… and she studied his past experiences. His heart was more exposed than his faith. Hit him in both, and the attack would be devastating. She took it upon herself to do so.

But all of this could have been saved… he could have figured out another way to get back at Osyrus and Isis, even if his match at Glory would be gone. But the savior never made it’s appearance. Kain’s only option was to lose to an idiot… humble himself in front of all the fans… Calm himself down. SilverHAWK knew it would go badly, but he didn’t know that it could go this far.

HAWK walked into the room and looked at the devastation. Not only was the room completely trashed, but a cameraman sent in to interview him was bloodied up and unconscious in the corner. Kain was out of control.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING, KAIN!?!?” HAWK looked livid.

Kain turned toward the man and glared. The look was of pure hatred. And the understanding was…

SilverHAWK is with Osyrus.

All control went out the window. Kain believed that HAWK only cared about the show and that’s why he risked Kain’s future with Jade just to see if Kain was willing to humiliate himself… He believed that HAWK knew that El couldn’t win the match, and figured that it’d be the only way he could take on Osyrus and have a good match at Glory. That’s all that “the man” cared about. Right?

Kain’s stared narrowed, and the mouth came up in a crazed sneer. He was beyond apology… both to him and to HAWK. Finally… Kain made the move.

Throwing a huge punch at SilverHAWK, he flipped the switch. HAWK instantly went on the defense, shoving Kain into the wall. Kain looked at him breathing heavily. HAWK knew that letting him go would be a bad idea, so he set in his own punch, then threw him into his chair.

“You calm your ass down. You’re lucky I don’t kill you myself for hitting me.” HAWK wiped his lip, then looked back at Kain. “I’m not the type of man you want to mess with, Kain. You want to take your anger out on something? Do it in the ring. You fuck up? You lose your shot at Osyrus. Got me?”

Kain glared at him. It looked as if he was about to cry, but at the same time, it looked at if he was shot in the stomach. He looked away from SilverHAWK, and stared at the ground. HAWK kneeled down in front of him, pulling him face to face with him.

“Listen up… I don’t know what the hell you’re thinking. But, you have a deal with me. You’re going to face Osyrus at Glory. I don’t care if you kill the bastard in the ring… but don’t be a stupid shit and destroy everything you’ve worked for…”

“You already did that for me, HAWK…” Kain interrupted.

“…NO I DIDN’T.” The stern reply jolted Kain in his seat. “Your priorities as askew, boy. I know that life throws nasty hands, but you have to play the cards… don’t fold. Don’t wimp out. FUCK EL! FUCK JADE! FUCK OSYRUS! This is about YOU… you have to see that if you play the cards instead of dropping them on the floor and having a hissy-fit, you can set things right later on.”

“No I can’t.” Kain shook his head.

“That type of attitude gets people fired, Kain.” HAWK smirked as he stood up. “And personally… I don’t think you want that to happen.”

Kain looked up at him, then stood up.

“Now, go out to the ring and win that match…” HAWK pointed at the door. “You lose, and you’ll have to wait until the next hand. You win, and you can get yourself that ace you’ve been looking for.”

Kain stood up and headed towards the door.

“All you need is that ace, Kain… don’t drop the hand, now.”

“I’m not doing this for you, HAWK… This isn’t for your show. This match isn’t even going to be pretty.” Kain looked at him then pushed the door open. “It’s just so I can get my hands on the asshole that ruined my life… And the world be damned if I DON’T kill him…”

Kain walked out the door as SilverHAWK looked at him. HAWK shook his head and crossed his arms.

“I never thought I’d ever say this… But, God help Osyrus.” HAWK walked out of the room and got back to work.

Fate

Inferno had never been a people person.

No shit huh.

As he sat in his locker room, with the lights off and the door open, he watched as the passers by peered in the door as they walked past, and then quickly turned away when they witnessed a mean set of eyes glaring back at them.

But as numerous people walked past, one man stopped, as he seemed to be a staff member for ACW.

"Mr. Inferno?"

Dante lifted his head as he peered into the young man's eyes, instantly installing him with fear.

"Mr. HAWK said that he is going to call both yourself and Mr. Dubbs out."

"Why is that exactly?"

"Because you have a shot at Glory...a shot at the United States Title."

With that, the young man left as Inferno sat in silence once more. He had never had the intention of becoming a champion, but fate is seems, had gold in his future.

The First Day

A black screen appears and then a caption that reads “Earlier today” right in the center of it appears and then fades into a scene somewhere in the hallways of the arena. 

The camera cuts in on a marked door somewhere in the arena. The writing on the door reads: ACW Staff Office on a black logo with bold white lettering. The door is open and the rear outline of someone dressed in a black polo t-shirt and blue jeans can be seen. More is identified as his close-cropped golden-brown hair and the slightly pale complexion of his neck and head can be seen. 

The view changes as it moves closer to the man. We see a typical office with a desk, chairs, a filing cabinet, etc. This figure is standing before the desk, and we soon get to see his face. It is scarred, but dignified. An innocent smile belies its features. At the moment, he is the only person in the room. The camera focuses on his crystalline blue eyes as it seems they are impossible not to focus on. 

Then a sound is heard and the camera tracks it as if our eyes would; it turns out to be a slight knock on the door echoed by Staff Manager Joe Bishop. The camera pans on the familiar face of Joe Bishop and follows it as he walks over to the unnamed figure in his office. 

Joe smiles at the unnamed figure. Then he extends his hand. The figure takes and shakes it. “Welcome to ACW, Jonathan Drachen. We’re glad that you are interested in the fed and are willing to work for such a…frugal…amount. As you know, times are not the best financially.” 

Jonathan smiles back and gestures the issue away. “Absolutely no problem. Being involved in ACW is the true pay of the job.” 

Bishop nods and begins to walk around his desk, as he is doing so, the camera catches him raising his eyebrows and shifting his glance as if to say Whatever. He opens a desk drawer and retrieves a sheet of paper covered in print. At the top, it reads “Drachen, Jonathan: Task List”. 

He looks at the paper for a moment, then hands it to Jonathan. “Well, sorry to cut the introduction short, but you do have tasks to complete seeing as how you’re now part of our “ring crew”, so to speak. Here’s your list, have the first 14 finished 30 minutes before the camera goes on. This is absolutely urgent. We’re forgoing the usual training for you since you’ve been involved in federations before. We expect perfection, Mr. Drachen. This isn’t RUSH. This is AC-Friggin-W. Understand?” 

Jonathan takes the task list and his only reply is a smile and nod. 

Bishop is somewhat surprised at the happiness showcased. “Ok, get right on it.” 

Jonathan smiles again and leaves the office, the camera only follows him slightly but then wheels back onto Bishop as he sits down in his desk chair. 

He scratches his chin for a moment in somewhat of a surprised and ponderous state. 

Bishop is perplexed. “Thing I can’t figure out is, why didn’t this kid come to wrestle for us? I’ve seen him go in the ring, and I was impressed. Them RUSH types don’t usually do that for me. Hmm….” 

The scene fades as Bishop shrugs and then picks up some other paperwork that is lying in the “Urgent” tray on the corner of his desk.

Bored With a Capital B

"I canny believe that you got beat last week...bloody arse head."

Tam and Hamish sat in their dressing room, which they had to share with local talent who had put on a small show before the live TV broadcast. With no booking this week, TFS had been sitting in their locker rooms for the majority of the night, but it seemed that boredom had set in, as they had began to play eye-spy.

"Awrite," Tam said, as he scoured the room for something imaginative to use, as his eyes lit up as he watched one of the local boys change clothing...before he shook his head clean and smiled at Hamish.

"Mate...I spy with my little eye, something beginning with D!"

"Desk."

"Nope."

"Dressing Room 4 sign."

"Nope, but a good one that."

"OK...erm...D...D...D...ughhh...I cannae see anything. I give in."

"DANGLEBERRIES! Look at that guys arse over there!"

*SLAP*

"You mankey bastard!"

Arriving [Part II]



A long black limo pulls up outside of the arena in Milwaukee. The back door opens to see ‘Superstar’ Vince Jacobs stepping out of the limo as the fans in the arena witnessing this erupted in boos for SVJ. Vince grabbed his bag from the trunk and headed inside of the arena. Vince walked past a few wrestlers and ACW officials, as a lot of them did not care for Vince at all. 

Vince was never the one looking for accolades from people he knew he was better than, so when wrestlers or officials didn’t care for Vince it was no sweat off his brow. He walked into the arena as the same tech from earlier was greeting wrestlers to show them where their rooms were.

The tech had his back turned to Vince as he was talking to one of the newer wrestlers in the ACW. Vince tapped the tech on the shoulder. The tech turned around quickly to SVJ glaring at him with a smirk on his face.

“Hey kid, where is my room?” Vince said 

The tech gave the clipboard a once over and checked off Vince name on the clipboard before replying. “Down the hall to the left and it will be the sixth door on the right.”

Vince turned his nose up at the tech before leaving. “Thanks kid.”

Before SVJ could walk two steps in the direction of his dressing room the kid stopped him again.

“Mr. Jacobs, I forgot I had to tell you something.” the tech exclaimed

Vince stopped in his tracks and with a disgusted look on his face turned around to see what the young tech had to tell him. “Well what is it, I haven’t got all day. I have to prepare for my Main Event match with Alias tonight.”

“That’s what I had to tell you. Mr. Alias told me to tell you that he is looking for you.” the tech replied

Vince stroked his goatee as a sick smile came across his face. “Oh really… So where is Chris’ dressing room?”

“Down the hall to the right and it will be the fourth door on the left.” the tech said leaving Vince Jacobs to ponder why Chris wanted to see him before their big Submission Main Event Match tonight.

“This should be interesting.” Vince thought as he walked to his dressing room.

Touring

Finally, he had a chance to break away from the pack and tour the backstage on his own. No, this isn't a tourist we're talking about. This is Bobby Knickerson, folks. 19 years of age, whose dream was to become a janitor. He did that, and shortly after that, got pushed into the maniacal world of wrestling/fighting. And within the span of two months, Bob has found himself involved in two of the most upcoming promotions on the land.

thReat, then the All-Star Championship Wrestling.

The two months included a spot on the now-defunct IOW's last pay-per-view, Drastic Measures, as he sought some advice regarding his first wrestling match ever. Against a fellow janitor, no less. In any case, Bobby managed to triumph in the match, then get drawn into the seedy plans of the man who helped him win.

Vincent friggin' Pembridge.

Following that, all hell broke loose in Knickerson's life. His job as a janitor was pushed aside, and he was now being trained to become a fierce fighter, for the final battle of thReat's fate. In the end, Bobby failed miserably in his part and some might say that the self-proclaimed Phenomenon's elimination from the Showdown got the ball rolling for the exile of The Vagabonds from thReat.

Looking around him, Bobby Knickerson had hoped that ACW would be a fresh start. Since his life as a janitor was as good as over, seeing how he wasn't ever going back to thReat. Even before Bob got involved in the Vagabonds/Resistance war, owner Troy Mason had already seemed to not like him.

But as he walked past a vending machine with greasy handprints on it, Bobby sighed. He wanted his janitorial job back. Coming to the ACW, he was immediately thrown into yet another war. And again, Vincent Pembridge was at the epicentre of it all. Now, however, the Scorpion wished to develop Knickerson more. He wished to instill some direction into the boy's life, and make him someone to be really feared.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants, Bobby shook his head... wondering if he'd ever live a normal life. Okay, so maybe the janitorial dream was shortlived. If he was to depend on wrestling just to survive, he wanted to be involved in something normal. And not completely lethal, such as whatever Vincent P touched.

"Hey there!" a voice shouted out to Knickerson from down the hall.

Bobby turned around and squinted, struggling to see who it was. As the figure got closer, Bob realised that he had a friend, and both of them looked completely familiar. The men from whom he mooned earlier in the day? Not likely, those men were fat and balding. But finally, Knickerson got it right.

006.392 & Damnson, from Quinton's Army. The enemy camp, Bob had been told.

"Hiya! My eyesight's a bit cocked up, sorry about that!" Knickerson replied somewhat cheerily, trying to establish a groundwork of non-violence, although he was part of the group that declared the war on QA.

006 & Damnson looked at each other following Knickerson's response, and nodded. They knew why they were there, and they had to make sure that whatever they wanted to talk to Bob about... had to be done quickly.

"Bobby, we need to have a little talk. Sure, we're on the fucking opposite sides here, but seeing how you and me are in the same age demographic, I figure we can have a sensible discussion over chips and cheap beer. Oh, and Damnson brought along some porno magazines as well!"

Knickerson blinked, and looked at Damnson, who smiled and gave The Phenomenon the thumbs up.

"Okay, sure. What's it about?"

006.392 smiled. It was going to be easier than he thought.

"YOU."

Jason Kain Vs. Ron Williams

  

Ron looked up at the entryway as “Quick Death” played over the system. Jason Kain was nowhere to be seen. The lights blacked out as the orange and purple spotlights floated around the arena, then centered on the entryway… but nothing.

Suddenly the lights flashed back to life as Kain grabbed Ron Williams and chucked him into the turnbuckle.

This wasn’t for the fans.

Kain pushed him into the ropes, and started chocking him. Ron looked panicked, and so did the ref, trying to pull him away from Ron. Instead, Kain shoved the ref out of the ring.

This wasn’t for SilverHAWK and his cohorts.

Jason Kain locked on the Shocking Experience, choking Ron… who realized that this match was definitely NOT going as planned. The crowd stood in awe… but suddenly a pop came.

Osyrus.

Kain threw Williams out of the ring as well, egging Osyrus to step into the ring. Osyrus looked around then stopped at ringside, watching Ron slowly climb back into the ring. But Kain seemed to have grown a sixth sense, turning just in time to catch Ron’s clothesline and swing it into a full nelson. Osyrus looked at Kain shocked at the fact that Kain wanted a piece of him so badly. Kain dropped Ron with an Electric Slide, then stood up, glaring hard at Osyrus. Kain cursed at Osyrus, waving him into the ring. Finally Kain couldn’t take anymore… running toward the ropes, jumping over them and crashing into Osyrus with a flying clothesline. Kain started swinging wildly, but Osyrus pulled out from under him, and a fist fight erupted.

Ron laid in the ring, still unconscious as the ref slowly climbed in the ring from the other side. But Kain and Osyrus’s fight continued, spilling into the ring with lefts and rights. Osyrus grabbed Kain through the punches, and choke tossed him into a turnbuckle, following it up with lefts and rights. The ref put his hand up to call for the bell… but a voice came over the PA…

“DON’T YOU DARE CALL THIS MATCH!” SilverHAWK stepped out to the entry way.

Osyrus looked up at HAWK, sneering, then continued punching Kain… HAWK started toward the ring, but Osyrus continued laying into Kain. Suddenly Kain flipped the positions… blood streaming from his nose and lip. But now Osyrus was on the defense, as Kain leveled in with punch after punch… Osyrus’s looked shocked at the sudden burst of energy from Kain, but couldn’t do anything about it.

But suddenly the punches stopped.

Osyrus looked up, and saw SilverHAWK standing in the ring, pulling off his jacket revealing a referee’s shirt. Kain looked at him, and pulled back. HAWK grabbed Osyrus and threw him out of the ring, then looked at Kain and pointed at Ron Williams. Ron looked horrified… then jumped out of the ring and ran up the ramp. SilverHAWK grabbed a mic…

“Where do you think YOU’RE going?” HAWK looked up the ramp.

Ron turned around, a small fearful smile appearing on his face.

“Get your ass back in this ring right now.” HAWK pointed to the ring like a mother points her disobedient child to his room.

Ron shook his head, but HAWK was persistent. “This match WILL continue… even if I have to change it to a falls count anywhere match.”

Ron walked slowly back to the ring… but Osyrus stopped him, and gave him something. Ron smiled, and climbed into the ring, holding a picture. A picture of Jade. Kain exploded… Ron freaked… and Osyrus laughed.

Kain ripped the picture out of Ron’s hand, the trump card failed… And Kain? Well, Kain had just pulled an ace. Kain grabbed Ron Williams shoving him to the mat with an armbar… but quickly spun his other arm around his neck. The Shocking Experience was locked in again, and Ron tapped out. But Kain wouldn’t let go… Ron started screaming something, but HAWK didn’t oblige. Instead he grabbed a mic and put it in front of Ron’s face. Ron cried out…

“I QUIT!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!”

HAWK nodded to Kain, waved his arm, the bell rang, and Kain let go. HAWK smirked and looked at Osyrus, as Kain took the microphone from HAWK.

“It’s YOUR turn, Osy… YOUR TURN!” Kain looked at him, angrily.

Osyrus started backing up the ramp.

“From what I hear, GOD DOESN’T QUIT! At Glory, we’ll see if that statement is true! You… Me… I QUIT MATCH!” Kain screamed into the mic. “But I dare for you to say you’re a god, now. God DOESN’T SHOW FEAR! So, I’ll leaving you with nine words, Osy… NINE WORDS!!!”

The crowd explodes with a pop then waits for it…

“DO YOU THINK YOU HAVE A CHANCE!!?!?!?”

The crowd rumbles wildly, and sets up for the end of the phrase…

“DIDN’T THINK SO!!!”

He throws the mic to the mat, then tosses his arms to the air as the crowd goes wild, HAWK raises his arm as the ring announcer pipes up…

Winner: Jason Kain

Blocked [2]

The long matted dreadlocks of Gabriel So'ialu bobbed with the stride pattern of his sprinting motion. Their movement, hypnotic in their nature, followed the head of Gabriel So'ialu as he made his way down some back alleyway.

He stopped near a doorway, breathing heavily from his altercation with twenty or so youths earlier in the night… that coupled with the long run from the youths left Gabriel searching for an alternate entrance into the arena.

It was like a scene from the Matrix. Gabriel sending youths flying everywhere, only to be swarmed by more and more, like bees, they tried to paralyze Gabriel, inject their venom like only a scorpion could.

It was to no avail…

Angels feel no venom.

Gabriel began to viciously beat on the door, denting it with each an every fury released strike. But again... it was to no avail.

The Scorpion of Manchester had made sure that Gabriel could not get into the building tonight, and he had done a damn good job at it.

It would take a miracle to get him in there tonight…

Then again the Shadow Angel was sacrosanct… a miracle just could happen.

The heavens poured forth, releasing a certain amount of rain onto the already sweaty So'ialu. Was it a sign? Good or bad?

Gabriel shook his head as he ran off in search for another route inside the building. He HAD to get inside there, with the added bonus of now getting his hands on Vincent Pembridge.

He simply HAD to.

Unfolding According To Script

Vincent Pembridge laughed with delight, as he took another swig of his drink. Scotch whiskey, if you believe that. With his eyes glued to the television set, the Scorpion of Manchester was thrilled to see that his little plan had worked to perfection.

If So'ialu was gonna be underhanded & sneaky, Pembridge was obviously going to retaliate. And don't you know, he invented the term underhanded & sneaky?

Placing his bottle of scotch whiskey down on the table, Vince threw himself onto the couch in his locker-room and leaned back, smiling. Everything was unfolding according to script, and for the first time in quite a well, The British Army looked to end the night on a high note.

But as Vincent crossed his forearms, the wheels in his head ever turning, he began to regret the way the mission in thReat was handled. So close, yet so far. The opportunity to utilize the resources within the company had gone down the drain, which was a major loss. The Vagabonds was a complete failure, and it would have to be forgotten.

Suddenly, the Scorpion of Manchester stood up and looked around him, as if he sensed something was missing. Something crucial, something noticeable.

"Where the bloody hell is Knickerson?"

Vinnie P grabbed the bottle of scotch whiskey and gulped a bit of it down, before he stormed out of the room and whispered something to the two Brit teenagers that were standing guard at his door. They nodded, and quickly retreated inside the room, closing the door behind them.

Whilst the British Degenerate went in search of his heir apparent.

Welcome Back...To Hell [Part 2]

Charlie Dunn.

SilverHAWK.

Joe Bishop.

All sitting around a large oak desk.

All out of ideas.

"The numbers say it all fellas...we just can't keep spending money think this. Winters' ways haven't been changed due to all this FBI nonsense, but now we've gotta change the way we work and the way we're spending money."

"OK," Bishop said, as he looked to take the floor. "One of our main problems is our staff an roster, too many passengers is what I say, how about we make a list of guys who are minimal to requirements and we push them on?"

HAWK frowned.

"That's the one thing that we don't want to do, how about we see where the income is coming from first, and then we can work on the expenditure, make sure that we have a set amount of money first, and then work around that."

"Good idea...I'll get the documents," said Dunn.

"I'll get some notepads and calculators," claimed Bishop as he walked out the door.

"Well..." sighed HAWK," I'll get some coffee, this is gonna be a long fucking day."

The Time Has Come

In the ring Jade stood, with the crowd all around her, cheering and chanting her name. Jade loved every minute of it, but tonight she didn’t show it. She had something to say, and she wanted all to hear.

“In the last few weeks, we all know that I have had a pretty rough time. I was not only attacked by one, not even by TWO people, but I guess the third time’s a charm. Three people…” Jade held up three fingers, “…decided that they could put their grubby hands on me. I don’t really consider that slap by the whore-bag Isis a beating though, but we’ll add her into the mix, simply because I hate her guts.” The crowd cheered and booed at the same time.

“Now, I know I brought the Osyrus fight upon myself, but I still managed to walk away from it. I’m glad I came down to the ring that night, because I got to give him the finger, TWICE! Plus a few black eyes on the side!” Jade smiled at the memory.

“But that’s all irrelevant tonight. This isn’t about Isis, or Osyrus, this is about someone bigger…and I mean literally bigger!” Jade held her arms as far apart as she possibly could. The crowd laughed as she brought the microphone back up to her mouth. “Now, a few days ago, while I was walking around, minding my own business, a cinder block decided to jump off the pile and strike me in the back…why? Because Hillary Small, decided to help it there! Get this reasoning…she doesn’t like me, because I have a boyfriend, and fans…” the crowd laughed again and cheered harder.

“She’s jealous of me, and decided she wanted to attack me after just getting out of the hospital. Yeah, way to go you fuckin’ psycho! So, I made her eat my crutch!” Jade giggled slightly as the shot of her hitting Hillary across the face, played on the screen. Another shot of Hillary being taken away in a police car was shown right after, and Jade laughed again.

“Well, Hillary had to spend a few nights in jail for that little stunt…and me? I plead self-defense, since it pretty much was…”

Jade was about to continue when the mammoth Hillary Small stepped out on the ramp. She looked livid. Jade smirked at her as she stormed half way down the ramp, glaring at the still-injured Jade, who stood in the ring.

“You think you’re so smart don’t you, you little bitch? Well, you’re not!” Hillary pointed at Jade.

“How was your night in jail…did anyone make you their bitch?” Jade laughed. 

“I should come in that ring and kick the shit out of you again…it would be worth it.” Hillary began to advance on the ring again, but suddenly a voice boomed over the P.A. system and she stopped.

“I WOULDN’T DO THAT IF I WERE YOU!” SilverHAWK stepped out on the ramp armed with a microphone and six security guards.

Hillary turned around to look up at him. Jade also stopped, stunned.

“Hillary Small, you are under a contract with ACW that declares you must not touch one, JADE GREENE unless in a match scheduled by ACW!! If you breach this contract, you will be sent directly back to jail! ACW only bailed you out under the conditions stated above, and right at this moment you are breaking this contract, because you aren’t to be within a hundred feet of Jade…” Hawk folded his arms across his chest as the security guards walked down the ramp a few steps. 

Jade began to laugh and bent over to catch her breath.

“Jade, you think this is so funny? Well, you shouldn’t be laughing…” Jade stopped and looked up at him curious.

“You are not cleared to wrestle, and haven’t been cleared by the ACW doctor who attended to your wounds last week. Which means, you are not to wrestle either. If either of you touch each other, it means you are both in breach of your contracts, and will be fined and suspended!!”

Jade threw the microphone across the ring and it flew out the other side, almost hitting a stagehand who was sitting in a chair.

Hillary folded her arms and glared at SilverHAWK. She spat on the floor and shook her head in disgust. Both of them were furious.

SilverHAWK turned to leave but stopped. He turned back around and looked down at the two of them and smiled. Bringing the microphone up to his lips he smiled again. “I can see that the two of you don’t like my decisions very much. Well, you know that I’m all about you people, so here’s the deal…Next week, you gals can have your match! You decided the rules, or if there will be any at all…but until then, if you even TOUCH each other by brushing each other in the hallways, you’ll be fined and suspended…you got me?”

Jade and Hillary both smiled and nodded. Hawk left the ringside area, with his security guards following behind him.

It was done. Jade and Hillary were getting their match, and it was all going to happen next week.

.vindication Vs. The Kole Brothers

  

This was the big one, as far as Joey Kole & Andi Kole were concerned.

For majority of the crowd, this match signalled nothing more than a forthcoming of extreme pain, seeing how the theme song for the odd couple was a bleedin' Geri Halliwell song. But to the surprise of everyone, the song that had started to blare over the speakers was "Clocks" by Coldplay.

.... Not the greatest song in the world, but definitely better than "Look At Me" by Geri Halliwell, innit?

Joey & Andi came down the ramp, to yet another mixed response, which was slightly more positive. Meaning more cheers than jeers. Didn't matter much to both men, as they laid eyes on the ring. Only the second time in their short ACW careers would they take their place in the ring.

The first time, they almost got slaughtered by Liam.

Andi was wearing a white t-shirt with white trunks in the form of shorts that had red embroidery on it and black boots, whilst Joey donned a purplish sleeveless tanktop and the same type of white shorts-type trunks with red lining... along with black boots as well. Sliding into the ring, the two brothers did their now-infamous pose.

Which was basically acting like hardcore gangsters from da hood, waiting to sell drugs to old ladies.

.... Oh, has it mentioned? Joey has been accused for sexually harassing old ladies.

....

The lights suddenly went out, and the theme music that belonged to the brothers was cut abruptly. Everybody knew what was coming, and the mindless hissing began already. Amazing how much hate can be mustered for two men in the space of two or three weeks, eh?

But they were in for a surprise, when "6 Hard Months" by Marilyn Manson began to play over the system. Normally, the lights would come back on and Liam would be in the ring already, with Drake coming out from somewhere else. This time, the two men came out as per normal, from the back... and took their own time strolling down the ramp, as the jeering was brought up a notch.

..vindication, ladies and gentlemen.

Nefarian was wearing a white sleeveless tanktop with blue jeans and black shoes. Liam was wearing a short-sleeved blue shirt that was unbuttoned, black pants that were slightly baggish, and black court shoes. And as they reached the bottom of the ramp, the lights slowly returned.

Revealing a cold stare directed at the two men working for The British Army, from Andi & Joey Kole.

No love lost here, people.

* DING DING DING *

The bell rang, as .vindication's theme song was faded out. And with a fleeting glance at each other, which seemed to indicate that both men were so on the same page, Liam & Nefarian slid into the ring, the battle underway. Joey & Andi sprinted out of the corners they backed themselves into the second the lights went out.

And thus, it was on.

Andi went straight for Liam, throwing a punch at him. Joey, on the other hand, charged at Nefarian... looking to take him out with a spear. Unfortunately for those who were fans of The Kole Brothers, Liam & Nefarian managed to evade their respective attackers' offense.

Liam blocked the punch and viciously headbutted Andi back down to the mat, while Nefarian sidestepped to the left... but at the same time, raised his right leg up and rammed his shin into Joey's face, turning the latter inside out. Just like that, the younger brother of the team had his mouth cut open.

He got to his feet almost immediately though, and staggered right into the path of a massive cross hook from Nefarian, sending Joey flying into one of the four corners of the ring.

Liam, meanwhile, at been stomping away at Andi's abdominals... and as he pulled the youngster up by the collar of his t-shirt, Andi drove his fist directly upwards. Into the Irishman's chest. It hardly fazed Liam, however, who drove his right knee into Andi's gut and followed up with a fantastic forearm smash... that sent Andi tumbling out of the ring.

Which was good news for the referee, who had trying to instill some semblance of order ever since the bell rang. Liam had retreated -- somewhat unwillingly -- to .vindication's corner, while Andi Kole picked himself up and pulled himself onto the apron, right near the corner assigned to him and his brother.

Speaking of whom; Joey was getting his ass kicked. It was as simple as that. A flurry of punches, executed half-heartedly even, were being delivered to his body and face. The cut on his lips got inflamed because of this. Andi screamed at Joey to at least defend or fight back... but no such luck.

However, as Drake attempted to whip Joey into the diagonally opposite corner, the latter actually managed to reverse it, sending the former boxer crashing face-first into the turnbuckle. As he staggered out of there and turned around, Drake was subjected to an overhead arm drag from Joey Kole. A truly unique move, drawing several frenzied cheers from the crowd. They grew as Joey impressively kick flipped his way back to his feet, and executed a jumping high-leg clothesline, to knock back down the recovering Drake Nefarian.

Liam frowned and slammed his left fist against the top of the turnbuckle, not liking how this was turning out.

Andi, on the other hand, yelled out delightedly, and clapped to spur his brother on.

The younger brother of the tandem picked Nefarian up and slugged him across the face with a right hook, before whipping him into the ropes. It was about this time that Liam decided to shift a little bit to his right, and as Drake's back made contact with the ropes, Liam raised his feet, touching his partner's back ever so gently.

Blind tag, baby. Everybody but the referee saw it, courtesy of the Tron.

The hired hitman for The British Army managed to duck the clothesline and used his momentum to take himself into the opposite set of ropes. Joey turned around a split second before the smiling Liam entered the ring, and lowered his head, in hopes of maybe connecting with a back body-drop.

Drake stopped himself in his tracks and let loose with a heinous kick to JK's face, a move that sent him staggering into Liam's path.

Andi had already began to protest the Irishman's presence in the ring, but it was cut short when Drake scooted over, knocking him off the apron and down to the ground. Pretty huge jeers erupted, as Drake decided to follow up on that unprovoked attack, by joining Andi on the ground.

In the ring, meanwhile, Liam had just wrapped his hand around Joey's throat.

And, well, this is standard stuff.

CHOKESLAM~~!!

"LIAM SUCKS!!"
"LIAM SUCKS!!"
"LIAM SUCKS!!"
"LIAM SUCKS!!"

He simply shrugged it off, and made one of the most arrogant covers ever, by placing his foot atop Joey Kole's chest;

ONE...

TWO...

THREE!

Just like that, the match had came to an end. The voice of utter disdain hung heavily in the air, coupled with frenzied hissing and extreme cursing. Liam had won the battle for .vindication, but things were far from over. That was evident when Liam charged forward, knocked the referee out.

And then turning back to pick Joey Kole up, wrapping his hand around the youngster's throat again.

"Payback, eh? You haven't seen anything yet..." the Irishman whispered to Joey bitterly. Before completely knocking him out with yet another chokeslam, delivered with more ablomp and gusto this time 'round.

On the outside, Nefarian was wielding a steel chair, towering over Andi...

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

And with those five shots, Andi Kole joined his brother in la-la land.

Now, you'd think Liam & Drake Nefarian would stop there, right? The victory had been obtained, KOing the brothers had been achieved with relative ease... what more would there have to be accomplished? Right? RIGHT? Well, you're wrong.

The team known as .vindication, to much shock from the crowd, began dragging the limp bodies of Joey & Andi Kole up the ramp and towards the back, as Marilyn Manson's "6 Hard Months" began blaring over the speakers yet again. All the time, neither Liam or Drake spoke, much less looked at each other.

This truly was vindictive.

Winner: .vindication

Blocked [3]

“How the hell am I going to get in there?”

Gabriel moved in a virulent circle.

“Damn Scorpion, I’m going to rip his head off.”

…

“He won’t even know what hit him.”

…

“Cheating Englishman…”

…

“Fuck it!”

[Ring-Ring]

Gabriel turned his head towards a nearby bin, and out of curiosity, began to rummage through it, pulling out an old Nokia cellphone. He looked at it, and pressed the 'ACCEPT CALL' button, before placing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” Gabriel answered uncertainty clinging to his voice.

“Go round the arena to the third door marked, X2!”

…

“Who is this?” Gabriel enquired.

…

“No time, just go now.”

…

“Okay…” Gabriel began to pick up speed.

…

“Two more doors left…”

…

“How’d you know that?”

…

“Just go…”

Gabriel arrived at the door, which was surprisingly ajar.

“Hey… how did you…”

…

“…”

The caller went silent.

“What the fuck ever, man…” Gabriel cursed as he dropped the cellphone on the floor, and entered the arena. Finally, to his relief, he was inside.

But not without the help of some mystery caller.

The camera zoomed in to the cellphone display:

Last Caller: Knickerson.

FUCK!

"Ladies and Gentlemen, could I please have your attention." 

The fans turned their undivided attention to the raspy voice and frame of the ex-World Champion turned Commissioner, as he began to speak in the middle of the ring. 

He looked down at the table placed neatly in the center of the ring. From the looks of things, the fans could understand that the next event scheduled had nothing to do with a match-up, and therefore some actually divided up their attention from SilverHAWK and to purchasing a bud instead of listening to the endless verbal rants. 

Of course, SilverHAWK continued. 

"The following is to be strictly enforced by security standing at ring-side, along with the slapping of a hefty fine if either men are to touch each other before or after this contract is signed. First, I would like to bring out the challenger to the United States Championship, the man who will go into Glory with everything to gain, the Hellraiser himself, Dante Inferno!" 

"I Stand Alone" rumbled through the arena as the huge Inferno pushed past the curtain to an ovation from the crowd, something of which he still wasn't too used to. As he walked down to the ring, he knew that he wanted to get this over and done with quickly, as talking wasn't his strong point, it was busting ass. 

SilverHAWK would often ask for a handshake, but as Inferno passed him by, it was obvious that past meeting still put a damper on their relationship. 

"And next!" 

Immediately, the lights in the arena halted from receiving electricity to keep its power on. Slow, but powerful footsteps were heard through the arena. 

STEP


STEP


STEP


BOOOOOMMM!!!

Huge pyrotechnics burst threw the stage as "Patiently Waiting" played through the arena P.A, courtesy of 50 Cent. A*Dubbs walked through the side curtain with authority, making sure his presence was felt. And by the fans heat, he knew he had accomplished the task. Walking to the ring with a purpose, A*Dubbs let his title flap in the air with the top seemingly attached to his left hand. Sliding through the front side of the ring, Allen started for a handshake with the co-owner of the Company, but quickly pulled back as soon as SilverHAWK showed the respectful deed of outstretching his arm, to the fans disgust. 

Rising onto the middle turnbuckle, A*Dubbs showed off his belt to the fans, talking shit at almost a mile a minute. Taking an exit from the electricity he felt whenever he would rile up the crowd, A*Dubbs entered the path to Dante's rage. 

SilverHAWK sensed the tension, for that fact so did the entire crowd, as well as the security, as they were now standing in front of the two men. 

"Gentlemen, let's get this underway. If you would take your seats."

Both men were hesitant.

"Lemme give you both a reminder as to how this goes. No touching each other. You will play nice. We sign this thing, and then we're out of here. I got numbers to sort out and in my mind this is a formality, so let's get it over with. 

Now sit down!" 

Both men slowly sat, as the 'signing' got underway. 

"This match is for the Undisputed ACW United States Championship, in which is the only Championship with an owner at the moment. The bout is scheduled for No Disqualification, as well as no time limit.

Dante, being that you are the challenger, you are first up." 

The statement seemingly went through Dante's ears, as he did not take either eye off of the man he would face for the United States Championship. Taking a pen without releasing his current sight, and without any signed the contract, to the fans utmost delight, as well as SilverHAWK's, he even cracked a slight smile despite all the grief going on in his business activities. 

"Great. Now, A*Dubbs, you're next." 

At this point, A*Dubbs was in the exact state of mind as Inferno. Both men stared the other down, trying hard not to break their concentration with HAWK's demands. They hated each other to a tee, and the hatred only escalated as they sat in the ring. 

A*Dubbs however, was too cool to keep the small grudge he had in the stare down going. He cracked a smile, and stood up. 

"Well." 

A*Dubbs stated, after stealing the microphone from SilverHAWK's hands. 

"Look who the fuck it is. I would think after I laid that ass out last week, you would realize that you can't fuckin hang. Ya know, I may be a stupid mafucka, but dayum, I didn't think you had THAT much shit for brains, c'mon now D!" 

Allen ate up every second of the crowds desperate attempts to get to him. Dante, however, ignored the fans for a different reason. 

"I told you day in and day out. I beat yo ass day in and day out, and dayum nucka, you must not be getting enough. You need something that is going to fucking tell you my message, Caucasian." 

Dubbs got into the face of Inferno, with only green paper restricting him from tearing Allen's face to shreds. 

"I AIN'T PLAYIN!." 

With a lead pipe from the back of the ring came 108192, and as slowly as Dubbs got his 'message' across, 108 did the exact opposite in giving Dante warning of his arrival. Security were quick to get the young man from the offensive onto Dante's body, but they left one man un-guarded, as Dubbs jumped onto the top rope, and jumped off, executing one of the tallest Pimp Juices the ACW audience had witnessed. Dante laid lifeless on the floor, as Dubbs warned security to back the fuck away. 

Dubbs signed the paper, before throwing up his hands in an innocent type of manner, grabbing his belt as he left the ring.

It wasn't until Dubbs had reached the top of the stage before life had begun to stir in the body of Dante Inferno, and with that, came SilverHAWK's voice.

"Hold up, hold it Dubbs, I think Dante wants your attention for a few more minutes, if that is of course okay with you." 

SilverHAWK handed the microphone to a slow-moving Dante Inferno. HAWK couldn't help but reveal the huge smile on his face. Dubbs saw this expression of joy, and began to question the possible motives for it. 

'What the fuck is that white boy smiling about? He ain't touch me did he? 

Did he get on with a family member of mine? Hell naw, cuz that would be his prollum if he did..

Did he just touch me in that ring? Nah, I'm still in tact..

Did he do something with the contract....WHAT THE..'

"Hey Dubbs!" Dante's voice gave way for Dubbs to look up and right into the face of his newfound ACW Glory opponent. 

"I always knew that you were scared of me...that's why you attack every male from the back, isn't that right?" 

Dubbs talked a mile a minute, shoving his belt in the air showing Dante what he didn't have.

"At Glory...I'm going to take your dignity.

Your body and soul.

And your FUCKING title! And at Glory, I take all three!" 

The crowd exploded at the thought of the current Champion dethroned. 

"But I never knew you'd be stupid enough to not read a contract...because I had HAWK here add a little stipulation to the match. Maybe you should go and ask Jason Kain what it's like being with me in a..."

The fans went crazy in anticipation as A*Dubbs looked at Inferno like he was the scum of the earth, still talking shit as Dante paused.

"CAGE!" 

"ACW!" 

"ACW!"

"ACW!"

The crowd chanted as "I Stand Alone" played once again, with Dubbs jaw moving uncontrollably shouting random slurs and spit flying from his mouth as he did so. 

One slur we all could imagine him saying though, was a common, imaginable slur when you feel you have been screwed beyond belief.

"FUCK!" 

Welcome Back...To Hell [Part 3]

"Bishop that's wrong!"

HAWK ripped the piece of paper from his pad and crushed it to a ball before launching it half way across the room as he had just arrived back from the chaotic signing. It seemed that the trio were having real problems figuring out where the money was coming from, and just how they were going to spend it.

"Guys...guys...let's do a personnel check."

Both HAWK and Bishop nodded in agreeance as Dunn took a folder out and began to list names.

"OK, I know the guys who we need to stay, but here are the maybes, and the new guys that we got on the cheap. Gabriel So'ialu?"

"Keep. He's 6'6'' with a good gimmick, we can work on his in-ring presence and hopefully that'll bring up his draw value."

"The Flying Scotsmen?"

"I'll take this one HAWK. They're a team with some good moves, and their gimmick if done right could be golden for the company. The tag team division is about to go into the beta stages as we see how the crowd react to the matches off TV, and then we'll see what we can do with the rest of them. So keep."

"Ron Williams?"

HAWK sighed...

"He's...not proving himself in my opinion. He's gotta go."

As Dunn struck off Williams name, the trio kept talking, as they rattled down the list of ACW employee's whom were no longer needed in the company, as they tried to cut costs.

Who ever said this was an easy job?

Arriving [Part III]



Alias was walking all around the arena looking for Vince Jacobs but couldn’t find him. He knew the tech told Vince that he was looking for him. He thought to himself that Vince must be hiding from him or Vince would come from behind him and sneak attack him. 

It was Main Event time and Alias didn’t get his chance to see SVJ. Alias didn’t care because he knew in a few minutes he would step through that curtain and see Vince Jacobs eye to eye in the middle of the ring.

Alias did a few last minute stretches as he walked to the entrance of the stage. This was it, SVJ and Alias one more time.

Alias music hit as Vince Jacobs looks at the entrance way to see Alias going to the ring. Vince smiled because it was game time.

Payback, Eh? You Haven't Seen Anything Yet...

So, there they were. The scourge of the ACW. Well, on their way to achieving that status, at least. Liam & Drake Nefarian, together, formed a team which was shrouded in mystery quite a lot. Apparently, there is a backstory to how these two men came to be .vindication but only a few people know about that.

The rest... have to live with dealing with them.

At the moment, Liam & Nefarian were showing Joey Kole & Andi Kole just what payback really was, as they dragged their limp bodies down the hallway and towards the car park. WAVE 1 of the British Army were quite a distance back, making sure that no officials decided to act brave and stop what was happening.

However, on this occasion, officials weren't the saviors of the day. As Liam kicked open the doors of the car park, throwing Joey into the confines of the parking lot, El Janitors came charging out of nowhere, knocking the Irishman down to the ground. Nefarian was surprised to see what was going on as he appeared, dragging Andi behind him.

The former boxer was even more shocked when Howard clocked him across the face, and the impromptu fight began. At the moment, it looked as if El Janitors had the upper hand, all thanks to the element of surprise. But as always, when Liam is around, you can expect some other people to be not far behind.

And as aforementioned, WAVE 1 came storming into the car park, after having made sure that no backstage officials would dare of getting in TBA's way. Morris & Howard didn't seem daunted by the fact that they were suddenly outnumbered, however, and began to bring it up a notch.

It was breathtaking to see. Two men, past the primes of their lives, showing some youngsters just exactly how to fight.

With the appearance of the British teens, though, Liam & Drake were left unattended. Realising the glorious chance presented to them, the team called .vindication quickly arose to their feet and grabbed hold of the still-unconscious Kole Brothers, dragging them towards a black van not to far away. Nefarian pulled out the keys to the van from his pocket and quickly opened the back.

Allowing Liam to toss Joey & Andi inside, before slamming the doors shut, grinning sadistically the whole time.

Morris noticed this, and decided to break away from the brawl he & Howard were involved in... but it was impossible to do so. Especially seeing how WAVE 3 of The British Army suddenly joined their friends in the fight, making it 20 versus 2. Not the greatest odds in the world, but there was nothing the two janitors could do about it.

Meanwhile, Liam & Drake made their getaway in the van, with The Kole Brothers as their captives...

Wrong Bloody Day

“How the bloody hell is he in here? Sodding hell… you’d think the cunt would learn to quit. Bleeding cunt he is, I’m going to feck him up so bad... he's going to get a bloody bloodbath soon enough.”

The Scorpion was seated in his locker-room, furious, that Gabriel So'ialu had somehow managed to get into the arena, despite all the hindrance in the form of the Brit teenagers. Something must have gone terribly wrong, he thought. Now, with the rest of his troops either already out of the arena or in the process of doing so, it was as good a time to follow suit, since there was no reason sitting about in his locker-room.

The main event wasn't worth staying behind for.

“Yo! Scorpion!”

Vincent spun his head around to see the figures of Damnson and 006.392 charging into his room, as they kicked down the door, having obviously taken care of Vincent's guards. And with grins on their faces, 006.392 & Damnson looked ready to get their hands dirty.

“Wrong day, lads... wrong fecking day.”

Vincent jumped to his feet, meeting the oncoming Damnson with a knife-edge chop to the throat that sent him stumbling to the ground. 006.392 kicked Vincent square in the gut, but it had little to no effect on the Scorpion, as he retaliated with a forearm smash, before unleashing an overhead suplex-esque move, sending 006.392 flying into a wall.

With his rage seeming out of control, Vincent started to goad Damnson up, and as the latter stood, the Scorpion kicked him in the gut, before dropping him through the glass coffee-table with a cross-powerbomb. Damnson’s crimson-stained carcass lay motionless as shards of glass littered the floor.

Pembridge turned to his left, and his fury-ridden eyes were locked on the so-called YOUTH OF THE NATION.

“You’re next, cunt!”

The Scorpion, perturbed by Gabriel So’ialu's ability to sneak into the arena despite all the odds, picked 006.392 up and launched him through a nearby table with a gorilla slam, sending splinters flying everywhere. The night had ended bitterly for the British Degenerate, and he was venting the best way possible.

Kicking some intruding arses.

Vincent stood tall, looking down at his foes, breathing heavily. He would have normally smiled after a mauling such as this, but he just wasn't in the mood anymore. Fact of the matter was, Gabriel So'ialu was in the building, and hunting him down now. That didn't bode too well for Pembridge.

The Scorpion had to make his getaway, now.

“Just the wrong bloody day, lads.”

And then, he left, hastily. Scared? Hardly...

But we'll never know the truth, innit?

Welcome Back...To Hell [Part 4]

The room was awash with paper work and broken coffee cups as the makeshift ACW office has SilverHAWK flicking through a folder of paperwork as Joe Bishop had written all the staff on the payroll on a huge board, before knocking and scoring some of the names off and calculating some of the money that they were saving.

The budget had been brought down as a whole, but it had come at a cost.

It had come at the cost of firing a few personelle, including Ron Williams and now it had cost John Stern and Fonzi Barthello their jobs, as it had been seen that they were surplus to requirements, but, both of them had been guaranteed a job when ACW had got back on it's knees.

"You know something HAWK," Bishop stated, "even though it might be potentially bad for business...I like ICU's quitting last week has actually helped ACW a helluva lot, because he was one of the top earners."

HAWK nodded.

"Yeah...Winters really went mad with these contracts, just glad that we could talk to most of them and organize new deals, but I think me and you will have to talk about contracts also, or else I think it'll be me and you who are fired next."

SilverHAWK turned the page on the folder as his face lit up.

"Finally...the trustee and shareholder money...oh Joe, we've got money from the shareholders, just wait till I find the amount..."

"Don't bother."

HAWK and Bishop looked up as Dunn flipped his phone closed and rubbed his temple.

"What you talking about Dunn?"

"I just got a call from the lead board member of the shareholders...they want their dividends and they are gonna pull out."

"How many of them?" Bishop asked, as he closed the lid on his marker pen.

"All of them."

Submission Match
'Superstar' Vince Jacobs Vs. Alias

  

Emotions have been burning… blood has been boiling… because the past comes back to haunt us all… the question is, is this it?

Not by a long shot but we’ll have to see where the glass ceiling stands afterwards. Eh?

“Ring Superstar”

The Superstar… Vince Jacobs.

The crowd rained done a shower of boos on the man who just four weeks ago made his return at Pain or Pleasure. Vince stopped at the end of the ramp and screamed out at the crowd, who then returned the jeers in kind. He finally rolled in the ring before flipping the bird out in a miscellaneous direction.

“Faint”

Jacobs entire body tighten up and a sneer swept across his face. It could only be one man and the crowd knew this, going ape-shit wild.

“The Original Pulp Hero” Alias… where was his mind set for this fight? Week after week Jacobs had chipped away at him mentally and now… now it was time to once again take Jacobs on head to head, it was the second round of Alias vs. Vince Jacobs. Alias had showed he wasn’t rusty last week in his spectacular match against 108192. Today was a very in important battle… in there never ending war. 

Alias, without warning, walked right up to Jacobs and just stared at him as his opponent glanced back. The Match was signaled to start as the two individuals stood there motionless. Then out of nowhere came Jacobs with a cheap shot to his fellow competitor’s face and followed that up with a flurry of knife edge chops that had Alias reeling.

A whip to the ropes and a beautifully executed back body drop later, Alias was in a little bit of trouble early in the contest… damn. Set on keeping Alias down, Jacobs put the boots to him. Then, helping him up, Jacobs whipped Alias to the ropes and telegraphed another back body drop which was apparent to his opponent who kicked him right in the face and came back with a few knife edge chops of his own. Just when it looked like momentum was about to transfer, a Alias clothesline attempted missed and it resulted in a running clothesline from Jacobs which knocked him down to the canvas.

Tension was building as Jacobs threw his opponent violently to the turnbuckle as he dropped down hard to the mat. Turnbuckle stomping followed as Alias attempted to pick himself up, but couldn’t. With the ball in Jacob’s court, he then assisted the Pulp Hero up and tried whipping him into the opposite corner, but Alias resisted. Another attempt was blocked by Alias and the third was reversed sending Jacobs front first into the corner. He back-pedaled as Alias followed the reversal up with a back suplex and a bridge.

Anyway to turn it into a submission was unsuccessful, but that didn’t stop him from maintaining his sudden shift in advantage. There Alias stood awaiting Jacobs in the middle of the ring and as Jacobs charged him, Alias executed a drop toe hold with a float over and front face lock.

With Jacobs in a vulnerable position, he tried to power out and eventually did by shoving Alias into the ropes. Hooking the top rope, Alias put on the brakes which infuriated his opponent as Jacobs went after him, but was thrown up and over onto the floor below.

Going after Jacobs, his plan backfired as the ‘Superstar’ dragged Alias outside of the ring and whipped him into the ring post. Mouthing off to a few Fans’ at ringside, the audience quickly responded to Jacobs with a chorus of boos. Later, Alias was brought back into the ring by Jacobs. The crowd cheered Alias on.

“A-LI-AS~!!” *clap… clap… clap, clap, clap*

“A-LI-AS~!!” *clap… clap… clap, clap, clap*

“A-LI-AS~!!” *clap… clap… clap, clap, clap*

“A-LI-AS~!!” *clap… clap… clap, clap, clap*

“A-LI-AS~!!” *clap… clap… clap, clap, clap*

Jacobs turned around and reached up, locking the Original Pulp Hero in a side headlock. Alias tried to shove Jacob's face away with his hands and pulled at his hair until the referee reprimanded him. Alias decided to push his enemy into the ropes, and then shot him off the other side. On the rebound, Alias reached over sideways and went for some sort of tilt-a-whirl maneuver, but being somewhat quicker then the battered Alias, Jacobs' able to go for his own move, an attempted tilt-a-whirl head scissor.

Alias is just as quick though, reacted in mid-stream using his pure strength advantage to stop the head scissor takeover and keep the challenger dangling in his arms. He lifted the 200+ pound midweight onto his shoulder for what looked to be an electric drop. Malone stalled for a bit to try to flip him over to face the opposite direction on his shoulders and to make sure that Jacobs was positioned correctly, his tray table locked in it's upright position and his seat belt fastened. Thing is, Jacobs decided to throw a few elbows to Alias's skull to disorient him because he wasn't exactly happy with the stewardess' service.

Jacobs twisted his body around to try a victory roll into hurracanrana, but Alias was able to shove Jacob's legs off his shoulder just as he flipped backwards for the 'rana motion. This sent Jacobs over and out into mid-air as Alias still held tight to his legs. SVJ hit the mat haaaard with an electrifying… Electric Chair Drop. This gave Alias his opening, and a definite advantage.

Alias charged with a clothesline, as Jacobs stumbled back to his feet but SVJ saw him coming as he looked up at the ACWtron and ducked his head to the side. Jacobs went to get into position to suplex Alias. Alias shrugged it off with a couple of well placed elbows to the side of Jacob's face before following that up with a swift kick to the midsection. With Jacob's wind knocked out, Alias picked up the superstar for a scoop slam, but was quickly reversed into a head scissor. Bested, Alias slid out underneath the bottom rope to regain himself.

The fans let out a few cheers to the show they just witnessed as Alias clutched his shoulder on the outside to regain himself. Jacobs held himself back for just a second until Alias was to one knee and then the Superstar rushed in and sent a hard knee right into the Pulp Hero’s solarplexes. Alias slowly fought up to his feet and then the two enemies traded punches back and forth. Left. Right. Left. Right. Seeing as they where in a stalemate… both men backed off.

Test of strength to restart the series, which both men seemed hesitant to enter. They does, much to SVJ’s dismay, as his arms are wrenched to the point that he’s is on his knees in front of one of his greatest enemies. Alias shrugged off the right side and started to focus on SVJ's left shoulder, hammering it with a few of his own forearms before lifting the Superstar up to his feet.

That's when Alias gave Jacobs a knife edge chop that would make Ric Flair smile, and caused the crowd in attendance to show their support to the nature boy with a 'Woo!' Jacobs clutched his chest with his free hand and could feel the blood rising to his surface. He let out a groan and a visual look of displeasure as Alias swatted his second hand away and let loose with another chop that resounded out in the echoing arena.

Alias went right back to the left shoulder joint, hammering with two forearm shots before lifting the arm up and wrenching it back down. This motion sent SVJ to the canvas back first, and Alias almost desperately dropped down to try locking in a fujiwara arm bar. Jacobs fought back though, tucking the arm closer to his shoulder so Alias didn't have the grasp to lock the hold in. SVJ then rolled onto his back to get away from Alias, but he just took this as an opportunity for a few choice knees into the ribs.

Once.

Twice. 

Thrice.

Jacobs quickly rolled away, before knipping up to his feet. Alias began circling Jacobs and waited for SVJ to charge him, which he did. Alias went for a hip toss, but Jacobs once again landed on his feet. Alias was waiting on this and attempted a swift boot to Jacobs ' midsection. This was caught by SVJ, who then decided to rake Alias's eyes while still holding onto his left leg. Jacobs looked at Alias and gave him a sadistic grin before swiftly kicking Alias's left knee.

He followed it up by another shot, and then dragon screw leg whipped Alias to the canvas. Alias grimaced as Jacobs kept his hold on Alias's leg. Jacobs slowly got to his feet and drug Alias up with him. A few more kicks to Alias's knee, and then another dragon screw, Alias was down on the canvas clutching his chronically injured knee and trying to fight showing his pain.

SVJ shrugged off Alias's work on his left shoulder before reaching down to pick the former Television champion up to his feet. SVJ's chest burned red from Alias's chops, and Jacobs had the urgent desire to pay him back. Alias limped to his feet before Jacobs threw his arms away from his chest and chopped him across his pecs. Alias doubled over, dropping to his knees from the shot and the pain he felt in his joints.

So SVJ decided to head up to the top rope for an aerial assault. Jacobs leapt with a double axe handle, but Alias recovered uncannily and caught him as he reached the mat and took him up and over with a belly-to-belly suplex. SVJ bounced in the ring upon impact and lands flat on his back. 

Alias recovered from all of the punishment he received in the match, finally getting his second wind and picked up SVJ before setting him up for a high-angle powerbomb. It connected, and Jacobs lay flat on his back, a rush of pain convulsing through his body. But Alias wasn't through yet and he pulled Fear right back up and smashed him with a second high-angle powerbomb. Alias took this advantage to go for his first major submission of the match.

Sharpshooter… locked in.

“WAKE THE DEVIL~!!!”

Jacobs scrapped and clawed his way towards the ropes… he just had to get there… he couldn’t and wouldn’t give in… but the paaaain. The fans cheered Alias on as the Original Pulp Hero gritted his teeth and leaned back. Letting out a moan of pain, still Jacobs grasped at the mat… and finally with all he could muster… he reached the bottom rope and clung onto it tightly.

Alias released the hold, lowered his head and raised his eyebrows at the referee, before sweeping his sweat flattened hair back. Alias pulled Jacobs onto his feet and shot him to the ropes. He was sent flying high into the air with a back body drop. He landed with thud on his back. Jacobs was pulling himself back up when Alias grabbed his head and hit a swinging neckbreaker.

The Fans were actively behind Alias, and were on the edges of their seats with each gain. The crowd response was even more enthusiastic when Alias sent kick after kick into Jacobs. But SVJ wasn't really in a position to complain about the Fans' lack of positive energy towards him. Alias brought Jacobs up and him sent hard into the corner. So hard, in fact, that he fell flat on his face. The Fans roared as Alias smiled. 

Alias had lifted SVJ onto the top turnbuckle and looked like he was going to go for The Big Fat Kill, a move that had put away 108192 just last week. The crowd wanted him to hit it. He had Jacobs all hooked up, but The Superstar' fought back with hard punches into his stomach. Alias stepped back down onto the middle turnbuckle.

SVJ stood up on the top turnbuckle, after knocking Alias loopy with a hard elbow smash to the head, and then attempted to powerbomb Alias. He had his head between his legs, and was all for lifting him up, but his shoulder wouldn't allow him. SVJ held his shoulder, as Alias leaned on the turnbuckles.

Deciding to go at this in a different direction SVJ was all for trying to DDT Alias off the top, but Alias had much different plans in mind. He went low on Jacobs, and powered him over his back. Back dropping him from the top rope. There was a loud thud when he landed and the crowd jumped in excitement. Alias then pulled himself up onto the top turnbuckle.

He was going to fly.

He leapt HIGH into the air and was coming down towards the body of The Superstar' with an elbow. He hit it flush! The crowd was jumping up and down. He pulled SVJ back up onto his feet. He sent him to the ropes and but Jacobs had slid underneath him.  

Jacobs grabbed Alias by his hair, much to the referee’s dismay. Jacobs spun Alias around with his hair as Jacobs immediately double under hooked him to his side. Jacobs let out a cry before trying to lift Alias up off the mat for what could only be presumed a vicious double underhook DDT.

Thing is, SVJ’s left arm gave out and Alias twisted out of the underhook and landed to the right of Jacobs. Immediately, Alias went behind Jacobs and placed his head underneath SVJ’s arm pit with a waist lock. Alias tried to lift Jacobs up twice but Jacobs blocked it each time as pain shot through Alias’s shoulder and knee, before Alias caught Jacobs with a shot to his shoulder. Jacobs forgot all about blocking the move, and Alias used this to his advantage, blocking out his own mind-numbing pain and German suplexing Vince Jacobs down to the mat.

SVJ landed with a thud and relief that the pain would be over, but that wouldn’t be the case. He looked down and saw that Alias’s hands were still hooked, and let out a sigh as he was picked back up off the mat. Another German from Alias and Jacobs landed hard on the back of his neck, immediately using his healthy hand to check the damage. Malone wasn’t finished, still locking his hands and delivered the third vicious suplex in a row.

Alias looked to stand up again while holding Jacobs but both his shoulder and knee finally gave completely, and they both collapsed on the canvas. Alias favored his leg and arm still as Jacobs did the same with his shoulder, and his most recent concussion from the consecutive suplexes. It may not be a concussion in actuality, but you try telling that to Jacobs at this stage of the match up? I didn’t think so.

Neither man moved much except for Jacobs throwing his leg up into the air and slamming it down into the mat repeatedly. Whether he knew he was doing this was truly anyone’s guess. Both men slowly began to finally make it to there feet using the ropes on opposite sides of the ring. Jacobs made up just a second sooner, and seeing Alias leaning on the opposite ropes, he rushed towards him with a hard clothesline.  

Alias turned around just in time and caught one of SVJ's arms underneath his armpit. Jacobs swung the other and Alias caught that as well. The repetition of headbutt after mind numbing headbutt had Jacob’s out on his feet. Alias released the Superstar’s arms and Jacob’s hit the ground.

Alias dragged Jacobs to the center of the ring and then brought him to his feet and lifted him over his shoulder. He spun around in the air before slamming SVJ back-first into his good knee with an awesome spinning backbreaker, he then stretched SVJ out over his knee to further weaken him.

After a good twenty seconds of lying across the bent knee of the Original Pulp Hero finally let the self proclaimed reason there is a show drop to the canvas. He stood up and placed his foot on the bridge of SVJ's nose and dug it in furiously. SVJ's body convulsed in pain. He rolled onto his stomach, hiding his face and Alias dropped a jabbing knee drop to his back. Alias grabbed him by the left arm and left leg and dragged him to the corner.

 He pushed himself to the second turnbuckle and came off with an old school Bret Hart-like front elbow drop to the lower back. Jacobs tried to bury his face in the canvas, groaning through the pain.

Alias goes to pick up Jacobs from the corner only for SVJ to gouge him in the eye’s before grabbing him by the head and ramming it violently into the middle turnbuckle. SVJ double-leg-trips Alias and rolls into a jackknife chinlock as blood gushes from the face’s of both men and marks the canvas mat. Alias, elevated, clawed thin air trying to find a way out of his very painful predicament.

Finally as his mind cleared up for just a second he stretched out his air and grabbed onto the middle rope. Angrily, Jacobs released the submission and Alias pulled himself slowly to his feet, still using the middle rope. Soon enough both men where back on there feet. Jacobs rushed in towards Alias with a head full of steam… but somehow Alias once again pulled off a miracle to keep him alive. Clutching SVJ’s arm in a half full nelson he sent his despised foe up and over with a thunderous suplex.

Pulped.

As the adrenaline rushed through his body… Alias knew he had to end it or his body would just give up on him. He ran towards the ropes adjacent to where SVJ lay and then pinballing off of them he leapt from the middle rope and flew towards Jacobs.

However, it all changed in the blink of a moment.

Jacobs, playing possum, grabbed a chair that had been laid up against the side of the ring, and smiled, before blasting Alias in the back of the head with it, making him fall in midair straight to the mat. SVJ stood straight up, and lifted up Alias as the fans in attendance booed the hell out of Vince for using, what many don’t remember as the same chair shot move that Steve Douglas had used nearly six years earlier on Kenny Rock to retain his CWL Championship. Ain’t it just kooky how things are all somehow connected?

“There’s no DQs you little bitch… so step back!” SVJ screamed at the referee. He crouched down to Alias who lay semi-conscious on the ground. “I told you Chris… but you just didn’t get. The past WILL come back to haunt you… and end your fucking career!”

Vince Jacobs grabbed Alias’s injured arm and locked it forcefully into a Fujiwara armbar.

Alias gritted his teeth… gritted his teeth… then all was black as he finally passed out from the mounting pain in his head and on his shoulder. The ref, fearful of a now snapped SVJ, crept towards the fuming Superstar and lifted Alias’s hand only for it to drop…

One time.

Two times.

The crowd cheered on there hero to wake up… to shoot back to life.

“A-LI-AS~!!” *clap… clap… clap, clap, clap*

“A-LI-AS~!!” *clap… clap… clap, clap, clap*

“A-LI-AS~!!” *clap… clap… clap, clap, clap*

“A-LI-AS~!!” *clap… clap… clap, clap, clap*

“A-LI-AS~!!” *clap… clap… clap, clap, clap*

Finally it had dropped for the third time.

SVJ threw down the limp body of the Original Pulp Hero as the referee finally called for the bell, signaling the end to the chaotic main event. Jacobs rolled from the ring laughing manically as in his mind he was finally victorious over his long time enemy… or was he? In the submission match that Vince Jacobs himself had set up… Alias had never submitted. None the less SVJ walked slowly up the ramp exhausted, bloodied… but victorious in this latest battle. All things would be cleared up next week no doubt… however the June 15th edition of Courage went off the air with the stadium shaking from thunderous jeers from the crowd…

And “Ring Superstar” pumping through the PA system…

After a match that proved without a shadow of a doubt, that this war would never end.

Winner: Vince Jacobs