- - [June 22nd 2003] - -
Broadcasting LIVE! from Milwaukee, Wisconsin at 10/9 p.m. CT

PREVIOUSLY... Last weeks show was filled with surprises; Charlie Dunn returning to help with the financial troubles, no news on the vacant World title and now the news that the ACW investors, are threading to pull their funds. Now as ACW travels to Wisconsin, the wrestling world concentrates on other areas as the lack of interest in the company lowers by the week...and it's now up to the Guardians and Dunn...to save ACW.

Meet-And-Greet Part One

Dunn was never a man to walk around wearing a flashy suit, but today, he had to make an impression. As one half of the ACW Owners, he was partaking in a meet-and-greet session during Courage, as he had invited all 5 of the investors to the show, mainly to convince them not to pull their funding.

Dunn positioned himself at the arena's backstage entrance as a long stretch limousine showed up right on time, and Dunn, being the mild gentleman that he was, opened the door for the gentlemen. 

They were your usual businessmen.

Balding, slightly overweight and three of the five had cigars packed in their top pocket. Dunn shook their hands as they moved from the limo to the arena, as he then followed the group into the arena, where one of the female staffers took them upstairs to a private suite that Dunn and HAWK had been making up for them since they had arrived at the arena.

As the group headed upstairs, SilverHAWK placed a hand on Dunn's shoulder as the ACW Owner jumped a little in fright.

"Listen Dunn...just be yourself, and talk them out of it, all you have to do is tell them what they want to hear which is the positives. If you brag on about debt or how things aren't working, they'll think the worst..."

SilverHAWK looked on as Dunn went off to follow the investors up the stairs, and as the former ACW Champion looked on, he couldn't help but think that he had seen one of their faces' before, but being HAWK, he shrugged it off, he had the ring to go to.

Short And Sweet

Vincent Pembridge's black limousine rolled into the parking lot of the arena.

Vincent Pembridge stepped out of the limo, flanked by Liam & Drake Nefarian.

Vince and his men began walking towards the entrance of the arena, aiming to begin a night where much destruction would unfold, for their respective enemies.

But as the Scorpion placed one hand on the handle of the door, he found himself flying down to the ground. Looking up, he watched as with two deft kicks, Liam & Nefarian slumped down to the concrete as well, holding their chests in agony.

There was only one person who could have done such a thing.

"Vincent."

Gabriel So'ialu forcefully slammed his right foot down onto the chest of the British Degenerate, pinning him to the gravel. Gabriel was much bigger than Vincent, and the latter knew it. No point trying to fight in the current situation, seeing how it was just too big of a risk.

"So, I see you've finally managed to make your way inside one of these wonderful buildings. Had a little bit of trouble last week, I heard?"

So'ialu growled at Vincent's cockiness, as the Scorpion chuckled, clearly not afraid of the man he was now embroiled in a deadly feud with. Gabriel bent down, bringing his face closer to Vincent's.

And emitted a chuckle of his own.

"You're a bloody cocky one, eh? Looks like there's a little role reversal here. But you know what, Vincent?

This thing's gotta end. I've got more important things to take care of."

It was at this juncture that Liam arose, and charged at So'ialu. Naturally, Gabriel slipped into fight-mode, inadvertently freeing Vincent Pembridge, who quickly motioned for the Irishman to take a dive.

And dive he did, falling down after a single punch from Gabriel.

However, as the dreadlocked monster turned around, Vincent took him down with a judo-esque armdrag takedown, slamming the bigger and stronger So'ialu down onto the gravel with massive impact. By then, Liam & Nefarian had recovered, and joined Vincent in a beatdown of Gabriel So'ialu.

"More important things? Aren't you the one that spent your pathetic week planning this little ambush of me? Now, see what's happened to that, cunt!"

Liam & Drake smiled and laughed, as the intensity of their blows increased, as they sought to draw some blood.

That was before security came rushing out to break everything up. With the melee over, several members of the security team helped So'ialu up and brought him into the arena, while the rest kept the Scorpion and his buddies at bay, admonishing them at the same time.

But alas, it was Gabriel who ignited the situation further.

"Fucker, you think you're tough? You wanna go with me, huh? You wanna play with me?

Tonight, you and your boys, against me and my crew!"

Vincent laughed in response, while Liam & Nefarian sniggered, as they returned to the limo they came in. Obviously, they had plans of their own on the night, and basically non-verbally announced their withdrawal from the challenge.

The British Degenerate had other ideas, though.

"Alright, if you insist.

Knickerson and myself, against you and your sodding crew. Feel free to stack the odds against me, I won't mind. It could be six thousand against the two of us, I don't bloody care.

Just be sure to make it a worthwhile fight."

And with that, So'ialu grinned, as he was officially led back into the confines of the arena. Pembridge turned and walked back towards the limo, pleased with what had just gone down, and pleased with what was about to unfold.

Bobby Knickerson had a worried look on his face, however, as Liam & Nefarian ushered him out of the limo.

A sign of things to come? Most likely.

The Promise

It had been a long week of anticipation. Not only for Hillary Small….but for her fans. 

A long week with barely any sleep, Hillary had been up at dawn every day. 

She had been contemplating the cause and effect of her actions later this week, and had planned her movements like a military commander planning an assault. 

No matter what anyone else said, she would win later that night, she would triumph. 

Just like the military commander. 

He would be urging his infantry to use their guns, use their grenades and just generally kick some ass. 

Hillary would be kicking some ass….but she would not use guns. Well actually, she would. 

Two fists….each firing bullets at random. 

Jade WOULD be defeated.

Bag Check

“Superstar” Vince Jacobs pushed his way through the steel doors that led into the arena. As he pushed past a back stage tech it was evident that he definitely wasn’t happy, granted he usually wasn’t these days, but this time there was something more added to it. As Jacobs came up to a crew man holding a sheet in his hand, his question came out at once.

“You better be able to tell me if and when my equipment is coming to the arena.”

“Look, Mr. Jacobs… we’ve had some problems with…”

“Don’t start that crap with me kid. If your going to tell me that my equipment isn’t coming in when you could have phoned and called and given me a week off, I swear to god…”

Vince Jacobs raised the tone of his voice with the end of each sentence. The fact is it didn’t matter to him if his equipment had come in… granted it would make what he had planned harder to pull off… but at the moment he was going to have a little bit of fun with this backstage grunt. SVJ had been almost on cloud nine since his victory over Alias last week, it was an incredibly vicious match but still he walked out on top. The worker in question was now getting incredibly nervous and jittery; he stumbled for his next words.

“Look… um… Mr. Jacobs… ah… well Mr. Dunn wanted everyone here tonight anyway. The thing is the bags might come in and they might not… cause, you see, more then just your bag got, ummm, displaced when we transported everything.”

Across the arena, at the opposite entrance as a matter of fact, it seemed that someone who SVJ knew all to well was having the same problem.

“Don’t worry it’s alright, -----. If I need to wrestle tonight I’ll do it in my street clothes, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

Alias smiled at the stumpy and slightly rounded backstage crew member. Patting him on the back he was on his down the hall.

“Chris!”

Alias took a few steps and looked down a one way hall that he had passed just seconds ago and saw the always imposing figure of Joe Bishop. Alias began to walk down the hall of dressing rooms and Bishop made his way up towards him. The two men met more of less halfway up the hall.

“Look, I just wanted to tell you that your match for tonight has been swept.”

“Because of the equipment?”

“That be it. Hey how are you holding up, man?”

Alias looked Bishop dead in the eye. He expected that this would continue for the rest of the night… this Vince Jacobs thing, did it really look like it was shit kicking him THAT much? None the less, the Original Pulp Hero put on a smile.

“Nothing a lot of Advil, sleep and whiskey can’t handle.”

Quinton's Army Meeting #014

"Tonight is a rather important night, folks. The circumstances that have unfolded... couldn't have been foreseen. And THUS! I am planning to cut out the comedy for once, and be serious. Because this is a really serious matter. Tonight, a critical stage in the war between us and those British bum-shaggers will be reached.

And if we end up on the short end of the stick, we might never recover. As it is, it's pretty even right now. But they've got the resources, the manpower, and the sneakiness of Vincent. They can leapfrog us at any moment, but several obstacles stand in their way.

We MUST use that to our advantage!"

The boiler-room. As usual. Where else? It is the only place in any arena that a bunch of misfits, who're the most popular thing since Pepsi Twist, can use to chill or to hold their weekly meetings. And with a deadly war being waged, meetings like these are crucial, to keep the gladiators fighting for the right cause informed on the latest happenings.

Quinton May, however, did not look like a gladiator. Not with the pajamas he was wearing.

....

He's not feeling well, you see. A nasty flu, coupled with muscle aches and a throbbing migraine.

But the rest of the guys -- 006.392, Damnson, and Janitor Howard -- all looked dressed to kill. Combat uniform was what they were wearing, and with all three of them standing at attention, it was a wonderful sight to behold.

And yes, even Damnson was in the line-up this time. But someone was missing.

Someone... phenomenal.

Someone... who made little girls scream with delight.

Someone... who made adult women go crazy with recurring orgasms.

Someone... who made gay men want to chop off their hands and play basketball with their feet.

....

"WHEEEEEEEEEEERE'S MOOOOOOORRRRRRRRISSSSSSSSS?" Damnson hissed, much like a snake, as his eyes began to do that weird thing it does. Shift focus every two-tenth of a second, making him look like the most paranoid bastard alive, and the most perverted one at that.

And yes, I am not joking.

Quinton cleared his throat, as he dabbed his forehead with a towel, his sick state making him sweat like a horny pig. Despite being not completely in the pink of health, May decided that his Army needed his guidance tonight, as a potentially dangerous backlash from the Scorpion of Manchester could cripple the group.

Once and for all.

"Morris has been pulled out for a special mission today; Operation:RESCUE~! This leaves the three of you here tonight, and I do realise how stretched to the bones we are. But tonight, we'll be having Mr Gabriel So'ialu helping us. That's right, ladies, what you saw earlier was a cunning plan.

It's going to be Gabriel and 006.392 and Damnson, against Vince & Knickerson! 006, Damnson... I know you two are looking for revenge. And 006, you must remember the lesson you learnt, or else, the time we spent on it will prove to be completely useless!

But the point is, the match is a VERY important one. You two know what's to be expected, so let's make sure everything goes according to plan. If we do it right, this could mean a fantastic victory for us!"

Damnson & the YOTN nodded their heads, as they saluted Quinton and filed out. It was time for them to discuss strategy with their partner for the night, Gabriel So'ialu, who surely had ideas on how to take Vincent out of the game. With 006's past experience against the Scorpion, it appeared as if maybe the odds did favour the dreadlocked monster after all.

But Quincy Mama wasn't too hung up on that at the moment. He had Janitor Howard left to address.

"Howard, Drake Nefarian's all yours. Again, you are aware of what is going to happen. Let's do this right, and show to those fools that they're messing with the wrong bunch of horny bastards here. QA is going to take one giant step towards waving the flag of victory high up in the air tonight!

Only if you do what you have to do, Howard!"

Howard nodded his head, realising how important his match with Drake Nefarian was proving to be. Sure, Drake had the height advantage, and all that good stuff, but did he have the power of old man sweat to spur him on? Did he have the power of Quincy Mama's wonderful cologne to spur him on?

Simple answer.

N. O.

"That, I'll do! And after tonight, I'll be able to visit my youngest baby girl, Jaime! WHOO!"

Both being family men, Quinton & Howard traded high-fives, before the Senior Citizen of the group marched out of the boiler-room, eager to finalize his preparations for his duel with Drake. It wasn't going to be pretty, but H had a plan. Whether it would work or not, was a different kettle of fish.

All Quinton cared about, at that moment, was the sudden premonition that something was going to go wrong.

And being all alone in the boiler room, it wasn't the right time to have a sudden sharp pain in his head, that paralyzed his entire body, as a plethora of mental images jarred his central nervous system.

Then, lights out.

.... The return of the visions?

Big Mouth.

It was just the start of the night, and already HAWK was chomping at the bit to tear what little hair he had on his head right off. With the airport royally messing up with their luggage, it seemed that 3/4's of the roster had no wrestling gear, and being the professional bunch that they are, most of them are turned up in trousers and shoes, or boots and jeans, neither attire really being the best thing to wear in the squared circle.

As HAWK travelled the backstage, he bumped into Joe Bishop who had given him the bad news that only two matches where actually ready to go ahead tonight, the rest had been cancelled due to the mix up. With Dunn out of commission talking to the investors, it was a headache that HAWK had to deal with.

"Bad night?" said the voice which came from a dark locker room as HAWK passed it by.

"Not tonight Keller." HAWK said as he rushed by, but he was too late, he had given Keller his chance as the former aWc star strolled out of his locker room and followed the ACW staff member.

"Why HAWK...aren't we friends anymore? I thought we were...bonding?"

"I don't say this to all my employee's Keller, but fuck off would you."

HAWK stopped and turned around, as both he and Keller stepped closer to one another in a big to heighten the tension in the crowded backstage hall.

"Harsh words HAWK...too bad harsh words aren't gonna save this show tonight, I would offer to wrestle, but as you can see, tight jeans and docMartens are the best in wrestling attire, I just can't get myself up for those dropkicks, but I guess as your age you're used to not being able to get...things...up."

HAWK smirked as his head hung to the right as he nodded his head.

"I didn't know their was a brain in that bald head of yours, because...I thought you'd be smarter than to piss off and pissed off HAWK? No?"

Keller shrugged.

"OK then...your up after Howard and Drake, I think I'll give big Hamish his wrestling debut? That sound OK?"

As HAWK walked off, Keller smiled as the advantage he had for a short time, had just been yanked right back off of him.

"Sounds great HAWK..."

A Mole

"I'm telling you, there is a mole within our ranks!"

The Scorpion's locker-room. Where he, Drake Nefarian, and Bobby Knickerson are currently resting... waiting, for the big match to unfold. A chance for Vince to finally eradicate Gabriel So'ialu from his side, the latter being as effective as a spiky thorn.

"That just sounds so unlikely. Who the hell would want to even think of betraying you, Sir? I mean, especially with myself & Liam running a tight ship. Not to sound like an arrogant bum here, but I do think that we're doing a great job of keeping the troops motivated. Nobody dares to even voice out an opinion that doesn't conform with your standards, and everybody realises what a bunch of fruitcakes our enemies are."

Vincent stroked his goatee, and leaned back in his chair, while Bobby coughed... his shifty eyes focused on the door of the room. He knew something the others didn't, and basically, it involved a little bit of betrayal.

"Where is Liam, anyway? He bloody disappeared on me!"

Drake laughed, opening up an unmarked folder and taking a fleeting glance at the contents. Knickerson continued to squirm in his seat, as he taped his wrists, obviously nervous over the match he was unknowingly drafted into. All he knew was that So'ialu would be one member of the opposing team?

Who else, and how many? Didn't seem to matter to Vincent, it appeared. Although the rest of the world already knew, he and Knickerson had no clue that 006.392 & Damnson would be on Gabriel's team. Maybe because the Manucian doesn't really shake in his boots at the mention of those names.

"He's gone off to take care of a little business, downtown. Don't you remember? Anyway, I have everything under control. I'm pretty much prepared for my match tonight, and the troops have been briefed on what to do. Everything's on the up and up. Liam will report back to us tomorrow morning.

After all, following what he's going to do tonight, the heat's going to be on him for quite a while. Of course, you have that bit covered, but he figured it'd be safer if he had a contingency plan to count on. Also, he'll deserve the night off if he can actually do it.

I must admit, I'm a bit skeptical."

Closing the folder, Drake Nefarian cracked his knuckles and looked at his leader in the eyes. Vincent bit on his lower lip, pondering the words of his hired gun. The two men, prior to their current business relationship, had met before in the past. During that time, however, there was no love lost between the two.

Hell, the encounter between the two lasted, at the most, twenty minutes.

It was during the time when Vincent Pembridge, running amuck under the moniker Jakks, was making his much-anticipated debut in the FightingZone. An underground fighting promotion with over forty-odd years of legacy and history. The catch for Vince was that he needed a partner, someone to take a percentage of the winnings made from winning fights. It was the only requirement of the FZ.

And something he wasn't quite willing to oblige back then. But he did go on a search anyway. An exhaustive search, it had to be added. Drake Nefarian was one of the many few that the British Degenerate came across, while at a gym. The man born in the Middle-East was still in the process of perfecting his groove as a boxer, and refused to even consider something that wasn't directly related to boxing.

Hence, there it ended. And it only got relived a short while ago.

That is a story on its own, and better reserved for another day. Right now, as the Scorpion gulped down some water, he stared at the man he now entrusted to carry out various duties.

"Oh, right. That little plan. Yeah, I was beginning to wonder why those cunts hadn't been roaming around these parts, making complete arseholes of themselves. Now I remember -- they've been taken care of. Heh.

Was their ride here bloody uncomfortable?"

All Drake had to do was grin sadistically, and Vincent burst out laughing. Nefarian joined in for a bit, as he sat down to lace up his boots. Bobby too laughed along, although his cackle sounded pretty fakish and forced. Nevertheless, he played along, not wanting to reveal how bloody scared he was.

If they knew, he was dead.

Drake finally stood up and saluted his boss, before leaving the room. It was just about time for his match, one would assume. That left the Manucian and the so-called Phenomenon alone. The master and his student-in-training. Who would be teaming up in the ACW for the first time, after a little experience in thReat with The Vagabonds.

"So then, Bobby. Excited?" Vincent asked.

All Knickerson could do was... nod, and pray that his bladder wouldn't burst.

Poor kid.

The Match That Could Not Be

Hillary Small was just getting ready to put on her in-ring attire when suddenly…a knock on the door. An ACW page entered her locker room, dressed neatly with polished shoes. 

Hillary ignored the page for several minutes before he coughed in an attempt to get her attention. She (unusually) grinned, and continued to ignore him. 

After a few more minutes of unrest the page spoke up in a teenage tone of voice..

“Hello, my name is John.” Said the spotty teenager, taking a note out of his beige trousers (which he looked ridiculously uncomfortable in) and passing it to Hillary. Hillary dragged her hands through her jet black hair and opened the note, which was folded. She read slowly but surely…a process that took about half a minute. And when she had finished? 

“RROOOARR” was the sound that emanated from her voice box, an incredible vibration of anger and impatience. She tore the note up as the page fled, his shoes squeaking away and into the distance. 

Match? What match? 

That’s right, there was to be no Jade/Small confrontation this week. 

Courtesy of the one they call “SilverHAWK”.

The Match That Could Not Be Part Two

Jade was sitting in her dressing room, tying up her shoe when in walked an ACW page. She looked up at him and sat back in the large chair, resting her arms on the high armrests. 

“Can I help you with something?” Jade raised an eyebrow towards the boy, who stood in front of her.

He set an envelope down on the end of the table nearest him, and without a word, ran out of the dressing room. 

Jade curiously got up off the chair and walked towards the other end of the table. 

She picked up the envelope and opened it up. 

There was a small piece of paper inside, folded in half. Getting even more curious, Jade unfolded the paper and began to read.

“DAMMIT!” 

Jade tossed the paper and envelope to the floor and booked it out of her dressing room.

Janitor Howard Vs. Nefarian

  

"Pity" by Drowning Pool.

Cue the immense jeers, as out came the Hired Hitman himself, Drake Nefarian. The former boxer, who had a lot of adversity staring him in the face as he rose up in the boxing rankings. Having found a better opportunity in this industry, albeit due to extra-ciricular activites, Drake decided to jump ship and grace another type of squared-circle.

Without abiding to the rules, this time.

He walked to the ring, wearing only gray denim jeans and black boots, plus a wicked grin on his face. He looked to be enjoying the fact that someone as old ad Janitor Howard was his opponent. The fans didn't seem to care, though. They continued to boo the British Army member as he rolled into the ring and cracked his neck, waiting for the enemy.

Then, "Science" by System Of A Down.

And out tumbled Janitor Howard, receiving an immense reaction from the people that loved QA on a whole. Howard might have been past his prime, but surely, he had a plan of some sort. And even if he didn't, you might say that being the supreme underdog would be able to motivate him to pull off a shocker.

Nefarian sniggered at the sight of Janitor H, and actually pointed at him, before making the cut-throat motion.

Howard shrugged, and raced down to the ring, showing that he wasn't afraid at all. He'd met tougher characters in his lifetime, and some jackass who was a boxer wasn't about to frighten him. Not one bit. The crowd loved this show of bravery from Janitor H, and popped big-time as he slid into the ring and jumped at Drake.

Nefarian simply unleashed a thrust kick that found its way into the face of Howard, and knocked him out cold.

End the cheering, start the jeering.

The Hired Hitman smiled, and began stomping away at the Senior Citizen of QA, showing no mercy in his kicks. His eyes told the story of focus and intent -- he was intent on breaking some bones. But somehow, the ever-increasing volume of loathe got to Drake, and he stopped to face the fans.

Before showing them the middle finger.

Drake crouched down to pick Howard up, and immediately smashed his forearm into H's face, sending the latter flying into the ropes and stumbling right back into Nefarian's path, like a donkey wishing for more loads to be put on its back. Nefarian simply grinned, and began to unleash several jabs to the abdominals of the Janitor, before attempting to finish matters off with a right jab.

Surprisingly enough, Howard blocked the punch with his left hand and swiftly fired back with a left cross-hook, that actually sent Drake down to the canvas. Loud, shocked pops rang throughout the arena... and there was definitely more to come from Howard, as he unleashed a vile kick to the side of Drake, making the latter wince in agony.

Now, this was a match.

Howard picked Nefarian up and whipped him into the ropes, before taking a step back... like a runner, getting ready to explode out of the starting blocks. And as Drake came off the ropes, Howard charged forward, leaping into the air and connecting with...

A FLYING FIST~~!! STREET-FIGHTER REBORN~~!!!

....

"HOWARD ROCKS!!"
"HOWARD ROCKS!!"
"HOWARD ROCKS!!"
"HOWARD ROCKS!!"

He sure did rock with that move, and with the stunned Drake Nefarian down, Howard quickly made the cover;

ONE...

TWO...

THREE!

HOWARD WON!! OH MY FUCKING GOD! HOWARD WON!! STONE COLD!! STONE COLD!!

....

Yeah, you naive goons. Howard, contrary to popular belief and desire, didn't win. In fact, Drake had kicked out right after ONE, which makes you idiots look like gullible morons.

....

Uhum, gullible morons who are sexy, k? Kewl.

Anyway, back to the match. Howard cursed as he picked Drake up and attempted to whip him into the ropes again. No such luck this time, as Nefarian expertly reversed it, and planted Janitor H with an overhead belly suplex upon the latter's return! A punishing move that shook the ring, and sent the audience back to a hateful state.

Especially with the cover that was to follow;

ONE...

TWO...

THREE!

....

Yes, folks. This time, it was fo'sho. Drake had picked up the victory just like that, within a blink of an eye. Not many people expected a classic, and a classic wasn't what they got. What transpired next, however, was definitely worthy of the term... "classic".

Streams of janitors rolled out from behind the curtains and sprinted to the ring as Drake Nefarian arose to his foot, celebrating the rather easy victory. And without any notice, all six of them jumped the Hired Hitman, whilst Howard rolled out of the ring and limped to the back.

Smiling.

In defeat, he'd still managed to give Quinton's Army a victory of sorts. Drake Nefarian was finding out the fury of the janitors, first hand. Don't mess with Morris & Howard, yo.

That's this week's lesson, folks.

Winner: Nefarian

Fun In A Warehouse [1]

The industrial area. More specifically, the outskirts of the industrial area of this fair city. Not exactly the safest place to hang out during the night. But for two men, they don't have a choice. They've been trapped in the warehouse for exactly two days, but have been without food or water for an entire week.

They were on the brink of death.

But the will to live, the desire to not give up... present now more than ever... is what had kept them alive.

And is what will continue to keep them alive, unless they fall prey to immense physical torture. Of course, the captors DID plan to bring on the torture soon enough.

Ask, and ye shall receive, eh?

Andi Kole & Joey Kole, handcuffed and bound to chairs, were looking shells of themselves. Having been dragged away by Liam & Drake Nefarian on last week's edition of Courage, nobody knew what had happened to the duo who were aiming to make it big. Not just in the industry, but in life.

The price they were paying for their tactics was evident now... as whips crashed down on their bare chests. Bloodcurdling screams rang out in the warehouse, but being quite a distance away from any simple form of civilization, the Kole Brothers looked to be in a doomed situation.

Damn those British teenagers and their apathy, eh?

From Scotland With Love

Tam and Hamish, better known as the Flying Scotsmen, had been at the arena for hours. As they didn't actually live in the USA, it was hard for them to settle anywhere, certainly as ACW's future was in doubt. Instead they would plan ahead and sleep in small hotels for their stay, just so they could eat and make it to the shows ever week. So arriving at the arena 6 hours before it starts, means boredom with a capital b.

"Tam ma boy...what are yo doing?"

Hamish walked in with a fresh cup of coffee in his hand, and yes the myth is true, Scotsmen don't always drink alcoholic beverages...they just do it most of the time, not all the time! 

As he sat the coffee down on the desk, he watched as Tam "surfed the net".

"I got a loan of it from one of the staff guys, and he hooked up the Internet for us. I've seen other guys in wrestling use it, Joe Campbell and that, so I thought that I'd give it a go, it's real easy."

"What's this your oan?" Hamish said, as he screwed his eyes trying to make out the picture of Borst on the top banner.

"It's some forum that the guy had on his favorites...eWrestling Planet or some pish. Just a lot of ego's talking utter shite if you ask me...lemme see what other sites we have on this thing."

As Tam pushed the Favorites bar on the top of the browser, a rather large list appeared on the screen, the first of which he clicked.

"Hey...the ACW site!" Tam screamed as Hamish looked...rather uninterested.

"Uggh...we've no got a photo, cuz that fucking photographer is a lazy arse I bet."

As Tam hovered around the site, he clicked on the Fan Board to see if there was any posts about them especially. As he looked at the board, the very first post that he looked at was TAG TEAMS, as Hamish sat back down with his cup of coffee and watched as Tam suddenly screamed...

"That fucking monkeywank bastard!"

Hammy couldn't control himself as he spat a huge amount of coffee all over the sofa as he burst out laughing...coffee and snot falling from his chin as he quickly whipped himself off and moved over to Tam.

"What's up wee man."

"This cunt here...look, he slagged us off...little motherfucker. This Zezu dude says that we could kick the Koles' and Janitors' ass', which we would, and then this cunt said "Who?" when our name was mentioned, I'm gonna give that we fucker a piece of my mind."

As Tam frantically typed away...the vicious juices flowed as he tried to get his best swear words and put them all together, to form a sentence.

It Read

-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

: The Flying Scotsmen

:Who?

: Later,
: -[K]

Oi cuntball...where do you live and me and big hammy will show you who da fucken FS are ya bastard!

Ya big fucking ratty arsed fish smelling fuckty!

Aye!

You're gonna get it!

Love
Wee Tam!

-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Business? [1]

The Eight Seasons Motel.

Yes, a blatant rip of the Four Seasons brand name. But who cares? Not the man who had blown up the three blocks that made up the motel, that's for sure. Yup, the Eight Seasons Motel was proving to be a spectacle, as the raging inferno attracted onlookers from around the area, while firefighters struggled with the unenviable task of putting out the fire.

Hordes of police officers swarmed the scene, already beginning investigations. This was a big a mess as any, and it was already proving to be a statistical nightmare. Not to mention, baffling... considering the immediate lack of evidence. Plus, the owner of the motel not being around.

As a rather large-build man walked past the officer-in-charge, he heard something that made him blush. Something that stroked his ego, and confirmed that his most recent act of destruction was carried out properly;

"... Yes, officer! It just happened, just like that. And apparently, the room from which the blast started off belongs to two janitors, who are also wrestlers. It's strange, really. They looked uber-gay to me.

Morris & Howard, I think their names were. Oh man, they're gonna freak when they find out that all their luggage and stuff has been burnt to a crisp. Man oh man, this also means I'm out of a fucking job! Fuck it, man!"

Liam just couldn't help but grin, as he took a glance at his watch. There was more business to be done, but the night was still young. The fire that engulfed the motel was evidence of that.

.... Business? You bet.

To submit or Not Submit…. That is the question

The tension had been pretty high throughout the night. A lot of the fans were somewhat upset that a few of their favorite superstars would not be wrestling tonight because of a mishap from the airport. Two of the unlucky superstars were the two men from the main event last week, ‘Superstar’ Vince Jacobs and Alias.

These two men had one hell of battle last week that was added to their ever-growing war. Vince Jacobs walked the hallways of the arena passing the new wrestlers of the ACW and officials. Vince only had one thing on his mind walking the hall, and that was Christopher Sheffield. 

SVJ continued walking the hall until he came to a dressing room door which read ‘Alias’. Vince opened the door and walked in. Alias who was sitting on the sofa suddenly stood up to see his bitter enemy walking into his dressing room. Alias walked over to SVJ as the two men stood nose to nose. The tension in the room was at an all-time high because at any moment these two men would explode and come to blows in Alias’ dressing room.

But that wasn’t the case as SVJ was the first one to blink as he turned away from Alias and sat down in a chair in the room. Alias didn’t know what was on Vince’s mind. He was very cautious as he sat down on the sofa next to Vince. 

Alias looked at Vince. “What do you want Vince?”

“Your head on a platter, but that’s not what I am in here for.” Vince said with a smirk on his face

“Is it about last week’s match?” Alias said

“What about last week? I beat your ass in the Submission match and you lost.” Vince said confidently

“Well --- “ Alias said cutting in

“Well what Chris.” Vince said sitting up in the chair now

Alias sat up himself looking at the expression on Vince’s face. “Well I didn’t tap last week so I technically didn’t lose the match.”

Vince face turned red with anger as he bore a hole into Alias for his comments. SVJ just smiled and played the comment off before firing back a comment of his own.

“When it was all said and done I was declared the winner. But if you think you didn’t lose we can finish this right here and now, tough guy.” Vince said as he stood to his feet

Alias stood to his feet also as the two men was nose to nose again both with clinched fists ready to strike like a snake backed into a corner. Vince looked at Chris who was ready for anything that SVJ was about to do.

“Not now Chris… not now.” Vince said with a smirk as he left the room

Alias looked on at Vince Jacobs leaving his room and a small grin came across his face as he felt a small victory in the huge war that has been Vince Jacobs and Alias.

A glutton for punishment…



Could anyone say that they were surprised when the ACWtron lighted up with that miraculous gleam…they would see one of the few people that could get under their skin, like an infection of ring worms. That humongous TV screen clicked on in the darkness, and the very woman that had made her impact-full debut during ACW’s most important pay per view of the year, Legends … was standing in her usual, weekly location. Like a hooker dedicated to her most profitable street corner; Isis stood against a wall in the backstage area. But it wasn’t the wall that was important.. it was the door that was next to the wall, that made the crowd reaction grow with every passing second… as Isis stood up, then quietly tread in front of the locker room entry way. 

She looked to her left, then to right.. twirling a single strand of her black curly hair with thick red streaks in her right hand… hesitating as she was about to hit mantle plate on the door in front of her; before drawing her hand back in a playful manner. A passing referee walked by. He eye balled the self proclaimed ‘Queen of Wrestling’ like any man in their right mind would. The low cut blouse; the cleavage that rose out of the top of her shirt and the skin tight; low cut, hip hugger jeans made Isis’ ass look so firm… made her the obvious victim for sexual harassment, if someone was stupid enough to touch her and get away with it. The audience looked on while Isis stood perfectly still in front of the door as she smiled with an evil smirk… the preverbal light bulb just flashed in her head. 

Isis must have picked that up from Osyrus. 

She finally she built up enough courage to strike the dressing room, as it made a loud thud noise, every time she hit it. Laughing to herself; she leaned back against the wall, where she previously stood as the owner of the room peeked his head out in curiosity. The spiked hair; the broad frame of his chest and shoulders… and of course his trademark scars on the right side of is face, made it abundantly clear that the man whom was looking around the ACW hallways was none other than… 

Jason Kain. 

JK looked down the aisle to his right; seeing the backside of the referee turning the corner, then motioned to his left as he saw his biggest tormentor in the flesh. He immediately slammed the door shut. 

”Jason, open up! I need to talk to you Jason honestly!” Her heart felt cries echoed in the hallway while she slapped the door with open palm strikes. But as soon as her full on assault on the door ended… it quickly swung open. And Isis jumped back against the concrete wall, that had her trapped between a rock and hard, unforgiving face. 

”What the fuck do you want bitch.” Kain bellowed down to Isis as she scrunched closer to the floor while JK stared her down. She turned her face away, just in case Kain was angered enough to hit a woman… luckily in her case, he wasn’t that mad… yet. 

”I wanted to ask you if you were still considering, calling it truces. I know you remember what Omar did to Jade and I don’t want that to get in way of our relationship…” She started to get off of the ground as Kain backed up as the fumes of steam rose from his head. The veins started to appear from the skin that kept them invisible seconds ago.. before he hulked up, screaming in the hallway. 

”WHAT?!?! You want me to join forces with you? The woman… hell, you don’t even deserve to be called a woman, the most atrocious skank whore I’ve seen on the face of this planet. How can I ever be on the same side as the person that kicked the person I care for so much… in the side of the face when she was down a few weeks ago. Do you think I forgot that Isis? When I thought you were going to come to your senses.. stopping that other fucker Osyrus from hurting my Jade. Instead you rub salt on the already gashing wounds; mental and physical that the two of you have caused. I will never and I mean…” 

The crowd chants in unison… 

”NEVER! Forgive you Isis!” He grabbed her by her forehead and pushed her back against the wall, as it made smack noise upon impact. 

”If I ever see you in my face again, I guarantee I will make sure you and Osyrus pay.” 

Kain stormed away as he slammed his locker room door shut. With every loud, echoing step.. Isis started to sniffle; rubbing her eyes while she laid on the floor. 

Her crocodile tears continued to roll down her brown cheeks as the ACWtron captured her many emotions. Her loneliness, her despair and feeling of the rejection she felt was like a sharp pain in her chest. But all that changed when Isis heard the faint noise of something in the distance… 


Clap 


Clap 


Clap 


Clap


Clap 


”What a performance. I could feel your pain right here in the center of my chest… that is, if I had a heart. The only question I have for you now, Meryl Streep… where is the little guy in the tuxedo that is going to hand you an Oscar©.” Isis started to get off the cold ground where she lied, but was quickly pushed back down by the shoulder by her partner in crime… Osyrus. 

”Again; I find you in this hallway, which is no surprise… because this is the place that you have always ran off to… when you said in your words that you would be, ‘Right back’. Now I would be stupid enough ask you Isis what you were really doing, but I already know.” 

”You do?” She started up quickly. Adjusting her clothes as she slowly got back to her feet, this time Osyrus letting her up, while he nodded in agreement. 
“Yup. This time when you said that you going out for some coffee.. I decided to tag along. I saw what you did to old gate face Kain and I thought it was great!” 

”You did?” Isis rubbed her head just to make sure the bump she took didn’t knock something loose. 

”Yeah, but I wish you would of told me about it. Because we could have thought of a better plan to screw Kain, Jade and the whole ACW right up their stinking, pompous asses. But don’t worry Isis, your little plot to get Kain on your side has given me an great idea… And if Kain doesn’t want you to be in his face ever again, than he better not shown his ugly ass face around here… especially near us. Because we’ll make him regret that he never heard either of our names.” 

The Match That Could Not Be Part Three

Jade pounded on the door and without an answer, stormed into SilverHAWK’s office. She stood in front of him, her hands folded across her chest. She was pissed. 

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!?”

SilverHAWK finally looked up from the papers he was reading. He folded his hands in front of him and leaned back in the chair. 

“I had a feeling you’d be coming to see me...” he smiled at Jade, who didn’t smile back.

“You can’t postpone this match!!!” Jade began to pace across the floor in front of his desk. 

“Jade, you and Hillary don’t deserve each other tonight, even though potentially, the show could use another match, it's not going to be this one.” SilverHAWK looked up at her from behind the safety of his desk. She stopped pacing and glared down at him.

“What the fuck do you mean, we don’t deserve each other? We’ve been waiting all week for this match. I’ve been cleared to wrestle, and we haven’t even looked at each other sideways since last Courage...we DESERVE this match!!!” Jade placed her hands on her hips and sighed. She shook her head and began to grind her teeth.

“Save it...” HAWK stood up and looked out the window behind his desk.

“SAVE IT!?” Jade was even more pissed now. “You’re telling me...”

HAWK turned away from the window and interrupted Jade. “If you’d let me finish, you would understand what I’m about to say...you may even like the outcome! Jesus, you’re even more stubborn than Jason Kain!” 

Jade stopped and leaned against the door, ignoring his comment. She folded her arms across her chest again, and waited. “What?” she looked cranky now.

“What I was going to say was, ‘save it for Glory!’ You and Hillary can have your match, but not tonight...save it for the Pay-Per-View!”

Jade pushed herself off the door and walked up to his desk, she leaned across it and stuck out her hand. HAWK stared at it, then looked back up at Jade’s smiling face. He shook her hand. “You got yourself a deal...”

Jade quickly walked out of his office, slamming the door behind her.

“Wrestlers!” HAWK sighed and sat back down at his desk.

Meet-And-Greet Part Two

It was a migraine...a definite migraine.

Dunn sat at the head of a large oak desk as the 5 investors sat around him, smoking their large Cubans and being taken care of by the miniscule ACW budget, and as all this was going on, no real work was being done at all.

"It's clear to me Mr. Dunn, that your federation isn't on the scale of a WWE, or an fWo, and that is where all the money is to be made, and I hope I speak for everyone here, but it's just not good enough for us to be giving money to some 2 dollar organisation."

The room shook it's head in agreeance as Dunn was clearly outnumbered, as he had been for hour of conversation that they had already had during the show. It seemed that Dunn had a room full of Ethan Winters' here, all the brains about TV and marketing, none about the actual wrestling.

Except one.

"It seems to me," the man said as he put down his bottle of water, he was the only man apart from Dunn not smoking, "that we're currently in a rut, and measures have to be taken to get out of that rut."

"Agreed." Dunn said, as he pulled out a small booklet for each of the men around the table. "These documents are the current plans that myself and the other staff members currently have about lowering the expenditure here in ACW and maximizing the income. We believe that the angles and shows that we have coming up will boost the federations reputation ten fold. We have angles and pushes in place for the men whom we think can generate the most market interest, and the men whom we think can become the Hulk Hogan's, Steve Austin's or Sting's of ACW."

The table seemed impressed as they flicked through the booklet, especially the knowledgeable one.

"That's a really nice idea about your World Title...that should generate a lot of interest and excitement around the networks."

Dunn smiled for the first time during the meeting, as the men all looked at the paperwork and raised their eyebrows...he may have just possibly saved ACW.

Fun In A Warehouse [2]

Ah, the Industria again. The Brit teenagers decided to take a break from the torture they were inflicting in the deserted warehouse. Could you blame them? After all, Andi & Joey were completely weakened, with deep gashes all over their torso and the possibility of tons of broken bones.

Not to mention, patches of dried blood covering the floor.

Laughing, the group of teenagers celebrated, chugging down cheap beers and smoking their favourite brand of cigarettes. It had been a good night's work for them. They'd done whatever they had been told to do, and now, they only needed to wait for fresh orders.

One which would, no doubt, see the probable demise of Andi & Joey Kole.

But suddenly, the band of ten teenagers suddenly sensed an unwelcome presence in the warehouse. Like how a dog senses natural disasters, and begin acting all crazy. The chatter amongst the group was silenced, and everybody grabbed their respective batons, ready for some action.

Without knowing what hit them, one swift action saw three of the group of ten taken out, as the flying body of <b>Janitor Morris</b> aimed to replicate the job of a bowling all. Seven remained, however, and they quickly advanced on Morris, who had his game-face on.

He was all business on the night, and his steel-pipe was proof of that.

Andi & Joey watched as Janitor Morris fearlessly took on the teens, and a bloody battle ensued. Morris looked to be quick and sharp, evading blows and avoiding getting tricked into situations where he would be outnumbered. But finally, it looked as if the numbers swung in the favour of the British teenagers.

However, there was to be a slight twist in the plot here. The steel pipe Morris wielded? Out of his hands now, and it rolled towards the two brothers, still bound to the chairs. And it rolled under Andi's chair, stopping right behind it. With sudden new vigour in him, the older of the two brothers decided to take a chance.

It would either work, or fail miserably and cause him to be knocked out.

He leaned back as much as he could, and the chair toppled over. Obviously, Andi went down along with the chair, but the more important thing was that his handcuffed hands crashed down directly onto the steel pipe. Now, what did that accomplish, you might be asking?

Simple.

It broke Andi's 'cuffs.

And with that, Andi grabbed the pipe and smashed his brother's cuffs as well, before slapping Joey to rouse him back to life. The two were finally free, and ready to kick ass.

Which they did, now playing the roles of saviours, to Janitor Morris. Suddenly, it was 3 on 7 now.

And within minutes, the British teenagers had been disposed of. Every single one of them were laying face down, tasting the cold concrete. It was sweet revenge for the mentally & physically drained Kole Brothers, who were near the point of exhaustion. Morris, beaten up but still good to go, retrieved his little bag pack and tossed Andi & Joey two bottles of water.

They gulped it down, gratefully.

Morris grinned, Operation:RESCUE~! successful.

But as he turned his back on Andi & Joey, attempting to retrace his steps to lead the brothers out of the warehouse, Andi Kole did something completely unprecedented.

*CRACK*

And within seconds, Janitor M found himself being bound and gagged...

Khristain Keller Vs. Hamish Ferguson

  

You knew that your federation was in a bad shape when you couldn't fix up pyro on short notice, so as both Hamish and Keller entered the ring during the commercial break, the absence of pyro and decent music had really given their match that extra edge which made it look like a full on classic.

Neither man looked in any real state for a wrestling match, as Ferguson stood in one corner of the ring with a huge pair of jeans on and a cut off t-shirt with the Loch Ness Monster on the front, as Keller has blue jeans on, and a pair of large brown boots. 

This wasn't going to be a classic. 

As the bout started, Hamish came out of the block very quickly to startle Keller, as Ferguson rammed him into the corner of the ring and clobbered him over the chest with a large slap. Ferguson's huge forearm's made the impact enormous off of Keller's chest as he fell to the mat looking for a breath as the crowd cheered on Ferguson in his first ACW match. Ferguson hammered Keller in the back with an axe-handle before he pulled his opponent to his feet and slugged him to the opposite corner.

Keller reverse the move half way across the ring as he tried to follow up with a clothesline, but big Hamish managed to slither out of the way before Keller smashed his face off of the turnbuckle, before being brought down to the mat with a bang as Ferguson clotheslined him, nearly out of his boots.

1...

2...

Kickout.

Keller got his right shoulder up as Hamish was looking to get this match over quickly as he adjusted his pants and pulled Keller to his feet, but a quick shot to the stomach of Ferguson had him reeling, as Keller then pushed Ferguson into the corner and began to rally at him with right hands, but that was before Hamish forcefully pushed Keller out of the corner and then charged at him as Keller got to his feet.

Keller dropped the big Scot with a drop toe hold as he then grabbed onto Hamish's head with a headlock, as the fans in the arena cheered as Ferguson slowly made his way to his feet, with Keller still holding onto his head. Ferguson pushed Keller off to the ropes and as he came back, Ferguson dropped his head for the monkey flip, instead, Keller royally kicked him in the head with his large boots on, as Ferguson slowly fell back in a heap.

The big Scot was knocked the fuck out!

As blood trickled from Ferguson's forehead, Keller quickly pounded on the chance and pinned one half of the Flying Scotsmen.

1...

2...

3!

And that was all she wrote.

Winner: Khristain Keller

Business? [2]

Suburbia. Where all the innocent people live. Where, at this time, they sleep... waiting for the sun to rise the next morning. So that they can begin making their full-of-love breakfasts. Pancakes. Toast. Orange juice. All that good stuff. Makes you hungry just thinking about it, innit?

This man was hungry, for another reason.

And it seem his hunger had been quenched, as he strolled out the front-door of this particular house, smiling like a true sadist. Why is it that all Irishmen look like sadists when they're smiling? Is it in their genetic make-up, or something? Can't just be a coincidence, yes?

And that bloodcurling scream couldn't have been a coincidence either.

Looking down at his clenched fists, Liam smiled at the blood on it. Fresh blood, it had to be added. Just as he walked past the front yard and into his getaway car, where an unknown bugger was in the driver's seat, the gates of Heaven opened. Rain came falling down on the house that had just witnessed some brutality like never other.

The house registered to Jaime Kenfield.

.... You know, Janitor Howard's last name is Kenfield.

....

Business? What do you think?

Meet-And-Greet Part Three

"Well I'd like to thank you all gentlemen, I hope that we at ACW have shown you that your interest in the company is being used to the fullest and you will get a return from your investment."

As the 5 investors left the arena back into their limo's and cars, Dunn shook their hand one by one to give them a personal, but professional send off, as it looked like he had just saved ACW from losing all their funding for the summer.

As the limo's all began to push off, their was only one man left to come out, and he was the investor whom seemed to be most knowledgeable about the business, as Dunn shook his hand, he couldn't help but comment.

"Thank you for your support back there, I didn't know that any of you actually knew anything about wrestling, I'm sorry but I didn't manage to catch your name during today."

The man chuckled at Dunn's comments.

"It's quite alright Mr. Dunn, you don't have to worry about these guys, all they know is if something is making them money, then it must be good, all you have to do is tell them what they want to hear."

As the man hopped into his limo, Dunn motioned to ask for his name again, but he was too late, the car had already moved off, as SilverHAWK came from the entrance and glared at the limousine. 

"I could swear that I've seen him before...I know I have, any idea who he is?"

Dunn looked at his old friend and smirked.

"Yeah, the man who may have just saved our federation..."

Mind Altering

The camera shifts to see Alias standing in the hallway getting a cup of coffee talking to some of the young wrestlers trying to make it into ACW. Unbeknownst to Alias a set of eyes were watching his every move. Those eyes of course belonged to the man that despised Alias with a passion, Vince Jacobs. Vince started to walk toward a very familiar face from his past, Joe Bishop.

Joe stopped dead in his tracks as he was face to face with his former friend and tag team partner, ‘Superstar’ Vince Jacobs. Vince looked at Joe as the two men was not fond of each other ever since Vince came back to the ACW. Vince tapped Joe on his shoulder as Joe looked at Vince’s hand.

“How’s it going buddy?” Vince said

“What do you want Vince and don’t ever touch me again.” Joe said never taking his eyes off of Vince

“Now is that anyway to treat an old friend and tag team partner. I mean we were best buds and then you, along with Chris stuck a knife in my back. Ahh the old days.” Vince said looking at Joe

Joe holding himself back from hitting SVJ just smiled as he looked at SVJ. “I don’t have time for your games Vince. What do you want?”

“I just wanted to tell you that you and SilverHAWK would not be able to stop me as I destroy your Pulp Hero.” Vince said confidently

“Do what you must Vince but you and I both know that Chris will not go down easily. As I you are aware of.” Joe said

Vince gritted his teeth as Joe started to walk away. Vince spoke to Joe before he got away. “I know he won’t go down easily but he will go down tonight. Mark my words.”

Joe kept walking now knowing what Vince had in mind but he knew it wasn’t good. He knew he had to warn Alias as a friend. Joe continued walking and saw Alias still drinking his coffee socializing with the younger wrestlers. Joe walked over to Alias and tapped him on his shoulder. Alias quickly turned around to see his friend Joe Bishop standing there.

“Hey Joe.. How ya’ doing man?” Alias said extending his hand to his friend

Joe shook his hand as he pulled Alias to the side. “I need to speak with you real quick.”

Alias said goodbye to the other wrestlers who walked away from the table. Alias sat his cup on the table as he and Joe walked a few feet from the table. Both men had there back to the table as Joe looked at Alias.

“I just wanted to warn you that I saw Vince and he has something up his sleeve for tonight. I am not sure what it is but I know his sick mind is working on something.” Joe exclaimed

“Yeah.. He came in my dressing room earlier. I know he is upset that I didn’t tap last week. But if he has something planned it could be anything so I will definitely be alert.” Alias replied

As the two me continued talking Vince Jacobs had snuck over to the table that had Alias’ cup of coffee on it and slip something from a small tube into the cup. It was type of liquid that SVJ poured into that cup but no one could see what it was. Vince quickly ran and hid around the corner as Joe and Alias finished talking.

Joe walked into the opposite direction as Alias went to grab his cup of coffee. Alias drunk some of the coffee from the cup and walked down the hall with the cup in hand. Vince peered from around the corner with a very evil smirk on his face as the camera faded out.

Fun In The Warehouse [3]

So, back to Industria, then. Some people have been really busy on this night, yes?

None more so than Andi & Joey Kole, enjoying their first taste of freedom in one whole week. But what bastards they are, assaulting the man that helped free them in the first place. And what of the British teenagers that held them captive in the warehouse for days?

Locked somewhere in one of the many store-rooms of this vast warehouse.

Janitor Morris, however, was now reliving the pain that both Andi & Joey relived... as he was bound & gagged to a chair, in the middle of the warehouse, bruises all over his body. But if you think that was bad, you're wrong.

If you thought that the Kole Brothers were a bunch of pussies, you're wrong.

Setting a warehouse on fire, with one innocent bystander and several young'uns inside, wasn't exactly going to get Joey & Andi any sort of award, such as the Nobel Peace Prize. But it was showing how fierce they were, and how committed they were to making it in this world on their own.

By any means possible.

So, Morris watched, as flames engulfed the space around him... and he began to fear that maybe... just maybe...

The end for him, was near.

The Hour Of Reckoning

In the boiler-room. A discussion was taking place.

"So, how are we gonna take him down?"

Gabriel So'ialu scratched at his chin and contemplated what answer to give to 006.392, who was starting to get jitters over facing Vincent Pembridge in the ring again. Revenge was driving him ahead, though. He & Vince had been battling for a long time, but what happened last week was the straw that broke his back.

Now, it was time to give a little back. But 006.392 knew that he couldn't go down the same route as he did in the past. Things were different now. The YOTN had learnt a powerful lesson -- revenge evolved from fear. His fear manifested into a quest for revenge. And if he showed how vengeful he was, he was already beaten.

"Just play it cool, I would say. I've never fought him before, but I think I could squash him if I got into my groove. He's a no-talent fucker. He's all power and impact -- he hasn't got any real skill.

This isn't fighting, but he's trying to make it so, simply because it'd suit him better."

006.392 and Damnson nodded, agreeing completely. Janitor Howard looked at his mates, with an icepack on the back of his neck, wondering if this really was the right move to make.

"He's right."

Everybody turned, and looked up at Quinton May, with his arms folded and the wheels in his head turning at full speed.

"Bring the game to him."

BUT.

In the locker-room of the Scorpion of Manchester, a discussion of another kind was taking place. Vincent had suited up, and was waiting for Knickerson to complete his critical pre-match meditation. Finally, Bobby had finished and got off the ground, looking ready to go into battle.

"Tis the hour of reckoning, Bobby. Are ye ready?"

The Phenomenon took a deep intake of breath, and cracked his knuckles, a smile formed on his face.

"YOU BET!"

And it was on. Of course, if you knew the whole story, you'd be more excited.

But for now, wait... and be stunned.

Vincent Pembridge & Bobby Knickerson VS So'ialu & 006.392 & Damnson

  

"Hate Me Now" by Nas began to blare over the speakers, sending the crowd into a state of rapturic ecstacy.

Why?

The good guys were in town.

Gabriel So'ialu led the team down the ramp, with 006.392 & Damnson eating up the response generated for them. Tonight was going to be their night, they thought. Their chance to show just how small & insignificant Vincent Pembridge proved to be. It was an opportunity to rub salt in the wounds of the Scorpion.

As the three-men team rolled into the ring for the handicapped match, Gabriel's theme song was suddenly faded out, as the house lights were brought down a notch. Eventually, it was almost pitch black... with enough lighting left to see what Gabriel & 006 & Damnson were doing in the ring.

Simple enough -- they were waiting for the monster himself.

"Time" by Taproot. Dun Dun DUNNNNNN~!

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. But his partner, Bobby Knickerson, wasn't the most useful wrestler/fighter ever. And the fact that the opposition was a three-men team led by Gabriel So'ialu... the stage was set.

The stage was set for a most possible upset.

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 black 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.

Mainly because of the man that was alongside the Scorpion.

Bobby 'The Phenomenon' Knickerson.

Vincent simply sniggered and tapped the Scorpion Title that was wrapped around his waist, proceeding down the ramp with the also-smiling Bobby Knickerson. The two men were confident of their union, and were ready to unleash hell.

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 & Knickersonslowly walked around the ring before ascending up the steps and onto the ring apron, slowly stepping into the ring. So'ialu & 006.392 & Damnson huddled into a corner, getting involved in a rather animated last-minute discussion. The Scorpion, meanwhile, turned to the section of the crowd which were seated behind the announce team and sneered at them, while Bobby scowled at the opposition.

The crowd showed The British Degenerate 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.

Vincent turned on his heels and smiled at the opposing team, arguing.

Minds.

The bell quickly rung as the lights came back on, and quickly unstrapping his title belt, Vincent Pembridge rushed over to So'ialu... knocking him out of the ring with a clothesline, the power of which saw the Scorpion tumble out of the ring as well. Bobby Knickerson, on the other hand, opted to act fierce and take both 006.392 & Damnson on, with rather powerful punches.

Certainly not the same Knickerson the world was exposed to in thReat. Had the private training sessions actually done some good? Looked like it.

On the outside, Gabriel had clocked Vincent with an exquisite uppercut, sending the latter flying down to the ground, his bald head almost making contact with the steel steps. Vince was back to his feet within a flash, however, and ducked a wild swing from So'ialu... retaliating with a spinning northern-lights suplex-slam, slamming the dreadlocked monster down to the concrete.

Back in the ring, the referee was trying his hardest to regain control of the match, as Knickerson floored Damnson with a face buster, after shocking 006.392 with a spinning heel kick. Bobby was on fire now, and with Vincent Pembridge rolling back into the ring with a chair he'd found under the ring... it sorta foretold the mayhem that was about to ensue.

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

That's how much they hated the man, but the Manucian didn't care. Instead, he advanced on 006.392 and sneered at him, before raising the chair over his head, ready to knock the YOUTH OF THE NATION out. However, Bobby stopped Vincent from doing so, by yanking the chair out of his hands.

The crowd was stunned.

And so was Vincent Pembridge.

Before Knickerson notioned that he wanted to be the one that cracked the steel over 006's head. Vincent smiled and nodded his head, proud that his protégé had been actually learning, and doing a good job at it. The fans started to hiss and scream again, even more furious and loathsome now.

Bobby raised the chair over his head...

*CRACK*

....

And clocked Vincent Pembridge with it.

....

WHAT?!

....

You read correctly.

By now, the fans had exploded into cheers the volume of which was almost unheard of. Was this a set-up?

Damnson recovered almost magically, and so did 006.392, who traded high-fives with Knickerson. So'ialu, who'd caught everything on the Tron, smiled and rolled back into the ring, as giddy as a school-girl. It appeared as if it was a set-up, as all four men cornered the Scorpion Of Manchester... fists clenched.

And as if to emphasize that it really all was a devious plot, "Smoke Two Joints" by Sublime began to play over the system.

....

Quinton May, ladies and gentlemen. With a microphone.

"Surprised, Vincent? Don't be. Because, as of now, Bobby Knickerson is the newest member of Quinton's Army!!

Now, how's that for a swerve, eh?

Have a nice night, Mr Pembridge. You sodding cunt!"

And with that, May tossed the microphone away, as a signal to his troops & Gabriel So'ialu to begin the demolition of the British Degenerate. And without any hesitation, all four men unleashed kicks and punches doused in hate... they were passionate about this beatdown.

And so were the crowd.

On this night, Bobby Knickerson had entered his name into the history books, as the Trojan horse nobody saw coming.

Spoils of war, people. Spoils of war.

Winner: No Contest

… And Now…Your Fucked.

His world spun… it was a kaleidoscope of distorted pictures and fucked up shit. Alias tried to find his feet under him as he stumbled against the walls of his locker room. He grasped for something to keep his balance but all his groping fingers could find where smooth surfaces as his body slid from the wall… to the floor.

Damn… damnasshelldamn. Get up, get up. What the fuck is wrong with me. Why the fuck won’t my body work. Get the hell up!

Alias slowly pushed himself to his hands his knees. His elbows shock, almost willing themselves to buckle under his wait… his will was stronger at the moment however. His mind was still somehow coherent, as his body slowly shut itself down.

How the hell did this happen? When the hell did this fuckin happen? The coffee? Was it that god-damned cup of coffee? Fuck… I only took my eyes off it for a second… but I didn’t even see that bastard. His bags didn’t make it here either… I thought he would have just picked up and left. Fuck… god fuckin dammit the bastard drugged me.

Alias finally crawled over to the nearest bench and slowly began pulling himself up to it, trying to get his feet under him to support a body that was beginning to get heavier and heavier. He lifted his head for a moment and cracked open both eyes to see a distorted view of the room as it swooped in and out around him.

Suddenly a figure came into view and Alias lifted a hand up, it could only be one man… he had to protect himself somehow. The figure simply pushed Alias off of the bench with a swift kick to his side. Alias crumpled to the floor… he swung his head up to look up at his assailant.

As his mind swirled into darkness, his vision cleared for just a moment. The last thing that Alias saw before blacking out was…

“Superstar” Vince Jacobs… smiling.