- - [June 29th 2003] - -
Broadcasting LIVE! from Chicago, Illinois at 10/9 p.m. CT

PREVIOUSLY... The road to GLORY takes it's penultimate stop as a federation in clear strife. Since last weeks show, it has become knowledge to Dunn and Boyd that 4 out of the 5 investors have pulled out, the one remaining being the mysterious man whom SilverHAWK has supposedly had previous links with. A federation in financial chaos, no Television Champion and no World Champion...just another boring show then?

Sparing Nobody [1]

The previous week had turned out to be absolute chaos for Quinton May, and his little gang.

On one hand, he'd managed to pull one over his newest enemy and in the process, drafted a new recruit to HIS Army. On the whole, the previous week highlighted just how resourceful & crafty the red-haired Canadian was, and the belief he had in his troops to actually pull the double-cross off without any hitches. Bobby Knickerson, an ally of Vincent Pembridge for months, had finally defected over to the good (and cooler) team.

But as Quinton walked down the gravel pathway that led to the arena entrance, he reflected on the shocking revelations elsewhere. The motel room of El Janitors being blown apart, Howard's family being attacked, Morris trapped in an wall of inferno...

It all seemed to suggest that Lady Luck wasn't always helping out the good people.

Shaking his head, Quincy glanced at his watch. The taxi-driver had taken many a wrong turn and gotten stuck in a traffic pile-up. Hence, the late arrival. His troops were anxiously waiting for their leader, for a whole new night of scheming and plotting. With one week away from Glory, the tension generated was unimaginable.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, someone charged at Quinton and knocked him down to the ground. The Dictator let out a surprised yell, and soon found his torso being stomped, with a vengeance. The attacker seemed familiar -- big, tall, bald, goatee, black armband around the right bicep, those beady eyes...

It could have only been one person. One malevolent and callous human being.

"All's fair in love and war, Quinton. I'm sparing nobody here, it's time to change the landscape, for good. No more pathetic games where the reward is of negligent importance.

There's bigger fish at stake now, mate."

Aye, you've got it. The one, the only -- Vincent Pembridge.

Sprawled out on the pathway, Quinton May tried to think of a way to defend himself from the stiff kicks of the Scorpion. A swing of his blue duffel bag seemed to work, throwing Vincent off-balance and sending him staggering away. Quincy slowly rose to his feet, despite the pain that now existed within his body, and advanced towards Vincent. However, the British Degenerate was secretly smiling, for as the second the red-haired Canadian got close...

He ceased playing possum and clocked May out with one of the most powerful left hooks seen in history. Instantly, Quinton slumped down to the ground, his nose broken, and his consciousness fading. The Scorpion Of Manchester cackled maniacally, as he towered over Quincy's almost lifeless body, and sneered at his rival.

"It's always been this way, hasn't it, Quinton?

I always win, you always lose."

Having said his piece, Vincent swaggered away hurriedly, towards the arena. With the night just getting started for him, he had indirectly given more evidence to support the claims & rumours that the war between the two had possibly begun many years ago, even beyond the Canadian's memory.

Interesting times beckoning in the ACW. Especially with the Dictator of QA passing out right outside the arena on the eve of a massive PPV event. And the fact that several British teenagers were in the area, hoping to prevent any medical attention from reaching May added fuel to the fire. Which, of course, begs the question.

Who's next?

Excuse Me...What's Your Name?

It was a totally different Charlie Dunn this week. Gone was the suit, tie and newly polished shoes. Back was the blue jeans, boots, and blue YSL shirt. As Dunn stood outside of the arena, he could feel a little deja vu coming on as a limo backed up to within 5 feet of the ACW Co-Owner.

Once again, the man with no name stepped out of the white stretch, as he shook hands with Dunn as they began to walk to the arena.

"So...it looks like I'm the only one left now?"

"Yea...it looks like the other guys had a serious case of the whimper tail."

"Yes, well, I'll guarantee that if we can get a few things sorted out tonight, I'll have you a fresh new batch of investors, based of the fact that I'll be trying to help out as much as I can."

Dunn's face lit up as he watched the man open the door for him, to which he complied with a small head tipping gesture as he moved through the door.

"That would be great Mr..." Dunn said. All in all it would a sly tactic to try and retrieve the man's name, something which had escaped him the past week since the meeting of the investors just last week.

"Carter...Brian Carter."

Dunn smiled.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Carter, shall we get started?"

Sparing Nobody [2]

Entering the premises of the arena, Gabriel So'ialu was understandably cautious. Last week, he'd assisted in the double-cross of Vincent Pembridge, following weeks of the rivalry brewing. Seeing how it festered from a little taunting on the part of the dreadlocked monster, the state of the feud currently was frightening.

It was about to get worse.

Walking down the hallway, Gabriel knew that the Scorpion would be out for blood. The method was unknown, but the principle objective behind it was still the same. It didn't matter HOW Vincent did it. It was simple as Gabriel having to evade the Scorpion Champion, and fend off his lackeys. But maybe, when unable to get inside the arena a few weeks ago, Vincent was actually sending an indirect message to So'ialu.

Enter the compound of the Degenerate... at your own risk.

With each step, So'ialu scanned the surroundings. It was eeriely quiet. TOO eeriely quiet. The dreadlocked monster, also a part of the upstart cWf promotion, knew that something was amiss. Were the teenagers that had pledged their lives to Pembridge's cause around the corner, waiting to pounce?

He was half correct.

Vincent Pembridge appeared from behind a corner and clocked Gabriel So'ialu in the head with his Scorpion Title, knocking the big man down to the ground. Wasting no time, the Manucian Predator quickly unleashed a flurry of kicks at the temple of the man that dared to stand up to him, as a horde of British teenagers flocked to the scene, ready to do their leader's bidding. Stopping the assault for a while, the fighter formerly known as Jakks motioned for his troops to drag Gabriel's limp body down the corridor.

So, they did.

Backstage officials came running onto the scene at the same time, but Vincent had it all planned. His lackeys began carting Gabriel away, towards the boiler room, while the Scorpion started to tear apart the backstage officials that thought that they could possibly control the situation. How wrong they were, as one by one, they flew down to the concrete... a part of their anatomy and their self-esteem crushed.

It was Vincent Pembridge at his own maniacial.

But there was to be a twist, that even Vince couldn't have anticipated. Not that he was worrying over it.

Quinton May had dragged his beaten carcass into the building and with his clothes ripped to shreds, he ran at Vincent. Who cursed, knowing that the bunch of British teenagers he'd assigned to take care of Quincy hadn't done their job at all. Really, they were just supposed to ensure that nobody could offer the Dictator of QA any assistance of any sort.

Life's unpredictable; sue God.

"Stupid cunt," Vincent muttered under his breath, as he lunged forward, taking Quincy Mama out with a single clothesline. The prior damage inflicted upon Quinton was harsh enough, but the Brit was figuring that if the red-haired freak wanted to have another round... he was up for it.

So, he picked poor Quinton up and smashed his right kneecap into the face of the Dictator of QA.

Following which, he sidekicked the bugger in the chest.

Sending May soaring through the air, and into a wall, creating a bloody hole in it. Seconds later, the British teenagers that were stationed outside came rushing back inside.

"Finish him off."

The order was given, and Quinton's fate was sealed. For all his heart and tenacity, it seemed as if this time... there was no way out of the predicament. And the fact that his gang had no idea their leader was even in the building yet made things all the more damning for the poor Canadian.

Meanwhile, So'ialu was thrown into the boiler-room... where several 7'0" African-American men were waiting.

With weapons.

Theme of the night -- spare nobody.

Changing Lanes

"No sir...still no sign of him."

"OK..."

It was the usual surrounding for Dante Inferno; an empty room which didn't even inhabit light until someone opened the door, but as Inferno sat on his locker room bench, taping his wrists, he watched the people outside buzz around, as his door was wide open. He had a match with Dubbs' accomplish in crime soon, 108192 and he wanted to make sure that he sent out a clear message to Dubbs, even though he wasn't even here tonight.

"How is it going...champ?"

Dante looked up as Joe Bishop leaned against the door with folded arms.

"I'm not your champion...yet."

"Ahhh...big talk...from a big man, you know something Dante, one thing has always made me question you. It's not your talent or your power, hell I seen those matches with Jason Kain with my own two eyes, there was no rigging of that wall when you put him through it, nor was there any special lighting when you fought him in that fire cage. 

You know what it is Dante?

Hunger."

Dante continued to wrap his forearms and wrists as Bishop spoke, and after a short pause, Dante nodded, as Bishop continued.

"We all know that this wasn't your given profession, hell, does anyone know what your actual profession is Dante? Except you? But you have to look at it in the long run man, you can sit here in the dark and feel sorry for yourself, or you can start living this life. You could be a TV Champion...you could be a US Champion...you could be a Scorpion Champion...hell, I bet you could probably walk home with that World Title one day, but what you have to ask yourself is...do you want to?"

As Bishop left the locker room, he closed the door as Inferno sat in his locker room, alone, wondering what the next 7 days will do to his way of life.

Quinton Army's Meeting #015

"So, is Quincy here?"

"No idea, 006.392... but dagnabbit... I want to know if the match is definitely set up for tonight. I want to get my hands on Liam for what he did to Jaime. Nobody lays a hand on my daughter and her family and gets away with it! NOBODY!"

Now, the boiler-room was apparently not available for usage. We all know why, by now. The gang going by the name of Quinton's Army, sans the leader, don't know. They've been told that the boiler-room's out of bounds. So, the next best place would be the Treatment Room, where Janitor Morris is getting checked by the doctor's to see if he is fit for competition.

Following the mayhem in the industrial area of Milwaukee last week, where Morris was trapped inside a burning warehouse, the tall and freakish janitor managed to escape with his life. Not with several burn wounds and such. He'd spent five days in the hospital, and only barely managed to meet up with the rest of the group for Courage on this night. An end to a horrifying week for El Janitors, with their personal lives being invaded.

By the team known as .vindication; slowly making themselves known as Those Evil Bastards.

Bobby Knickerson sighed, as he looked at Damnson. The latter shrugged his shoulders and began scratching his nose furiously. The fact that Damnson had managed to remain a mystery to all was quite interesting... and Howard looked on, somewhat attracted by the manner in which Damnson performed his scratching.

"SO Knickerson, you learnt much while training with Damnny and 006 this week?"

Bobby nodded his head and smiled, before trading a silent high-five with the YOUTH OF THE NATION. With Quinton juggling between caring for Morris and resting from his own little illness, and Howard spending time with his attacked family... the three youngsters of the group had nothing to do.

So, they trained.

"FREAKING OUCH!"

Everybody turned to look at Morris, as the physician wrapped a bandage around his right wrist. Morris looked very forlorn and incensed at the same time. The circumstances of the rescue operation last week couldn't have been anticipated at all, and Janitor M felt very cheated. He went there to save Andi & Joey Kole.

And in return? They almost killed the bugger, by torching the warehouse... after subjecting Morris to the same treatment they'd endured. Hardly fair, but life was never fair to begin with. Morris would know that, considering the life he's lived.

The physician muttered a soft apology, and everybody went back to waiting around. Janitor H was simply waiting on confirmation on whether his request to take on Liam would be granted, seeing how he'd gotten word that his daughter Jaime's condition was improving. Bobby & 006 & Damnson, on the other hand, were waiting for So'ialu -- although not a member of the Army -- and Quinton himself to show up.

Janitor M was waiting for approval to be cleared to stay in the arena.

"Sorry Morris, I'm afraid that with these results, you're ordered to return to your hotel or whatever. You're not quite in the condition to compete tonight, and I'd advise you to rest for the next two weeks, for your wounds to completely heal. The two third-degree burns on your legs still haven't cleared up.

So, no chance for a match tonight."

Morris glared at the physician, breathing very heavily. Howard sensed the ground tremble, before his eyes widened. He knew what was gonna happen next. So did 006.392, but Knickerson & Damnson didn't; they couldn't, as they were now engrossed in a little activity that entailed the counting of teeth.

Howard & the YOTN looked at each other and nodded, before ducking.

"FREEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKKKINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGG FUCCCCCCCCCK!" Janitor M screamed.

And then, all hell broke loose. Well, all he did was simply storm out of the room.

A sign of things to come? Not really, I just don't know how to end this.

....

I'm sowwy. :(

Sparing Nobody [3]

Remember last week? Janitor Howard versus Drake Nefarian? After Drake trampled all over Howard, a bunch of janitors came out to beat up on the Boxin' Sensation? Yeah, those janitors were asked by their dear friends, Howard & Morris, to help them out in a little side-project.

Naturally, Drake Nefarian was slightly embarrased. 

Wait, understatement.

He was majorly ashamed. 

Him, the Hired Hitman. The Middle-Eastern Gladiator Supremo. The Boxin' Sensation. Cornered and bashed up by a bunch of janitors. All over the age of forty-five. With their dentures and ear hair and nosehair... and stinky breath.

So, Drake conferred with Vincent Pembridge. And after Vince let fly with a verbal bashing of epic proportions, the British Degenerate suggested that .vindication follow the theme laid down for the week -- spare nobody. A war consists of many several factors, and all of them are crucial.

If they've been used to inflict damage, means they too can be used to inflict damage UPON.

The setting, then, being the backstage area. The same group of janitors, all six of them, sitting in their locker-room. Discussing sports, women, the weather. It was their official breaktime, and they had about five minutes more to enjoy life, before returning to the menial and unenviable tasks of keeping the arena absolutely dirt-free.

Then, the door to their room got kicked down.

"Payback, cunts."

Who else?

Nope, not Vincent Pembridge. Rather, his right-hand man. And the hired assasin. Liam and Drake Nefarian.

..vindication, ladies and gentlemen. And on the night, their challenge was to mimic a demolition crew to the best of their abilities. Wouldn't be hard, considering the past both men have lived through.

Screams and cries for mercy rang out from the locker-room as the door was slammed shut, but all that could be heard following that were hard packing sounds. Obviously, the demolition job was underway, and it came with one simple message -- mess with the British Army, and be prepared to drown in the backlash.

Revenge is oh-so-sweet. Especially when you're planning to spare nobody.

Not a single soul at all.

Dante Inferno Vs. 108192

  

“I Stand Alone” by Godsmack.

The anthem, which could only mean that the monster of ACW, Dante Inferno was on his way. It was a strange reception for him in the last few ACW shows, as he had been...cheered. A few "smarks" had placed it down to his program with A*Dubbs which had been going on the last month, but a lot of people said that he was receiving a kind of Brock Lesnar pop, in which although he was portrayed as evil, people respected him for his talent...and his heart.

Inferno appeared at the top of the ramp as the fans gave him his "pop", to which he showed no reaction to, unlike previous weeks. Inferno made his way up the ramp but he noticed a sudden change in the mood of the crowd as he was walking, so as he stopped and turned around, he was too late as A*Dubbs had rushed down the ramp, with 108192 and attacked him from behind with a steel chair.

Inferno rolled down the ramp as the crowd screamed abuse at Dubbs and 108192, who didn't seem to care one bit as Dubbs barked orders at 108192 to get Inferno and put him in the ring. 108192 pulled Inferno to his feet and pushed him into the ring, as Inferno held his back in pain, Dubbs slid into the ring and began to stamp in the #1 contender for his US title, before 108192 joined him in the ring.

Dubbs told 108192 to stop, as he watched Inferno lie on the mat.

"Get up bitch!"

108192 and Dubbs laughed as Inferno dug his fingers into the mat and pushed himself up. Breathing heavily, he stood upright in a sheer sign of defiance to Dubbs and 108192, but before long, Dubbs had Inferno back down on the mat as he smashed him in the head with the steel chair, Inferno's head busting open on impact. As Inferno fell back on the mat, he rubbed his forehead as crimson poured from his cut, that was before Dubbs got right in the face of Inferno as he shouted at him, before leaving a memento on Inferno's face with a large wad of spit.

As Dubbs and 108192 left the ring, they stood at the top of the ramp and lifted their arms for some cheap heat, they had come here for one reason and that was to make sure that Inferno wasn't 100% for his match this Sunday against Dubbs, and that they had done, but as they turned around to make their way back, they couldn't help but hear the screams from the crowd.

And as they turned around, Inferno, stood in the middle of the ring, upright and waiting.

He was not an easy man to put down.

Winner: No Contest

The 107th Try

El Emenopi looked down the hall at the two security guards blocking the way. He had already tried one hundred and six different attempts at getting into the arena… and yet these two hadn’t budged from their spots. El rubbed his head from attempt number 97…

Phasing through the wall.

Obviously, the human body was not made to walk through walls… and El’s was especially not made to do it head-first. He never knew that brick could be so steadfast. He looked at the two huge men in their black, yellow and blue ACW Security uniforms, then smiled. The first security guard looked back at the second, who nodded, then turned toward El as he started his new charge.

…

…

…

El Emenopi tried to Matrix walk.

…

…

…

The guards looked with amazement as El stepped sideways onto the wall and tried to walk… then fell on his side with a thud.

Thirty feet away from them.

El Emenopi looked up at the two guard who just looked at him with pitiful expressions. He tried to smile again as he climbed back to his feet. Now his side AND his head hurt badly.

This was going to be a long day.

An Apology? Nope, Not From Us!

"I am here, backstage, aiming to get an interview with one of the newest teams in the All-Star Championship Wrestling. Hello folks, my name is Haggis Stempel, and in my debut stint as an ACW backstage interviewer, I aim to converse with The Kole Brothers. Whom, last week, apparently endured a terrible ordeal following a kidnapping by the lackeys of one Mr Vincent Pembridge.

The police have denied any such kidnapping, and even gone on to say that the abuse Joey Kole & Andi Kole received -- while inflicted by a group of hooliganic British teenagers -- were self-inflicted! Obviously, corruption in this country is at an all-time high, but it doesn't matter now, because nobody was hurt.

Oh, here they come! Andi & Joey, ladies and gentlemen! THE KOLE BROTHERS!"

From the direction of the catering area, Joey & Andi appeared, deep in the midst of discussion. Both men were wearing black t-shirts and blue jeans, and still looked a little shaken up from the trauma that they had undergone. More importantly, however, the two brothers no longer looked happy-go-lucky. It was as if they'd matured, and now wore scowls on their faces. Scowls that underlined how seriously they were taking this little career called tag team wrestling.

However, they also appeared displeased that they were being approached for an impromptu interview. Maybe they didn't feel like talking? Or maybe the brothers were simply drained from the events of the past weeks? In any case, Andi & Joey didn't look too impressed with Haggis Stempel and his beaming smile.

"Andi, being the older brother, could you shed some light on the situation that transpired in the warehouse last week? And do you have an apology to offer to Janitor Morris, seeing how he actually did try to save you, from what I heard? Also, what action are you planning to take against .vindication, whom I assume where behind your kidnapping and the torture you and your brother experienced?"

Andi sniggered, and grinned as he leaned in to answer, while Joey folded his arms.

"An apology? Nope, not from us!

Okay, what we did was really screwed up. But we've learnt in our short time in the ACW that times are changing. This industry isn't quite the same as it used to be. And with people like Vincent Pembridge around, the whole point of the industry has gone down the drain. Now, it's all about power... it's all about greed. It's about the survival of the fittest.

And we're gonna do anything it takes to survive. Not to look tough or whatever. But to prove that we're not pushovers. And also, to make sure that we can put food on the table. Outside of wrestling, there's real life. Bills to pay, food to eat. We don't prove our worth, we don't get the big bucks!

Simple as that."

Haggis seemed slightly taken aback by the reply of the older Kole brother, and some scattered jeers could be heard in the background. But as they grew louder, certain sections of the crowd -- watching this on the ACWtron -- started to cheer. The brutal honesty of the Kole Brothers was something that appealed to the,.

And now, Joey Kole had something to add, it seemed.

"Morris actually did help us get into the ACW, along with Howard. But help shouldn't stop when you've began to become popular. We asked the Janitors for help a few weeks ago, and they played dumb, thinking we wanted sex. That showed to us that such a thing as kindness doesn't exist in this industry!

If we're gonna prove to everyone that we're not to be taken lightly, we've got to forget about any alliances or friends. Because the only friend I need is my brother. All the other people out there are enemies in the making.

And that's all we've got to say. There are matches to get ready for."

With that said, The Kole Brothers left the area, having earned the respect of some people... and the disgust of others. Their mindsets and outlooks had evolved at an alarming rate, leaving Stempel stunned at what he'd just had to listen to. Of course, there was one little tidbit that interested him.

Matches to get ready for?

By A Thread

"Well...this is weird."

The crowd cheered as SilverHAWK stood in the middle of the ring at the start of the Courage broadcast. The Chicago natives definitely liked their HAWK and as he paced around the ring looking for the chance to speak, they drowned him out with cheers and applause, something that the ACW-Faithful would never forget was HAWK's days as a wrestler, which now seem to be over.

"Last week, was a strange one. Delays and crappy airport staff meant that we only had three matches on the card, but this week, we have more than doubled it. If I had to sum ACW at the moment in one word, it would be...weird, but I guess that's just the whole feeling in the industry at the moment.

You have low ticket sales, federations competing with the WWE, you have a bunch of fighters invading the industries second biggest federation, and then you have the biggest fighting federation looking to go down the tubes. Then...you have ACW."

HAWK looked up as he took a pause from his words, the ACW fans got to their feet as it seemed that they believed ACW truly belonged around those federations he had just mentioned.

"So what do we have in ACW then? No champion? No money? No light at the end of the tunnel?"

The fans sat silent.

"No...we have heart!"

Big Pop!

"You see, we are never gonna let this federation die, and the resuscitation starts this Sunday at Glory! For the vacant TV Title, we will have an over the top rope, thirty minute Battle Royal to decipher a new champion in the ranks. The TV Title has been held by only three men, ICU, Scott Perry and Alias, it's now time for someone else to get their hands on it. Now...I'm sure that some of you have heard the rumours about ACW's next PPV, King of Ages?

Well...King of Ages will be the setting for two very important matches, only one of which I am going to tell you right now. King of Ages will be the culmination of a seven week tournament. A tournament which will make a new #1 contender for the ACW World heavyweight Championship, a title that is held very close to my heart, but I can hear what you are saying, "who will be the champion though?"

Well..."

"Who really gives a crap?"

SilverHAWK stopped as he looked up the ramp, as Khristain Keller began to walk out from the back, with a microphone in his hand. Keller has quickly become a bit of a star in ACW, as he was a promising one in aWc, but now that he had found a permanent home, is seemed that he liked to cause that little bit of trouble.

"You see...I have a small problem with tonight's card, and after telling someone, I was told you come and see you, and what a better time to come and see you to talk out my problem huh?"

"What do you want Keller?"

"You see, last week you put me in a match against big ol' Hamish, and after beating him, you put me up against the midget one this week, which I have no problem with what so ever, but here is the issue. I'm out of the contract, therefore, I can't wrestle against this little guy tonight unless you want some sort of lawsuit on your hands, infact, I actually shouldn't even be out here tonight, nobody knows what kind of legal minefields that I've just entered after walking through that curtain."

"OK, Keller, what do you want me to do?"

"You're a smart man HAWK, you know that all I want is a contract, and I'll even play by your rules and half my current wage so that I can have a full time contract?"

HAWK seemed to like that idea, and looked to answer Keller but K² cut him off.

"But...I want an iron clad contract. I know the little troubles that you are having here, and I want a contract that states that it can't be terminated unless both parties agree, sounds fair enough to me, since I'm taking a pay cut and all."

HAWK shook his head.

"I don't like the sound of that Keller, that means you can do anything you want."

Keller smirked, as he shrugged his shoulders and dropped his mic, as he fished a young boy out of the crowd and promptly picked him up by his ankle, before tangling him off the stage. As women screamed at the top of their lungs, the young boy dangled from Keller's grip, as he motioned that his arm was becoming sore.

"OK Keller! Put that boy down!"

Keller shrugged, as he let the boy slip through his fingers an inch, before grabbing him again and pulling him up.

"Keller, put that boy the fuck down, you have your contract!"

K² laughed as he dropped the boy on the mat, before picking him up and putting him back on his seat, as his mother quickly grabbed him as they rushed off. Keller shrugged and raised his fist in the air, as the boo's echoed through the arena, Keller walked off as he winked at HAWK, who stood in the middle of the ring, wondering why they hired him in the first place.

Drake Nefarian Vs. Janitor Morris Vs. Andi Kole

     

"Clocks" by Coldplay.

Courage had returned from its commercial break, and the theme song that was playing seemed to support the words of one Andi Kole, who'd claimed that he & his brother had matches to get prepared for. Nobody in the crowd knew what he was talking about, but the announcer had just revealed that a Triple-Threat Match was to be underway shortly.

Who were Andi's opponents? That little fact wasn't revealed.

Appearing behind the curtains, Andi stormed down the ramp, grinning ever so slightly. He was still dressed in a black t-shirt with blue jeans and black boots. The audience were undecided on their perception of Andi, so half jeered and the other half cheered. The negative overshadowed the positive by just a bit, however.

Sliding into the ring, Andi Kole immediately summoned for a microphone to be passed to him. And the ring announcer had no qualms about doing so. The heat generated by the crowd simmered down, once they realised that the older of the Kole Brothers had something to say. Something to get off his chest, and something to make known to the rest of the watching world.

"Alright, so SilverHAWK tells me that he thought it'd be fun to see me & Janitor Morris & Drake Nefarian in a Triple-Threat Match, considering the problems we've had over the past couple of weeks. I actually think it's a good idea. I mean, I'm sure you must be pissed at what my brother and I did to you, Morris. And it's always fun to get into a fight with a guy that got whacked up by a bunch of sissy and oldie janitors.

So, yeah. Let's get the show on the road!"

Andi threw the microphone out of the ring and got himself into a boxing stance, somewhat mimicking Nefarian, the hired killer to The British Army. After several seconds of staring at the stage, the older Kole brother finally got his wish, and the crowd exploded into a round of massive cheers.

Without any theme music, Janitor Morris charged out from the back. Defying the orders from the physician to NOT compete. With fury in his eyes, the FREAKING one rolled into the ring and ducked a clothesline attempt from Andi Kole, before knocking him out of the ring with one single punch.

The crowd went hysterical.

"MORRIS ROCKS ASS!"

*CLAP-CLAP CLAP-CLAP-CLAP*

"MORRIS ROCKS ASS!"

*CLAP-CLAP CLAP-CLAP-CLAP*

"MORRIS ROCKS ASS!"

*CLAP-CLAP CLAP-CLAP-CLAP*

Morris grinned sadistically, as Andi writhed about on the ground outside, his jaw having been absolutely dented by Janitor M. The latter was now getting an adrenaline surge, with the crowd's support making him slightly dizzy. Taking a risk, Morris showed great agility in jumping to the top of a turnbuckle, before leaping off... with an elbow-drop that almost crushed Andi's sternum!

"HOLY FREAKING SHIT!"
"HOLY FREAKING SHIT!"
"HOLY FREaKING SHIT!"
"HOLY FREAKING SHIT!"

The FREAKING One was getting one of the loudest ovations in ACW history at the moment, although the move took quite a bit out of him as well, seeing how he was barely even at 70% of his fitness. Nevertheless, after catching a breather, Morris got back to his feet and pulled Andi up, spitting at the older Kole brother before tossing him into the ring.

With Drake Nefarian, the third party in this match, still nowhere to be found.

That didn't deter Janitor Morris from sliding back into the squared circle and making the immediate cover, with Andi Kole still motionless following the sucidal flying elbow drop;

ONE...

TWO...

TH...

No chance, as Andi managed to save himself the embarrasement and kicked out. Morris didn't look frustrated or anything; he simply picked the youngster up and kicked him in the ribs, before connecting with a forearm shot that sent AK flying into the corner turnbuckle. Stuck there, Andi winced in pain, his spine having made some impact with the turnbuckle. But that didn't matter to Janitor Morris.

It was squashin' time.

The FREAKING One ran, and emitted an almighty warcry, as he attempted to crush Andi in the corner. The older of the two Kole brothers, however, managed to jump out of the way... causing Morris to crash into the turnbuckle. His upper-body absorbed most of the impact, but turning around, Morris walked right into a beautiful standing dropkick from Andi Kole.

And then, the quick cover;

ONE...

TWO...

TH...

A combination of a kick-out from Morris and a kick to the back of Andi's head by Drake Nefarian ensured that the match continued. Nefarian, who'd raced down the ramp, was looking calm and collected. And he even smiled as he pulled Andi up by the collar of his t-shirt.

Following up with a close-range jab to the face, that probably ensured that Andi Kole would need reconstructive surgery on his nose sometime in the future.

Morris, on the other hand, stumbled to his feet admist the dizziness... and spinning around, he managed to block a left hook from the Hired Hitman, retaliating with a profound kick to his right thigh and following up with a right jab to Drake's face. But it hardly fazed the latter, who tricked Janitor M with two soft jabs to his chest...

Which set up the knockout blow; a right cross-hook to his jaw, knocking the QA member off his feet.

Andi had recovered by then, and whipped himself off the ropes, charging at The Middle-Eastern Gladiator Supremo at top speed. It was in vain, though, seeing how Nefarian effortlessly managed to sidestep Andi and guide him out of the ring, by tossing him over the top rope.

With that done, and the crowd's hissing increasing in volume, Drake made the slack cover;

ONE...

TWO...

THREE.

It was easy as that. "Pity" by Drowning Pool started up over the speakers, and Drake Nefarian climbed out of the ring. There was no post-match celeberation from him. Hell, he didn't even look entirely happy with the victory. It was a very strange match, to say the least, and its end had come rather quickly.

That didn't mean an end to the war was in sight.

Oh heeeeeell no.

Winner: Drake Nefarian

So Very Stupid

"SilverHAWK!"

The door to his office kicked open, and caused HAWK to look up from the paperwork he was drowned it. Frowning, he quickly took a gulp of his three-day-old coffee. He'd have to be slightly more alert when dealing with the crafty bugger. Many a time in the past, HAWK had been insulted by this man. But today, the ACW legend knew that he'd have a chance to fire back with some verbal bashing of his own.

Vincent Pembridge was asking for it. Well, ask... and ye shall receive.

"Yeah, whaddaya want, Vincent?"

The Scorpion approached the desk of the boss and placed his clenched fists down onto the table, before smiling at HAWK. Vincent enjoyed making fun of SilverHAWK's many shortcomings and the decisions he made in the best interest of the federation. But there was no time for wisecracks from the Brit; he'd important business to tend to. He'd already done enough on the night, and without an official meeting with his troops before the show.

"Alright, I've been checking up on the ACW website quite a bit over the last week. Noticed an online poll, where people seem to think that I would be the best choice to pick up the bloody vacant Television Title. I can't deny that it'd be my honour to hold such a title, because I'm bloody great and all.

So, when do I get it? Now? Tomorrow? I'd really like it as soon as possible, due to the fact that I'd be able to pawn it before the bloody shop closes down for good. I only trust one pawn shop, seeing how the owner's a mate of mine, and he'll get me the best prices."

SilverHAWK blinked, trying to contain his laughter. Vincent was actually serious about everything he'd said, and thus, he frowned when HAWK begin to giggle, as the boss leaned back in his chair. Stroking his beard, the ACW legend contemplated an answer...

Before an idea formed in that devious mind of his.

"Very interesting. You brought up some good points, and yeah, it seems you're getting over with some people, despite your fucking shitty attitude to things around here. So, my answer is...

NO.

Instead, you've got a fight tonight. For your oh-so-precious-and-really-important Scorpion Title. I regret even being the one that was behind its existence, but tonight, there's gonna be a slight spin on things. Tonight, you fight three people, within the confines of a Steel Cage. Knickerson, 006.392, and that weirdo Damnson. All three of them have to escape to win, and if they do, the Scorpion Title is nullified.

Now, fuck off."

Vincent Pembridge growled, and actually thought of diving across the table, to get his hands on the man that had just outsmarted him. However, the Scorpion of Manchester decided that he had something better in mind. Something that would require a couple of weeks to see the light of day. But it would end up being absolutely fulfilling.

Smiling, the callous fighter stormed out of HAWK's office, actually pleased with what he'd been booked to do.

SilverHAWK was none the wiser of what he'd done... and soon, he'd find out why he was so stupid.

So very stupid.

Business

"If you look at the numbers here, we aren't too far off the best of them. I think if you look at our talent, you'll see that we don't have the major draws apart from a few, but the summer will be used to make sure that by the Winter, you'll know who Alias is, or Jason Kain or a Dante Inferno."

Carter looked at the proposed plan, impressed by the measures in which the company were taking to ensure their safety. It seemed like for every problem, the ACW staff had a counter-measure, something or some plan which would change their problem into a benefit for the federation, if it worked however.

"So what does the network say about this?"

"They're willing to stay with us. Even though they have RAW, TNN or Spike TV, whatever you wanna call it, has room for a small federation on the Sunday night, they're saying that the more wrestling they have on their station, the better the RAW ratings will get. Which I guess can only help TNN right?"

"Yeah, if WWE is happy, TNN is happy I guess. Look, what we have to do is make sure that we have a core nucleus of talent for the summer, because we all know that the summertime is the one of the biggest times for Pro-Wrestling. Kids don't have school so they go to more shows, buy more stuff and watch more TV, DVDs and videos. So we have to get them to start recognizing the faces, we've gotta push talent. Who do you suggest?"

Dunn pondered his list of talent, as he marked the names whom he thought could become the faces of ACW, before passing the list to Carter.

"OK...Alias, Inferno, Kain, Osyrus and Jacobs, sounds good, but what about Dubbs?"

"He's got a pinched nerve in his neck, he'll be going for an op after Glory, I think we have a lot of maybes at the moment, guys whom we've really got to see going first before we can push them. We've gotta see how the fans like guys like Arson, So'ialu and so forth."

Carter nodded his head as he looked down at the list once more.

"What about Keller?"

"Ahhh..." Dunn said as he rubbed his head. "Keller's a maybe too, but it depends on whether he can work out a program with someone, he hasn't worked a full program in over 6 years, so we'll have to see what he can do with someone else first."

"OK...now, staff. Who do you need?"

"What?"

Dunn seemed a little startled by the question as Carter looked at him with eyebrows raised.

"Who do you need to run this federation?"

"Everyone."

"No...we're going to have to lay off some staff, even some of these Guardians."

Sparing Nobody [4]

This edition of Sunday Courage would go down as possibly the most brutal. And it was about to get worse.

WAVE 2 of the British Army had absolutely nothing to do on the night. Maybe because the two men that were in charge of WAVE 2, Drake Nefarian & Liam, had hardly been around. Hell, they had only been seen together in the arena once. After that, both men vanished. No orders were given out by either men, and as a result, WAVE 2 had to watch as WAVEW 1 & WAVE 3 got to get stuck in the bashing up of Quinton May & Gabriel So'ialu.

Both of whom, by the way, haven't been seen since the early minutes of the show.

Sitting around, they began to argue amongst themselves, waiting for Nefarian or Liam to show up. They'd seen Drake actually fight on the show thus far, but he seemed to be hidden other than his short show in the ring. Liam, the true leader of the hooligans, was worse off -- he was nowhere to find.

Suddenly, without warning, a bunch of scruffy-looking adolescents appeared out of nowhere with baseball bats and began attacking WAVE 2 of The British Army. Strange, considering the part of the backstage they were in was near the loading dock, which was usually covered well by security officers.

But at the moment, it wasn't really making much difference. The sudden attack, defined by the unprecedentedness of it all, appeared to take its toll on WAVE 2 -- the effects were THAT obvious, that quickly. Unable to defend themselves against baseball bats, it was quite obvious that only two camps could have been behind this.

And the answer was made known when Joey Kole stepped out from the shadows, smiling, with a bag in hand. The zipper of which was open, exposing the huge amount of dollar bills inside.

He looked at the adolescents and nodded his head, before throwing the bag down onto the ground. One of the attackers seperated himself from the bag and took a quick look inside the bag. Satisfied with what was inside, he nodded his head and zipped the bag shut.

It might have cost Andi & Joey a lot of money, but slowly... they were proving their worth.

Like they were challenged to do.

Liam Vs. Janitor Howard Vs. Joey Kole

     

"6 Hard Months" by Marilyn Manson.

The lights went out, and the arena was enveloped by darkness. Also, by the air of loathing, generated by the mere fact that Liam, of The British Army, was about to make his presence felt. Apparently, he had a match tonight. Surprising, considering how he hadn't been involved that much in the show thus far.

Except, of course, for the senseless destruction of several old janitors.

The lights came back on and there Liam was, in the middle of the ring. Bare-bodied, with grayish pants and black shoes. An interesting observation that had to be noted was that the Irishman had a microphone in his hand. He wasn't the most vocal of persons, but maybe he was trying to follow the crowd's lovely example?

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

He snorted, disgusted.

"Shut up, ye twats."

More jeering ensued.

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

Shaking his head, Liam looked out at the sea of humanity that hated him. Deep inside, a part of him that hadn't existed for years shed a tear... but on the surface, he simply fumed. Furious that the crowd would not give him the time of the day to say his piece, and proceed with the arse-kicking he didn't know he was part of.

"Alright then. This is complete bollocks. I'm supposed to be fighting tonight in a three-way match, but I know not of who my opponents are. So, you twats, whoever and wherever ye scumbags are...

Show your pitiful faces now."

And as if almost on cue, Liam got his wish. The crowd, although not completely a fan of Joey Kole, cheered loudly when the latter slid into the ring having jumped out from the crowd. Smiling, he quickly went on with the sneaking up on Liam. There was one simple problem, however.

Liam could see everything that happened on the ACWTron.

Turning around, he grabbed Joey Kole by his throat and squeezed it, laughing maniacally at the same time. Joey's eyes widened in fear and in struggle, but within seconds, there was to be no struggle. Liam picked the younger of the Kole Brothers up and slammed him down onto the canvas, causing the entire ring to shudder from the impact.

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

Suddenly, the negative outburst morphed into a tremendous and upbeat roar of approval. Liam was confused, as he pulled himself up and stared at the lifeless body of Joey Kole. Slowly turning around, looking out at the audience, he found out why exactly were they so joyous.

Janitor Howard, now assumedly the third party in this match, was perched at the top of the turnbuckle.

And despite his age, the man soared through the air, his elbow crashing into the face of the Irishman with maximum impact, knocking the latter off his large frame and down to the canvas!

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

Janitor H, scowling, didn't bother too much about the crowd's perception. All he wanted was to kick the ass of the man that messed with his family. His daughter's family, more specifically. Standing up, he kicked away rabidly at the Irishman's chest, his eyes gleaming with each kick. And before you knew it, the Senior Citizen bounced himself off the ropes.

Scoring with a legdrop.

Following up with the instant cover, admist the deafening cheers;

ONE...

TWO...

TH...

Alas, the celebrations ended. Liam kicked out, and Howard cursed, as he pulled the .vindication member up and forced him into a corner of the ring, where he began to unload a barrage of hate-filled punches. Joey, meanwhile, began stirring and regaining his marbles. Using the rope, he helped himself up... but found that his vision was slightly impaired. Everything he saw was blurred.

Standing to his feet, he watched as Liam came running towards him, having been irish-whipped by Janitor Howard.

What was really happening, however, was that Janitor Howard got headbutted by Liam, who then delivered a scintilating thrust kick to the Senior Citizen. A move that sent Howard staggering backwards at an amazing rate.

So, Joey Kole lived for the moment, and executed a spear.

Which connected.

Of course, as he regained his footing and began to celebrate, he realised that it was Janitor H he'd taken out. Spinning around, he came face-to-face with Liam, who simply smiled.

And picked the younger Kole brother up, before gorilla pressing him out of the ring.

With Howard still out, Liam shrugged his shoulders and placed his right foot on Howard's chest, as a form of a cover;

ONE...

TWO...

THREE.

Yet another easy victory for The British Army. The jeers rained down upon the ring again, but Liam didn't care. He simply made his quiet exit from the ring. Joey Kole lay on the outside, coughing his balls off. Deep inside, he was furious with himself for having been tossed about like a rag doll. And in Howard's subconscious, the desire for revenge grew to all-new heights.

For Liam, it was simply another day at the office.

Winner: Liam

Arriving… Finally.

"Well...this is weird."

The “Original Pulp Hero” slumped against the large steel doors that led into the arena… after several days of uncertainty… and more then one close call… he had arrived to Courage’s destination one week before Glory. Yep, what a champ. He ran his fingers thru his hair and smiled, he hadn’t felt happier in the last month and a half to be at an event. Alias walked up to the usual backstage tech sans clipboard. The tech was talking to one Charlie Dunn who did, in fact, hold the board.

“Do you know where my room is?” Alias said to Dunn, as the ACW owner was taking a small break from his negations with Carter.

Dunn looked up from the clipboard… more then surprised to see his most personable star player smiling right back at him. Dunn shook Alias’s hand.

“You know… I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to you since I’ve jumped back into the fire… I actually tried to contact you after the last show. Where were you?”

It was a long story. “Yeah that’s a long story… but nothing worth rambling about.” Ironically, it was.

“Well then I’ll let you get prepared for your match tonight.” Dunn said smiling, as the promoter he was really looking forward to this big match-up.

“Match?”

“Yep, your teaming with Kain to take on Osyrus and SVJ. Thought you’d like it.” Dunn replied with a wink, as he finally handed the board back to the tech.

The wheels turned in Alias’s head… after how things ended with SVJ at last week’s show… and what ensued afterward… would he be able to face Jacobs? It was a question that had stayed with Alias for several weeks now. He looked at it this way… he would have came out of that submission match with the win… if one thing had gone his way… and if anything else he had Kain at his side, always had.

“Should be very interesting, Dunn.”

He worried about Kain, however… about what was now happening between Kain and Jade and the toile it was taking on Jason. That wasn’t his first worry though… not by a long shot sadly. Alias still had SVJ front and center.

“Hey kid…” Alias said, turning to the tech. “… has Jacobs arrived yet?

“Um… no sir, I don’t have him down as in yet, no.”

Alias walked off, he had a match to prepare for… and he needed something, anything, to get his mind off Jacobs. As he strode towards his locker room, he thought of what the tech had said and a single word escaped from his mouth.

“Good.”

Baldy Bastard!

"Ugh...my head is still bustin' after last week, Tam, get me a paracetamol would ye."

Hamish Ferguson rubbed his head as the other half of the Flying Scotsmen searched through his hold all for some old fashion pain killers. Ever since last week's match with Keller, big Hamish had been suffering from concussion, after Keller clocked him in the head with a size 13 steel toe capped boot. It seemed like ever since then, someone had a pneumatic drill and was taking it out on Hamish's forehead.

"Don't worry about it big man," Tam said as he passed the tablets over to Hamish. "I'll sort him out the night, and by the sound of it, I can pap him oot of ACW for good if I beat him. No more bald headed arse walking about these parts."

Tam looked over at Hamish, his bald head covered in small skin ripples as Hamish frowned as the small cruiser with a passion.

"Sorry."

"Am I interrupting you two lovebirds?"

Hamish nearly flew out of his eat as Khristain Keller stood at the door, God knows how long he had been standing there without the duo not even noticing.

"You motherfucker!"

Hamish jumped out of his seat as Tam pulled him back, a big feat for such a small man.

"Hammy, leave it, if you mess him up they'll be no match, yak it in!"

As big Hamish sat back down, Keller moved into the dressing room as himself and Tam should nose to...chest.

"You listen to me ya big baldy cunt, I'm gonna rip you open you hear me, ever heard of the Glasgow smile? Huh?"

Keller seemed less than impressed.

"Speaka' ze English? Don't come at me with petty threats little man, the fact of the matter is that big ol' Hamish got his blue and white ass royally smashed last week and now you want revenge, I can understand that, but I have more important options for this match, if I win, I get a contract, an iron clad one, do you have any idea what I could do with an iron clad contract?"

"Run riot?" Hamish said as he rubbed his forehead, as wee Tam still stood toe to toe with Keller.

"Listen..."wee man", I'm not here to fight, I'm here to ask you if wanna throw the match for me, it would be in your best interests if you threw the match, because you would then be on my good side. You would be a minion of an ACW God, how about it?"

Tam stepped down for a moment as he looked over at Hamish, but this wasn't his question to answer. It wasn't going to be Hammy up there tonight, it was going to be Tam. He looked at his old partner as Hammy shrugged his shoulders, as Tam McKilloch stepped back up to Keller and said...

"Kiss my arse."

WHAM

Keller struck McKilloch with a hard right hand which sent the Scotsmen flying back into the locker room, as Hamish got to his feet, Keller was already out of the room, quicker than a hiccup.

"Come back you bastard!"

It seemed that the Keller/Scotsmen rivalry had just taken another step towards chaos.

Khristain Keller Vs. Tam McKilloch

  

It was a risky move, but as Tam McKilloch jumped around the ring, trying to loosen himself up, he stood alone in the ring as he had told his tag team partner, Hamish Ferguson to stay back for this one. So as "The Flower Of Scotland" died down...it was time for Keller's entrance.

'Dirty Window' - Metallica

Cue heat.

Enter K².

Keller strolled past the curtain as he gave no notice to the arena full of boos and taunts he was receiving from the ACW faithful. It seemed that the fans around the federation didn't like the cocky, brash and quite over the top veteran, as he walked down the ramp, he waved to the small boy whom only an hour prior, he had dangled over the rampway to negotiate this match. Keller slid into the ring as McKilloch instantly jumped him, as Keller had also got a cheap shot in on the Scot earlier.

McKilloch pulled Keller to his feet and pushed him into the ropes, before slugging him over with an Irish whip. A stiff clothesline sorted Keller out early in the match as he hit the mat hard, as McKilloch went for a shock victory.

1...

2...

Kickout.

Keller was quickly up to his feet but McKilloch was quicker. McKilloch hit Keller with a couple of right hands before he hit him in the stomach with a wild knee, Keller bowed down as "Wee Tam" hit Keller with a DDT!

1...

2...

Shoulder up.

Keller looked dazed as he tried to shake off the cobwebs, but before he knew it, Tam was right on him again as he put the boot into Keller's chest. Tam pulled Keller to his feet and whipped him into the corner, and as Tam build himself up, he sped off into the corner looking for a shoulder tackle, but Keller was aware enough to move out of the way, as Tam moved right through the ropes and then collided with the ring post, the crowd grimaced at the impact.

"Little motherfucker."

Keller cracked his neck and as moved out of the ring, he looked over at the ringpost as it looked like a bombsite, but Keller found a quick solution to getting McKilloch out of there.

A stiff right hand.

McKilloch exploded out of the corner as Keller slid back into the ring, he looked down as his prey and aimed a boot for Tam's head, which connected. Keller pulled Tam to his feet and then let rip with an exploder suplex which rocked the ring big time. As the fans through Keller was going to go for a cover, he denied them by moving up to his feet and then looking into the crowd. He then made the gesture of him signing a contract, which got the fans in the arena really hot.

Keller moved over to McKilloch...

Small package!

1...

2...

3!

...

...

You Wish

Keller kicked out just before the three, and he immediately got up on his feet and began to pummel Tam with stiff kicks to the head and shoulders. Keller pulled McKilloch to his feet and whipped him against the ropes, but his attempted clothesline was ducked by Tam and as Keller turned around, McKilloch hit him square in the face with a flying clothesline.

Keller got up.

Clothesline by McKilloch.

Keller got up.

Reverse elbow by McKilloch.

Keller got up once more.

Dropkick by McKilloch.

Keller never got up this time.

1...

2...

Kickout at the death!

"Wee Tam" had the momentum now, as it looked like this match was going to be a lot closer than anyone could have expected. McKilloch pulled Keller to his feet and set him up, Tam was going to powerbomb K². However, Keller has been around the block, and whether it was crafty veteran ship, or just plain old luck, Keller shifted his head upwards which caught Tam on the "tender" parts of his body. The referee, having not seen it, watched on as Keller firmly stuck the boot into Keller's stomach...

 

Tranquilizer

 

1...

 

2...

 

3.

And that was all she wrote.

Ladies and Gentleman, the newest full-time member of the ACW roster, Mr. Khristain Keller.

Winner: Khristain Keller

Jason Kain, One-Man Wrecking Crew

“AAAAAAAAARGH!!!!”

The chair hit the wall again. The room was wrecked. Jason Kain was on a roll tonight. This was the third room he’s destroyed, and the fifth cameraman to be knocked out today. Kain didn’t even smile. The sad part was that he actually felt sorry for what he was doing… but calming down wasn’t happening. He tried his hardest to sit down, he even tried napping and calling out for the day… but when HAWK told him he could get his hands on Osyrus just one week before the big pay-off he couldn’t bear to sit it out.

He just had to keep it together for another hour or so…

Just an hour or so.

HAWK had already been by to visit him. He had gotten virtually the same response the cameramen and security guards had… The difference being Kain didn’t throw a chair at him. Kain didn’t do anything. But HAWK knew that it was getting very close to Kain just toppling over the edge… especially with the new scars that covered his wrists.

Kain just figured one thing as he covered the slits with a towel. Suicide wouldn’t solve a damn thing.

Osyrus will pay. And pay dearly.

Jason Reaves Vs. Chad Stalin

  

The lights dimmed, and the arena buzzed about who could be making an appearance now. Would it be one of the ACW superstars coming out for an interview where they’d end up barraging an enemy with a horde of brutal words? Would it be a new star making his or her debut? Would the crowd cheer? Would they boo? 

“Spit It Out” by Slipknot hit the PA system. 

The fans in attendance hopped to their feet with a jolt of euphoria. They gave up quite a reception for the man standing in the entranceway. 

Dawned in his wrestling attire, Chad Staling was ready to play tonight. He was ready to tear the man he’d be facing limb from limb. A lot of rage had been building up in Chad recently, and a good bit of it was brought upon Chad’s shoulders by his opponent tonight. 

Chad walked down to the ring and slid in. 

No playing the crowd. 

No playing the cameras. 

No bullshit. 

Chad just cracked his neck and hopped from foot to foot to keep his adrenaline flowing freely. When his music began to die down, Chad looked to the entranceway with disdain written on his face. 

“X Gonna Give It To ya” by DMX began pumping over the speakers and Jason ’The Animal’ Reaves stepped out from the back. 

The condescension painted upon Chad’s face was equally portrayed in the features of Jason Reaves. These two men just didn’t like each other. They had never liked each other. Chances are: they never will like each other. 

Jason focused solely on Chad, ignoring the jeers being shouted at him from the crowd surrounding him. There was a certain degree of pride on the line here tonight. Two fighters going nose to nose. Jason was determined to come out on top...cos’ he knew he could. 

Reaves slid into the ring and immediately he and Chad were in one another’s face. The two men shared choice words which were released with raised voices. 

The fans could feel the tempers boiling up and were on their feet watching...waiting for one, or both of these ticking timebombs to explode. If it wasn’t a simultaneous explosion, it would certainly be a chain reaction of sorts. 

“Fuck you Stalin. Fuck your fans. Fuck your wife. Fuck you!” 

The words rang out loud and the fans winced at every syllable and waited for what was bound to happen. They knew now that Chad would be the first of these two men to explode. 

Strangely enough though, Chad didn’t blow up. He didn’t explode or get angry. In fact, he did just the opposite...he smiled at Jason Reaves. Jason creased his brows in sheer confusion. The fans did just the same. Chad kept smiling until he parted his lips and spit a worked up ball of mucus right between Jason Reaves’ eyes. 

The fans roared with approval. 

Jason brought back his hand and the two men began trading punches in the middle of the ring. The referee called for the bell and the match was officially underway. 

Furious, volatile movements were underway. The two men traded flurries of pummeling punches until Chad had seemingly gained the upper hand. Chad caught Jason with two uppercuts straight to the square of his jaw. The referee had already given up trying to keep the two men from using closed fists...he knew what kind of battle this was. Chad drew his arm back to deliver another punch to Jason, however, Jason ducked under the swing and got behind Stalin. 

Jason gave Chad two elbows to the back of the head then hooked his arms around Chad’s waist. With a great show of strength, Jason effortlessly lifted Chad into the air and fell with him to the ground executing a belly-to-back suplex with ease. Jason sprung to his feet and grabbed Chad’s foot. 

Reaves began pushing forward on Chad’s foot while pulling his leg backwards. The ankle lock produced grunts of pain from Chad’s mouth. The official asked him if he wanted to give up numerous times but Chad swatted him out of his face each time. 

“STA-LIN!” 

“STA-LIN!” 

“STA-LIN!” 

The fans had begun chanting Chad’s last name. He couldn’t hear them...he was in his zone, and even if he could have heard them-he’s not one of those entertainers who really gives a flying fuck on fire about what the fans chant. As far as Chad was concerned, they could dress themselves in metal and chant “lightning” and it would alter anything in the world’s destiny. 

So the fact that Chad mustered up the strength not to give up and crawl to the ropes had nothing to do with the petty chant being presented by the crowd. Chad was feeding off these idiot’s energy. He was feeding off his will to win. His resolve to destroy. His tenacity to maim. 

All of Chad Stalin’s motives in a nutshell right there. 

Jason finally relinquished the hold as the referee pushed him away from Chad and gave him a brief lecture. Chad started to get to his knees and Jason pushed the ref out of the way and grabbed Chad by his mane of hair. Jason started to lift Chad to his feet, but Chad suddenly sprung up with vivacity and almost beheaded Jason Reaves with a rising clothesline. 

The fans cheered. 

Fuck it, maybe the cheers do have the SMALLEST effect on Chad. 

Jason rolled on the ground in agony as Chad began stomping on his head. Chad lifted Reaves up and whipped him into the ropes. Catching him on the rebound, Chad delivered a devastating spinebuster slam that brought forth groans of pain from the crowd as if they could actually feel the crippling consequences of such a move. 

Chad went for the pin. 

1... 



2... 



NO! 

Jason Reaves somehow managed to kickout. 

Chad stood up, showing a tad bit of frustration. He hovered over Reaves and jumped up into the air. Chad landed with both of his knees being driven into the ribs of Jason Reaves. 

Reaves coughed and gasped as the wind escaped his body. 

Chad had been using that move ever since his days in the underground fight scene. It was a move that garnered him the famous nickname: “He who collapses your fucking ribs.” 

Jason’s ribs weren’t broken yet, maybe bruised, but certainly not broken. 

That just meant Chad had to step up and do better at his job. 

Chad got to his feet and jumped up in the air once more. Jason, however, was prepared. Reaves lifted one foot up and caught Chad underneath the chin. 

Chad flew about 3 inches backwards to the ground. He rolled around, clutching his neck and grimacing at the throbbing in his upper neck. 

Jason rolled out of the ring and got his hands on a steel chair. The fans began booing when they caught sight of this as it spelled bad news for Chad Stalin. 

Jason slid into the ring and shoved the referee out of his way before lifting the chair high over his head and bringing it down with tremendous force onto Chad’s abdomen. 

CRACK!!!! 

The sound echoed throughout the arena soon followed by the sound of the timekeeper’s bell. 

Jason heard it announced... 

“The winner of this match as a result of disqualification...Chad Stalin!” 

Fury. That’s all that flowed through Jason’s body now. 

He brought the chair down on Chad’s ribs three more times before bringing Chad to his feet with a violent tug. 

Jason bounced off the ropes... 

ANIMALISTIC TENDENCY!!! 

Jason sprung to his feet after driving Chad to the ground and watched as Chad began coughing up a crimson flow of blood. 

Jason gave Chad a final kick before leaving him to the mercy of the EMTs. 

The EMTs rushed out and started to load Chad onto the stretcher, but Chad fought them. He rolled off the stretcher and slowly began crawling up the ramp. 

Blood leaked from his mouth forming a gruesome trail behind him. 

One of the EMTs snuck up behind him a drove a needle into Chad’s neck and injected him full of tranquilizer. 

Chad slowly grew limp and collapsed on the ramp and was loaded onto the stretcher. 

He sporadically dreamt of murdering Jason Reaves. 

And those weren’t what he considered nightmares. 

Winner: Chad Stalin via DQ

Sparing Nobody [5]

For only the second time that night, .vindication had been seen together.

But despite each of them picking up solid victories, neither one can claim to say that the night proceeded smoothly for The British Army. Vincent Pembridge, the leader, had ordered his most important men to return, for he had news that would ensure a busy week ahead. Rest was important, and expected.

So, with their troops having filed out a while ago, after recovering from the beating at the hands of thugs paid for by the Kole Brothers, Liam & Drake Nefarian walked silently towards their getaway vehicle. Neither were smiling, much less looking at each other. They were a team, and they appeared to be having a communication breakdown.

"You think it'll happen? Think Vince can pull it off?"

Liam turned to his right, at Nefarian, and sniggered... as he pulled out the keys to the van.

"Probably. He'd better, anyways. It's our bloody prize, consdering the damage we've been inflictin'... would be a travesty in the event that the guv'nor doesn't give us what he agreed to."

Obviously, they weren't talking about the Scorpion's chances in the 3-On-1 Steel Cage Fight. Maybe they weren't even worried, considering their leader's undefeated streak thus far in the ACW. But whatever they were chatting about discreetly and mysteriously, it had to be regarding something very important.

And obviously, the Kole Brothers had a vested interest in it. Or maybe they were just looking to exact some revenge. Andi & Joey appeared from behind two parked cars and charged at Drake & Liam... knocking them down with wild forearm swings to their spines. .vindication were tougher than that, however, and both men responded with uppercuts.

The fight was on.

But there was to be a third party.

El Janitors had decided that it was time to get in on the act, get their taste of revenge. For Howard & Morris, they had both the teams they hated to target, and they utilised that little fact very well. Morris went after Andi, while Howard charged Joey down, before recontinuing his bitter scrap with the Irishman.

Backstage officials were quick to rush to the scene, and for what seemed to be the millionth time on the night, they got down to the unenviable task of breaking up a heated scruffle. This one, however, appeared to be neverending. There was just too much animosity afoot.

Something big would have to be done.

And it'd have to be done soon.

Perseverance… The 233rd Try

SliverHAWK sat in his office. The desk in front of him perfectly placed for his feet, as he stared to the ceiling listening to the massive laughter over the phone from his security guard out front. He began to remember the earlier calls… stating that a masked idiot had been trying to get into the front door with a fake ticket. HAWK knew exactly who it was but just shook his head in disbelief as the guy started to wear fake outfits to get in. If it weren’t for the fact that El Emenopoi wouldn’t take off his mask, he probably could have, too.

Right now he was walking up to the guards dressed as a carnival popcorn vendor, red vertical striped shirt and everything… Not the black, yellow, and blue uniforms that everyone else was wearing. AND he was wearing the mask still. But he still claimed that he was sorry for being late.

Finally HAWK cracked a smile. Sure the guy was stupid. Sure he couldn’t wrestle worth shit. But he had something other members of this fed truly lacked. Perseverance. Even after being rejected, and thrown on his ass, he was still pounding at the door, stating that he didn’t get a chance. He wasn’t complaining. He truly felt that he didn’t get chance.

HAWK looked at the video footage from the hallways, as Jason Kain threw a chair around, still lamenting the loss of Jade. He listened intently to his El Emenopi situation on the phone. He looked at another camera angle, and noticed something. Osyrus and Isis were in the picture. They were laughing. HAWK frowned and turned off the mute button on his phone.

“Jimmy, Charles… Let the mask in.”

Suddenly the laughter stopped. The sound crackled over the phone for a moment, then a clear word came through.

“WHAT!?!?”

“You heard me, guys. Let him in.”

Scorpion Title
Steel Cage Match
Bobby Knickerson & 006.392 & Damnson Vs. Vincent Pembridge

  

"Time" by Taproot.

Indeed, it was truly time.

The lights dimmed, and a blue spotlight focused on the stage, awaiting the arrival of the man who was slowly becoming the most hated figure in ACW's history. A spot that had been reserved to the likes of Osyrus & A*Dubbs, amongst other players, for many months. However, a new type of evil was on the rise.

And he was planning to infest the company that was already admist many troubles of its own.

That man was Vincent Pembridge.

You know what to do now. Right? No?

Jeer the heck out of him. And that was exactly what the crowd did. The stage was set for a most probable upset. At least, an upset was what the people were hoping for. And as the steel cage began to lower, most felt that on this night... the Scorpion would finally be derailed. He would finally be beaten, and forced to shut the hell up.

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. Following his actions on the night thus far, the aura of contempt was almost nauseating. The blue spotlight was now focused on the callous fighter, as he walked towards the ring, his title around his waist and his calculating eyes fixated on the steel cage.

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. Not wasting anytime, the Scorpion -- as he usually does -- turned to the section of the crowd which were seated behind the announce team and sneered at them.

The cage was almost completely lowered.

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.

With the cage finally in its place, Vincent began to smile sadistically.

Minds.

And as the house lights returned, the British Degenerate unhooked his title belt, letting it drop to the canvas. Looking at the structure that contained him like a prison, Vincent P turned to look at the stage, the usual hissing and screaming and hurling of abuse being taken up another notch.

He simply shrugged, and began to climb the wall of the cage, leaving many confused. Why was he scaling to the top of the cage now, when the fight hadn't began? Many found it perplexing.

The feeling of which was slowly discarded, as "Cup Of Life" by Ricky Martin started up.

....

Yes, you read correctly.

Bobby Knickerson, 006.392, and Damnson wasted no time in appearing from the back -- QA represent, yo. The three-men team, with the perfect chance to wrest away what Vincent P apparently holds dear to him, had a lot of motivation going into this fight. Having discussed the possibility that maybe the British Degenerate had something to do with the disappearance of Quinton May & Gabriel So'ialu, all three of them were looking to kick some ass.

But as they reached the bottom of the ramp, a rude welcome awaited them.

*CRASH*

"HOLY FUCKING SHITE!"
"HOLY FUCKING SHITE!"
"HOLY FUCKING SHITE!"
"HOLY FUCKING SHITE!"
"HOLY FUCKING SHITE!"
"HOLY FUCKING SHITE!"

Having reached the top of the cage, Vincent Pembridge kept his eyes fixed on the three men that posed the opposition to him on this night. But knowing that he was the King of the bloody Aces, the Scorpion decided to do something that would ensure him legendary status.

After all, he was 6'4", 280 lbs.

So, he pulled himself onto the absolute top of the cage wall. Which, not being fit for balancing one's self, required one to jump off immediately. And that was exactly what Vincent did, as he dove down onto the three figures that represented the enemy.

"HOLY FUCKING SHITE!"
"HOLY FUCKING SHITE!"
"HOLY FUCKING SHITE!"
"HOLY FUCKING SHITE!"
"HOLY FUCKING SHITE!"
"HOLY FUCKING SHITE!"

All four men rolled about on the ground in agony, considering the height from which Vincent leapt off of. But not surprisingly, he was the first to his feet, grinning like a horny lil' dog. He limped towards the ring and reached under it, whilst 006.392 began to lift himself off the concrete.

He went right down, courtesy of a present from the Manucian Predator.

*CRACK*

A chairshot.

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

Followed by two more.

Damnson was the next to recover, but Vincent decided to not use the chair. Instead, he threw it down and grabbed Damnson by his... sticky head of hair.

*CLANG*

Before sending him flying head-first into the exterior cage wall, Damnson's head getting to know the steel mesh really well.

As Damnson collapsed in a heap, the crowd's buzz dropped to a whimper as Bobby Knickerson struggled to his vertical balance, inadvertently volunteering himself to be the next victim of Pembridge's crazed beating. And as expected, The Phenomenon received the same punishment Damnson did.

*CLANG*

With a cherry on top.

Meaning, as he stumbled back into Vincent's path, the British Degenerate easily lifted Knickerson over his head and slammed him down onto the steel-ramp, in a gorilla press slam.

It was carnage, personified.

But it wasn't over.

Picking up the steel chair again, Vincent P smacked his lips, looking down at the prone bodies of 006.392 and Damnson.

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

A short breather. Then...

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

Six shots. Three to the YOTN in 006.392, the other three for Damnson. Both men -- or boys, rather -- looked completely dead. The crowd were absolutely horrified by the violence that was unfolding before their eyes. This was extreme, even for them. It seemed that maybe Vincent Pembridge had snapped.

Or, maybe, this was the real Scorpion Of Manchester on show.

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

Not caring too much about the 'small-minded cunts' in attendance, Vincent Pembridge gripped his steel-chair even more tightly, despite the dented condition it was in. Basically signifying that there was much more to come. Walking over to Knickerson, he grabbed the 19 year old by the collar of his white t-shirt and dragged him towards the ring. And with the referee powerless to have done anything so far, Vincent took advantage of this by barking at the poor bugger to open the cage door.

Which the referee duly did, followed by the ringing of the bell.

Now then, was the fight actually on.

Tossing Bobby inside, Vincent Pembridge chuckled to himself, pleased with the carnage that had been delivered. The crowd weren't, obviously, but what could they do? Nothing, except jeer. The jeering wouldn't save Bobby Knickerson, who was already cut open above his right eye.

And like a shark smelling blood, the Manucian Predator honed right in.

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

Right down on the boy's face.

On the outside, 006.392 somehow managed to get to his feet, and walked to the cage wall, beginning to climb it. Vincent sensed the increase in cheering and instinctively turned around. Finding the pathetic excuse of a warrior in 006.392 trying his dandiest to fight through the pain, Pembridge laughed.

Before he rushed over and slammed the chair against the mesh of the cage. Metal against metal against face equalled to 006 falling back down to the ground with a nasty thud.

He was spent.

The boo'ing intensified beyond imaginable levels. But the coup de grace had yet to come.

With Knickerson somehow digging deep down into his last reserve to stand up, Vincent decided to finish him off, once and for all. Despite all the crowd's urging, Bobby turned around, his face an absolute crimson mask.

The Scorpion had been waiting.

Threw the chair at Bobby, who duly caught it. Which, of course, brought about the running sidekick from Vince.

SCORPION STING~!

"HOLY SHITE!"
"HOLY SHITE!"
"HOLY SHITE!"
"HOLY SHITE!"

It was as good as over.

Vincent Pembridge dusted himself off, picked up his Scorpion Title, strapped it around his waist again, and walked to the cage wall, beginning his second ascend up the same side. This time, the intention was to secure the victory. And with everybody taken care of, victory was assured. Nobody would have thought such mayhem was possible, but they forget...

The British Degenerate is unstoppable.

Reaching the top, he outstretched his arms and sneered at the crowd, who simply couldn't stand it anymore. They were disgusted down to the pits of their digestive system, and some of them even vomitted, looking at the state of the three challengers.

But see, it wasn't over.

Looking down, Vincent realised how inviting 006.392's lifeless lifeform looked.

And with nothing to lose, he once again pulled himself onto the top of the cage, not bothering to balance himself.

....

Flying elbow-drop, baby.

*sound-of-bones-breaking-and-heart-of-006.392-stopping-momentarily*

"HOLY FUCKING SHITE!"
"HOLY FUCKING SHITE!"
"HOLY FUCKING SHITE!"
"HOLY FUCKING SHITE!"
"HOLY FUCKING SHITE!"
"HOLY FUCKING SHITE!"

It didn't matter that Vincent Pembridge had almost killed himself in the process.

The Scorpion Title was still his, and the undefeated record was still intact. And with that, his glorious night had come to an end.

The status of Quinton May and Gabriel So'ialu still...

Unknown.

Winner: Vincent Pembridge

Commitment

Dunn paced the room with his hands on his hips, he couldn't believe what he was going to have to do, but he knew that if he wanted to keep ACW afloat, measures had to be taken, no matter how small the profit may be.

The idea was simple by Brian Carter.

Released the workers that you don't need, make money out of the ones you do.

However, firing people was never an easy thing to do, especially as the people he was about to fire, have only ever done good for the company. He had already made two phonecalls in the matter of 20 minutes.

Fonzi Barthello and John Stern, neither of which were able to make it to the arena that night as they were on ACW business in Europe, trying to arrange some sort of TV deal with BSkyB.

Jimmy Gonz, had been notified before either of the two, and even though he knew that these things had to be done, he couldn't help but feel a bit let down as he would walk out to find another job somewhere in the wrestling business.

But Dunn still walked the floor, as before him stood Joe Bishop and SilverHAWK, the two guardians whom had done more over the last 2-3 months than any of the others. Not because they had been told to, but because they had wanted to.

"Listen guys...as you know the budget strings are tightening and we are letting people go, if you haven't heard already...we've already let go of Fonzi, Stern and Gonz, and now I'm afraid that we are going to have to let you two go as well."

Dunn looked at the floor in embarrassment, as two of his best employee's where being taken out of a company in which they helped build, so that that company could infact stay alive. It took Dunn a few seconds before he could look each man in the eye...but the response he got was mind-blowing.

"OK."

"Fine by me."

Dunn looked on as HAWK and Bishop got from their seats, Bishop moved forward to Dunn first, as SilverHAWK looked on behind him.

"Listen Dunn...I'll do this job for free until things get better, but if you'll excuse me, I've gotta make sure all the guys are ready for this match."

As Bishop quickly shook hands with Carter, it left SilverHAWK in the room with the duo.

"Dunn...I'm the same as Bishop, until you don't want me around here at all, I'll do this job for free no sweat."

Dunn looked on as SilverHAWK left the room, to attend to the business in which he had to do for the end of the show, and as Carter closed the door, he patted Dunn on the back, as if to say well done...

"That went better than I expected..." Dunn said, as he continued his work, on saving ACW from bankruptcy.

Incident

Vince Jacobs was sitting in his dressing room most of the night as he watched the show from his monitor. Vince was on an emotional high because of what he did last week to his enemy, Chris Sheffield. SVJ had made another step in the mind game department in this battle between he and Chris.

Last week Vince’s plan to torment and humiliate Chris worked to his liking. He got Chris to an incapacitated state where he could inflict damage on him. It wasn’t physical damage but more mental damage. Vince sat back in his Italian Leather sofa smiling at what happened during the week.

The torture he put Chris through. Vince knew tonight that Chris would try to extract revenge in the tag team match. He didn’t care about the other two non-significant people in this match. According to Vince, Kain and Osyrus were just in the way tonight.

His focus was on Alias and no one else. He wanted this to end and it was going to end at Glory when he and Alias was going to go one on one in the ring. Tonight though it was just more torment, more mind games, more SVJ doing what he does best.

Tonight Vince will look across the ring at Jason Kain and Alias and make both men into stars. 

Vince thought to himself...

‘I hope Osyrus can hold his own.’

Alias and Jason Kain Vs. Vince Jacobs and Osyrus

  

The final match came on with silence and meaning.

This was where it got BIG.

The Epitome of Innovation

The Original Pulp Hero

Versus

The Real Triple Threat

The reason there is a show

A match-up made in heaven… now.

The harsh industrial tones of “Quick Death” by the Transplants pumped through the arena, the fans flew off there seats to cheer for the one and only Jason Kain. Suddenly the hard rifts shifted into the explosive guitar of Linkin Park.

“Faint”

Alias and Jason Kain stepped out from the backstage area… ready for battle, ready for anything. These two men had made it through the steel clutch of Winters Inc. and had not only survived, but they had thrived… and maybe it was, just a little bit, because of each other. Both men weren’t in the best shape mentally, however, as two men where currently responsible for quite a shitkicking on ‘em.

“Ring Superstar”

Subject A for example, then man didn’t even need to appear from behind the curtains to boo and jeer him as much as humanly possible. Alias had disappeared for five days after the last Courage… what happened and how it happened was unknown… and that was known was that Alias was still somehow alive and everyone knew that only SVJ could be responsible. Vince Jacobs walked out from behind the curtains and looked out at the crowd… a cocky grin on his face as always. He held at higher knowledge that he was better then each and everyone of these peons.  

SVJ stood at the top of the steel ramp and waited for his partner… the one and only…

Trumpets blared through the arena’s PA system followed by “Patiently Waiting” by 50 Cent.

Osyrus.

If the reaction against SVJ was as much as humanly possibly in the negative… this was MORE then humanly possible.

Yes, the man was just… that… bad.

Osyrus and Isis walked up beside SVJ, Isis separating the two men, and they began there march down to ring-side oblivious to the jeers around them. They slid into the ring as 50 cent died down. The warring factions came face to face, nose to nose as Isis rolled out of the ring… something the ref probably wanted to do right about now too.

However, the ref separated the two groups and sent them to there respective corners… you knew this order wouldn’t last. Kain wanted to start off for his team, hoping Osyrus would do the same… he wanted so much to get his hands on that son of a bitch. Osyrus saw this however and wanted SVJ to start off the fight, already ducking to the outside corner. Alias wanted to jump into Kain’s place now… but he was just a second to late it seemed.

*ding ding*

Jason Kain vs. “Superstar” Vince Jacobs for the first time.

The inevitable eruption could be contained no longer. Things were about to go off with a bang.

Jason Kain launched himself at Vince Jacobs with an unstoppable tirade of fists. Rights and lefts, right kicks and left kicks, even an eye rake and a headbutt. They all had Jacobs rocking on the ropes, as Osyrus and Alias looked on in bewilderment, they had expected some fight from the man… but this? The aggression of Kain had almost never reached such insurmountable peaks before, but instead of breaking his will this whole thing with Jade might have just pushed him over that edge.

Jabs, hooks, upper cuts, body shots, all one after the other and each as powerful as the last had Jacobs against the ropes and protecting his muscular body with his arms. “THIS IS FOR JADE YOU STUPID SON OF A BITCH! SEND THE MESSAGE TO OSYRUS!” screamed Kain manically, before burying his right knee deep into the gut of SVJ. As he did so, Osyrus and Alias willingly stepped out onto the apron and watched on, still bewildered at how strong Kain had become.

Jacobs still fell on the ropes, trying to catch his breath, but he was caught with another right uppercut that sent mucus flying from his nose.

“Let him move Jason!” exclaimed referee. This was not no disqualifications. “Get off of him! One! Two! Three! Four!”

But before the five count could be reached, Alias stepped into the ring, grabbed his friend by the waist and yanked him away from the situation before he could get his team disqualified. Furious with his friend, he took him outside the ring.

“Are you crazy? You want us to lose this shot at these sons of bitches? You better believe I hate Jacobs more then you do, man. I want a shot at the bastard too. Don’t you want your shot at Osyrus?” queried Alias as Vince Jacobs collapsed inside the ring and bent on all fours to recapture his breath. “You don’t want him? Then get disqualified! If you do… make the bastard bleed.”

Kain nodded, grateful that he’d been restrained before he did something he’d regret, finally he had more of a level head. Sliding back in, he saw Jacobs on his knees. He grabbed Jacobs and rolled him into an Oklahoma Roll.

“One!

Two!”

But SVJ easily kicked out. Not satisfied, Kain bounced off the ropes and ducked a swinging lariat, before returning with a somersault clothesline that took down the Superstar. “Get up!” cried Kain, waiting on the reason there is a show to get to his feet. And he did.

Quick boot below the belt to Kain for some good heel heat later… and SVJ had the advantage. The ref tried to get in to say something, but to no use as SVJ knifed Kain’s chest and tossed him to the ropes. Kain easily ducked the first swing and took SVJ down with a shoulder block. SVJ got up and bounced to the ropes again, hopping over Kain on the mat. Jacobs then leaped over Kain who ducked as he was getting to his feet, to avoid collision, and then took down SVJ with a drop-kick.

SVJ rolled to his corner, where Osyrus waited to be called in. Osyrus reached his hand out, but SVJ just ignored it. SVJ got back up and approached Jason Kain with speed, getting in a few closed fists. The ref warned SVJ about the hands, so he tried his luck with a wild Haymaker.

Kain blocked the punch and returned it with a few of his own. A boot to the stomach and a DDT later, SVJ was on the mat holding his head. Jason Kain brought Vince Jacobs to his feet and whipped him hard into a corner. Jacobs stumbled out, and Kain took him down with a lariat. Kain brought Superstar back up and tagged out to Alias then held Vince Jacobs open for him.

Alias struck with a shot to the kidneys, followed by several more as Jacobs stumbled back. Alias followed him and hooked him up quickly, then took him down with a snap suplex. Alias brought Vince up, trying for another, but Jacobs brought his knee up into Alias's crotch. With Alias doubled over, Jacobs quickly double-underhooked his head and drove him into the mat with a DDT. Vince Jacobs then finally tagged out to Osyrus, knowing he wanted to spend as little time in the ring with Alias as possible. Osyrus hit the ring and whipped Alias into a corner, then followed him in with a hard clothesline.

Osyrus set Alias up, then struck him with a stinging chop that rang throughout the arena. Alias surged back and struck Osyrus with a hard chop of his own. He followed it up with another, and another, and another. He took Osyrus down with a gutwrench suplex and made the cover. Osyrus kicked out at two. Alias stood in place, waiting for Osyrus to get up. As O started to stir, Alias ran into the ropes. He then came off with a rolling elbow smash that connected directly with the face of Osyrus, dropping him hard to the mat.

Alias made the cover again, but again Osyrus kicked out at two. Alias brought Osyrus up to his feet once more and whipped him into the ropes. As Osyrus came off, Wilson hooked him up for a hiptoss, then dropped to the mat landing michinoku driver-style. Alias held on to the leg for the cover.

One.

Two.

Kickout.

Barely… as SVJ screamed at Osyrus to quote-unquote “get his ass up”. Alias brought Osyrus to his feet again and tagged out to Kain. Kain vaulted over the top rope with a forearm to the head on Osyrus, who was being held by Alias. Osyrus was knocked back, and Kain charged at him again, once again full of rage. Osyrus ducked Kain's attempted clothesline and, before Kain could turn to face him again, Osyrus hooked him from behind and took him down with a german suplex, driving Kain directly into the mat. Ignoring the beating he had taken, Osyrus brought Kain up, then took him down with a second german suplex. Using perhaps the last of his strength, Osyrus dragged Kain to his feet. He then took him down with a third and final german suplex, completing the rolling germans.

“The Beast” instantly went for a cover.

One.

Two.

On the kick out, Kain had turned over onto his stomach to avoid another pinfall, but all he had done was leave himself open for a Fujiwara armbar! Kain quickly scrambled to the ropes. The referee obviously, began his count, but Osyrus broke at two. He was going to have to work on that. Osyrus got up onto his feet. He turned his neck to the side, cracking it, just as Kain was pulling himself up.

He kicked at Kain, but Kain had been able to get his hands in place to block. This left Osyrus open for a hard left cross courtesy of the kneeling Kain, smacking Osyrus right on the cheek. Osyrus dropped onto one knee, where Kain, also on one knee, brought another fist down across the face of Osyrus. Osyrus went to both knees.

Kain shot up to his feet and in the process slammed both knees into Osyrus's face, knocking him down onto his back. A pin followed with a hook of the leg.

One.

Two.

½.

Kain pulled Osyrus up by his head and then pushed him back into the vacant corner. "COME ON!" SVJ shouted. He was just straight down the ring apron, waiting to be tagged in. Kain went for the whip, but it was reversed by Osyrus… Kain held on and changed the angle… sending him barreling towards his partner for the night, SVJ.

Jacobs hopped onto the top of the turnbuckle, and measured up Osyrus to use this to his advantage, before he dove off and with as much disrespect as possible, he tagged in himself by pushing out of the corner using boot against Osyrus’s head, and in the process sending himself out into the ring. SVJ hit a corkscrew body press onto Kain. SVJ rolled Kain over, and covered him in a lateral press as the fans jeered at SVJ who laughed to himself.

At two and a half, however, Kain popped up a shoulder, and the crowd cheered. SVJ, angered by this, grabbed Kain’s legs, and entwined them into a Standing Figure Four Leg Lock or the Four Star. Jacob’s pulled back at Kain’s right leg. Kain growled as SVJ added more pressure to the leg. Kain tried to withstand the submission hold, but he was slowly losing the battle. Then, Alias entered the ring, proceeding to bash away at SVJ with a flurry of punches, breaking the submission hold, and saving his partner.

Osyrus hopped onto the top rope, and then jumped off, smacking Kain square in the back with a vicious elbow drop as he tried to get to his feet. What did I say before… it would only be a matter of time before all went to hell and the war really started… pre-Glory. Osyrus looked up from his prone position on Kain and saw Alias laying waist to SVJ in the opposite corner. With a smack to the back of Kain’s head, Osyrus jumped up and ran over to Alias, blindsiding the hero in the corner. After several shots he held Alias against the ropes and then yelled over to SVJ.

“Come on Jacobs… make this next shot count!”

When SVJ took time to shake the cobwebs from his head… Osyrus grew impatient.

“Hit the son of a bitch, you ‘never was’!”

SVJ wouldn’t pretend that he hadn’t heard that last bit from O… the fire was still fresh in his eyes as he stared down the former two-time World Champ.

“You want to say that again kid?”

“Fuck you ‘Superstar’… just swing at him already and tag me in… I got a damn match to win!”

Jason Kain stirred from behind his two opponents… he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. At the same time Alias snapped back to it… he was just waiting for his spot. Isis? Isis was more worried about what was about to happen then anything. In match that started out so damn vicious, two of the biggest ego’s in the wrestling world where bound to run out of room in this shared space.

Finally SVJ swung. Alias rolled out of the way. Both Osyrus and SVJ went tumbling over the top rope, with a courtesy dropkick from Jason Kain. The two men where incensed, screaming at each other until they where red in the face… and then screaming some more. They seemed to be moments from coming to blows until finally Isis was able to tear the two men away from each other… slowly walking Osyrus up the ramp as they both sneered at SVJ.

All the while Alias and Jason Kain stood together in the ring, ready for a fight that they knew they would have to wait one more week for. Both battered and bruised warriors... who would have expected for it to end like this? They weren’t surprised at how difficult it seemed for there two enemies to team together against them… but they hadn’t expect the main event to blow apart because of them. Still SVJ and Osyrus argued and trash talked, with Isis only able to get Osyrus as far as he wanted to go.

Finally both men got back in each others face… and SVJ spat a large glob of saliva in Osyrus’s face. It took the big African American back… and as he wiped the saliva from his face, he was for once at a loss for words. SVJ however had finally high tailed it from ring side and into the crowd… he was done with the two time World Champion… for now.

He screamed out at Alias, a man who still stood tall in the center of the ring with Jason Kain by his side. He screamed out the name of match… that Alias thought had died with “The Tin Angel” Chris Phoenix…

But at Glory… it might just be the only thing that kept him alive…

“Pounded and Fused, Chris! You and I… there’s nothing else left is there?! Pounded and Fused, it’s our life!”

“Superstar” Vince Jacobs, from up in the booing crowd, procured a pair of hand cuffs from his tights and held them high in the air for Alias to see… unbeknownst to many, Alias had worn the exact same pair not only just five days prior to tonight's Courage… but also almost 8 years ago… in the first Pounded and Fused match.

Alias was thrown a mic… and as he and SVJ stared at each other from across the arena, and as Jason Kain leaned over the top ropes, pointing and yelling at Osyrus who still stood threateningly at the top of the ramp… Alias had one response for SVJ as the cameras went black, the ACW logo proudly at the bottom, for the last Courage until ACW’s Glory.

“You try to kill me… and on top of that you’re asking for the one and only Pounded and Fused match?

No rules.

No pinfalls.

Tables… Ladders… and Chairs.

Plus, that pair of handcuffs?

How could I say no, Vince.”

Winner: No Contest