- - [June 8th 2003] - -
Broadcasting LIVE! from Des Moines, Iowa at 10/9 p.m. CT

PREVIOUSLY... As the All-Star road show takes a pit stop at IOWA, things have never looked so bleak. Financial difficulties have made many in the company look at things and little more clearer, as the Guardians try to revise the current staff contracts to reduced deals and as all this goes on, the two majority owners of ACW are being questioned with connection to Ethan Winters' murder.

Back In The Thick Of Things

The British Army. No, not the real one. The cool one.

Led by a man who's driven for power, and loves inflicting pain on people. Those who are spared are the women -- despite how callous and evil the man is, he has sworn to never hit or even think of hitting any woman at all. Quite surprising, eh? You'd be shocked, at the skeletons in his closet.

Underneath that facade of toughness and brutality, Vincent Pembridge isn't the biggest bastard alive, to be frank. But hey, what you see is what you get, right?

That isn't the point, though. Many weeks were spent on the takeover of thReat, but in the end, failure is the result. During the whole time spent on thReat -- two months, to be specific -- Vincent hasn't stamped his authority enough in the ACW. But whatever's he has done so far, he's done it wonderfully.

He's already pretty damn hated in this neck of the woods. And majority of the intricate scheming has been centered around the ACW. The organizational structure of The British Army, for example.

Liam, an Irishman with a hazy past, has been provided by a law firm by the name of The Patterson Agency... and Vincent has made Liam his right-hand man. Why has Liam come in? Part of an unknown deal worked out between the Scorpion & The Patterson Agency. And apparently, the next person in the frame is also sponsored by the lawyers with really weird intentions.

Drake Nefarian. A brief encounter with Pembridge in the past wasn't what brought him here. Well, not initially. Vincent asked for muscle, and Drake was offered. Simple as that.

Then, there are the group of British teenagers the Manucian has gathered from all over the country. Divided into three factions. WAVE 1, to be handled by Liam & Nefarian. WAVE 2, the group that was assigned to thReat, but now reassigned to follow Vincent's every words. And WAVE 3, in charge of special projects, whatever they may be.

Truly complex stuff, made to look easy.

So, the scene; the parking lot. Liam and Vincent were checking over their troops, all forty of them, while Nefarian was in the arena getting ready for his in-ring debut. Standing in the shadows was another man, however, who had yet to be introduced to the fold.

"Lads, the weeks that have gone by haven't been bloody good.

We've been picking up numerous defeats, at the hands of absolute sodding cunts. But feck that, the ability to rebound is what I'm looking at. What has happened... has happened. thReat is out of my bloody grasp, but I still have plans for that. The objective remains the same, but with new ways of going about it.

Believe me when I say that things in thReat will reach a crescendo soon enough.

Enough about that -- ACW's my bloody focus at the time being. Quinton's Army is my focus at the time being. WAVE 1, same thing tonight. Liam & Nefarian have some things lined up, report to them. WAVE 3, you know what you lads have to do. Don't sodding mess up; it's a reminder I haven't had to give, and even though you lot haven't messed up yet, it seems a spot of bad luck is what we're going through now.

Feck the bad luck if it befalls you, and get those bleeding tasks done no matter what.

WAVE 2, I've got plans for you lot. I've briefed you already, regarding what they are... so there should be no confusion there. Now, with all of that out of the way, I can introduce the newest member of our esteemed union. He's going to be my own personal disciple, and he's someone you lot already know.

Bobby Knickerson."

Shockingly enough, the thReat janitor and member of the former Vagabonds faction stepped out of the shadows, sheepishly greeting the troops. Vincent cracked a small smile, as everybody acknowledged Knickerson. Who, truth be told, look completely overawed with what he was getting himself into.

"Now, lads, let's bloody get down to business!"

w00t! Let the games begin, ladies and gentlemen. Business is about to pick up.

ETV: A New Angle

The shaky camera moved around, adjusting it’s lens to focus through the A/C grating, staring at Jason Kain and Jade… Kain looked confused, and Jade looked pissed.

“FUCK YOU!” Jade glared at Kain through a black eye. “I thought you were a better man, Jae. I was kind enough to buy you a new bar to make up for the pub that asshole Red destroyed, and you go and cheat on me!?”

“I don’t know what you’re…”

“YOU SHUT UP!” Jade stomped on the floor and shoved Kain back. “I’m no stupid bitch. I thought you found God!? I thought you were a changed man!? I thought you’d, FOR ONCE, think with something other than your dick! But nooooooo! Instead I find this!”

Jade pulls Kain’s old mask from her pocket and grips it hard in her left hand shoving it in Kain’s face. Kain looks shocked, turning to his bag to see how it got out.

“Oh… I didn’t get it from your bag… No…” Jade started to cry slightly. “I found it with that BITCH Isis! You wouldn’t let me even go NEAR it, and you give it to that bitch!? What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole? Who’s been by your side for the past year? Who’s been with you through thick and thin? Who’s been going to church with you every single week, attempting to see what you saw in the place? Who Jae? WHO!?!?”

Kain blinked speechlessly at the floor, then looked at her face… A face that was well more than fed up. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“ME, ASSHOLE! ME!” Jade threw the mask to the floor, trying to stay firm through her own tears. “I wasn’t to up to be jumping around from man to man, but I played your game back in ukw to let you get that Tag Team title for yourself. I played your games to beat Curtis Reile to a pulp, and you gave me nothing back then. I did everything you wanted… hell, I even had SEX with you on your dirty-ass bar! But all I wanted in return was for you to love me the same way I loved you! Instead, I get this SHIT!”

The camera faltered, then went black. But the sound still came through.

“Don’t even try to come up with an excuse, Kain. I’m through with this. Thank you for saving my hide last week, but I’m not going to play the good little girl and come running back to you this time.” Jade walked out of the room, and the camera turned back on, this time outside of the room. “It’s over, Jason. I’m done.”

She walked off, holding her hands over her face, not noticing the camera pointed at her. Suddenly the camera walked over to the door, and looked in on Kain. He, too, had his hands over his face, and the camera focused on a wrist-taped hand putting a piece of paper on the table near the door. Then the camera turned off.

Quinton Army's Meeting #012

"Let the meeting come to order!!"

Guess what? That's right, your favourite band of warriors, having their weekly on-air meeting. It wouldn't be a Courage if there wasn't one of these. And in the past, it's been documented that even without the leader being around, meetings would still be held.

Quinton May, now back in the ACW for good after taking some time off to battle his newest enemy in rival federation -- thReat -- paced up and down, arms folded, with a smile on his face. QA was really flourishing as of late, and the boys hadn't even completely tapped into their potential.

That was something Quincy could take heart in; that there was so much more to come from himself, and his troops.

"Morris! Howard! What is on the agenda tonight for you boys? And don't say you're gonna be playing tennis. We talked about this, and the decision was that Pete Sampras is NOT SEXIER THAN ME! Anyways, yes, what do you have planned?"

Howard frowned in dejection, as he looked down at his tennis attire that he would now have to get out of. Morris laughed at his partner, before clearing his throat and bringing his hand up to his head, in a good ol'-fashioned salute. Why, you ask? What am I, Mr Know-It-All?

.... I digress. :)

"SIR, YES FREAKING YES SIR! WE ARE JUST GOING TO FREAKING BE ON GUARD, BECAUSE FREAKING LIAM AND FREAKING DRAKE MIGHT JUST FREAKING SNEAK ATTACK US! OTHER THAN THAT, I HAVE A FREAKING MATCH WITH LIAM TO FREAKING PREPARE FOR, AND I CAN'T FREAKING WAIT TO KICK HIS FREEEEEEEEE-AAAAAKING ARSE!"

Quinton nodded, pleased that Janitor Morris seemed to be all pumped for his titanic battle with Liam later. And the fact that Morris had trained all week was an indication that there wasn't going to be any walkover. Hell, the little exchange during the Liam/Janitors match last week proved that Morris could more than match Liam in any situation.

However, the Dictator was somewhat confused at the tall freak's attire.

"That's wicked cool, Morris. But why the hell are you wearing an army uniform, and why are you saluting while talking?"

Morris smiled sheepishly, as Howard & 006.392 & even Damnson, who was again sitting cross-legged in the dark, all turned to look at Janitor M.

"I... ALL MY OTHER FREAKING CLOTHES ARE IN THE FREAKING WASH! AS FOR THE FREAKING SALUTE, I FREAKING SAW THIS ON TELEVISION, WHERE IT WAS SAID THAT SALUTING MAKES YOU FREAKING COOL, LIKE JOHN FREAKING TRAVOLTA!"

May slapped his forehead, as the rest started giggling like giddy schoolgirls. Morris kept his cool though, unwavering, as Quincy shook his head. The red-haired Canadian was smiling, however; with comedians like Morris, there was never a dull moment when you were with the Army.

"Change out of that later, Morris. Wear some of that crappy ACW clothing they've got you & Howard modeling, or steal a janitor's outfit from one of your former pals. Anyways, yes, you guys have a plan.

006.392 & Damnson, you guys have something special lined up with me as well. And I think that covers everything for tonight! Okay, good stuff. Just be on your toes, seeing how Vincent is back in the ACW as well tonight.

That's all! Howard, Morris -- DISMISSED!"

Morris & Howard high-fived each other and began discussing about the strategy M should employ during his match later with Liam, leaving 006.392 & Damnson alone with Quinton. The YOTN was no longer smiling, as he knew that Quinton now had a chance to reprimand him some more, over the stunt the kid pulled last week.

Ditching Damnson to have a quick fix in the ring.

The mission Quinton had sent 006 on -- picking fights with random people and losing -- had made the YOUTH OF THE NATION addicted to fighting and stuff. That wasn't the goal Quincy hoped to achieve, but tonight, he had a plan that would remedy it and in the process... complete 006.392's special training that spanned a month or so.

"You know what we have to do tonight, yes?" Quinton asked 006 as the red-haired Canadian approached his protégé.

006.392 nodded, as Damnson began clapping his hands excitedly. "Good. Prepare everything you need, because it's going to be quite the eye-opener for you!" May continued, before dismissing 006 with a wave of his hand. The YOTN immediately turned on his heels and scooted out of the boiler-room, a sense of urgency in his step.

Now, what did The Dictator mean by his words? 

Eye-opener?

Just wait, fools.

Drake Nefarian Vs. Tam McKilloch

  

"Pity" by Drowning Pool.

Huzzah? That was the word most fans said as the aforementioned song began playing over the speakers. But within seconds, jeers began raining down on the ring, as DRAKE NEFARIAN made his way out, dressed simply in off-white denim jeans and black shoes. His right fist was taped up, as the former boxer with unknown history descended down the ramp, smirking at the response he was getting.

He was, after all, part of The British Army.

As Drake got into the ring and began to stretch out in the corner, the current song was faded out... and the house lights dimmed slightly, just as a weird song entitled "Flower Of Scotland" began to pipe through the PA system.

Yet another newcomer to the organisation. And this one was from Scotland, too. One-half of the newest tandem in the ACW, the Flying Scotsmen.

This was Tam McKilloch. And he wasn't wearing a kilt, as most expected once the introductions were belted out. Instead, a white tanktop and black jeans with black boots was what McKilloch was sporting, as he stepped out onto the stage and soaked in the decent positive response he was getting. Maybe it was only because of his opponent...

But hell, if it's your first night and you're getting cheered, are you gonna argue?

Standing at 6'0", 240 lbs... McKilloch was pleased to find that Drake Nefarian was only an inch or so taller at him, judging from what the announcer had to say. But as the Scotsmen rolled into the ring, he watched as the former boxer yanked the microphone out of the announcer's hand and signalled for the latter to get out of the ring.

Drake had something to say? This was most interesting.

What was even more interesting that the awful theme song of Tam's was finally cut... ;)

"Alright, I'm going to make this pretty simple. This is my so-called wrestling debut, but if I am to fight a man who usually wears a skirt and has awful breath, then I'm going to want to wait for my ACTUAL wrestling debut.

I'll tell you what, Scotty. You look pretty tough, I'll admit it. And most Scottish people are more of mindless brawlers than anything. What I propose is a little boxing exhibition, just to make things interesting. This being BOTH our debuts, I'm sure you don't want to mess up, and look like a worse wrestler than that SilverHAWK fella.

15 rounds, each being 3 minutes long. The standing 10-count will be enforced. Only rule is... no straightforward kicks. Otherwise, it's pretty much anything goes -- whatever you feel comfortable with. Low blows, biting, even weapons if you have to resort to that. That's about it, Scotty.

You up for this?"

Nefarian lowered the microphone, and watched as a buzz of excitement broke out in the crowd. Most of them had never even seen a boxing match before, and to see a resemblance of one in the ACW would sure as hell be amazing, they figured. Of course, they weren't stupid -- they knew that this was simply a ploy by Drake, seeing how the rules basically benefited him.

But Tam, being a true Scotsmen, nodded his head. He was never one to back down from any challenge of any sort, and tonight wasn't going to be a night to start acting like a coward.

The referee, now aware of the rules, climbed into the ring and signalled for the bell to be rung. Drake tossed the microphone away and cracked his knuckles, with the crowd going wild as the two combatants began circling around the ring, both holding straight faces as they measured each other up. McKilloch charged in and... amazingly, hit Nefarian with a side jab. Nefarian geared up came up with nothing but air in an attempt to land an overhead right was barely dodged by The Scotsman. The Scotsman staggered back and looked in at Nefarian before charging back in sending his shoulder into Nefarian’s midsection ramming him into the ropes, McKilloch followed with repeated shoulder blocks which drew loud cheers from the crowd until...

*CRUNCH*

Rising knee-lift by Nefarian sent The Scotsman stumbling away yet again. Thinking he got his bearings straight, The Scotsman stalked forward with his fists up around his chin, but he stalked right into...

POW! A right cross. POW! Left hook to the abdominal. BAM! Another right to the face, and Tam was down! The crowd began to jeer loudly; only about a minute or so into the match and McKilloch was mopping the mat with his back, as the count started up...

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

"YAAAAAAAAAAAY!"

The Scotsman got to his feet as the referee stood between the two as he asked The Scotsman if he was okay to continue. McKilloch began bouncing on his feet and shaking the cobwebs out of his head. As the referee moved out of the way, McKilloch did something that would make any boxer roll over in his grave, and made Drake a wee bit regretful.

A wonderful shuffle of the feet, almost resembling The Ali Shuffle! The crowd popped big time, as they would if they saw a Spinaroonie or whatever. Tam was having a hell of a time in the environment. And Drake didn't like it one bit.

With fury, Nefarian charged forward. Wild left swing... missed. Wild right swing... missed. SO much for being an expert boxer back in the day. The Scotsman darted in and nailed a jab to the body, prior to darting back out, not giving the British Army hired gun a chance to retaliate.

Just then, the bell rang; the round was over, and both men headed back to their corners.

Both men sat on their stools that had been thrown into the ring during the first round, in the corner as the faux corner men fixed cuts, and sprayed the water in their mouths and on their heads to cool them off. No advice given, this was a battle that was going to be fought by the two men in the ring who mattered.

And also, this wasn't a real boxing match. ;)

Nefarian was pissed with himself, seeing how he wasn't doing as well as he would have liked, and in his element, as well. He stood, loosening up for the round. McKilloch saw this got up as well, as charged forward and swung...

his funkin' stool at Drake!

The crowd's joy was shortlived, as Nefarian moved out of the way and nailed a hard right to Tam’s midsection, forcing the latter to double over. Coughing, the Scotsman stumbled forward and realising that Drake was laughing... directed a punch straight on to Nefarian’s jewels, now forcing the former boxer to crouch in agony as well.

Now with some confidence instilled in him, Tam McKilloch was back up, left arm guarding his midsection but with his right, he swung a hard punch that rocked Nefarian back into the ropes. He patted his right elbow, as he backed away from Nefarian and then he began to spin as he went for a discus elbow shot.

A risky move, that didn't pay dividends, as Drake back body-dropped The Scotsman out of the ring! And right onto the ringside matting with nothing else to break his fall. The crowd exploded into hissing and jeering yet again, as the count began..

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

The bell rang! The crowd exploded! Nefarian won?! In two rounds? The ref went and explained to the former boxer that the match wasn’t over; only the round was, and that McKilloch was saved by the bell. When it slowly crept into the fans what happened as they saw The Scotsman get helped back into the ring, they began to cheer loudly. They wondered if it would come back to haunt Drake.

Tam stood with his back against the corner with his eyes rolling back into his head. He tried to shake the feeling out but it seemed like it just wouldn’t go away. However, the fact was that he was schooling Drake, and that made him smile a bit.

Water was sprayed in his face as they hoped to wake him up. Finally, the bell rang; it was time for round three. Both men got off their stools, with the British Army hired gun promising himself that this round was going to be different.

WHAM! Tam scored with a brilliant hook to the face. Nefarian cursed and faked a right hook as a response, forcing McKilloch to try and block that. With the Scotsman's body exposed, Drake got down to business.

This was it, he thought.

Right! 

Left! 

Right! 

Left! 

Then, a vicious headbutt. 

Followed with a killer uppercut, the impact of which was heard throughout the arena. The Scotsman hit the mat hard and the crowd erupted into jeers again. There was a about a minute and a half left in the round, meaning Tam had no chance of saved by the bell this time.

Drake Nefarian snorted, at how easy it was to finally deliver the knockout blow after having been hotly contested in the first two rounds. He raised his right arm up in the air and looked down at his opponent, feeling proud of himself. The referee’s count ensued as The Scotsman attempted to bring himself to a stand in the spinning carousel that was the world around him...

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

That was all she wrote. 

A decent effort by Tam, but in the end, maybe it wasn't too wise to get led into a match were Drake would naturally excel at. As "Pity" by Drowning Pool began to play over the speakers again, however, the crowd weren't hissing like crazy.

Instead, they were on their feet, jumping for joy pretty frantically.

Two words, people.

EL JANITORS.

Howard & Morris raced out, as quickly as they could, and knocked Drake down to the canvas face-first. Well, Morris did since he was the first into the ring. By the time Howard got his old arse into the ring, Janitor M had already begun the vengeful stomping to the back of Drake's head.

But it was a sight to behold, as El Janitors were taking the offensive -- which was quite rare of them, to be honest -- in this increasingly bitter war between Quinton's Army & The British Army. However, just as the fans were beginning to sing along in jubilation, they noticed a couple of Drake's buddies coming out.

Liam. And WAVE 1 of the Brit teenagers.

Thankfully enough, the UNOFFICIAL ACW Tag Team Champions noticed this and made their swift exit from the ring, barely outpacing the teenagers as the chase through the sea of humanity that was the crowd ended in Morris & Howard managing to make a successful escape.

But in the ring, as Liam helped Drake up, one thing was made sure.

The backlash .vindication would be... deadly.

Winner: Drake Nefarian

VIN - CENT SUCKS! VIN - CENT SUCKS!

"Time" by Taproot.

You know what to do. Right? No?

Bring on the hate, people. After an extended leave of absence from ACW, Vincent Pembridge was back. Deep in the pit of their stomachs, most had a feeling that they wouldn't like what they would be exposed to. But now, they had something to throw back at the Scorpion.

His defeat in thReat-land. His MASSIVE defeat in thReat-land, excuse me.

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 appeared from the back and immediately scowled, as the hate grew... but this time, there was more taunting added to the mix. The arena's lights went out, save for a blue spotlight focused on the callous fighter. Pembridge slowly walked towards the ring, the aura of contempt hanging heavily in the air. The taunting, however, was getting louder and more vocal.

This wasn't going to be good for the British Degenerate.

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 empty ring. Immediately following, the Scorpion turned to the section of the crowd which were seated behind the announce team and sneered at them.

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

I can see this coming over my mind.
Cause you're right.
It's life, my light!

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

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

Our minds, Our minds, Our minds.
Because you're right, you're right...
Inside our minds.
Minds. Minds. Minds.

Minds.

The house lights returned, as song came to an end. Vince placed cracked his knuckles, getting ready to greet everyone in attendance with his coarse vocabulary. A microphone was passed to the Scorpion, who picked it up and started to slowly walk around the ring, as the crowd's hate generated an all-too familiar chant. This time, there was more bite to the chant.

It was more... melodious, than anything.

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

Vincent bit his lower lip, and shook his head, surprised that the chants packed more of a taunting tone to it, as opposed to the hateness and vengefulness he'd become accustomed to. Vince knew why, however, but he wasn't going to bring it up. Even if they did, or tried to.

"Well, you lot seem to be happy tonight."

Or maybe, he was.

"Anything to do with what happened over in thReat?"

Massive cheers broke out. He had played right into the crowd's trap, and given them the chance to taunt him again. They stood on their feet now, resuming the throwing of garbage, while readying an all-new chant for the Scorpion. One he would remember forever, they hoped.

"YOU FUCKED UP!"
"YOU FUCKED UP!"
"YOU FUCKED UP!"
"YOU FUCKED UP!"
"YOU FUCKED UP!"
"YOU FUCKED UP!"
"YOU FUCKED UP!"
"YOU FUCKED UP!"
"YOU FUCKED UP!"
"YOU FUCKED UP!"

Vincent sniggered, as he stopped pacing and absorbed everything the crowd were giving him. Crotch chops, middle fingers, hairy asses of a select-few, big boobs of a select few; he'd seen it all before, so it was nothing new for him. However, on those occasions, he simply ignored this sort of thing.

Tonight, he was going to throw it back into their faces.

"Yes, and so did each of your parents, whilst in the act of conceiving you."

Silence. A wonderful retort by the Scorpion, you had to admit. Grinning now, he resumed his pacing, with the added swagger to his step. The jeers began to rain down on him again, and just as Vince attempted to get right into whatever he wanted to say, he was met with the theme of the century.

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

Again, he shook his head. On some level, he loved it. But on days like this, where he simply wanted to say whatever had to be said and get back to work, it irked the holy living hell out of him. Dare he show it?

Of course not. That would be career suicide.

"I'm glad you lot hate me so much, but I just came out here to reintroduce myself to you cunts, due to my little leave of absence recently. I'm Vincent Pembridge, cunts and twats. Gits, you're not worth mentioning. Wankers, please continue chewing on your bollocks.

I'm the leader of The British Army, and also, the company's Scorpion Champion. The only real fighter in this promotion, actually, so it makes sense for me to be holding the title.

Now, onto the point of me being out here. It seems that there's been a recent influx of so-called talent into the federation. That's perfectly fine, more cunts to insult, and all that bollocks. Grand stuff, really. However, your beloved SilverHAWK has taken it upon himself to appoint one of them as the challenger to my Scorpion Title. Meaning that I now have to fight some bugger by the name of Forme Carlos tonight.

Wit my title on the line.

I've got no problems with that. Not a bloody problem at all. However, if SilverHAWK is so keen on shoving these new talentless cunts down my throat, and your throats, I suggest he throw that sodding Television Title into the mix. Seeing how that idiot, Alias, decided to give it up for the greater good.

Either that, or simply give the Television Title to me. Yes, now that I think about it, that'd be a good idea. I'm the most deserving one, anyways. But in any case, there is an underlying message to all of this.

SilverHAWK. You're a sodding cunt, and you've got one hell of a surprise coming your way.

Thank you, good night."

Vincent threw the microphone down and smiled again, as he began to exit the ring. The crowd were confused, and enraged. The Scorpion had managed to insult them, the new talent in the company, Alias, and SilverHAWK all at one go. However, the warning at the end left them perplexed.

And worried. Immensely worried. They knew what Pembridge was capable of.

So, what did they do?

.... Whaddaya think, smarty pants?!

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

Like as if nobody already knew that, heh.

Long Ride

The desire to be accepted was there. But Joey & Andi wanted it to be a reality. They wanted the yearning to end. They had a sinking feeling that it was going to be harder to prove themselves than they initially thought. It all seemed too mammoth for the two young men, so another cunning plan was drawn up.

This time, it took two hours. And it required the men who actually got them into the organisation in the first place.

"Hey guys, what's up?" Andi asked cheerily as he and his brother walked into a clearing backstage, where El Janitors were seated at a table, reading magazines.

And guess what? They were wearing ACW sweatshirts again. As part of a sponsorship dealio, Howard & Janitor were sporting ACW clothing, in an attempt to get the word out... about how cool ACW was and all that stuff. Of course, El Janitors were chosen to be the models, since they're so sexy and whatnot.

Neither one of the Janitors replied to Andi, however. Being engrossed in the magazines they were reading, it was hard to respond. Andi frowned, not anticipating this... and Joey, the overeager one, decided to spring into action. Even if nobody asked him to.

"HEY, NIGGAS!"

Andi froze in his boots, ad contemplated turning to hit his insensitive & dimwitted brother. However, Morris & Howard actually looked up to acknowledge Joey, with smiles and frantic waving of hands. Joey waved back, pleased that he'd manage to establish contact. Noticing this, Andi decided to let it slide.

Until there arose a time to talk about it, of course.

The two brothers walked over, glad that phase one of their plan -- establishing contact -- had been initiated. Now came the tricky part, which involved a little deceit.

Andi wasn't sure himself and brother Joey were mentally capable of pulling it off.

"Hey guys, I was just wondering about something!"

Having returned to burying their eyes in the pages of the respective magazines they were reading, it was Morris who looked up, to attend to Andi's statement.

"OF COURSE, YOU FREAKING CAN! NO FREAKING PROBLEM!"

The Kole Brothers were naturally stunned. Just like that, it had been accomplished. And pretty damn easily, too. Imagine their shock, however, when Morris got up from his chair and began frantically fumbling with his belt buckle. Doing so, he began to pull down his pants...

"WHOA! What are you doing?!" Joey shrieked at the top of his lungs.

That caught Howard's attention, as he looked up and surveyed the scene that was unfolding before his eyes. Andi, meanwhile, also looked nervous, wondering just what Janitor M was up to.

"UNZIPPING MY FREAKING PANTS SO THAT YOU CAN FREAKING GIVE ME A BLOWJOB! FREAKING DUHHHH~!!"

Andi Kole slapped his head, sighing at the same time. Howard started giggling like a schoolgirl, whilst Morris -- managing to realise that a blowjob wasn't what the Kole brothers were gonna ask for -- zipped up his pants and searched for his belt, as Joey sighed in relief.

What a misunderstanding that was, eh?

"In which case, NO. We cannot accept you into The Army, no matter how much you beg. Sorry, guys, Quincy's orders! You've gotta prove your worth, just like I did. And just like Morris did. It's hard work, I know, but it'll all be worth it in the end. Believe me!"

The two brothers that resembled an odd couple sighed collectively, before trudging away, disappointed. Their plan to get into QA the easy way hadn't worked, and it was back to the drawing boards for them. Time was on their side, yes... but neither had patience nor the confidence.

It was going to be a long ride for The Kole Brothers.

You're Late

The doors to the arena opened, as a local techie pulled on the outside lever. 

"Shouldn't have to be waitin' fo' yo ass to open it now should I, son." 

A*Dubbs spoke to the techie in a gentle type of unkind voice. The techie looked at him as he walked into the building, strap on shoulder. Where was his gym bag, ready for action? It was in the hands of the techie behind him. 

"Would you hurry the fuck up, nucka? I ain't got time to fuck around, I'm a champion! Who tha hell you think I be kid, ICU? Let's get this shit movin!" 

A*Dubbs clapped his hands, signaling for the techie to move faster, which he did. As soon as the techie caught up with Dubbs, he was off to find his locker room. 

A*Dubbs had entered the building. 

"Maannn I'd tell you lil nucka, tonight is bout to be off tha charts. Got no title match, Dante Inferno in the building banged up, tonight PLEASE believe mah, that punk bitch is bout to pay!" 

A*Dubbs tried to say more before he was cut off by the commanding voice of his boss. 

"Excuse me sir." 

A*Dubbs stopped in his tracts, before displaying his sinister trademark of a smile. 

"What up murdah? You stayin away from those cops hot on yo trail?" 

SilverHAWK smirked at A*Dubbs insults. He was a 2-Time ACW World Heavyweight Champion, he had no use for wit-games with the current United States Champ. But for A*Dubbs, he would make an exception. 

"Problem with you is Dubbs, for the most time, I think this is how they say it 'your mouth is cashing cheques that your ass can't cash', yeah I think that's about right." 

"Yeah, I hope those fucked up knees can hold up long enough for you to make it back to ya office, big man!" 

A*Dubbs began uncontrollable laughter, as did the techie carrying his bags. A*Dubbs went for a high five, and the techie replied, before A*Dubbs fiercely pimp slapped the young man. Dubbs grabbed his bag, looking at the techie currently on the ground. 

"Wasn't that funny, son." 

"I hope you get a kick out of that shit, Dubbs, knowing that that's the only man you can slap around in these parts." 

A*Dubbs looked at HAWK with a sly expression covering his frame. Dubbs got into the face of his boss.

"Nah, I don't think he's the only one." 

Both men stood face to face, explosions on the brink, before SilverHAWK took a step back with a sly smile on his face. 

"That ain't what I came to tell you. My point is, quite simply you're late and for being late, for the past 3 shows, I think you deserve a penalization of some sorts, Al. Therefore, tonight, in the squared circle here on Courage, you got yourself a Non-Title Match." 

Dubbs smirked at the crowd's reaction to the 'punishment'. 

"Man, nice one big guy, good to see the office seat isn't fucking with your brain enough to kill that almighty wit of yours. As for the opponent?" 

"Let's see. You're a tough guy, pretty nice high flyer in the ring, lets give you somebody worth being in the ring with your presence. Tonight, you go one on one with Vince Jacobs." 

The crowd went crazy for the intense match-up, which would come to them live from their hometown. 

"Hawk-eyed, when is yo ass bout to learn. You can't send men in to do a corporal's job, if you want this nigga put out of business."

At this point Dubbs pushed the right code to get into SilverHAWK's side. Nose to nose, Dubbs continued. 

"You gotta do it ya damn self." 

Dubbs stayed in HAWK's face for a few more seconds, before smiling at him, and walking away, bag and title in hand.  SilverHAWK had barked at a dog, but only time would tell him if the move had been the right one.

Deal With It, Cunt!

Coming out of the room, Vincent Pembridge scratched away at the facial hair that was growing on his neck. Busy nights with few hours of sleep, it meant that The Scorpion hardly had time to bother about shaving. But with a chance to defend his Scorpion Title, the Manucian was aiming to look good while do so.

In both senses of the word.

Black sleeveless tanktop, gray denim jeans, and black boots. Of course, the person that was tagging along with his walk down the hallway wasn't dressed to fight. A blue polo-tee, with khaki bermudas and black track shoes; that was Bobby Knickerson for you, folks.

Not as if Pembridge minded. In fact, all Vincent was caring about now was his opponent in his upcoming fight; a newcomer. Of all people, Vince thought, SilverHAWK had to choose a newcomer by the name of Forme Carlos as the challenger to the Scorpion Title. Naturally, the Scorpion thought it was bloody blasphemous, as was the fact that Knickerson had no real direction as far as the latter's life was concerned, but Vince shrugged it off.

The fight would serve as a workout routine.

"This is going to be a bloody walk in the park," he muttered to Knickerson, who nodded.

Unknown to the two men, they had just walked past another newcomer, who was seated on a chair and reading the newspaper, with nothing planned for him on the night. No introductory promo, no debut match. The whole night, he'd simply met up with fellow newcomers and familiarized himself with the senior citizens of the company.

But having heard what Vincent had just said, Gabriel So'ialu stood up and scowled. The fact that he looked as if he could eat the British Degenerate up didn't even register into Knickerson's head as he turned around to stare at So'ialu, noticing that the latter had begun staring at them.

"Any problem here?" Vince asked, realising that Bobby wasn't by his side and instead, stopped to stare at Gabriel.

Knickerson snorted, in an attempt to act cool, before he backed away. Gabriel continued the staring, however; he wasn't trying to act cool or whatever. He had something to get off his massive chest.

"Yeah. Walk in the park, eh? I talked to Forme earlier, he seems so pumped to be fighting someone as established like yourself, Mr Pembridge. And the fact that it's for that little title of yours you forced to be accepted... wow, he's so ready to take you on.

I do recall you mentioning many weeks ago -- when I was watching Courage, waiting for my acceptance notice -- that your little plan in thReat would be a walk in the park as well. Now, I wonder how THAT turned out, eh?

Right, you crashed and burn!"

Massive roars from the crowd in the arena could be heard, as Vincent now slowly began to advance towards Gabriel. Again, the fact that So'ialu was much more physically imposing didn't seem to matter here. The Scorpion of Manchester was never one to cower from any challenge, anyways.

You might even say he invented the word. Okay, that's ridiculous, but you get my point, right?

Anyways... almost nose-to-nose now, Vincent looked up at the newcomer, obviously formulating a retort. Either that, or the man was seriously thinking of getting it on with So'ialu right then and there. Knickerson stood at one side, a tad bit afraid of what could and looked like happening.

"So, you watch me on the telly, eh? I must mean so bloody much to you. And by the way, I'm just wondering -- you're probably loads bigger than that twat, Forme. Why the bloody hell didn't SilverHAWK pick you to fight me, instead? I mean, the sod and I aren't the best of mates. He'd surely want me to have a ball of a time in my title-defense.

Oh, that's bloody right. You just suck complete bollocks. I have a feeling you're going to be hearing that a lot around here, mate... so I suggest you do one thing.

Deal with it, cunt!"

With a snigger, Vincent arrogantly turned around and walked away, not wanting to waste his time with So'ialu anymore. Knickerson also smirked, glad that Pembridge managed to save some face and verbally abuse Gabriel in the process.

As for Gabriel? He stood there, raging mad. What else could he do?

Oh, yeah. Deal with it...

ETV: The Final Episode?

The Mexican voice is heard again on the big screen. But this time the camera wasn’t being held. It was on the floor. And only two sets of feet were seen. One obviously looking like Jason Kain’s pants, but the other less recognizable.

“What do you know!?” Kain’s voice blew over the PA.

“Eyyy, mang. The camera knows more than me, mang.” The Mexican voice sputtered.

“Well, at least you’ve learned more English since the last time I saw you… but that still leaves me with unanswered questions.” Kain’s feet moved closer to the strange flashy wrestling boots. “You left me a letter saying you had some info for me.”

“Yes, yo tengo, mang…” The voice swallowed hard. “But, you know, I though you be so kind as to do me a favor for it.”

“I don’t play games with imbeciles.”

“I’m no imbecile, sir… a pervert, maybe… an unsuccessful porn director, definitely… But I’m no imbecile. I just thought you might want Jade to forgive you.”

Kain’s feet backed off, and the flashy boots slowly stepped away from the wall.

“I say, you get me a job with this company, I get you the tapes that prove your innocence… Easy? Right?”

“Easy!? My ass that’s easy… you have a record of zero wins, seventy-eight losses!”

“Mang, I need a job, you want your girlfriend back… plain, and simple. Good trade, I’d… como se dice? Ah, yes… Good trade, I’d say.” The man stepped over to the camera and picked it up, pointing it directly at Kain, whose face wasn’t looking at all happy about the situation.

“You’ll get your job.” Kain sneered, then walked out of the room.

Forme Carlos Vs. Vincent Pembridge

  

“When I’m gone” by 3 doors down

The crowd freezes as their attention goes to the entryway to see who this may be for they never heard this in ACW anytime before this time.

A man slowly steps out as the arena goes silent and they stare, the man is Forme Carlos, he begins to throw off energy by throwing his arms up and working the crowd. The fans erupt in cheers as the new comer makes his way to the ring. The new comer stands in the ring and starts to show some fancy punches in kicks but he is soon interrupted.

“Time” by Taproot

The crowd starts to boo as the ACW Scorpion champion, Vincent Pembridge, walks out from the back He looks down to the ring sizing up his opponent as a slight smile breaks his emotionless expression. He walks down to the ring and climbs in he looks across to Forme as Forme stares back. Forme walks forward fearlessly it appears.

Now, the challenge was set would Vincent answer?

Vincent walks forward as if it was his duty to show this nobody who is the champion.

They meet in the center of the ring eye to eye, sharing the same air supply, staring one another down.

Smack! A good placed round house kick meets Vincent in the side of the head, Vincent stumbles as Forme starts with lightning quick body shots to Vincent. The crowd gets behind the challenger.

Forme!

Forme!

Forme!

Forme continues the beating on the champion as the fans cheer his name, Forme kicks out Vincent’s leg with a Cat kick, as the champion falls to one knee Forme sizes him up and gives him a solid Side Horse kick to the head.

The champion falls; the arena goes silent as Forme keeps his stance waiting for a re-rise from the fallen champion. The crowd starts the count on the fallen champion.

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

The champion begins to move but he is still laid out on the mat.

6...

7...

Vincent gets up to one knee as Forme goes for a spinning side kick, Vincent sensing the next move by Forme ducks as Forme spins around the champion gives him a solid shot to the kidney knocking him off balance.

Vincent sucks!

Vincent sucks!

Vincent sucks!

The fans drown out the sounds of Vincent beating the air out of Forme. Vincent walks up behind Forme and grabs him by his hair and slowly pulls him up to his feet, he then backs up a little and measures Forme out.

This can’t be good.

Smack! Vincent delivers an astounding Yakuza kick. One female fan screams as Forme’s body goes limp and he falls to his knees, then flat on his face. Vincent smiles and points down to Forme as the screams to the fans and they answer back.

1...

Pembridge sucks!

2...

Pembridge sucks!

3...

Pembridge sucks!

4...

Those chants seem to enrage the champion as he keeps taunting the fans.

5...

Vincent walks over to where Forme’s body is laying and looks down as he chuckles to himself in content thinking that Forme has been destroyed.

6...

A female fans cries out in desperation, Forme get up!

7...

Forme’s foot begins to slide back and forth across the mat; it is as if his black shoe is a power meter the more the fans cheer the faster it moves, bringing Forme power. 

8...

Forme’s eyes snap reopen as his facial expression turns to rage as he jumps up from the mat and looks dead at Vincent who is across the ring busied with the fans. As the boo’s for Vincent clam down and the arena erupts in chatter about what is about to happen and the count stops, Vincent turns.

Forme!

Carlos!

Forme!

Carlos!

The fans begin to cheer as Vincent is met with a flying sidekick from Forme Carlos; the champion stumbles but does not fall. Forme in disbelief freezes up giving the champion a chance to capitalize on Forme’s mistake.

The arena goes silent awaiting the next move for one of the competitors.

Vincent lunges forward and locks Forme up and spins around as he throws Forme clear across the ring, causing Forme to be rolled up in the corner across from the one they were standing at.

Oh my god!

Holy shit dude!

I think he kilt him!

The fans all have their own reaction to what just happened as the count begins.

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

6...

7...

8...

Vincent’s expression slowly grows happier and happier as the count rises.

9...

10...

Forme!

Forme!

Forme!

The fans cry out the name of Forme trying to revive the fallen wrestler they have grown to respect in this match-up so far.

11...

12...

13...

14...

Vincent strides over to Forme and lifts him to his feet before the 15 could be called and the match’s end would have been with it.

Vincent sucks!

Vincent sucks!

Vincent sucks!

Vincent strolls around the body of Forme that is barley standing; he smiles as he goes to take a shot at Forme’s jaw.

A look of shock crushes the champion’s confident expression.

Forme’s head moves to the side making the champion’s punch over throw Forme’s head as Forme does a split and gives Vincent and solid shot to the mid-section.

The air escapes Vincent’s body.

Forme locks him up and hit’s a standing back body drop.

Both men lie there motionless as the count begins.

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

Forme!

6...

7...

The count is stopped as Forme jumps to his feet. Forme looks down at Vincent and peers into Vincent’s glazed over eyes staring up at the lights. Forme walks over and picks up Vincent as he kicks him low and delivers a snap DDT to the champion.

The fans seem shocked as this has gone from a brawl to a wrestling match and they are astounded that Forme is still standing.

Forme rises up as he looks at the ropes and then to where Vincent is calculating the distance in his mind as Vincent slowly begins to rise.

Vincent sucks!

Vincent sucks!

Vincent sucks!

Vincent finally gets to his feet as he turns with this head rolling around as if it is a toy top coming to a end spin, as he finally makes it to 180 degrees he is met with a thunderous spring board elbow knocking him back to the mat.

Forme!

Fans scream as Forme rises.

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

6...

7...

Forme smiles but holds his Box stance as he watches over the fallen champion.

8...

9...

10...

11...

12...

13...

14...

Forme grabs the champion and pulls him to his feet by his armpits. Forme bounces off the rope ashes twists around the champion to the back and reverse DDT’s him.

Both men lie on the mat their chests that are moving up and down very quickly as the air intake increases as they try to gain energy to rise to their feet.

Forme!

Forme!

Forme!

Forme begins to stand as Vincent does the same, Vincent gains his balance first and measures up Forme.

UGH! Vincent let’s out a scream as he swings his right hand.

Smack! Forme’s head swings to his right as he falls back onto the mat. Vincent smiles after landing what could be the match ender.

1...

2...

Vincent smiles as he drags the lifeless body of his opponent to his feet and he circles him screaming derogatory comments to him.

You’re nobody!

You’re nothing!

Vincent locks up Forme and drops him to the mat with a neck breaker.

Forme!

Forme!

Forme!

Forme’s body snaps back up and then plops back down from the impact if that neck breaker the champion just delivered to him.

Both men lay motionless except for the chest in taking and exporting air from the two men.

1...

2...

3...

Vincent climbs to his feet as he stumbles a bit and shakes off the small hit his head took on that last maneuver he preformed on Forme Carlos.

Forme’s eyes start moving as he sits up only to be struck back to the mat by a thunderous kick by the champion.

1...

2...

3...

Vincent goes to the bottom rope and hangs over the ring he pulls out a set of nun chucks, he evilly grins as he turns with the weapon in his hand and stares at Forme lying on the mat.

4...

5...

Forme fights up to one knee as the crowd starts to chant his name.

Forme!

Forme!

Forme!

Forme turns as he is met with Vincent charging him welding a pair of nun chucks Forme ducks, as Vincent’s own momentum sends him into the corner. Forme back kicks hitting Vincent low which in turns makes him lose his grasp on the nun chucks dropping them as they hang on the second rope.

Vincent sucks!

Vincent sucks!

Vincent sucks!

The fans roar in support for the new comer as Forme turns and he grabs the nun chucks.

Hit him! A fan screams from being so into the match.

Forme smiles as the puts on a little expedition showing off with the nun chucks then nailing Vincent in the right side with them fatherly knocking Vincent windless. Vincent slowly falls down to the mat in the corner as Forme continues the nun chuck assault on the champion.

Get up! Forme screams into Vincent’s face.

Woo! Yea! The fans erupt in cheers in support of Forme’s assault on the champion.

Forme smiles as he stands up Vincent and goes behind him and he climbs to the second rope behind the champion.

ROMPA EL MOLDE! Forme screams as he locks Vincent’s head up and he goes spinning off the top rope.

The fans cheer but their cheers stop in mid celebration as Vincent grabs Forme by the head and tosses him over the rope, Forme lands on the apron as Vincent swings a heavy right at Forme.

No! The fans scream as the punch inches closer to Forme.

Forme Ducks the punch and drives his should into the champion’s stomach.

The fans cheer as Forme locks up Vincent’s waist from the outside and he flips over the rope and hits the Loco Hat Dance sending Vincent shoulder/neck first onto the mat. The champion lies there motionless as Forme has a sick, sadistic smile on his face as he gets down by the bottom rope as he reveals a set of Tonfa’s.

The fans don’t know what to do as Forme awaits the rising of the champion.

1...

2...

3...

4...

Vincent rises to a knee with his back turned to Forme as he turns around he is met with a rabid Mexican welding Japanese Tonfa’s, Vincent’s eyes cannot believed the sight as Forme swings the bars up and starts to beat on Vincent.

The fan’s are in shock, as Forme seems to really enjoy beating the champion down to a pulp.

Forme stops as Vincent falls to his knees and Forme turns and raises his hands expecting the fan’s to love him but they are in shock by his actions.

Vincent crawls over to the bottom rope and he pulls out a 60 inch long Eku another martial arts weapon. Forme turns and gets blasted with the Eku.

The champion looks down to Forme and flips him off as he throws the Tonfa’s out of the ring.

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

6...

7...

8...

9...

10...

11...

Vincent Grabs Forme by his hair and raises him up to his feet. Forme stands motionless with glazed over eyes as Vincent chuckles and bounces off the rope he comes back and gives Forme a solid shot to the stomach with the Eku, as Forme falls and hunches over coughing Vincent tosses the Eku out of the ring.

1...

2...

Vincent once again raises Forme and hits a snap suplex on him.

Forme’s body crashes to the mat and he lies there motionless. Vincent stands and looks down at Forme.

That is why I am the champion!

Vincent screams at Forme who is staring to the ceiling of the Arena not showing any signs of being conscious. Vincent goes to the corner and rests as the count begins.

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

6...

Forme!

Forme!

Forme!

The arena lights up in chants for the fallen new comer.

7...

8...

As the chants seem to have no effect the fans still go with it.

9...

10...

11...

12...

Forme begins to fight his way up as he rolls over and pushes himself off the mat in a push up like move launching him to his feet.

Vincent’s eyes lock onto Forme as he slowly makes his way to Forme.

Forme!

Forme!

Forme!

Vincent gets with in a foot of Forme as he is suddenly met with a drop down round house kick to the head knocking him to the mat and also sending Forme to the mat. Forme starts to rise and then he stands over Vincent who is rising as Forme starts to plan his next assault.

Forme looks to the ropes he smiles as Vincent gets up and starts to turn.

Forme runs to the rope and bounces off once again going for a spring board elbow, Vincent sees it coming and he locks Forme up in a full nelson then slams Forme to the mat.

Forme lies there as the count starts.

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

6...

7...

8...

9...

10...

11...

Forme!

Forme!

Forme!

The fans cheer but this time it seems to have no effect at all.

12...

13...

14...

Vincent picks up Carlos and starts to take body shots on Forme.

Forme!

Forme!

Forme!

The arena lights up again as Vincent continues the assault.

Vincent sucks!

Vincent sucks!

Vincent sucks!

Forme’s body shifts with every shot it takes. Vincent throws Forme into the ropes as Forme comes back Vincent goes for a Yakuza kick Forme barely ducks the kick as he slides on the mat and kicks out Vincent’s other leg.

Forme!

Forme!

Forme!

Forme rises and picks up Vincent only to receive a solid chop to the mid-section followed up by a devastating hangman’s DDT.

Curtains! Vincent calls out as he lifts up Forme and tosses him over the top rope retaining his title and ending the match. Pembridge thrust his arms in the air as he made sure he pissed off the fans severely, but as he did so, an unusual rumbling went on through the arena, as suddenly a huge man jumped over the fan barrier with a steel chair equipped. The first striking fact about the man was his white dreadlocks as he flowed into the ring and turned Pembridge around.

Pembridge turned.

Chair swung.

Knocked out Vincent Pembridge.

Ladies and Gentleman...Gabriel So'ialu.

Winner: Vincent Pembridge

Proposition

They were dejected. And had every reason to be, really. Andi & Joey Kole's combined quest to make it big in their lives were failing, as a bid to get respected in the ACW was faltering miserably. All the brothers wanted was to prove to the parents that disowned them that they weren't failures.

Hence, venturing out into an industry they grew up supporting. Pro-wrestling.

Hulk Hogan, Diesel, Razor Ramon, Bret Hart, Lex Luger, the Four Horsemen, the nWo, Degeneration X, 'Stone Cold' Steve Austin, The Undertaker -- just some of the names Joey & Andi can relate to, seeing how the aforementioned superstars and factions were an integral part of the mainstream of the industry throughout the 90's.

A small promotion in Texas was where Andi & Kole first started out, and remained for eight months... before surprisingly being signed by the now-defunct Icons Of Wrestling. It was purely an accident, and Andi knew that, after eavesdropping on a conversation certain IOW officials had regarding the team division.

But the Kole Brothers were gonna make good use of their good luck. At least, until the IOW folded, they promised.

Weeks later, the IOW folded, much to Andi's & Joey's despair. In their hearts, the two youngsters knew that the talent they possessed wasn't nearly enough to get them into a big-time promotion. So, they were out of a job again, with the crushing words of their parents haunting them again.

Being the older of the two, Andi swore to rectify the alarming situation. And they did, manipulating two current ACW superstars and ending up with contracts. El Janitors, the UNOFFICIAL ACW Tag Team Champions, were the men that brought The Kole Brothers into the company. As an added incentive, Andi & Joey found themselves welcomed into one of the few true cliques within the promotion.

Quinton's Army.

And that's where the story ended. Well, not quite; Quincy knew right off the bat that Joey & Andi had no real talent whatsoever and that they were detrimental to his Army. Thus, they had to prove themselves. Something they've failed at for weeks now.

Partially the reason why they were currently slacking in the backstage area, with glum looks on their faces. Andi had his eyes closed, as he sought to think of a way to SOMEHOW make everything work. Joey, in the meanwhile, was beginning to lose faith in the whole thing... but simply kept quiet. Even he knew when to be solemn, considering how bad the situation was.

"So, do you think we should leave now? I mean, as go back to the hotel?" Joey asked, realising the grim truth of reality.

Andi opened his eyes and looked at his brother, before nodding his head. There really wasn't anything left to do on the night, except think of how they failed and formulate a plot to get their goal accomplished, by any means possible.

"Yeah, best to beat the traffic now, like that dude with the broom said earlier..." Andi replied, before he dragged himself out of the chair, and straightened his attire. Joey did likewise, before they were interrupted.

By the rhytmatic sound of boots crashing against the concrete.

Marching. Marching? In the ACW? Meant one of two things -- either SilverHAWK started his own military band, or The British Army were making their way towards the Kole Brothers.

....

And in this case, somewhat thankfully, it was the latter. Six teenagers from TBA were making their way towards Andi & Joey, who looked on... puzzled. They knew who the teenagers were and all, but why were they approaching the brothers?

Eventually, one of the tall teenagers motioned for the rest to stop and stay put, while he advanced towards Andi, well aware of the latter being the older brother.

"Hello, mates. On behalf of The British Army, I've a proposition for you that might just help you lads out. Are you at all interested, or do you wish to retire back to your hotel room right now, to spend the rest of your nights watching horrible movies and eating horrid food?"

Andi & Joey looked at each other, still confused. And shrugged.

"Sure," Andi replied, as Joey nodded along, in full agreeance.

Not as if they had anything better to do, anyways. Despite the fact that the previous week, Liam completely trounced Andi in the ring and left him for dead.

The tall Brit teenager who made contact grinned, and motioned for Andi & Joey to follow him. But as they proceeded down the hallway, Joey was wondering why the hell were the teenagers all smiling so weirdly.

.... Little did the Kole Brothers know, heh.

The Mind of the Hunted



'Man, shit is getting' heavy. Ever since I joined up with Tate and the Crypts. Why did I do that type of shit? Oh yeah, that's right, I didn't have a choice. I didn't even get brought up, I was left for dead 15 years ago, and I ain't quit. I got all of what I have right now from ME. 

Al Willis, and Al Willis alone. 

My parents ain't love me, my brother ain't give a damn about me, now, and all I've ever had, is myself. I got involved with the Crypts because I needed protection. The Brooklyn Bloods got in with me, Kaume and I were supposed to be brothers. 

I ain't want to stab that nigga in the back, he just got too large, I knew his father would give the leadership role to him in the end, it was just a matter of time before he announced it.

Good thing I left the hood while I did. 

Kaume is one to hold a grudge. I'm bout to need back-up won't I. Nah, Al what you thinkin nucka, you got this on lock. If he comes back for more, get his ass in a corner, and then end this before it gets out of hand. 

This is your world nigga, this is YOUR wor... 

...

WHAM! A*Dubbs fell to the floor before he could even finish thinking to himself. 

'What the FUCK?! My head, ahhhh SHIT! Who the fuck was that?! Punk ass white boys always comin' for a nigga when he ain't lookin. Shoulda stayed inside your dressing room to think nigga, KNEW it was a bad idea to stand outside to think. 

God, god that...that hurt!' 

Dubbs passed out on the floor from the impact of the cheap chair shot to the head. He had been knocked senseless, in possibly one of the hardest shots he had ever taken. He had not known who the attacker was, but certain boots laid imprinted in his mind before he passed out. 

And it was within seconds that the name stirred in his mind, the only one 'lame' enough to come from behind in Allen's view, the man whom he hated almost as much as he hated to fathom his name as a prospective opponent at Glory. 

Dante Inferno. 

Black & Blue…The Colors of the Week

Jade hobbled around backstage, surprisingly alone. Kain vowed to not leave her alone for a while, especially since her match with Osyrus last week, which had landed her in the hospital for four days. 

Using her crutches, she slowly moped up and down the hallways, trying to clear her mind. The idea of Isis with Kain’s mask last week in St. Louis haunted her thoughts. The sound of her face hitting the wall after being attacked backstage, repeated throughout her memory. Blood trickling down her face time and time again. Then, taking another beating from Osyrus during her revenge match. 

Jade was a complete and utter mess. It looked as if someone had taken a crowbar to her face. They might as well have, that’s what she felt like too. Her eyes were black and blue. Her cheekbones were cut and bruised as well. The chairshots to her legs and arms left her bruised, and even in the need for crutches to ease the pain of her aching knee. Her ribs were bandaged. Her knee was wrapped. Jade was left battered and beaten to a pulp. 

Unaware of the outcome from last week’s Courage, Hillary Small still wanted to pay Jade back for the rudeness her and Kain had addressed her with at the refreshment stand. Kain had insulted her, and Jade just altogether ignored her. It wasn’t a pretty sight for Hillary.

Waiting in the hallway, she finally spotted the beautiful – well, not so beautiful at this moment – star. She stepped in the middle of the hallway, almost taking up the entire thing, as Jade tried to hobble past her. Hillary stepped in her way for a second time, and Jade finally looked up at her. 

“Listen, I’m not in the mood to sign your damn autograph book. Please just get the hell out of my way so I can go rest!” Jade tried for a third time to walk past Hillary. Again, she blocked her path. “Who the fuck are you anyways?”

Jade stopped and looked up at the beast in front of her. Finally noticing the enormous features on the monster. Her eyes opened as wide as they could at this particular moment and Hillary snarled down at her.

“WHO AM I?” Hillary loomed over Jade, pushing her back towards the wall. Jade didn’t like this situation, as she had been in it last week, and knew only bad things could come of it. “How dare you ask who I am!” Hillary stepped closer to Jade, inching her back further. “But of course you wouldn’t know who I am! I am Hillary Small…the best damn wrestler in this fed!”

Jade smirked slightly. “Tell that to Osyrus! See what happens bitch!” Jade went to step around Hillary and was blocked again. Hillary’s mammoth arm swung up and landed on the wall beside Jade’s head. She flinched, closing her eyes for a second, then opening them to see a smirk on Hillary’s face.

“So what happened to your pretty little face? Did someone finally teach you a lesson?” Hillary brushed Jade’s cheek with the back of her hand. Jade pulled away, and hurriedly ducked out of the way, trying to keep balance on her crutches. 

Now on the other side of the hall, Hillary turned to look at Jade. She was beginning to walk down the hallway away from Hillary, but before she could get even three steps away from her, a large hand grabbed her by the back of the shoulder, making Jade cry out in pain. Hillary had hit one of her darker bruises. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” 

“Away from you!” Jade tried to pull away but was swung around and thrown against the wall. She cringed.

“Back to your little man. You better hurry up, he’s probably waiting for you, back in your locker room.” Hillary raised and eyebrow and watched as Jade tried to rub the small of her back.

She stopped and looked up at Hillary. “Is that what this is all about you dumb bitch?” Jade shook her head then squinted her eyes at Hillary. “Wait a minute. You’re that psycho from last week. The one at the refreshment table. You’re obsessed! Get away from me you psycho-maniac!” Jade pushed herself off the wall and began to walk away. 

As she turned from Hillary, she felt something heavy strike her back. Jade fell to the cement floor. A cinderblock had been tossed in the direction of Jade, and landed on her back, throwing her halfway across the hallway. 

Pushing up slowly, she rolled over, to see Hillary looming over top of her. She kicked Jade a few times in the already bruised and battered ribs, and tossed her to the other side of the hall. Jade tried to sit up, but was coughing up blood again. Hillary grabbed Jade by the hair and pulled her to her feet. “You’re a worthless piece of shit, and don’t deserve the adoration of anyone.” 

Jade coughed one more time, then spit in Hillary’s face. Hillary was disgusted and threw Jade down the hall. Jade landed on her hands and knees. Hillary wiped away the blood and spit from her face and was infuriated. She approached Jade and bent down to pick her up by the hair once again. Jade pulled away quickly and grabbed a nearby crutch. 

Swinging with all her might, Jade broke the crutch over Hillary’s head. She dropped like a sack of potatoes. Jade collapsed as well, not only from exhaustion, but from pain as well. All she saw was red. Her own blood soaked down her face from a reopened wound, and Jade didn’t even have enough strength to wipe it way. 

Jade finally pulled herself up as Hillary was coming to. Standing, Jade grabbed the other crutch and did the same as the last. Hillary was out cold. Tossing the half of the crutch to the ground beside the others, she spat one more time on Hillary and wiped her blood soaked face on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “We’ll see you next week bitch…” with that, Jade limped away, sliding a hand down the wall for support as she shuffled down the hall towards her dressing room.

Regrouping

The backstage area, which is always a hotbed for all and any kinds of activity, was suddenly bustling with life once again, after a period of solitude... as Liam & Drake Nefarian -- together forming .vindication -- led their troops through the area, and down a hallway. All of them with defiant looks on their faces.

They were the core of The British Army. The teenagers; restless, misunderstood, hungry for money, eager to beat up some "brainless Yanks" as they so eloquently put it.

Advancing quietly into a locker-room, Liam and Drake motioned for a quick assembly, following the sneak attack earlier by the UNOFFICIAL ACW Tag Team Champions -- El Janitors. The situation simply had to be rectified, and sooner rather than later. The weeks that had gone by hadn't been particularly splendid for The British Army... but Liam was aiming to change all that, with one decisive plan.

Vincent P claimed that everything was under control. That statement sounded like bullshite to the Irishman, but it wasn't his place to say anything, seeing how he was legally bound to the Scorpion. Pesky lawyers and their weird contracts.

Nefarian, on the other hand, was still trying his best to settle in. Not just in the United States, not just in the ACW. But in general, as far as The Big Picture was concerned. He was doing well so far, but business was about to pick up in the weeks to come... and everybody needed to be firing on cylinders.

"Lads, we have a special mission to accomplish tonight. It requires strategic & crafty manipulation of speech, coupled with great powers of persuasion. It's a very risky mission, but I'm sure some of you lot will be able to step up and do us proud, aye?

Oh, did I mention? Senior Partners are watching tonight!"

With those words, Liam smiled at the number of hands that were raised in the air; looking over his shoulder, at Nefarian who was still perspiring profusely due to his match with McKilloch earlier, the two realised that a potentially wonderful victory could be picked up on the night.

One that would rock the foundations of the four men involved.

Knock Knock

A few hard knocks were heard at the door of the busy co-owner of the ACW Company. 

"Come in, Gonz."

The expected co-owner was supposed to be at the door for a short-term meeting to discuss the decreasing numbers in Courage Ratings, but he was in for a certain surprise. 

"HAWK."

A*Dubbs walked straight to the desk of his boss. 

"Fuck a restraining order, did you see what that bitch ass mafucka did to me a couple of minutes ago?" 

"Indeed I did."

"So what the FUCK is bout to happen, nucka?" 

"I've already taken care of it. Dante Inferno is barred from your match tonight. That is, if you decide to leave my office in the next say, 5 seconds." 

"That's good and dandy boss, good to see you ain't all that much of a punk bitch I make you out to be." 

SilverHAWK could take it. He curled his lips, and in the proper presidential manner, he excused the comment made at his expense. 

"Goodbye Mr. Willis." 

A*Dubbs stared SilverHAWK down, searching in his dark eyes for the reason why he would not react to one of Dubbs insults. Being fed up, and with all that was on his hands already, Dubbs left the office calmly. 

"Now for payback." 

He walked, with revenge on the brain. 

A*Dubbs went looking for the Goliath of a man, searching for the man who had stolen his consciousness earlier. 

Suddenly, the image of Dante Inferno's room sparked his senses. 

"Oh Dantteee..." He whispered.

Taking the bat he had carried with him to HAWK's office, Dubbs knocked on his door with it, before busting in with a batters stance. 

"FUCK YOU AT HONKEY?!" He screamed at the top of his voice so people down the hall could hear him.

Dubbs searched around the room, before out of the bathroom emerged the giant 300 pounds of muscle. Dante charged at Dubbs, before catapulting him through the cemented wall using his right arm. 

Both men were impacted from the damage, but it did not take but seconds for them to get up and engage in battle. Rights and lefts tattooed both of their faces, before Inferno got the better end of things. Dante slugged Dubbs with a right that sent him flying but still on his feet, before Dubbs used the momentum of a running start to slug Inferno back in the face with a left. Dante rocketed back, but remained on his feet as well. 

Dubbs picked up the golden bat he had carried throughout his voyage to HAWK's office, and with a desperate thrusts of his left arm, Dubbs hit Dante in the nuts. Dante gave a large shriek, before bending over, leaving his back vulnerable to Dubbs inevitable lefty bat-shot, which sent him on all fours, down and out. 

"Don't fuck with me white boy, you might get unlucky and have me follow up on a threat to put you out of this game forever." Dubbs let Dante know as he walked away, wiping the blood from his nose. 

Liam Vs. Janitor Morris

  

"6 Hard Months" by Marilyn Manson. 

The lights went out, and everyone instantly knew what was up next. Liam was to take on Janitor Morris, in a match stemming from their encounter in the Liam/Janitors handicapped match on the previous edition of Courage. Speaking of Liam, where was he? Where was he, huh? 

DUH... as the lights came back on, there he was. In the middle of the ring, with a smirk on his face. He was someone who hardly spoke much; only when it mattered. But already, he'd gained his own bunch of haters. Not because of him being affiliated with The British Army, but because of the way the Irishman did things. 

Ruthless, callous, methodical. It was just scary to see. 

Up next, was "Science" by System Of A Down. And the low jeers quickly transformed into massive cheers, as Janitor Morris marched out from the back. He stopped momentarily, to wave at the fans, before refocusing his attention on the man inside the ring. Who'd face become an enemy, in the ever-intensifying war between the two Armies in the ACW. 

"MORRIS ROCKS!" 
"MORRIS ROCKS!" 
"MORRIS ROCKS!" 
"MORRIS ROCKS!" 

With those chants urging him on, Morris sprinted into the ring, ready to open a can of whoop ass. But as he slid in, Liam immediately got to work, driving boot after boot straight down into the back of Janitor M’s head. The cheers quickly died down as Liam looked like he wasn't gonna stop, before he quickly picked him up to his feet and set Morris up for a... get this, a vertical suplex. Morris blocked the move, however, and responded with... a snap suplex. 

Looked as if both men had been training hard for this one. 

Morris got right back on his feet and waited as Liam slowly got up before he caught him with a big right hand to the head and scooped him up into the air... then slamming him back down to the mat. With the fans delighted, Morris took a step back, then leaped into the air, bringing his knee slamming right down across the throat of Liam. 

Before actually going for the cover; 

One... 

Two... 

Easy kick-out from Liam. Janitor M returned to his feet swiftly and began to stomp him with kicks over and over again before he grabbed a handful of Liam’s hair and pulled him back up to his feet. Morris sent Liam into the ropes and went for a big clothesline as he came back but Liam managed to duck just under it and leapt onto the middle rope behind Morris. As the janitor turned around, Liam sprung off the ropes and spun in midair, before he driving a dropkick right into the chest of Morris, knocking him straight back down to the mat! 

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

Good move from the Irishman, who looked at ease actually some wrestling this time round. He got back onto his feet again and as soon as Morris got up, Liam grabbed him by the arm and tried to yank him right down into an armbar submission. The Irishman made the mistake of being too close to the ropes and Janitor M quickly grabbed hold of the bottom rope to force the break, much to the relief of the pro-Morris crowd. 

Liam, however, had other ideas as he showed no immediate signs of breaking the hold and instead did as much damage as he possibly could before the referee managed to force him to break the hold. Liam got back on his feet but the damage was apparently done already to Morris as he held his shoulder in obvious pain and the right-hand man to Vincent P capitalized as he drove kick after kick right into the wounded shoulder of Morris. Liam lifted the wincing janitor back onto his feet by the arm before he wrenched it again and began to pull Morris right into a series of shoulders right into the shoulder of Morris to continue to try and work on the arm of Morris. Liam kept his hold on Morris’s arm before he yanked right back down into the mat again -- this time, with an armbreaker. 

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

Standing above Morris, Liam was proving to all out there that he was a multi-faceted man, surprising most with his apparent wrestling knowledge. Morris slowly began to return to his feet, and as the Irishman grabbed his hair, the janitor lashed out with a reverse elbow, before resorting to a go-behind again... and managing to score with a russian leg-sweep, which almost incited a riot within the crowd. 

"MORRIS ROCKS!" 
"MORRIS ROCKS!" 
"MORRIS ROCKS!" 
"MORRIS ROCKS!" 

Amazingly enough, Liam quickly returned back to his feet, but was met by a hard clothesline from the tall freak known as Janitor M, which sent him back down to the canvas again. The Irishman, irate, got back to his feet and charged at Morris again, who took him down with a sloppy drop toe-hold and scurried over him to lock in a headlock. Liam managed to shift Morris to his side, and work his way to his feet. Janitor M tightened his hold on the Irishman as the latter moved backwards, and before he pushed the janitor into the ropes. 

And as Morris returned, Liam took him down with a scrappy shoulder tackle. 

Janitor M, with the support of the crowd, picked his groggy self up and as Liam swung a right hand at him, Morris took the Irishman down with an armdrag, following up with an armlock. Liam grunted and tried to push Morris away from him and working his way back to his feet, but the latter refused to let go of the hold. Instead, he forced the right-hand man of The British Army up to his feet, and after a kick to his gut, broke the hold. 

Before releasing the hold and whipping him into the ropes. As the Liam returned, Morris let out an almighty yell and ducked, aiming for a back body-drop. No dice, as Liam kicked his face and followed up with a vicious-looking thrust kick. 

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

Just then, something amazing happened. Janitor Howard jumped out from the section of the crowd behind the announcers, and looked to sneak into the ring. On the other side, however, Nefarian crawled out from under the ring... and the two partners of the men inside the ring slid in at the same time. 

The referee was confused, as he witnessed Morris pull himself up... and watched as Nefarian knocked M down, while Howard & Liam began to brawl. It was madness in the ring. 

And it left the referee no choice, but to bring a premature end to the stellar match. 

But do you think El Janitors and .vindication gave a crap? HELL NO, they continued brawling! And surprisingly enough, the two janitors seemed to be gaining the upperhand, as Liam struggled to block Howard's gut punches and Nefarian sluggishly collapsed to the mat, holding his shoulder in pain. 

That was before the twist came. In the form of THE KOLE BROTHERS, who ran down the ramp with chairs in hand. 

And as they slid into the ring... 

*CRACK* 

*CRACK* 

Andi slammed the chair across M's back, while Howard's head met Joey's chair. Just like that, El Janitors were out, and the maniacal hissing began. The Kole Brothers stood tall, apparently seeking revenge for Morris & Howard "ignoring" them earlier in the night. There was more to it than that, though. 

Liam & Drake suddenly recovered and sniggered, shaking hands with Joey & Andi. 

.... 2+2=4? 

YES! 

Duh, it was a sneaky set-up all along. That was why The Kole Brothers were approached by the British teenagers. 

But when Liam & Drake turned to make their exit from the ring, something else happened. 

*CRACK* 

*CRACK* 

.... 

WHAT?! 

ANDI & KOLE! DOUBLE-CROSS! They took out .vindication! Now the crowd were confused, but fuck, they cheered. Finally, it seemed, Liam & Drake had gotten their just desserts, for acting like complete thugs. Andi & Joey threw down their chairs and high-fived each other, beaming from ear to ear, before they jumped out of the ring and retired to the back. 

On this night, three tag-teams in the ACW were showcased. And only one walked out with heads held high. 

The Kole Brothers, ladies and gents. On their way to making their mark. 

Winner: NO CONTEST 

I See...Dead People...

Keller strolled into the arena with a smile on his face, but not before long, as one of the ACW Guardians stopped in his tracks. SilverHAWK and Keller looked into each others eyes as Keller smirked at his "boss".

"Sup man...got me a match for this week?"

HAWK shook his head in disgust.

"You know something Keller, this short term contract you are on is going to be very short term if you keep this up for any longer."

Keller chuckled at the threat.

"What the hell are you talking about birdman, keep what up?"

"This act...I've got it from a good source that you were caught stirring it after Rivers was taken to the hospital last week. If you attacked him with that pipe last week I'll..."

"You'll do what? Show me the evidence? All you've got is what I said you that stupid journalist, hell, if that's all you've got and you fire me, I'll sue ACW for wrongful sacking, and I sure as hell know that this company doesn't need a fucking lawsuit on it's ass at this point in time. Do me a favour HAWK, get out of my face and I'll stay out of your hair...for now...I'm here for a fresh start and that is all, so get off my ass and let me do what I do best, and that's kick ass."

"Oh don't worry about that Keller, I won't make the mistake in sacking you without proof...I don't gotta make a few calls first."

As HAWK turned away, Keller pulled back on his arm and spun him around.

"Listen...HAWK...I know who did it."

Keller's voice had changed as the arrogance had drained from his character, as he looked at HAWK.

"Go on."

"I seen him do it...the blood was everywhere...but he just never stopped...I tried to stop him...but he kept saying that Rivers let him down...he let him down bad. I didn't know what to do HAWK...it was...it was..."

"WHO?"

"ETHAN WINTERS!"

HAWK shook his head as he turned around leaving Keller dropping to his knee's in a fake crying session.

"Back from the Dead! WINTERS! NOOOOO!"

As HAWK was out of the picture...Keller's mood changed again, as he got up from the ground and hauled his bag from over his shoulder, a mocking smile on his face painted the picture of a slightly sick human being...

Picking Tails on a Double-Headed Quarter

Jason Kain knocked on the door to SilverHAWK’s office then walked in.

“Nice of you to barge right on in, Jason. Have a seat. I saw your dilemma on the big screen. Remind your little friend that if I find him, I’ll charge him with hacking, and get him arrested.” HAWK smiled then looked at Kain firmly. 

“I know why you’re here… but I’m not giving him a job here. He’s too much of a risk to the wrestlers and himself in that ring. He doesn’t have a good in-ring record either, and by the looks of his resume, which by the way is fairly interesting to say the least… before working at ukw as a janitor… he was firmly seated as a New Mexico McDonalds, DRIVE-THRU CASHIER… Not even semi-promising. 

I’d only be able to boost him as a popcorn vendor at the highest. It’s amazing the kid even got air-time… let alone SIX ukw Hardway title shots. Let’s try to forget that all of those title shots were in one night… and let us PLEASE forget that he lost all of them in a record amount of time. AND the fact that four of those losses, our former employee, Joe Russa didn’t even touch him to get the pinfall on.”

“But, sir… I NEED that tape. I need the evidence. I need proof.”

“Proof of what?” SilverHAWK stood up and looked at Kain hard. “You don’t NEED proof… you NEED something else. You’re not just upset about this are you, Kain?”

He looked at Kain who had put his face back in his hands.

“I see what it is…” SilverHAWK sat on the end of the desk. “You NEED Jade, don’t you. She fuels you. Well, what an odd predicament we have here. But I do have a solution, but it will have to cost you something. I’ll put the little Mexican boy in a match tonight… if he wins, he gets a job in the fed. You can help him all you want…”

“That’s costing me?” Kain looked at him, with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, Kain… his first recorded victory has to be against you.”

“WHAT!?” Kain looked around the room, now confused along with his heart-ache and frustration.

“AND… if you lose this match… you can kiss that match against Osyrus at Glory… good-bye.” HAWK turned his chair away from Kain. “Now get out of here… I think I hear your music.”

COME FACE ME!

"WHAT THE FUCK!" 

A*Dubbs screamed at the top of his lungs, waiting for an answer to his question. He ran to the back of the arena, looking for the culprit who had just cost him a victory.

"Brown!"

The walk had gotten more intense, as A*Dubbs heard footsteps leaving the darkened parking lot. 

"Get the FUCK out here now, bish!" 

Suddenly, headlights flickered at A*Dubbs, before the car's owner engulfed his foot on the gas pedal, sending the car off to speeds high above the lots' limit. 

A*Dubbs dove out of the way with time to spare, waiting for the car to stop. As it came to a hault, Dubbs ran to it, but with an inch more to go until he got to the car, it sped away, leaving a message on the ground. 

Picking it up slowly as the car left, A*Dubbs watched the car slow down for oncoming traffic, before speeding off into the distance. 

Looking at the paper closely, A*Dubbs threw it down and walked right back into the arena. 

The paper was left behind, and the message it sent Allen was loud and clear, without even being spoken. 

"Your time is coming."

I'm Broke

"Any news Fonz?"

HAWK had just made his way back to his office as Fonzi Barthello walked through the door. He had been keeping the ACW staff posted on the situation with Dunn and Boyd all week, and as he walked through the door this evening, a slight smile graced his face.

"From what I've heard boss...they've let Boyd go, but they have kept Dunn in for a few more question supposedly, I am told he'll be out soon though."

HAWK sighed with relief.

"Good news that...we've just gotta get this problem the fuck outta here now...if the FBI can't find any plausible killer, then it would add up that it was a robbery of some sort wouldn't it?"

"Sure would." Fonz replied as Joe Bishop walked in at that precise point. The new Chief of Staff had been on the phone all day talking to Indy federations about talent. It was the idea of the staff to try and loan out some talent from Indy feds in exchange for some major plugging of their federations.

With ACW's financial struggles, it was their only way of building up the talent roster which had been so small for such a long time.

"I tell you what HAWK...wrestling is one messed up business. Your company starts to have financial trouble, and then you get all these workers wanting to come to ACW...it's a mind fuck it really is."

"Tell me about it...but, Joe, it seems that we've slowly sted the tide for now, as we've agreed reduced contracts with Kain, Alias and Inferno over the last week...it'll definitely tie up a few loose ends with that money now in the bank."

"And the rest of them?"

HAWK smiled.

"Osyrus? Well...I'm going to have to speak to him soon...and I'm just about to go and speak to the Champ now, see if his attitude has changed since last week's little fiasco."

"Yeah...you go do that, I'm gonna go watch one of the new guys in action, Forme Carlos...should be good."

"Tape it for me yeah."

As HAWK left the office his destination was to one man's locker room, the slightly troubled World Champion, ICU.

Jason Kain Vs. El Emenopi

  

“Quick Death” exploded through the PA as a confused Jason Kain stepped through the curtain and looked down the ramp to the ring. The day hadn’t been running well at all. As if Jade leaving him hadn’t been a hard enough slap in the face… now he had to choose between getting back at Osyrus, or getting Jade back. And the only way to do it was to either win or lose against a nobody. And that nobody has theme music.

EYYYYYYYYYYYY, MAAAANG!!!!

SOY A UN PERTADOR, I’M A LOSER BABY… SO WHY DON’T YOU KILL ME!?!?

As the Alphabet Remix of “Loser” by Beck pumped through the arena, so did the first true appearance of the man behind the camera. But the man had no face. Instead, a goofy looking luchador mask covered the mystery man… and obviously, this was going to be his face from now on. He walked down to weird boos, and laughing cheers. 

His shiny dark green and bright orange tights emblazoned with pitch black teddy bears probably caused the laughter… but the fact that he held another REAL-LIFE version of that same teddy bear is what startled them beyond all belief. He smiled, and looked to the crowd with a thumbs-up then climbed in the ring, holding the teddy bear over his head.

The announcer started up…

“From Zapopan, Mexico… weighing in at 141 pounds, he is the ACW Guest of the Day… please welcome, El Emenopi!!!!”

At the name, the crowd started laughing loudly, to which El frowned. Some of the crowd knew him from the satellite feeds from ukw, others knew him from Indy feds where he inadvertently injured numerous tag team partners, keeping his loss record spotless. But there he was, standing in the ACW ring, staring down one of the most popular superstars the federation had to offer.

Kain didn’t look as into the match as El did… since the Alpha Beta Disasterpiece was bouncing around the ring, testing the ropes ready to have the match of his life. Kain shook his head, still not knowing what he was going to do. But El Emenopi jumped out of the ring as the bell rung, grabbing a chair. 

The ref instantly ran to the ropes, telling El to put the chair back. But El Emenopi wouldn’t listen, so Kain walked over and looked over the ropes at El as the ref started counting. 

1… 

2…

It seemed as if El wasn’t going to wait for Kain to make up his mind if he was going to win or lose this match, as he swung the chair at Kain.

3….

Kain backed off at the chair bounced off the ropes, smacking El directly in the face, sending him over the barricade, and into the crowd.

4… 

5… 

6…

Kain looked in horror as El completely ruined his chances of ever getting Jade back, with only one move.

7… 

8… 

9… 

10!!!

Kain was shell-shocked. He didn’t know what to do. He was still in his match against Osyrus, but El Emenopi’s tape would never see the light of day… leaving Kain with no chance of getting Jade back. He fell to his knees, and stared blankly at El Emenopi who was slowly getting back to his feet.

Up at the entryway, Isis and Osyrus looked on. Without even walking down to the ring, they had destroyed Jason Kain. The crowd had rather had seen Kain beaten down by chair, but watching him just stare blankly at a wall for what felt like hours, was just downright suddenly. 

Osyrus looked at Isis, who smiled slightly, then walked away. 

Osyrus then followed.

The official tried to get Kain back to his feet, but it was dead weight, and Kain wasn’t budging. El looked in the ring, and noticed the face of Kain… realizing that El, himself, had lost the match. 

He had to start again. 

He dropped to his knees. 

Both of their dreams had been shattered in a matter of twenty-two seconds. 

The shortest match in ACW history. 

It was all over.

And both men, just sat there.

Winner: Jason Kain

Non-Negotiable

Three chaps on the door were not answered, as SilverHAWK stood outside the ACW World Champion's locker room, with a small folder of paperwork in his hand. Of all the superstars he had spoken to, ICU seemed the most reluctant to give up his current contract. 

The fact of the matter was that ACW would be shooting themselves in the foot if they fired him over it, as ICU would be due a vast amount of compensation in return.

"Looking for someone?"

ICU stood behind HAWK with the same, emotionless face on him that had been one of the main images of his character since the start of his reign in ACW. It was that emotion however that had given him the opportunity to become the World Champion, and that belt, sat over his should at this time.

"Yeah I was actually...I'm here to talk to you about your contract."

"I told you last week HAWK, I don't want to speak about my contract, it's a non-issue."

ICU opened his locker room door and attempted to shut it in HAWK's face, but a sharp reflex made this ego war go a little further.

"Listen to me you little punk...if you don't sign this contract, you are gonna help this federation go under, can you deal with that guilt Ivan? Can you deal with causing 50 or so people their jobs?"

ICU looked down at the ground as if to be contemplating something...

"Tell you what...lemme look over the contract, and then I'll get back to you."

HAWK passed the folder over to the Champion as he signed off with a small nod to the HAWK, as he left and ICU closed the door behind him. However, behind that door there now sat a full trash can, as an ACW contract sat in it...this was just the beginning of this issue, but where would it end?

Non-Negotiable Part 2

As the show roared on, SilverHAWK travelled to ICU's locker room to see if there was anymore news on the contract, and if indeed ICU had signed it, or wanted a few things changed.

As HAWK travelled to the locker room his first sign of it was a closed door with the usual "Do Not Disturb" hanger which most wrestlers use whom have their own rooms, but HAWK was too high up to be taking notice of any of them.

HAWK knocked on the door.

To no answer.

He turned the door knob to find that it was indeed open, and as HAWK entered the locker room, he found no trace of ICU, only an opened gym back and a clutter of ICU's belonging's scattered around the room, but as HAWK scanned the room he clocked the contract...inside the trash bin.

HAWK pulled the paper work out of the bin and examined it, with no visible traces of any signing, HAWK put it back in it's place before leaving the locker room in a less than happy mood. He pulled an ACW staffer to the side and quickly asked...

"Where is Khristain Keller?"

A Lesson Has Been Learnt

The car park of an arena is usually where... well, cars are parked. In the ACW, a faction ran by a maniacal British degenerate holds their meetings in the car parks; on some occasions, at least. And now, the rival group is about to have somewhat of a conclusion to a long lesson. 

"Why are we here?" 006.392 asked, looking around him, at an isolated area of the car park. He was simply dressed in shorts, as ordered by Quinton. 

Who had gotten rid of his shirt. The Dictator looked at Damnson, who was engrossed in a conversation with a fly on the gravel. Smiling, Quincy turned back to look at 006 and cracked his neck, before clenching his fists. This was something he'd been waiting to do ever since the idea for this came to him many moons ago. 

Okay, he read about it somewhere, but really, does it make a difference? NO! Comprende? Good. 

"Because, 006.392, there is something which we have to do now. 

I asked you to do the assignment for a reason. To prepare you, to toughen you up. And the twist of you having to lose allows you to view the fight from the different perspective. Firstly, random people was the key... simply because, you don't know them. Nothing about them. 

Their strengths, weaknesses, background; you know nothing. And you have no chance to do any research! 

Then, the bit about losing. Like I said, different perspective. And only in defeat, can you learn and become better. Only in defeat, will you be able to instill some humility into yourself. But somehow, you became completely addicted to fighting. Now, I'm not angry at that... but at the way you've expressed it. 

However, I'm gonna make sure that itch for fighting goes away today. 

Before that, let's review. You said you fought 43 people, over the course of the assignment. 43 fights, and you got your ass kicked 27 of those times. Out of that, the police spoiled the day for 6 times, and thankfully, you didn't get hauled to jail. That leaves 10 fights unanswered." 

006.392 bit his tongue and smiled sheepishly, guilty as charged. Unanswered meant only one thing, and Quinton knew what it meant... but he wanted to hear this from the kid himself. After all, this was all part of the assignment. Truthfulness, and responsibility. 

"Well, yeah. I had to kick some of those asses, it was just too tempting to turn down. Besides, I knew some of them from school, and they were teasing me, saying I was too dumb to stay in school, so that's why I dropped out and stuff. I mean, fuck, I couldn't NOT bash them up." 

Quinton's right eyebrow was now arched, as he squinted at 006.392, who hardly seemed remorseful over that. May couldn't blame him, however, and actually understood. 

With the statistics out of the way, it was time to get the show on the roll. 

"Okay, understandable. 

Now, with all that settled, let's get down to business. Now, in order to complete this assignment, we have to do one very simple thing. It's going to be so easy, you're gonna cream. 

We're going to fight. 

And you're going to kick my ass. 

NOW." 

006.392 stood there, stunned. This wasn't what he expected at all. Not by a long shot. Came as a bit of a shock to him, and even Damnson, who now looked up at both his friend & the red-haired Canadian. Gulping, 006 shook his head and took one step back, indicating he wasn't going to do this. Quincy was like a father to him; no way could he fight him, much less, as May ordered, beat him up. 

It was completely out of the question for the YOTN, and Quincy was quite disappointed with the reaction. Disappointed, but he had expected it. Everything was going according to plan. 

"Come on, let's fight!" 

Again, 006.392 shook his head. 

"FIGHT, YOU FUCKING PUSSY! IF YOU CAN'T FIGHT, AND CAN'T HACK IT IN SCHOOL, WHAT ARE YOU GOOD FOR, YA USELESS SACK OF SHIT! COME ON! FIGHT! FIGHT LIKE YOUR PARENTS DID, WHICH WAS THE REASON WHY THEY DIDN'T CARE FOR YOU!" 

The words weren't meant to hurt. They were simply supposed to coherse the kid into getting on with the program. But as he stood there, knees trembling from shock and fear, tears began to roll down his cheek. 

This was Quinton saying all the mean shit to him. 

Quincy realised this was getting out of hand, but it HAD to be done. And if words weren't going to get the job done, there was only one thing that would. 

Spitting at him. 

Suddenly, with saliva all over his face, 006 charged forward crashing his fist into May's face. The latter's head jerked backwards, as more punches came crashing into his face and upper-body. 006.392 was a machine now, letting all his frustrations out, doing what Quinton commanded him to do so. 

Kick his ass. 

May decided to make things interesting, as he blocked a punch and rammed his forearm into the kid's face, before directing a stiff kick at the abdominal. 006 stumbled backwards, doubling over, and watched as Quincy advanced on him. Fists clenched, face kinda banged up already. 

"That all you got, dropout?" 

Growling, 006.392 snapped, balling up his right fist. 

And in one glorious moment, he drove his fist upwards, knocking Quinton senseless with an amazing uppercut. The Dictator was lifted off the ground, and landed quite a distance away, blood flowing out from his nose. The back of his head was cut open too, as it crashed down onto the gravel with some impact. And basically, pain vibrated through every part of his body. But... he was smiling. 

006.392, breathing heavily, suddenly realised what he had done and rushed over to May, attempting to help him up. 

"Don't." 

So he didn't. 

And Quincy got up on his own, grin growing wider. 

"Now, do you understand?" 

006.392 didn't. Not at first. But as he saw the blood now dripping off Quincy's chin, droplets of it falling to the ground, it all started to make sense to the kid. Everything he'd been subject to in the ACW -- since he was inducted into QA, many moons back -- it all started to tie together. 

It was one giant jigsaw puzzle. 

And the fight with Quinton was the final piece of the puzzle. 

So he said while nodding, "A lesson has been learnt." 

Quinton May nodded as well, delighted. He'd succeeded in another quest. 

Somewhere, God rejoiced. 

.... "God". 

108192 Vs. Alias

  

Eyes were closed. 

Lungs were breathing… and hard. 

Random wrestlers and workers walked by patting him on the back and wishing him luck. The crowd knew who was coming. Their anticipating cheers added to his anxiety. Alias opened his eyes and walked up the deck steps, he had done this a hundred plus times before… but since Vince Jacobs had returned something changed in Chris Sheffield… it had thrown his mind for a complete loop but he still escaped intact… well mostly intact, and with the win. It was the final straw for Alias after a month of violent confrontations, where he continually pushed his body to the limits and then finally pushed it over the edge. Three weeks felt like a life time for Alias though, the man was a work horse… something that had helped made him a legend… but was SVJ about to end Alias’s legend to recreate his own?

He stood in front of the black curtain, bouncing lightly and waiting for his music to cue.

Joe Bishop put a hand on his shoulder. “Get ready. They’re gonna go crazy.”

Alias nodded and closed his eyes again, a smile crept up from the corner of his mouth… thank god he had drank, at least that little bit, before he had gone on. He could feel his first day in the All- Star Championship Wrestling all over again. The butterflies. Dry mouth. Temptation to vomit. Regardless of all that, he was ready. His music cued as he whispered to himself.

“You where able to kill yourself the first time, but not the second… not this time.”

“Faint” by Linkin Park.

Alias pushed past the curtains. The roar of the crowd almost pushed him back. He walked down the ramp pointing at signs, smiling and high fiving a random fan here and there. He entered the ring and went to a turnbuckle, climbing and raising a fist to the crowd. They chanted his name over and over again. They knew him all too well.

As Alias hopped down to the canvas, his music faded out. 'Behind The Walls' By Kurupt replaced it. 108192 walked down the ramp a granite expression on his face and fire in his eyes. Boos were consistent throughout the arena. He entered the arena and pumped his fist before cracking his knuckles in anticipation. The bell sounded. Alias met him at center ring. They stared eye-to-eye. As the crowd started another ALIAS chant, 108192 shoved his opponent to the canvas.

The crowd started to boo until Alias took 108 down with a lightning quick drop toe hold, surprising his first time opponent. Alias pulls 108192 up to his feet and backs him into the nearby corner with knife edge chops to the chest. 108 turns the tables on Alias and goes for some punches of his own, but Alias blocks the attempt and goes behind 108192 before throwing him from the corner with an explosive release German suplex. Alias makes another cover and only gets one. Both men get to their feet, and Alias whipped 108192 hard into the ropes.

Alias quickly burst forward with a clothesline, packing enough power behind it to knock 108192 down on his back on the canvas. Alias quickly got up to his feet, then slammed his body back down to the mat with a leg drop across 108's throat. Before moving, he looked at 108192 and smiled. He loved a good fight and was quickly finding out, once again, why.

As Alias stood back up, though, he quickly felt an arm grab the front of his shin. Then, with a quick twist, another arm grabbed his calf and pulled upwards. 108 had a hold his legs. With quick efficiency, 108 took Alias back down with a modified leg lock. As Alias's face went into the canvas, 108192 got back up to his feet. With a jump, he leaped into the air and spun. He came crashing down on his back, right on top of Alias.

108192 rolled back onto his feet, then turned around to grab Alias. But instead, Alias kicked up into 108's face, knocking him back away for a moment. Getting to his feet, Alias paced towards 108192 with a high knee into the midsection. He continued with a few more minor cases of offense onto 108192.

Alias clutched onto 108's arm and slung him into the far ropes. As 108192 hit the ropes, he rebounded and steamed back towards Alias. Alias positioned for an attack, but 108192 quickly latched onto his arm and slung him into the opposite ropes. Alias hit the ropes, but no sooner had he hit them that he met up with 108's forearm. The sudden halt of direction dazed Alias.

108 scooped him and landed a fall away slam, the force of which nearly sent Alias to the outside. A loud, hacking cough could be heard by the first few rows as Alias's chest lay across the bottom rope and he started to pull himself up on the middle. Before he could get there, however, 108192 landed a boot into the hand on the middle rope and stood on Alias's back between his shoulder blades, choking him across the bottom rope. The referee tried to pry 108192 away from his currently illegal and vicious move, but to no luck as 108 pushed the ref away before he placed both feet between his shoulder blades and pushed up on the top rope, putting as much pressure as possible on the Original Pulp Hero’s chest and neck, but still Alias shook his head no, gasping out one forced breath after another.

Suddenly without warning, finally listening to the ref’s warnings of disqualification, 108192 slingshotted himself over the top rope and caught Alias's head in a guillotine legdrop to the outside. Alias's head and neck snapped back as he rolled away from the ropes, his face nearly purple from lack of air, ragged breaths coming from his lungs. 108 landed slightly off balance on the outside, but he was to his feet fairly quickly, taking a moment to look in his opponent's direction. Alias was on his knees, eyes closed, blood dripping from the back of his head, regaining as much composure as he could. The crowd had started to chant his name to try and urge him to victory… let’s just say it would do its job in spades.

With surprising speed and composer Alias ran towards the ropes and flew under the top rope with a dropkick, catching 108192 in the side of the face. Alias then began repeatedly slamming 108’s head into the guardrail, eventually opening up a cut on the forehead of the former convict. Alias then grabbed 108192 by the head and ran him face-first into the ringpost, opening the cut further. Alias grabbed 108192 by the head and sets up for a vicious DDT on the concrete… and then hits it. He picks 108 right back up and rolled him into the ring.

As 108192 reached his vertical base, Alias began to slowly circle him, and no sooner was 108 fully upright than the Original Pulp Hero dove in and took him back to the mat with a successful double leg takedown. Alias jumped back to his feet, 108’s knees still in tow, and he dragged his opponent to the center of the ring, where he grapevined 108’s legs around his arms and attempted a Texas cloverleaf hold. 108192 reacted quickly, sending a thumb into Alias’s eye when Alias attempted to turn him over, causing Alias to release the hold and stagger backwards. 108192 staggered back up and approached Alias, who immediately pulled the 108192 into a collar-and-elbow tie-up. After jockeying for an advantage, Alias looked to break the hold, which gave 108192 the opportunity to duck behind him and apply a rear waistlock.

Alias executed a standing switch, leaving himself behind 108192 with 108 slightly off-balance. Alias looked to capitalize, and sent 108192 flying backwards with a German suplex.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Alias still kept hold of his opponent however, and with weak legs Alias heaved the semi-conscious up and set him firmly on the top turnbuckle, facing the crowd. Alias quickly climbed up with him and latched his arms around his opponent’s waist.

*Crack, crack*

108192 drove a pair of elbows into Alias’s head to break the hold… but to no avail as the Original Pulp Hero gritted his teeth and bellowed out with the killing blow.

Belly-to-belly suplex off the top rope. The Big Fat Kill.

The crowd in attendance roared in approval as 108192 soared through the air and landed heavily more then half way across the ring. Alias picked himself up to one knee and then threw himself on top of his opponent, hooking the leg.

One.

Two.

Three.

The bell sounded as “Faint” by Linkin Park resurfaced over the speakers. Alias got to his knees and raised both fists in the air while looking at the lights, he took a moment to rub the blood stained hair at the back of his head. The crowd overpowered any previous trepidation he’d felt. He hadn’t missed a beat and neither had the fans. His hair was drenched with sweat and his body was sore all over. All in all… it was a good day at work.

It wouldn’t last.

Winner: Alias

Challenge

Alias was still in the ring about to leave when all of a sudden his nemesis ‘Superstar’ Vince Jacobs comes running through the crowd with a lead pipe in his hand and slides under the ring. The crowd erupted hopefully to get the Original Pulp Hero’s attention. 

Alias turned around only to be met with a pipe to the top of the head. Blood started to flow from Alias’ forehead as the crowd started to boo very loudly for what SVJ just done. SVJ soaked in the boos as he held the lead pipe high in the air for all to see.

SVJ grabbed a mic and knelt down in front of Alias on the mat. He laid the pipe on the mat as he picked up Alias’ head with one hand and held the mic with the other.

“Christopher, can you hear me Christopher. Of course you can, listen up boy I am tired of you running around here like you are this almighty big shot. See I am the measuring stick in this business. I am what all those no-talent hacks in the back aspire to be like one day.” Vince said with a smirk

The crowd started to boo loudly at Vince.

S-V-J SUCKS!!
S-V-J SUCKS!!
S-V-J SUCKS!!
S-V-J SUCKS!!

Vince held the mic to his lips. “Yeah yeah.. I can buy and sell all you plebeians out there so blow me.” The crowd got more heated as Vince smiled and continued to look at the bloodied face of Alias. 

“Christopher I am tired of you ducking me. You gave up the Television Title because as you say you have done all you could for that belt but you never once gave me a rematch. See I know you Chris. I know you were thinking if I gave up this title then SVJ wouldn’t want anything else with me. But that’s far from the truth Chris.” Vince said

“I won’t lie, I did want the title but I also wanted something that was MUCH BIGGER than the title. Do you know what that something is Chris? Huh!! Cat got your tongue.” Vince said with laughter

Alias tried to fight his way back up as he punched Vince in the face which caused Vince to drop the mic. Alias tried to stand to his feet but he really couldn’t see anything with all that blood covering his face. Alias finally stood to his feet only to be knocked back down again with the lead pipe from Vince Jacobs.

Suddenly the ACW officials came running to the ring to try to help Alias but Vince wouldn’t let them get into the ring as he swung that pipe at every official who tried to get into the ring. Vince knelt back down beside Alias grabbing his head and the mic again very angry and pissed.

“Christopher I want you to be a man ONCE in your pathetic life. I want you one on one next week in a submission match. That’s right you and I have to fight until one of us submits. You better accept you waste of human fucking life.” Vince said to Alias

Vince dropped the pipe and kicked Alias in his bad shoulder before leaving the ring. The officials finally got in the ring to tend to Alias was bloodied and bruised by Vince but he was not a beaten man as I am sure Vince Jacobs would find out next week.

Non-Negotiable Part 3

HAWK took the vacancy of a "Do Not Disturb" hanger as an indication to burst into Keller's dressing room as the former aWc star sat on his bench watching the TV which was parked up beside him.

"Ever heard of knocking? I know the West had become uncivil since I left and wrestled in Japan for a while...but really...this is damn near harassment."

"Shut the fuck up would you Keller...I'm here to give you a chance."

Keller perked up a little on his seat as he looked over at HAWK, a sly smile on his mug as he realised HAWK was starting to come around to him.

"OK HAWK, you got the room..."

"It's pretty simple Keller...you Vs. ICU, tonight, for the ACW World Title."

Keller seemed to be taken aback by the sudden push from the ACW staffer, as he got to his feet and rubbed his beard, he pondered just to why he was being pushed so high up the card so quickly.

"I'm not one to question such kindness HAWK, I'm really not....but why the sudden change of heart, and a World Title match of all things?"

"It's simple...I can kill two birds with one stone Keller. If you win...one of my major problems with ICU is gone, but if ICU retains...you're short term contract will NOT be renewed nor considered after the next month if up."

Keller shook his head and was quite impressed by the slyness of one of the ACW guardians. "OK, so let me get this straight...if I win, I win the World Title...and if I lose, then I won't have my contract renewed next month?"

"Got it in one bucko."

"You're on then..."

Force To Be Reckoned With



When you piss the Scorpion of Manchester off, you're gonna expect backlash. 

And more than likely, it's going to be in the form of a horde of British teenagers, commanded to hunt you down and tear you apart. They're already bloodthirsty, giving them a mission like that... it's gonna be one hell of a motivater. 

But when you're Gabriel So'ialu, and you're bigger than most men, you've got nothing to fret. You crush all these buggers with your fists. All 20 of them, easily. They're, after all, runts. Toothpicks compared to you. SO, basically, you destroy the whole lot and walk away unscathed. 

Now, if you're Vincent Pembridge, watching this from a hidden corner, you're gonna feel a little scared. 20 of your best men taken out, just like that. 

Within a blink of an eye. 

Not to mention that you yourself were punked out by Gabriel. 

True, you'd just taken part in a fight. No excuse, however. You're the British Degenerate. You're powerful, your venom is as deadly as a scorpion's. Hence the nickname, innit? 

But now, you've got to swallow your pride and admit it. 

Gabriel So'ialu... is a force to be reckoned with. 

Truly. 

Doubled-Edged Sword

ICU sat in his locker room.

Oblivious to the world around his as his locker door was knocked upon as a staffer popped his head around the door.

"Hey, Champ, you've just been booked against Khristain Keller for your World Title. Better get ready, your up after Dubbs and Jacobs."

"Thanks..." ICU sighed as he watched the door close over before moving to his feet. He felt something covering his foot, which made him look down and find out that his World Title had slid off of his gym bag. ICU picked up the glittering prize and moved his fingers through the caverns and encryptions in the metal.

He sighed and dropped it back on the floor, as he rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

It was something that he had to do...

For the good of ACW...

For his well being...

For the future of his career...

A*Dubbs vs. SVJ

  

"Ring Superstar" by Cypress Hill hit the PA system throughout the arena as 'Superstar' Vince stepped out onto the stage posing for his adoring fans. Vince stopped on the stage and looked into the crowd as a mountain of boos engulfed the arena. Vince smiled as he made his way slowly to the ring flipping off a few fans in the process. Vince rolled into the ring and stood on the far middle rope to play to the crowd who were still jeering SVJ.

Vince jumped down from the ropes and stood in the middle of the ring bouncing back and forth awaiting his opponent for the night who was the current ACW United States Champion.

Suddenly, the lights cut off as "Patiently Waiting" by 50-Cent began playing through the speakers, signaling the arrival of the current United States Champion, A*Dubbs. 

A*Dubbs walked to the ring with authority, talking a mile a minute as he entered. A*Dubbs slowly entered the ring with a smile on his face as he looked across the ring at the former CWL Champion. A*Dubbs who wasn't impressed held his title in the air for the fans. The music slowly faded, as A*Dubbs handed his title to the referee, and soon after the bell was sounded. 

A*Dubbs walked to the middle of the ring and looked on at his opponent who was staring back at the current ACW United States Heavyweight Champion. Vince snickered as A*Dubbs smirked walking backwards. The two men started circling each other in the ring as the crowd booed loudly for both men. Neither man was in good graces with the fans in the ACW. Both men locked up in the middle of the ring in a collar and elbow tie up. A*Dubbs quickly gained the advantage as he placed SVJ in a headlock.

SVJ wiggled to try to break the hold but to no avail. SVJ pushed A*Dubbs backward to the ropes and whipped him across the ring to the opposite ropes. A*Dubbs came back as he leapfrogged and bent over SVJ. A*Dubbs bounced back off the ropes again but this time was nailed with a deep arm drag takedown by Vince Jacobs. A*Dubbs got back up quickly and raced at Vince again and Vince took him down with another arm drag but this time he held on. Vince quickly dropped a leg across the arm of A*Dubbs. 

SVJ quickly picked up A*Dubbs and dropped the champion with a short-arm clothesline. Vince climbed to the middle turnbuckle and raised his arms high in the air as the arena filled with boos. SVJ always in his arrogant nature did not notice the champ getting to his feet. A*Dubbs dropkicked Vince off the top ropes to the crowd's delight. SVJ fell off the top rope to the floor as A*Dubbs saw his opening. 

A*Dubbs climbed to the top rope and pointed at Vince who was making it to his feet. SVJ got to his feet as A*Dubbs nailed Vince with a big cross body block to the floor. Both men were down on the ground as the crowd enjoyed the action between the two superstars. A*Dubbs started to get to his feet first as he raced toward Vince and nailed him with a big knee lift that knocked the Superstar down again.

A*Dubbs looked into the crowd of booing fans as he shrugged them off and continued his work on SVJ. A*Dubbs started to nail SVJ with several rights to the side of the head. A*Dubbs grabbed SVJ by the hair and whipped him into the steel steps. A*Dubbs rolled into the ring to break the count of the referee. A*Dubbs quickly slid back outside of the ring to do more damage to SVJ. A*Dubbs walked over to SVJ who was trying to make it to his feet.

A quick thumb to the eyes of A*Dubbs by SVJ to buy him some time to recoup. SVJ gathered himself and climbed into the ring. A*Dubbs followed SVJ into the ring but was met with double axe handle shot to the back of the neck. A*Dubbs fell into the ring as Vince started to stomp on the United States Champion. Vince picked up A*Dubbs and nailed him with a quick snap Brainbuster that he calls the 'Starburst'. SVJ quickly hooked Allen's far leg for the cover.

ONE

TWO..

KICKOUT BY THE CHAMP!!

That Brainbuster wasn't going to keep A*Dubbs down and Vince knew it so SVJ ascended the top ropes looking for an opening. A*Dubbs slowly got to his feet as SVJ came off with a Missile Dropkick that did not find it's mark because A*Dubbs quickly sidestepped SVJ. A*Dubbs picked up SVJ and drove him down with a Jumping DDT!! A*Dubbs quickly went for the cover on SVJ.

ONE

TWO

KICKOUT BY SVJ!!

Both men were determined not to go down easy in this match. A*Dubbs wanted to prove to the fans and to the ACW he was a big time playa and what better way to achieve this by knocking off one of wrestling's biggest superstars, Vince Jacobs. A*Dubbs picked up SVJ and nailed him with a double arm DDT. A*Dubbs leapt to the top rope and dove off with a big Frog Splash on Vince. A*Dubbs slowly made his way back over to SVJ and draped an arm across the chest for the pin.

ONE..

TWO

THRE--- NO!! KICKOUT BY SVJ!!

A*Dubbs thought it was over as he stood up. A*Dubbs looked down at SVJ who was trying to make it to his feet. A*Dubbs started to finish SVJ off but out the corner of his eye he say Kaume Brown walk down to the ring with a chair in hand. Brown set the chair up near the ringside area and sat down to view the match as A*Dubbs started to yell at the man from his past. A*Dubbs started to go to the floor but the ref held him back as Brown tried to irk the man.

A*Dubbs backed from the ropes as SVJ nailed him with a dropkick to the back. A*Dubbs fell to the mat as you can hear laughter from Kaume Brown. Vince picked up A*Dubbs and drove him down with the 'Falling Star'. That sleeper hold into an inverted DDT is a devastating maneuver. Kuame Brown loved what he saw from ringside. He wanted any type of damage to be inflicted on A*Dubbs. 

A*Dubbs started to get to slowly get up as he made it to his knees. Suddenly SVJ came from out of nowhere with a vicious Shining Wizard.

STAR GAZER...STAR GAZER

Vince dropped down for the cover on A*Dubbs.

ONE

TWO

THRE--- NO!! A*DUBBS KICKED OUT!!

A*Dubbs was showing everyone why he was the ACW United States Champion as he continued to take everything SVJ dished out and never gave up. SVJ picked up A*Dubbs and whipped him into the ropes. A*Dubbs bounced off the ropes as SVJ leap frogged over him but A*Dubbs stopped in his tracks. SVJ turned around only to be nailed by 'The Electrifyer'. A*Dubbs sensing victory went for the cover on SVJ.

ONE

TWO

Kaume Brown broke the count as he pulled A*Dubbs off of SVJ. A*Dubbs obviously furious rolled out of the ring after Brown. Kaume Brown back peddled up the ramp as A*Dubbs walked up the ramp after Brown. The ref started his count on A*Dubbs while Vince was slowly making it to his feet with the help of the ropes.

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

A*Dubbs continued to stalk his nemesis from the past.

SEVEN

Brown pointed to the ring and the ref who was counting A*Dubbs out. A*Dubbs quickly turned around and sprinted to the ring and slid under the bottom ropes at the NINE count. Brown smiled and clapped at A*Dubbs who turned around only to be met with a SUPERSTAR KICK that almost took his head off. Vince went for the cover on A*Dubbs.

ONE

TWO

THREE

Vince had pinned the United States Champion but some would say A*Dubbs was distracted by Kaume Brown. A*Dubbs laid in the ring as Brown made his way into the ring. Vince looked at both men then stepped out of the ring. He knew this thing was between Brown and A*Dubbs and he had other stuff on his mind. Brown started to attacked the downed A*Dubbs as Vince smiled walking up the ramp to the backstage.

Brown continued his onslaught on A*Dubbs yelling obscenities with every kick and punch. A*Dubbs tried to get to his feet but Brown continued to keep him down. Brown held up the face of A*Dubbs and slapped him as he walked out of the ring leaving the ACW United States Champion a beaten and broken man, physically and mentally.

Winner: Vince Jacobs

ACW World Heavyweight Championship Match
Khristain Keller Vs. ICU

  

As "Frantic" by Metallica kicked in...the crowd got to their feet as the main event of the night was on it's way. From the small amount they had seen of Keller in aWc, they knew that he had considerable talent...talented enough to become ACW World Champion? 

That was another issue.

Keller walked down to the ring with a purpose, as his career in ACW really stood in line here in this match. In one way he could end up being the 4th World Champion in ACW History...or be fired.

It really was a dilemma.

But as Keller's music stopped, the fans then waited in baited breath for the arrival of the Champion...

...and waited.

Keller tugged the shirt of the referee to ask just what was going on, as ICU didn't appear from the back at all, a small cheer came from the crowd as the curtain flickered, but for the first time in ACW, the fans were disappointed when SilverHAWK was the one to come out, with a mic in his hands.

"ICU! Get out here now!"

As HAWK stood in the middle of the rampway, Keller leaned against the ropes on the far side of the ring, not knowing what to think as the ACW World Champion had somehow decided not to turn up...

...until now.

Once again the curtain flickered...and this time...it was ICU, but he was not in his ring attire. The crowd cheered as ICU came in to the top of the ramp with a microphone in his hand and the title belt over his shoulder. He looked around the crowd and began to clear his throat, as the arena hushed...all eyes were on the champion as he spoke to them.

"I'm not a man of many words...so I will keep this short and sweet. I've done it all here in ACW...and I've beaten the best it has to offer. A lot of people had their doubts about me as a champion, but I've beat every former ACW Champion and any wannabe Champion. I helped keep this federation lawful at Legends, and I helped raise the profile of ACW, even if you didn't know it. However...wrestling is a fickle business were executive decisions have to be made and now it's time for me to make a decision.

Earlier today, I was offered a reduced contract by HAWK here...to which I declined." A small segregation of the fans boo'd at the news of the contract offer, but ICU continued. "I rejected because...I plan on leaving."

Everyone in the arena stood with their jaws open...including HAWK who stood in amazement in the middle of the ramp, small murmurs of sounds could be heard around the arena, but as the Champion moved the World Title from his should down to his waist, began speaking again.

"My original plan was to leave at Glory, but now, I think the time is right to severe my ties with ACW. I don't want to go into my reasons for leaving as they are more personal than professional, but as I said before, I have beaten everyone there is to beat here and now I just don't have the heart for it. ACW needs someone who is willing to push the company forward, and at this point in time, I'm not even willing to defend this thing, I'm through. 

So as Alias did with his title last week...I'm giving this up."

ICU took the ACW World Title from his grasp and laid it across the top of ramp, before giving it one last look before he dropped the mic and then raised his arms in the air, which got a huge reaction from the ACW fans...even though he had just left them.

ICU took one last look at HAWK before he left...before giving him a quick smile as he soaked up the applause from the fans before slowly backing up to the curtain, from which he gave his last goodbye...before leaving ACW. 

The arena stood in shock as ICU left the ramp, as Keller jumped out of the ring and walked to the back as he didn't seem to be too bothered by it. As the fans began to leave the arena after such a huge bombshell, HAWK walked up to the title belt on the top of the ramp as he looked at his reflection it in, as he smiled as he thought of the former Champion...

"Damn...he really did have ACW at heart."

ICU - ACW World Heavyweight Champion [16.02.03 - 08.06.03]