Something for the rag and bone man
"Over my dead body"
Something big is gonna happen
"Over my dead body"

Someone's son or someone's daughter
"Over my dead body"
This is how I end up getting sucked in
"Over my dead body"

I'm gonna go to sleep
Let this wash all over me

We don't wanna wake monster taking over
"Tiptoe round tie him down"
We don't want the loonies taking over
"Tiptoe round tie them down"

May pretty horses
Come to you
As you sleep
I'm gonna go to sleep
Let this wash
All over me

"Go to Sleep" by Radiohead

Man Of Many Opinions

It was unusual for a PPV to start up with the face of a wrestler, and not the usual match up which everyone whom had sucked WWE for the past 20 years was accustomed to. However, as everyone knew these days, ACW had something different to them, an unorthodox manner to it which spat in the face of the big name federations and made them look at what they had to offer...just like the man on the screen.

K E L L E R

"Ladies and gentleman, I'm here with one of the major stars of tonight's PPV, Khristain Keller. Khristain, how are you going to physically handle wrestling two matches on one night, especially PPV quality matches of such a huge importance such as your King of Ages final match later in the night?"

Into The Game, Pt. 1

They sat in the office staring at Dunn, Boyd, Joe Bishop and the new owner… Mr. Carter. Carter looked at the two men with intense interest. Both had given their all for the company and now they were the main event of Carter first ACW Pay-Per-View. The two men were, of course, Alias and Jason Kain.

“We have come to the conclusion that this match MUST have a victor.” Carter looked at the two. “We’ve gone longer than two months without a representative. So the board has decided that should you two go to a draw… which I highly doubt… but for the record let it be said… IF YOU TWO SHOULD GO TO A DRAW…”

“The match will be of my choosing.” Bishop smiled. For the first time he had the upper hand on the two.

Alias looked at Kain, who looked back at him for a second… then back at Bishop. And yawned.

Alias just smiled and said one word…

“Ratings.”

A Missed Chance?

Jade looked amazing. She sat in her locker room wearing as little as possible. The heat radiated from the outside - in, even though the air conditioning in the arena was on full blast. The Hawaiian crowd kept the temperature rising inside the actual arena, but the backstage area was only slightly cooler.

For the first time in weeks she actually smiled as she looked at her reflection in the long wall mirror. She ran her hands through her long red hair and adjusted her dark green halter-top. Her beige skirt flowed lightly against her shapely legs and the straps on her black sandals tied up her calves, almost to her knees.

She ran her hand down her smooth face and smiled once again. The bags under her eyes were almost gone and she hadn’t cried by herself in almost a week. Things were slowly getting better and she seemed to be sleeping a little more each night.

Although she didn’t have a match that night, she was still expected to make an appearance. HAWK and Bishop had ordered the entire roster to be at the show, unless for some reason, which had to be cleared by them first, they weren’t. Jade didn’t have such a reason, so she was forced to watch the show from backstage. 

Jade sat on the leather couch and began to flip through a magazine, waiting for the first match to start. Her television was on, but the volume was down low. Every so often she would take a glance at the monitor, and note the arena full of screaming Hawaiian fans, all dressed in less clothing than she had on. 

Suddenly there was a soft knock on her door. An achy feeling came over her and it sat in the pit of her stomach. Slowly she stood up and walked to the door. When she opened it, there was nobody there. Jade looked down the hall. The only thing she saw was an old mop bucket and mop, dripping all over the floor. When she turned to head back into her locker room, she bumped right into Jason.

She took a deep breath and held it, looking into his dark eyes. 

“Breath” he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. She let out the breath and looked down at the floor. 

His hand on her face felt so real and comfortable. She wanted to get lost in that moment for hours, but knew she couldn’t. She pulled her face away and looked up at him.

“Sorry...I didn’t mean to...”

“It’s okay. My fault completely.” Jason kept his eyes glued to her face. She looked up at him, a hint of sadness hiding behind her green eyes. She smiled slightly and took another deep breath. 

Her heart was racing. She didn’t know how to act, what to say, or do. A hint of hope shined from his face as he looked down at Jade. His hand now rested at his side, and he wanted so badly to embrace her. But he wouldn’t.

Jade grabbed his hand and squeezed it. She then quickly let it go and headed back into the locker room, without a word. She closed the door behind her, leaving Jason out in the hall by himself. Leaning up against it, she put her head on the back of it, and a tear ran down her face. She shook her head and turned around again. She pulled the door open suddenly and peered out into the hall.

“Jason wait!”

When she stepped out into the hall, Jason was gone.

His Last Night?

The camera pans outside to see a long black stretch limo pull up to the arena in Honolulu, Hawaii. The car door opens as Vince Jacobs steps out wearing a pair of black slacks, a Hawaiian shirt, and a pair of Gucci sunglasses. Vince looked around his surroundings and then grabbed his gym bag from his driver.

Vince slung the bag over his shoulder and started to walk into the arena. One of ACW’s backstage reporters tried to get Vince’s attention as he walked into the arena.

“Mr. Jacobs, excuse me Mr. Jacobs. Can I ask you a few questions?” the reporter said

Vince stopped as the reporter was now standing in front of him. Vince looked down at the man who looked to be in his late thirties with a faded brown suit on.

“What do you want to know? How I am feeling about tonight right?” Vince said with disdain in his voice as the reporter shook his head in a yes manner.

“How do you think I feel? I have a chance to do something big tonight. I have a chance to retire Osyrus, the man that made ACW and win the King of Ages Tournament. This task would be damaging for someone not of my caliber but I am “Superstar” Vince Jacobs. I am no ordinary man.” Vince said

“Tonight I am going to defy the odds and show the world why I prove every night that I am the best this business has to offer.” Vince said with a smirk

“But what if you are ret--- “ The reporter said before getting cut off by Vince

“Osyrus retire me?” Vince laughs “Not likely. But if by some sort of miracle he does retire me from ACW then sobeit.”

“Is that why you signed a lucrative deal with fWo in the past two weeks?” the reporter asked

Vince started to walk past the reporter toward his dressing room. Vince turned and peered over his shoulder looking back at the reporter.

“No comment.”

Grudge Match
Khristain Keller Vs. Elijah Arson

Khristain Keller was seemingly on top of the world, he would fight later in the night to determine the King of Ages against a legend like “Superstar” Vince Jacobs, he had fucked around with staff, he had called his own shots. The only man that was getting in his way was Elijah Arson.

Not much is known about “The Constant” Elijah Arson, he likes to keep himself distant and withdrawn from everyone else. Although, it has been documented that Arson DOES have a slight anger issue. His anger is what got him this match against Khristain Keller.

Metallica’s “Dirty Window” began playing on the PA system to the displeasure of many of the fans in attendance that night. Khristain Keller peeped out from behind the curtain and was lost in the sea of boos thrown at him. K² walked down to the ring, confident, smiling, trash talking to the fans, just like an old school heel. It seemed as if Khristain Keller had everyone hating him. It also seemed that was the way he liked it. Keller approached the stairs and entered the ring as his theme died down.

And quickly after, the lights in the arena went dim. It was time for “The Constant” Elijah Arson to make his way to the ring as Superjoint Ritual’s “Fuck Your Enemy” played over the speakers. As Arson popped out, many people in the crowd started cheering based on the fact that they wanted to see Keller get his ass kicked, and some booed because Elijah seemed boring, basic. The man that walked into ACW demanding a world title shot had let go of his ego since then and had settled down. As he walked to the ring, the lights turned back to regular brightness. Arson slid in the ring and was immediately face to face with K².

“Rookie.” Keller said and immediately let out a smirk. Keller turned his attention towards the crowd behind him and raised his hand in the air.

SMACK

Keller was met by Elijah Arson’s left hand, which sent him bouncing back into the ropes. As he popped back, Arson caught Keller with one more left hand, which sent Keller back into the ropes once more. Arson lifted his leg and kicked Keller in the midsection, which caused him to bend over. Arson caught him with a right forearm to the upper back of Keller, which sent him flying down to the mat. Arson grabbed Keller’s leg and began stomping away on the right inner thigh.

Keller was screaming in pain, something he was hoping wouldn’t happen much through this night because he had the biggest match of his career coming up later in the night, but Keller wasn’t doing anything to stop him. Arson put one leg over Keller’s and pulled into a figure four leg-lock position. The crowd immediately popped and began to cheer. Arson laid back and applied pressure on Keller’s leg forcing Keller to let out a holler.

“Tap out now you son of a bitch,” Arson screamed at Keller who struggled to reach the ropes.

Keller was known for his ability to counter what seemed like almost any move that anyone could try and throw at him but Arson was holding on tightly making sure that Keller couldn’t get the best of him.

Keller was just inches away from the ropes as the crowd began booing while he moved closer. A couple of seconds passed and he had finally gotten 2 fingers on the bottom rope causing the hold to be broken.

Arson was back on the attack quickly and stomped on the right upper thigh once more. K² came into the match expecting pain but he never would have thought that Arson would be able to inflict so much pain in one area so quickly.

Arson grabbed Keller by the risk and pulled him back up to his feet and shoved him into the ropes. As Keller bounced back off, Arson lowered his head and tossed Keller over sending him flying on his back. Keller held his lower right side of his back and let out a holler once more as the crowd popped.

Arson knew that he had to keep the pace of the match going and kicked Keller in the lower back strongly with his right foot. Keller lay on his back as Arson bounced himself off the ropes, spread his legs out in front of him and connected with a big right calf across the throat. He immediately moved into position for a cover and hooked the leg.

ONE

TWO

But before the referee could get to moving his arm down, Keller lifted his shoulder up. Arson wasn’t expecting victory but he wanted Keller to know that he wasn’t just looking to kick his ass, he was looking to get the win as well.

Arson pulled Keller back up to his feet and kneed him in the midsection. He placed Keller under his arm and lifted him up in the air. He was attempting a move he calls “consistent” but Keller happened to wiggle his way out dropping behind Arson. Arson turned around and was met by a hard clothesline from K².

K² wasn’t going to let “The Constant” get back to his feet and began stomping away rapidly. Keller turned Arson on his stomach and locked his legs together. He reached over and applied an STF hold on Arson which caused the fans to start a loud uproar of boos.

“KELLER SUCKS! KELLER SUCKS!”

Arson, luckily, was inches away from the ropes and with an extension of a hand had the hold unleashed.

Keller let go of the hold and threw 3 or 4 foot stomps in Arson’s direction before going off and screaming taunts at the crowd in attendance. They immediately got the “KELLER SUCKS!” chant started again which caused K² to laugh.

As “The Constant” pulled himself back up to his feet, Keller turned his attention back towards him. As he wobbled back up, Keller came up from behind and locked his wrist around Arson’s waist. He tried to lift “The Constant” over his head but Arson didn’t budge. Keller tried once more, and once more, Arson didn’t budge.

Arson elbowed Keller in the back of the head which got him to let go of his waist. Arson turned around and attempted a clothesline (from hell, possibly?) but Keller ducked under and caught him. He hooked Arson’s other arm and placed his hands behind his head and attempted with a bubba bomb.

Arson laid on the mat and Keller hooked his leg.

ONE


TWO

T...

Shoulder up by Arson.

Keller began complaining about a slow count as he got back up to his feet. The referee insisted that was the same way he had counted for his entire career and Keller became irate. He shoved the referee into the turnbuckle which caused the referee to call for a disqualification...

But before he could, Keller threw a hard closed fist right punch to the side of the head of the referee knocking him unconscious. Keller went to the outside of the ring and grabbed and shoved the timekeeper off his chair. He folded the chair and threw it into the ring.

The crowd booed as Keller slid into the ring, picked up the chair, and pointed at Arson.

“You like to play with chairs, huh, Arson!?!?!?” K² shouted at Elijah, remembering that last week “The Constant” had knocked him out with a steel chair after his match with Janitor Morris. “Well, then come play!” Keller shouted.

As Arson struggled back up to his feet, Keller took a big swing with the chair but missed Arson’s face. However, he did connect with the midsection which caused Arson’s already injured ribs (go check the transcripts from the last couple of Courage's) to re-aggravate. The crowd booed as Keller simply shrugged it off and pulled Arson back up by the arm.

Keller ripped the tape off of the wrist of “The Constant” and stepped behind him. He lifted Elijah so that he was sitting up and wrapped the tape around his neck. He pulled back violently causing Arson to gasp in for air as he was being choked.

The crowd sat in shock as K² was trying to choke the life out of Arson. Keller pulled Arson back up to his feet by pulling harder on the tape and began laughing. Surprisingly, the tape didn’t rip and Arson was slowly fading away.

“The Constant” knew that something had to be done...and something had to be done quickly. He reared back and as a last resort move, kicked his leg in between the legs of K².

The crowd popped, Arson’s adrenaline rushed. Right now, he had Keller on his knees. He had the referee down, and he was slowly recovering from being choked. Arson tilted his head and spotted the steel chair as it lay on the mat near him. He looked around to see the crowd pop as he pointed to the chair.

Arson set himself up next to the chair and let Keller rise back up to his feet. Once he did, Arson kicked Keller in the midsection.

DENOUEMENT

DENOUEMENT

For those of you who aren’t familiar with the moveset Arson uses, this would be a Windmill Suplex.

This is also the finisher.

Hook of the leg and...

ONE

TWO

THREE!!!!

And the bell would have sounded if this was a perfect world.

But it wasn’t.

The referee was still down, Arson had nobody to make the count. He let go of Keller’s leg and helped revive the referee.

Keller was completely out of it, not knowing where he was, not moving, not in any shape to fight Vince Jacobs later on in the night in the KoA finals.

As the referee recovered, Arson laid over Khristain Keller, pulling his legs with all that he had.

ONE

TWO

THR....

NEGATIVE.

Somehow, K² had just lifted his shoulder up from the canvas causing the crowd to erupt in a chant of “TWO” and boos. Arson didn’t believe it, Keller didn’t believe it, nobody in the arena did.

An irate Arson screamed wondering what it would take to put Keller away. As Keller started moving again, Arson pulled Keller back up to his feet. While doing so, Keller pulled Arson in for a inside cradle.

And while doing so, Keller grabbed the ropes.

ONE

The crowd booed.

TWO

The crowd booed more.

THRE...

T

The crowd cheered.

The referee had lifted his head up while he was counting and saw Keller pulling away on the ropes for leverage.

“GET OFF THE ROPES, GET OFF THE ROPES NOW!” the referee shouted at Keller, who was looking around.

“What ropes?” Keller asked and began laughing.

Arson was back up to his feet as Keller stood awaiting. Arson came at Keller with a fury but Keller ducked under and threw him into the turnbuckle. Keller came in with a head of steam but Arson turned around and ducked...which meant K² had just ran into the corner.

Arson dropped down and rolled Keller up.

ONE

TWO

THREE.

................

That’s right, three.

Superjoint Ritual’s “Fuck Your Enemy” played once more as “The Constant” Elijah Arson was announced as the winner.

Not only had Keller ran into the turnbuckle, he ran straight into a loss.

With Keller in the ring stunned, Arson simply got out of the ring, not looking back, and walked to the back, satisfied with what he had done.

He had just beat Khristain Keller.

Winner: Elijah Arson

Eulogy Of A Great Man

The arena went black. 

A huge contrast to the bright lights that shone around the venue, which held ACW’s pay per view… King of Ages. Suddenly, the video wall broke the dark shadow that hide the happiness that was once present…. With a mirrored image of the video wall. And why wouldn’t All Star Championship Wrestling be happy on this night? 

Tonight, they would finally crown a world heavyweight champion, after the title was thrown to the floor in much disrespect. It would come down to either the rising star Alias or the man trying to redefine his career, after a terrific summer in Jason Kain. But with such a gain; a loss would be expected. Everything doesn’t always go as planned, now does it. Darkness reared it’s ugly head as the arena turned icy cold, as if someone turned on the AC at full blast. 

A dark purple light shined on the entrance ramp; when the video wall changed to an image of ‘Superstar’ Vince Jacobs’ face with the date June 1st, 1973 – September 2003 below it. One by one, young teenagers stepped from the back dressed in all black as they stood near the guard rail, with a black bouquet of roses in their hands. In the silence, they started to hum loudly… 

Dum. 

Dum. 

Da Dum.

Dum.

Da Dum.

Da Dum.

Da Dum.

A bell tolled lightly in the distance. A little girl dressed in the same black attire as the others; walked from the backstage area with a purple basket on her right hand… she tossed black rose petals on the entrance way, as she made her way to the ring. Seconds later to no one’s surprise, Isis stepped through the curtain and stopped right in front of the video wall… she admired it as she cried. Dressed in a black wedding type gown with a vale. 

Isis looked back to where she stepped from as Osyrus emerged to a tremendous mix reaction. He stood next to Isis in his black tuxedo with purple tie; he shook his head in disappointment as he glared at SVJ’s image. The couple walked in unison down the ramp way; Osyrus nodded to a teenager as they nodded back in respect… before putting their head down. 

The couple finally got to the ring. You could hear the teenagers humming in the background as Isis walked up ring steps, and opened the ropes for Osyrus. He was still standing on the arena floor; slightly caressing the young face of the little girl… directing her to the back as the teenagers followed her. Osyrus jumped onto the apron and entered the ring as Isis walked to the backstage area, her appearance was no longer needed. The lights grew more dim but the purple light got more darker as Osyrus rose his microphone to his face. 

“Dearly beloved. We are gathered here tonight to honor the life and times… the career and the legacy of one, ‘Superstar’ Vincent Jacobs. Also known around the world as monikers like ‘SVJ’; ‘Your God’, ‘The reason there is a show’ and my personal favorite… ‘The Ratings Grabber’. Vincent Jacobs has captivated audiences for years and grew a cult like following in his career… and it is such a shame, that it had to end here tonight.” 

A loud boo erupted from the crowd as Osyrus started to pace around the ring with the microphone. But he didn’t let the reaction phase him, continuing where he left off. 

“It’s really such a shame that it had to end this way for Mr. Jacobs. With all the success that he had gained in his illustrious career; maybe Jacobs could have went on to accomplish many more accolades in his career… here in ACW. Maybe Jacobs could have won a title and carried it, being an undefeated champion… like he was in his hay day in BCWF as their world heavyweight champion for six months. Or what about the possibility of Jacobs holding a title twice, like yours truly. 

Like he did with the WCWF International championship; RLO European championship or the IWL Tag team championship. And hold up one second, I know what your thinking… it doesn’t matter if you never heard of those places… or even know if they really existed. But what’s important, is that we are all here to honor a truly tremendous athlete.” 

Osyrus smirked, he looked at the video wall as it changed to video highlight clips. He did a voice over to the footage, as everyone turned their attention away from Osyrus. 

“See, this is exactly what I am talking about. Do you notice his quickness; his cunningness as he one upped his opponents. Doesn’t his charisma just grab you right from the screen? Making you want to be there live in the arena, that he was performing in that night. It’s too bad that we won’t get to see that anymore. Only reliving Vincent Jacobs in the past… instead of in the present. But that leads to my next question… who’s fault is it that Vincent Jacobs’ career ending. Is it his; for not living up to those high expectations of competing at his legendary status? Or is the whole world going to place blame on me, because I am a god amongst handicapped and mentally retarded children?” 

“I didn’t want to be the one to end his career. I didn’t want to be the one holding the smoking gun as Jacobs’ legacy laid dead at my feet… but he brought this on himself. Fate has a strange way of involving itself in certain situations and it played it’s part to a T in ACW. Jacobs didn’t have to arrive in ACW… he didn’t have to walk through those double doors on that faithful day, when he made his debut to attack Alias. And if you think that his arrival was all about Alias… your dead wrong. 

I know Vince better than all of you think. I know that he came to his shit hole to turn it into his next CWL. Seeing what I did when I came here… Jacobs thought he could duplicate my same feat. But I wouldn’t let that happen. I just couldn’t let that happen.”

“Why did it take Vincent Jacobs so long to learn that I am the only one that deserved to be idealized and revered as ACW’s world champion? Not Alias; not Kain, SilverHawk, ICU, Dane Rivers or any of those men that thought that they will follow in my foot steps! But Jacobs thought that he could accomplish the impossible… and you will never know the extent, to the fun I had breaking Jacobs down psychologically. We will never know if he had the potential to become a world champion again, let alone continue his profession in ACW. So what I want to say to all the ‘Superstar’ Vincent Jacob fans out there, much like I was a fan of the man myself…” 

Osyrus rose his right fist into the air, capped off with his middle finger… then looked down at the video wall with Jacobs’ trademark smile plastered all over it. 

“Here’s to the biggest piece of garbage, that the wrestling industry had ever seen. Good bye and good riddance mother fucker. Rest in pieces.” 

‘Many Men’ by 50 Cent interrupted the jeers as Osyrus left the ring and made his way to back. Tonight an epic battle would take place, but the psychological warfare was just reaching a climax. Osyrus had already defeated Vince Jacobs once… could he make it two in a row and retire the man as well? 

Only time would tell. And time was not on their side.

Doing It For The Man, Pt. 1

Joe Bishop started are the Flying Scotsmen with distaste.

To him, they were the lowest of the low when it came to professional wrestlers, because it was a sport that they were never going to take seriously. 

Never in a million years.

"Ok gentleman, I'm going to tell you exactly what I've told a few people tonight, including your opponents for tonight."

"OK mate...fire away." Tam interrupted as Bishop looked on.

"OK, as you know we've got a huge card, and only three and a half hours to do it in. With the iron man match tonight taking up a whole hour of that time, that means that we have to have a few matches that are "shorter" than others, if you know what I mean..."

"Nope..." Tam interrupted again, "do you know what that means Hammy?"

"I concur Timothy."

Tam looked at Hamish, as the big ginger Scot shrugged his shoulders.

"LISTEN...it means that you guys are only gonna have ten or fifteen minutes ring time, we'll make sure that you know when to rap it up OK?"

Bishop walked away without even listening to the answer, as TFS looked at each other, and nodded...they were up to something.

Tornado Tag Match - #1 Contendership for the Tag Team Titles
.vindication Vs. The Flying Scotsmen

"The Flower of Scotland" played as The Flying Scotsmen entered the arena, to really no response at all...but they were not moving to ring, instead Tam McKilloch had a microphone set to his lips as they both stood on the top of the ramp.

"Ladies and gentlepeople here tonight...I'm afraid that the next match on the card, will not take place."

Some boo's.

Some cheers?

"We, incase you didn't know, are the Flying Scotsmen, and the reason I say that is, we've not had a very good roll of the dice here in ACW since we debuted 2 months or so back. We've been placed in singles matches, King of Ages tournaments and now this PPV match, which will be our very first tag team match in our stint in ACW.

We came here from the UK with a very high belief about our self's, but our career here has been blackened by the actions of ourselves, and the actions of a few of the staff backstage...so therefore, right here on PPV TV, we are both handing in our pink slips...

...because we quit."

* CRACKLE *

Tam dropped the microphone as the arena sat stunned at the announcement, it wasn't that they cared that much for the fiery duo, it was the fact that they had just blatantly quit on TV...but as things began to pick up in the arena, the fans began to boo, but it wasn't at TFS.

Drake Nefarian and Liam attacked them from behind as the ran from the curtain, Tam and Hamish rolled down the ramp as the fans' interest began to pick up in the situation. Drake shouted something at the referee who stood in the ring as he quickly ran the bell, as this match was...underway?

Drake and Liam however took each of their opponents and clobbered them against the ring, as Drake took Hamish and tossed him into the ring steps, he pointed Drake into the ring, as Tam was tossed onto the canvas. Liam lifted his fist in the air as he clobbered Tam in the face with a right hand, as Hamish lay motionless on the outside of the ring after his back clattered against the ring step.

Tam was pushed up to the top rope as Drake looked on with glee on the outside, as Liam chokeslammed the Scot off of the top rope as they both hit the mat...

1...

2...

3.

.vindication had made easy work of TFS, even though they didn't even have to go through with the match.

Liam jumped out of the ring as the Scotsmen's resignation now had an exclamation point against it, as .vindication now stood as the #1 contenders for the ACW Tag Team titles...

Winner: .vindication

HELLO CUNT…

Everything had changed for him in an instant. He had admitted to being involved in a 
crime when usually it would have been overlooked. Unsurprisingly, he felt he was a victim as a result. Then again, he only had himself to blame. If he only he had made an excellent impression from the off, attained consistency and wasn’t so injury-prone he wouldn’t be in this mess that was known as All-Star Championship Wrestling. 

He may have lost his wife, girlfriend and baby in the past but one thing Keegan Carrahar, formerly of The Fighting Zone fame and currently contracted to the world-famous Fighting Federation The Asylum, will never lose is style and that was evident as he sauntered down one of the corridors in an all-grey suit and generally having a nose about. Why he was in the building when his own employers had a card of their own on a Sunday seemed strange and what made it even more peculiar was that he was in the company of ACW's founder, Charles Dunn. 

Suddenly, the pointless patter evaporated as a familiar figure walked towards the twosome. He was someone Special K recognised but Carrahar couldn’t quite remember his name. Anyway, as Dunn stopped the intimidating individual who carried a Championship belt over his shoulder, he would soon find out. 

“Vincent, I’d like you to meet…” 

Pembridge cut him off: “Keegan.” 

The Latin Luminary’s eyes lit up and he produced a wry smile that suggested he was pleased about not going senile. He knew who this person was yet still the name evaded him. 

Dunn broke Carrahar’s concentration: “You two know each other?” 

As the Newcastle native nodded, Vincent extended his hand to his compatriot: “We sure do. Hello cunt.” 

It then hit him: “Fucking hell. Don’t tell me you’re Karen’s sister?” 

“Brother.” 

“Sorry. I always get you mixed up. She looks and fights like a lad whereas you were the whipping boy that Teem and Slap used to kick the shit out of you. What was your name again? Hang on. It’ll come to me. Aye. That’s it. Jacksey! Apt an’all if you ask me.” 

In The Fighting Zone, Jakks (not Jacksey) was one half of the Gang Champions for a short spell after upending Splink, comrades of Carrahar, along with his sister Karen, who now also competes under one Joseph Campbell. Led by Sikanah, Vincent was one third of Skran-Pruk, who Keegan used to call ‘Shit-dick’ as an alternative. They had planned to take over the underground organization but saw their plans go up in smoke when the siblings lost a rematch with Splink and thereafter the corporation eventually closed. 

“Feck. Your language still stinks from here to Australia and you’ve got a face like a feckin’ slapped arse with piles for facial hair.” 

Sensing a potential showdown after merely a minute of meeting one another for the first time in over a year, Dunn shrewdly told The Yardstick that ‘he should prepare for his match with 006.392 this evening due to interference last week.’ 

Keegan protested: “Are you blind as well as totally thick? I can’t fucking wrestle like this man. I’ve got a broken hoof haven’t I?” 

Dunn wasn't so sure: “I don’t know. You tell me and while you’re at it you can tell me another thing. Are you just pretending to hate each other? Why attack 006.392, who is conveniently a member of Quinton’s Army, and isn’t it a coincidence that you two already happen to know one another? Something stinks here. 

Vincent muttered: “Your arse.” 

In actual fact, which the Englishman demonstrated by not taking his eyes off Vincent as he was ushered away from the scene, what he was trying to do was avoid a confrontation that could avoid ACW missing out on even more money. 

Now that would be disastrous.

Doing It For The Man, Pt. 1

El Emenopi looked at the entryway toward the arena. SilverHAWK had told him that he’d be able to watch the festivities and matches tonight. It was going to be sweet. His favorite superstars in the ring… and he had the front row seat. El smiled as he started to put his mob and bucket into the janitor’s closet.

“What the hell are you doing?” A voice came from behind him. “Nu-uh! We’re not letting you go to the matches tonight. You should have known that SilverHAWK ain’t around anymore!”

Joe Bishop.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no! You’re getting your ass back into that closet… grabbing your mop, broom and toilet scrubber… and you’re taking to cleaning up all of those locker rooms. You are strictly forbidden to go near ringside until it’s all done.” Bishop stared at El… smirking like he had pulled off the impossible… disappointing El (which you don’t even have to do… he does it himself all the time).

El looked at the ticket in his hand with a dashed dream. He looked down the hall. They just happened to be in an arena where every wrestler had their OWN locker room. So El wouldn’t even be able to look at the main event, unless it was through one of those screens. He frowned… then muttered the dante…

“Yes, sir.”

He pulled the mop out again, and turned to face down the hall. A tear went down his cheek as Bishop piped up.

“You show me you’re a winner, boy… and maybe I’ll show you the same respect that SilverHAWK did… MAYBE.” He turned and walked away as El got a look on his face that if any other man did it, it would mean death. 

Unfortunately… for El… it’d probably mean his own death.

Pheona...

Her beauty...

Her voice...

Her essence...

My pain...

My torture...

My want...

We're perfect for each other, us being me and her. Me, ha, you will find out soon, but now I can remain anonymous. You've seen me here before, you've heard of me, but I'm not to popular. I will never let her go, anybody who really understands the pain I have seen will notice that nobody means more to me in this world than her. I have faced heart break before but she's more than that. She's my life, if she ever left me then my life would be over, the alcohol, the drugs, the pain would be like a vision of your grandparents during intercourse. I would break down, and I guarantee the members of ACW would not be the same, anyone who would step to me would be brought down, at my hands. 

Nothing can take her from me, we are perfect. My life as of now ain't so FUCKED up.

Feeding the fall 
I can't help but desire of falling down this time 
Deep in this hole am I making 
I can't escape 
Falling all this time 

We come to this place 
Falling through time 
Living a hollow life 
Always we're taking 
Waiting for signs 
Hollow life 

Fearing to fall 
And still the ground below me calls 
Falling down this time 
Ripping apart all these things I have tried to stop 
Falling down this time 

We come to this place 
Falling through time 
Living a hollow life 
Always we're taking 
Waiting for signs 
Hollow life 

Is there ever any wonder 
Why we look to the sky 
Searching space 
Asking why? 
All alone 
Where is God? 
Looking down 
We don't know 

We fall in space 
We can't look down 
Death may come 
Peace I have found 
What to say 
Am I alive? 
Am I asleep 
Or have I died? 

(Haunting me) 

We fall in space 
We can't look down 
Death may come 
Peace I have found 

(Something takes a part of me) 

What to say 
Am I alive? 
Am I asleep? 
We fall down 

We come to this place 
Falling through time 
Living a hollow life 
Always we're taking 
Waiting for signs 

Hollow life

“Hollow Life” performed by Korn 

Retirement From ACW Match
'Superstar' Vince Jacobs Vs. Osyrus

Could anyone phantom this next match ever taking place… let alone in All Star Championship Wrestling. Two men that had craved different winding paths in the road; that many superstars yet to come, could follow for years. One man stunned this industry with his never ending charisma and flair. Winning championship after championship and became the last world champion; of what some say, could be the most influential wrestling organization... to ever be created. It spanned many decades and he has the honor of having his name synonymous with that federation. 

But when MR. CWL has his sights set on something, who would be crazy enough to stop him? Is it a coincidence that the man trying to stop, the last champion of the CWL promotion... is the first champion of another promotion; which is rising and setting trends as we speak. 

Would anyone be surprised that ACW’s cornerstone champion; has decided to remind everyone, that he is the real star of the show? An accomplished rookie in his own right; moving into the sophomore year of his wrestling career and has acquired enough acclaim… that many think that he is more experienced than he seems... Even against the cagiest of veterans like Mr. CWL. 

When it is all said and done; and the smoke has lifted into the air vents… who’s going to prevail? The relentless rookie with nothing to lose or the living legend that doesn’t look to let the spotlight fade out, just yet. That question would be answered in mere moments. Here at King of Ages. Sit back, watch and enjoy. 

The ring announcer slowly walked up the metal and steel ring steps, in his black tuxedo… receiving quite a reaction. The video wall appeared with Osyrus’ and Vince Jacobs’ facial images, with a ladder spinning in between them. He pulled a microphone from his pocket, lifted it to his top lip. The announcer looked forward at the camera that stood before him… 

“Our next contest is the ladder match,” Insert a tremendous pop just as a spot light shined on the two contracts; that dangled from the silver iron ring, 20 feet above the squared circle. “There are numerous ways that a winner can be decided in this special one on one match up. They can either win by pin fall; make their opponent quit via submission. Or either man can scale any ladder that is placed around the ring, and grab the contracts from the silver ring.” 

He paused; placing his fingers over his ear, when he looked to the announcer’s table. 

“… I have just been informed that this match will also be Falls count anywhere and No holds barred!” Another loud eruption emitted from the live viewing crowd, just when the lights in the arena started to dim as the announcer looked down the ramp way. 

“So you wanna be a ring superstar, and live large
a big house, 5 cars, you’re in charge.
Comin’ up in the world, don’t trust nobody…
Gotta look over your shoulder constantly.”

Purple and gold strobe lights flickered and flashed through out the arena as a golden star from the Hollywood Walk of Fame was shown. The crowd gave a mixed reaction while the announcer got on the mic, amidst ‘Ring Superstar’ by Cypress Hill playing in the background. 

“Coming to the ring… from Hollywood, California. 6’5” and weighing in at 247 pounds. ‘The Ratings Grabber’, ‘The reason there is a show’ and ‘Your God’. Here is ‘Superstar’ Vince Jacobs!” He pointed his arm toward the curtain; and like a Hollywood actor, on his mark… SVJ had arrived. 

“You wanna be a ring superstar in the biz… 
and take shit from people who don’t know what it is
I wish it was all fun and games, but the price of fame is high…
and some can’t pay the way.

Still trapped in what you rapping about 
Tell me what happened when you lost 
The route you took started collapsing
No fans no fame no respect no change no women
And everybody shittin on your name.”

SVJ had made his way to the base of the ring; he glared at the design for the King of Ages PPV before sliding into ring. He spun in the center of the ring, arms extended outward while flash bulbs went off. The crowd ate of every bit of arrogance that Jacobs exuded with another round of jeers. SVJ paced in the ring, when his theme died out and the announcer got back onto the mic. 

“And his opponent hails from San Diego, California. 6’8” and weighing in at 288 pounds. ‘The personification of talent’, ‘A legend in the making’, and ‘Often imitated… but never duplicated’. Here is the former two time All Star Championship wrestling world heavy weight champion… Osyrus!” The camera moved to SVJ’s face for his reaction. He frowned when the arena fell into darkness, when Osyrus’ video wall started to play. 

“Rape me
Rape me, my friend 
Rape me
Rape me again.”

Suddenly gunfire interrupted as the images on the video wall shattered and Osyrus stepped from the back, and cautiously made his way to the ring.

“Now these pussy niggas putting money on my head
Go on and get your refund motherfucker; I ain’t dead
I’m the diamond in the dirt, that ain’t been found
I’m the underground king and I ain’t been crowned 
When I rhyme, something special happens every time
I’m the greatest, something like Ali in his prime.”

After he made his way down the aisle; Osyrus was now in the far corner of the ring, crouching opposite to SVJ. His trademark hoodie over his head, where he tightened his grips with the top rope as he bended to the ground. Jacobs walked to the center of the ring; motioning Osyrus to come stand toe to toe with him. But he refused as Osyrus told the referee to keep Jacobs back. 

“Turn your back me, get clapped and lose your legs 
I walk around gun on my waist, chip on my shoulder
Till I bust a clip in your face, pussy, this beef ain’t over.”

“Many Men” performed by 50 Cent.

Osyrus made the shape of a gun out of his hand as he pointed it at Jacobs, with a contradicting smirk. SVJ didn’t like that gesture too much. Vince rose up his right hand and gave Osyrus the finger, mouthing the words “Fuck you Omar”. The ref pointed at both men, then called for the bell as the match was under way. Osyrus threw his hoodie onto the ground; both men met nose to nose in the center of the squared circle, where Osyrus had the height and size advantage as he towered above SVJ. He measured him with his right hand… Jacobs slapped it away, then preceded to shove Osyrus back, as he slapped him simultaneously for good measure. 

Osyrus felt his left cheek; he couldn’t believe the disrespect and the gull, that Jacobs had to do such a thing. Osyrus immediately lost his composure… he charged full speed ahead and got drop toe held in the center of canvas. SVJ spun on Osyrus’ back, striking him in the head with open palm slaps. Jacobs jumped to his feet as the crowd roared with excitement, while the tension boiled. Osyrus got up to a knee; blowing smoke from his nose like an enraged beast. 

Then he motioned for SVJ to try that again as he put both arms into the air, for the test of strength. Jacobs hesitated at first; moving his left arm upward to the sky, while looking at the contracts above as his finger tips wiggled furiously. SVJ locked his hand with Osyrus’ right; starting to move the right arm up cautiously… when he was doubled over by a unforgiving shot to the stomach. 

The former champion kept the momentum going as he wrenched on the arm of Jacobs; by twisting inward toward the inside of the Jacobs’ elbow. And every time Vince looked in Osyrus’ direction, he would get his jaw reconstructed by a stiff left hand jab… which knocked the perspiration from Jacobs’ face. After taking about five unblocked punches; Jacobs went down to one knee as Osyrus applied more pressure. Vince felt out his next move… inching closer to Osyrus’ right leg; slightly touching it, before ducking under the standing arm bar. In a matter of seconds, Jacobs leapt into the air and whipped Osyrus to the canvas with an arm drag take down. 

The crowd applauded the series of moves while both men got back to their feet simultaneously. Jacobs squeezed his left hand continually to get the blood flow back as Osyrus started to crawl closer to him… reaching out to grab one of his legs, while Jacobs jumped back to avoid contact. In the center of the ring; Osyrus kneeled as he taunted SVJ to prove to him that he could keep him down… extending his arms outward, looking up into the sky. 

And the ‘Superstar’ obliged with a low drop kick aimed right at the temple. Osyrus went down quickly… SVJ pounced to keep the advantage, drilling fists of fire into his opponent’s face. Osyrus powered out of the press; rolling to his left and sprang to a vertical base… where he clotheslined SVJ to the canvas with a thud. Osyrus wasted no time to drop down on Jacobs, hooking the leg. 

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Strong kick out by Jacobs even before the ref’s hand could hit two. Osyrus went from the cover straight into mounted punches; but SVJ reversed. Forearm shots to the bridge of the nose followed. Osyrus, somehow had a counter of his own... he grabbed Jacob’s left forearm and rolled back into arm breaker with both legs clamped on the elbow. The ref asked if Vince wanted to submit as the crowd’s reaction grew, but he refused and powered himself to his feet. 

Osyrus still held on with his 290 pound frame of muscle… Jacobs continually tried to shake him off; before changing his attack to kicks to the small of the back with the point of his boot. Then he bridged over quickly for the pin fall while Osyrus’ shoulders were on the mat. 

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Osyrus barely escaped as he released Jacob’s arm to kick out in time. Jacobs flew around the ring; running against the ropes and connecting with the back of Osyrus’ head with Star Gazer. The stiff shining wizard echoed loudly while Mr. Christensen kneeled on the canvas. But to SVJ’s dismay, Osyrus still didn’t go down. SVJ glanced at the ring ropes behind Osyrus momentarily; before he ran toward them. And finally grounded his adversary with a falling bulldog head lock. Osyrus bounced onto his back when Jacobs’ signaled the end, as he pointed to the ropes to his right. Catapulting off of the middle rope; soaring back into the center of the ring with an Asai moonsault… 

but got all of Osyrus’ knees instead. Jacobs rolled around clutching his stomach before Osyrus stretched him out to hook the outside leg, and pulled back for the cover. 

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SVJ squeaked the left shoulder out from under Osyrus’ weight. Crawling away to distant himself to recover from the pain; SVJ still got rolled up a second time, where he kicked out at two. Osyrus yanked SVJ by the leg, toward his direction… where he dropped the elbow right onto Jacob’s rib cage. Osyrus went for another calculated elbow… nobody home. Jacobs rolled out of the way, and when Osyrus got back to his feet to follow up… 

THUD. 

He was taken down by a dangerous DDT with authority. Vince Jacobs took a couple of seconds to gather his wits; before he growled angrily, resulting in a stomp to Osyrus’ head. Then Jacobs dropped a forearm leading elbow to Osyrus’ throat. Jacobs became enraged, now he choked Osyrus with both hands wrapped around his throat.. while yelling down to him. Adding insult to injury. 

“How do you like that Omar; do you like it rough? I bet Isis does.” Jacobs smirked as he pressed his thumbs, right under Osyrus’ chin. Osyrus responded with a choke of his own, before he broke the choke on him with a double axe handle upward… followed by an uppercut to SVJ’s throat. Jacobs slide out of the ring to escape, but Osyrus was mere foot steps behind him. 

Knocking him to the ground with an reverse clothesline to the back of Jacobs’ head, who almost hit the guard rail as he was falling. Osyrus lifted him up by the hair… where he would suddenly whip Jacobs hard into metal ring steps, in front of the announcer’s table as they became unhinged. Osyrus pushed Jacobs’ face down with his wrist, making another pin fall attempt. 

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2

Jacobs powered out and the match was still under way. Osyrus rolled SVJ into the ring first, as he slide under the bottom rope. Osyrus toke too long, as he was stopped in his tracks when Jacobs hopped to his feet… and dropped the back of his leg, across the back of Osyrus’ neck. SVJ kept the larger of the two men down with his blinding quickness; spring boarded from the near by second rope, twisting and slamming a modified flying elbow into Osyrus’ back. 

Vince ducked through the ropes as he stood on the apron. He looked as cocky as only the most cockiest son of a bitch could look… Glancing to the left; slowly moving to the right, before sling shooting himself onto Osyrus’ back with a Senton bomb. Jacobs rolled to his feet and wasted no time to show how proud he was of that last maneuver. 

Raising both arms into the air, making the quick cover on Osyrus. He kicked out at two before Jacobs sprung to his feet to lock both of his hands together; dropping the elbow back onto Osyrus with much tenacity. Jacobs went for another quick cover. 

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Osyrus pushed Jacobs off and started to mount a kneeling comeback. He threw hooking jabs into SVJ’s bread basket, only to stop momentarily as he tried to back sweep the legs out from under Jacobs. But the ‘Superstar’ jumped over Osyrus’ leg and drop kicked him right in the face… doing a flip in mid air. SVJ crawled over quickly, making the cover so Osyrus could use his energy to kick out. And that plan seemed to be the motive of both men. 

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Osyrus kicked away at the last second; becoming vertical on his feet, only milliseconds before Jacobs would roll to his right onto his feet… only to go back down, when Osyrus delivered a stiff martial arts kick to the chest. ‘The Beast’ wasted no time to scoop Jacobs into his massive arms; then tossed him across the ring with a high overhead belly to belly suplex. Vince crashed into the mat… shooting pain ricocheted across his back. But he got no time to recover as Osyrus picked him up into another front waist lock; pausing to synch in a tight bear hug… eventually belly to belly suplexing SVJ again. 

Jacobs ended up near the ropes; where Osyrus floated over for the cover, only getting a quick two count. SVJ fought back to his feet with over hand haymaker type punches, but Osyrus blocked and the two men traded punches into the center of the ring. Osyrus started to take over on SVJ; he connected now with two straight jabs to the stomach… grabbing Jacobs by the wrist as he shot him across the ring. 

SVJ bounced off of the ropes with tremendous speed, Osyrus ducked down before arching up as he pushed SVJ upward with a back body drop. Some how SVJ countered in mid air, and drop kicked Osyrus right in the bridge of the nose. A tremendous roar from the crowd bellowed while both men tried to get to their feet. 

Jacobs being the first one up, moved swiftly behind the disoriented Osyrus… Where he locked his right arm cross Osyrus’ throat; ran forward and dropped him on his shoulder with an reverse ace crusher. SVJ pulled Osyrus up by the throat a consecutive time; rotating Osyrus’ neck around clockwise… before taking him to the ground via stiff swinging neck breaker. Jacobs reached for the inside leg to make the cover. 

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Disappointment started to set in on the face of one, Vincent Jacobs. He punched the canvas in anger when Osyrus had kicked out again. SVJ looked up for a second at the contracts hanging above... as if they were calling his name. Snapping back into reality as he rattled his opponent’s brain with a flurry of right handed punches. SVJ picked Osyrus up; he whipped him into the ropes, as the man that was also fighting for his contract was still dazed… before being clothes-lined out of the ring. 

Jacobs slide under the bottom rope; on the opposite side of the ring as the crowd started to cheer… because he just slide in the 15 ft high ladder. SVJ propped up the ladder in the middle of the ring, flash bulbs flickered in the background… as he made his way up. Vince Jacobs jumped back onto the canvas; ran toward the ropes as he baseball slide into Osyrus’ face to buy time… now going back to the ladder, that led upward. Osyrus gathered himself; hurried into the ring, but got kicked away by Jacobs’ right leg to his face. SVJ moved up the rungs faster now. 

Because he knew that his bald headed assassin; the one trying to single handily kill off his career… would be on his ass in no time. Jacobs looked up as his finger tips touched one of the corners of the contracts.. before he felt a sharp pain, shoot to his groin. Jacobs looked over his shoulder as Osyrus flipped him off, and drove in another low blow with his right ripping bicep with a big smirk. Jacobs doubled over; holding onto the ladder with his right arm, before Osyrus gripped him by the waist and lifted SVJ off of the ladder… both of men slammed into the canvas below with a back drop suplex. 

The crowd applauded while each man stirred on different locations on the mat. Osyrus finally got to his feet first; he smirked his evilly wicked smile.. pushing over the ladder into a near by corner, still propped open. He yanked SVJ closer to him by his right ankle; flipping him face down, before Osyrus positioned himself in between the CWL world champion’s open legs. Osyrus waist locked Jacobs from behind… glanced over his shoulder momentarily as he rolled back and Wheel barreled suplexed SVJ into the ladder as it slammed shut. 

HOLY SHIT! 


HOLY SHIT! 


HOLY SHIT! 

And the chant continued to break out while Osyrus stood and admired his master piece of pain. He pulled Jacobs away from the ladder; hooked both legs and went for the cover. 

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Jacobs got the right shoulder up just in time as the crowd awed. Osyrus looked down at SVJ as he tried to fight his way back into this match up… receiving a stern boot to the left side of his face… that made him think otherwise about getting up. Osyrus stepped through the ropes; where he made his way to the announcer’s table and the person that was sitting in the chair that he wanted… wasn’t sitting there for long as they were thrown to the floor. Osyrus lifted the open chair into the air; and when the audience heard the metal clang that chair made when it was closed… they knew that the real battle was just getting started. 

Osyrus jumped onto the apron… changing his mind to go back for the ring bell. He tossed it into the ring as it made a ding upon impact with the canvas. Osyrus took his time as he wiped off his feet off on the apron, before he ducked in between the ropes… and got nailed with a Superstar Kick that partially connected with his jaw from the rallying SVJ. Vince Jacobs stood some what triumphantly. After all he had taken from Osyrus thus far… he knew that he wanted more of the man that screwed around with his life. His profession that he made an art form of. Jacobs held his back with his right arm, leaning down to pick up the steel chair.. that looked like a glowing beacon of light in the darkness. Osyrus started to get back to his feet slowly, one leg before the other… 

WHAM! 

A shot to back from Jacobs, made Osyrus’ chest stick out in pain. He tried to fight off the pain before another round of assault from the steel weapon… rained over his body with revenge. SVJ uppercut the chair into Osyrus’ rib cage; culminating with another shot to the cranium, as Osyrus laid against the ropes stunned. Jacobs lifted Osyrus off of the ropes and into the air as he spun counter clock wise; toward the ladder but didn’t slam him… until Jacobs completed the 360 spin with A Star is Born into one of the legs of the ladder. Osyrus screamed out, almost getting broken in half when his spine cracked with the unforgiving metal. SVJ pounced and made the pin fall. 

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Osyrus powered out at the last second, and with much difficulty. Vince knew that he had the match under control now. Moving around the ring more cockier, taking his time to taunt Osyrus. Jacobs enjoyed pushing Osyrus’ face down into the canvas with his right boot, before pulling him into the center of the ring. Jacobs walked back over to the ladder; he bent down to pick it up and placed it diagonally to Osyrus’ body, as he spat on his hated adversary’s chest. 

SVJ walked away… going into a sprint to the far side of the ring; rolling on the canvas as he leapt into the air. Jacobs wouldn’t hurt himself to hurt Osyrus… oh no. He leapt over the ladder, mind you and down across the throat of Osyrus with an modified Guillotine leg drop. Jacobs stood next to the damn near decapitated neck of Osyrus as he pointed to his brain. 

“You don’t think I am that stupid do you?” The SVJ marks roared their approval as Jacobs went for the cover, but Osyrus powered out and showed it would take a lot to kill him off. Vince Jacobs applauded his adversary’s tenacity, going back to his weapon of momentary choice as he bounced the steel against the metal. The sound of the two objects clashing… with Osyrus on the bottom as he felt every hit jolt his body. Jacobs slowly dropped down for another attempt. 

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Osyrus kicked away, his energy slowly started to come back. SVJ tossed the chair to his left; he hooked Osyrus with a front face lock, looking for the Starburst… the stiff brainbuster type suplex, but it was blocked. He tried again; and like before, Osyrus wrapped his right leg behind SVJ’s leg… punching Jacobs into left side of his rib cage. Jacobs released the front face lock and was immediately taken over with a judo type snap mare. A kick in the small of SVJ’s back quickly followed as the crowd awed and felt Jacobs’ pain… as more kicks to the back and chest echoed loudly. 

But nobody expected that Osyrus would drop onto Jacobs as he sat on the canvas. Moving his right arm under Jacobs’ right arm pit and the other arm, across the back of SVJ’s neck… where he locked both hands together. The modified Dragon Clutch had been applied in the center of the ring and Jacobs frantically tried to escape. 

Osyrus had the submission move locked in tight for about thirty seconds as SVJ started to fade. He started to scrunch his body inward as Osyrus stayed in control.. now leaning forward. All of sudden, a knee to the nose startled the former ACW champion. Then another caught him in the side head, in addition to two more from both knees as Osyrus released the hold as his nose bleed. SVJ spun around to his left.. back to his feet, turned around and walked right into an one step clothesline from Osyrus. He dropped down for the cover. 

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SVJ got the shoulder up and in a hurry. Osyrus stomped away on Jacobs before he tried to pick him up, and got a thumb to the eye. SVJ backed stepped.. he tried to clothesline Osyrus out of the ring, but was reversed to the outside with a back body drop. Luckily Vince maneuvered himself nicely and landed on the apron. Osyrus turned around; swinging with a left hooking punch, but Jacobs ducked and hung Osyrus up on the top rope. Jacobs pulled Osyrus to the outside by the ankle as he laid on the canvas… lifting him up with a scoop and dropped him on the guard rail, neck first. 

SVJ grabbed Osyrus by the wrist and whipped him hard into the far ring steps, as it made a loud crash when Osyrus’ 288 pound frame slammed into it. Jacobs picked up one of the ladders that laid near ringside, adjusting it on his shoulder... he waited as his facial expression grew more intense. Probably thinking back to the time, when this man screwed him out of his first ACW title shot. And when Osyrus finally got to a vertical base… 

CLUNK 

The top of the ladder flew right into Osyrus’ face like an American scud missile aimed at IRAQ. Down he laid on the concrete floor as blood slowly dripped from the right side of his face. SVJ hopped back on to the apron; he looked at the temporarily beaten Osyrus, and the contracts that awaited him… 20 ft. above the ring. 

Should he go for the contracts or should he really finish off his biggest challenge to date in ACW? 

Contracts. 

Osyrus.

Contracts. 

Osyrus. 

SVJ headed to the top rope while Osyrus started to stir on the outside. Jacobs finally made it to the top; he extended his arms into the air, before Jacobs flipped backwards… Opening his arms wide as flash bulbs flashed, when he fell onto Osyrus with is shooting star press, The Rating Grabber. Vince Jacobs got a great reaction from the fans for once. The fans he hated so much. No one was sitting as SVJ got up and back into the ring gingerly. He paused; to look to the floor as Osyrus laid seemingly motionless. Vince propped the ladder into the center of the squared circle as he began his ascent to the top. That’s when a familiar hand grabbed the top of the apron. 

The fans started to boo as Osyrus pulled himself back into the ring as SVJ was almost at the top. Surprisingly Osyrus crouched down; not rushing to try and pull SVJ, who was three - fourths of the way up.. but was near the ropes, bent down. Suddenly Osyrus took off like a rocket; as he jumped and slammed his shoulder into the ladder, with his patented spear/gore… Nowhere to Run, Nowhere to Hide. The ladder slowly started to titer back and fourth, before falling back while SVJ still held on. Inevitably he jumped off as the ladder and Jacobs himself fell over the top rope… to the other side of the arena floor. 

HOLY SHIT! 


HOLY SHIT!


HOLY SHIT! 

The ref examined the broken bodies around the ring. SVJ on the outside holding his ribs and Osyrus on the mat, with his right arm on his left shoulder. What else these two men would do to each to win this match…was only known by two of the most successful heels in the wrestling business. Osyrus got to his feet and dropped down and slide under the bottom ring rope. He walked over to SVJ, hooked the outside leg as Osyrus made the cover by the guard rail. 

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Jacobs got the shoulder up after taking the horrendous fall from inside the ring, which got a few applauds from the fans. Osyrus on the other hand, stood up as he kicked the guard rail in anger. He screamed down to Jacobs, grabbing him by the hair… spiting on his face as he talked. 

“Why don’t you just quit already? 

Don’t you know what I can do to you? 

Don’t you realize the pain that I going to cause you, if you don’t give up?” 

Jacobs responded with a spit to Osyrus’ face.. which didn’t make matters any better. Osyrus pulled Jacobs up like man possessed; slamming him head first into the barrier numerous times, before Osyrus tossed him back into the ring. Osyrus picked up the dented ladder and also re-introduced it back into the ring, while SVJ was back onto a knee. Jacobs got back onto his feet; and a forearm to the back almost made him kiss the canvas again. Turning around with Osyrus’ help, Jacobs was placed across the shoulders of the former champion… and everyone knew Oblivion was only mere moments away. 

Osyrus paused; rotating SVJ with a slight spin, but Jacobs countered at the last second… and drove all his weight onto Osyrus’ head and neck, with a Tornado DDT into the near by ladder. Jacobs threw his arm over the chest of Osyrus. 

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The crowd blew up with excitement as Osyrus got the shoulder up at two and nine tenths seconds. Jacobs’ reaction was just the opposite; getting back to his feet, and pulled his hair out of its pony tail “You son of a bitch,” he murmured as he kicked Osyrus in the top of his head. “Why won’t you stay down?!” SVJ scooped Osyrus up, then slammed him into the center of the ring… he walked to the corner, but stopped to pick up the steel chair on the way. 

Jacobs made his way to the top; steel chair held tightly in his right hand… as he tried to balance himself correctly. SVJ leapt into the air, tucking the chair underneath his right leg.. coming across the face of Osyrus with Shining Star, the Guillotine leg drop from the top rope. Jacobs rubbed on the back of his leg, he made the cover as the crowd counted in unison. Maybe that was the move to end the match… 

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But it wasn’t as Osyrus escaped. ‘Superstar’ Vince Jacobs had officially had enough. He got up to a knee as he walked over to the ring bell; that laid on the canvas, literally untouched. Jacobs crouched down, where he tucked the bell under his arm… waiting for Osyrus to get up. Slowly Osyrus got up from the canvas, on both knees. A few seconds went by and Osyrus was now on one knee. Jacobs was chopping at the bit when Osyrus got up to a vertical base and turned around… the bell was aimed right at the former champion’s head, but Osyrus ducked at the last second… SVJ with the big swing and a miss. 

When both men turned to each other; SVJ went for the three boots to the gut, and locked Osyrus in a front face lock… Star Struck was moments away. But Osyrus countered as he pushed Jacobs back into the ropes, catching him in Irreverence. SVJ and Osyrus both jumped into the air; but Jacobs drove furious elbows to the right side of Osyrus’ head, to escape the Rock Bottom type move... and did so successfully. SVJ back pedaled near the ropes, he slapped his right thigh for the another Superstar Kick and lunged forward… but it was caught. 

The fans roared because Jacobs knew he was in trouble now as he bounced on one leg, in the center of the ring. Osyrus smirked as he spun Jacobs around in a circle… Jacobs caught himself and tried to clothesline Osyrus but he ducked. When SVJ turned around this time, he was on Osyrus’ shoulders… shades of Courage a week before flashed through his mind; when he lost to Osyrus via Oblivion, in the center of the ring. 

Jacobs was in position as Osyrus walked toward the ladder with SVJ. Suddenly he moved over to the ring bell quickly… releasing Jacobs’ legs first, dipping his massive shoulder as Osyrus snapped SVJ’s neck over onto the bell. Jacobs laid face down in the canvas as Osyrus sat next him. He just sat motionless as he admired what he had just done. Slowly turning Jacobs over, Osyrus covered the bloody face of his opponent… who slightly twitched. 

1


2


Osyrus pulled Jacobs’ shoulder off of the canvas… as he started to laugh, pointing to the contracts. “Did you think I was going to take the easy way out, Vinny? I am going to climb that ladder, grab your contract and… well. You’ll see what I do with it.” Osyrus rose to his feet slowly; fatigue was definitely playing a huge part now, after both men had shed their blood… so one man can say they defeated the other. 

Osyrus lifted the ladder up in the center of the ring; he looked up to make sure that it was directly under the contracts. SVJ made his way to his feet… blood poured from his head as he stumbled dizzily toward the ladder. Osyrus was slowly making his way up, Jacobs right underneath him. Low blow from Jacobs momentarily stopped ‘The Personification of Talent’ from going any further. 

Vince Jacobs tried to climb over Osyrus, but he got up and SVJ was now on his back… as Osyrus still climbed to victory. Jacobs wrapped his grip around Osyrus’ throat tighter with a sleeper hold. Osyrus was now on the second to last rung.. when SVJ jumped back as let his momentum carry both men back down. And what a thunderous pop the crowd made when Osyrus and SVJ were taken out with SVJ’s own Falling Star from the top of the ladder. Osyrus’ head hit the canvas with a thud, and Jacobs’ jaw got jacked by colliding with Christensen’s forehead. 

It was now a race to the top. ‘Superstar’ Vince Jacobs was face down in the mat. Osyrus was on his back… arms extended in a crucifix. The ref went back and fourth to check to see if both were breathing; and they were as the match continued. Both men started to stir; SVJ pushed himself up very slowly and crawled to the ladder. Osyrus turned over and pulled himself to the ladder, sliding on his belly like the snake that he was. 

Jacobs was the first to the ladder, doing chin ups to move himself on the rungs. Osyrus got there about five seconds later… mimicking the same technique. Both men moved up their side of the ladder slowly, all the fans in attendance still standing.. watched the race. SVJ was now near the top, Osyrus seconds behind as he threw a wild punch that stopped Jacobs for a second. He moved faster up the ladder, while Jacobs was stunned as both men were on the same rung. SVJ threw a wild punch that staggered Osyrus; he returned the favor, now these two superstars traded punches in the heavens… as the contracts were only a few feet above. 

Osyrus reached for the contracts first; but got punched in the arm pit by Jacobs. SVJ tried his luck, but Osyrus too was not giving any leeway… as he tried to push Vince to the floor but Jacobs grabbed the top of the ladder to save himself. SVJ retaliated with a stern head but to Osyrus’ already busted nose… he stepped on the top rung and reached for the contracts. But Osyrus’ hard jab to the groin doubled him over and stopped him in his tracks. A front face lock from Osyrus made the tension build as he looked behind himself… where he lifted Jacobs off of the ladder, and hooked the right leg for his patented Reckless Abandon. 

Jacobs too hooked in a front face lock as Osyrus pulled SVJ vertically straight up and leapt off of the ladder. And seemingly bright flashed went off simultaneously in the arena, while both men soared through the air. But what goes up, must come down.. and when these two men came down on the outside of the ring, where they landed on the announcer’s table… it exploded underneath them upon impact.

CRASH! 

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” The fans yelled near ringside as both men took the death defying to the concrete floor. 

HOLY SHIT! 

HOLY SHIT! 

HOLY SHIT! 

HOLY SHIT! 

HOLY SHIT! 

And the chant started to die down now as the ref looked on from inside the ring. He was motionless due to shock, until fans near ringside pointed to Jacobs’ arm on top of Osyrus. The referee slide outside as he made the count on part of the broken announcer’s table. The fans counted in unison. 


1! 




2!




3! 


Standing on top of a folding chair, the announcer made the announcement official. “And your winner of the match… ‘Superstar’ Vince Jacobs. 

“So you wanna be a ring superstar, and live large
a big house, 5 cars, you’re in charge.
Comin’ up in the world, don’t trust nobody…
Gotta look over your shoulder constantly.”

The ref went over to check to see if both men were breathing; and luckily they were as EMT’s ran from the backstage. They slowly lifted both men up and helped them into the ring for the announcement of the contracts. SVJ was placed in one corner and Osyrus was in the opposite one. Blood ran down both men faces, far away looks were evident in each man’s eyes. Suddenly Isis calmly walked down the ramp way and entered the ring… she checked on her master as the contracts were lowered from the ceiling. He whispered something into Isis’ ear; she obliged his request as she grabbed the contracts from the ref… calling for the microphone. 

“Since Vince Jacobs is in no condition to make any announcement, I have decided to make it on his behave. What he is going tell you is that he won the retirement match. Big deal, you all have realized that by now. But what he doesn’t know and won’t tell you, is that even he doesn’t know how long the retirement is for. Before Ethan Winters untimely death, he made sure that this situation would never take place… how could a federation such as All Star Championship Wrestling shun the man, that carried this promotion like no one else will probably do in the present.. or even in the future. Winters knew that ACW might have turned on Osyrus. So he made a contract where Osyrus couldn’t be really retired. Vince Jacobs may have won the battle tonight; but he didn’t win the war. 

Osyrus will be back in ACW. 

Whether it be in a week; in a month, six months… or even a year of supposed retirement. 

One thing is for sure, Osyrus will one day return to reclaim his place at ACW’s throne. I can promise you that.” 

Isis dropped the microphone as she helped Osyrus out of the ring. Vince Jacobs snarled in the corner, slowly making his way to the ropes facing the ramp way. 

SVJ knew that this issue with Osyrus wasn’t over by a long shot. But he other things to worry about… ‘Superstar’ Vince Jacobs had a title shot to win

Winner: "Superstar" Vince Jacobs

Doing It For The Man, Pt. 2

The door swung open as a topless Jade jumped to hide behind her locker door. El walked in, not noticing he just walked into Jade’s room, and started cleaning up stuff. Finally he stopped in front of the trashcan. It was obviously Jade’s “time of month”…

“Aye de mi!” El jumped back, screaming. “I’m not touching THAT! Eeet’s… eet’s… Ewww, mang! Who the hell dabs a bloody nose with a tampon!”

Jade looked around the corner of her locker door, as El looked up and freaked out. His modesty had grown a lot since his “porno” days… and he covered his eyes. Jade pulled her top on, quickly and stepped out from behind her door.

“What are you doing in here!?”

“Sorry, senorita… Perdon el intrusion. I was told to clean the locker rooms before I can go and watch the show.” El frowned. “I still have 10 lockers left. And the show’s half over.”

Jade smiled a little. She hadn’t done that in a while. She felt bad for him and walked over, putting an arm around him.

“Mr. Bishop won’t let me near the reeng unless I show heem I’m a weener.”

“Show him your wiener?” Jade got startled by the notion that Joe Bishop might be a sexual harasser. El jumped back at what she said, not realizing he said the same thing.

“No! A WEENER! A PERSON WHO WEENS!”

Jade raised an eyebrow and stepped away from El covering her chest at the sound of him talking about a weaning. El slapped himself in the face, and just shook his head.

“El champion!”

Jade’s eyes went wide, and started to laugh at the confusion. El smirked, then frowned again, sighing about his predicament.

“Don’t worry, El… one day you will be a champion. Have hope.”

He face turned almost motherly as she smiled at him. He smiled back.

“Thank you senorita… at least someone has faith in me.” He walked back over to his mop bucket, and looked at the trashcan. “But I’m still not touching that.”

Jade got an upset look on her face as El walked out, leaving the dirty trash can… dirty. Then she giggled, and turned back to her locker and sat down.

El slammed the door behind him. Someone had faith in him… for once.

DARE...

The camera cuts to the video screen where red and white static is being played.  The fans sit back in their seats, assuming that it is just another technical difficulty.  Suddenly, the lights black out and the static's noise begins to get louder.  The speakers pitch quickly changes from a high-pitched moan to a low rumbling.  "Coagulate" by, Snapcase begins to blare over the P.A. system.

Keegan vs. 006.392

Twenty four hours ago, Keegan Carrahar’s short-lived stint in The Asylum came to an abrupt end as his half brother John C. Willis was stopped by the silent and skilled assassin, Thanh Vactor. 

The fact that he wasn’t even able to defend himself in what was the most important affair in his professional life showed he was in such a sad state and he insists that he would have competed had he been cleared to do so. 

Therefore, it does appear to be ridiculous that he has been requested to make his ACW debut this evening against 006. 392. 

However, considering the financial arrears the federation faces, the board cannot afford to keep passengers and in that respect they have every right to demand that the Englishman is officially unveiled to the audience. 

In addition, to add meaning to this meeting other than to showcase a new signing, Keegan cost the Youth Of The Nation his grudge match against Damnson. Of course, it was 006.392 who had became close to Damnson during their tenure together under the Television titleholder Quinton May until the latter did the unthinkable and left them in the lurch to side with the enemy – Vincent Pembridge. 

Surely, Special K, who knew the Scorpion of Manchester from The Fighting Zone, wouldn’t have attacked YOTN if he knew all of the aforementioned beforehand? 

We were about to find out. 

“Forest” by System Of A Down. 

006.392 walked out to a wonderful reception. Although he was clad in the same attire, sporting a dark red tanktop, knee-length denim shorts and the customary black shoes, the approach to the squared circle was very different. Unlike last week, where he stormed out at a speed that could challenge Kim Collins for his World crown, he sauntered to the ring. 

While he didn’t hate the newcomer to the degree that he despised Damnson, he wanted to prove a point and conserve his energy for the Englishman. Plus this was the King of Ages Pay-Per-View – a historic evening in the history of All-Star Championship Wrestling. And 006.392 wanted to make an impression on everyone, particularly the Prince of Palermo. 

As YOTN stood perched on the top turnbuckle applauding the capacity crowd for their affection and adulation, “Prizefighter” by British Band Bush began and the QA member came down to earth as soon as he spotted Keegan and Liam, who in turn brought another buddy along – the lead pipe which had waylaid Quinton’s protégé last week. 

The ex-Asylum employee was still struggling on crutches and it seemed to take ages, an obvious advert for the card, to reach the ring prior to ascending the steps and standing on the apron opposite 006. 392. His request of a microphone was promptly provided as the observers voiced their disapproval of his presence: “Oh shut the fu...” 

Just as the Geordie Genius was about to drop the dreaded four-letter word live on television, Youth Of The Nation gave the faithful something to scream about with a spectacular Spear that knocked the stuffing out of Keegan and sent him to the concrete floor with a phenomenal thud. You could call it a warm welcome on behalf of All-Star Championship Wrestling. 

Speaking of stars, Carrahar was certainly seeing them and he would be introduced to even more momentarily as 006.392 went airborne and thrilled the full house with a mesmeric Moonsault! 

“HOLY SHIT” 
“HOLY SHIT” 
“HOLY SHIT” 
“HOLY SHIT” 
“HOLY SHIT” 

Quinton’s comrade kipped up and stepped back between the ropes to accept an excellent ovation from the fans by taking a bow while Liam attended to the so-called Yardstick who was clutching his midriff. At least it had taken his mind off the injured left limb. 

Liam tried in vain to strengthen relations between England and Ireland but was thwarted by the teenage risk-taker who warned him off and then barely rolled the Briton underneath the bottom rope with his mind already set on a major scalp to go on his C.V. 

Once again, 006.392 reverted to the ropes again to aid him in his offence and also continue in his quest to enthrall the audience with a fabulous Frog Splash that found its mark to say the least. Unsurprisingly, a cover followed and some people sensed a short and sweet victory for the precocious prodigy… 

ONE 
TWO 
THR… 

The relief on Liam’s face said it all. In fact, he resembled an Alias or Jason Kain fan following fifty-five minutes of action in their upcoming Iron Man Match. It was early days here and though The Height of Humanity hadn’t succumbed to an amazing array of breathtaking moves it still didn’t bode well for the Fighter that he now had a damaged spine and stomach to go along with the anguish that had been inflicted on his strongest foot. 

So far, it had been one hundred miles an hour all of the way and that paved the way for the combination of a break and an effective hold to slow proceedings down but keep the pressure on – a Figure Four Leglock sufficed. 

He winced as the teenager tightened the grip. The repeated replies of ‘FUCK OFF’ to the referee’s questioning insinuated that the Essence of Extreme was in a whole world of hurt. There was no way he could be seen as a quitter but by refusing to lose he had passed out and the official asked 006.392 to relinquish the hold, which he did. 

YOTN was elated and held his hands up awaiting confirmation that he had emerged with a triumph that softened the blow of losing to Damnson despite dominating just seven days ago. 

Everyone, especially the official, was taken aback when the Briton sat up straightaway and methodically marched over to his designated opposition before managing to usher in a clever Chop block that forced his younger adversary to fall to the floor like a Richard Branson balloon. 

Carrahar dragged the ‘upstart’ to a corner where he let rip with three nasty Knife Edge Chops and a series of rights to the ribs. Thereafter, he unleashed an incredible Irish Whip that turned him upside down and inside out, circa Shawn Michaels in his prime. As he came out of the corner, Keegan was waiting in the wings and drilled the QA affiliate with a Russian Legsweep. 

He might be a handicapped heavyweight at the moment and not be blessed with the pulsating pace of his counterpart but that didn’t stop the new recruit from going up top and delivering a fantastic Flying Elbow that happened to be straight out of the Heartbreak Kid’s repertoire. 

1. 
2… 

Two and only two. Notwithstanding, it was a (master?) stroke of fortune for the former Fighting Zone kingpin and now he was in command of a contest that he had almost embarrassingly surrendered with merely a minute on the clock. 

A Scoop Slam was next on the menu and Keegan, uncharacteristically, appeared to be heading back to the turnbuckle where he had enjoyed success to an extent with the well-executed Elbow. Would it pay off on this occasion? 

No. A horrible Headbutt attempt missed by a mile and as he tried to eradicate the blip he was found wanting when 006.392 turned the tide with a terrific Headscissors that lifted spirits in the camp and that was further reiterated as he beat the Briton to the punch with a couple of Armdrags, the latter leading to an Armbar and though the position was unlikely to extract a submission it did allow the youngster time to survey his surroundings and plot a strategy accordingly. 

Eventually, the English Exocet regained his vast vertical base and obtained a handful of his rival’s hair before pushing him back into a tight spot where the referee called a halt as they jockeyed for position. Another sly spot, a Clothesline on this occasion, went astray as 006.392 avoided it and then negotiated a Monkey flip that got him off the hook… for the time being. 

Trouble was brewing for YOTN as it clearly didn’t have the desired effect and Carrahar was waiting once again to pounce, which is what he did as soon as the teenager turned around with a lethal Lariat that landed the way he had intended. 

A collective chorus of ‘OH’ and ‘AH’ captured the earth-shuddering impact and the present aggressor opted to take a time-out to stick his head over the top rope and place his right hand over his ear and taunt the crowd by implying they weren’t making any noise now that he had his nose out in front. 

Only his Irish acquaintance commended Carrahar in his search of recognition but he couldn’t care less either way. He decided the best policy was to take it out on their favourite in this particular billing and he did by hauling 006.392 up and executing a neat one-two combination of a beautiful Backbreaker that was then supplemented by a Sidewalk Slam and Special K sought out the win… 

1 
2… 

He was a bit nearer that time and rather than become frustrated or argue with the official over the count he produced a wry smile. Maybe he was beginning to enjoy himself and shake off the grievance he was supposedly riddled with. 

His enjoyment would be terminated, possibly temporarily, as 006.392 gave him a genuine ‘shit-your-pants’ moment with a sweet Small Package that resulted in a two count until the Latin Luminary’s long legs came into play and freed him, 

This frustrated the debutant and a wild swing was swiftly side-stepped and promptly punished as the rookie delivered a delightful Dropkick that staggered Special K, a Roundhouse that nearly deprived him of his upright stance before a Bulldog finally did… 

1 
2 
3? 

Not quite. Yet, it was encouraging for 006.392 that a counter attack nearly nailed the California-based Brit and he was eager to press forward with his progress and a boot to the abdomen and a subsequent Spinning Heel Kick certainly didn’t do his chances any harm at all. 

Clearly, the defeat at the hands of Damnson hadn’t affected the fearless phenomenon too much and he was on a roll as he looked for an Irish Whip, which was reversed, but that didn’t matter too much when he caught Carrahar coming in with a brutal boot to the beak, which caused a cut, and hooked the Height of Humanity’s arms for a roll-up… 

ONE 
TWO 
THR… 

At the last moment, Keegan cruelly snatched what would have been a wonderful win away from the grasp of the QA quantity but the bystanders backed the promising prospect and egged him on to stick at it with shouts of ‘COME ON.’ 

006.392 obliged and pointed to the tried and trusted top turnbuckle, well for him, and the roar that succeeded his gesture certainly instilled the confidence to overcome his uncertainty and ‘go for it’ if you will. 

There may’ve been a few red faces behind the barricades as the lad, who anticipated his rival’s recovery to perfection and as he faced the Fighter-cum-Wrestler he indeed went for it… 

To discover that the Prince of Palermo had been playing possum as he took a sharp step back and capitalised on the juvenile’s misjudgment via tying him up with a Texas Cloverleaf to the chagrin of the masses. 

He urged the official to ‘ASK HIM’ several times while the general public began a slow clap that built up into a crescendo designed to hand the adolescent that extra ounce to escape what was undeniably excruciating circumstances. 

YOTN would not give in despite being asked time and time again if he wanted to call it a night by the main man in the middle and the perpetrator of the pain who told him just to ‘submit and enjoy puberty’ but that was probably the wrong remark to make on the Briton’s behalf as it only served to inspire 006.392 even more as he embarked on that everlasting journey to reach the elusive bottom rope that defined desperation and symbolized separation. 

Finally, as noise levels for this tie reached an all-time high, the audience was rewarded with their effort and encouragement when the plucky prodigy’s outstretched right arm was just about enough to get there though The Yardstick typically prolonged the agony by hanging on until the referee’s count of four before breaking to delay disqualification. 

Keegan turned away from the official, who was busy checking on his grounded foe to confirm he wanted to continue, and this allowed the English Exocet to ‘accidentally’ find a pair of Brass Knuckles that were stashed in his shorts and as he put them on his right hand and was poised to do damage, the thousands of spectators displayed their disgust with boos and jeers though it didn’t bother the born brawler at all. 

A sinister smile was etched on his face as 006.392 regained his balance but that trademark Cheshire Cat like grin disappeared when YOTN stepped away from the scene of the crime just as it was about to occur and performed a perfect Roundhouse Kick that knocked Keegan – and the official down – as the Height of Humanity’s head met the man in the middle’s mush with vicious velocity. 

Cue Liam and his lead pipe. It was questionable whether it was intentional or unintentional by the way that Carrahar conveniently connected with the authority figure en route to the canvas but that wasn’t important now. The primary priority was now for 006.392 to become aware of the Irishman’s presence inside the battlefield as he seemingly had Special K at his mercy with a Piledriver. 

Thankfully, the pleas to enlighten him worked a treat and he dropped his opponent to happily deck the British Army member with a super right hook and then seized the opportunity to exploit the official’s unfortunate unconsciousness and pick up the lead pipe. Not for the first time in this fight, the Hawaiians influenced his decision and an unbeknownst Keegan, upon stirring, was then hit for a home run, circa Sammy Sosa, with the same weapon that had sealed the dynamic QA associate’s fate against Damnson. The roles had been reversed and Carrahar was first-hand evidence that the motto ‘What goes around, comes around’ can in fact sometimes ring true. 

There was a slight problem in all of this and he was spread out on the canvas and not moving a muscle. And it was just the fan favourite’s luck that he happened to be on Dream Street when he should have had another mark in the W column. Hang on. He was slowly coming round and inching towards the centre of the squared circle to the delight of 006.392 and everyone else with the exception of Liam, who spotted what was happening as he picked himself up on the concrete floor, which is where he had been deposited, and found himself as powerless as the next person to prevent the precocious prodigy from prevailing… 

1 
2 
3? 

Well it would have been had Keegan not raised his left shoulder two inches off the canvas just as the referee was about to strike his hand down for the third time. Liam had his hands in his head, just like 006.392, though that was where the similarities ended. Unlike the Irishman, YOTN was cursing Carrahar from announcing he had intestinal fortitude via the fashion in which he wouldn’t just lay down and die despite being absolutely lynched with that lethal lead pipe. So much for justice eh? 

There was only one thing for it 006.392 though. He went for it without the others interfering even though they approved. After leaving the limitations of the Lion’s Den, the promising pubescent was about to take it to another level as he rearranged the furniture outside by removing the monitors on the announce table and dragging it away from the laps of the commentary team, forcing them to stand as they relayed the drama to those who purchased this monumental event. 

Liam, who had been on the opposite side of the squared circle, made the short journey to see what Youth of The Nation was doing but was warned not to interfere before 006.392 climbed back into the battleground if only to fetch the fallen Fighter and introduce him to what could prove to be a career-shortening spot right there in Honolulu. 

As they stood on the apron, he hesitated and enabled Keegan, who had been acting all along, to level him with a low blow just as lift-off was imminent and come up with a pendulum-swinger to put it mildly: “Liam, give me a hand.” 

Unfortunately, though they’d only known one another fir barely a week, the specimens were on the same and sickening page as Carrahar’s ‘assistant’ cushioned their adversary’s equilibrium as the Latin Luminary launched forth with a staggering Spike Powerbomb that broke not only the desk but 006.392’s spirit and spine too. 

“HOLY FUCK” 
“HOLY FUCK” 
“HOLY FUCK” 
“HOLY FUCK” 
“HOLY FUCK” 

It was a fitting cry under the conditions as Liam happily provided a helping hand to The Yardstick, who had aggravated his frail foot even more and seemed to be hindering him a lot every time he took a step forward even though he was leaning on Vincent Pembridge’s protégé. 

Liam’s next job was to roll the pair of them back in underneath the bottom rope though he handled the Height of Humanity, which was hardly shocking, with a tad more TLC so they could end what had been a see-saw war pitting an experienced individual in and away from sold-out stadiums against a tenacious tiger with age on his side and who was storing unlimited and untapped potential. 

The dazed ref slow to spot a draped arm across the chest of 006.932 but as soon as he did hearts began to race. Hopefully, somewhere deep down in his stomach, this terrific talent who, in spite of his incredible energy and athletic ability, was don’t forget still someone that could not legally consume alcohol or drive a car, had a bone in his body that could or would not let the Latin Luminary have his hand lifted aloft… 

ONE 
TWO 
THREE… 

Was it? 

Apparently not, according to 006.392, who had that special spark somewhere situated in the Ultimate Warrior’s hometown of Parts Unknown. The ‘number’ had frustrated the former two-time Fighting Zone titleholder to the extent that he now had his hands on his hips, whilst leaning on his knees, and his mouth wide open like Jordan’s legs. He resembled an international Cricketer who had just seen his convincing cry of LBW turned down. 

Nonetheless, while ninety nine percent of the people rejoiced at his remarkable resolve, 006.392 wasn’t off the hook just yet as the Geordie Genius made a judgment call of his own that involved Liam passing him those ‘fucking cunts over there,’ which to me and you meant the steel steps that were usually only used on the outside. 

However, they were tossed into the thick of it and the intrigue and pessimism that had transpired over the last thirty seconds was finally put to bed as the crocked Keegan broke the pain barrier and utilized 006. 392’s best friends, the ropes, to excellent effect with a tremendous Tornado DDT and if that wasn’t enough, the added effects of his head smashing the stairs surely had to do it… 

1 


2 


3 

And it was enough. Liam laughed as he re-entered the ring and told Carrahar that he ‘had done it.’ His enthusiasm didn’t quite rub off on the Briton who merely replied with: “Get me out of this fucking sewer,” and the Irishman obliged with his commands. 

Slowly, they departed and the crowd’s quite mood was changed when Keegan, who had his arms around Liam for support, clenched his fists in the air and shook them to remind them that their comments and chants were worth fuck all in the end and that he had overcame all of the abuse, which they obviously didn’t appreciate but by booing him even more he got exactly what he wanted and that was a reaction. 

Their loud ‘thumbs-down’ amused and excited him. It was like he had single-handedly earned three points away from home with a magnificent match-winner in the eighty-ninth minute. 

He was long gone before 006.392 had recuperated but when he did the loyal ACW faithful thanked him for his jaw-dropping desire and unquestionable commitment to the cause. On this occasion, his inexperience was apparent against a combatant who possessed killer instinct but there were far more positives to be taken from this tie than negatives. After all, the war with the British Army had not been lost and 006. 392 had lived to fight another day. 

On the basis of this performance, Youth Of The Nation would be not only a quintessential asset to Quinton May but to the future of this flailing flagship if it could only overcome its financial difficulties. 

Winner: Keegan

Confrontation

Welcome to hate, the picture on your television screen was a maniac, his stalking walk was echoing thru the whole backstage, people just looking beyond. 6'5, 295 .lbs you don't want to mess with this fucker, Elijah Toomes. Rock solid muscular and violent step to this your going down, without a doubt. Taken on many groups of people before, Elijah Toomes was welcomed to the ACW only last week while all of the ACW fans were tuned in for ACW-PPV, and your early one year anniversary present strode down the halls with a big smile on his face.

However, what was placed infront of him did he less than know was somebody else's prized possesion. Somebody's future, their only escape and their only entrance. Elijah looked down upon somebody's wrestling mask and picked it up as any normal human being would.

"HEY~!" squeaked a smaller figure who looked to be looking for this possesion.

"This yours?" Elijah's voice was cold and low.

"Yeah it's mine, you stole it faggot!" the figure was cut-out to be DARE, a brand new ACW performer.

"Hah, just take your mask buddy, you don't want to start shit you can't handle." Elijah let out before turning around.

Elijah felt a nudge hit his kidney area. DARE wanted to fight. The look in his eyes was hot and tempered as Elijah turned around he gave him a quick, cold glance. DARE swings a hard right but misses tall of Elijah's face. At this time Elijah pushed the small figure sending him flying. The obvious weight advantage of the big fella' threw DARE with momentum. DARE was outraged, stomping away, Elijah gave a quick humph. This was war, DARE would definitely get back at him before the night was out.

All-Star Championship Wrestling Tag Team Title Match
Kole Brothers vs. El Janitors

So, this entire mess commenced many months ago.

El Janitors were flying the flag of Quinton's Army, as the company's most promising duo. Imagine that, two janitors with their set of varying idiosyncrasies and quirks being the talk of the town. Seeing how Howard & Morris formed the only real team in the company at the time, the two Janitors took it upon themselves to embrace the nickname - 'unofficial ACW Tag Team Champions'. But within a matter of time, competition arrived.

The first signs of this development was the arrival of The Kole Brothers, at the Pain-or-Pleasure PPV. After the closure of the IOW in mid-April, Joey Kole and Andi Kole, still having that upbeat and positive outlook on life, scoured the country in hopes that another upstart organisation would take them in.

But, there was no luck.

So, Andi Kole decided to try a different approach. And as a particular Sunday night got more boring, Andi switched on the television and found that the All-Star Championship Wrestling had a group of people that were looking to expand their circle of warriors, for their own little mission.

Quinton's Army.

So, Andi & Joey decided to take their chances and met up with two of QA's spokespeople, Janitor Morris and Janitor Howard. At the Pain-or-Pleasure PPV back in early May, just as the two Janitors were gearing up to watch their leader -- Quinton May -- take part in the biggest match of his life, they came across the Kole Brothers. Joey & Andi somewhat conned Howard & Morris into having dinner to talk over some business, but of course, the main focal point of the meeting was for Andi to try and convince the two Janitors for referrals to ACW's management.

It worked. Their plan to get free dinners from QA's 'generals' worked, and several days later, Andi & Joey were officially signed to ACW contracts, that would last until the end of the year, with the option to extend. In addition, they had been welcomed into Quinton's Army with open arms, and immediately bonded with the men who made it possible.

But on the edition of Courage that followed the gigantic PoP extravaganza, Dictator Quinton had laid down the law. He felt that Andi & Joey didn't have what it took to be in his breakaway radical group. In QA, there was one major mission, and Quincy Mama thought that the Kole Brothers had to prove themselves first, before being truly worthy of fighting the good fight. Dejected, they left the arena, convinced that there was no hope for them in the ACW.

However, Joey Kole refused to accept that fact. And rallied his brother.

By some force of nature, they WERE going to prove themselves, and gain acceptance in the industry. Since there were no other prospects for them, the wrestling business was the only thing they could bank on for their survival. And if Quinton May wanted to see proof, he was going to get it.

On the same night, enemies of QA, The British Army, gave birth to their own team, by the name of .vindication; of course, that story is an entirely different can of worms. But, it did have a big part to play in the development of the Kole Brothers, and the eventual rise to stardom for El Janitors.

So, as May withered away into the sands of time without anymore ACW events, and June arrived, the scene of the team division in ACW had been altered dramatically. Liam, the first seed planted for .vindication, triumphed over El Janitors with the help of an unknown man who would soon be revealed as Drake Nefarian, the second seed planted for .vindication; the victory underlined TBA's plan to sweep across the federation, in the quest for power.

Later that night, the Kole Brothers would find themselves thrown in a match with Liam; they originally wanted to face Vincent Pembridge to showcase their abilities, but got the Scorpion's right-hand man instead. Naturally, Liam won, but El Janitors got some revenge following the battle.

Things began to look very interesting.

What followed in the weeks leading up to the Glory PPV in early July? Briefly, total chaos. Liam & Nefarian got themselves settled in rather quickly, and resorted to violent guerilla tactics, kidnapping the Kole Brothers once and causing mortal harm to Janitor Howard's family. El Janitors played it cool, using the sneaky approached. It didn't quite work out for them, as when Morris tried to rescue the Kole Brothers from their kidnapped state, he was attacked and left to die in a blaze of inferno. The Kole Brothers, dejected by being whooped around, took a neutral stand and vowed to do whatever it took to get the job done, including betraying .vindication once.

All this culminated in a massive war at the Glory PPV. And with the added incentive of the company's Tag Team Titles being put up for grabs, to finally give credit and attention to the team division.

In the end, following 60 minutes of mayhem on July 6 2003, the true underdogs triumphed and ascended to greatness as the promotion's first Tag Team Champions. El Janitors emerged from the holocaust as the victors, and were officially the pride and joy of Quinton's Army. Liam & Nefarian were punished for their inability to claim the titles by Vincent Pembridge, and were subjected to two months of grunt work.

The Kole Brothers? Began to wobble.

July & August were transitional months in the ACW, as the King Of Ages Tournament began to take shape. Janitor Morris started to shine in singles competition, while Howard was intent on resting on his laurels, with his old age beginning to catch up with his hectic life. Andi Kole took the defeat at Glory as a sign that he and his brother were closer towards reaching that level of greatness needed to be recognised in the industry, but Joey was tired of looking on the bright side of life. He felt that the Kole Brothers SHOULD have won at Glory.

Joey Kole began to transform. No longer was he goofy and moronic. He became subdued, rash, rebellious. And more importantly, he came to the conclusion that there was only one thing to do if he and his older brother were ever going to make it in the business. They had to join the enemy camp they once spurned.

The British Army.

This was a source of much conflict between Joey and Andi, as the latter swore that the brotherhood would be able to survive and flourish without crossing over to the dark side. But Joey was desperate to get into The British Army, and Vincent Pembridge wanted double... or nothing. He wanted both brothers in his renegade organisation.

And if Joey stood any chance of accomplishing that, he had to convince his brother, and firstly carry out a little experiment. The test subjects? Well, who else?

The champions themselves.

End of the history lesson. Onward with the fight.

--

"Clocks" by Coldplay began to play over the speakers, and half the crowd erupted into chaotic jeering, signaling that the challengers for the ACW Tag Team Titles were about to make their presence felt. And true enough, 15 seconds later, The Kole Brothers appeared from behind the curtains and slowly began their descend down the ramp, Andi acknowledging the other half of the crowd that were cheering, albeit rather mutedly. The young brotherhood team had quickly risen through the ranks in the industry, and were on the verge of the greatest night of their lives.

Joey -- brandishing that all-too-familiar cocky smile with a sleeveless dark blue tanktop, white wrestling shorts and black boots -- was counting on his brother to bring his A-game, and close the deal with The British Army. Victory tonight would not only win them the Tag Team Titles, it would also allow The Kole Brothers entry to the Manucian Predator's renegade group, which could possibly open more doors for the young duo.

Andi Kole, who was spotting a black sleeveless tanktop and the same white-coloured wrestling shorts with black boots, was still feeling a wee bit guilty about the way he'd won against Janitor Howard last week. But now, all he cared about was to claim the Tag Team Titles. It hadn't been easy seeing his brother's points, but the two men had finally reached a consensus, and the victory was the only thing to be shooting for. But in the back of his head, Andi's conscience kept reminding him that he was on the brink of joining the bad guys.

As they reached the bottom of the ramp and rolled inside, one could sense the conflict between the two brothers, together with a forced togetherness that Joey thought would propel the duo originally born in England towards ultimate glory; winning the Tag Team Titles and finally gaining the recognition they deserved.

Joey raised his right arm into the air as he stood in the middle of the ring, his smirk growing wider, in accordance with the intensity of the jeering magnifying as the seconds ticked by. Andi Kole quickly approached his brother after testing out the ropes and engaged in a brief conversation with him, before Joey nodded and patted on the back. As the Kole's theme song came to an end, Joey climbed out of the ring and took his position near one of the corners, indicating that brother Andi would start the match on the team's behalf.

The fans now waited, for the champions, who would be making their FIRST defense ever since winning the titles. It had been a long time, but the lack of competition and the hysteria over the KOA Tournament ensured that the two Janitors were relatively unchallenged since Glory. But that was about to soon, obviously.

Then, "Science" by System Of A Down.

The arena exploded into a cascading wave of unrelenting and unbelievable rapturous cheering, and within 12 seconds, Morris and Howard had bounced out onto the stage, each holding their respective title belt in their hands. Both had donned their old-school janitorial outfits, orange in colour, and both had determined smiles on their faces. Finally, a chance to prove that they had deserved the titles they won.

And also, to settle a score with the brothers that were disrespecting'.

Quickly making their way down the ramp, Howard & Morris slapped some hands on the way into the ring, both men having their own ideas as to how to punish the Kole Brothers. This was a rivalry that had stretched back to May, and one of the turning points in the relationship between the two tandems was when Howard & Morris showed no emotion and offered no help to try and get The Kole Brothers into QA, citing Quinton's laid-down law as the reason they couldn't do anything. Joey Kole remembered that day very vividly, and would use that piece of ammo to make his brother see the light.

Now, it seemed Andi was also up for this one, opposed to his stance a few weeks ago.

In the ring, Howard & Morris made the crowd even wilder by hoisting their titles high into the air, before they traded high-fives and had a last minute discussion. Andi had retreated into his corner and once again ran over strategy with his brother, before the sight of Howard leaving the ring to take up his position in the corner met his eyes. The referee confirmed with the FREAKING One over a few formalities, before he collected the Tag Team Titles, and passed it to the timekeeper.

Meanwhile, Morris and Andi had slowly strided towards each other, their eyes locked on the other now. They were chosen by their respective partners to kickstart this battle, in which only one team could emerge victorious with the titles, and the other banished to the ranks of mediocrity.

6'7", 270 lbs versus 6'1", 217 lbs.

Morris versus Andi.

With all the pre-match hoopla over, it began.

* DING DING DING *

Andi & Morris began to circle each other as heated anticipation swept through the crowd and gripped the very essence of their souls. The ring itself looked as if it was trembling, as the promise of a brilliant battle jolted to life when Morris got the ball rolling and strided towards Andi. The older Kole Brother ducked under the tie-up attempt and immediately dispatched a flurry of right hands to the Eastern European, not really caring about the height advantage. Morris was reeling, and was about to be welcomed into a world of hurt as Andi whipped him into the ropes, and scored with a drop toe hold takedown.

Following which, AK immediately slapped on an ankle lock! Morris quickly scrambled for the ropes and urgently grabbed the bottom rope, forcing the referee to call for the break-up. Andi did so swiftly, drawing a frustrated moan from Joey, who urged his brother to get right back on Janitor M. The latter used the ropes to help himself up, and advanced towards Andi again. This time, the tie-up materialised, and AK came out of that situation with the advantage, with a side headlock on the FREAKING One. But with his group of followers cheering him on, Morris quickly wrapped his hands around Andi's waist and aimed to connect with a release belly-to-back suplex.

Somehow, Andi Kole landed on his feet, and raced towards Janitor M... looking for a spinning heel kick. He missed as Morris ducked, however, and the big Eastern European connected with a massive clothesline, drawing a huge pop from the crowd. Joey stomped his foot on the canvas and shouted instructions at his brother, who was just tossed into the corner of the champions, before Morris strutted over and kicked Andi in the ribs, viciously.

Following which, the tag was made to Howard.

Janitor Howard -- 5'8", 200 lbs -- quickly steps into the ring as his partner gets out, and begins to unload on Andi Kole with a barrage of punches, the crowd going ballistic at the sight of Andi getting whooped. As the Dirty Old Man grabbed hold of AK's left arm and dragged him out of the corner, with the intention of whipping him into the opposite corner, Andi managed to hold on halfway and yanked Howard towards him, planting him with an excellent double-underhook overhead belly suplex! The audience applauded respectfully, funnily enough, and watched as the older Kole brother took Howard down with a standing dropkick as the two men returned to their vertical bases.

Then, the tag was made from Andi to Joey Kole.

J-Dawg -- 5'9", 210 lbs -- grinned as he finally got the chance to stamp his authority in the match, and displayed his eagerness by effortlessly hoisting himself onto the top of the turnbuckle, jumping off seconds later & connecting with a wonderful flying dropkick! The Senior Citizen once again collapsed to the canvas, as the crowd erupted in hateful jeers. Joey quickly picked himself up and pulled Howard up, firing away with forearm shots to his spine as Morris watched on. Joey noticed this and just as he got Howard in position, J-Dawg showed The FREAKING One the finger, then planting the Dirty Old Man with a fall-forward Russian leg sweep!

"JOEY SUCKS!"
"JOEY SUCKS!"
"JOEY SUCKS!"
"JOEY SUCKS!"

Joey smirked as he rolled Howard over and made the nonchalant cover;

ONE...

TWO...

EASY KICK-OUT!

Morris was just about to step into the ring and break the count up, but Howard easily powered out of the pin. Frowning, Joey Kole clenched his right fist and hammered it into Howard's head a few times, before getting to his feet and biding his time, waiting for Howard to do the same. Once Janitor H was 3/4 of his way up, Joey smiled and ran into the ropes, showing off by performing a capoiera-esque tactical move called Dupla. Upon landing on his feet, Joey backed up three inches and came charging off the ropes, before connecting with an utterly wicked flying headbutt to Howard's face! Janitor M's eyes widened in shock and he began to shout encouragement to his partner, while Andi clapped proudly.

Once again, Joey went for the pin, hooking the legs this time;

ONE...

TWO...

ANOTHER KICK-OUT!

Howard had to actually dig deep this time, and once assured that he hadn't pinned, the Dirty Old Man found his hair being pulled at, as Joey dragged him towards the corner of The Kole Brothers and made the third tag of the night, while kicking away at Howard. Andi climbed into the ring and waited until his brother got to the outside, before he carried on JK's methodical kicking. The referee tried to get Andi to take the fight out of the corner but the demands fell on deaf ears, until Andi pulled Howard up and planted him with a punishing hiptoss. The Senior Citizen yelped as he crashed down onto the canvas, and returning to his feet, he found Andi rushing at him, looking to score with a clothesline.

So, what did Howard do?

He ducked, waited for Andi to bounce off the ropes, and racked up one for the champions with a clothesline! The crowd cheered, glad that Howard finally turned the tables. Janitor H was a ball of fire now, pulling Andi up and ramming his fist into the older Kole brother, before kicking him in the gut and landing a quick swinging neckbreaker! Andi rolled about on the canvas for a bit, while Howard crawled to his corner and made the needed tag to Morris.

The FREAKING One was in the ring.

"FREAK YOU, FREAKING ANDI!"

And he was hell-bent on whooping some ass, evidently.

Andi Kole stumbled to his feet and found himself back down within an instant, as the lanky Eastern European speared the heck out of him. As the mounted punches began to rain down on Andi's face, the match disintegrated into expected chaos, as Joey Kole threw himself into the ring and dropped a double axe-handle smash down onto Janitor M's spine. The assault of Andi had ceased, and Joey took the initiative to jump to his feet... as he raced towards the corner of the champions and knocked Howard off the apron with a running elbow smash, despite the referee's protesting. J-Dawg was going to use this opportunity to give himself and his brother the advantage that would eventually lead to victory.

Meanwhile, Morris and Andi helped themselves up, their bodies aching. AK made the first move, running at Morris and attempting to connect with a simple clothesline. The Eastern European ducked and grabbed Andi by the throat as the latter turned around, sending the crowd into a state of frantic frenzy. However, that was pretty much shortlived as Andi kicked Morris in the lower abdominals, following up with an utterly wicked and vile double-arm DDT! The impact of which almost squashed Janitor M's head, and saw him roll out of the ring and tumble onto the ground. Rising to his feet, Andi heaved and wiped the sweat off his head, before he slid to the outside and began to stalk Morris, who was crawling up the ramp in an attempt to catch his breath.

Joey Kole, in the meantime, had dropped down to the floor and kicked away viciously at Howard, as the fans had a sudden flashback to what happened at the Glory PPV, when Joey sent Janitor H freefalling off the stage and eventually through a table in the technical area. Slobbering all over, J-Dawg continued to send hard kicks into the upper-body of Howard despite the referee's protesting... before the younger Kole brother pulled the Dirty Old Man up and smashed his face into the Announce Table. Much to the chagrin of the fans, naturally.

"JOEY SUCKS!"
"JOEY SUCKS!"
"JOEY SUCKS!"
"JOEY SUCKS!"

Joey simply shrugged his shoulders and chuckled at the referee, who was continuing his admonishing. Feeling lucky, J-Dawg climbed onto the apron and looked down at Howard, waiting for him to turn around and walk towards him. The Senior Citizen seemingly had eyes in the back of his head, however, as he quietly took his own sweet time amidst the massive buzz of anticipation from the crowd. And when he finally turned around, Howard wasn't surprised to find Joey Kole leaping off the apron and onto his shoulders.

HURRICANRANA TIME~!

Well, not quite. See, Howard's wealth of experience in life taught him a few things; always be prepared. Holding on to Joey Kole, Janitor H took a few steps forward, the crowd roaring with excitement... and Joey screaming for somebody to save him. He knew what was going to happen next. The evil grin on Howard's face said it all.

*KA-PLUNK*

"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"

A POWERBOMB ONTO THE STEEL STEPS, AS JOEY'S HEAD BOUNCED OFF THE STEEL LIKE A BASKETBALL!

The audience were on their feet and going nuts. A truly heinous counter to the hurricanrana from Howard, making use of the fact that there were on the outside and that there was a weapon as dangerous as the steel steps to use! Joey Kole now laid on the ground, completely unconscious, as the referee attended to him. Howard fell to his knees and breathed heavily, he himself not believing the move he'd just pulled off. All the bones in his body suddenly felt weak, not because he was disgusted by what was transpired; on the contrary, he was itching for revenge ever since the Glory PPV, and got it in the most sensational style.

On the other side, Andi had caught up with Morris on the ramp and kicked away at his lower spinal area for the last minute or so. Tired of the routine he'd gotten himself into, Andi pulled Morris up and fired several stinging hooks to The FREAKING One's face, before pulling out a snap suplex completely out of nowhere! Janitor M's body made full and unprotected contact with the steel of the ramp, right about the same time that Howard almost impaled Joey Kole with the powerbomb onto the steel steps. Andi hadn't seen the move, nor was he really bothering about how Joey was squaring off against Howard. The older Kole brother, the one decisively pinned by Morris at the Glory PPV to enable El Janitors to win, was looking for some revenge of his own.

Rolling Morris into the ring, Andi confused the fans by suddenly grabbing the Janitor's legs, almost as if he wanted to pull Morris right out again. Instead, AK dragged his opponent to the corner turnbuckle and wrapped his legs around the steel ringpost, before taking a short breather on the outside. Morris tried to squirm out of the predicament he was in and crawl towards the middle of the ring, where Andi couldn't get him. But, the older Kole brother was not about to let something like that happen.

Why?

Well, very simple. Andi wanted to set the record straight.

So?

He slapped on a very unique submission move, that shocked the fans and had the announcers marking out like crazy lesbians on a roadtrip. A figure 4 leglock, with the added twist of using the ringpost as a supplement for pain and to also further hyperextend Janitor M's legs. In short, a move that many claimed Bret 'The Hitman' Hart perfected years ago; A RINGPOST FIGURE-4 LEGLOCK!

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

The FREAKING One's screams could be heard all over the arena. Even the toilet cleaners, who was currently making out with his mop in one of the cubicles in the ladies toilet, could hear Janitor M's agonized screaming. Andi Kole was grinning and guffawing sadistically, as he tightened the hold. The referee had rushed over upon hearing Morris scream, and now begin to administer a 5-count.

But, there wouldn't be a need for one.

*CRACK*

Janitor Howard had gotten control of a chair and realising how lenient the referee was being, cracked the chair into the face of Andi Kole, who was hanging upside down due to the nature of the move he'd slapped on! Suffice to say, the chairshot forced AK to release the hold and he collapsed down to the ground, as Morris slid back towards the middle of the ring and tended to his possibly-broken legs. Howard, meanwhile, kicked at Andi's face and cursed at the dark-skinned Kole brother, before picking him up and tossing him back into the ring.

Finally, the legal men in the match had returned to the squared circle and the referee breathed a sigh of relief, watching as Howard trodded back to his corner and Joey Kole made the long crawl back towards the corner of the challengers. As the referee himself took his place in the ring, he was immediately called into action, with Morris making the half-hearted cover on Andi;

ONE...

TWO...

THR...

NOT A CHANCE!

Morris shook his head as the referee confirmed to the crowd that it wasn't a 3-count, and the FREAKING One wisely crawled to his corner, making the tag to partner Janitor Howard, who was looking for a flashy re-entry to the ring. So, the Dirty Old Man of QA hoisted himself onto the top of the turnbuckle and instantly took flight, scoring with a snazzy-looking flying legdrop, sending the crowd into another round of appreciative cheering!

And then, Howard hooked the legs, as Joey watched on from the outside;

ONE...

TWO...

THR...

NO WAY!

Andi Kole kicked out again, just as Joey pulled himself onto the ring apron. J-Dawg realised that his brother was almost pinned, and he was powerless to do anything about it. Shouting out encouragement, Joey watched as Howard pulled Andi up and connected with a series of Mongolian overhand chops. AK's yelped loudly with each strike, before he was whipped into the ropes. Upon returning, Andi found that the Senior Citizen had lowered his body... most definitely, to attempt a back body-drop. The older Kole brother had it all mapped out, however, stopping in his tracks expertly and sending a vicious kick into Howard's face!

Janitor H's staggered backwards into the ropes, and as he stumbled back towards Andi, AK slapped on a single-arm front-face chinlock. Howard was wise to what was in Andi's mind, considering that the two men had dueled just last week, and an elbow shot to the back of the head broke up the move. Andi dropped to his knees and held the back of his head, wincing, as the energy in his tank began to dwindle. Howard didn't quite care, though; he waited for AK to regain his footing, before the Dirty Old Man shot himself into the ropes and came off them with the hopes of landing a high-leg clothesline.

But, Andi had caught Janitor H in mid-air, and promptly retaliated with a brilliant backbreaker! Morris screamed in objection from the outside, joining in the distaste for the move generated by the crowd. In contrast, Joey Kole punched the air in delight, and continued with the supporting, as both Andi & Howard laid on the canvas, absolutely spent. Eventually, within a matter of seconds, both men had gotten back up... and it was the Senior Citizen who made the first move, swinging a wild arm at Andi. AK, however, ducked and again slapped on the single-arm front-face chinlock, before he raised Howard in the air and...

AK-47!! ANDI'S VERSION OF THE URANGE SLAM! INSTANT COVER;

ONE...

TWO...

THREE...

MORRIS MAKES THE SAVE AT THE VERY LAST SECOND!

Andi was none too happy about the interference, as Morris jawed at him while the referee got the lanky Janitor back to his corner. Scowling, Andi got up and pulled Howard up along with him, before sending him into the corner of the challengers with a single discus punch. However, the older Kole brother decided to further provoke the edgy Morris, and spat at him! The FREAKING One's eyes almost popped out of their sockets as he charged into the ring, but the referee came in between. The fans jeered wildly as that was the cue for Joey Kole to come in and join his brother in a age-old team tradition; double-teaming the poor sucker in the corner with wild kicks to the chest.

After much protesting from Morris, the referee finally turned around and saw the melee, immediately rushing over to break it up. But by then, the damage was done, and several thousands fan began to jeer the referee. Andi sniggered as he pulled Howard up and kicked him in the gut, following with a classy-looking snap-mare takedown. Morris hollered out vulgarities again, just as Andi tagged his brother in, who'd just stepped outside as per the referee's demands. Now smiling, J-Dawg hoisted himself to the top of the turnbuckle, displaying cat-like agility in the process. The fans stood to their feet, anticipating something special from Joey. And even though Howard was smack-dab in the middle of the ring, JK didn't disappoint.

He went airborne.

And landed his trademark 720º splash.

"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"

JOEY WENT GLORY HUNTING, BABY! THE IMMEDIATE COVER;

ONE...

TWO...

THRE...

JANITOR MORRIS MAKES YET ANOTHER INTERVENTION!

The crowd again breathed a sigh of relief and continued the cheering for El Janitors, which they hoped would rouse Howard out of his slump sometime soon. Joey scowled as he contemplated taking The FREAKING One's head off, but by then, Morris had retreated back to his corner before the referee could even admonish him. Joey pulled Howard up and laughed at the Senior Citizen, pummeling him with a barrage of vile punches to the face. As JK tried to whip Howard into the ropes, however, the latter reversed it and lowered his head as J-Dawg came off. Joey had the situation well-scouted, unfortunately enough for Morris & Howard, and he scored big time with a swinging neckbreaker!

"JOEY SUCKS!"
"JOEY SUCKS!"
"JOEY SUCKS!"
"JOEY SUCKS!"

Getting back up, Joey smirked at the crowd that hated him so, pulling up Howard and whipping him into one of the four corners at the same time. Andi clapped his hands and belted out instructions to his brother, while Morris aimed to rally the fans to get behind Howard. Not bothered at all by the crowd's restlessness, J-Dawg strutted over to the corner and kicked Howard in the chest, before he grabbed the Dirty Old Man by the waist and lifted him onto the top of the turnbuckle, gloating afterwards. As he hopped onto the second rope and aimed to slap on a front facelock, though, Howard stunned him and everyone else with a swift kick to the gonads... followed up with an exquisite tornado DDT! Sure, it looked a wee bit sloppy, but it got the funken job done!

And, somehow, Howard mustered up enough strength to desperately crawl to his corner, to tag Morris in. Shocking Andi even more, as he realised that he and his brother were in trouble.

Big trouble.

The giant known as Janitor Morris -- real name withheld because the organisation formerly known as the KGB could reform at any second and kill you if you knew -- quickly lumbered into the ring and knocked down the recovering Joey Kole with a wicked clothesline, before doing the same to big brother Andi, who'd rushed into the ring to try and help JK out. Morris was a house of fire now, as he alternated between both brothers, knocking them senseless with clotheslines. Finally, with the crowd absolutely frenzied and ecstatic, The FREAKING One grounded Joey Kole with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker, before Andi ducked another clothesline attempt and clocked the Eastern European with an jumping sidekick to his chest! Staggering into the ropes, Morris bounced off them and back into Andi's path, who'd been waiting for his brother Joey to recover.

And once J-Dawg did, he found The FREAKING One being sent his way, courtesy of an Irish whip. Joey did the most sensible thing and pedaled backwards, before lowering his head and sending Morris spilling out of the ring with a back body-drop. Trouble was, Joey found himself tagging along for that right, as Janitor M thought he'd feel lonely hitting the ground all by his lonesome. You've heard the rumours of him being... well, gay; now, you know.

.... Right.

Meanwhile, as AK dropped to his knees and caught his breath amidst the incessant jeering, he noticed that Janitor Howard scaling to the top of the turnbuckle corner he was resting on the outside of, probably looking to take out Joey and help his Eastern European partner out. Instinctively, just as Howard got to the top and began to prepare himself for an audacious jump, Andi sprung to his feet and dashed to the corner, joining the Senior Citizen at the top. With Howard all but ready to take off, AK quickly rammed his forearm into Howard's spine, as on the outside, Morris mounted Joey and began punching away at him.

Every spectator got to their feet and got their cameras ready.

Andi locked in a pump-handle and went through the motions, getting Howard on his shoulder. Before readjusting slightly, and jumping off the top.

Scoring with a fall-forward piledriver.

*CRASH*

"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"

A pump-handle into a flying fall-forward piledriver, from the top of the turnbuckle.

JANITOR HOWARD WAS DEAD.

On the outside, the brawling continued, as Joey drove his knee into Janitor M's ground and began to blatantly choked him. The ring continued to shake, and the crowd's chants finally started to die down as the referee, shocked beyond belief, stood over the broken bodies of Andi Kole and Janitor Howard... waiting for some movement. And finally, there was movement; from Andi, not surprisingly. Howard was still motionless but the move had basically drained Andi.

But he still managed to crawl over. And make the cover, albeit half-heartedly, although neither were the legal men;

ONE...

TWO...

THREEEEEEEE!!

THERE YOU HAVE IT! NEW CHAMPIONS! NEW CHAMPIONS! NEW CHAMPIONS! THE KOLE BROTHERS HAD DONE IT! THEY WON THE MATCH!

THEY HAD DEFEATED THEIR ENEMIES AND WON THE TITLES!

THE KOLE BROTHERS WERE THE NEW ACW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS, AFTER A GRUELING BATTLE AND MONTHS OF STRUGGLE!

REJOICE, MOTHERFUCKERS! REJOICE!

Oh, wait. Howard got his left foot on the bottom rope. False alarm.

....

Sorry, my bad.

Andi was close to tears, as he got to his feet and scratched his head, not quite believing that Janitor Howard managed to find enough strength to even lift his foot. Pulling the Senior Citizen up, Andi punched away at him, before Howard retaliated with a simple gouge of the eyes, and old-school forearm slug. On the outside, Morris had just reversed an Irish whip by Joey, sending him flying into the steel steps onto which he was powerbombed earlier, and noticed what had happened in the ring, with the pin and all. Thus, Morris crept over to the timekeeper's table and grabbed his title belt, waiting for a chance.

If it didn't materialise, Joey getting his head bashed in with the title would have to suffice.

Unfortunately for Andi, tasting Howard's forearm sent him stumbling back, into the ropes. And so, Morris seized the opportunity that was presented to him on a silver platter, slamming the title belt into the spine of the older Kole brother, sending him back towards Janitor H worse for wear. At the same time, Joey Kole had reached under the ring and produced a lead pipe, which he duly used to crack over the head of the Eastern European!

In the ring, The Dirty Old Man absolutely murdered Andi Kole with a textbook overhead belly-to-belly suplex, leaving the fans celebrating wildly! With all his might, Howard crawled over to Andi's body and with the prospect of winning the match in his grasp, he made the lateral press, just as Joey Kole climbed onto the ring apron;

ONE...

TWO...

THREE...

NO! A SPECTACULAR SAVE FROM JOEY KOLE, WHICH KEPT THE CHALLENGE ALIVE!

Joey Kole had thrown himself onto the top rope and leapt off, executing an amazing cross-ring flying legdrop, landing on the lower spinal area of Janitor Howard's! Andi, relieved, dragged himself into one of the corners to try and catch his breath, while Joey pulled the Senior Citizen to his feet and instantly connected with a fall-forward facebuster! The crowd groaned yet again, but that all changed when the sight of Morris getting back to his feet and quickly climbing to the top of the turnbuckle greeted the eyes of everyone in the arena.

Even Joey, who was just about to roll over and hook the legs for the pin.

Change of plans, bucko.

J-Dawg rose to his feet and sprinted to the corner, easily reaching the top in a single bound before Morris could balance himself. Two swift knife-edge chops and a bionic elbow to his face firmly stopped Morris in his tracks, before the young Joey balanced himself AND the Eastern European on the top rope.

Once again, a wave of anticipation gripped the crowd.

*CRASH*

And they weren't disappointed.

"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"

JOEY KOLE PULLED OFF HIS PATENTED J-TODA-K MOVE [double-underhook jumping facebuster, for you uneducated lot] FROM THE TOP! UNBELIEVABLE! MORRIS WAS MORE DEAD THAN A DODO!

"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"

Joey himself was writhing around in pain, but he had the sense of urgency to roll over and make the cover;

ONE...

TWO...

THREEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

NOOOO!!!!!!! HOWARD MADE THE SAVE! HOWARD MADE THE SAVE! HOWARD MADE THE SAVE!

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

The referee himself had been enthralled by the match so far, and had just only promised to throw out the rulebook. He didn't want to care about who were the legal men anymore, he wanted to let the match continue as it was. Slowly enough, all four combatants rose to their respective vertical heights, each one drained and exhausted. Andi was the first to react, charging at Howard with a clothesline. The Dirty Old Man ducked and taunted Andi to come at him again, with the older Kole brother did. Wrong move, as Howard pedaled back and tossed Andi out of the ring with a back body-drop.

Meanwhile, Joey -- distraught that he hadn't gotten the victory on account of the stupendous move he'd dished out -- punched away at the dazed Morris, before a swift kick to the gut and a snap DDT ensued. Amazingly enough, Janitor M struggled back to his feet within an instant, although he was extremely groggy. Frustrated, Joey shot himself into the ropes and aimed to score with a flying knee-smash, but it seems Morris was just playing possum. He leaned forward and almost beheaded Joey with a clothesline, before slapping on a side waistlock as Joey recovered.

A nanosecond later, just as Howard tossed Andi out of the ring, the Senior Citizen appeared on the other side of Joey. Together, El Janitors lifted Joey in the air and...

DOUBLE SPINNING BACK SUPLEX! ALSO CALLED 'FLUSHING OUT THE CRAP'!! MORRIS MADE THE INSTANT COVER;

ONE...

TWO...

THREEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!

....

FOR REAL!!!!!!!

* DING DING DING *

The crowd exploded and the atmosphere was deafening. Finally, it had been settled. El Janitors had successfully defended their titles, and remained champions following a gritty and sensational challenge from the Kole Brothers! On the outside, Andi shook his head and cursed, while Morris and Howard embraced, delirious from the joy.

Joey remained knocked out.

His dream had been cut short. There was yet no fairytale ending for him. Maybe it had to do with Andi not having completely crossed over to the dark side? Whatever it was, the Kole Brothers had just been shoved down to the lowest rung of the ladder, having to start from scratch. And how about our victors?

Well, El Janitors were STILL the Tag Team Champions of the ACW. Deservedly.

You better believe it, folks.

Winner: El Janitors

Doing It For The Man, Pt. 3

El Emenopi looked at the name tag on the door. Jason Kain. Every time he’s walked into Kain before, he had been angry at El for the stupid things he did a few months back. El frowned because he knew that Kain was inside. He was about to knock as the door flew open. Kain looked at him for a moment, and El turned to run away… but Kain grabbed his shoulder.

“Six more lockerrooms to go… no?” Kain smirked. A lot calmer since the last time El talked to him.

“Si senor… but I can wait until you leave.”

“You won’t want to miss my match, boy.” Kain smiled, and led El into the room. It was immaculate. No trash. No dirt. Nothing. El smiled. Kain looked at him. “I owe you an apology, Elian. You didn’t deserve the shit I put you through for the past couple of weeks.”

“No problemo, mang. I’m used to being a punching bag. I actually should apologize and thank you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were going to throw that match against me so I could get into the fed weren’t you?”

Kain looked to the ground. Months ago, El had lost his only shot at getting into the fed, putting Kain’s shot against Osyrus on the line so he could get a job. Kain fought Osyrus… and El lost the match… by accident, keeping his record of zero wins. Kain smirked… he was going to throw the match.

“Thank you for giving me my first loss in ACW, Mr. Kain… I hope that we can be friends again one day.” El smiled and turned back toward the door. Five locker rooms to go.

Triple Header Match
All-Star Championship Wrestling Television & Scorpion Title Match
Quinton May vs. Vincent Pembridge

The first of this kind of match in the ACW was showcased months ago. Quinton May and 108192, now no longer in the promotion, had been waging war with each other for the longest time. It escalated to brutal heights, and as per Quinton's request, who wanted to prove that he really could fight AND wrestle, the first Triple Header Match was born.

Best two out of three, each fall being fought under special rules.

At the Pain-or-Pleasure PPV, after both men went to Hell and back, Quinton May emerged victorious. It came down to who was more willing to sacrifice pain for pleasure and joy. Fitting enough, some would say. The triumph made sure of the fact that Quinton May was recognised as a definite commodity in the ACW, and although he spent the majority of the following weeks resting from the exertions of that match, Quinton returned in fine style at the Glory PPV, claiming the vacant Television Championship in a Battle Royal.

Some would say that was just one of the factors that led to the massive showdown that was stealing a few headlines, seeing how the King Of Ages PPV had two distinct purposes. Firstly, to crown a winner in ACW's first official non-title tournament, and the winner would thereby receive a shot at the World Title. And secondly, speaking of which, the NEW World Champion would finally be decided; Alias & Jason Kain had dueled each other for the past several weeks... and finally, it was time to settle the score, once for all.

But you get the feeling that Quinton May & Vincent Pembridge, although not really meaning to, want to hog the limelight. After all, both men have been at war ever since the Scorpion came to the ACW, way back in late March. Why did he come? Not many people know, and not many people really care anymore. The British Degenerate has been a whirlwind of trouble ever since his re-emergence in the industry, one that was completely unprecedented. But with thReat's revival, and the nature of its closure in 2002, you would be a fool to not realise that Vincent was simply cashing in on unpaid debts.

And in the process, expanding his sphere of influence.

Since coming to the ACW, Vincent Pembridge has quickly built up a reputation for being one of the most callous and dangerous men in ACW history. Not to mention unbeatable; only one defeat in 5 months, and that too in a Triple Threat Match where the theme of the night was interferences. Along the way, Vincent has made sure to add his own brand to the company, forcing the Scorpion Title to become a part of the promotion's operation. In the Manucian's words, he was bringing back the roots of pure fighting to the industry corrupted by fancy and un-needed artistry.

But the bulk of this battle between the two enemies was waged by the respective armies; Quinton's Army, and The British Army. Over the past months, both camps have seen a change in personnel but as of late, TBA have looked the stronger of the two camps, revealing that they'd managed to successfully a Trojan Horse to Quinton's Army, and with the possibility of adding more warriors to the cause in the form of The Kole Brothers. QA, meanwhile, have been reduced to the bones, since the death of Bobby Knickerson in late July.

A death caused by Vincent Pembridge.

A death that have finally brought law enforcement officials into the picture.

And a death that has awakened the monster inside Quinton May.

So much more could be said about the history between the two men, as far as ACW is concerned. So much more could be said about the history between the two in general, if you factor in the actions of each respective Army, and the scuffles in thReat around April/May of this year. But the main talking point is that the both men have a shared history outside of the company. Many years ago, when Vincent Pembridge was still a young lad scorned by the love of his life, he retreated to the America. Exiled by his own country, the British Degenerate started his journey down the wrong road mainly due to a stroke of luck, that saw him win a piece of tin that was useless to him at the time. But really, it had a major influence on the way he would be shaped in the years to follow, and is now known as the ACW Scorpion Title. One of the men Vinnie trounced was Quinton.

Nobody knows how or why Quinton was involved. But Quincy himself knows that there's more to that than meets the eye, and the only person who knows more is Vincent himself.

He isn't telling, however. It has no bearing on proceedings whatsoever.

Fact of the matter is, Quinton & his Army are standing in the way of Vincent Pembridge and his unknown yet lethal plans. Vice versa, actually; there was a reason that QA was formed, and the Big-Hearted Canadian feels Vincent's need for expansionism is disallowing the progression of the mission.

Hence, we have this battle.

First fall, finisher rules -- whereby a competitor must execute his opponent's trademark move to win. Second fall, submission rules -- tap out, scream 'I QUIT', or simply pass the fuck out. Third fall, if the need for it does arise, standing 20-count rules -- the absolute knockout. Simple as that.

At stake?

BOTH the Television & Scorpion Titles. As well as pride and bragging rights.

Ladies and gentlemen...

Apocalypse, nowish.

--

The house lights in the arena darkened as the video package came to a bonechilling end. The anticipation for this battle had been harbouring on the highest levels for days on end, and finally, fans of the ACW were getting a chance to see an official battle between Quinton May & Vincent Pembridge. Two men who've made meteoric rises to the top rung of the ladder, although not quite there.

And with a hellacious match expected, everybody were on the edge of their seats. They couldn't wait for this battle to start. Hell, they couldn't wait for the dust to be settled, and witness a winner to this truly titanic clash. For far too long, both men have been using their own groups to fight the war. Now, with the complexion of the battleground having been changed following Bobby Knickerson's death and Damnson's defection, both men have agreed to settle it with their own pair of fists.

Of course, Vincent has his own agenda. Quincy cost him a shot at becoming the eventual King Of Ages tournament winner, which was the first defeat the Manucian Predator was subjected to in the ACW. And with Quinton becoming increasingly adamant about standing his ground and fighting until the end, Vincent decided it was time to call an end to the games. Time to get on with the final part of the war.

TIME.

Darkness fell. Hysterial screaming ensued. A barrage of jeers began to form, as a cloud of hate grew and descended down on the ring. A blue spotlight focused on the raised platform that was the stage, and within seconds, the man that everybody loved to hate appeared.

Blue jeans, black boots, Scorpion Title around his waist, sadistic smile on his face.

The one and only...

Vincent Pembridge.

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?

The crowd grew more restless and loathsome, as they began to hiss at Vincent. Deep inside, the Scorpion sniggered at the pitiful peons that were tons of abuse at him. He was loving the attention, and thrived on the negative reaction he got every single week. He was now immune to their response, because all it really did was to simply spur him on. And so, the smirk on his face widened, as he sauntered down the ramp towards the battleground.

Completely and absolutely prepared.

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?

Halfway down the ramp, Vincent's sneer was laced with confidence and the knowledge that he was THE most hated man in the ACW. The continuous jeering by the crowd attested to that fact greatly, especially when the Degenerate reached the bottom of the ramp and smugly tossed his title into the ring, sliding in after it. One could almost smell the excitement inherent in the Manucian Predator. Surely, the fight he was about to be involved in would be one of the greatest in his life.

But he was prepared.

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.

Having remained rooted in the middle of the ring with his eyes closed for the past couple of seconds, Vinnie's eyes suddenly opened and he looked out at the masses that were dedicating every second of their mundane lives to hating The Manucian Predator. And sniggering, he raised his right arm up in the air, to further provoke them. He loved every second of this.

The perfect aphordisiac to get him into the mood.

Minds.

The lights came back on, banishing the blue spotlight, and the full force of the crowd's disdain for the lifeform that stood in the ring could be heard. Even in Hawaii, Vincent Pembridge had managed to force normal people into hating him. It was almost as if the man couldn't go anyway without turning innocent people into vessels of hate. Picking up his Scorpion Title, the smirk on Pembridge's face disappeared, now turning his mind towards the man that would prove to pose the biggest challenge to the Arrogant Bastard this year.

The Dictator of QA.

The Big Hearted Canadian.

The Television Champion of the ACW.

A charismatic and resilient motherfucker, committed to fighting until there was no more fight left in him.

A man who's led a life many can't even begin to imagine.

Q U I N T O N  M A Y.

Cue "Date Rape" by Sublime.

Quinton May quickly appeared from behind the curtains and stormed out to the stage, his eyes immediately locking on Vincent Pembridge, who returned the hateful glare. The crowd's cheers were off the page now, as everyone stood to their feet and chanted wholeheartedly for the man they hoped put finally put an end to the evil ways of the Arrogant Bastard. Wearing a red sleeveless tanktop with black jeans and black boots, Quinton remained rooted at the stage... as he raised his Television Title in the air.

The look in the eyes scary enough to raise the dead.

Let me tell you about a girl I know.
Had a drink about an hour ago.
Sitting in a corner by herself, in a bar in downtown Hell.
She heard a noise and she looked through the door.
And saw a man she'd never seen before.
Light skin, light blue eyes, a double-chin and a plastic smile.
Well, her eyebrow raised as he walked through the door..
And took an empty seat next to her at the bar.
"My brand new car is parked right outside. How'd ya like to go for a ride?"
And she said, "Wait a minute. I have to think."
He said, "That's fine. May I please buy you a drink?"
One drink turned into 3 or 4 and they left and got into his car...
And they drove away someplace real far.

In the ring, Vincent continued to pace around agitatedly, waiting for his nemesis to get down to the ring to get the titanic clash underway. But Quincy remained on the stage, the TV Title still being held up for the world to see as his theme song continued to rage on.

"Now babe, the time has come...
How'd ya like to have a little fun?"
And she said, " If we could only please be on our way, I will not run." 

Finally, Quinton threw the title onto his right shoulder and began advancing down the ramp, feeling that he'd done quite enough to agitate Vincent in the ring, who'd started cracking his knuckles in frustration. Patience, not being one of his good points.

That's when things got out of control.
She didn't want to, he had his way.
She said, "LET'S GO!"
He said, "NO WAY!"
"Come on babe, it's your lucky day...
Shut your mouth, we're gonna do it my way!
Come on baby, don't be afraid...
If it wasn't for date rape, I'd never get laid."

The roars of approval from the crowd continued to increase with every step down the steel ramp Quinton May took, and he was definitely loving the reception from his fans. Like Vincent, he thrived on popular opinion, and the Canadian knew that the way the match would unfold was entirely in his hands. He had the advantage of being involved in something this hellacious before, although he also knew that his opponent was someone who'd fought many gruesome battles in his time.

Having reached the bottom of the ramp, Quinton's scowl finally turned into a smile, as he slowly lifted himself up onto the ring apron, blinking at the Scorpion that stood in the ring. Waiting, for the opportunity to pounce and unleash his lethal venom. Which would, undeniably, spell the end of the Dictator of QA.

He finished up, and he started the car
He turned around and drove back to the bar.
He said, "Now baby, don't be sad; in my opinion, you weren't half-bad!"
She picked up a rock, threw it at the car, hit him in the head; now he's got a big scar.
Come on party people, won't you listen to me?!
Date Rape Stylieeee!

The next day, she went to her drawer, looked up her local attorney at law...
Went to the phone and filed the police report, and then she took the guy's ass to court.
Well, the day he stood in front of the judge, he screamed, "She lies! That little slut!"
The judge knew that he was full of shit and he gave him 25 years...
And now his heart is filled with tears.

That night in jail, it was getting late.
He was butt-raped by a large inmate, and he screamed...
But the guards paid no attention to his cries.

Stepping into the ring, Quinton noticed Vincent stepping forward, towards him. But surprisingly, the Callous Fighting Machine stopped in his tracks and backed off, allowing Quincy his space. The crowd found it strange as well, but in Pembridge's mind, an occasion such as that didn't warrant for ungentlemanly-like behaviour. At least, not before the bell.

That's when things got out of control.
The moral of the date rape story; it does not pay to be drunk and horny.
But that's the way it had to be.
They locked him up and threw away the key.
Well, I can't take pity on men of his kind...
Even though he now takes it in the behind.

Snorting, Quinton took his TV Title off his shoulder and proceeded towards one of the four corners of the ring. Stepping onto the second rope, the former M15 inmate/fighter raised the title and his other arm in the air, acknowledging the sea of humanity that were cheering wildly for him. In his seven months in the ACW, Quinton had taken part in four PPVs, and had been victorious in three of them.

That's the way it had to be.
They locked him up and threw away the key.
Well, I can't take pity on men of his kind...
Even though he now takes it in the behind.

DATE RAPE!

Getting down from the second rope, Quinton turned to walk towards Vincent Pembridge, who had given the referee his Scorpion Title. May also tossed his title towards the match official, who must have been cursing himself for being assigned this definite bloodbath. The two enemies now stood nose-to-nose, however possible that was considering that Quincy was 5'9" and Vincent was 6'4". But neither men cared, with only five inches seperating the two.

The night would be the greatest night of their lives, win or lose.

The night would be the most magical night of their lives, as far as the victor was concerned.

She didn't want to...
She didn't want to...
She didn't want to...
She didn't want to...

TAKE IT!

The night would be the most disastorous night of their lives, as far as the loser was concerned.

It was basically EVERYTHING or NOTHING, as Quincy's theme song finally ended. The referee held up both titles in the air, sending the crowd into another frenzied wave of maniacal cheering, before he walked over to the ropes and passed the titles to the timekeeper. The suspense was eating away at each and every member of the audience. All they wanted, and all the two men that stood in the middle of the ring wanted was for the damn thing to commence. Quincy & Vinnie had been eagerly pining for the match for an entire week.

* DING DING DING *

And finally, it had arrived!

Personify: Quinton
It's time, motherfucker. It's time.

Personify: Vincent
Alright, cunt. You wanted this so badly. I'ma give you HELL.

Within seconds, both men began to slug away at each other like rabid dogs, putting everything behind their punches! Neither man was backing down, too, as they continued to pummel away for all it was worth! Quinton, Vincent, Quinton, Vincent, Quinton, Vincent... uh oh, Vincent finally got the upper hand, blocking one of Quincy's punches. The Scorpion now began to unload his most hard-hitting missiles on poor Quincy, striking six in a row without a response. But as Pembridge went for a seventh, May managed to get a block in and quickly turned the tables! Now it was the Television Champion who was firing away as if he was powered by an Energiser battery! Six, seven, eight... Vincent was reeling, as groggy as a drunk bastard.

Grinning, Quinton shot himself into the ropes, coming off at full steam and with the intention of scoring a clothesline. However, the Scorpion of Manchester jerked himself out of the stupor and sent his right knee crashing into Quinton's abdominals, forcing the latter to double over in pain and cough wildly. Already sweating, Vincent quickly bounced himself off the ropes, still quite unsure of what he was going to do when he approached Quinton.

Turned out, he didn't have to do anything. Quinton surprised him with a stupendous belly-to-belly suplex, sending Vincent flying halfway across the ring! The crowd erupted, and went even more ballistic when Quincy scored with a hiptoss as Pembridge got to his feet and charged angrilly at his nemesis. Again, Vincent's pride forced him to get right up and again run at the TV Champion, resulting in yet another powerful hiptoss. Considering that Quincy was outweight by a good 60 pounds, it certainly was surprising to see the Scorpion Champion being thrown around like a doll. However, when Vincent got lured into a THIRD hiptoss, the Manucian Predator managed to land on his feet, and swung his right arm at May in retaliation. The Dictator ducked, slapped on a waistlock from behind, and...

RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX! SUPERB!

"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"

Struggling to his feet, Vincent was in a state of shock, as he tumbled into one of the corners. Which was perfect for Quinton, who wasn't really caring about the crowd's appreciative cheering. He'd blocked them out the second the bell was rung, and the only thing on his mind was destroying Pembridge. Rushing to the corner, the Big-Hearted Canadian began to fire away with sidekicks to Vincent's gut, causing the latter to wince with every blow. After about ten kicks, Quincy spat at the Scorpion, and sent him across the ring via an irish whip, into the other corner! The force of the whip was tremendous, and as the Degenerate stumbled out of there holding his spine, Quinton revved up the engine and charged ahead.

A clothesline was what Quincy had expected, but instead, Pembridge ducked... countering with an utterly wicked falling neckbreaker! Quinton collapsed to the canvas and rolled around in agony for a bit, which allowed Vincent to catch his breath. The Scorpion's eyes were now gleaming with malevolent intentions, as he pulled the TV Champ up and introduced his fist to Quincy's face. Five times. Following which, the self-proclaimed God Of Fight whipped May into the ropes... and upon the latter's returned, Vincent picked him up and held him over his own, ala a gorilla press! The crowd jeered, before watching their hero being dropped face-first onto Vincent's right knee! A completely vile move, but the Arrogant Bastard thought nothing of it and laughed.

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

Getting up, Vincent swaggered around for a while, sniggering at the fans that were deploying with the all-too-familiar chant. However, noticing that Quinton was already on his knees, trying to fight his way up, Pembridge rushed over and hooked both of Quincy's arms! Now, be reminded, folks; the first fall of this mammoth match was being fought another Finisher Rules, where one had to execute his opponent's finisher. Also be reminded that Quinton's finisher, in technical terms, is a double underhook pulling piledriver. With that out of the way, there was no wonder then, that Vincent was grinning like a giddy schoolgirl.

But, Quincy wasn't about to cave in so easily and quickly. He stood his ground and made it hard for Vincent to try and lift him. And as Pembridge growled, deciding to fire overhand forearm shots to Quincy's spine to weaken the Television Champion, the latter struck with a back body-drop, using the untapped strength in his legs to good use! However, Vincent remarkably landed on his feet. What was even more remarkable was Quincy sensing that his nemesis would land on his feet, and May sent himself towards the ropes. Pembridge grinned as Quinton returned, and the Manucian swung his arm wildly for a clothesline. Quinton ducked, though, and used his momentum to carry himself into the parrallel set of ropes. Surprised and perplexed, the Arrogant Bastard turned around.

JUST IN TIME TO FEEL THE FULL EFFECT OF QUINCY'S HIGH-LEG CLOTHESLINE!

"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"

Quinton rolled to his feet and again spat at Vincent Pembridge, who was rolling the canvas, not quite able to comprehend how his opponent kept surprising him with the simplest of moves that seemed to hurt quite a bit. May wasn't done, however. Rushing over to the corner, the Television Champion hopped onto the top, displaying agility like a cat on crack. In the meantime, Vincent rolled to his side and slowly got to his knees, holding the back of his head. One eye on his right fist that had just clenched up. The other eye on Quinton May, perched at the top of the turnbuckle, his hands clasped together. Obviously, he was aiming for a flying axe-handle smash. Possibly to the back of Vinnie's head.

So, May took flight. And Vincent rose to his feet, crashing his rock-hard fist into Quinton's chest a couple of nanoseconds before the axe-handle smash could connect. By that time, Vincent didn't even get to feel the effects of the axe-handle smash, for Quincy dropped to his knees, once again coughing like a chain-smoker in his 80s. The Scorpion of Manchester wasn't gonna led his enemy get away so easily, however. He pulled May up, crossed his left leg over the Canadian's right, and scored with a very snazzy-looking fall-forward russian leg-sweep!

Naturally, the fans detested it.

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

Getting back up, Vincent jawed off to the cunts in the front rows, before he grabbed Quinton by the hair and effortessly tossed him out of the ring, like the Television Champion only weighed a ton. The match, which had been fought at breakneck pace thus far, was finally slowing down, as Pembridge took his own sweet time to stride over to the ropes, sliding out of the ring once Quinton crawled over to the announce table and leaned face-first against it. Now, if you twats remembered, this fall -- due to Vincent's finisher involving a weapon -- wasn't being held back by any rules concering foreign objects and such. So, it was only fair of the Callous Fighting Machine to pull out a trash can lid from under the ring, aye?

And it was equally fair of the grinning psycho to turn around and slam the lid down on Quinton's head, crushing it between the announce table and the lid, aye?

*CRACK*

Absolutely.

Once again, the jeering commenced, having reached new heights. Quinton slumped down to the concrete again, as Vincent tossed the lid into the crowd and started to kick away at his enemy's head. The referee watched, knowing that there wasn't anything he could do at all. He was only there -- for this fall, at least -- to ensure that neither men killed each other, with the price of the PPV being rather exorbitant. Vincent knew that this fall was somewhat to his advantage, as it allowed him the freedom of maiming Quincy until no end. And even though he was no longer the wrestler he once was, Pembridge had no worries about having to pull off some lame pulling piledriver to advance in the match.

Picking Quinton up, Vincent delivered a stinging headbutt to Quinton, sending the latter staggering backwards, a cut visible on his forehead. Pembridge didn't look as if he quite cared, however, grabbing May by his flailing right hand and whipping him towards the steel ringpost! Quinton crashed into it face-first, and stumbled backwards again, into Vincent's open arms. The Scorpion chuckled, quite happy that he had slowed down the pace of the match to suit his needs, and once Quincy was close enough... Vincent slapped on a full-nelson, raised May off the ground, and dropped the Television Champion onto the ground with massive full-nelson sitdown slam!

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

Rising up like a phoenix from the ashes of time, it was Pembridge's turn to spit at his nemesis, who was writhing on the ground, the pain searing through every crevice of his body. The Plague From Manchester looked out at the crowd that hated him so and gave them a finger, before hoisting himself onto the ring apron and making his way to one of the corner turnbuckles. The announcers themselves were startled to see Vincent climbing to the top of the turnbuckle. The Scorpion Champion wasn't famous for his dazzling aerial attacks, but there were a lot of things people didn't know about him. Anyways, there he was, at the top. Quinton was trying to claw his way up, but his bones never felt heavier.

So, this gave Vinnie P the perfect chance to line himself up, and take flight with a flying knee-drop being the intended attack. However, Quinton May had managed to reach under the ring and produced a lead pipe, which he duly used to smash into the Vincent's face as he jumped up and turned around! Pembridge's head jerked backwards as blood immediately begun to flow from his broken nose, and he tumbled backwards! The crowd roared at the sight of blood, and once again began to cheer on their hero, the Television Champion. Quinton tossed the lead pipe away, and set his eyes on the timekeeper's chair. Keep in mind that Vincent's finisher, ladies and gents, is a running sidekick into a chair, which would then be directed into the opponent's face.

With the crowd's cheers growing increasingly wild, Quinton forced the timekeeper off his chair and picked it up, folding the piece of steel up and limping back towards Vincent, who'd conveniently rested his head against the steel ringpost, while tending to his broken nose. Grinning, Quinton envisioned the next few seconds in head, truly believing that the window for grabbing the lead in the match had appeared. And after taking a deep intake of breath, the Big-Hearted Canadian went ahead with the Scorpion Bite. He tossed the chair at Vincent, who caught it as expected... before May charged forwards, getting ready to strike with the running sidekick.

....

....

....

NO!! Vincent jumped to his left, holding on to the chair, while Quinton's right foot made tremendous impact with the ringpost. Wincing slightly at having hyperextended his leg, Quincy spun around, wanting to just carry on with the fight and possibly lash out at Pembridge with his fists. But Vincent had the distinct advantage of having the steel-chair in his hand, which he used to excellent effect. Excellent, if you're one of the very few Scorpion fans.

*CRACK*

A HEINOUS CHAIRSHOT TO QUINTON MAY, SQUASHING HIS HEAD BETWEEN THE CHAIR AND THE RINGPOST!

"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"

Quincy Mama fell down to the ground face-first, the cut on his forehead upgraded to a deep gash, while two fresh cuts formed underneath his right eye, quickly swelling and blackening the area. Vincent twirled the chair in his hands and looked over his shoulder, smirking at those who had begun to toss their garbage at him. Popcorn, cups, programme sheets; you would expect Hawaiians to be more environemtally intelligent. But I digress. Looking down at his fallen foe, Vincent chuckled and sent several vicious kicks to the lower spine area, before the former tFZ Gang Champion lifted the chair over his head...

*CRACK*

"VINCENT SUCKS~!"

*CRACK*

"VINCENT SUCKS~!"

*CRACK*

"VINCENT SUCKS~!"

*CRACK*

"VINCENT SUCKS~!"

*CRACK*

"VINCENT SUCKS~!"

And delivered five mammoth chairshots to the back of Quinton May's head, totally paralysing the Television Champion! With his eyes sparkling in delight, Vincent threw the dented chair into the ring, before grabbing Quincy Mama by his hair and pulling him up. The Dictator of QA was as limp as a fish fresh out of water. It was a sickening and difficult sight to behold for the pro-Quinton crowd, but it wasn't as if Vincent Pembridge gave a damn. He sent his knee crashing, again to the lower spinal area, before rolling his nemesis into the ring.

Following which, Vincent climbed onto the ring apron, and yet again scaled to the top of the turnbuckle. He'd already been up there, the exact same one, once... and failed to deliver. This time, however, there was no possible way Quinton May could counter with any weapon. The chair was a good two arm length's away from him, and even then, he was laying face-down on the canvas, which was slowly being stained by blood. At the top, Vincent raised his arms in the air, antagonising the crowd once again -- which was, most obviously, his forte. Assured that he'd covered all bases this time, Vincent sucked his gut in, and took flight, looking as if he was about to score with a flying elbow drop.

*CRASH*

....

Word.

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

Somehow, despite his entire body aching like it'd never ached before, Quinton May dug down deep and proved why exactly he was called the Big-Hearted Canadian. No matter what the guy had endured, his resilience wouldn't allow him to quit, and rolling out of harm's way demonstrated that fact perfectly. Vincent was left cursing as he rolled around, clutching his right elbow in obvious pain.

Slowly but surely, both warriors clawed back to their feet. Tired, hungry, but well aware that there was still a LOOOONG way to go before this match could even BEGIN to END... Vincent Pembridge & Quinton May both wiped the mixture of sweat & blood off their faces, before mapping out new strategies. Considering Quinton's placement in the ring, it didn't take long for him to figure out just what he wanted to do. He rolled towards the steel chair that Vincent had thrown inside, and sprung him while grabbing hold of it. By that time, Vincent had completely shaken off the grogginess, and turned around to find that the chair was being hurled at him.

Naturally, Vincent caught it, but he wasn't stupid. He ducked underneath the running sidekick, being a complete killjoy to the crowd that had suddenly erupted in ecstatic cheers, before turning around and waiting for Quinton to do the same. As the Dictator spun around, he found Vincent waiting like the predator that he was... before having to catch the chair that was aimed for his head. This time, it was Quinton's turn to escape the Scorpion Bite, before he turned around and raised the chair over his head...

*CRACK*

And cracking it over Pembridge's head! The crowd erupted, but Vincent was still on his feet, although his legs were wobbling. Surprised, Quinton tossed the chair down onto the canvas, kicked the Degenerate in the gut and shoved him in between his legs, before raising his arms in the air. Once again, the fans went delirious with joy, as they watched Quinton underhook both the arms, before...

"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"

THE HIDEAWAY ONTO THE STEEL CHAIR! AMAZING!

"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"

Sure, it wasn't special by any stretch of imagination, considering the rules of the first fall. What was, however, was Vincent immediately beginning to crawl back up, using the ropes to help him to do so. Quinton's eyes widened in shock, but the next second, they danced with anticipation. He got back up and once again, gained control of the chair... which was totally out of shape by now. But to Quinton, who'd been keeping a close watch on Pembridge, it was still pretty usable.

Wanna see? Alright, then.

Toss of the chair to Vincent, who'd turned around and caught it.

The little run-up, followed by the extension of the right leg, the foot being aimed at the chair.

....

....

And undeniable contact, sending the chair flying backwards into Vincent's face.

Two words;

SCORPION BITE~~!~!

"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"

Vincent Pembridge collapsed to the mat along with the chair, and Quinton May dropped to his knees, admist deafening celebrations! The first fall had been attained, and he had to gain one more fall if the Television Champion wanted to walk out of Hawaii as the ultimate winner. But it didn't matter. It didn't matter at all, because Quincy now knew that he had all the neccessary tools to win the damn thing.

No longer was he afraid and insecure.

Now, the animal in Quinton May had been truly awakened.

FIRST FALL: QUINTON MAY

Getting back to his feet, Quinton swayed from right to left, rather drunk from the joy of having pulled ahead in this match. Now, the second fall completely favoured him, since he was more of a wrestler than Vincent was. Of course, Vincent did start out as a wrestler and not as a fighting machine hellbent on world domination, or something close to it. As he opened his eyes and peeled himself off the canvas, the self-proclaimed God Of Fight came to the realisation that this fall wouldn't allow for the usage of weapons.

Putting him at an disadvantage.

A SEVERE disadvantage.

On his feet, Vincent faced the crowd, who were taunting him with their middle-fingers. So much so that the groggy Degenerate staggered backwards unknowingly, into Quinton's path, who was grinning sadistically. Now was his turn to really shine. At the PoP extravaganza, Quincy Mama showcased just how versatile a competitor he was, acheiving the goal of proving how well he could _actually_ wrestle. So, as Vincent edged closer and closer to him, Quinton slapped on a sleeper hold, causing a riot in the stands! If Vinnie tapped out, the match would be over! The Arrogant Bastard would have been defeated, and May would become the new Scorpion Champion! However, after a bit of flailing around like a duck with soap in his eyes, Pembridge reached back with his hands and got out of the sticky situation with falling front-face neckbreaker!

Once again, both men were laid out on the mat, and the fans were left muted. But within seconds, both enemies were scratchin' and kickin' their way back up, aware that this match wasn't over by a long shot. Sucking his gut in, Quinton leaned forward and went for the kill, in the shape of a spinning backheel kick. Pembridge wisely ducked and waited May to make the full 360º turn, before wrapping his hand around the TV Champ's throat, and drilling him with a brilliant spinning chokeslam! The wind seemed to be knocked outta Quinton, who rolled into a fetal position, his eyes clamped shut and his teeth grinding against each other... trying to block out the pain.

The mini-celebration, by way of arrogant strutting, from Vincent Pembridge drew loud jeers of disapproval from the audience, but it allowed Quincy Mama to pull himself up, to try and regain his focus. The Scorpion noticed this and cut short his own celebration, and with Quinton his knees, placed his right hand on the shoulder of the Canadian, contemplating his next move as he continued to jaw at the fans.

What a mistake.

May used this perfect opportunity throw his most hated enemy over his shoulder with a monkey-flip type move, resembling something out of a judo playbook. Vincent landed neck first, rolling forward and eventually landing on his feet before turning around to see his charging adversary once more. This time, the Manucian Predator was not able to do anything at all to save himself, as Quinton May caught him with a ferocious clothesline, effectively turning the tables on Vince once again.

The Plague From Manchester fell down to the mat, clutching at his throat, desperately trying to breathe as the Dictator of QA picked him up by the back of his neck. Quinton threw him face first against the turnbuckle, and began to smash his face into it, repeatedly. Vincent grunted in pain with each shot, before Quincy drove a knee into the lower spinal area of Pembridge and continued with the face-pounding. It almost looked like Quinton was going to trying to behead the Scorpion Champion to use his head as a replacement for a bowling bowl, until The Arrogant Bastard reached back and caught the Canadian with a wicked mule kick to the groin. Quinton backed off, naturally before falling to the mat in pain amidst tremendous jeers. Vincent grinned as he hobbled over and grabbed May up, to a kneeling position.

Before locking in a rear chinlock. Vincent was going for the victory here, and also hoped to bring out the wrestling side in him, since that's what was required of him. Obviously, he was confident of securing the fall via this method, seeing how he'd just done harm to the Quinton May treasury, and he was one cocky arsehole. But surprisingly enough, the Television Champion kept his fists clenched, as a sign that he was still very much in this match. Slowly enough, he rose to his feet, and Vincent growled. He didn't expect Quinton to be recovering so quickly.

And within seconds, Quinton was sending reverse elbow shots into the gut of Pembridge, who continued to keep a tight hold in the submission move. Gritting his teeth, determined to slip out of the hold, May adjusted his weight and finally sent a wicked elbow shot into Pembridge's face! Pembridge was stunned, and seconds later, got pummelled with another elbow shot! His grip on Quincy was slowly slipping... before the third and decisive shot arrived! The Scorpion's grip on Quincy was slipping, and the crowd roared as the Big-Hearted Canadian turned around, his eyes full of fire. His fists started to fly again, cracking the Manuacian Predator's jaw with a vengeance. After about six punches, May kicked him in the gut, showed him the middle finger, and scored with a double-arm DDT!

"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"

Quinton got right back up and pulled Vincent up as well, sending a barrage of knee-smashes into the Manucian's gut. However, as Quincy tried to whip Pembridge into the corner, the latter hang on and yanked his smaller adversary towards him, sending him flying courtesy of an overhead belly-to-belly suplex! The crowd was stunned, and dismayed that Vincent Pembridge had once again managed to turn the tables. May sprung him to his feet and groggily charged at Vincent, who once again displayed tremendous dexterity by pulling off a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker from his bag of tricks. As garbage once again found its way into the ring, Pembridge forcefully brought Quinton up to his feet and scored with two quick boxing-esque underhand jabs in succession. Following up with a stiff kick to the Canadian's abdominals, and thrusting him in between his legs, before hooking both of May's arms.

Eh? What was this, then?

See, Vincent lifted Quinton up and over, before letting him slide down a little. And what we had was a crucifix. OH! Vincent was about to knock the Television Champion out with a double-underhook running crucifix powerbomb, maybe? Well, it looked that way, until Quinton squirmed out of it halfway through. Pembridge was slightly taken aback and frustrated, as expected. Turning around, he found the tenacious Canadian coming at him with a roundhouse kick. The Callous Fighting Machine ducked and rolled to safety, before swivelling around and waiting for Quinton to turn. Once the latter did, the self-proclaimed God Of Fight struck, masterfully executing a tripod spinning sweep kick!!

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

Shaking his head, mainly to get rid of the exhaustion that was slowly creeping into his system, Vincent dragged Quinton up and again lashed out with a headbutt, before whipping Quinton towards the corner. The irish whip had a lot of force behind it, but somehow, Quincy had managed to recover from the wicked tripod spinning sweep kick, as demonstrated by NOT crashing into the turnbuckle face-first, and instead hopping onto the top of said turnbuckle. Growling purely out of anger, Vincent rushed in, hoping to catch May. But, spectacularly enough, as Pembridge neared the corner, Quinton pulled off a surreal somersault, landing on his feet directly behind the Scorpion Champion. Spinning around, Vincent had to deal with Quincy hopping onto his shoulders and executing a hurricaranna.

Or at least trying to.

Huzzah?

Well, duh! Vincent countered, with a sitout powerbomb that had the ring trembling from the impact! And as if that wasn't bad enough for the pro-Quinton supporters, The Arrogant Bastard got right up and slapped on an Indian deathlock. That's right, Pembridge had Quinton May in a deadly submission move, and had it cinched in pretty tightly! Quinton's screams could be heard all over the arena. Screw that, those screams could be heard all over the freakin' island. And Vincent? Well, he was laughing as sadistically as he could. Turned out that the bastard DID know how to wrestle and DID know of a few submission moves, eh?

You twats were the ones that underestimated him. HA~!

.... Right, out of the point. Gotcha.

So, Vincent had Quinton in an Indian deathlock, and didn't look as if he was going to release it. Not even if a nuclear holocaust threatened, and the only way he would be saved if he released the hold. Quinton May continued to scream and groan, as he began to crawl towards the ropes. The only thing that could save him now was a rope-break, but as soon as he moved four inches, Vincent leaned back and dragged Quinton back to the original position. Which, to the Television Champion, looked a mile away from the ropes.

"LET'S GO, QUINTON!"
*CLAP-CLAP CLAP-CLAP-CLAP*</b>

"LET'S GO, QUINTON!"
*CLAP-CLAP CLAP-CLAP-CLAP*</b>

"LET'S GO, QUINTON!"
*CLAP-CLAP CLAP-CLAP-CLAP*</b>

"LET'S GO, QUINTON!"
*CLAP-CLAP CLAP-CLAP-CLAP*</b>

Feeling weak, Quinton once again attempted to crawl towards safety, but Pembridge had the hold locked in pretty tightly. And in his disoriented state, the Dictator wasn't making much progressed. Finally, as more sweat continued to roll down his forehead and into his eyes, May realised that he'd have to carry out a massive overturning of sorts if he stood any chance of surviving this fall. So, once again using the untapped strength in his legs and an additional tool in the form of his arms stretching back as far as they could, Quinton May managed the impossible.

He reversed the hold, and quickly tightened the grip he now had on Vincent's legs.

That's right. You blinked. It happened. You snooze, you lose. Quinton May now had the Indian deathlock cinched in, and Vincent Pembridge growled out instantly, blinding pain paralysing every single nerve in his body. The Television Champion knew that the Scorpion was pretty close to the ropes, and dragged himself AND Vincent towards the middle of the ring, where the Manucian Predator now got the chance to experience just how it felt to be so far away from the one thing that would ensure safety under the rules of the fall. The all-important rope-break.

"LET'S GO, QUINTON!"
*CLAP-CLAP CLAP-CLAP-CLAP*

"LET'S GO, QUINTON!"
*CLAP-CLAP CLAP-CLAP-CLAP*

"LET'S GO, QUINTON!"
*CLAP-CLAP CLAP-CLAP-CLAP*

"LET'S GO, QUINTON!"
*CLAP-CLAP CLAP-CLAP-CLAP*

The crowd were at fever pitch now, anticipating Vincent to tap out at any second. Which, of course, would mean that Quinton would be victorious, and Pembridge's reign of terror would come to a dramatic end. But amazingly enough, the Scorpion used his superior size advantage to somewhat combat Quincy's hold, dragging himself towards the ropes. Try as he could, May couldn't quite hold on, but was giving it everything he had. The seconds ticked by, and the referee stood over the bodies of the two gladiators, ready to call it if Vincent tapped. But, that was the last thing in Pembridge's mind. There was no way in hell he was going to tap. Especially since he was practically inches away from the ropes.

But, that was as far as he was going to go. The pain was too immense. It'd effectively paralysed him for good. Vincent Pembridge was stranded, and with only five inches seperating his outstretched right hand from the bottom rope. Quinton breathed a sigh of relief and tightened the hold, leaning back to exert more pressure on Vincent's legs. In actuality, that suddenly gave the Degenerate and idea and he pulled his legs backwards, surprising May. That momentary lapse in concentration brought a glimmer of hope to Vincent's cognitive framework, and he thrusted his legs forwards, keeping his fingers crossed.

Quinton lurched forwards and ended up sprawling to the canvas, being ripped out of the submission move! The crowd groaned and moaned collectively. Vincent Pembridge had somehow gotten himself out of the deadly submission hold, and limped back up to his feet, the feeling returning to his limbs. The Dictator of QA himself had pulled himself up with some help from the ropes and glanced over his shoulder, breathing heavily. He had Vincent in the jaws of defeat, but somehow, his enemy managed to slip away like the slippery snake that he was.

Charging at the Scorpion Champion with an almighty roar, Quinton aimed to decapitate Vincent with a clothesline, but a desperate Pembridge was forced into yet another tactically brilliant move, taking down Quincy Mama with an armbar, before going one step further and... LOCKING IN A CROSSFACE SUBMISSION! IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING! AGAIN, VINCENT HAD SURPRISED EVERYONE AND HAD QUINTON MAY IN AN ACTUAL SUBMISSION MOVE!

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

Vincent laughed, as he leaned back, putting more venom into the move. Quinton May wasn't stupid. He was in a world of pain, and the threshold had been broken. If he gave up, it would simply mean that the match would go to the third fall. Which actually suited the Scorpion Champion, but it was a risk May had to take. Rather than passing out and basically gifting Vincent two falls in quick succession, a difficult decision had to be made.

So, Quinton tapped.

*TAP*
*TAP*
*TAP*

And Vincent relinquished the hold, retreating towards one of the four corners of the ring to catch his breath.

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

Now, the race was on.

SECOND FALL: VINCENT PEMBRIDGE

The derogatory jeering had died down, and the crowd were silenced. Somehow, Vincent Pembridge had triumphed in a fall that massively favoured his opponent, Quinton May. The first fall was even stevens, really. But the second one; many had predicted Quincy to win the battle of submissions. But, the Scorpion of Manchester had travelled back in time, to his roots. And won. Now, the two gladiators that lay a broken mess inside a ring had a whole new dimension of hurting to look forward to. Something quite extraordinary.

If you thought Scorpion Fight Rules were something... if you thought Last Man Standing Rules were something...

How does an unsanctioned standing 20-count?

Personify: Vincent
<i>Come on, cunt. We've come this far. Get the feck up, rest time is over. We're going to finish this.

Once and for all.</i>

Personify: Quinton
<i>Okay, Vincent. If it's going to come down to this, then let's do it. If one of us has to practically embrace death for the other to win...

Let's do it.</i>

Both men rose to their feet. Absolutely drained. Devoid of any fear now. They were standing on the doorstep to hell, and neither man was about to back down. Turning around, Vincent & Quincy stared at each other, suddenly grinning. The fans picked up on the activity in the ring, and began -- for what seemed like the million and sixth time on the night -- to roar their hearts out.

This was it.

The final stretch. One man would win, the other would lose.

As simple as that.

Roaring like wild animals who need to get laid quickly, both men charge at each other, each with their own agendas. Quinton, being the quicker of the two, obviously had a chance to deploy his attack first... but his clothesline was well evaded by Vincent Pembridge, who quickly turned around and knocked May senseless with a sweeping roundhouse kick! Quinton stumbled backwards, towards the ropes, and Vincent followed up with a stunning clothesline that sent May tumbling out of the ring, over the ropes.

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

Grinning, Vincent watched as the twisted and mangled body of Quincy Mama lay on the concrete. Figuring that it'd take something special to put the Television Champion down for a 20-count, Pembridge decided to put all his eggs in one basket, and hurled himself onto the top rope, balancing himself expertly. Then, he went one step further, twisting as he jumped down from the top rope onto the ring apron, and with his back now facing the announce table, as opposed to facing it face-first seconds earlier, Pembridge took flight with an picture-perfect moonsault!

*CRASH*

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

Of course, there was a tiny blemish to that picture, what with Quinton rolling out of the way and all.

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

Finally managing to help himself up, Quinton leaned against the announce table, prompting the referee to make the count;

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

Nope, not going to be that easy.

Vincent had been motionless since crashing down to the concrete, but once the count had begun to be administered, he reached out for the apron with his left hand, and pulled himself up, his nose being broken once again. But with his back facing Quinton May, and his mind in a bit of a mess, Pembridge had no idea what the Television Champion was up to. Neither did anyone else in the arena, except for Quincy himself and the announcers... who watched as May ripped one of the television monitors out of the built-in sockets in the announce table, and...

*CRASH*

SMASHED THE MONITOR INTO THE BACK OF VINCENT'S HEAD!

"QUINCY ROCKS!"
"QUINCY ROCKS!"
"QUINCY ROCKS!"
"QUINCY ROCKS!"
"QUINCY ROCKS!"
"QUINCY ROCKS!"

Once again, Vincent Pembridge had collapsed in a heap to the concrete, and the referee got the count started again;

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

Right. That would have done it. Pffftt. You twats.

Quinton tossed the monitor away and grabbed Pembridge by the back of his neck, leading him towards the steel steps. Completely hazy on his exact whereabouts, the Scorpion of Manchester was easy pickings for Quinton, who slammed the bald-headed British mofo down onto the steps, before sending a flurry of ferocious right jabs down onto the back of Vinnie's head, which was badly cut open by then. The crowd supported their hero every step of the way, even when he stopped for a breather, and kicked at Vincent's left knee wildly, before he jumped onto the steps.

Then, everybody in the arena went silent. They had a feeling what Quincy was going to do next. And sure, they hated Vincent Pembridge, but it seemed almost inhuman, what the Television Champion was going to do. Quinton didn't quite bother, however, as he tugged at the waistband of Pembridge's jeans and pulled him up onto the steel steps, immediately kicking him to force the Scorpion Champion to double over in pain. And with a sick grin on his face, Quinton May wasted no more time. He was going to put all his hopes behind this one move.

He shoved Vincent's head in between his legs, and hooked both the arms...

....

....

....

You caught on yet? No?

....

....

....

*KA-PLUNKKKKKK*

HIDEAWAY.

ONTO.

THE.

STEEL.

STEPS.

"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"

Vincent's head bounced off the steel like a tennis ball would bounce off the clay court, and the Scorpion's body tumbled down to the concrete, as blood flowed and began to cover his entire face. Quinton May looked down at the man he'd just quite possibly *killed* and smugly grinned, as his knees began to wobble from the extreme exhaustion. The referee, sickened, had only one course of action.

Yup, the count;

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

12.

13.

14.

15.

16.

17.

What the fuck?

18.

No way?!

19.

HOLY SHIT!

20!

Yeah, right. Vincent got up at, like, 12. Much to the surprise of every single human being in the arena.

"Fuck you, cunt."

Growling, Quinton took one step forward and jumped off the steps, landing on Vincent's shoulders and once again attempting an hurricaranna. However, Pembridge managed to hold on to Quincy's legs, allowing him to lean backwards and dangle dangerously. The Television Champion's eyes widened in surprise, before sudden fear paralysed him. He was in a position he most definitely didn't want to be in, and with the Scorpion now repeatedly ramming his right knee into his spine, Quinton May was fearing the worst.

The Manucian Predator, meanwhile, was replaying a rather funny incident in his memory bank, when he was dropped on his head a few months ago in thReat. It was the Malevolence PPV, and Xaxon had pulled off one of the most risky moves to have ever graced the squared circle. Grinning to himself, almost robot-like, Vincent Pembridge decided to go with the flow... and jumped up, as he executed the vile move known to some as a Ganzo Bomb on the concrete.

....

Quinton was as done as dinner.

"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"

And the referee really had no other alternative, but to get the count started as Vincent Pembridge pulled himself up and leaned against the announce table;

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

12.

13.

14.

15.

16.

....

Okay, it seemed as if dinner was a weeeeeee bit undercooked.

"Sodding hell!"

Charging forward, Vincent raised his right leg up and smashed it into Quincy's face, sending him down like a sack of potatoes once again. This time, Pembridge was hellbent on finishing his foe off once and for all, and pulled Quincy up to his knees, before sending his clenched right fist into the Canadian's face. Repeatedly. Pembridge was running on empty, in terms of energy and attacks. He had to finish Quinton off, fast.

And after about twenty unanswered punches, the Scorpion dragged Quincy up to his feet and kicked him in the gut, before executing his trademark Windpipe Smash! May clutched at his throat, gasping for air, staggered backwards and colliding into the announce table. The announcers suddenly had a notion that something bad was about to go down, and quickly vamoosed from their positions. Just as Vincent wrapped his hand around Quinton's throat, lifted him up in the air, and...

*CRASH*

CHOKESLAMMED THE TELEVSION CHAMPION THROUGH THE ANNOUNCE TABLE! UN-FUCKING-BELIEVABLE!

"HOLY FUCK!"
"HOLY FUCK!"
"HOLY FUCK!"
"HOLY FUCK!"
"HOLY FUCK!"
"HOLY FUCK!"
"HOLY FUCK!"
"HOLY FUCK!"

And as Quinton twitched admist the debris, Vincent glared at the referee and growled at him. Gulping, the referee shook his head, and did the one thing that could be done. He administered the count;

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

12.

13.

14.

15.

16.

17.

18.

Nope. Not quite enough to put Quincy Mama down.

If Vincent had hair, he woulda started tugging at it. He shook his head and closed his burning eyes, not being able to fathom how Quinton May managed to pull off a Houdini. Limping over to the timekeeper's table, Vincent retrieved his Scorpion Title and gazed at it. The crowd started to think that Pembridge was going to bail, and leave the scene. But no, instead, the Plague From Manchester hobbled back towards Quinton... who'd dropped to his knees after having answered the count.

Now upright, Quinton turned around, and immediately ducked an attack from Vincent, who'd intended on smashing the gangsta-like Scorpion Title into his enemy's face. Spinning around immediately, Pembridge started to get hammered with desperate hooks from Quincy, who'd succeeded in knocking the title out of Vinnie's hands... but realised that his punches weren't quite doing the job. So, the Big-Hearted Canadian did the next best thing, and kicked Pembridge in the gonads, before slapping on a front facelock...

And quite possibly, performing the greatest move known to mankind.

....

A spinning fisherman's sitout slam could be the technical term for it. Close to 99% of the audience had never seen a move quite like that before, but Quinton May had just executed it, down onto the concrete floor which was only partially covered with the debris of the broken table.

"HOLY FUCK!"
"HOLY FUCK!"
"HOLY FUCK!"
"HOLY FUCK!"
"HOLY FUCK!"
"HOLY FUCK!"
"HOLY FUCK!"
"HOLY FUCK!"

Within a matter of seconds, Quinton May had pulled himself up and rested his weakened body against the barricade, while the referee looked down at the almost-comatose Scorpion of Manchester, and once again, got the count underway;

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

12.

13.

14.

DYAAAAAAAAH! Vincent Pembridge had recovered. Somehow. And the fans weren't too appreciative of that.

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

Crouching down, Quinton grabbed the Scorpion Title and blinsided Vincent with it, almost knocking the British Degenerate clean off his feet. But somehow, all it managed to achieve was to send Pembridge kneeling on one knee, before he began to pull himself back up, as blood now began to trickle down the left side of his head. Spitting, Quinton tossed the Scorpion Title aside, and reached under the ring, before a smile formed on his face.

And as he pulled the newest weapon from under the ring, the crowd went ballistic. What Quincy Mama had in his hands was an old-fashioned 2x4, wrapped in lovely barbed wire. Vincent wasn't too aware of the danger though, as he'd stumbled forward, and seeked reprieve at the timekeeper's table, where he'd knocked over the ring bell & the TV Title. But, the hammer used in conjunction with the ring bell was still there. Pembridge's eyes gleamed as he sneakily grabbed it, and carefully peeked over his shoulder, to gain a measure of how far away Quinton was.

Seemed like May covered good ground. It was robably the 2x4 wrapped in barbed wire that was spurring him on. Sparking new vigour deep inside Quincy's body, and recharging the batteries at the same time. Now, measure up a small hammer against a 2x4 covered with menancing barbed wire. You'd expect the latter to be more effective, right? You'd also expect the former to be completely useless, right? Not unless you spin around quickly and hurl the hammer towards your opponent's right eye socket, though. Aye?

Aye.

And that was exactly what happened. Quinton screamed as he collapsed to the ground, his newfound weapon being quickly kicked away by Vincent, who was the next to go rummaging under the ring. It didn't take long for him to come up with a sledgehammer that had the crowd jeering. The grandfather of the small hammer the Scorpion had used was now in Vincent's hands, and the manner of the Scorpion's laugh didn't quite bode well for the Television Champion, who now tried to roll to his side, his mind telling him to crawl away as fast as possible.

*CRACK*

But a sledgehammer coming down on your left shoulder could really stop you in your tracks, yeah?

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

Okay, four shots of the sledgehammer to your left shoulder. Try imagining that.

....

Right. Game over, Vincent threw the sledgehammer down and raised his arms in victory. Quinton lay on the concrete, half-dead, wanting to roll around in agony but not being able to do so due to the unbearable pain that had now numbed every nerve in his body. Referee shrugged and counted;

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

12.

13.

14.

15.

16.

Hmm. Not even close. Quinton May, now resembling a zombie, had managed to get to this feet... but was swaying dangerously from left to right. The amount of blood HE had lost was making him weak and oh-so-pale. Vincent, on the other hand, was pale because he didn't know what else he had to do to keep Quinton down. So, he picked up the sledgehammer again and charged at Quinton, slamming the head of the 'hammer into his gut, before slowly raising his weapon above his head and locking his eyes on the back of May's head.

However, since Quinton had dropped to his knees, which allowed Vincent Pembridge to lock his target, the Television Champion found himself within reach of the 2x4 wrapped in barbed wire. His vision was blurred, but Quinton wasn't caring about whether his hands got cut. He simply grabbed the weapon and spun around quickly, burying the barbed wire into Pembridge's gut! The Manucian Predator screamed and dropped his sledgehammer, as the demented fans -- who'd been treated to a rather sick match thus far -- cheered their hearts out. Sure, they were probably hoarse, but the fact remained; they cheered!

Now, Vincent was afraid. Quinton was brandishing a weapon that was the epitome of EVILLLLLLL, and for the first time that night, fear could be seen in the Scorpion Champion's eyes! With his right hand over his abs, covered in gashes now, Vincent began to hobble away, wanting to get as far away from his foe as possible! It was a real sight to behold, Pembridge escaping from the ring, up the ramp... leaving a trail of blood. One that Quinton May followed, with his new weapon still firmly in his grip. Of course, due to the nature of the battle waged thus far, the British Degenerate wasn't able to get very far. He half-collapsed halfway up the ramp, allowing Quincy to catch up with him.

Personify: Quinton
You die now. DAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR.

"ARRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHFUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!

That was Vincent. Oh, why? Because Quinton brought that vile weapon crashing down onto Vincent's spine.

"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"
"QUINCY MAMA!"

Fighting through the pain, Vincent kickstarted his engines and once again began to crawl up the ramp. At a faster pace, this time. Reaching the stage, he forced himself up to his feet and limped towards the scaffolding to the right of the video-wall and the entrance. Quinton was rather enjoying the fact that The Arrogant Bastard, the self-proclaimed God Of Fight... was climbing up the 60-feet scaffolding to get away from him. The fans were beyond belief, now. There was nothing up there that could help either man to win the match.

Of course, unless the point was to lure the other bugger up there, then throw him off. 60 feet, from the stage right up to the rafters. It was a climb Vincent was making out of pure desperation, but surely, he had an exterior motive. Lucky for him, in which case, Quinton May deciced to give chase. With his precious weapon still in his grasp. And so, up both men went, as the seconds passed everyone by. Vincent kept looking down, to see how much progress May had made, and gulped everytime he did so.

A man with a 2x4 wrapped with barbed wire was NOT to be trifled with.

After about one and a half minute, Vincent Pembridge finally reached the top, having a bird's eye view of the entire arena, and finding absolutely nothing but dust up there. Quinton May, meanwhile, was having difficult carrying his weapon AND climbing up the scaffolding, but finally, he'd managed to catch up. Dried-out eyes and all, Quinton May found Vincent Pembridge crawling to the other side of the scaffolding, about 12 feet away. Suddenly, the fans began to think that all Pembridge wanted to do was to tire his opponent out; a climb up 60-feet scaffolding, followed by a climb DOWN the scaffolding, would definitely wear out anybody.

Scowling, Quinton limped as quickly as possible towards Vincent, and caught up with him within seconds... stopping the Scorpion from making any further progress by bringing the weapon down onto the back of his right thigh! Purely out of instinct, Vincent swung his left arm backwards, hoping to make some sort of contact with the Canadian's face. Contact was INDEED made, but not with Quincy's face. Oh no, it was made... with...

Yep. The 2x4 covered in barbed wire.

Flew right outta Quincy's hands, and down 60 feet onto the stage.

Both men blinked at each other, before Vincent quickly made a complete horizontal roll and kicked out at Quinton's gonads with his right leg! Fighting the urge to vomit, May doubled over in pain, only to meet possibly the most vicious right hand ever dished out by Vincent Pembridge, sending the Television Champion staggering backwards, fast. The crowd held their breath, as May staggered closer and closer to the edge of the scaffolding, both his face and groin numbing out his entire body. To this effect, The Plague From Manchester pulled himself up.

And grinned.

Slowly, he limped towards his foe. They'd been to Hell, back, then down to Hell again... all in this match. Which looked as if it was approaching its climax. By now, Quinton was on his knees, just several inches away from the edge of the scaffolding. The Scorpion Champion continued his trek towards the Television Champion, as blood continued to sputter out from his gut and spine. With just two feet seperating the two warriors, Vincent stopped, and looked down at his right leg. Tapping it against the steel of the scaffolding, making the massive video wall shudder.

Quinton gulped. He needed to think of a way out.

FAST.

Vincent smiled and cocked his head to the right. There was no chair to aid him this time, but he was going to deliver a Scorpion Bite just an effective.

So, he charged forwards, with every single fan now on their feet, fearing for the worst.

Quinton blinked, the beads of sweat pouring off his body down to the stage below. His legs wouldn't move, but they really had to, now that Vincent was so close.

And then, it happened.

May rose to his feet and jumped forward, catching Vincent in his stomach with a sidekick JUST as the latter was about to raise HIS leg for HIS sidekick. And with Pembridge collapsing to his knees, Quinton May realised one very important thing. The underlying theme of this match.

Personify: Quinton
The end... will justify... the means.

Personify: Vincent
I'm fucked.

In one last flourish, Quincy pulled Vincent up and dragged him towards the edge of the scaffolding, before slamming his right knee into the Scorpion's gut, then shoving his head in between his legs. The move had been executed several times in the match already... but never EVER had it been executed from the top of the world.

Hook of the arms.

One last intake of breath from both men.

And then...

....

The majestical free-fall.

....

....

....

....

....

*CRASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH*

....

....

The paramedics were called.

Back on mainland US, Vince McMahon got out of his seat and shat his pants. His son, Shane McMahon, grabbed a razor near his bedside table and began cutting away at his wrists in envy.

....

....

The Hideaway...

Off the top of the video wall, 60 feet above the stage...

Down to the technical area, making it a 70-foot drop....

THROUGH.

A.

FUCKING.

TABLE.

"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"

The referee, who'd remained on the stage the entire time, almost had an heart attack. He couldn't quite believe the madness he'd just witnessed. The entire arena was now filled with people who were stunned, beyond all human comprehension. Quickly running down the ramp and sprinting towards the technical area, the referee was just in time to meet up with the paramedics who had surrounded the area, and watched as Quinton May & Vincent Pembridge lay in the midst of pieces of broken wood, and some video equipment that had been broken to bits.

And amazingly enough, Quinton May started to stir.

Five seconds later, he was on one knee.

Ten seconds after that, he was leaning against the security barricade, and motioned for the referee to count.

Folks, it was over;

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

12.

13.

14.

15.

16.

17.

18.

19.

20.

19.

19.

19?!?!?

19.

....

DEAD MAN WALKING.

Vincent Pembridge had defied all logic, and answered the count. A broken Quinton May dropped to his knees, crestfallen, while the Plague From Manchester also slumped to his knees, he himself not believing that he was actually still ALIVE! The referee gulped, and told the paramedics to fuck off, while each member of the crowd soiled themselves. This was unreal.

Totally unreal.

Vincent & Quinton HAD to be robots of some kind.

Slowly, they arose, and their eyes locked on each other. And once again, the two men charged at each other, trading blows... as they took their battle away from the technical area and through the back. The referee was close behind, not daring to blink, while Vincent managed to grab some sort of advantage by poking Quincy's eyes and sending him hurling through the doors, that led out of the arena and into the backstage area. The live feed on the video wall kept up with the action, and immediately showing Vincent Pembridge lifting a metal crate off the ground and tossing it at Quinton, who rolled out of the way and staggered to his feet.

Hobbling towards the door, that had 'EXIT' marked on it.

Shaking his head, Vincent Pembridge gave chase, and found that it was raining as he stepped outside, into the parking lot of the arena. Turning to his right, he noticed that Quinton May was climbing up a ladder, up to a balcony, that overlooked the entire Section B7 of the parking lot. His face devoid of emotion, Vincent swallowed as his throat burned from dehydration, and gave chase, climbing up the ladder after Quinton. The referee, wisely enough, decided to stay on solid ground, as the rain beat down on his head.

Reaching the balcony, Vincent found out three things. One, it was protected from the rain. Two, Quinton was seated in the darkest corner of the balcony, huddled like a beggar. Three, for some odd reason... there was a steel chair, opened out and all, right next to Quincy.

"Hi," Quincy mumbled.

Vincent responded, "Hello."

May coughed, before looking up at Vincent again. "Is this the end?"

Vincent shook his head, before wiping his rain-soaked face. He was beginning to experience difficulty in breathing.

"After a fight like this? Not bloody likely. But, tonight, one of us has to walk out the winner."

Nodding his head, Quinton got up and hobbled towards Pembridge, who sniggered and charged at his foe. Quinton ducked the wild swing and let fly with a roundhouse kick to the upper-left ribcage area of the Scorpion, who staggered backwards, allowing May to follow up with a flying knee smash. Vincent collided against the steel railing of the balcony, before he blocked a sidekick, and lashed out with a snaking jab to Quinton's face. Stumbling backwards, Quinton found another powerful punch smashing into his face, before tripping over the chair, knocking his head on the hardwood flooring.

But, as Vincent approached and attempted to stomp Quincy's head in, May rolled to his right and sent his right fist flying into the Arrogant Bastard's right quadricerp, following up with an left-handed rising uppercut to the gonads. Cupping his groin, Vincent Pembridge limped backwards, finding himself resting against the railing of the balcony, directly above several cards. Looking over his shoulder, Pembridge suddenly had an epiphany, before the sound of steel meeting steel greeted his ears. Turning around, he found that Quinton May had folded up the steel chair.

And tossed it at him.

Without thinking, Vincent caught it.

"Bye."

Without a second's hestitation, Quinton sprinted forwards, connecting with the running sidekick.

....

He soared, over the railings and through the air, rain once again soaking his body. Downwards he dipped, descending upon a black Mercedes, and without having the capacity to scream out, Vincent Pembridge saw his life flash before his eyes. And then, body made contact with glass.

*CRASSSSSSSHHHHHHHHH*

The car alarm went off, as Quinton May dropped yet again to his knees, looking down at Vincent Pembridge. Who'd just been on the receiving end of a Scorpion Bite, that saw him being hurled 15 feet off the balcony, through the windsheild of some poor bastard's car, also denting the hood of the car with his weight. Immediately, he went unconscious.

And the referee counted, with Quinton smiling on the balcony;

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

12.

13.

14.

15.

16.

17.

18.

19.

20.

....

Yes, 20.

It was over.

THIRD FALL: QUINTON MAY

The referee swung his arms wildly, and in the arena, the bell rung. It was finally over. Quinton May had defeated Vincent Pembridge, to retain the Television Title & attain the Scorpion Title. Letting out a sigh, Quincy Mama passed out, the victory secured. Vincent Pembridge remained lifeless... and in the back, one camp celebrated, while the other shook their heads, disappointed. In New Orleans, a group of lawyers sipped their beers and nodded their heads.

But, the real story was...

Quinton May had emerged victorious.

The true immortal had arisen. Bow the fuck down.

Bow the FUCK down.

Winner:

The Sin Is In...

Darkness demanded respect as it kicked the lights into oblivion. The fans blinked trying to adjust their eyes to the darkness, one fan. A Patrick McCoy felt a shutter move down his spine. A few rows back Barbara Jenson shook like a baby as goose pimples moved across her arms like an invading army. Maybe there was an army coming…or something else.

The big screen shot to life and flashed 1 over and over in a cryptic blood red. It’s flash was eerie as the glow struck Marcus Stall on the upper level he felt his blood run cold. The word “Greed” showed up beside the one and in a click a two came up.

Beside the two blinked another word: “Gluttony”

The next number, a 3, creped across the big screen and next to it appeared the word: “Sloth”

This sent a lot of people into a sort of cold sweat…they knew what this was, this was the sins that they all committed.

4. Pride

5. Envy

6. Lust

They were listed and finally the number 7 began to glow, it swirled and next to it appeared the word “Wrath”

Boom

An explosion of pyros exploded with glee on the stage. The sparks rained down on the stage in an even eerier ember color. They slowly dissipated and Carl Horn in his plushy sky box shook with fear but why? No one knew, it was just a feeling…the big screen quickly turned to an 8 as slipknot’s “The heretic anthem” blared across the speaker system set up for the event. The 8 picked up in speed, twirling like a baton until it crashed making a shattering noise. 

9-7-03: The sin is in

The lights came back, everything went to normal but the feeling hung in the air like a bad stench.

Still Here

A few officials were leaving Vince Jacobs dressing room. They had to have been in the room checking on Vince after that nasty spill. Vince sat in his dressing room as a long sigh of relief came across his face. He had been through hell and back with Osyrus for the past month that culminated to the big ladder retirement match earlier in the night. 

Vince sat on the sofa with his face cuffed in his hands. He couldn’t believe that it was over with Omar. As much hell as both men put each other though he loved the sportsmanship with Omar.

He knew that it would never be over between the two men since both men wanted to be on top in this business. Plus Omar had a hidden provision in his contract that had him retire from ACW for a certain amount of time. After that time was up he would be able to come back to the ACW. SVJ didn’t like the provision but he didn’t care for now. 

He did something that NO-ONE in the ACW could do and that was get rid of Osyrus. 

Vince was in pain from that grueling match but he knew he had to suck it up because he had one more important match left for tonight. All the pain that Vince was feeling throughout his body was not going to stop him from accomplishing what he came to the ACW for and that was to become the ACW World Heavyweight Champion.

And tonight was the final step to reach that goal. He had one more obstacle to go through and that would be Khristain Keller.

Tonight SVJ solidifies his position in the ACW and that would be at the top.

All-Star Championship Wrestling United States Title Match
Dante Inferno Vs. Alexi Volstein

Alexi Volstein.

A lot of critics had him down for a star of the future, a lot of fans had him down for one of the up and coming men of the business, but as Volstein entered the fray, without his entourage, the fans couldn't help but wonder what he was going to do to get past Inferno. 

'The End of All Things to Come' by Mudvayne played along as Volstein got a less than warm reception. He was yet to gain the heat of an Osyrus, or a SVJ, but we was slowly but surely making the fans sick of him, and that was the job that he was meant to do from day one...

The opening guitar riffs cut of Volstein's track...but this time is was no Godsmack that echoed throughout the arena as the fans looked on...instead, the ACWtron lit up with a message that personified Inferno right down to his very bone.

SOME KIND OF MONSTER.

Metallica's gritty anthem from their new anthem was the new music for the ACW US Champion, and as he made his way down to the way, accompanied by the flashing lights and small amounts of pyro, Inferno looked into the ring at a man whom had tried to make this personal feud more personal than he could ever have imagined. 

Inferno, who had been personal with many foes before, was now looking at a man who had scraped for Inferno's attention and respect, only to spit it back in his face as Inferno did not show him the time of day...

This hardcore rules match got underway as Inferno slid into the ring, as Volstein went straight on the offensive with some heavy duty kicks as his opponent entered. Inferno powered up to his feet but was quickly set aback by a sharp right hand which sent him leaning against the ropes. Volstein then set the US Champion off with an Irish whip and looked for a clothesline, for which Inferno was keen enough to duck as he kept on to the other side of the ring.

Volstein turned around to flying forearm from Inferno as the large man from Atlanta made the ring shake, reminding many fans of his epic match with A*Dubbs which destroyed a cage. Inferno and Volstein for that matter were quickly on their feet, being that it was early in the match. Inferno clocked Volstein with a hard right hand which sent the Cult leader back into the corner of the ring as Inferno moved in to start some work.

But Volstein quickly turned the tables, showing that he was a little faster than his opponent, as a quick poke to the eye and a reverse bulldog had him back on top...literally as he went for a quick cover.

1...

2...

Kickout with authority.

Volstein was quickly up as he surveyed the arena for something that he could use for his advantage, and with it being hardcore rules...he could do more or less anything that he wanted to. Volstein quickly slid out of the ring and checked under the ring for some weapons, but his search was cut short as Inferno was starting to get up, as he made his way towards the challenger. Volstein pulled out a steel chair and quickly armed himself with it as Inferno stood in the ring.

"Come on..."

Volstein taunted Inferno to come out and join him, but the Champion knew that as soon as he set a foot out of the ring, he would be a prime target for the chair shot...so he used his head.

Inferno slid out of the opposite side and landed on the mat, smiling to the other side as Volstein quickly looked at his options, as Inferno looked for an equalizer. Inferno himself pulled out a steel pipe as Volstein decided to try and quickly run around the ring to catch the big man off guard.

Didn't work.

Volstein was close, but not close enough as Inferno pulled out the pipe just in time to see the whites of Volstein's eyes. Inferno smiled as Volstein tracked back as the duo were clearly in a standstill, that was until one of Volstein's followers attacked Inferno from the crowd.

As he jumped out from the crowd, Inferno turned around only to be clocked by a clothesline which sent him down to the mat as Volstein looked on at his disciple with a smile on his face, before taking the steel chair to Inferno's body. The reception was a rip roaring one, as Inferno's ribs were smashed with the steel, Volstein's follower put the boot in, literally with some shots to his head for good measure.

Volstein told his accomplice to lift Inferno up...to which he complied as he lifted the 300lb'er to his feet as Volstein shouted in the US Champion's face, screaming profanities at him as Inferno looked on. 

Volstein clocked Inferno with a right hand as the US Champion lay against the side railing, as Volstein and his buddy both collected steel chairs of their own, but Inferno had more willpower in him that anyone would have thought.

As the follower lifted his chair in the air, Inferno kicked him square in the nuts, as a huge roar from the crowd let go as Inferno then speared Volstein down to the mat, Volstein's head missing the ring steps by inches.

Volstein was on his feet quicker than his opponent though, and as he got to his feet, he went to check on his partner in crime as he nodded for an "ok". Volstein lifted Inferno to his feet but was shocked when Inferno cleared Volstein's hands off of him and then began to exchange right hands with Volstein, both men were still on the outside.

As the duo tangoed on the outside, Volstein's right hand man was soon on call, but this time Inferno could see him coming, so as he got up, Inferno kicked Volstein in the mid section and then DDT'd him on the mat. Inferno was on his feet just in time for the follower to hit him with a right hand, but at this point Inferno's adrenaline was raging, and he knocked him back a few right hands on his own as the duo moved over to the announcers table which was a melee of weapons and wood.

Both of which were about to be used.

Inferno quickly jabbed the cult member until he was dazed, and then rang his bell.

Literally.

He grabbed the ring bell and clocked his mystery attacker over the head with it!

Inferno looked on as the man crumbled to the ground as he was clearly KO'd, as Volstein watched on the other side of the ring, still a little dazed from the fierce DDT. Inferno wasn't finished however, he looked down at his pray, and then looked on at the announcers table.

Putting 2 and 2 together...

Or was he?

Volstein had jumped the barricade and was in the crowd, and Inferno spotted that as the fans made it clear to him where his challenger was. Inferno looked on as Volstein quickly rushed pass the numerous bodies to a save haven for himself, as he tried to get as far away from Inferno as possible...but that sadly was not going to happen.

As Inferno jumped the barrier Volstein made a sharp exit for the...exit.

Inferno made his way exactly the same as Volstein did, but with one significant difference.

Volstein never had an irate fan attack him from his seat...or was it?

Christoph.

Yet another follower of Volstein looked on as he clocked Inferno from the back with a steel chair, which had Volstein happy enough to return to the scene of the crime, as he had outsmarted Inferno once again in the match, as he clearly had backup to help him with the match in which nobody think he could by himself...proving people right Christoph and Volstein began the attack on Inferno actually in the crowd, whom weren't very happy with what was going on as the screamed in the faces of the duo, which eventually made them want to get out of the heat of the fans and into somewhere a little emptier.

Christoph and Volstein dragged Inferno into a backlot of the arena as the pictures continued on the large monitors for the majority of the fans. Volstein looked on as Christoph done the donkey work, before Volstein barked the order to leave him where he was, as both of them looked for more weapons to finish him off.

The referee quickly joined the scene as he could do very little about the situation, with it being a special hardcore rules match, with the falls count anywhere tag already included into the match. Christoph picked up a small metal chain as he swung it around to Volstein's pleasure, that was before he cracked it over the back of Inferno who let out a roar of pain, before looking at Christoph with fire in his eyes, but he couldn't do much as Volstein kicked him in the head.

"Piece of shit..." was the comment Volstein made as he got the boot in one again.

Christoph dropped the chain and pulled Inferno to his feet, as Volstein once again looked into Inferno's face with a sly smile on his face. Inferno was bleeding mildly at this point, and as Volstein looked on, the blood dripped from the US Champion's face onto the floor.

"YOUR BLOOD IS ON MY BOOTS!"

Volstein attempted to clock Inferno for the act of insolence, but instead, Inferno managed to duck the shot and free himself from Christoph's grasp, as the cult member fell to the floor after Volstein's shot. 

Christoph's nose was instantly broken as he hit the floor, and as Volstein realised what had happened, he was already against a wall, as Inferno had taken control. Inferno headbutted Volstein right between the eyes, as Volstein's vision was impaired as water filled his peepholes.

Inferno roared as he tossed Volstein into the middle of the hallway, Volstein doing a full front flip in a awesome display of power by the US Champion. Christoph was now on his feet, but he also was not in the best of shape as he looked to attack Inferno from the back, but the Red Devil was aware enough to catch Christoph at it, and he quickly lifted Christoph on to his shoulder and moved forward back into the crowded area of the arena, in front of the fans were he rammed Christoph into the concrete, causing an eruption of the fans.

Inferno got to his feet and paused as he looked back behind him, as Volstein was now sluggishly on his feet. Alexi however made what some would say to be a bad decision though...as he had clearly been watching too many Rock matches, as he gave the "bring it on" signal to his huge opponent, whose adrenaline was now at fever pitch after the previous exchange with Christoph and Volstein.

Inferno charged at Alexi like a raging bull...and as everyone expected Inferno to clatter into Volstein, they could not have foretold what was actually going to happen.

Volstein side stepped like a matador...only to reveal not just a brick wall, but an office window.

Inferno tried to stop, but my doing so his feet gave way, and he actually toppled into the window, with his back taking the brunt of the impact as he turned himself in mid fall.

The window exploded all over the makeshift office as Volstein, whom had side stepped so quickly that he fell into a pile of stage poles and slabs, eventually got to his feet to look at the damage, as the referee looked on worried for the ACW star's health.

Volstein pushed the referee out of the way as he looked through the whole in which he was a major part of, as he seen Inferno writhe in pain as the glass had scraped and scratched his back and arms, only his ring attire had saved his legs from any major injuries. Volstein kicked and punches the remaining shards of glass from the frame as he moved into the glass invested room, only to pick Inferno up, and throw him back into the main hallway.

Obviously Volstein didn't want to get his hands dirty...or full of glass and blood for that matter.

As Inferno rolled along the concrete floor, scrapings of crimson painted the floor as he finally came to a stop, looking up at the bright Florissant light on the ceiling, as Volstein made the cover.

1...

2...

...

He wasn't giving up.

The referee sighed with disbelief as he counted a two and night tenths of a second...as Volstein got to his feet and immediately kicked over a stack of stage metal in sheer anger. Volstein looked on as Inferno had turned himself over and was attempting to get to his feet, but Volstein, being the sick individual that he is, decided to use his brain, again, and step all over Inferno's back.

This once again was neither a smart move, as the sheer pain caused Inferno to try and get up once again, as he overpowered Volstein who was still standing on top of his as he got up. Volstein fell of to one side, and Inferno got to his feet, but Volstein cracked Inferno's jaw with a sharp right hand which sent him back on his hands and knees...

A slight pause gave Volstein a false sense of security, to which he would pay for.

"AARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Volstein looked down as a huge slash appeared on his right thigh, Inferno had taken a piece of glass and slashed his opponent with a classy flesh wound as he dropped the piece of glass, which had also scarred Inferno's hand after he gripped it.

Inferno was now in control...

He pushed himself to his feet...

Took Volstein by the waist...and hoisted him in the air.

Pitch Black.

The crowd made a huge roar as the picture went out on the fantron, only for it to re-appear as the cameraman turned on the light on the end of his camera...the picture was now of a floor of glass, as Volstein lay on the concrete, with blood pouring from the top of his head.

Inferno had hoisted Volstein into the Florissant light which sat above them...and it turn, had knocked Volstein out.

...

1...

...

2...

...

3!

It was over.

Inferno lay on the concrete as he looked up at the camera, a small smile on his face as blood still poured from his lacerated head, shoulders and back...but it was all good for the US Champion, as he had retained, and even more than that.

He had proved himself once again...

As for Volstein and his cult followers...

They had seen the light, and not liked the consequences.

Winner and STILL United States Champion: Dante Inferno

Confrontation pt. 2

Along the same halls from earlier, the massive structure of Elijah Toomes is heard stepping thru. Seemed to be un-scratched from a previous DARE attack, he walked with a big smile on his face before turning a corner. Just at this split second....

SMACK!

Elijah fell to the ground as he is smacked over the head with a cold piece of metal. Just as this happens another crashing blow falls onto his head and is proceeded to be stomped and brutally assaulted. 

DARE. He was putting his money where his mouth is, stomping away at Elijah's soaked head in a cold, brutal, vicious red that is only seen on hard, technical impact with a minor artery in the human anatomy. DARE's eyes were bloodshot, he was ready to fight this big mother fucker. However he knew he needed to hide, he can't out fight this guy, he would need to out play him.

Taking the upper hand after a few good kicks, DARE knew that this was the start of something terrifying.

Doing It For The Man, Pt. 4

Forme Carlos stared blankly at the inside of his locker, nodding his head slowly as he listened to his cell phone.

"Yes, everything is fine here in America, they do not know that I am not a legal resident."

Forme pauses as the person on the other line speaks, we cannot make out exactly what they are saying but we can hear it's in another language.

"It's good that home is fine and I don't know if I will ever return."

He pauses again… but this time the look on his face gets a little somber as he listens. He sighs then continues to listen.

“You’ve been watching?” He looks around the room as his door pops open. El Emenopi walks in with his mop bucket, and smiles at Forme. Forme just shakes his head and turns away from El, waving him to finish up quickly. “Yes, I know I’ve had a really bad record here. It’s not that uncommon, I just didn’t think I’d be… yes… I know.”

He pauses again as El appears next to him cleaning his mirror. Forme steps away from him and sits on his bench turning his back to El. El unscrews a dead light bulb an starts to put in a new one as Forme continues listening.

“That’s a great idea, papá… Si… I think that could make me a superstar, yet. All I need to do is bring it up at next week’s show.” Forme turns again as El slowed down in front of him, slowly wiping the dust off the top of the locker. “This could make me a winner… I’ll be the next champion! All I need is someone to…”

He looks up as El suddenly just stands in front of him obviously eavesdropping. He looks at him disgusted, the begins to talk. “I’ll talk to you later papá…” He closes the cellphone and stands up facing El. “Do you mind, esse? Or do you want your boss finding out you aren’t doing your job?”

Suddenly El realized that he had not been doing anything. Just standing there. Quickly he finished his dusting and walked out of the room.

Forme Carlos was up to something. Something big. Something that will make him a champion. Which means he will be a winner. But he needed someone to help him do it. El smiled widely.

“I’ll be a winner, too!”

King Of Ages Tournament Final
Khristain Keller Vs. Vince Jacobs

'Dirty Window' - Metallica

Cue heat.

Enter K².

K. Keller entered to an arena filled with boo's, and that would be a theme to which this match would continue to. It seemed as if fate was finally on Keller’s side as he was facing SVJ in the finals of the KoA Tournament. Keller made his way into the ring as he growled at the referee, whom was less than happy to be taking this match that was for sure.

Cypress Hill’s “Ring Superstar” begins to play over the sound system as ‘Superstar’ Vince Jacobs emerges from behind the curtain. Wearing a pair of gold wrestling tights, a pair of sunglasses and a black t-shirt that says ‘K² < SVJ’ on the front. 

“So you wanna be a ring superstarrr” 
“You’re in charge 
Growing up in the world 
Don’t trust nobody 
Gotta look over your shoulder 
Constantly 
So you wanna be a ring superstarrr”

The crowd rained down a shower of boos on the man who some say is the man to win this King of Ages Tournament and walk all over whoever the new champion will be…. Either Jason Kain or Alias. Vince stopped at the end of the ramp and posed for the crowd who in turned continued to boo ‘The Ratings Grabber’. He finally walked up the steps holding his ribs as he stood on the apron posing for the crowd as his pyros died down. 

Both men had gone through hell and back in their previous matches. Keller had lost his match with Arson earlier in the night and he had something to prove in this match against a veteran such as Vince Jacobs. Jacobs had a grueling battle with Osyrus that saw both men take a sick bump but in the end Jacobs won the match and retired Osyrus from ACW. 

The finals of the King of Ages tournament is here and both men were ready to become King and get their shot at the ACW World Heavyweight Champion whoever that may be.

The bell sounded as both men went for a collar and elbow tie up in the middle of the ring. Keller was obviously the stronger of the two and had the advantage on SVJ. Keller forced Jacobs back to the corner as the referee was trying to get in between the two men. The referee got in between the two men and broke them apart. Keller slapped Vince in his face as he moved backwards to the middle of the ring.

Keller smiled as Vince rubbed the side of his face with a slight smirk. Both men started to circle each other as Keller went for another collar and elbow tie up but Vince ducked under the attempt and slapped Keller in the back of his head. 

Vince smirked, as Keller didn’t look to thrilled. The fans looked on as Keller raced toward Jacobs but SVJ moved out of the way and gave Keller a knife-edge chopped to the chest on the ropes.

Vince grabbed Keller and whipped him into the ropes. Keller bounced off the ropes as Vince nailed him with a standing dropkick. Vince quickly dropped a leg drop across the throat of Keller. SVJ went for the quick cover.

ONE…

TWO…

KICKOUT BY KELLER!!

Vince picked up Keller and whipped him into the corner. He rushed into the corner but was nailed by a big boot from Keller. Vince staggered backwards as Keller exploded out of the corner and nailed Vince with a vicious clothesline that almost turned Vince inside out. Keller looked down at Vince and then raised his arms to the crowd as they booed loud.

YOU LOST TO AR-SON!!
YOU LOST TO AR-SON!!
YOU LOST TO AR-SON!!
YOU LOST TO AR-SON!!
YOU LOST TO AR-SON!!
YOU LOST TO AR-SON!!

Keller had a look of disdain on his face as he grabbed SVJ by the hair. Keller nailed Vince with a big vertical suplex. Keller picked up Vince again and whipped him into the ropes. Vince bounced off the ropes and was devastated by a HUGE powerslam. Keller quickly went for the cover on Vince.

ONE…

TWO…

KICKOUT BY JACOBS!!

Keller drops an elbow to the throat of Jacobs. Keller quickly gets to his feet and drops another elbow to the throat of Jacobs. Keller picked up the groggy Jacobs and whipped him into the ropes. Jacobs bounced off the ropes and Keller hooked Jacobs into a sleeper hold. Jacobs tries to fight the hold but Keller has it locked in.

They are in the middle of the ring so Vince could be in trouble. Vince continued to fight the hold but it only made matters worse as Keller continued to apply the pressure. 

Vince went down to one knee as he looked to be out on his feet. Keller applied all his body weight to the hold so Vince would have trouble to combat the sleeper hold. 

The referee went over to check on Vince as he raised SVJ’s arm.

IT FELL ONCE…

The referee raised his arm again.

IT FELL FOR THE SECOND TIME…

Then suddenly some of the fans in the arena did something that even surprised Keller. 

They started to chant for SVJ. 

Keller couldn’t believe it neither could the referee.

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

The referee went to raise Vince’s arm for the third time.

IT DID NOT FALL!!

Vince Jacobs was still in the match. 

He wanted to win this match and get his rightful shot at the ACW World Heavyweight Championship. Vince started to stand on his feet. He quickly turned into the sleeper hold and drove Keller down with a big side suplex that broke the hold. Both men were groggy but Keller was obviously the fresher of the two as he picked up Vince but Vince nailed Keller with a thumb to the eyes.

The referee went to admonish Vince with the rake to the eyes. Vince pushed the referee to the side and quickly nailed Keller with a side Russian Leg Sweep. Vince waited for Keller to get to a knee. Everyone knew what was coming. Vince bounced off the ropes and nailed the kneeling Keller.

STAR GAZER

SVJ quickly went for the cover on Keller.

ONE…

TWO…

TH--- NO!! KELLER GOT THE LEFT SHOULDER UP!!

Vince quickly hooked Keller with a rear chin lock. This was great strategy by both men since they both went through grueling matches earlier in the night. 

Vince tried to keep Keller on the mat but the bigger man made it to his feet. Keller dropped down to the mat as Vince’s chin hit the top of Keller’s head to break the hold.

SVJ held his mouth as Keller rubbed the top of his head before he went back on the attack. Keller quickly clotheslined Vince to the mat. Keller picked up Vince and drove him down with a DDT. Keller grabbed Vince by the head and pushed him into the corner. Keller nailed Vince with a big right hand that dropped Vince to the mat. 

Keller picked up Vince and set him on the top rope. Keller started to climb to the top rope with Vince. Keller hooked Vince and both men came down from the top rope with a big superplex. The ring shook from the impact and both men were down on the mat. Neither man moved as the crowd looked on in shock.

Vince was not one hundred percent from the retirement match earlier in the night as well was Keller. Both men took their time getting to their feet. 

Vince was still down on the mat as Keller was pulling himself up with the help of the ropes. Keller saw Vince was on the mat not moving at all.

Keller walked over to Vince and bent down to pick him up.

INSIDE CRADLE BY SVJ!!

ONE…

TWO…

THR--- NO!! KICKOUT BY KELLER!!

That surprised Keller as he got out of the pin attempt. The experience of Jacobs came into the play as he played possum. Keller and SVJ got to their feet and both men went at it to the delight of the fans. Vince was in a fistfight with Keller which some would say would not be a wise choice.

RIGHT…

LEFT…

RIGHT…

LEFT…

RIGHT…

LEFT…

RIGHT…

LEFT…

Keller started to get the advantage on Jacobs sending back to the ropes. Keller whipped Vince into the ropes. SVJ bounced off the ropes and slid under the legs of Keller. Vince turned Keller around…

A STELLAR PERFORMANCE

Vince got good leverage on the choke bomb as he drove Keller down to the mat. Vince quickly hooked the leg for the cover.

ONE…

TWO…

THRE-- NO!! KELLER GOT HIS SHOULDER UP AT THE LAST POSSIBLE SECOND!!

Vince knew he had to put Keller away. Vince knew this was his night as he already retired Osyrus. 

He knew that ACW Heavyweight Championship Title was in his grasp. 

Vince went to the top rope waiting Keller to get to his feet. Keller stood up as Vince came off with a flying cross body from the top. Keller out of nowhere caught Vince and drove him down with his own momentum with a powerslam.

The crowd gasps as Keller went for the cover on SVJ.

ONE…

TWO…

THR--- NO!! VINCE GOT A SHOULDER UP!!

Keller quickly hooked Vince with a STF. Vince was in pain as Keller kept on the pressure. Vince held his arm out trying to get to the ropes but Keller added more pressure. Vince screamed in pain as the referee tried to see if Vince wanted to give up.

“Vince what do you say?”

“AHHHHHH”

“Do you give up?”

“AHHHH…. NOOOOOO!!!”

Keller continued with the pressure as Vince tried to inch his way to the ropes. SVJ stretched his arm out and grabbed the bottom ropes. 

The referee told Keller to break the hold. Keller breaks the hold as Vince rolls out of the ring. Keller went to the floor to get to Vince but Vince was waiting for Keller. Keller raced in and Vince moved as Keller hit the steel steps. Vince picked up Keller and rolled him into the ring. 

The referee checked on Keller’s shoulder as suddenly the crowd started to boo loudly as Osyrus raced down to the ring and speared Vince Jacobs into the side of the ring. Osyrus picked up Vince and rolled him into the ring. 

He walked backwards up the ramp way laughing and pointing at Vince...as the fans took their last look at Osyrus for indeed a while, as Jacobs lay on the mat motionless.

Keller struggled to his feet as he grabbed Vince by his hair. 

Keller hooked Vince…

TRANQUILIZER

Keller drapes an arm over Jacobs for the pin.

ONE…

TWO…

THREE…

IT’S OVER!! KHRISTAIN KELLER HAS JUST WON THE KING OF AGES TOURNAMENT!!

Keller will automatically get a shot at the winner of the main event and new ACW World Heavyweight Champion. The crowd was in shock as Osyrus had caused SVJ to lose a world title shot on two different occasions. 

But the big story was that Khristain Keller had won the King of Ages Tournament.

Jacobs managed to roll out of the ring as Keller stood on the top turnbuckle in the ring, the fans, were going nuts, as he welcomed the abuse and trash which was being thrown at him, he was the #1 contender...

...now ACW just had to find a champion.

Winner: Khristain Keller

Can’t Seem to Win The Big One

Dante Inferno was sitting in the medical area getting taped up from his battle with Alexi Volstein. Some ACW officials were helping Vince Jacobs make his way to the back also. The officials help Vince sit down as some of the medics start to look at Vince’s ribs.

Inferno looked at SVJ and smiled grimacing in pain. SVJ peered back at Inferno who was getting bumps and bruises tended to. The medics felt Vince’s ribs as he screamed in pain.

“Owwww. That hurts.” Vince cried

Inferno shook his head as he continued to look at Vince.

“If you got something to say then spit it out.” Vince said with a pissed off tone in his voice

“You retire Osyrus...and then lose to Keller? Someone is getting old.” Inferno said

Vince shoved the medics off of him and bolted for Dante Inferno knocking him off the table as the two men starting to brawl on the floor.

Both men had gone through hell at this pay-per-view with SVJ going through the most. But all the pain and agony had seemed to have gone out of the window at this point. Jacobs was pissed off and Inferno just made a statement that enraged Vince even more.

The man had snapped. Although he still had a contract with All-Star Championship Wrestling and he was a big time main eventer, he still had something to prove to all the boys in the back and all his critics. 

The two men were battling on the floor as the medics, referees, and some ACW officials got in there to break it up. They finally pulled the two men apart as both men had fire in their eyes. 

“I will see you next week in Canada you big overgrown waste of human space.” Vince said 

The officials and the refs escorted Inferno out of the medic area away from SVJ as the cameras faded out.

Forbidden Alliance

Keller couldn't help but feel good...it was a rather unnatural emotion from him ever since his clinic days, but tonight, was a good night, no matter how badly it had started, it ended on the best of possible notes.

Even if he did have to get a little help.

Keller left the arena with his bag tossed over his shoulder, as he began to travel to his car, only to be pulled into a dark alleyway

"Don't bring us any attention," said a husky voice, "I don't want anyone to see me here with you."

Keller moved into the light as he looked into the man's face with a smile. Anyone further away could not see anything, due to the darkness of the alley and the angle in which the man was standing.

"So...I did it."

"Yeah...I heard."

"You know what this means right? On the next Courage, me and you, and I'll be Champion."

A small pause resumed as the man scratched his feet along the ground.

"I don't know about that, I'm unsure about coming out, what will the people think of me, I don't want to lose money over this Keller."

Keller laughed.

"You do own a stake in this shit-hole, remember? So who cares..."

Keller began to walk off to the distance as he looked back at the man with a smile on his face.

"This time next week...I'll have Gold around my shoulder, and we'll be the cream of the crop, we'll own everything there is to own in ACW, and then we can do what we want with it...Trust me."