PREVIOUSLY... As the world turns, and looks on ACW has never had such a big chance to impress. However, as a fleet of newer fans begin to follow the federation since King of Ages, they have found out something that may have shocked them just a little? ACW's been rocking arena's for over the past year...get up with the times people.

Grand Entrance

"I fucking hate Canada."

Boo.

The large ACW screen lit up as Khristain Keller, for the second show in succession filled the giant plastic structure as he looked down at the fans in attendance. This wasn't the same circumstances as the last Courage's fiery promo however, instead, Keller walked through the car park and headed for the arena door, beyond which ACW staff and talent stood and talked as they got ready for the nights festivities.

The manner of arrival was just as you'd expect from Keller, as he pushed the double doors open for a grand entrance, every single inhabitant of that hallway could do nothing but look at Keller's direction, as the #1 contender for Alias' crown smirked at his co-workers. As most of them turned away in disgust, Keller caught a man to the edge of his eye, coming closer as the rest seemingly wanted to get further away. Keller started at the tiled ground and chuckled, as Jimmy Gonz, former ACW wrestler and Guardian walked up to him.

"You're scum Keller...scum of the Earth."

Keller wasn't laughing anymore, and as the Floridian went nose to nose with Keller, he looked at Gonz with fiery eyes, as his hunger for ACW gold was fuelled by the second.

"You know what Gonz, I don't have to listen to your dribble...you aren't my boss...you aren't my friend, hell, you aren't even contracted to the company, so get your crocked, spiked face out of mine, before I make you a serious cripple."

Gonz snapped back.

"You little punk, you don't give a shit about this company and you never will."

Keller barked back, with vengeance.

"I am this company you little pussy fuck, now if you'll get your dog breath out my face, I have some things to do tonight, even though I haven't been booked for the second show running."

Keller and Gonz locked eyes for another brief moment, before Keller turned back around to face the door.

"C'mon...let's get out of hear."

Gonz turned, as SilverHAWK stood in the open doorway with his arms folded and a smug look on his face, Gonz looked in disgust as SilverHAWK followed Keller to his dressing room, but as HAWK passed, he was stopped by a swift tug from Gonz as they now stood face-to-face.

"HAWK? How could you?"

SilverHAWK looked at Gonz from head to toe, and then smirked.

"Hey...a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do...now, get your hand off me before I snap it off."

HAWK flicked himself free of Gonz's grasp, as he then followed on Keller's lead. 

The Icon of ACW had changed, and it wasn't for the better.

Key Meeting

Vince Jacobs was standing by the coffee machine fixing himself a cup of hot java. He grabbed the milk and poured some into his coffee. A few of the newer members of ACW walked past Vince as SVJ turned his nose up to the rookies. Vince stirred his coffee before placing it to his lips for a sip.

Suddenly someone bumped Vince at the table spilling a little coffee on the table in front of him. Vince slowly turned and looked to see who was the idiot that made him spill his coffee. He saw the new comer Keegan standing near him.

“I’m sorry about that Vince.”

SVJ looked at the rookie standing in front of him. He took a sip of his coffee before speaking. 

“Who are you?”

“I am Keegan and I am one of the newest members of the ACW roster.”

“Well… Keegan is it? Since you are a rookie you don’t understand the ways of ACW. Let me acclimate you to a few things. First off bumping into me is a no-no, even if it was an accident.”

Keegan looked at Vince with a scowl.

“Second of all calling me Vince should never happen. I am known to you as Mr. Jacobs, SVJ, Superstar, YOUR GOD… hell just call me Pro Wrestling’s Phenomenon.”

“You were actually one of the first wrestlers I wanted to me---“

Vince held up his hand in the face of Keegan.

“Look here kid. I get this all the time. Ooooo… Mr. Jacobs you are my favorite wrestler, I have wanted to meet you for such a long time.”

“But---“

“Let me stop you before it goes any further kid.”

“No, actually let me stop you Vince.”

SVJ smirked as he stood eye to eye with the rookie Keegan.

“You seem to have a problem with rookies coming into the ACW. Do we threaten you or something? I mean you are the big bad SVJ. One the biggest names in pro wrestling. So what is it about the rookies, huh?”

Vince smirked, as he never took his eyes off of Keegan.

“You rookies are so confident of yourselves aren’t you? I am the best this business has to offer. The man that every wrestler strives to be like, including you, my young impetuous friend.”

“Well how about you put your mouth to rest and take on this rookie tonight.”

Vince took a sip of his coffee never taking his eyes off of Keegan. He put the cup down on the table before looking at Keegan again.

“You know I am not doing anything tonight so why not teach some young punk a wrestling lesson. It will be my pleasure to show a brawler like you what real wrestling is all about. Make sure you bring your pen and pad.”

Vince walked past Keegan not looking back at the rookie. Keegan watched SVJ walk away as he just shook his head. He had to get ready for the biggest match of his short tenure in the ACW.

Outright Nonsense

A crumpled note laid on the table. Jason Kain stared at it for a moment then turned back to Jade. She didn’t look scared, but she looked concerned.

“AGAIN!?” Kain screamed suddenly. “The FUCKER skipped town AGAIN!?”

“Jae, maybe you should…” Jae flinched as Kain interrupted.

“Oh, no, no, no… That asshole is here, I know it. He was required to be at this show. He was REQUIRED to have a match with me! That fucker is here! HE’S HERE DAMMIT!”

Jade walked over and smirked, putting a hand on his shoulder. She put her other hand on his mouth, quieting him, then kissed him gently. “Calm down, boyo. Heh. Look, hun, just remember, he’s nothing in comparison to you. Prove it. If he doesn’t want to show up and show his stuff… then kick his ass mentally. Put out an open challenge. I guarantee someone will answer… you’re still indirectly the number one contender, no?”

Kain blinked, then looked at her for a moment. At this exact moment, she had a point. Anyone WOULD take his challenge. Not because he’s the legit number one contender… but because at the moment… it seems that his erratic state would cost him the loss. He was going to prove them AND himself wrong.

“Thanks, m’love. No wonder I love you so much.” He looked at her with not only a smile on his face, but a smile in his eyes. He leaned over and kissed her, then turned to the door. She smiled and bit her lip, as he walked out… then looked back at the gem on her finger.

'THE Parody'

"She Bangs" by Ricky Martin had just hit the loud speakers deep inside Calgary. The crowd explodes, expecting to see the tag team champions emerge from behind the curtains. But it's Duncan Cole, member of The Collective, that appeared at the top of the ramp, dressed, tackily, as one half of the tag team champions, Janitor Howard. Duncan grinned, adjusting the white-haired wig that sat atop of his head, and then began to take in the crowds reaction, nose in the air, continuing to grin. 

It was almost "Rock-esque". Howard...err...Duncan broke away, brushing off his blue janitor jumpsuit. The crowds reaction quickly turned to a huge chorus of boo's, finally realizing that it wasn't there beloved Janitor, but a conceited newbie. Cole began to make his way down to the ring, slapping the hands of the fans, limping down the walk way. 

In between fans, Duncan would hold his back in pain, trying to catch his breath. He tried as hard as he could to put the most emphasis on the fact that the Janitor was here before the friggin' dinosaurs. After a few moments, Duncan slid into the ring, leaning on the ropes, again, trying to catch his breath. The whole thing was over-played, but of course, that's how Duncan had intended it to be. Ricky Martin had slowly faded away as Cole took the microphone, but before he could begin talking, "Pity" by Drowning Pool began over the speakers. 

The crowd again exploded, hoping that someone could save this show. The crowd expecting Drake Nefarian were again "tricked" (if you even want to call it that) by the Collective. Chad Boden popped out of the curtains, dressed, like his partner, very tackily. But Boden looked absolutely nothing like, the Boxin' Sensation, Drake Nefarian. 

It looked like someone had used a marker to imitate the tattoo that Nefarian had on his left breast to draw it on Boden's chest and a red marker to draw the scar that Drake wore on the other side of this chest. Boden quickly looked around, wearing a sour puss on his face. He ran down to the ring and slid in, face to face with his partner who was imitating Howard. Drowning Pool was cut off and "Drake' ripped the microphone from the hands of "Howard"..

"Ey, liss'en up, chap," Chad said, he tried his hardest to sound, as much as he could, like a European. "What's ya doin' in muh ring? Ya wanna box, ya bloody basta'd?!?" 

The crowd wasn't impressed. They thought it was lame. But, "Howard' answered "Drake' calmly and with a smirk on his face.

"No need to get upset, Drake. I'm sure this dispute can all be worked out over some anal butt love tonight.", Duncan said, adjusting his wig, looking around. "I mean, after a huge fight, me and Morris just go at it." He smiled.

"Drake' stood there, rubbing his painted on goatee as if he was thinking. "Nefarian' nodded his head, "Anal butt love, ya say there ol' chap?" Duncan smiled and shook his head. " 'Ey! I'm Drake Nefarian! I don't do butt-love!" Chad exclaimed, "Howards' smile turned into a frown quickly, "now les' box!" "Drake' finished.

"Drake' "put up his dukes" as "Howard' backed away. Duncan stood there, watching his partner, he knew what he was supposed to say next, but was hesitant. He tried not to laugh, but went on with it. "I don't want to box you, Drake. How about, we go backstage, have a few brewskee's, get a lil drunk, then I'll take advantage of you?" "Howard' said as he smiled.

But before Chad could answer two men appeared running down the aisle.

Liam and Drake Nefarian (the actual one). It was .vindication.

Liam was the first one to reach the ring, followed quickly by Drake who decked Chad Boden was a right hand to the jaw. Liam went after Duncan who was in the process of fleeing the scene, but was caught between the ropes by Liam. Liam dropped a double axe handle across the back of Cole. The squrmish went on until finally someone came out to break it up.

El Janitors.

Howard and Morris, the tag team champions, went directly to the two that had threatened them, .vindication. This left The Collective a chance to escape and that they did. Chad and Duncan looked back at the two teams fighting in the middle of the squared circle. They smiled at the chaos they had created as they both disappear behind the curtains.

The Reason Why There is An ACW?

Spectators were still pouring into the site of Courage when ‘Prizefighter’ by Bush halted the crowd’s chatter and that noise, which had echoed around the arena, was replaced by a series of jeers as Keegan stumbled out with a smug smile on his face and a microphone in his right hand despite his injury though it had started to improve. 

He stood still at the top of the ramp and patiently waited for his entrance music to end before attempting to address the crowd. Clad in all-white Armani suit, ‘Special K’ certainly lived up to his billing even if the audience didn’t approve of his actions upon entering ACW, namely siding with the vile Vincent Pembridge and becoming the latest clog in the entity known as the British Army. 

They weren’t with him at the moment but that didn’t matter. The amount of stick supporters were bestowing on him appeared to be irrelevant as well. It seemed that ‘The Yardstick’ who had tried to start a speech of sorts on more than one occasion thus far wasn’t in any hurry to disappear. Finally, after the supporters fell silent, the former Fighting Zone Champion made his initial utterance: “That’s better isn’t it? 

Carrahar paced from right to left along the ramp. He was grinning to himself as he held the microphone and then turned to look at the top tier before beginning: “You’re not a patch on Fighting fans.” 

That remark didn’t sit too well with them yet he didn’t care and continued in spite of the negative atmosphere towards him: “Fuck me. You’ve woke up a little. It feels like a Monday morning not a Sunday night. Anyway, I had better get used to this I suppose. To borrow the title of an award-winning film, this is as good as it gets isn’t it ladies and gentlemen? 

“Now that we’re on the same page let’s get down to business shall we?” 

Nobody said anything. He wasn’t worth it and they weren’t particularly bothered about what ‘business’ he had in store. 

“It occurred to me the other day, while I was wanking or whatever, that you probably think I’m an arrogant, big-mouthed and good-for-nothing Knob Jockey don’t you?” 

“HELL YEAH!” was the cry. 

“Good and thank you. I really appreciate that we’ve got somewhat of an understanding. It’s a start at least. 

“Although I may’ve left the Asylum, I didn’t come to All-Star Championship Wrestling in the cold. Oh no. It would appear that way and while I’m not seeking psychiatric help for my addiction to ACW, I know a fair bit about it. 

“Just days before my debut someone sent me a copy of the previous Pay-Per-View. What was it called again? Glory? They should have renamed in Pot Pourri because it stank that much. Honestly, I watched the first five minutes and started hoying the Z’s out, which explains why you arseholes are so silent then. You’ve got fuck all to cheer about and what amazes me even more is that your heads are so far up your fag-ends that you genuinely reckon Wrestling is better than Fighting!” 

Needless to say, the Newcastle native wasn’t making any new friends with his derogatory remarks though that wasn’t his aim as the next passage proved. 

“What’s wrong with you lot? Do you not like it when someone tells the truth? That must be it. Well allow me to tell you a few truths about the so-called superstars of All-Star Championship Wrestling. A false tag if there ever was one. 

“Everyone hated Osyrus. Oh yes. He was the supposed bad arse of this promotion and I’ve got to admit he was one of the best competitors here. May I add that you shouldn’t take the term ‘best’ too seriously? What I mean for all of you arrogant American Wrestling fans is that he was the best of a bad bunch and where is he now? He’s in my former home The Asylum. You see he knows where it’s at. The only two-time World Champion in this company’s history isn’t daft I’ll give him that. Then again, I just hope the money is worth the hassle because it won’t buy him his health and he’ll be back here terrorizing the twats of this place faster than you can say ‘My Mother sold out.’ 

“Who is next? Oh. How could I forget about ‘Superstar’ Vince Jacobs? The reason why ACW may no longer have a Show due to my wages being higher than Justin Timberlake’s voice when his spaldings are stuck in a vice? 

“There are many people in this business who legitimately believe that they are ‘it.’ It’s not just a gimmick and the Superstar is one of those that have actually convinced themselves that this industry revolves around them. Once again, a prime example of why Americans so constantly have the urine extracted out of them. Yes, I’m surprised you don’t cheer for this cheat. After all, he represents every single one of you. He’s a conceited, self-centered cunt with less talent than Steve Blackman’s right eyebrow and an ego that surpasses the size of Hollywood. In other words, so you donuts understand it, he is your typical, everyday Yank.” 

Just as the ‘Geordie Genius’ was about to resume his rant in the aftermath of boos ensuing throughout the facility, the recipient of his verbal abuse, ‘Superstar’ Vince Jacobs, showed up on the massive screen and grabbed the Englishman’s attention: “I’m an everyday American? Please Keegan. How can you be ‘normal’ when you’re ‘The Reason There Is a Show’ and ‘The Ratings Grabber?’ Not to mention ‘Your God.’ I think it’s you, not the people, who don’t understand things round here. 

“Keegan, you come out here in your fancy clothes, your fake limp and an excuse not to wrestle while trying to maintain that you’re a first-rate Fighter? Hasn’t anyone told you that a first-rate Fighter only makes you the equivalent of a third-rate Wrestler at best? 

“I agree with you in one respect though. These fans are donuts as you rightly pointed out.” 

As usual, SVJ had spoiled himself but that was probably in the plan. He still had ‘Star Gazers’ worldwide, some were in attendance, yet at the moment the man who had represented the CWL as its World Champion at one point was one of the most hated individuals in the industry. 

“Ordinarily, I wouldn’t get in the ring with a third-rate Wrestler let alone a third-rate Fighter but ‘Your God’ thinks it is time you took the tour around this place and who better than ‘The Reason Why ACW is Alive’ to treat you to one? 

“Unfortunately, your big mouth has landed you in big trouble. I fear it isn’t the first and suspect that it certainly won’t be the last…” 

Vince was interrupted: “Hang on a minute. Where do you get off in calling me a ‘third-rate Fighter?’ Excuse me. I’m not the one who is washed up. I’m not the one who is past his prime. I’m not the one who needs sleeping pills when watching Quinton May matches. 

“Actually, that is me but that’s not important. No. What the issue here is that you were about to challenge me to a match believing that I would bail out, get down on my knees and beg you to get your knob out so I could give you some nosh. If you did have those preconceptions then not only are you a despicable Derriere-Damager but you’re also sadly mistaken ‘Superstar.’ 

“I wish – urge you – to come out and teach me a lesson big boy and personally introduce me to ACW. Maybe then I can understand why these fans actually exist since you’re ‘The Reason There is an ACW.’ All I’ve got to say to that is if you really are then I now know why the place is in the metaphorical shit. 

“Jaffer Cake, you should have retired after the CWL closed. That’s what bugs me about so-called legends. They ruin their legacy by refusing to retire at the top and carry on until they’re coffin-dodgers and ready to snuff it at any minute. 

“Don’t worry though son. You won’t need to make that decision anymore. Ladies and gentlemen, say goodbye to the great SVJ for fuck’s sake. For tonight, ‘Your God’ will become ‘My Bitch.’ Thank you very much.” 

On that note, both men departed to prepare for what could prove to be a magnificent match providing they leave their insults in the playground and stick to what they were born to do… 

Compete. 

Keegan Vs. "Superstar" Vince Jacobs

It’s ironic really. While one man saw his career quashed in the only organization he cared to be in the other is the sole reason why an ACW institution was forced to seek employment elsewhere. 

Keegan Carrahar’s move from the underworld to the Asylum wasn’t as successful as he would have hoped. The key was inconsistency and a series of serious injuries during his short stint certainly didn’t help either. The former Fighting Zone franchise’s fate was sealed when his half brother John C. Willis came a cropper against Vactor Thanh. 

Vince Jacobs certainly lives up to the moniker of ‘Superstar.’ Born and bred in Hollywood, which says it all, ‘Your God’ is already an accomplished athlete in this industry and has achieved success that many would struggle to cope with if they were allowed two cracks in this cutthroat business. And he’s still only thirty years old. 

In fact, some people have questioned his ability as of late but a winning start in the fWo and terrific display that resulted in Osyrus’ departure have gone a long way to suggest that the ‘Superstar’ can still compete at the very highest level. 

Although Keegan is known to the mainstream world for being a member of The Zone, which eradicated The Stranglehold, and for a few victories over Action! Champion Jeff Garvin, his better days were in TFZ until the illicit corporation took a hiatus and he never returned. 

Meanwhile, Jacobs had a similar experience but on a stage several hundred times larger than that of the ‘Latin Luminary’. As most of you will recall, ‘The Ratings Grabber’ has the distinction of being the only individual to have held the CWL World Championship once it reopened in 2001 but it unfortunately came to an abrupt end in spite of sensational support. Yet, neither the federation nor its kingpin at the time has even been forgotten. 

Both combatants needn’t prolong their careers as they’re millionaires. Nevertheless, their hunger to be the best that they can be has never ever diminished and that is the reason why they are contracted to ACW in spite of the company’s crippling debts. 

“Prizefighter” by Bush. 

‘The Height of Humanity’ kept the crowd hanging on and decided to emerge when the lyrics ‘The best is yet to come’ aired around the arena. It’s well-documented that ‘The Yardstick’ feels he is nowhere near fulfilling his potential and that tonight would give him an excellent opportunity to show what he can do against a world class competitor. 

At present, amidst taunts of ‘Vincent’s bitch’ all Carrahar showed the ACW supporters was his backside for a few seconds prior to pulling his black Adidas shorts back up to where they should be and he headed to the squared circle. It was apparent that the ‘Geordie Genius’ had a glint in his eye and as he stood up on the apron the ‘Essence of Extreme’ gazed around at everyone and held both of his hands over his ears insinuating that he couldn’t hear them and that irritated them even more, which was his objective of course. 

‘Special K’ sat down in the centre of the squared circle, presumably to take some strain off his healing left leg, when Cypress Hill’s ‘Ring Superstar’ replaced his theme but one thing that wasn’t substituted was the ice-cold response that was reserved for SVJ too. In all honesty, Vince received nearly ten times the heat of his assigned opponent. Having said that, a quick camera shot illustrated the appeal that the ‘Superstar’ still possesses in certain sectors as ten topless men – their torsos all bludgeoned with black pain to signify a single character – stood up to spell out ‘SVJ: OUR GOD.’ 

Meanwhile, ‘Their hero’ stepped between the ropes and ripped his black t-shirt off before throwing it to the outside as the bell tolled to signal that this encounter, one in which the fans didn’t care who won but wanted to witness anyway, was officially underway. 

However, the referee insisted on checking the soles of ‘The Reason There is A Show’ while the Englishman stroked his facial hair and sized Jacobs up (not in that way though) until it was his turn to display he had no chicanery up his sleeves. On that note, the bell sounded again and now the fun was about to begin. 

‘The Essence of Extreme’s’ cheerful expression evaporated as he wiped his hands and prepared to tie up with the ‘Hollywood Star,’ which resulted in the latter gaining an early edge with a side Headlock but that was effortlessly eradicated as the ‘Prince of Palermo’ ushered Vince into the corner and attempted a cheap shot, while they were being separated, but the ‘Superstar’ had seen that a thousand times before and was more than able to get out of harm’s way as the ‘Newcastle native’ knowingly nodded to himself as if to say: “Okay.” 

They were about to collide like two bulls again but the Briton found his mark on this occasion with a stiff knee, not something foreign to the former CWL franchise by any means, and Carrahar quickly complimented it with a clubbing forearm across the point of the spine and an elementary Axe Handle, which reduced the ‘Ratings Grabber’ to one knee. 

Needless to say, Vince regained his vertical base rapidly though Keegan was keen to preserve his advantage, albeit early, and he did so by upping the tempo ever so slightly with a sneaky Rabbit Punch to the back of the head and then a Legdrop to the same body part while SVJ was down on the deck. All of this brought a smile to the face of ‘Special K’ who was content with adopting a methodical approach as opposed to utilizing the heavy artillery right away. 

You would assume that the ex-Asylum employee should exploit the Californian’s weakened state but complacency was sinking in and the ‘Essence of Extreme’ appeared to be enjoying this a bit too much rather than stick to the task. Therefore, he received a wake-up call to say the least after attempting a Suplex that was converted into a Small Package… 

1 
2 

The ‘Latin Luminary’ had too much left in his long legs and kicked free just as the official’s hand grazed the mat for the second time and just as he was poised to set his stall out and erase the brief blip with a Clothesline he was found wanting as a wild swing went astray and was promptly punished by a Superstar Kick that caught Keegan flush on the jaw… 

1 
2 

Although he is 6’5 one of the reasons why Vince is such a decorated performer is because of his all-round ability and agility in particular. So it was no surprise that now he had the chance that he should go up top and launch an aerial offence. 

Despite being in the minority, some ‘Star Gazers’ stood on their feet as ‘Their God’ went airborne and connected with a gorgeous Guillotine Leg Drop… 

1 
2 
3? 

No. Two and a half. He was getting nearer but one thing was for certain. Carrahar was determined to avoid the humiliation the ‘Ring Superstar’ inflicted on Mike Heftel in the fWo Wrestler of the Year Tournament. 

Eventually, Vince had got himself out of a hole as he had done countless times in the past and opted to slow proceedings down again – this time with him in the driving seat – and negotiated the Star Light. 

The ‘Prince of Palermo’ disguised his pain enough even though it was having the (un) desired effects on his equilibrium and he escaped relatively unscathed by using his outstretched right pin to touch the bottom rope. 

Jacobs had moved away from being under scrutiny and was now taking giant strides towards accumulating another triumph, one in a recent and reinvigorated run, and a superb Starburst, otherwise known as a Brainbuster, certainly didn’t harm his chances of doing exactly that. 

Once again, ‘Mr. CWL’ went to the top strand in order to display the dimensions in his repertoire and he nailed the Newcastle native with a phenomenal Five Star Frog Splash that left the two-time Fighting Zone titleholder with a sore ribcage. Not to mention the 30-year-old himself. 

1 
2 
3? 

Not quite. Nonetheless, this time it was extremely close suggesting that ‘The Yardstick’ was ready to be put away any minute now. 

Even the most experienced veteran has to release his frustration and it came to the surface as Vince showed dissatisfaction at the assigned official’s inability to strike the mat thrice with his hand. In turn, whilst still nursing his tender midriff and capitalizing on the ‘Star Gazer’s’ failure to make themselves heard from such a distance, Carrahar changed the complexion of the contest with a clever Chop block. 

A few marks actually applauded this as the contempt they had for the ‘Height of Humanity’ was still nowhere near as much as the disdain they stored within themselves for the ‘Superstar’ but the Briton ignored the fickleness of the fans and chose to resume his job and make up for the mistakes he made merely minutes ago by allowing Jacobs to find his range. 

One Ankle Lock later and the talented talisman worthy of fronting the most prestigious promotions on the planet was squealing like a pig in pain though he reiterated his stern stance and refused to throw in the towel regardless of his precarious predicament at present. 

‘NO’ was the repeated cry and ‘Special K’ decided it was sensible to release the hold and go down another for the time being. Yet, it was going to be any less strenuous for ‘The Reason There Is a Show’ when an Irish Whip sent Vince into the turnbuckle with immense velocity, sternum-first to boot, and Keegan caught Jacobs before he could fall if only to deliver a devastating combination comprising of a Neckbreaker and Russian Legsweep respectively… 

One 
Two 
T… 

There was no way ‘The Ratings Grabber’ would have his time on television terminated in an instant like that would he? 

For variety, Carrahar executed a frontward version of the Russian Legsweep and now he was going to emulate his opposite number as he took to the top turnbuckle, even encouraged by several spectators situated in the front row but their support soon diminished as he yelled ‘Fuck off’ in their direction and executed a Flying Elbow that was in the same mould as Shawn Michaels though evidently still short of HBK’s high standards when it comes to that particular spot… 


One 
Two 
Th… 

The aggressor admonished the referee for his ‘slow count’ but he wasn’t going to make another elementary error and applied a textbook Texas Cloverleaf in the centre of the squared circle. This was all the Nick Turner’s student in spite of his aforementioned squash at the expense of Mike Heftel. His hard-fought affairs against Osyrus and the extraordinary and ironically-named woman known as Hilary Small, which were worth it in the end as he claimed wins in both instances, were beginning to take their toll and an excruciating submission such as this put enormous pressure on his spine, which was folded ‘like an accordion’ as our favourite Oklahoman loves to say. 

“Give it up Vinnie Jones. You’re going nowhere bonny lad. Just say it. Say the word son.” 

However, Mr. Jacobs, not Jones, was pretending to be pig-ignorant and that was probably the best policy considering the circumstances: “Which word would that be then?” 

Vince inched towards the apron in hope that he could overturn the tight spot he was in though that was thwarted as the relentless newcomer sucked him back towards the middle of the battlefield and arched his spine, a delicate body part devoid of injury anyway, so that it was nearer his neck. Surely, ‘Superstar’ had to give it up now? 

No way. Notwithstanding, he was physically unable of eliminating the mess for himself and in the end the ‘Geordie Genius,’ realising he still couldn’t make ‘Mr. CWL’ submit gave up hope of being able to achieve that feat just yet and derive the positives and that was he still had Vince where he wanted him – grounded. 

The Newcastle native went to the outside again – not to take a risk – but to bring the tried and trusted steel chair into the equation. To borrow another phrase from Jim Ross, business was about to pick up. 

Fortunately for Vince’s sake, the designated referee did his job for once and stepped in between the participants hoping to prevent the ‘Prince of Palermo’ from scrambling ‘Ring Superstar’s’ brains for breakfast. 

Thankfully, for the former Heavyweight Champion in five federations, this was the opening he was waiting for and as the official stepped aside for a split second Jacobs scored with his second Super kick of the evening, chair-assisted, to swing the pendulum back and forth like Jenna’s jugs during a typical Porn shoot… 

One 
Two 
Th… 

Those in attendance, a few of them at least, were startled at the ‘Essence of Extreme’s’ real resilience and how he could kick out of the sudden counter attack that had been brutally bestowed on his being. 

To say the ‘Height of Humanity’ had a headache at the moment would be an understatement though ‘The Reason There Is a Show’ was indifferent to his rival’s health and proved that by extracting revenge with an incredible Irish Whip that almost turned the Englishman inside out prior to giving him a lift up to the top rope. 

The majority of observers, irrelevant of whether they personally identified with either man or not, rose in anticipating that something special was about to happen. 

And it was. A dazzling ‘Supercaranna’ and an awkward landing for the ‘Latin Luminary’ spelled out doom for the hapless victim… 

ONE 
TWO 
THRE… 

You could hear the surprise amongst the All-Star Championship Wrestling faithful as Carrahar’s shoulder barely, emphasis on barely, moved an all-important inch above the mat and prolong Jacobs’ stay in the ring. While I may’ve referred to his reluctance to be off the television earlier on, I’d also hazard a guess that he just wanted to get this one over and done with. 

As opposed to dwelling on the last near-fall, Vince, a consummate professional (or so he told me) elevated the Englishman into the air and brought him down with an almighty thud that you and me know was ‘Stars in the Skies’ (Inverted Spinning DVD.) 

ONE 
TWO 
THREE 

That was it. 

Well it would have been had the ‘Height of Humanity’ not ruined the man’s grand plan and reenacted the scene from moments ago via raising his shoulder blade the same size as Maradona’s member. Minimal I know. That didn’t matter though. It was enough and ‘The Yardstick’s’ tremendous tenacity was certainly serving him well in what he viewed as a ‘make-or-break’ match even though he’s only been in the ACW for all of five minutes. 

Vince Jacobs always had a trick up his sleeve, something that would get him out of trouble or ensure his hand was raised in victory, and he had it in store. Across the United States and beyond, people reached for their remotes as ‘Everyone’s God’ put everything on the line… 

The Ratings Grabber. 

Boy, it was too. A truly astonishing Shooting Star Press that thrilled the entire crowd, supporters of the legend or not, and gave him and the recipient of his cruel craft a series of stomach problems that would surely haunt them in the bathroom tomorrow morning. Nevertheless, the blood-baying public couldn’t care less about that and the question and talking point at this minute in time was could the celebrated Californian recuperate and manage a cover, any kind would do, to nip this bout in the bud. 

Anything would do. There were people who wished him to get over there faster than he did though they appreciated (or tried to at least) the agony he was going through what with this battle being one of many in recent weeks and the ‘Star Gazers’ needn’t have worried anyway when he crawled over and draped one arm over his stubborn opponent’s upper body… 

ONE 
TWO 
THREE?! 

Not quite I’m afraid. The flailing forearm that had been resting on the prone Prince’s chest was emphatically removed, not that it would have taken much given the state that they’re both in, courtesy of Carrahar who was like a newborn baby and just would not lie down for anyone, especially if your surname is one that belongs to a company that specializes in making biscuits, cakes and cream crackers. 

What awaited the Englishman now probably baffled everyone, including Vince, who was running out of energy himself though maintained his undying desire to stretch his successful spell since joining the fWo and disposing of Osyrus at KoA and that was clear as he picked Keegan up and was prepared to presumably deliver a Piledriver or a Powerbomb. 

Which choice, if any, he had made would be left in his head as the ‘Latin Luminary’ left it to the last minute prior to ushering in a dramatic reversal though ‘The Reason There Is a Show,’ desperate to wrap it up, clung on to try and settle the spectacle via a Sunset Flip but what he did not bargain for was the ‘Geordie Genius’ going straight south (no oral jokes please) and hooking the ‘Hollywood Star’s’ legs in a bid to snatch a major scalp right from under his opponent’s nose… 

1 
2 

Well it would have been harsh, even on the ‘Superstar’, had he threw the tie away after all of that and as he was about to address Carrahar’s audacity he was taught a lesson for impatience and losing his head in the heat of battle as it was allegedly his turn to miss a Clothesline attempt and see his lead surrendered via a deadly DDT that drove his face into the canvas and confirmed that this clash was indeed alive and well… 

1 
2 
3? 

That would have been too easy. Nonetheless, the rejuvenated Geordie was in a better position he was sixty seconds ago and he maintained his momentum via yet another Irish Whip, which catapulted Vincent out of the corner with considerable force, and a rigid knee to the abdomen set up a sizzling Scissors Kick to the point of the spine as ‘The Yardstick’ decided to try his luck… 

One 
Two 
Thr… 

After dominating for the last several minutes the last thing that ‘Mr. CWL’ wanted to do was lose a contest that he feels he should win but the Briton sensed that there was still something in this for him and half a dozen nasty Knife Edge Chops were succeeded by a stinging Heart Punch that seemed to sap the energy from the lungs of ‘SVJ’ as he hit the floor was if he’d been shot… 

ONE 
TWO 
THRE… 

Another near-fall in a fight filled with them only added more tension to what had been thus far a terrific testament to each participant’s remarkable resolve and the Commentators at ringside speculated that it may take ‘something special’ or ‘out of the blue’ to bring this bout to a halt and at this rate they could be correct in their conclusion. 

Ironically, Carrahar opted for a surprising spot to revisit to the technical side of his strategy with a STF that the ‘Ring Superstar’ didn’t want at this stage – or any for that matter – of the ongoing battle though thankfully for him his offensive arsenal had had their desired effects and that meant the ‘Prince of Palermo’ couldn’t muster up enough strength to hold onto the Hollywood native, which also coincided with his good fortune to be close enough to the ropes anyway and an outstretched hand sufficed in order to revert back to square one. 

Anticipating Jacobs’ return to an upright stance, ‘Special K’ stood directly behind his opponent and cleverly locked on a Cobra Clutch to deprive Vince of any air and awareness of what was around him. Attempts to eliminate the Englishman’s stranglehold over him failed leaving the ‘Latin Luminary’ in control of the situation and as he tightened his vice-like grip even more the experienced campaigner felt himself fade fast paving the way for a pinning predicament… 

1 
2 
3? 

Not quite. A kick-out was greeted with more strain on ‘Superstar’ as Keegan kept the Cobra Clutch on and enabled the official to register another count… 

1 
2 

The decorated all-round athlete used more assertiveness on this occasion and kicked the canvas repeatedly as he fought to one knee though the Newcastle native was relentless and refused to release it but in the end he didn’t have much choice as SVJ, the same size as his co-worker, headbutted the ‘Height of Humanity’ and then swung the pendulum with a ‘Stellar Performance’ and it had been up until this point. However, would it be enough to mark the finale of this affair? 

ONE 
TWO 
THREE? 

The crowd couldn’t believe it. They didn’t particularly care for the combatants as people but even they realised that underneath all of the bravado, this pair were battlers and that had been epitomized by this encounter. Therefore, following the latest heart-stopping 2.999999 count, they turned the volume up that extra notch as they expected a cracking Courage if this action was anything to go by. 

SVJ, hands on head, let the ‘Latin Luminary’ up before he sprinted towards ‘The Essence of Extreme’ and launched a Crossbody Block… 

That would be converted into a picture-perfect Powerslam. 
ONE 

TWO 

THREE?! 

NO! 

And, according to him at least, Keegan now had another opportunity to have a go at the official for not finalizing what he assumed would be academic. He shoved the referee, who was sick of being bullied, and proceeded to push the ‘Prince of Palermo’ back but before Carrahar could put him in his place a delectable Dropkick to the neck out of nowhere nailed him good and proper, which in turn sent ‘Special K’ sprawling into the aforementioned official and rendering him a write-off in the process. 

The stubborn stars were grounded and for some reason Dante Inferno decided to make an appearance, possibly as a replacement for the referee, though the majority of marks out there probably thought that was as likely as the A-Train ever being considered a wonderful worker… 

Instead the U.S. Champion parked his posterior outside – with the title in tow just in case you wanted to know – and his arms crossed. 

Meanwhile, the men inside the squared circle were now on their feet and poised to embark on an exchange of fisticuffs until SVJ missed with the initial effort and just as the ‘Geordie Genius’ ducked and appeared to be poised to deposit Jacobs to the outside until the latter threw a spanner in the works and negotiated a beautiful Backdrop that meant it was Keegan who took the tumble from the battlefield to the floor instead and it wasn’t exactly what you’d call forgiving either. 

Whether or not it was down to exhaustion or over zealousness was arguable, if either, though the fact that the ‘Ring Superstar’ had failed to spot a small stumbling block between him and the Briton was suicidal as he failed to take a look up prior to launching himself into the air – and ultimately into Inferno’s waiting arms who happily rammed SVJ, spine-first, into the ring post and dump him on the deck. 

From there, the 300 pounds plus powerhouse treated ‘Your God’ to a rare instance of ‘Heaven and Hell’ all rolled into one and what made this sweeter and sadder, especially for the victim, was that this version involved a concrete floor. 

With his intentions outlined and accomplished for the time being, a delighted Dante headed backstage after his devastating display had left his exceptional adversary in a hell of a heap while Carrahar, who had Inferno to thank for avoiding ‘Superstardom’ so soon though if he could get his way into the ring, which was promising as he started to stir at the same time as the referee did, then his chances of becoming a big name in this institution overnight could indeed come to the surface. 
Somehow, he crept in and simply lay down on the canvas with his head in his hands as he waited for the official to fully recuperate and after that occurred the main man in the middle started a count, one of many in this match alone, though would this prove to be the all-important one… 

1 
2 
3 
4 
5 
6 
7 
8 
9 

10? 

The bell indicated that this entertaining opener was now over and while it probably warranted a pinfall, which you have to thank the United States titleholder for, the ‘Prince of Palermo’ could probably care less now as he had ultimately prevailed. 

Upon hauling himself up and with a grin on his face, ‘Special K’ scaled the turnbuckles and received a different response to the one that had been bestowed on him from the outset of this hard-fought humdinger meaning that a few of the jeers had been replaced with cheers. 

In what surely will be a rare show of mutual respect in his tenure with All-Star Championship Wrestling, the Briton bowed his head to the blood-baying backers and clearly clapped them for the applause that they’d reserved for his contribution and not his unpopularity with them at present. 

Overall, the two tigers didn’t like the ‘fickle’ faithful nor did they like one another but you don’t have always have to appreciate someone for their personality… 

If you respect them as a professional and that’s what ‘Special K’ and ‘SVJ’ had in common in the aftermath of their excellent exhibition… 

Respect. 

Winner: Keegan by Count-Out.

Next Week

The Collective, who had earlier started a 3-way tag team brawl, entered the locker room that read 'El Janitors'. Much to there surprise, Howard and Morris weren't making sweet sweet love all over the table that sat in the middle of the room. Boden had stopped just before entering with a smirk on his face, Duncan nudged his partner forward. Howard looked up as Chad fell forward, towards him.

"What's up you sexy studs?" Howard asked, looking up at both of them with innocent eyes and a sick smile on his old, perverted face.

At that time, Chad looked back to his partner, who just shrugged, not knowing what to say. Boden was freaked out as both Howard and Morris stood, The Collective stepped back. Finally, Duncan took the initiative..

"Listen, homeboys, we didn't need any help earlier when bitch boy Drake and Liam came down. We had shit under control and didn't need you two to come down and help us." Duncan said as he stepped out from behind his partner.

"So you two lads think you're 'the shit', eh?" Morris said in a sad attempt to be 'cool', before Howard could respond. Both Duncan and Chad nodded there heads as if to say 'duh! We are the shit!'. "Well then how about a match for these?" Morris pointed down at the table where both tag team titles sat, "what do ya say, boys?".

The Collectives eyes lit up. A chance to shine? A chance in the spotlight? Duncan and Chad nodded to each other, believing in there heads that they could take on these two old timers. 

"Name the place and time, ya old bastard.." Chad quickly answered without the slightest bit of hesitation. 

"Next week.." Morris and Howard both answered.

A Lesson in Morality

Call it coincidence or whatever. However, as soon as Keegan Carrahar was about to report to his dressing room during his fourth appearance in All-Star Championship Wrestling, which had started superbly after a count-out victory over Vince Jacobs, he was given even more ‘star treatment’ as Double Champion Quinton May, number one nemesis of the vile Vincent Pembridge, confronted him about his newfound allegiance with the British Army. 

“Hello Keegan. Can I talk to you for a minute?” 

The answer was short and snappy: “No.” 

Just when the Geordie Genius was about to plunder on with the limp that was still bothering him, the same hindrance enable the figurehead of the Television and Scorpion Fighting divisions respectively to catch up with him and prevent the Prince of Palermo from passing go and collecting two hundred pounds: “Why did you do it? Why side with him of all people?” 

Carrahar pretended to be oblivious to the subject of this onslaught: “Why did I do what? 

Quincy remained calm yet assertive as he attempted to address the Englishman without resorting to violence: “Let’s think. Did I dream you shaking hands with Vincent Pembridge and walking off with him as you were suddenly best buddies? Come on Keegan. Don’t you know what he is?” 

Special K smiled: “English? I didn’t know it was a crime nowadays.” 

“No. But murder is.” 

Those four words made The Yardstick stand up and take notice of May: “Murder?” 

It was Quinton’s turn to be sarcastic: “Yeah. Didn’t you know it was a crime? Is that because you’re English and don’t understand its concept? Is that why Vincent did it? He didn’t know it was wrong?” 

“Do you know this for certain?” 

“No. I just said it for the sake of my health. I enjoy winding people up and spreading ridiculous rumours like a little schoolgirl. Of course, it’s true.” 

Keegan was growing tired of Quinton’s tone: “Look. There’s no point in being lippy with me bonny lad because I’m about a second away from braying the shit out of you. If you’ve got a point, make it now or piss off. Alright?” 

“Well no. It isn’t alright. What kind of an example is it to hang around with a murderer? Do you have no morals?” 

“Now hang on a minute. I didn’t know anything about it and how do I know it is true? I’ve only got your word for it and I know bollocks all about you apart from the fact that you’re a fucking midget with a big mouth.” 

He tried to escape the attentions of the outstanding Ontarian athlete but to no avail as the leader of the QA stood his ground and made it clear to Keegan that he would have to assault him if he wanted rid without listening to what he had to say first: “I speak the truth. So do you have any dignity? Do you really want to make it known that you approve of a well-known murdered? I’m not the only one who knows. Everyone knows. The ACW fans aren’t stupid…” 

“You could have fooled me.” 

The Height of Humanity’s harsh assessment of the company’s loyal faithful in spite of the financial problems the federation were enduring annoyed the Canadian who felt the former Fighting Zone Champion was trying to avoid expressing his real feelings on murder. He tried once more to change his mind… 

“Can you imagine if one of your friends died? How about family? Either way, as we’re talking hypothetically, what would you do if you even suspected someone of killing a person you loved or even liked? I don’t know about you but I wouldn’t be happy about it. You can’t be human if you are can you? And you can’t be humane if you condone killers who have no motives.” 

It certainly gave the Newcastle native some food for thought and that’s what he did until he broke the uneasy silence: “So what do you expect me to do about it?” 

Quincy felt like screaming inside but he showed superb self-control over his emotions and instead delivered another valid point: “Absolutely nothing. I just thought you’d want to know that’s all. If you can’t work out what’s wrong after everything I’ve just said then you should go back to school yourself. 

“You’re not as bad as he is. There aren’t many who are. You still disgust me though. I must’ve been stupid to think that I’d be able to get through to you. What a waste of time and effort.” 

As May departed Keegan shouted at him: “You don’t know the half of it. But, to show you that I know what it’s like to lose someone, who I suspect was more important to me that this person you keep talking about is to you since you won’t even mention who it is, I’ll cut my ties with the twat. Not that I had any mind. It’s just in your suspicious mind. Like Elvis and look at what happened to him. 

“You win though. Just like you always do. You won’t get that luck your entire life son so enjoy it while you’re young.” 

On that note, the Latin Luminary left. May had worked his magic and as he watched the angry Geordie leave he also filled him in on one final point: “You don’t know the half of it either.” 

Stephan Mechowski vs. DARE

The arena slowly quiets as pyro explodes across the entrance ramp as the first few chords of “Coagulate” by Snapcase explode over ACW’s sound system.  A confident DARE emerges from behind the curtain, and sprints his way down to the ring, being “chased” by his pyrotechnic work as he goes.  He slides into the ring, and jogs across to the far corner.  He tests the ropes while “Coagulate” finishes up, until…

“Invincible” by Shadow 7

…The theme for ACW’s newest employee, Stephan Mechowski, hit the sound system.  Red and white pyrotechnics exploded from the entrance ramp, and the 6’8” 320 lb. Polish Powerhouse made his entrance to Courage, stepping out onto the large platform.  He slowly started walking down to the ring, and was attempting to get some support from the fans by slapping hands and acknowledging signs that they held up.

This proved to be a problem, because as he neared the ring, he was unaware of what DARE was cooking up.  He had run across the ring to prepare for the stunt that would lie ahead.  Catapulting himself over the top rope, DARE landed upon Stephan, knocking both men to the ground.  The referee couldn’t start the match until both competitors entered the ring, so anything was legal ‘til they entered the ring.

DARE, having the size disadvantage in this match up (being 6 inches shorter, and more than 100 lbs. smaller), needed a way to get the upper hand in this match up, and he had it as of right now.

He slid Mechowski into the ring, and wasted no time getting onto the Polish Powerhouse, laying into him with stiff kicks to his massive ribcage.  Mechowski cringed with each kick, but eventually scaled his way to his feet with help from the ropes.

*DING*

The bell sounded, as DARE and Mechowski finally locked up to start this match up.  Stephan, with the overall advantage in this match up, got DARE into a headlock right off the bat.  Soon after, DARE whipped Stephan hard into the ropes, only to come back and level him with a hard clothesline.

Stephan wasted no time, picking DARE up, and giving him hard body shots with his massive closed fists. 

The referee was trying to keep this match under control by keeping Stephan’s fists open, but to no avail.  He told Stephan that one more closed fist would get him disqualified from the match up.  This made no difference to Mechowski, as he shrugged it off and continued his assault.

One after another, Stephan’s fists plummeted into DARE’s ribcage, until finally Stephan floored him with a hard uppercut.  DARE’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell hard to the canvas.

*DING*

Had Stephan won?  No.  By referee’s decision, Stephan had lost the match due to disqualification.

The reason?

He was using his old fighting instinct.  He was using closed fists, which were very deadly weapons in the hands of Stephan.  Stephan had a long way to go if he expected to be employed by ACW under these conditions.

Winner: DARE (by DQ)

Views of the Viewless

"You see...this is the problem with this company now, we hire no-talent less yaks who have just came from Japan and think they can cut it here, no offense."

"None taken."

SilverHAWK paced Keller's locker room with a mean scowl in his voice, no matter what people said, he still had ACW in his heart, and it was because of his feelings for the company, made him make a deal with the dark side in Keller, because there was no other way that he could stay in the company, a company of which he owns a stake in.

"You know what HAWK, why is everyone going all creamy in the pants for this fucking main event tonight. Ruben hasn't wrestled since he was around in the Asylum, and we know they don't fucking wrestle there anyway, so it's going to be a piss poor match surely?"

HAWK looked on is disbelief.

"How dare you put down the name of Ruben Ross! Former fWo Champion you know?"

End Sarcasm.

"Yeah I know...that's all I bloody heard this morning with all those little punks outside the arena; "fWo and ACW Champion to be!". SHUT THE FUCK UP. The next man to carry that piece of gold is standing in front of you HAWK, and as a former Champion yourself, you know I've got the grapefruits to take it off that Jason Kain lover anyway."

HAWK nodded.

"Just as long as the final piece of the puzzle is fitted very soon...and then, Alias, will be a dead man, Ruben Ross or not."

The Mis-Adventures Los Locos Moscocos! Pt.4

Forme Carlos looked at the box and cracked his knuckles. The box was tattered and beaten a bit, but the contents were still not known. Forme groaned. His look glanced upwards toward the man holding the box, who stood there smiling as stupidly as the wrapping paper on the box.

The man holding the box was El Emenopi… And he had tried this before… But he’s trying again.

Can’t blame the guy for his perseverance.

“Open eet, mang!” El smiled behind his mask, hoping Forme would just take the formality and just TRY the present.

Forme blinked blankly, then looked back at the disheveled box. Finally he grabbed it away from El and, to El’s excitement, tore off the wrapping. He pulled the tattered lid off the box, staring inside of it for a long moment.

El’s face still showed the look of awe and excitement, while Forme’s turned into a slight look of confusion and disgust. Finally El walked over to the box himself and pulled out the object of El’s infatuation.

Forme had just received his very own mask.

“I made it for you, mang!” El smiled as he held it up proudly.

It was identical to his own except in blue and purple instead of orange and green… and El was thrilled. He thrust it towards Forme with a huge grin. Forme faltered for a moment, then shook his head.

“Aww… come on mang! Los Locos Moscocos! We’ll be the first ever masked tag team of ACW!” El tapped Forme on the chest, then smiled broadly… but the smile was shortlived as Forme rolled his eyes and tossed the mask back into the box.

Forme glared at El for a moment, then started towards him… getting right up into his face.

“Elian… can I call you that? No matter. Elian… You stupid little cabeza de maricon! Look at me.” Forme glared, nose to nose. “You want me to wear that… you’re gonna win a match. A tag match. And we’re going to get those titles. You understand me?”

El’s face went back to the smile.

“No problemo, mang! I get choo, mang! We’re buddies, mang! No need to be angry! I’ll get us a match next week, no problemo! We’ll be better than ever, mang!” El stepped toward the doorway, then quickly rushed out…

Just as Forme closed the door he heard from behind it… “Los Locos Moscocos forever, mang! Viva La Rasa!”

Forme slunk down and started to weep.

The First Threat…

After wrestling the legendary Vincent Jacobs, Keegan took a quick detour to his car in order to grab a celebratory bottle of Newcastle Brown Ale, which was arguably deserved, before reporting back to his separate suite only to find that the door was already open. 

At this stage, ‘Special K’ was slightly suspicious as one would be. He’d never encountered this in a few years and it wasn’t the done thing for officials to go rummaging through the contents of the roster’s dressing room was it? They were busy enough as it is. 

He braced himself and released an intake of breath before entering to find that there was no damage at all. However, after a few seconds of surveying the room, he noticed a small white envelope that rested on his seat in the centre of the room. Carrahar appeared to be confused, which was completely justified under these strange circumstances, and he picked it up reading aloud the message that had been put together via newspaper cuttings and that only meant one thing… 

A threat. 

“REVENGE IS MINE FUCKER!” 

‘The Prince of Palermo’ pondered what this could mean for approximately a minute and in the end he came to the conclusion, probably for his own sake, that this had to be a wind-up or that Vincent had found out about his conversation with Quinton. 

Therefore, following a spell of uncertainty and suspense, he rolled it up and threw it in a nearby bin and sat down on the aforementioned seat to attend to more important matter. 

Ignorance is bliss. 

More Dirt

SVJ was sitting in his dressing room on his nice Italian Leather sofa. Only the best for Vince because he was such a big superstar. His personal life had taken a dramatic turn as his wife delivered a 7 pound 2 ounce baby girl a little under a week ago. Vince was on cloud nine because of the birth of his child. A lot of people thought that the birth of Vince’s daughter would bring a change to Vince.

Don’t think so… Vince was still the same arrogant son of a bitch and he loved it. He was on his cell phone with a smile on his face.

“Yeah honey I know. I am so upset that I had to travel to Calgary this week. I want to be home with you and Briana.”

”Hurry home honey we miss you.”

“I will be on the first plane out of here tonight don’t you worry. I love you.”

”I love you to, Vince.”

“Kiss Briana goodnight for me.”

”I will… Good luck tonight. Don’t do anything crazy.”

“You know me Vicki.” Vince said with a smirk

”Yes I do.”

He could feel a warm smile coming from his wife through the phone as he closed the cover on the cell phone. Vince turned his attention to the monitor of tonight’s action.

“Damn Canadians make me sick. If Carter wasn’t paying me good money I wouldn’t be in the stink hole.”

Vince’s cell phone rang again. He looked at the number on the cell and smiled. Vince quickly answered the call.

“Joey, what news have you got for me?”

”Well Vince I have found out some very interesting things about Dante Dokic.”

“What you find?”

”In nineteen eighty-nine he put a fork to the throat of another kid in the lunchroom puncturing the kid’s skin and traumatizing the young kid.”

“Interesting... Find anything else.”

”Oh there’s more. In nineteen ninety-two Dante poured acid on another teenager. It was reported that it was in self-defense but a few eyewitnesses I spoke to say that Dante was the bully who was tormenting this kid. Dante tortured the kid before pouring acid on him.”

“Oh this is good stuff. Carter will definitely want to hear about this. He wanted proof and my man Joey you got the proof for me. Thanks buddy.”

”No problem Vince, just doing my job.”

“The check is in the mail. If I need anything I will give you a call.”

”Thanks... You got the number. Talk to you later.”

Vince hangs up the cell and sits back on the sofa grinning like a Cheshire cat from ear to ear. 

“Looks like I need to give some information to Mr. Carter.”

Vince stood up and opened the door to his dressing room. He slowly walked out of the door and walked down on the hall. 

He was a man on a mission…

Li Xiao Vs Hillary Small

Summer Overture hummed softly in the background as the Communistic Juggernaut made his way down the ramp followed closely by his manager Chi Lee. The expressionless face of Xiao seemed somewhat disturbing as the fans immediately booed to the wave of China’s symbolic flag. 

Before long, both of the communists raised their arms inside the ring as Lee asked for a microphone. The capacity crowd, probably there to see Ruben Ross and Alias rather than Li Xiao, booed vigorously before Lee could even utter a word. 

“Shut up you damn Americans!” Lee shouted as the tried to be heard over the capitalistic crowd. 

The mentality of the mob stayed constant however as Lee just cracked a smile. Lee looked over at Xiao as he stood like a pillar, minus the uncomfortable expression on he held on his usually stoic face. 

“Wha’ you get to see tonight is very special treat from Chinah!” Lee continued as he pointed at the crowd. 

“Tonight, Li Xiao, the Communistic Juggernaut, make in-ring debut against ANY AMERICAN wrestlah!” 

The crowd cheered mildly, hoping someone from the back would shut this runt up. 

Lee turned around and looked at Xiao before blushing. Xiao was scratching his…er, private region. Lee muttered sternly to him in Chinese and Xiao stopped abruptly. 

“Li Xiao was born…bred…trained…to do nothing but wha’ he was raised to do!” Lee paused as the fans began to quiet down. 

“An’ that to KILL COMPETITION!” Lee screamed. 

“So who it gonna be? Who first wan’ to fall to communism lead?” Lee questioned. 

The crowd then diverted their attention to the ramp, as The Boisterous Bitch Ms Hillary Small appeared - each and every spectator watching her...at 6'8, she was hard to miss. She raised her hand in the air, her traditional battle stance...and for the first time in her entire career received cheers upon her entrance. She smiled, her facial expression a happy one but yet 
emphasizing the fact that she is ready to defeat her opponent. She walked down the ramp slowly, stroking her long hair as she did so. She entered the ring, as Lee frowned at her. She stared at him, not daring to break eye contact. Hillary pounded her fists together and flexed her biceps. She was ready. 

“Wha’ tha hell is this? You girl. Li Xiao no figh girl! Especially big fat ovah weight she-man!” Lee said before laughing at his own joke. 

“Get outta ring before you break nail missy. Li would seriously hurt you!” 

But Hillary Small didn’t back down, but rather stood in front of Xiao, only measuring a few inches shorter than the fighting brute. Xiao puffed out his chest a bit as the persistent Small said something inaudible to his face. 

All Xiao could do was scratch his manhood and grunt in retort. 

Ding. Ding. Ding. 

The referee called for the bell as Hillary Small backed up a bit from her opponent Li Xiao. Both 
wrestlers circled around the ring and waited for the other to drop their guard, or provide an opportunity for assault. Lee on the outside screamed for Xiao to go after her. 

“She a girl! Get her!” He yelled from across the mat. 

Xiao took a quick half step, as did Small, and both competitors were now in the center of ring tied up in a collar and elbow. Small used her relative quickness and forced Xiao into a side headlock, which was quickly broken up as Xiao used his massive strength to push the 300 some odd pound woman away from him. 

Small grinned at the recent hand Xiao had shown her. 

Xiao scratched himself again. 

Small charged at Xiao, who was by the ring post being preoccupied by his “lil Xiao” and delivered a hard connected punch. Xiao rocked back on the heels of his feet, but didn’t sway to much, which came to the shock of Small. Her eyes widened a bit and a look of worry waved across her face as a giant hand enveloped her throat. 

Xiao tossed Small like a paperweight into the turnbuckle and proceeded to give her meditated body 
shots to her kidneys and vital organs. As Small gasped for air, Xiao took her arm and bulleted her across the ring. Small hit the other turnbuckle so hard, she bounced back at the charging freight train. 

SMACK! 

Small hit the mat like she was shot in the head from a demoralizing clothesline. 

The mat bowed under his weight as Xiao stalked over Small before picking her up by the neck. Xiao lifted his leg and brought a stiff kick to the midsection of Small’s body. She doubled over and was gasping for air as Xiao under-hooked his arms and dropped to the mat with a well-sold double-arm DDT. 

In the snap of a camera Xiao was then on the back of Small’s with his hands locked around her chin in a well thought out camel clutch. Hillary’s mouth was seething with pain as she screamed out into the crowd. Xiao gritted his teeth and really bared down on her, pulling with all his might, trying to get Hillary to submit. 

But she didn’t. 

For some reason, Xiao let go. He let go of Hillary and jumped up to his feet in alarm, scratching his crotch furiously. Li yelled from the side of the mat at Xiao to finish Hillary Small before she recovers. 

Small was over on the ropes, halfway up with the help of them. She was just shaking the cobwebs out of her head as she saw Xiao start to lumber over to her, with a hand in his pants. Xiao went to pick Hillary up with his vice grip arms, but had to pause momentarily to again scratch himself. 

This was all Hillary needed. She sprung up and with quickness and precision slapped Xiao in both his temples, knocking the monster down to one knee. Still scratching himself, Hillary pulled his head back and looked at him dead in the eyes before shoving his head into her knee. 

Xiao wasn’t down for the count though, and the Boisterous Bitch knew it and complimented it with a stick kick just as Xiao was on all floors painstakingly trying to reach the ropes. Xiao flipped over on the mat and stared looking at the lights as Hillary’s silhouette hovered over his eyes for one last time. 

She picked him up slowly, inhaling deeply to take in the cheers of the fans as she positioned him in the center of the ring. 

BOOM! 

The Dominate Female!!!! 

One… 

Two… 

Thre- 

YES! She did it! She just pinned Li Xiao, and Chi Lee can’t believe it. 

Winner: Hillary Small

A Prank of Mythic Proportions

Hillary Small made her way to the backstage, arms raised. Li Xiao lay in the middle of the ring, furiously scratching his "region". Chin Lee was trying to communicate with his fallen friend, but Xiao only grunted and continued to scratch madly inside his tights. 

Then someone appeared at the top of the ramp. 

The dark figure expelled huge belly laughs in the darkness. It wasn't until he stepped into the light that we could make out his face. 

It was CJ Trenton. He stood, one arm pointing at Xiao laughing, the other tucked behind his back. He giggled wildly, as if he'd just seen the funniest thing in his life. Lee took notice of the rookie and shot him an ice cold glare. Xiao was too pre-occupied scratching himself to care. 

The focus was back on CJ, as he removed his arm from behind his back into plain sight. In it, he held a small can. The camera zoomed in to display the can's label on the Tron behind him. 

"Wacky Zacky's Itching Powder". 

The arena roared in approval. CJ Trenton had not only managed to sneak itching powder into Xiao's tights, but he'd also cost him his debut match because of it. Chin Lee's eye widened. He looked at Xiao and then at the Tron and then at a laughing CJ. As he slowly connected the dots, he grew furious and started screaming angry Chinese in CJ's direction, jumping up and down. 

CJ simply grinned and tossed the can into the crowd before heading to the back. Xiao attempted to climb to his feet - with both hands digging in his tights - but failed and fell on his face. Lee tried to comfort his massive protégé and his "skin condition", but it was no use. He rolled him out of the ring and aided him up the ramp as the crowd laughed at their misfortune. 

One thing remained certain: CJ Trenton had just painted a bull's-eye on himself.

Is He or Isn’t He?

Quinton May had walked the corridors in search of Vincent Pembridge’s locker room. The pair never exchanged pleasantries despite their fantastic finale at the King of Ages Pay-Per-View more than month ago so it wasn’t what you’d call a social call when the Double Champion located the lounge… 

“Who the feck is it?” 

That was his usual response to everyone anyway. However, if he’d known that it was his number one nemesis then the words would have surely been stronger. Notwithstanding, he wasn’t ‘chuffed’ when he opened the door to see the courageous Canadian standing there. 

“Hello cunt. What the fuck is your ugly face doing here? Are you looking for an arse-kicking because if you have you’ve knocked on the right door.” 

Quincy could only smile at the ‘Scorpion of Manchester’ as he prepared to break the bad news: “If anyone’s going to hand out ass-kicking's around here it certainly isn’t going to be you. Where do you get off in calling me ugly? Have you had your eyesight checked recently you fucking freak of nature? 

“Believe me, when I tell you that I’m not here for any of the reasons you thought I’m here for me and accept my apologies in advance.” 

Vincent was confused: “Accept what bloody apologies? What the fuck are you rambling on about you little twat?” 

Quinton stroked the stubble that rested on his chin prior to explaining what he meant: “Well you see Vinnie. I hate having to do this. I really do.” 

“Out with it before I knock you the feck out.” 

May chose to put Pembridge out of his misery. “I had a chat with your friend Keegan earlier. He’s a charming man when you talk to him properly you know. I’m sure you would know this to a degree but I suppose the only thing you’ve talked to him is about murder, which he doesn’t agree with by the way. He told me. Well he doesn’t agree with murder that has no motives. There that’s better.” 

“Get to the feckin’ point,” ‘The Scorpion’ snarled. 

“Ultimately, your Army is getting weaker Vincent. Unlike mine, your Army is built on hooliganism and sheer manpower. You don’t consider whether you’ve made the right choice or not. 

“You automatically assumed that Keegan was a member of the British Army…” 

The Englishman interrupted his Canadian counterpart: “I don’t assume fuck all. He IS a member of the British Army. You’re just jealous. You may have won the battle at King of Ages but you won’t win the war Quinton. I am feckin’ sure of that as I’m sure your short arse is here giving me a bastard headache so I suggest you go before I batter the shit out of you.” 

“You didn’t listen to what I said Vincent so I’ll say it again shall I? You automatically assumed that Keegan is on your side but he isn’t. How do I know? I talked to him earlier and he told me this. I’m not making this up. I’m not a liar. If you don’t believe me, which I couldn’t care about, then ask yourself why he isn’t here. If you overcome your ignorance in time, go find him and ask him yourself. You WILL be disappointed.” 

So he did…

The Past is just that… The Past

Brian Carter was seen walking down the hallway in the backstage area. Carter was walking with a purpose toward a certain area. He was headed to a certain superstar’s door, that superstar was none other than the ACW United States Heavyweight Champion. Carter knocked on the door once before entering. Inferno quickly turned around as the door swung open and Carter walked in.

“What are you doing here Carter?”

Carter sat down in one of the chairs in the room and looked at Inferno motioning for him to have a seat.

“I just got some information that I want to discuss with you.”

Inferno knew where this was heading as he looked at Carter with a menacing look.

“Is it true that you put a fork to the throat of another kid in the lunchroom puncturing the kid’s skin and traumatizing the young kid?”

Inferno sighed for a second.

“Also you poured acid on another teenager when you were seventeen.”

Inferno sighed again before speaking.

“So the past comes back to haunt me...yes, I did both of those deeds, but to be honest, seeing what goes around here every week, am I not in correct company? Anyway, I have "levelled" myself now, and am in control.”

Carter shook his head. “I hope that is true Dante. Thanks for your time.”

Carter stood to his feet and walked to the door. He opened it and walked out closing the door behind him. Inferno stood up and kicked the coffee table clear across the room. He grabbed the sofa a turned it over in anger.

“Jacobs...”

Inferno walked over to the wall and punched a hole into it. Blood started to drip from the knuckles of Inferno as he looked up with a strange psychotic look.

“Someone's past is not something to be made a joke of Jacobs...and if you want to play, I can be just as ruthless as you.”

The Hellraiser opened his door and walked out of his dressing room. 

God only knows where he was heading. 

Only Inferno knew…

Six Feet Under

Vincent Pembridge had done his homework. He had spoke to Keegan at a vending machine a few weeks ago and after being informed by an official that he had intimidated with regards to where Keegan Carrahar’s dressing room was, he parked himself in the corridor near to a refreshments machine and anticipated the arrival of a certain compatriot and bang on cue… 

“Well. I thought I might find you here.” 

Carrahar chuckled: “Oh Vincent. I love our little chats and by the looks of it you do too.” 

“So you won’t mind me tell me why the feck someone such as Quinton May, well it had to be that twat, came up to tell me that I had one less member in the British Army. Would you mind telling me what the fuck he meant?” 

“Well it’s really simple Vinnie lad – like you. It seems somebody has got the wrong end of their prick. Actually, that’s harsh. Everyone reckons that I’m a member of the British Army.” 

“You are. Or were it seems.” 

Special K dismissed it: “I was neither bonny lad. You see that’s what people think merely because we shook hands. If that’s the case, then your dick’s also a member, pardon the pun, of your so-called Oliver’s Army isn’t it? 

“I shook hands with you because you wanted it. As much as I love playing games with you Vinnie I felt that a handshake would be an end to it but here you are sniffing around me like a slut sensing she’s going to get lucky with a stuck-up millionaire. Is that what it is? Because I’m a millionaire you want some?” 

Pembridge wasn’t pleased: “You fucking tricked me Keegan. And I don’t like being messed around. Anyone who dares to do that ends up…” 

“Six feet under?” 

Vincent was confused by the comment: “What’s that mean? Oh fuck it. I don’t give a feck anyway. What I do want is you in the ring tonight. Come on Keegan. Show the world what you’re made of. Prove that I’m really overrated you miserable cunt.” 

He loved it. This week it was The Yardstick’s turn to have a laugh at his enemy’s expense for luring him into a false sense of security: “Are you sure you don’t want me in bed instead?” 

“Yes or no?” 

“You’re not my type I’m afraid. I prefer people with long brown hair, lovely legs, a cracking arse and a C cup. How about yourself? Are you into Gingers?” 

The former TFZ Gang Champion was clearly beginning to lose his rag until his countryman granted him his wish: “Alright son. Let’s see what you’re made of. Prove to me that you’re actually worth something you fanny-faced faggot. If you want me tonight you can have me – big boy.” 

Keegan blew Vincent a kiss just as Charles Dunn came into shot. The ACW executive saw a seething Scorpion walk in the opposite direction to himself and approached the Englishman, who suddenly fell to the floor and started to nurse his knee. Dunn ran down the corridor to approach the fallen Fighter: “Keegan, are you okay? What happened to you?” 

The Geordie Genius grimaced: “It’s my fucking foot. As he punched me, I fell and landed awkwardly on it. I mean it was getting better but I’ve completely fucked it now. I can’t move. Could you help me please?” 

Charles didn’t know what do in the situation but after a few seconds he helped the Height of Humanity up and gave him someone to lean on as the Englishman ‘limped’ all of the way to the treatment room. 

Would he be able to wrestle Vincent Pembridge after all?

The Challenge Reborn!

As “A Quick Death” smashed it’s way through the PA, and the orange and purple lights flickered around the arena, the crowd exploded with applause. Finally, Jason Kain was coming to the ring… something they hadn’t seen for the past couple of weeks. Not just to stand there and spout off… but to get in the ring and fight. But after a whole month out of the ring, it was about time.

Kain stepped into the entryway… throwing two fingers and a thumb to the air, showing something odd about his normal entrance. He looked around then pulled the arm down and walked steadily toward the ring, rolling under the ropes and calling for a mic.

“NOW, SUCK ON THIS!!!!”

The crowd chanting along with him caused a smile to come to his mouth. He looked around then back to the camera. He pulled the mic back to his lips, then stared patiently.

“I was originally going to come out here, and make and open challenge to everyone in this federation… as I am legitimately the number one contender still. Though I don’t get the first shot, because Keller won that tournament, I still have my shot coming up. But I was thinking. A vague challenge would be a waste of time… instead, I want a piece of a true contender. I want to take on someone that’ll put me to the limit. I WANT PEMBRIDGE!”

The crowd groaned. They knew what was coming, another tantrum about wanting a piece of the Manchester Scorpion. Something he obviously couldn’t have. But suddenly the music made the soft murmur change into rabid booing and cheering at the same time.

The music was Cypress Hill’s “Ring Superstar” and the man answering the challenge was NOT Vincent Pembridge… it was a Vince.

Vince Jacobs.

“OH SHUT THE HELL UP, KAIN!” The sound was loud and clear, and the look on SVJ’s face wasn’t a too happy one. “I hear this bullshit week in, week out. And all we know is that Pembridge is being a pansy-ass piece of crap! Look, Kain… You want a match to prove yourself. I want a match to kick your ass. Fair trade, no? Let me get in the ring and shut you the fuck up!”

Kain glared up the ramp and smirked. “Today, Mr. Jacobs… your name is Pembridge… BITCH! And for you I have NINE WORDS… You think you have a chance!?!?”

The crowd roared, preparing for the infamous catchphrase and the chant along…

“DIDN’T THINK SO!!!”

Jason Kain Vs. "Superstar" Vince Jacobs

SVJ rushed the ring as Kain tossed the mic out, and set up for the match. A ref came down the entryway signaling for the bell as SVJ quickly stepped in with a hard dropkick. Kain fell back, but immediately stood up getting ready for what was to come.

SVJ had just come off a hard loss, and staring Kain down wasn’t the only thing he planned on doing. He gritted his teeth, then spit through them at Kain. He knew Kain was a bit off kilter, so the best way to keep him at bay was to feed his anger… sure it might hurt a bit more… but Kain would be bound to do SOMETHING stupid.

Kain’s temper flared… once again, Pembridge had sidestepped and left Kain waiting for a response… and SVJ was not the response Kain wanted. But who was he to back down from a fight? Especially if he’s complaining about someone doing it to him. He thought about his article, and about what he said… and confirmed the fact that Pembridge would have been better off fired, especially if he couldn’t back up his mouth.

Both men stared at each other, waiting for a good moment.

Then the moment happened.

SVJ struck out with a vicious chop to Kain’s chest, sending him wobbling back, then hit a hard slap to Kain’s neck before stopping to spit in his hand and level Kain out with a hard slap to his jaw.

Kain rolled out of the ring, with his cheek stinging… he hadn’t done this in three weeks… and now he was learning the hard way that he can’t just slack off. It doesn’t matter why he did. As the ref counted three, Kain rolled back in under the ropes… staring SVJ down.

SVJ sneered at Kain, then quickly moved in for a grapple… but Kain got the upper hand sending Jacobs down with an armdrag, and holding onto it for a quick armbar. SVJ yanked quickly and broke free, shaking out his arm as he regained his footing. Kain smirked… not that easy, he thought.

Vince seemed to know what Jason was thinking, though… and he smiled. Because the uppercut that shoved Kain back toward the ropes wasn’t expected at all. Kain shook his head, as his jaw stung from another hit… but Jacobs wasn’t done yet… the quick lariat sent him flipping over the top rope back to the outside. Kain knelt by the apron, holding his head from where he landed, but was quickly handed a baseball slide… and Kain wasn’t a good catch.

As Jason Kain flew toward the guardrail, SVJ continued his slide to the outside of the ring. He looked at Kain leaning over, then tapped his chin up, sending a hard cross chop to Kain’s chest. Vince’s eyes flared angrily as suddenly he envisioned his earlier loss… and flipped out.

Punches and kicks and chops and forearms.

All flew in a fury at Kain as finally he fell to the ground, failing at guarding himself from the onslaught. But Jacobs wasn’t finished just yet. He pulled Kain to his feet, then lifted him onto his shoulder… dropping him face first onto the rail.

Kain’s teeth rattled. His head busted open in two places. The taste of copper in his mouth was infuriating. He realized one thing… and one thing only.

Right now… he wasn’t proving shit.

And in his mind all he heard was laughter. Jason Kain doesn’t like being laughed at.

SVJ rolled back into the ring, throwing his hands to the sky as the crowd booed his advance. But suddenly the boos turned to an uproar as SVJ felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and saw a sight that would haunt a normal man for years.

Kain’s face was a crimson mask. But the expression was not one of pain. It wasn’t one of submission. It was a face of sheer enjoyment. But it wasn’t just the face that made SVJ step back. It was Kain’s words that made him shudder.

“Hit me again.”

SVJ stepped back a bit more as Kain stepped closer. Kain looked up at him through a mix of red and black and bared teeth, and uttered the sentence again.

“HIT ME AGAIN.”

SVJ obliged, sending a jolting hook to Kain’s cheekbone, but Kain just flinched then looked back at Jacobs… grinning from ear to ear.

“DO IT AGAIN!”

A second hook, a second twitch, a second sick grin…

“DO IT AGAIN, ASSHOLE!”

The third hook was suddenly caught with a block, and hooked under… twisting Vince Jacobs’ arm in a direction it wasn’t meant to go… but Kain didn’t seem to mind it one bit. SVJ tried pulling the arm out… but was caught with a hard bloody headbutt, instead. Kain smiled as his eyes flashed wildly, catching a second headbutt, then letting go. SVJ wobbled into the ropes, and Kain followed it up with an irish whip… as SVJ rebounded, Kain caught him with a reverse waistlock… a third headbutt… and a quick belly-to-belly suplex, sending Jacobs crashing to the mat behind him. Kain rolled to his feet, catching Jacobs again with a second belly-to-belly, then rolling up again for a third…

SVJ knew he had to do something, and quickly rolled out after the third suplex. He started back up the ramp, shying away from the madman in the ring. But Kain started screaming out to him…

“GET THE FUCK BACK IN THIS RING YOU PANSY-ASS MOTHER FUCKER!!!”

SVJ stopped half way up, looking back at the ring as Kain flipped him the bird. SVJ frowned… the blood on his face wasn’t his own, and he was the one leaving?

“WHAT? YOU AFRAID OF ME BIG MAN!? YOU SAY YOU’RE A SUPERSTAR!!! GET YOUR ASS BACK IN THE RING AND BE ONE!!!”

SVJ started back to the ring… slowly.

“SO YOU CAN LOSE AGAIN!!!”

That was it. Vince Jacobs had had enough… over-confidence was one thing… calling him a loser was another. He slid under the ropes as Kain rushed toward him, but instead of a suplex from Kain, SVJ reversed, sending Kain back first and upside-down into the ropes. Kain quickly got to his feet again… the temper overflowing.

SVJ nailed him with a spear, shoving Kain to the mat. Jason Kain pushed Jacobs off of him, and started back to his feet again… Jason glared at the newly invigorated SVJ, waiting for the one moment to trap him again… he saw his chance… Jacobs had wound up for a punch… and it all went into slow motion…

The fist came back… started toward Kain’s face… but the duck caught Jacobs off guard… he spun a bit too far as Kain hooked the arm… he fully locked the full nelson… and the crowd started up…

WOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAHHHHH!!!

But it didn’t happen the way it should have… SVJ threw his arms to the sky, sliding out from the bulldog… shoving Kain chest first into the turnbuckle… and as Kain bounced back…

SVJ rolled him up into a school boy. And as the ref counted, SVJ’s feet hit the second rope…

1…

Kain’s eyes grew wide as he saw Jacobs feet…

2…

The ref didn’t even notice…

3!!!

The perfect crime.

And “Superstar” Vince Jacobs committed it.

Winner: Vince Jacobs

The Madman in the Crimson Mask

“NOOOOOOOOO!” Kain pulled himself to his feet as Vince Jacobs rushed out of the ring and up the ramp. Kain glared at the ref, who was just now watching the replay of the illegal pin. The ref looked at Kain, nervous about the fact that the pin was counted. And nervous was the correct way to feel.

Kain grabbed the ref and tossed him into the turnbuckle, punching wildly. Then he tossed him to the mat, pulling his arm around his own neck and pulling the other into the arm-scissor… locking him in the overload. The crowd stared in horror as Kain had completely flipped. They didn’t know how being rejected could hurt him so much…

Referees and backstage officials rushed the ring, trying to get Kain off of the knocked out ref… but to no avail. He was choking the life out of him and nothing would stop him. Nothing. If he couldn’t have Pembridge… he’d take the next best thing. The officials pryed, but nothing was making Kain let go… suddenly a red-headed woman rushed down to the ring.

Jade looked at Kain’s face, crying herself. She yelled for him to let go… but it seemed to fall on deaf ears… The refs face turned blue, and she started to slap Kain…

He let go. The ref’s death would prove nothing. Only that he was no better than Pembridge in any sort of way. But something had to pay for his embarrassment… he pulled himself away from the officials trying to restrain him. Jade walked over to him, but he pulled back, rolling under the ropes and grabbing a chair from ringside. The officials came after him, as he took one out with a hard swing… then a second. Two men tackled him, and it was over.

But just as the situation calmed down at the ring, the big screen flickered to life. As Vincent Pembridge stood next to Mr. Carter in his office. Only nine words were heard before the laughter from Pembridge came bubbling out… and those nine words were…

“I bloody fuckin’ told you ‘e was a liability, mate.”

Transition is a Must…

“What in the living fuck did you think you were doing out there, ‘Mr. Tough Guy’?!” screamed Joe Bishop!  He was talking to one of ACW’s newest employees, Stephan Mechowski.

Earlier that night, Stephan had put DARE’s life in danger by using his closed fist fighting tactics in their match up. 

Stephan didn’t know any better, but that’s why Joe Bishop was here…to make him know better.

“Stephan, you must realize one thing here in ACW.  It will probably be the most important thing that you’ll learn in your tenure here.  You must fight by the rules.”

Bishop paused. 

He was obviously under a lot of stress.  “This isn’t the UFC, or an underground fighting organization.  This is All-Star Championship WRESTLING.  Wrestling, Stephan…  Not fighting, meaning that there are various things that you can, and cannot do.

“…”

Stephan remained quiet.

“Now, I’m going to give you until after the Pay-Per-View this month to clean up your act.  Until then, I’ll give you some more matches, and more importantly, find you someone who can fucking teach you what is legal and whatnot here.”

Stephan stared straight at Bishop, not moving an inch.

“…And if, by chance, you don’t shape up by the Pay-Per-View.”

Bishop pauses…

“Consider yourself jobless.”

Bishop lets out an evil laugh, looking into Stephan’s eyes.

“You’re dismissed.  Get your sorry cheatin’ ass out of here.”

Injury Time

A Specialist was attending to ‘Special K’ when Quinton May, who Charles Dunn had requested to see, turned up to see how ‘The Height of Humanity’ was doing following an alleged punch courtesy of the callous Vincent Pembridge and as a result the former Fighting Zone franchise also fell awkwardly aggravating the foot injury that he claims had been healing very nicely indeed. 

Quincy entered the room to see the ACW official standing over the grounded Geordie, who was grimacing as he lay down on the treatment table, and to say it looked grim for Carrahar would be an understatement. His journey to full recovery had gone off the rails. 

“Keegan, how are you?” 

Dunn spoke on behalf of the bruised Briton: “He isn’t good at all. The Physio said he won’t be able to wrestle for the next few weeks at least and that’s if he rests and does everything that he’s told.” 

“I’m sorry Charlie. Vinnie and me were having a heated conversation yet it was only verbal or so I thought until he whacked me and then when I went down my foot and leg just went. It’s one of those freakish incidents.” 

May seemed to sympathize with his co-workers following the unfortunate incident and he wished him well but while Dunn respected that he also required the Double Champion’s services: “Quinton, we now need you. Keegan was going to take on Vincent Pembridge but due to the injury that obviously can’t happen now. So knowing your history with him we’d like to book you in that slot instead. What do you say?” 

Quincy glanced at Carrahar in order to seek some approval: “Keegan, are you alright about that?” 

The Newcastle native nodded his head and gave a thumbs-up: “Weeaye son. You go for it.” 

Charles was happy with the arrangement they’d sorted out and departed leaving the two non-Americans alone to discuss what exactly had occurred though ‘The Yardstick’ had a favour he wanted to ask of him first – to answer the door that had just been rattled. 

He thought nothing of it as Dunn had just left. Nevertheless, as he opened it, he was unpleasantly shocked to see(or rather not to) the door slammed in his face – literally. 

As Quinton gathered his bearings, he looked up to see a fearsome yet familiar figure stand over him with a sickening smile etched on his face. 

Come on. It could only be one Vincent Pembridge. 

“Hello cunts.” 

His countryman was shocked to see him too and tried to get off the table to help the QA Chief but he was too slow to react and instead he found himself on the floor alongside the Television titleholder as the despicable general of the British Army dragged him to the deck. 

Keegan could hardly move and was in a precarious predicament with the vile Vincent on a rampage: “Get up you soft cunt.” 

‘Special K’ resented being called that but there was nothing he could do was there? Or was there? 

In a word – yes. 

Climbing up to one knee, Carrahar hit out... 

At Quincy. 

Seemingly, as boos ensued elsewhere, the Englishmen had been in cahoots all along and how the outstanding Ontarian knew it when the ‘injured party’ adopted a superior stance crouched over him and wailed away at his face with power-packed punches, which after four or five, caused Quinton’s nose to begin bleeding profusely. 

Apparently unfulfilled by what they’d achieved by the set-up, the shamed English exports rammed the defenseless Double Champion; head-first too, into the wall with incredible velocity that ensured the young starlet had a headache and crimson-clustered forehead to go along with a busted nozzle. 

A high-five officially toasted the start of something very special or sadistic depending on which way you look at it. 

ACW World Title Match 
Alias(c) Vs. Ruben Ross

The Crowd was churning... talking about the happenings which had already occurred on this explosive edition of Courage. They were talking about high spots they’d already seen in the night, they were talking about feuds which had exploded forward throughout the show, they talked about how busy a man like Vince Jacobs was this night… crazy mofo, they talked about how this show was in no way “late” (ssssshhhhhh you!), most importantly though... they were talking about the evening’s Main Event.

In case you didn’t know… incase where impervious to the monster hype machine… the mentioning of it on the front page of the website… OR that large title just eight spaces up.

This evening’s main event?

Alias vs. Ruben Ross… so you can start marking out… ummmmm…

NOW.

The opening riffs of “Cult of Personality” by Living Color fill the arena.

Look into my eyes, what do you see?
Cult of Personality
I know your anger, I know your dreams
I've been everything you want to be

Lights dim… and the crowd mummers softly at first… beginning to bustle with excitement. As Living Color’s lead singer continues to sing.

I'm the Cult of Personality
Like Mussolini and Kennedy
I'm the Cult of Personality

A green and yellow under lighting lights up the ramp… green sparks start to slowly drift down from the rafters… and the crowd reaches a fever pitch as one man… one Black Plague… stands stoically in front of the entrance. A wide smile emblazoned across his face. Suddenly the sides and front of the stage where lit up with green and yellow pyros in three consecutive bursts as Ruben Ross walked slowly to the ring… soaking it all in.

BOOM!

Cult of Personality

BOOM!

Cult of Personality

BOOM!

Ross had been a four-time WWRPG Submissions Champion, three-time fWo Cruiserweight Champion, fWo Internet Champion, an fWo World Champion, not to mention the last WWRPG World Champion… and not counting the last 20-ish seconds of last week… this was now his first appearance in ACW. Hurrah. The fans continued to cheer as Ross finally rolled into the ring and raised a fist proudly in the air, his game face now on.

Why all serious all of a sudden?

“Faith” by Linkin Park.

MEGA-CROWD-RUAAHH~!

Cause of that man.

Your World Champion.

Alias came running down to the ring… the World title strapped tightly around his waist, and his usual pyros blasting far behind him. He couldn’t wait… he was in the ring with an old friend, something that was a real rarity these days. At this moment the World Champion was like a kid in a candy store. Still, as a slight nod to Canadian wrestling’s first family Alias wore a black armband around his upper arm that had one name… STU. He unlatched the belt in one quick swoop and held it high in the air for the screaming crowd. He brought it back down and, looking over at Ross, smiled.

“Want to hold this for a sec… check out the weight?”

Ross smiled back.

“Want to check out the weight of the ol’ I Quit strap? I’d be glad to lend it to you for a day or two.”

Alias stopped smiling and Ross chuckled a bit, as Alias handed the ACW World title to the referee. Ross knew right where to hit Alias… right where it would nag him. The ref held the belt in the air verifying that this was indeed a World Championship match.

A World title win is in Ross’s contract, right? Good! Cause this match was on.

DING! DING! DING!

The two opponents circled around the ring, eyeing each other carefully for a few moments, trying to figure out what the other person was planning to do. Eventually, Alias swung out with a haymaker, but Ross ducked it, and grabbed the arm, flipping Alias down onto the canvas. Alias quickly tapped his shoulder, and kipped up, arm wringing Ruben, who didn’t seem that rusty… yet… even after having only wrestled in a dozen or so matches over the last year.

Then, Alias put Ross’s arm behind him, locking him in a hammerlock. Ross elbowed Alias several times in the sternum, which briefly stunned the champion, but he quickly responded with several forearms to the back of Ruben’s head. Ross, however, caught Alias in the face with a backhanded punch. These two where evidently not pulling any punches… and no one expected them to either.

Alias was forced to let go of the hammerlock, and Ruben grabbed Alias’s head, snapmaring him onto the canvas mat. Ross locked on a chinlock, and Alias struggled to break free of the hold. While Ross kneeled over to continue the hold, Alias managed to land a eye gouge, temporarily blinding the challenger, and forcing him to relinquish the basic submission hold.

Alias whipped Ruben into the ropes and ducked upon the return, then stood crouched, waiting for Ross to come from the other side. Ruben Ross, however, foresaw this and slid right under Alias's legs. Alias's fingers grabbed for the Ross's head, but Ruben quickly jumped against the ropes and flew back with a picture-perfect springboard bulldog, driving Alias's face into the canvas.

Ruben attempted a pin, but the referee barely had time to hit his hand against the canvas once before Alias threw his shoulder up. After giving Alias a few boots to the stomach, Ross immediately went to the top rope and sat there, perched in wait. As soon as Alias stumbled to his feet, he noticed that Ruben Ross was nowhere to be seen. Taking note of his opponent's visible confusion, Ross leapt out of the corner with a Bret Hart-esque Missile Dropkick. Sailing through the air he connected. Of course the Calgary crowd went absolutely ape shit.

One.

Two.

Alias kicked out using his leg strength. As Alias recovered himself, Ruben got directly to his feet and charged, gaining momentum from the nearby ropes. Ruben leapt at Alias going for a jumping clothesline, but Alias ducked his head backwards to avoid the blow. Ruben fell to a standing position, as Alias's ducking sent him tumbling onto his back. Alias used his legs again, kicking Ross in the midsection and then monkey flipping him over. Ruben landed on his legs once more, as Alias once again kipped up to a standing position. They each turned around and stared each other down.

To a roar of applause from the Saddle Dome crowd.

A-LI-AS!

RUUUUUUUU-BEN! (Oh yeah… thank ghandi for American Idol. Bastards)

A-LI-AS!

RUUUUUUUU-BEN!

A-LI-AS!

RUUUUUUUU-BEN!

They circled once again before the Black Plaque went for Alias's legs. Alias leapt out of the way to avoid the tackle attempt, and immediately dove on for a front headlock, which Ross powered out to a standing position. Each man with a stalemate and standing now, face to face, Alias raised his right hand to the ceiling for a test of strength.

And Ruben Ross complied. Hell why not. Alias went for the oldest trick in the book however; a boot to the midsection, and Ross caught it with his free hand. Alias fired away with his free left hand, before looking for an inseguri. Ross ducked, and Alias somehow was able to land on his feet. Ruben released the test of strength and locked in another waist lock, Alias reversed that with a waist lock of his own… only for Ross to counter THAT, hooking Alias’s head for a bulldog. Ross ran to the corner, and leapt up into the air. Instead of driving Alias's head down into the canvas, Alias shoved Ruben off and forced him to land on the second rope.

From the turnbuckle, Ross leapt further out onto the ropes…. Lining himself up with Alias as the Pulp Hero stumbled further back into the center of the ring.

It was time for Ruben to pull off some crazy-ass Lucha shite!

Flying corkscrew plancha!

CRUNCH!

Yeah… miss.

Ruben gets up surprisingly quick… though begins doing the Ric Flair flop, his legs still rubber. Alias barrels towards him with a thunderous clothesline to help him on his way, blasting Ross on the neck and knocking him for a loop. With Ross down, Alias mounts him UFC-style and begins unloading with punches to the face. Finally Alias gets off Ruben and slowly brings him to his feet.

Alias then opens up with a series of Muay Thai kicks and knees, blasting Ross over all parts of the body, finally finishing off with a left short kick to the ribs and a roundhouse right kick to the side of the head. Ross stumbles back, and Alias hooks him up and takes him to the mat with a t-bone suplex. With Ross down, Alias makes the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

TH… but Ruben manages to get a shoulder up!

Alias brought Ruben up with a headlock but Ross countered out of the headlock and put Alias into a hammerlock. Ross then reached underneath Alias's chin and put his arm against the Pulp Hero's throat and pulled back. Alias was able to reach his free arm back and grabbed the back of Ruben's head. He gripped the back of his neck and pulled forward. Ruben Ross rolled forward, releasing the Original Pulp Hero completely, and tumbled into the ropes.

Ruben pulled himself up using the ropes, as Alias, himself, got up. Ross and Alias locked up once more. Alias quickly grabbed a side headlock. Ruben attempted to push Alias off to the ropes, but Alias held on tightly. Ruben then tried lifting Alias for a back suplex. But Alias kicked his legs wildly and was able to come back down onto his feet, and took Ruben over in a smooth transition, and held the headlock tightly.

Alias had Ross's head bent upward off the mat, while Ross was laying on his back. Alias was laying on Ross's chest. Ruben was able to turn onto his side and get his knees underneath him. While still in the headlock, Ross reached his arm up underneath Alias's and put him in a half-nelson. Ruben then attempted to squeeze his other arm in between the arm that Alias was using to choke Ross. Ross was able to do so and lock Alias in a full-nelson.

Alias was able to power his right arm free and back elbowed Ross in the mouth. Ruben lost his grip on Alias. Alias then got onto his knees, as Ruben shook off the pain in his face and turned to face Alias while on his knees, too. Alias swung at Ross, but Ross blocked it and then threw a punch of his own. It connected.

Ruben then grabbed Alias and attempted to give him a fireman's carry. Alias, however, locked his legs around Ross's left arm, and grabbed Ross's right arm. He leaned backwards and took Ruben Ross over with a crucifix roll-up.

ONE!

TWO!

KICK-OOOOUT!

Ruben quickly rolled up to his feet and now had no time to hesitate as Alias had already got to his hands and knees so he dropped a quick elbow across Alias's right shoulder, driving Alias back into the mat. Ross sat on Alias's shoulder, and showing no mercy, Ruben yanked back on Alias's right hand, pulling on his wrist. As Ruben pulled away, Alias snaked his free arm through onto Ross's left ankle and yanked it out from under him.

Alias now held onto the ankle as he drove his shoulder into the back of Ruben's knee. As Alias ground the driving pressure in, Ruben began pulling himself across the mat towards the ropes. But before he could reach them, Alias lifted his weight off the knee and pulled back on the ankle, dragging Ruben away from the ropes. Alias cinched up on the leg and grabbed the other leg… he began to go for his version of the famed Sharpshooter… Wake The Devil of course in the process making the Calgary crowd go absolutely nuts, but Ross kicked with the leg that Alias had just grabbed, catching Alias upside the head and breaking clear.

Alias shook his head out… trying mostly just to block out the pain and waited for Ross to get to his feet. When Ruben did, he ran into the opposite ropes and shot back towards the 2001 fWo Wrestler of the Year, who with all the he had left in him leapt up onto Alias's shoulders for a hurricanrana.

Ha, no?

Because Alias quickly snapped the San Diego native to the canvas with an electric chair drop that shook the ring and caused the fans to gasp with awe. Alias stayed on for the cover off of this stellar move.

One!

Two!

Still Alias could only garner a two count, however, he didn't seem to mind, and when he rose to his feet, he hit an elbow drop, driving his elbow right into the base of the Black Plaque’s spine. Alias and pulled Ross to his feet before latching on One Last Hit. Now, those unfamiliar with this hold would note that it’s more or less a full nelson/ camel clutch cross... or for those of you who can remember, simply Boswic’s Silencer. This was not a mere "resthold". Alias was attempting to remove Ross's upper half from his lower half in the most painful manner he can possibly muster. However, Ross was lucky beyond lucky and was able to reach the ropes, with his right foot no less, planting his foot on the bottom rope and forcing the break.

Alias did not give up that easily.

He simply pulled Ross back to the center of the ring and reapplied the hold.

Ruben cried out in pain, as the hold was now truly locked in. He was fading and he was fading fast, but with as much at stake as there was in this contest, there was no way Ruben was giving it up right here. Ruben fought up and eventually managed to wrestle a trapped arm out of Alias's grasp. Ruben quickly managed to catch Alias in the temple with a solid left handed punch, and regaining a good position, snapmared the off-balance Alias over himself, but when he attempted to pull Alias back up, Alias caught him with a palm thrust to the face that sent Ruben to the canvas.

Alias pulled Ruben to his feet, only for Ross to lash out on the Original Pulp Hero landing successive stiff left hands before he caused the crowd to gasp in awe once again by landing a vicious brainbuster in the center of the ring. Ross jumped over and made a cover on the Pulp Hero.

One.

Two.

Kickout.

Ruben brought Alias to his feet and whipped him into the ropes, then took him down coming off with a high angle inverted DDT. Ross held on and went for another cover, but Alias managed to wrap him up and roll him into an inside cradle that got a count of two. Both men got to their feet, and Alias ducked a clothesline from Ruben. Alias jumped into the air and smacked Ruben with a leaping leg lariat, but it was a glancing blow, leaving Ross only dazed and still on his feet. Alias ran into the ropes, and came off with a rolling elbow-smash with incredible force, blasting Ross directly in the face and knocking him to the mat. Alias jumped to cover the downed Ross.

ONE!

TWO!

TH-AHHHH! Kick out!

Alias brought Ross back up to his feet and threw him through the middle rope to the outside. Alias followed him out, then grabbed him by the head and slammed his face into the ring apron. Ross bounced back, and Alias grabbed him. Alias whipped him into the guardrail, knocking it back. Alias then charged at Ruben, but Ruben was recovered enough to sidestep him. Alias's momentum carried him over the guardrail into the crowd, which was, of course, none too kind to him.

Ross reached over and grabbed Alias by the head, then suplexed him over the guardrail to ringside. He brought Alias up and posted him hard, sending Alias stumbling off, dazed. Ruben Ross followed Alias and hooked him up, then drove him into the ground with a snap release German Suplex. Alias looked to be out, and Ruben picked him up and rolled him back into the ring. Ross followed him in, then hooked the leg and made the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-OOOOOOOH! Kick out!

Kickout by Alias. Ruben Ross wasted no time in bringing Wilson back to his feet. He hit him with a couple of forearm shots to the head, then turned him around and double-hooked his arms. Alias fought to get out of  Ruben's grip, but was unable to. Ruben took him up and over, driving him into the mat with a tiger suplex. Ruben held on and bridged up, and once more the referee made the count.

ONE!

TWO!

Once again a kick out from Alias! This time a little bit sooner even as his never say die attitude was now pumping through him at full force. Still, Ruben Ross brought him up and sent several more forearm shots into the head of Alias. Ruben then locked in a cobra clutch and elevated him before swinging with a variation neckbreaker. The crowd once again gasped in shock.

The Darkest Hour.

It was surely shaping up to BE Alias’s darkest hour because instead of going for the pinfall… Ruben knew there was one thing to give these Calgary fans… that would be the nail in Alias’s coffin. Walking around to him feet, Ross quickly grabbed his feet… and with a lot of struggling from Alias, Ross stepped through the legs and turned Alias over.

Fade To Black.

Ruben Ross’s Sharpshooter.

BIG FUCKIN POP~!

Alias struggled in pain… pushing up from it before collapsing back down and scratching at the canvas. He would do this once more before finally gathering the energy to crawl for the ropes. Inch by inch he began getting closer and closer. He was almost there he thought… one more foot… NO. Ross sat back up and pulled Alias BACK into the center of the ring before sitting back down. This was the same sharpshooter that Alias lost his only chance at WWRPG’s submission title… but this just couldn’t be the same sharpshooter that Alias lost his ACW World Championship because of. Once again, releasing his loudest scream of pain yet, he was able to muster even more energy this time. He pushed against Ross’s hold… as Ruben fought to hold it!

REVERSAL!

Wake The Devil!

Alias’s Sharpshooter!

EVEN BIGGER FUCKIN POP~!

Could he hold the sharpshooter though? The Calgary crowd was now most literally tearing the Saddledome apart! Could Alias hold on? Could Alias beat Ruben Ross once and for all? Ross tried to push up from the Sharpshooter but to no avail. He tried to crawl to the ropes but to no avail. The Sharpshooter was still tightly locked in square in the middle of the ring! 

Ross had burnt him self out trying to hold Alias in his Sharpshooter… he didn’t have any juice left, this had been the most physical match since his time in the Asylum. Ross continued to scream out in pain as Alias torqued back on the submission hold. It had to hold… and he would put all his weight behind it to keep it that way.

Ross continued to fight some 30 seconds later… the crowd was still full on into it…. the atmosphere in the Dome was boiling… then Ross just didn’t have any more fight left and hell, he wanted to walk back to be able to walk back to San Diego (actually his private jet and THEN San Diego but who’s counting)… so he knew he had to.

TAP! TAP! TAP!

BIG MONSTER RUAHHH~!!

Alias had won! Alias had retained… and Alias had finally defeated Ruben Ross (without closing down a fed)! The Calgary crowd was on there feet… what a day… what a match… what a huge frigging show. The atmosphere was high and it was about to go down anytime soon. Alias had collapsed to. the mat the moment Ruben Ross had tapped out. He wore a small smirk across his face… as the ref walked over and rested his World title on his chest.

Alias slowly made his way to his feet before extending a had to Ruben. Alias pulled Ruben to his feet and the two men had a quick embrace for the out right stellar match that they had just pulled off. They raised each others hands in the air as Ross pointed to Alias and Alias rose his title belt. All Alias could do was grin… but his night was quite over yet

Winner: Alias

Unexpected

5 minutes later.

After a hectic Courage...the ACW faithful picked up their gear and began to leave...until;

The guitar riff of KoRn's single "Did My Time" ripped into the arena as the fans blew the roof off with their screams. The fans...clearly didn't expect the appearance after the main event, and as the fans rushed back to their seats...

I N F E R N O

A mass amount of pyro and lights bombarded the arena as the United States Champion walked down to the ring with a purpose. He slid into the ring holding his United States Title in his hand while motioning for a microphone with the other hand. The announcer gave the big man a microphone as the crowd quieted down to hear what the big man had to say. 

Inferno did not look happy and people could only speculate why…

“I have had it. Jacobs I don’t appreciate you rooting around my past. I know there have been some disturbing things in my past but that’s all behind me now. That’s why it’s called the past.”

The fans continued to cheer Inferno as he spoke.

“I’m tired of this Vince, why don’t you get your scrawny ass out here now so I can teach you a listen about snooping.”

The fans erupted in cheers as they waited for Vince to answer Inferno’s call. 

“Come on Vince I know you are back there. I know you are still hot because of what happened earlier tonight. Let’s finish this like men, you bitch.”

INFERNO!!
INFERNO!!
INFERNO!!
INFERNO!!
INFERNO!!
INFERNO!!

"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 amidst ‘Ring Superstar’ by Cypress Hill playing in the background. SVJ walked out onto the stage with a microphone in hand as the crowd erupted in boos for the most hated man in ACW.

“Cut the damn music. Dante who do you think you are coming out here and demanding things from me? Do you know who I am?”

Inferno cuts off Vince. “I know who you are Vince. You are nothing more than a sniveling, backstabbing weasel. Let’s cut the bullshit Vince, step into the ring and we can take care whatever grievance you have with me.”

“Grievance I have with you. Inferno I thought you knew why I was doing the things I did. Don’t you know that I am the measuring stick in this business? I am the man in the ACW. Hell even our World Champion is just biding his time in my world. But you know what, you are right I think it is time for me to come down there and teach the so called Hellraiser a thing or two about wrestling.”

The fans were on the edge of their seat as Vince dropped the microphone to the ground and walked slowly to the ring. Inferno dropped his microphone waiting for Vince to step through those ropes. Vince got half way down the ramp and then sprinted to the ring and slid under the bottom ropes.

Inferno was waiting for him as the two men exploded on each other in the middle of the ring. The fans were going wild as a brawl ensued between these two ACW superstars. Inferno overpowered Vince and tossed him into the corner and started to beat SVJ down to the mat. Inferno raised his arms in the air in triumph. 

Inferno picked up Vince and hooked him for a suplex but Vince reversed it and dropkicked Inferno in the knee. Vince jumped onto Inferno and started to pound away on the big man. The fans were cheering Inferno on as Vince continued his onslaught. Suddenly ACW referees and security guards came racing down to the ring to break up the melee between SVJ and Inferno.

The men got into the ring as half of the men held Inferno at bay while the other half held SVJ at bay. This was only the beginning between the two men because the security guards and referees couldn’t stamp out the intensity. The two men wouldn’t quit as Inferno and Jacobs started to throw the referees and security guards out of the ring to get to each other.

Inferno broke free and went right back after Jacobs. The two men at it again. Brian Carter couldn’t take it any more as he stood out on the stage with a microphone in hand.

“You two need to stop this right now. I am not going to allow this to happen in my company.”

The two men didn’t care who was talking, as they didn’t pay Carter any attention. Inferno and SVJ continued to batter each other. Carter had enough as he waved his hand to the back. Suddenly ACW wrestlers came racing out of the ring to hold these two men apart.

Li Xiao…

El Emenopi…

Forme Carlos…

Hillary Small…

These four wrestlers came running down to the ring to hold the two men back. Suddenly more wrestlers came from the back.

CJ Trenton…

DARE…

Tom Maxell…

It still wasn’t enough as Inferno and SVJ still scratched and clawed their way to get to each other hitting and taking down wrestlers in the process. El Emenopi got a stern Superstar Kick to the face from SVJ. Inferno clotheslined Frank Hendrix out of his boots. Carter thought that the wrestlers were going to be able to contain Vince and Inferno but it backfired on Carter. Now these wrestlers were battling in the fray.

The crowd was going crazy as CJ Trenton went right after the big Chinese Li Xiao. Those two men never liked each other since day one stepping into the ACW together. Carter was fuming at the sight of what was going on in that ring. He wanted to restore order but it was now chaos. His wrestlers were fighting each other and Vince and Inferno were still not refrained from each other.

Inferno finally got to Vince and hit him with a big clothesline that sent him over the top rope sprawling to the floor. Vince held his chin as he looked on in the ring. He had enough, as Inferno still wanted more. Inferno got his wish in the form of Tom Maxell who nailed the big man in the back with a hard forearm shot. Inferno quickly turned his attention to Maxell as Vince smiled looking on. Vince was out of the fire or was he…

The fans erupted into the loudest cheers you ever heard as the ACW World Heavyweight Champion came sprinting down the ring and nailed Jacobs in the back with a clothesline sending Vince to the ground. Alias and Vince were no strangers to each other as the champ quickly pounced on his biggest rival.

Vince made it to his feet to see Alias and his eyes turned a bloodshot red as he tackled Alias to the ground. The two men rolled on the ground but suddenly from out of nowhere the number one contender to the World Title, Khristain Keller came down for one reason….ALIAS. The boo's mounted as Keller strolled down to the ring amongst the ruckus, his only intention was the man whom held the gold.

Keller grabbed Alias off of Vince and started to put the boots to the champ. Jacobs quickly got to his feet and started to help Keller stomp on Alias, which brought out Jason Kain to help his friend. Kain knocked down both Jacobs and Keller. He helped up Alias and both men went toe to toe with Keller and Jacobs.

This night was not over when Vincent Pembridge came from the back and went right after Jason Kain. He took Kain out from behind with a steel chair. It was a huge brawl unlike anything ever seen before in ACW. The entire ACW locker room emptied out into the arena from Keegan to Liam. Every single wrestler on the payroll was out in the arena in one huge brawl. The fans loved it. Carter hated it. Another man was also enjoying the festivities from the stage.

Ruben Ross looked on with a smile on his face…

Jacobs finally broke away from the fray but unnoticed to him Inferno had broken out of the ring and was looking for Vince. Vince was crawling up the ramp away from everyone. Inferno saw this and ran after Vince. Every wrestler continued to brawl as Vince tried to get away from Inferno.

On a night that saw Alias take on Ruben Ross for the ACW World Heavyweight Champion…

The night ended with a brawl started by Jacobs and Inferno and ended with the entire ACW Locker room emptied. 

The next thing you may ask would be…

What is ACW going to do next week with the world's eyes watching all over again?

Exactly the same they've been doing for the past year...moving up the ladder in professional wrestling.