Thursday, April 29th 2004
Broadcasting LIVE! from Chicago, Illinois at 10/9 p.m. CT
Thursday, April 29th 2004
Broadcasting LIVE!
from Chicago,
Illinois at 10/9 p.m. CT
|
THE
FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS
NOT AIRED
"OK,
I've called this
meeting more or less
to try and learn about
that debacle of a show
last week." William
Laguna sat on his
throne, with his two
heirs, Hillary Duncan
and Adam Kent sitting
in front of him. Last
week could be
described in many
ways. Dire. Appalling. Grim. Dismal. Dreadful. Horrible. Frightful. Disastrous. Those
just being a few. "Hillary,
I would like to know
who scheduled the
Alias interviews, and
didn't manage to put
enough security at the
ramp." Hillary
sat with her head down
low, her chin almost
touching her chest. "That
would be me." "What
about mix up of the
matches?" "Me
also." "The
referee's not knowing
about the match?" Adam
Kent suddenly perked
up, as he mentally
began to answer
Laguna's rant... "Me." He
was suddenly taken
aback by the answer,
and Laguna watched on
as Kent kept his eyes
on her, and not on
him. "Adam,"
his eyes now on
Laguna. "What was
your take on the
referee mix up?" The
moment of truth. "I
didn't really know
anything about it
until a referee came
to be about Hillary's
mistake." Duncan's
morale dropped even
lower, if that was
possible, as Kent
answered like a
professional...and a
professional liar. "Adam
can you excuse us,
please?" As
Kent left, he couldn't
help but feel that she
would tell all behind
his back. "Hillary,
what about the missing
tape, can you tell me
anything about
that?" Duncan
looked up at him. A
tear fell from her
eye. "It
was my fault." Laguna's
heart sank. "Then
I'm afraid I will have
to restriction your
jobs over the next few
weeks until I can deem
you fit to work again,
I'm sorry." She
tried, to hold back
the stream of
tears." "Is
there...anything
else?" "No,
that's it, you...take
the rest of the night
off." She
quickly exited the
room... And
as she closed the
door, she rested her
body on it's
sturdiness, and slowly
slipped down, the
tears now running down
her cheek. It
was her chance to
stand up for herself,
but she failed. And
now she believed she
could never restore
Laguna's faith in her.
Put THIS In Your Pipe and Smoke It
The neatly pressed black shirt sported white stitched letters reading ‘I Beat Rome the Vile’ across the chest was wrapped around his fairly muscular chest.
The Arrival of One
The entrance doors backstage opened in fashion.
THE
FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS
NOT AIRED
The street was quiet for that time of day; the sun had only recently gone down.
Signing Your Own Death Certificate
“’Cos I’m T-N-T… I’m Dy-No-Mite!!!!”
T-T-That Was
Awkward
So, another night of debauchery amongst the employees of ACW.
No-Man's
Land Chronicles,
Part One
"Hello, sir, I've been told to come out and
meet you here, Mr. Laguna doesn't want a repeat of last week." Alias
closed the boot of his
vehicle and looked and
the security guard
directly in the
retina...making sure
firstly that he was
legit, and also that
he was telling the
truth, you could never
be too careful these
days. Maybe
it was too much 24... "Laguna
doesn't want a repeat
of what exactly? From
my eyes it was just
two old friends
getting reacquainted." The
guard kept straight
laced, as Alias began
to move towards the
arena, followed
closely by the young
man, as the question
lingered, it seemed
that the young man was
saved by his employer
who now stood in the
doorway of the arena. "William..." "Alias..." As
Laguna opened the door
for one of his main
stars, he quickly
caught up with the
former ACW Champion as
he directed him to his
locker room. "There
will be security
outside your door at
all times, and there
will also be security
outside of
SilverHAWK's room
also, I can't have the
two of you destroying
each other before it
even gets started can
I." Laguna
was right, two well
dressed young men at
either side of the
door, real looking
pro's. "You're
the boss." And
with that, he entered
his dungeon for the
night, not knowing
what surprises it was
going to bring, if
any. Grudge
Match Ahh,
it was time for a
match.
The
house lights dimmed
and the ever-popular "Numb"
by Linkin Park
began to blare over
the sound system. Now,
while the song may be
popular, the man who
came out from behind
the curtains wasn't,
and an inordinate
torrent of jeering
immediately washed
down upon the one and
only LANCETT.
And
remember, Lancett
doesn't like being
called Randy.
Decked
out as usual in his
black and yellowish
tights with black
boots, Lancett
sauntered down the
ramp with a slight
smirk on his face. In
just a few short
weeks, the ACW
following had found
themselves despising
Lancett's attitude,
while being impressed
by his in-ring
ability. Cliched?
Perhaps, but Lancett
was slowly making a
name for himself, and
that's all that
mattered to the man
most called 'Rook'.
Climbing
into the ring, Lancett
pushed past the
referee and made his
way to the corner of
the ring, jawing at
couple of the fans.
Making sure to remind
them that he used to
be the Rising Star
Champion of hWo.
Obviously, Lancett
thinks that matters in
ACW, because we all
know that there's only
one ACW Rising Star.
Coincidentally
enough, that man has
been somewhat involved
in a relationship with
Lancett's opponent for
the evening.
Maybe
you know her from
theAsylum?
As
Lancett's theme song
faded out, "Lucky
You"
by the Deftones
was next up on the
DJ's list, and Fejona
Min quickly appeared
on the stage. Sporting
wounds from previous
battles over in tA and
in ACW itself.
Nonetheless, the
Cambodian Femme Fatale
was one woman who
didn't give up easily,
and despite lossess in
previous matches, she
was back for more.
With
half the watching
world still debating
over why she'd decided
to compete in ACW.
Fejona
-- donning a *tight*
white tanktop with
short sleeves, black
silk pants, and
sporting no footwear
at all -- wasted no
time in climbing into
the ring. Lancett,
being a man, naturally
took the time to check
her out. But on the
other hand, he was
gleefully rubbing his
hands. He figured an
easy victory was on
the horizon.
And
with all systems go,
the referee rang for
the bell.
*
DING DING DING *
Fejona
and Lancett were
standing in opposite
corners of the ring,
taking the time to
plan last-minute
strategy. But once the
crowd began to roar
and make some NOIZE,
the two locked eyes,
giving each other a
good look-over. In
that competitive
sense, of course. A
couple of seconds
passed by before they
approached each other,
crouching. Each
waiting for the other
to make the first and
crucial move.
How
funny. They ended up
in a tie-up.
A
struggle of epic
proportions ensued
(not really), and
unsurprisingly,
Lancett's more toned
physique saw him come
out of the tie-up with
a side headlock. And
as if to emphasise to
Fejona that male power
rocks, he wrenched
down on the Cambodian
Femme Fatale's head
hard. Not a very smart
thing to do, as the
Asylum Women's
Champion retaliated
with a reverse elbow
shot.
Staggering
backwards, Lancett
grimaced at the power
of the elbow shot to
his ribs, but before
he could even blink,
Fejona had applied a
rear waistlock.
Growling, it was
Lancett's turn to lash
out with a elbow shot,
catching the
Enchanting Delinquent
in the face, before he
sneaked around Fejona,
wrapping HIS arms
around her slender
waist.
Cursing
at Lancett's seamless
ability to counter
effectively, Fejona
once again used her
elbow to good use.
Lancett's face was
soon swelling up as a
result of THREE elbow
shots, but more
importantly, his grip
on Fejona's waist had
diminished.
With
that, Fejona reached
down and gave Mr Kid
Frost a moment of
sheepish happiness,
her ass buried in his
crotch. Not for long,
as Fejona Min swept
out Lancett's right
leg from under him.
Before he knew it,
Lancett had crashed
down to the canvas,
and his neck was
tightening up on him.
"SON
OF A BITCH!" he
screamed for some
reason. Kids, make
Lancett your role
model today.
Fejona
Min flicked strands of
her ethereal hair out
of her eyes and shot
herself into the
ropes, possibly hoping
to score with an elbow
drop. Instead, she
found herself
leapfrogging over
Lancett, who'd rolled
on his belly and
towards the ropes, in
a bid to avoid getting
hit on the mat. This
also helped Kid Frost
to regain his vertical
balance, but as he
turned to greet Fejona
with a right hand, the
Asylum Women's Champ
had a surprise for
him.
In
the form of an
inch-perfect
hurricaranna, of
course. Someone's been
training.
The
crowd applauded the
move, which put a
smile on Fejona's face
as she reached across
and hooked Lancett's
legs. The referee
dropped to his knees,
stole a glance at
Min's rack, then
counted;
ONE.
TWO.
THR
- SHOULDER UP!
It
almost got
embarrassing for
Lancett, but
thankfully for his
six-member fanbase,
the Rookie kicked out.
Fejona shook her head
as she pulled Lancett
up, chopping him
across the chest a
couple of times,
before kicking him in
the lower abdominals
and whipping him into
one of the four
turnbuckle corners.
Unfortunately
for her, Lancett
reversed it.
And
put a lot of power
behind it, because the
Enchanting
Delinquent's spine
made sickening contact
with the turnbuckle.
So much so that she
stumbled out of the
corner just a half a
second later.
This
allowed Lancett to
score with a perfect
standing dropkick, the
smug smile back on his
face as he used the
ropes to help himself
up. Staring down at
Fejona, Lancett
actually laughed,
before crouching down
and pulling the Asylum
fighter up by her
hair. That bastard,
daring to mess up her
beautiful hair. Tsk
tsk.
With
his ever-growing
confidence, Lancett
clocked his opponent
with a barrage of
right hands, before
deciding that an Irish
whip was in order.
Fejona, now on the
backfoot, was still
alert enough to catch
Lancett doubling over
on the video wall.
Obviously, timing of
back body drops wasn't
one of his strong
points.
He
found that out the
hard way, when Min
floored him with a
swinging neckbreaker
as she bounced off the
ropes.
So...
uhhh, cover? You got
it;
ONE.
TWO.
THR
- ANOTHER CLOSE ONE!
Don't
you love it when
momentum sways from
one person to the
other in a match?
Makes things exciting,
yes? I think so too.
Anyways, Fejona shook
her head and Lancett
rolled away, the
former believing she'd
managed to upset Mr
Kid Frost. The crowd
were surprisingly on
Min's side now, as she
reached over and
grabbed Lancett by the
hair.
Ah
ha, payback.
The
Enchanting Delinquent
had more in store than
hair pulling. Like,
firstly, a throat
thrust. Then a kick to
the ribs.
Then,
the pick-up for a
vertical suplex.
Naturally, Lancett's
superior weight
advantage posed a
slight problem for
Fejona but she managed
to get him off the mat
anyways. The
hestitation allowed
Lancett to regain his
bearings, and he
instantly floated
over, slapping on a
rear waistlock as he
landed on his feet.
German
suplex? No, but thanks
for trying.
Instead,
Lancett -- who's known
for focusing on one
body part of his
opponent during
matches but clearly
not tonight -- struck
with a devastating
back-to-side slam.
Almost crushing poor
Fejona under his own
weight.
And
as if that wasn't
enough, the Rookster
applied a grounded
headlock on the Asylum
Women's Champion,
while his eyes rested
on the deliciously
firm arse of Fejona
Min. The referee too
was being perverse,
rubbing his crotch,
but he WAS doing his
job. Asking if Fejona
wanted to give up.
Min
couldn't answer, with
her face pressed down
to the canvas and all.
Lancett
wasn't looking for a
submission victory,
however, and he
documented that when
he rose to his feet.
Pulling Fejona up with
him. Seconds later, he
had the Callous Slayer
in the air, showing
her how to execute a
suplex but taking the
time to stall. For
added effect, of
course. Once he was
sure enough of Fej's
blood had rushed to
her head, he planted
her with the suplex.
The audience? Didn't
like it.
Those
fickle bastards. Don't
know a good move when
they see it. Hmph.
Nevertheless,
Lancett made the pin
and the referee
counted;
ONE.
TWO.
THR
- NO!
Somehow,
Fejona Min had managed
to kick out. This
didn't go down well
with Lancett, who
stupidly decided to
argue with the
referee, before he
returned his attention
to the Cambodian Femme
Fatale. Again, he
pulled her up by the
hair, and clocked her
with a harsh forearm
shot, before shooting
her into the ropes.
This time, Fejona
couldn't pull out a
magnificient counter
out of her bag of
tricks.
Nuh
uh. Lancett had learnt
from his mistakes, and
as such, decked Min
with a jumping knee
smash. The spectators
jeered more than
usual, mainly because
they'd been reminded
of that glory-hogging
bastard in the WWE who
made the jumping 'high
knee' famous. Ahem.
But that's besides the
point.
And
right about now,
Lancett was beside
himself. For when I
was jibbering about
absolute bollocks,
Lancett saw his
attempt at a follow-up
pump handle slam on
Fejona Min thwarted.
Min squirmed out of
the move midway, and
actually utilised a
backslide. A
backslide! Nobody uses
that anymore!
Shrugging
his shoulders, the
referee dropped to his
knees and made the
count;
ONE.
TWO.
THR
- NO!
Yet
again, Lancett saved
himself from a ton of
shame as he eased out
of the pinning
predicament, and
furiously swung his
arm at Fejona Min as
the two competitors
got back to their
feet. Min ducked and
struck with a spinning
heel kick, inciting
quite a pop from the
crowd. Shocking, I
know.
What
was more shocking was
Lancett getting up
just seconds later,
and being planted with
a double-arm DDT!
The
Cambodian Femme Fatale
was on fire (OUCH!
HOT! SEE?), and she
wasn't about to let
her slim advantage
wither away. She
kipped to her feet and
decided against making
the cover. Instead,
she took a split
second to survery the
situation, before she
ran towards the
turnbuckle and made
herself famous.
For
hitting a split-legged
moonsault.
...
Correction. For
spectacularly MISSING
a split-legged
moonsault.
Enraged
as he was, the
Rookster managed to
roll out of harm's
way, and now, the two
competitors of the
match were plastered
to the canvas, trying
to catch their breath.
Viewers at home cursed
as it was time for
commercials, but all
the lucky bastards in
attendance didn't have
to sit through that.
Instead,
they watched as both
Fejona and Lancett
recovering. Instantly,
Fejona tried to strike
Lancett down with a
spinning backfist but
Mr Kid Frost ducked
and countered,
decimating the
Obstinate Assassin
with a tilt-a-whirl
sideslam. Gotta admit,
the kid has some nice
moves.
Then,
Lancett went on to
prove he has some
GREAT moves.
With
Fejona Min laid out in
the middle of the
ring, Lancett rushed
over to the ropes,
jumped onto the middle
one, then up onto the
top one. Following
which, he somersaulted
backwards gracefully,
and dropped a
fantastic legdrop
right down on the
Cambodian Femme
Fatale's neck!
Ladies
and gents (except for
those at home; they
didn't get to see
this), start up the
HOLY SHIT chants.
Wait,
maybe after the cover.
It had to be over,
many thought;
ONE.
TWO.
THREE
- NOOOOOOOOO!
They
thought wrong.
And
Lancett had officially
snapped. If a
double-springboard
somersault legdrop
couldn't finish off
the Asylum Women's
Champ, what would? I
would look at the
previous matches
Fejona has had in ACW,
you dummy, since she's
lost ALL of them.
An
animated argument with
the referee quickly
dissolved, and Lancett
quickly resumed his
attack on Fejona Min,
who'd staggered to her
feet, gasping for air
and unable to believe
what Lancett had
mustered up moments
ago. She didn't have
much time to reflect,
as Lancett's fists
began pounding her
face in, before he
whipped her into the
ropes and got ready.
...
For a sleeper hold.
Hey,
people still do use
it, you know!
Immediately,
Fejona Min shifted her
body weight to the
side and tried to
counter with a
belly-to-back suplex,
but Mr Kid Frost
expertly landed on his
feet just as the
viewers at home got
through with the
commercials, and once
again, Lancett slapped
on the sleeper hold on
Fejona Min.
And
as Fej struggled,
viewers were treated
to replays of
Lancett's astounding
aerial assault
earlier.
Then,
in fashion reminiscent
of Bret Hart,
theAsylum's Women's
Champion dragged her
body towards the
turnbuckle just before
unconsciousness seeped
in, before voluntarily
dropping to her knees.
This caused Lancett's
face to taste the
turnbuckle, and he
staggered backwards
a'la Ric Flair.
Guess
what happened next?
That's
right. He fell down,
and the crowd cheered.
The referee, on the
other hand, started up
a count. Since both
competitors were down
and out, and all. But
he barely got to two
before Fejona used the
ropes to help herself
up, and a mere two
seconds later, Lancett
was also on his feet.
Two
seconds after that,
Lancett had to duck
another spinning heel
kick from Fejona Min,
and utilised a
tilt-a-whirl once
again. This time,
however, as the whirl
was complete and Mr
Kid Frost looked set
to put the Cambodian
Femme Fatale away with
a reverse DDT, Fejona
sneaked a low-blow in,
undetected by the
referee.
Because
he's ghey, and stuff.
With
Lancett now at her
mercy, Fejona decided
it was time to wrap
things up.
She
slapped on a front
facelock, lifted Mr
Kid Frost off the
canvas halfway and
suspended him there
for a while. Then
jerked Lancett upward
a bit more, before
forcefully twisting
while slamming him to
the canvas. Upon
impact, her right knee
crashed into Lancett's
groin and her right
forearm bore down on
opponent's face.
You
may call this, SAGACITY
01.
And
the referee had the
honour of counting
down to Fejona Min's
first victory in ACW;
ONE.
TWO.
THREE.
....
NOOOOOOOO!
As
unbelievable as it
was, Lancett actually
got the shoulder up.
He'd survived!
The
crowd were pissed. Not
as pissed as Fejona
was, but you get the
idea. Min got to her
feet and confronted
the referee, who'd
maintained that the
Rookster had saved
himself in the nick of
time.
Frustrated,
Min turned around,
despondent about the
fact that she hadn't
been able to put
Lancett away. Her
brief confrontation
with the referee now
proved to be an
adverse choice, for
Lancett had recovered
and dug his
fingernails into
Fejona's waist, before
exploding off the
canvas with an
uppercut. Min
staggered back, and
the Rookster followed
up with a quick Irish
whip, desperate to
regain some pride.
And
that he did, with a
mightly flapjack!
Which
was followed by a
sneaky La Magistral
cradle pin, which took
Fejona by surprise;
ONE.
TWO.
THRE
- OOOOH, CLOSE!
The
Cambodian Femme Fatale
managed to muster up
enough energy to roll
out of the pinning
predicament, and the
two were once again on
their feet. Lancett
yet again tried for a
clothesline, but as
before, couldn't
connect.
Turning
around didn't prove to
be a wise choice, as
the Enchanting
Delinquent almost
KILLED him with a
jumping roundhouse
kick. It didn't floor
Lancett; instead, it
knocked him into the
ropes, albeit with not
that much power that'd
warrant Mr Kid Frost
to bounce off them.
But, he did stumble
back into Min's path.
Who
was waiting, and eager
to hit her finisher
again.
Facelock
-> half lift ->
jerk -> full lift
-> ... uh oh. UH
OH.
Lancett
floated over, landed
on his feet, waited
for Fejona Min to turn
around. Then? Then, he
kicked her in the gut,
and finished her off
with a sickening
sitout DDT. You may
call it: LEGACY
ENDER.
This
was as good as over;
ONE.
TWO.
THREE.
...
Even
better. It was over.
The
bell rung, and Lancett
jumped to his feet,
relieved, while "Numb"
by Linkin Park
started up again. The
crowd started up their
maniacal jeering and
hissing once again,
but the Rookster
wouldn't be denied,
and wouldn't let the
fans tarnish his hard
work.
Yes,
he'd been to the edge
and back in this
match. But he'd won.
Fejona
Min, meanwhile,
remained winless.
Awww, poor thing.
Excels at fighting,
but fails at
wrestling.
Boo
fucking hoo,
Lancett thought.
Boo
fucking hoo.
No-Man's
Land Chronicles,
Part Two
SilverHAWK had been working hard ever since he laid down the challenge so to
speak, and you could see it as he arrived in the arena for the evening. Vein visibility
had increased all over the Champion's body as he tried to get himself in peak
physical condition for the PPV match at Revival. But there was still that one flaw in the
gladiators body. The right knee. However, the less he seemed to focus on it, the
less he found a problem with it, and that worked for him. HAWK
made his way past the first arena attendant before dropping his kit back and
looking at the run-sheet for the night. "When are these fuckers gonna give me a
chance to run off some rust..." was all he could muster, as the matches
were laid bare on the typed out sheet of paper, but before anymore self-involved
thoughts could roam his mind, a large hand was placed on his shoulder. Instinct. That was what lead the owner of that hand to end
up in a head on the floor, but as HAWK turned around, he witnessed an army of
badges, all of which had their eyes glued on the champ. "What the hell is going on here?" "Aaron, please calm down." From the shadows he emerged, the owner of ACW,
William Laguna. "Laguna, what's the need for all
this?" Laguna made his way to the front of the queue,
as he stood in front of his champion. "Aaron, it seems to me that both yourself
and Alias want to rip pieces out of one another, well...I sure as hell won't
allow you two to destroy each other before the PPV, this federation needs a
successful one, and to do that, we need you two topping the card. Come on HAWK,
you once ran this federation, surely you would be doing the same?" Aaron smirked. "All you have to do is ask Laguna, I'm sure
I have enough self control to cool my jets for two weeks, anyway, for once this
is a grudge which isn't personal, it's about pride, and about seeing who should
really have the 20 pounds of gold that sits in my bag." Laguna looked happy. "Well make sure that
it stays that way Aaron, but for now, these gentlemen will take you to your
dressing room for tonight, and we should have something for you by the end of
the night." As SilverHAWK was escorted to his locker room,
he remembered the hell that he had had during his small time in running the
federation, and how it related to being part of the federation as a wrestler. He would take wrestling any day of the week.
THE
FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS
NOT AIRED
“Where are you Abbey?”
THE
FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS
NOT AIRED
The red door swung open, slamming hard against the brick wall littered with posters for events that have long since passed. A man, a little drunk, wearing a gray suit jacket stumbled out into the back alley, loud techno music blaring behind him. Streams of creamy smoke rose up from the ceiling within and glided along the brick wall, fading away as it climbed.
Is He Smoking Rocks?
“Yeah, well, remember that time I took the dive for you… And I said you could pay me back later…” Geo was on a cell-phone with someone. “Yeah, well, I think I found a way you could pay me back… It looks like I need to find a tag team partner by the end of the night and…” There was a pause. “Ooohhh thanks a million man. I owe you… I so owe you… Yeah, yeah… Get here quick though. Ok, yeah. Cool. Ok, later.” Geo flipped his phone off and set it aside.
THE
FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS
NOT AIRED
“Lancett you think you are the next big thing? You think you should be an impact player and interfere in my matches, talk trash to me, disrespect my roots?”
Close Encounters of the Interruptive Kind
Ruben Davis walked around backstage in his street clothes. He was looking for Chris Messiah, though he pondered around with no idea of where he could find his dressing room, which was obviously where he’d be located seeing as he was supposed to have an off night. But Ruben was tired of wandering around, so he stopped, and decided to ask a few employees on where he might be able to find Chris.
If He Only Knew
‘I Beat Rome the Vile’
THE
FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS
NOT AIRED
He
was settled for the
evening. Bag
in the corner,
everything was out
that needed to be. A
small TV in the
corner, showing
whatever, it didn't
matter, as long as
there was some sort of
ambient noise to keep
his mind from noticing
the silence, he was
happy. Alias,
sat in the corner of
the room, his head
resting in between the
meeting of the two
walls, thinking. Last
week had been a huge
moment in his
activities with
SilverHAWK, because
for the very first
time, he was face to
face in an aggressive
tone with SilverHAWK,
something that had
never gone down before
without on or the
other ending up on the
floor due to a quick
shot. But
suddenly...Alias'
trail of thought was
broken. As
the sound of running
water got him up from
his seated position,
he moved over to the
shower room door,
which seemed to be
where the noise was
coming from, and with
it being a shower
room, the possible
prime candidate for
running water... He
walked over silently,
and slowly opened the
door, but as he looked
in, he couldn't quite
believe who he was
looking at. He walked
into the shower room,
the water was nowhere
near his feet but
already the stream was
filling the white
tilled area, where now
only two men stood. Alias
watched on as the man
turned around, an
instant frown graced
his face. "What
the hell are you
doing?" Alias
asked, as the steam
began to harm his view
of the man's face. "What
the fuck does it look
like I'm doing?" Suddenly
the man was about 5
feet from Alias, a
towel wrapped around
his waist as emotions
gathered... Alias. SilverHAWK. An
empty room. An
infinity of possibilities.
Grudge
Match
There was no special lighting or fireworks to introduce Ruben Davis. Just ‘Black and White’ by Static-X. Ruben stepped past the curtains and stood just beyond the entrance. He stopped half way between the entrance and the ring. Before ripping his shirt off, he glanced around at the fans. This was the first time he had ever encountered an adrenaline rush such as the one he was experiencing now. But after he glanced around the small arena, Ruben ripped his shirt off with ease, and once it was off, his true form was seen. WINNER : Ruben Davis
THE
FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS
NOT AIRED
SilverHAWK made his way to a small wooden bench at the side of the shower
room, and sat down. Steam rose from the near boiling water as it sat, resting
still on the bathroom tiles until Alias disturbed a puddle in the centre of the
room, being the first one to break the small silence. "You gotta love this huh, hire all those
suits to separate us, and then don't even bother to see if we're in a shared
shower room." HAWK smiled. "Half assing things as always..." Another eerie silence crept into the room as
they had both said their piece. Enemies to the human eye. Old friends to the experienced. Alias put his weight on the back wall as
SilverHAWK wrapped his towel round his neck, his other covering his lower half. "So...why?" "Why what?" HAWK questioned back. "Why Keller?" It
had been eating at him
for months. "Heh, I've told you and everyone else
before, if it wasn't for me going with Keller, I wouldn't be here today." "You had options HAWK, don't gimme the crap
that he was your only chance..." Alias was answered with a sigh of weariness, and
maybe boredom of the same old answer to the question. "What's done is done Chris, Keller is in
the past, from what I know he's some sort of crack whore now. It's not my fault
that most of these fans are in the dark about what goes on around here." Alias wasn't finished. "All those fans, all of those guys who had
supported you through all the bad times and the good, and you just screw them
all without a thought? It was never about your job here HAWK, you enjoyed
it." "Listen here," HAWK's tone grew a
little more serious. "Those fans are the ones who were making noises
about keeping me here in ACW, but what did they actually do? Nothing. One
day Chris, you will learn that actions speak a lot louder than words, you can
talk as much crap as you want about someone, but at the end of the day if you
can't get that job done, you are the one who is made the fool out of...and I'm
no fool." SilverHAWK leaned back, the cold harsh tiles
sending temperature shocks up his spine. Alias looked on, his attention taken to a
tripping shower head. This conversation was far from over...
You Ain’t Nuttin!
Earlier
tonight… Lancett
didn’t talk trash,
but he brought hWo
with him.
“Me
and you, one on one,
one night, get
ready…” “HOLYSHIT!”
“HOLYSHIT!” Lancett
kicked Ramey right in
the face.
“Mother
fucker!”
Ladies
and Gentleman...Mr.
Messiah Would Like A
Word, Or Two
And now for the good part of the show. Perfect Stranger’s “Deep Purple” erupted throughout the arena, and Phil Atken wandered out from behind the curtain. He received typical bad-boy heat on the way to the ring, etc., etc.
THE
FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS
NOT AIRED
“Rise and shine.”
The
First Warning...
"October 14th, 1981. He was raised high, sheltered by the arms of his mother and father, and was from then on seen as their love child."
Worries
He
turned on the Verizon powered cell phone. It flashed; he had a message. He flipped through the folders and various options that came with the phone before he reached the message section.
THE
FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS
NOT AIRED
"Listen
man...I've got shit to
do today, I'm sure you
have also, say what
you've gotta say and
then we can get to
business." It
was HAWK who started
the conversation this
time, as after the
previous conversation
nothing had went on
other than some small
talk about William
Laguna and the other
about Osyrus' stint in
theAsylum, a place
that neither man
seemed impressed with. "I
wanna set something
straight with you
HAWK, I never left ACW
after the TV
collapse." HAWK
scoffed. "You
forgot that I'm on the
board Chris, and you
also forget that I was
one of the fucking top
dogs in running the
place after the TV
went down, to try and
get us back to the old
touring days, I've
seen your file." "Then
it's wrong." It
was a wild accusation
from Alias, but there
was something in that
line that increased
HAWK's attention for
the story. "Go
on then champ..." Mind
games... "After
the deal was pulled,
Carter got me into his
office and more or
less said that I
should be looking for
another federation
over the Christmas
period." "That's
because your contract
was too
expensive." "No,
I offered to
renegotiate." HAWK
seemed puzzled. "Then
why the fuck didn't
you?" And
then it came out. "Carter
said he didn't need me." SilverHAWK
rubbed his chin in
deep contemplation,
trying to put together
the pieces before
ACW's demise last
November, and the
heated discussion that
he had about allowing
the champion to leave
in the first place,
which seemed a common
theme in the
organisation, firstly
ICU and then Alias. "Carter
said to me that to
launch the product as
a touring company he
couldn't have talent
being on TV shows
promoting others, at
the time I was in
Action, and was
talking to WWC, and he
didn't like the fact
that I would be on TV
with them one week,
and wouldn't be able
to carry around the
ACW title as the
champion, that was his
reasoning
anyway." HAWK
still had a comeback
however. "How
could you take that? You
were ACW Champion and
you gave that up
without a fight?" Alias
sighed, memories of
his struggle with
Carter didn't seem to
be very pleasant
memories. "There
was just a point were
I just had to let it
go...Carter wasn't
listening, and he
wasn't giving me time
to speak to Boyd,
there was nothing I
could do. I couldn't
even go to
you..." And
so the story was
revealed. A
turn of events which
now led them to this
very town, in the
situation that they
currently sit. But
what now?
scorpionFIGHTING Title Bout
Alright, then. It'z tyme. Time, I mean. For a match. A brawl, rather. The announcer, who has a sore throat, would like everyone to know that this Scorpion Fighting Title bout is scheduled to compete under the 'William Laguna' doctrine -- that is, either via pinfall (where one person is limited to making use of SIX attempts to secure a pinfall victory) OR over-the-top-rope elimination. Comprehend? Need proof? See; April 01 2004, Devin Bastian versus Quinton May. With that said, let's get this bitch underway. * DING DING DING * The crowd had been informed that there was going to be a Scorpion Fighting Title bout going down, but they had no idea who would be challenging the Rising Star for one of his two titles. Speaking of whom, breaking tradition, "Make A Move" by Lostprophets started to play over the speakers. The crowd began to erupt, but 17 seconds into the song, the lights in the arena were cut. Now, excitement gripped every single person in the stands, as they counted down to the second where they'd be able to witness the Rising Star of the company appearing before their very eyes. 32 seconds into the song, red and white pyrotechnics lit up the arena. KA - BOOOOM So
are we lost or do we
know? Because
every day we're
getting older. WAKE
UP! Yeah,
so tired of waiting... WAKE
UP! Yeah,
so sick of waiting... And there he was, folks. Quinton May. Having come out just a while ago to break up a melee, May was back out, sans leather jacket and with his Scorpion Fighting Title wrapped around his waist. He wasted no time at all in climbing into the ring, unhooking his title belt and tossing it to the referee. Needless to say, Quincy wasn't pleased. The situation with Phil Atken and Chris Messiah was spiralling out of control. Furthermore, he now knew who was behind the attack and subsequent crucifixion a couple of weeks ago - The Entertainment Saviour himself, Phil Atken, had masterminded the whole thing. Adding to the fact that he'd practically organised a backstage beatdown on Chris Messiah a number of weeks ago. Slowly but surely, Atken was growing to become ACW's Public Enemy NUMERO UNO~! Back to the real-time action, folks; Quinton was pacing up and down, cracking his knuckles, eager to find out who exactly his opponent was. Eager to unleash some frustrations out on whoever had been lined up to fight him. The crowd were excited as well. Until... .... well, wow. Talk about a shocking turn of events. Laguna must have been drunk. "Perfect Strangers" by Deep Purple had started to play over the sound system, and Quinton May froze dead center in the middle of the ring. As if to emphasise that there was no tomfoolery going on backstage, the video wall lit up with Atken's raunchy and X-rated entrance video. PHIL ATKEN WAS QUINTON'S OPPONENT? The Canadian Gladiator was furious. Incensed. He rushed over to the ropes and screamed out to the back, calling for Atken to come out. Since it was ol' Phil he was going to face, Quinton figured this would be a chance for revenge. Made sense, right? Right. The fans thought so too, even if they did think something weird was going on. Then, something weird and absolutely unprecedented DID happen. You wouldn't have believed it, trust me. Phil Atken jumped out from the crowd with a steel chair, slid into the ring, charged at Quinton May, and with the nastiest smirk in the history of evil smirks, clocked Quincy May upside the head with the chair. This resulted in Quincy being tumbled over the ropes and out of the ring. And as such, the referee rang for the bell. What? What? What? You read correctly. The hawk-eyed referee rang for the bell. Phil Atken had won the Scorpion Fighting Championship, just like that. Annnd, the crowd were absolutely silenced. Stunned. None more so that Quinton May, of course, but he was on the ground, holding his head in agony and realisation of what had just transpired. The Smartest Man In Wrestling had just proved his smartness. He'd just *SCREWED* Quincy Mama. With a shriek that reminded people of Kurt Angle's girlish screams for joy back in 1999/2000, Phil Atken danced around the ring with his chair, before the referee thrusted the title into his possession. With tears streaming down his cheek, Phil Atken tossed the chair aside and dropped to his knees, kissing his new championship. One he could now hold with pride, along with his beloved A! Championship. That's when Quinton May arose and slid back into the ring, a vile gash having surfaced in the back of his head. Needless to say, the Canadian Gladiator had been robbed and he wasn't quite pleased about it. Before he could even do anything to the oblivious Phil Atken, though, Atken sprung up and had the Scorpion Fighting Title kiss Quinton May goodbye! May collapsed to the mat, and that was the cue for the A! Champion to begin assaulting the Rising Star. It wasn't enough that Atken had robbed Quinton of the Scorpion F'ing Title. It wasn't enough that Phil had beat up and crucified May to a tree, then proceeded to steal the latter's rental car. Now, he wanted to destroy Quincy Mama. "YOUR TV TITLE IS NEXT, QUINTON! MUAHAHAHA!" Atken screamed at the top of his voice, underlining what else he wanted to do along with destroying the career of the Canadian Gladiator. This then brought out CHRIS MESSIAH. Yes. Him. He too has a vested interest in the TV Title. As well as exacting revenge on Phil Atken and the little matter of having been upstaged by Quinton May two weeks ago. Tricky love triangle, this is. Phil 'the Grand Poobah of Sexiness' Atken was smart, however, and slid out of the ring as soon as Messiah jumped in. Phil laughed, holding up his title, and pointed mockingly at Messiah who'd picked up the chair and started hurling profanities at the Smartest Man In Wrestling Today. The heated rivalry between the two -- though unexplained yet having reach extreme levels with Phil getting Chris fired from Burger King -- had just hit boiling point. Same could be said for Quinton/Phil. And Quinton/Chris. Speaking of which, Quincy Mama had now clambered up to his feet, claret masking his face. SMAAAACCCCCCK And down he went, with Chris Messiah looking down at him. The torrent of hate continued to pile on down on Chris Messiah and Phil Atken, who'd already made his escape by then. Bottomline of this whole deal? We've got a new Scorpion Fighting Champion, and a possible triple-threat showdown on the cards. I'd get ready for that if I were you. WINNER, AND NEW SCORPION FIGHTING CHAMPION: PHIL ATKEN
I'd Call You a Whore... If Only I Could Speak
“Hello?” A voice on the other end of the line answered.
Another Encounter of the Interruptive Kind
The night was almost over; all that was left was the main event. Ruben was sitting at a small buffet table established for the wrestlers and staff of the ACW. His eyes were set on a monitor that sat in a corner across the room, watching as the Courage was coming do an end. While waiting for the main event to roll around, he sipped on a cold brew, and relaxed after a satisfying debut victory.
THE
FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS
NOT AIRED
“I just want you to realize something, ‘Cleffberg’.” yelled Volker, standing above the trunk of the white Honda he stole the night before. He slammed the ice pick in his hand against the lid, poking a ring sized hole through the thin layer of steel.
Beyond Kayfabe
Thump.
THE
FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS
NOT AIRED
There
had been a long
silence since their
last conversation, as
it seemed that Alias'
revelation had caused
HAWK to rethink a few
ideas in his mind. As
HAWK sipped a bottle
of water which he had
had since the
beginning, Alias had
pulled a energy drink
from his locker room
and brought it back
with him. There
was only one thing
left on their minds
now however; Revival. "So
are you ready to lose
that title?" HAWK's
dry smile was a relief
to Alias in a sense,
as it seemed there was
more or less no
friction between the
two whatsoever at this
point. "I'm
not gonna lose nothing
Chris, except a little
bit of blood I guess,
but hey I'm cool with
that." Alias
nodded. "Any
stips?" It
was something that he
had been thinking
about for a while. "I
dunno, usually it's
the Champion's choice,
but I'm open to ideas,
I want as many spots
as possible in the
arena where I can beat
the crap out of
you." Another
smile. "I'm
sure you will think of
something Aaron, and
hey, I'll pass
anything onto Laguna
if I do, don't want me
causing trouble
between us do, do
I?" "You
sure don't." There
seemed to be nothing
left to say. They
had given their piece. And
had maybe found out
more in a few
sentences about each
man than they had
years of knowing one
another. SilverHAWK
got to his feet. As
did Alias. "You
better bring your A
game son, because at
Revival, there is
gonna be none of this,
I am there to do a job
and that job will be
to keep my
title..." "Don't
you worry HAWK, I'm
ready. Ready to take
back my title,
and finally settle a
score that had been
what? 15 years in the
making?" And
then, the final sign
of respect. The
handshake. "May
the best man
win," said Alias,
as he pulled away and
went back to his
dressing room, but not
before the final
comment was launched
at his direction. "Don't
worry, I will."
Tag
Team Match
“A Violent Reaction” by American Head Charge filled up the arena and boos rang out immediately. Marshall and the Mammoth stepped out into the arena, and the boos got louder and louder. They ignored them, and made their way to the ring. They had a goal tonight, and nothing was going to stop them. They simply didn’t care what the crowd was doing tonight… They only had one thing on their mind: Destroy Geo Vacton. WINNER : Marshall & The Mammoth
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