July 29th 2004
Recorded LIVE! from Adie Knox Herman Arena, Windsor, Ontario
Card subject to change without notice
Previously - As ACWs Canadian tour continues,
numbers are falling inside the federation, and also in the seats. Wrestlers
are being harshly dealt with as the management looks to crack down on wasters,
and without
anyone's knowledge, the former owner is building up a squad...a squad to take down
ACW.
|
Finding The Answers, Without Knowing The Questions
But that was the problem. The fans. Duncan looked out from the side curtain, peering at a half full arena...or to those pessimists a half empty arena. Without really publishing it, ACW had already downsized itself this year when booking events...gone were the Madison Square Gardens and the baseball fields, in were the old run down exhibition centers and overblown school gyms, but even those weren't filled up. "Bad isn't it." Duncan turned around startled, as SilverHAWK leaned against the wall and peered behind her. "Do you always go creeping up behind women's backs?" SilverHAWK chuckled. "Now if my wife heard you say that, you'd be dead meat." The two shared a small moment for the joke to settle in, and then looked back at the empty seats. "What do you think is going on?" asked Duncan, peering into the face of the wrestling veteran, he had seen it all, surely he had the answers to their current predicament. "I don't know to be honest, it could be a number of things. It could be the fact that wrestling is taking a small dip in popularity after the whole Monday Night War, or it could be the fact that ever Tom, Dick and Harry who knows how to do a hip-toss is opening a federation and throwing money at shitty wrestlers." Hillary peered down at her check list, she was done for the night, the only thing that was going to keep her busy was the usual popping up of the odd problem, usually related to someone either being late or not turning up at all. "So what can we do?" "Well...Canada has never been a big place for us to be honest, we neglected it for a long time back when Boyd and Dunn ran the show, so maybe it'll brighten up when we go back across the border...if it doesn't, then we are in a slump and need a new website design, I hear that's a sure fire solution for some of the big federations..." Duncan looked at HAWK quizzically. "You must hang out with the wrong crowd Hil, see ya." As SilverHAWK moved off into the halls of the arena, Duncan watched as he nodded heads at all most every ACW employee, from the light technicians to the janitors...like it or not, SilverHAWK still loved ACW. Even if it didn't love him back.
The Prologue
1.
An introduction or preface, especially a poem recited to introduce a
play. It was as if there was a foul wind in the air that made it evident tonight’s Courage contained something novel … something original … something different. A pair of piercing green eyes penetrated the shadows of which consumed the optics. A bright yellow encircled the green, as the two colors went together harmoniously. The solitary silhouette of a beast materialized. The eyes were focused toward the floor of which the beast stood on. However, at a closer look, there were two silhouettes. One of the eye-piercing monster, and another of a figure smaller in stature, who looked to be about 5’9” in height. Apparently, the beast’s eyes were fixated upon the smaller figure. The penetrating eyes disappeared for a mere millisecond as if they had been turned off, but quickly turned back on. Apparently, the monster had blinked just as a voice had emitted from the smaller figure. “Don’t worry, Yuri – I’ll get you a match tonight. Trust me, we’ll show Mr. Laguna that it wasn’t a mistake hiring you,” spoke the smaller figure in a very reassuring voice. “As a matter of fact, I’ll go talk to Mr. Laguna right now.” It appeared that the monstrous-sized man’s name was Yuri, as that was what the smaller figure had referred to him as. The small-framed man immediately dismissed himself from the giant in search of Mr. Laguna to fulfill his promise. The infiltrating, glowing eyes still remained consumed in the shadows, preventing the face of which the eyes belonged to from being visible. Whoever this “Yuri” is, it seems as if his partner is intent on making an impact here in the ACW utilizing this enigmatic creature.
Never Insult the Gucci
He took a deep breath; he could barely bring himself to utter the words. “McDonalds?” Jamar Gordo was grinning like an idiot as Kelly Flawless, the Seer of Nutrition, got ready to lose his lunch. “But, but… Jamar, how could you put that filth in your body? That’s like taking a great big bite of J. Lo’s ass, except with a little more plastic. And then of course the bun, which has enough carbs in it to make Dr. Robert C. Atkins himself keel over and die… Too bad the sidewalk beat our carbohydrate-filled friend to it,” he said staring at Jamar as if he had just insulted the brand Gucci. “I know, I know, Carbs are the enemy,” Gordo said hanging his head in shame. “You’re damn right they are,” Kelly continued, “sure they may help Oprah stay in shape, but look what they’ve done to Rosie O'Donnell. It’s nearly a miracle that she can even roll out of bed in the morning.” “And don’t forget, they turned her into a lesbian,” Jamar added sternly. “Exactly,” the Blonde Warrior of the North agreed wagging a finger, “they are the enemy.” It was at that moment that their attention was reverted from McDonalds and lesbians to that oh so sweet posterior that was jiggling its way down the hallway at twelve o’clock in front of them. “Screw them damn carbs, I’d put that on a bun and eat it up any day,” Jamar said lowering his sunglasses so his eyes peaked over the top of lenses. “Agreed,” Kelly said, locking his eyes onto the luscious behind. That sultry rump belonged to Hillary Duncan and it shook in her business attire like that white girl shook in O.J.’s palms before he killed her. A drop of drool fell from the mouth of Kelly Flawless, only to strike the quite expensive leather shoe that Jamar was sporting. Gordo’s eyes lowered, however Kelly, like always, was clueless. “Dude,” Gordo said, breaking his stare – and believe me, this was about the only thing that could ever make him look away from that. That, and well, an unauthorized rubbing of the Gucci. “You drooled on my shoe.” “No one cares about your shoe,” Kelly said, he wouldn’t dare look up at Jamar. “Let’s follow it,” he said, leaving the Headliner looking down at the wet leather. “Hillary!” The Alaskan Timberwolf called after her as his pace quickened. As he spoke however, her eyes widened. After a quick glance back she decided to do what any self-respecting, intelligent woman would do. Run. As her feet began to move, and her arms began to swing, a frown came over the face of Kelly Flawless. “Hillary!” He called once more. But the second call went unheard as she disappeared around the corner. And of course, Kelly not being a man who likes to break a sweat unless he’s gettin' his freak on stopped dead in his tracks and stared back at Jamar Gordo. “Ass,” he said beginning to walk back to the Master of All Styles, “you scared her away. She ran because of you.” “Pssh!” Gordo sounded, “as if.” “As if nothing, she saw your second hand, wet leather shoes, and she ran,” Kellen Cutright screeched looking down at the droplet of drool that was resting against the leather of the dress shoe. “And the Gucci…” the Rapist of All that is Evil began, “isn’t even that nice.” WHOA. Okay, Jamar could handle Kelly drooling on the leather shoes. He could even handle Kelly then calling the shoes second hand. But nobody, and I mean nobody insults the Gucci. The Protagonist in the Story of Life knew he had crossed the line. There are two things you do not do to a man, the first is compromise his ability to make babies by striking him in his soldier dispenser. And the second is attempt to bring down his designer clothing with words that cannot be taken back. With that Kelly Flawless was off. He ducked around the corner as Jamar Gordo quivered with anger. “What a pompous ass,” Gordo hissed, “he knows not to insult the Gucci.”
Beginning = Not Auspicious
Last week’s King Of Ages match for Lancett was a none starter, as the now fired Malik Roland failed to turn up for their first round match…but now, El Gato Negro stood between him and a semi-final place in the tournament. Static-X
then cut into Modest Mouse as Lancett made his way to the ring, the
fans giving him a customary boo of boredom of the young starlett, who
at this moment in time wasn't really impressing the smarks or the
marks of ACW...was this his chance? The bell sounded and EGN took off at Lancett with a huge amount of pace, trying to catch his opponent off guard, although EGN wasn't on guard to see the drop toe hold that Lancett caught him with, as his nose bounced off the mat. EGN
pulled his head up off the mat...to see a trickle of blood. New ACW Record - Quickest Blood shed...0.8s Lancett knew he had to target the
open back of EGN as he lay on all fours on the canvas, so he attacked the back. Yet,
EGN lip’s experience edge took over. EGN caught Lancett’s leg as he went to kick him in the back with a roundhouse like move. EGN swiftly took over Lancett with a
dragon whip. Drop kick, followed by another. And
then a breath-less pin. EGN kicked out with aggression; growing ever more angrier with every shot taken. It wasn’t quite enough to eliminate EGN just yet and Lancett sensibly opted to continue his onslaught with four good old-fashioned knees to the face and a few seconds later the camera, as well as the crowd, detected that the small trickle of blood that had started coming from his nose at the start of the match, was now in full flow... Lancett took EGN down with a snap suplex. 1… A defiant fist in the air. Lancett was building more and more momentum by the second, as EGN sat up, Lancett had dollar signs and gold in his eyes, as he slammed a boot into EGN's neck, and then lifted him up to his feet...EGN was sluggish. But he was playing with Lancett. A quick shot to the kidneys as Lancett hooked another suplex. The tried and trusted eye rake, which is enough to stop any athlete with their tails up, and he followed that up with a devastating DDT which caused Lancett to bounce off the canvas, to the sheer joy of the fans… EGN had the cover this time. 1... 2... Kickout. The fans were beginning to lean towards Gato now...as Lancett was just too much of a little shitebag for the fans to like...really, look at that face, doesn't that equal slimey? RANDY
SUCKS! And remember, Lancett doesn't like being called Randy. EGN shook his head as he 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. But Randy...eh...Lancett, was still on his game, as it was EGN who went flying into the corner, with so much power that he stumbled back into the centre of the ring such was the force. Lancett struck a pose, and then aimed another seemless dropkick into EGN's face. Target = that bloody nose. Target = hit. Now, if the fans didn't like Lancett by this point, the weasel was about to go down in many people's esimtations as he looked down and laughed at EGN...laughed. A total lack of respect from Lancett seen that chant crop up once again...to which he flipped the bird at the whole arena. RANDY
SUCKS! RANDY
SUCKS! RANDY
SUCKS! RANDY
SUCKS! RANDY
SUCKS! Sorry...went a bit overboard there. Momentum. Lancett had it. Now EGN had it, because through all the shouting and bird flipping, EGN had got to his feet, and stood, awaiting young Randy to turn around so he could bash him in the face with a drop kick of his own. Lancett was up quickly. Dropkick. This was the match of the dropkick...until EGN kicked Lancett in the nuts and slammed him to the mat with a powerbomb. Negro needed some time to get his wits back, because after that dash and power effort, he felt...well the technical term is "woozy", so EGN held onto Lancett's head, and kept him on the mat with a head lock. The referee, upon asking if Lancett wanted to give up, was given a big "fuck off"...which more or less means no. The crowd watched on as EGN pulled Lancett to his feet, softening him up with a few right hands before letting Lancett go and bouncing off the ropes. Body block by EGN. Lancett on the mat. A roll over and then a jump over as EGN made his way across the ring. Lancett got to his feet...as EGN slid through his legs, and then stayed on the mat. Lancett turned around. OVERHEAD KICK~! GGGGGGGGGGGGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLL Lancett fell back, like a fallen tree, as EGN seen his chance. He rolled Lancett over. Strangle Hold Alpha Lancett couldn't even tap, he had to verbally give up. It was over. El Gato Negro, had just progressed to the semi finals of the King of Ages tournament, the gold was in his sights...but for Lancett, the promise shown didn't factor in his quarter final match, what now for the young talent? Gold by conceptual means? Who knows, the only thing that's for sure, is that Lancett, will not be the King of Ages 2004. Winner > El Gato Negro
Spoiled Victory
Perpetually Divine – Her Voice… of an Angel, Her Words… of a Devil
The Fallen Angel was all about business tonight, at least it seemed that. With the match last week anything but a distant memory, he began to climb the second rung on the King of Ages ladder. He kept his eye on the prize, but realized that each approaching rung was just as important as the last. Donatello had put up a good fight last week, but it wasn’t anything like the fight that was awaiting Simian Kade this week. God’s Forgotten Son. Fejona Min. Two of the best in the promotion. Two of the best in the industry. It was no secret at this point that Simian was swimming in waters that he probably should not have entered. His leg was one giant cut, and the sharks lurking underneath could sense it. They smelt the weakness. He tried to hold a sneeze back as he concentrated as best he could on what the task at hand required. Over the past few weeks Kade had taken a back seat somewhat in helping his friend Ecks, Alexander Burace, conquer his latest nemesis Lancett. However it was now just a matter of time before Ecks’ problems boiled over on to Simian’s lap. He’d be left to fight another war. A war he did not start, but a war he’d be glad to finish. His eyes were somewhat glazed over as he awaited the call. There he sat anticipating the usual. A knock on the door from a stagehand telling him he had five minutes before his bout was nothing out of the ordinary. However this time his concentration was shredded by not a knock at the door, rather a phone call. He turned his head slowly and stared down at the cellular phone. He picked it up from its resting-place and pressed it to his ear. “Hello,” he said groggily. Suddenly, as a voice spoke into the other end of the phone, Kade’s thoughts and focus were no longer just on tonight’s match. They now centered on something else. Something that would be a lot more traumatic if he lost it again.
Putting It ALL On The Line
He was also late, but disregard that for a moment. Having just walked into the doors of the arena, Quincy Mama threw his bag down outside his locker-room and continued to storm down the hallway. Still decked out in his street clothes, which included a snazzy black leather jacket that made him look tough, the Rising Star had a lot to get off his sexy chest. So, he snapped his fingers as he neared the A/V technical area, which was more or less a signal for the boys there to prepare his entrance. A bottle of water was laying on a table next to a microphone, and Quincy duly pocketed both items. Waiting in the holding area, Quinton took a deep breath and closed his eyes. First time he was back home, in Windsor, in forever. As far was wrestling promotions in the States were concerned, Windsor was not the most marketable of cities in the great Canadian state of Ontario. Nonetheless, ACW was well into its Canadian tour, and the Adie Knox Herman Arena was more than available to William Laguna and his management team. Quinton took one last sip of the bottled water, stopped thinking about his clone situation that was unfolding in tSC (yes, that evil clone was back and with a brand new script, too!), and frowned at the graffiti on the walls. They looked fresh. Then... "Make A Move" by Lostprophets started up over the speakers. The crowd in the Adie Knox Herman Arena EXPLODED with the loudest chorus of cheers in recorded history. Each and every one of them had been simply waiting, biding their time, for an appearance from their hometown hero. Wait no longer, folks. Here he came. Brushing past the curtains, Quinton May raised both his arms in the air, and even managed a smile despite being in a torrid and absolutely foul mood. The reception of the audience who were predominantly Windsor natives blew him away. He somewhat expected a rapturous response, but this was beyond his wildest dreams. The chanting of his name had already begun, in fact, nuking out the lyrics of May's theme song in the process. The Survivor of M15 briskly walked down the ramp, still pretty much overawed by the reception he was getting. But, hey, this was his hometown. And it was a Canadian hometown. Them Canadians are passionate about their hometown wrestling heroes. Very passionate. Benoit, Jericho, Lance Storm, the Hart family; just a few examples there. Now, Quinton's name was added to that extremely illustrious list. Climbing into the ring, Quincy Mama ascended one of the four corner turnbuckles and raised his arms up in the air, acknowledging his native Windsor-nians, who responded with even more deafening and boisterious chanting of his name. It was insane, I tells ya. Insane! "QUINCY
MAMA!" And so on, and so forth. You get the idea, aye? Stepping back down onto the canvas, Quinton bounced his neck from shoulder to shoulder, and the smile of his face evaporated. It was nice to get caught up in the moment and all, but as far as he was concerned, May had a lot of business to settle tonight. "Welllll, then. Livin' it up in Windsor." Quinton spoke up once his song faded out and the crowd quietened down (which was hard to do, what with their hometown hero in the middle of the ring and all!). "I never thought we'd ever come here, but, hell, here we are. Here I am. Back home, where it all began. My life, that is. I haven't come back here in ages, and it feels like I should have done so. I haven't had much time to walk around and see the ol' neighbourhood and stuff, but while it seems that the exterior of this place has changed, the charm and the magic of Windsor is still in the air. One whiff and I can tell. And I tell you what, it's damn intoxicating. But as fun as it is to talk about the place where you grew up in, even if you can't remember most of it, I have to go ahead and touch on another subject. One that could really be related to my murky memory capabilities. Fejona Min. Natalie Quinston. You two have been content with playing games with me. The two of you got that... clone to take over my life and steal my identity. I come back to settle that; with some help from you, surprisingly enough, and I find out that it's all a scam. That the clone was part of something bigger and more intricate. Plus, some other nonsense I can't remember. Now, with what happened over in tSC two nights ago, I believe you. The bum's shown up again, and now, I've got a real problem on my hands. Because in addition to that, the two of you have some hunk of a bodyguard protecting your arses. Which means, I can't do anything to the two of you. So, unless you intend to make this whole affair a slow-moving process, I assume that you are, at some point, going to reveal who this bodyguard of yours is. Otherwise, the thing with the hood and the concealment of his identity would be pretty fucking stupid. And as it is, I'm sick of the games. Now, then. Shall we get along with it, then?" Quincy Mama was cutting to the chase. After a brief yet blurry trip down memory lane, reminiscing about the ol' neighbourhood and all that sappy stuff, the Rising Star was intent on being spared the bullshit and being exposed to whatever nefarious scheme Fejona Min had up those sleeves of hers. Ask, and ye shall receive, Quinton. "Lucky You" as performed by the Deftones was all cued up, and the arena was quickly reveberating from the hostile and antagonistic reception being belted out for the Cambodian Femme Fatale herself. Fejona Min, Natalie Quinston, and their 'bodyguard' wasted not a single second in complying to May's wishes, and they lined up on the stage, smirking. Fejona, dressed to fight, had a microphone in her hand and her mind on her KOA 2004 Tournament match later on; a quarter-final match, at that. Natalie Quinston? Still embittered over the lost chance to win the Scorpion Fighting Title. The cause of which was standing in the ring. "Alright, then. I want answers." May stated flatly the instant Fej's theme song was cut. The Enchanting Delinquent, who for some reason had her Asylum Women's Title on her shoulder, laughed. "Oh, yeah, like we didn't go through this before, Quincy. Remember, two weeks ago? You were all 'I want answers', and I was all 'try again in a million years'. Guess what? It HAS NOT been a million years, Quinton. Nice try, though." "Cut the bullshit, you slut." the Rising Star interrupted, garnering some cheers. "We both know that neither one of us has the patience to trade witty barbs all night long, and the show must go on. Just get on with it, eh?" See, May wasn't in the mood for beating around the bush anymore. Not one bit. And if it meant calling Fejona Min a slut... well, so be it. The crowd launched their own derogatory chant aimed at the Rogue Slayer, who looked only mildly flustered by the chant. Some people suggest that she doesn't mind being called a slut. Now, then, if we could only watch some videos of her in the act... mmm. Raising the mic back up to her mouth (kinky!), Fejona fired back a response: "Well, then, I can see you're earnestly eager to find out about who this man is who attacked you last week. So, fine, okay. Suck allll the fun out of my long tirade. No matter, he'll make up for it when he takes you on later. Oh, yeah. See, the people I work for gave me a nice budget to work with, so I went to the one man that I knew would not mind tearing you apart, just to help a girl out. As I said, Quinton, this is purely business. If I wasn't hired for this mission, I would probably try to become friends with you. Natalie, on the other hand, hates you and so do you. Unchartered territory for me there. But, anyways. You want answers? Alright. That little problem you have in tSC? Not my purogative anymore. My association with that project ended at GLORY; all I was supposed to do was to make you realise what was going on, and that's that. This man here, on the other hand, is my newest project. And your newest roadblock SLASH challenger. Ladies and gentlemen, I reintroduce you to, for one night only... ... OSYRUS!" Holy sheeeeeeet multiplied by two to the power of six thousand and four. The crowd were completely shellshocked by this latest bombshell, and as if to further emphasise the point, Fejona ripped the hood off of her bodyguard's head. It was indeed the Anti-Social Hero himself. ASH. Some call him 'Asar'. You, though, should call him 'EVIL~!'. With a Cheshire grin on his face, Osyrus folded his arms and stared a hole through Quinton May, who was visibly taken aback by this latest twist in the tale. The size of a man isn't really indicative of his true power, but when you're the monster known as Osyrus; let's just say, whoever stood in his path before has had to have some reconstructive surgery done. "Tis brilliant, isn't it?" Fejona exclaimed wildly. "I figured that since you were strutting around here, acting like the tough guy that you are, that you'd relish a true challenge. Against someone who can really give you a run for your money. And your life. So, since he's an Asylum-ite like myself, and he too is a Television Champion, I pulled some strings and here he is. Ready and able to maim you like the hapless victim that you are. Now, I know. You're thinking that I can't do this, legally. I don't have any sort of power around here to make things happen. You're right, Quinton. Which is why, I propose this -- you take Osyrus on and, by some grace of God, walk out of here in one piece and with your precious title still in your possession... and I'll give you some answers. It's as simple *snicker* as that, honey. I think that's a pretty fair trade, isn't it? So, then, Quincy. What say you? Are you up for the role of the 'saviour'?" Honestly, Quinton told himself, he wasn't ready for this. He knew exactly what Osyrus was capable of, as over a year ago, the two men competed in that very ACW ring. The Castaway was victorious, but only on a disqualification. And what followed after a match left Quincy on the shelves for quite a while. Needless to say, May was a bit cautious to tread on this breaking ice. But, like, he had a choice? Fejona Min was dangling the bait right in front of his face. Win, and get answers. Sure, May's very own Spidey-sense told him to NOT be so daft as to actually trust the Enchanting Delinquent. And, hell, he had to take on a man feared by many and with enough credentials to instill numbness into anyone who dared to even cross his path. He didn't stand a chance, Quinton told himself. But, hey, it's these moments through which a hero is defined, aye? "Alright." Quinton finally said, drawing massive cheers from the crowd who, despite their response to Quinton's answer, were mighty concered for their hometown Canadian Gladiator. "I'll do it. I'll fight this fight." With that all confirmed, Fejona & Natalie Quinston gave each other that knowing look, realising that they were one step closer towards fulfilling their objective. Osyrus simply continued laughing and shaking his head, mouthing off to some of the fans about how he was going to mush Quincy Mama into dust. The evil trio soon took their leave as Quinton May paced about in the ring, slightly worried now, about what he'd gotten himself into. As COURAGE! segued into commercials, though, the Rising Star had a cunning smirk on his face. Did he know something we didn't know? Na, not likely. ... He just had a plan.
It's Cool to be Hip and it's Hip to be Cool
Second Link, Part One
He had only been off the island for a mere two weeks, and already he was in the business mode, after his first successful negotiation; now for his second. This time, Lilani was his company, as Carter found himself in an unknown suburb of Miami, this didn't look like any Will Smith video that he had seen. Carters new resemblance however, gave him a look which nobody wanted to mess with, and Lilani was pleased with that. "Do you have the picture with you Brian?" Lilani asked, as Carter un-foiled a photo graph from his jacket pocket and stretched it out to take away the creases. Lilani stopped in his tracks as they turned the corner, as a large group of youths came their way, as Lilani tried to take a step back, Carter moved one forward, pulling out the photo. "Do any of you guys know who this guy is?" Carter lifted the photo, and began scanning the group with it, but none of them were looking, they were only looking at him. "How much for that jacket?", one of them mustered. "Excuse me?" "Don't you speak English nucka? I said how much for your jacket." Carter was confused. "I don't want to sell my fucking jacket, have you seen this man?" A couple of the tail-offs at the back of the group took a glance, and then started to walk away after viewing it, Carter rushed in, but got an arm across his face to block his path. "Where are you going?" Carter looked at the beefcake who now stood in his way. "Your friends know him, I need to speak with him, it's urgent." And then Lilani took his turn. "We're family of his, we haven't seen him in years." A few of the group laughed. "You ain't his family, he ain't got no family, well, apart from his junk." "So you know him too?" The beefcake turned his lip at Carter. "I knows him, but I ain't fucking tellin' you shit homeboy, go run off back to Beverly Hills." Carter placed his finger in his right eye and then flicked his head forward, dropping a contact lens in his hand, and then peering back to the mans face. "Do I look like a come from Beverly Hills?" He took a step back, such was a ghastly sight of Carters eye...as Lilani took a glance himself and nearly vomited into a nearby rose bush. "Listen man...the last time I seen him, he was hanging around the Greasy Spoon, and the bookies next door to it, that's all I know chief." Carter put the photo back in his pocket and turned back to Lilani. "All that for another fucking blow-off, if I don't find him today, I'll be pissed."
The Absolute Behemoth
Ooooh, are you ready? I said, ARE YOU READY? The first KOA 2004 quarter-final was about to unfold, and it would be one of TWO quarter-finals that would be contested under Triple Threat rules. Can you say, revolving door of the industry? HA! Anyyyways, with three extremely talented competitors involved in this match, the crowd had every reason to be excited for this one. This would be a contest that would surely be overflowing with heartstopping action, they felt. One blink of an eye, and the winner's hand would be raised. Question was, who would advance? Simian Kade, arguably the favourite here due to his experience inside an ACW ring? Fejona Min, the Asylum fighter that was proving she too could mix it up in a wrestling ring? Or the explosive God's Forgotten Son, fresh off the biggest victory of his sketchy career? Simian Kade was already in the ring, camped out in one of the four corners, awaiting his chance. His chance to make a real name for himself. His chance at greatness. His one and only chance. Without further ado, I present -- "You Know You're Right" by Nirvana. I
never bother you. I'm
gonna move away from here. Pain. Pain... Pain. You
know you're right. The arena was plunged into darkness, and mass screams of hysteria erupted. The dark represents the unknown, and God's Forgotten Son was exactly that; a complete unknown in the circuit. Even his ring entrance seemed mysterious, since the stage was devoid of any lifeform whatsoever. Maybe because GFS was in the sea of humanity known as the crowd? That he was, and that chilling face of his remained emotionless as GFS and his trainer/bodyguard, simply referred to as Mr Wallace, hopped over the security barricade. The two men nodded at each other at ringside, before GFS slid in and proceeded to stand in the middle of the ring, as a single white spotlight shone down on the newcomer to the industry. Kade watched on, completely unimpressed, and instead focused on what lay ahead. Slowly removing his jacket hoodie, GFS let it drop to the floor as the lights finally came back on, and he raised a single first in the air, while keeping his eyes transfixed on the mat. Intensely focused would be only mildly describing GFS's mindset. Once his theme music faded out, though, the man who upset SVJ two weeks ago looked up at the crowd with those dead eyes of his and shook his head. Just as "Lucky You" as performed by The Deftones started up over the speakers. And out came the Enchanting Delinquent, decked out in a sleeveless black tanktop that showed off the shape of her breasts very nicely, along with tight back pants and... well, no footwear. All that in Asylum made her crazy, me thinks. But anywho, catcalls and wolf-whistles were aplenty, but so were hateful jeering. Fejona Min, after all, was the evil vixen that was leading some kind of charge against the federation's Television Champion. Plus, this was the latter's hometown crowd. So, yeah. Back to the actual matter at hand; Fejona quickly entered the ring, looking very eager to get mixed up in a match that if she won, would cement her status as one of the favourites to win the tournament. Kade GFS stood in her way, though. With all the entrances done and over with, all three competitors converged in the middle of the ring. The referee came over to Fejona Min and checked her out, reminding her to leave her Asylum ways out of this as Kade sized up GFS with his eyes. GFS looked down his hair over his face not even paying attention to his competitors. The referee went to over to GFS and asked to check his pads. GFS slowly lifted his head and glared through his black and blond streaked locks as he growled at the referee. The referee backed off in fear, as a chuckle came from the fans. The referee then made his way to Kade and checked his pads. Everything was set. The referee was satisfied. And he signalled for the bell -- * DING DING DINNNG * The Cambodian Femme Fatale, New York's Finest and God's Forgotten Son started to look at each other, with the crowd already going wild. The three fierce competitors stared each other down waiting for them to make the move. It wasn't a very big surprise who was the first to attack. GFS backhanded Kade to the chest striking it red. The huge knife-edge chop echoed throughout the whole arena and the crowd went all 'WHOOO~!'. Fejona, being the Asylum veteran, tried to fight GFS and sent a vicious kick to the calf of GFS followed by another. She was chopping down GFS by the calf and soon enough went for a swift roundhouse for the face of GFS. The so-called Past, Present, and Future of ACW caught the roundhouse, though, and brought her leg to his side getting his balance back. GFS then pulled Fejona by the foot towards him while Kade bounced off the ropes and a double clothesline from Kade and GFS grounded Fejona. First signs of teamwork there. The Femme Fatale landed on her neck, almost flipping her backwards from the velocity of the clotheslines. Damn lightweight, ha! A vicious stiff lockup with the Fallen Angel and GFS then ensued, quickly ending their association, and the lockup was also quickly broken, by GFS. By way of a knee to the ribs. With Simian doubled over, God's Forgotten Son started to club away at Kade's back, before placing Kade's head between his legs. Looked as if he was going for a powerbomb. The recovering Fejona Min had a different thought, however, as she ran towards them and used Kade's spine as a launching pad, driving her knee into the face of God's Forgotten Son. Innovative stuff there, and the crowd -- while hating Fejona -- gave the Enchanting Delinquent her due credit. Awww. As she stood up to her feet, flicking strands of her ethereal hair out of her face, Fejona suddenly found herself being planted back down to the canvas, courtesy of a German suplex from Mr Simian Kade. Oh, did I mention? BRIDGING German suplex. Which meant, the referee had to count; ONE. TWO. TH - NO! Fejona rolled out of it, and cursed under her breath for being caught like that. Simian too scrambled to his feet, with a smirk on his face that quickly vanished as God's Forgotten Son finally got back into the mix of things and viciously punched Kade in the kidney area, before shoving him aside. Min gulped slightly at the sight of the big GFS advancing on her, but she survived. How? Simple. Drop toe hold. GFS's head bounced off the canvas, and the Cambodian Femme Fatale quickly followed up by springboarding off the top rope and connecting with a harsh double-footed stomp down onto the upper spinal area of God's Forgotten Son. Once again, she smiled devilishly to herself, proud of what she'd done. And once again, Simian Kade seeked to surprise her, spinning Min around and trapping her in the throes of a bearhug submission. Fejona was very VERY quick to react, courtesy of a knife-edged chop strike to the neck of New York's Finest, which left him gasping for air. This allowed the Asylum Women's Champion to bounce herself off the ropes, before eventually connecting with a fantastic dropkick to the kisser! Following which, Fejona Min made the swift cover; ONE. TWO. TH - AHHH, SHUCKS. God's Forgotten Son was not going to let Fejona go ahead and win, and pulled her sexy body off of Simian's. Once that was done, the mysterious GFS dropped a calculated elbow down onto Fejona's skull, drawing a nod of the head from Mr Wallace on the outside. Min writhed on the canvas, clearly feeling the effect of that elbow drop. Did GFS care? No. Not at all. Instead, he picked Fejona up by way of tugging at her hair, before viciously and repeatedly kicking her in the ribs. After what seemed to be like eternity, GFS finally pulled Min toward him, and the cold eyes of his suggested he wanted to end this match then and there. Especially when he had Fejona's head in between his thighs. Mmmm, kinky? Na, you sick bastards, just the prelude to his Selfless Retribution finisher. ... Or so he thought. Simian Kade, having been smart enough to rest until the time was right, finally decided to make his move. And make his move, he did. Firstly, by kicking GFS in the back of his left knee. And secondly, by executing a wicked reverse DDT variant. One Kade uses to set up for his spear of a finisher, if you didn't know. As it was, Simian couldn't quite make the cover, what with the execution of the move having taken a bit out of him and all. Fejona, though, had escaped from the clutches of God's Forgotten Son quite unscathed, and with the opportunity presenting itself, there was only one thing for her to do; ONE. TWO. THRE - NOOOOOOO. Unluckily for Fejona Min, Simian Kade wasn't THAT konked out, and he was able to break up the count via an elbow drop. In addition to snarling at NOT being announced as the winner, Min groaned at the burning feeling in the back of her head. Seemed like everyone and their grandmother liked to drop elbows on her pretty little cranium. What's up with that? ... Nobody knows, and nobody cares. Ahem. Pulling Fejona up to her feet, Simian Kade started to slug away at the Cambodian Femme Fatale, driving her right hands into her face. Six was as high as he got before Fejona wisely decided to block one of 'em punches, which then allowed her to strike with a spinning backfist. That bought her some time, with Simian Kade stumbling backwards, cupping his nose in his face. And walking right into the path of the massively enraged God's Forgotten Son. He didn't take too kindly to being robbed the chance to put Fejona Min away moments earlier, and as such, the mysterious newcomer to the ACW circuit decided to make New York's Finest pay for his unholy interjection. GFS did this by grabbing Simian by the neck, to hold him in place, enabling GFS to savagely headbutt Kade in the back of the head. Simian cried out in instant agony, but there was only more to come. GFS spun Simian Kade around, picked him up, and punk'd him out with an old-fashioned TKO. Applause all around from the fans for that one. It was as fluid as the legends could have hoped it to be. So was the grace and agility of Fejona Min, who'd been carefully watching GFS knock Simian Kade out. Once the former started to get back to his feet, Min jumped onto the top of the turnbuckle in a single leap, and took flight, twisting in midair. GFS turned around at just the exact time that Fejona landed on his shoulders, and with extreme precision, laid him out with a brilliant hurricaranna. Just like that, the Cambodian Femme Fatale had turned the tables. Quickly enough, she made the cover; ONE. TWO. THREEEEEEEEEE. Well, no, sorry. Nuh uh, Simian Kade didn't make the save. Nope. GFS simply got his shoulder off the canvas at the last possible second. Very close-call stuff there, and the crowd breathed a collective sigh of relief, not wanting Fejona Min to win. Obviously. Still, though, there were in awe of the move she'd just pulled out of her arsenal just seconds prior, and were secretly hoping to witness more audacious and snazzy-looking antics. Bloodthirsty bastards. Getting back to their vertical bases, both GFS and Fejona Min were a little worse for wear, but it was Min who struck first, courtesy of a palm heel strike to the face. God's Forgotten Son barely flinched, before a sudden flurry of knife-edged chops rattled him. With her confidence growing more by the second, Min shot herself into the ropes, and came roaring back towards GFS in a cartwheel, which stylishly segued into a spinning roundhouse kick. The crowd wanted it? They got it. GFS? He went all "...". The kick didn't faze him one bit. Min, thinking she was a couple of seconds away from victory, kipped to her feet and smirked at the crowd. That was until she turned around, and her face turned deathly white. Without warning, God's Forgotten Son wrapped his arms around her small frame, and turned her inside out with a snap belly-to-back suplex. HOLY SHEET, indeed. Fans loved it, and counted along with the referee as GFS hooked the legs; ONE. TWO. THR - ARGH, SIMIAN KADE! That's right. Ol' Kade had crawled over and broke the count at the most inopportune time, as far as Mr Wallace was concerned. GFS snarled at Simian as the latter pulled the former up to his feet, and promptly blocked a right hand attempt. Simian cursed as he was shoved back into the ropes, but he ducked a snap roundhouse kick attempt from GFS, allowing him to bounce off the parallel set of ropes. GFS turned around, furious, and got knocked down by a flying forearm smash, which incited a decent pop from a section of the fans. Oh, wait, no. The cheers were for the fact that GFS ducked, and the referee got nailed. HA! Kade shook his head at the sight of the referee motionless at his feet, before he turned and walked right into a urange backbreaker from God's Forgotten Son, continuing his astute assault on the back of New York's Finest. With everyone except him on the ground, God's Forgotten Son didn't know what to do exactly. Mr Wallace caught the attention of his client with a whistle, before signing at the mysterious wrestler. A very thin smirk soon followed on the face of God's Forgotten Son, and the dreadlocked enigma slowly pulled Simian Kade up to his feet, and pummelled the Fallen Angel with a bunch of European uppercuts, the last of which knocked Kade into the ropes. And as Simian staggered back towards the middle of the ring, GFS kicked him in the ribs, before a breathtaking legsweep DDT followed. Simian's head was drilled down onto the canvas with amazing ferocity, and he looked pretty much out of it. The referee himself was also still in La-La Land, but this did not deter GFS from dragging himself towards the corner turnbuckle. Uh oh. Big man going to fly? Seemed like it. He carefully scaled to the top of the turnbuckle, as the crowd started to get excited. God's Forgotten Son has managed to astound fans with his ability, but now, he was going to show the world how exactly to fly. Unless, of course, the recovering Fejona Min could do anything about it. Just as GFS leapt off the top with a 270º backflip legdrop! ... ... ... unfortunately enough, Fejona Min pushed Simian Kade out of the way (and out of the ring), forcing GFS to eat canvas. HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! GFS rolled around on the canvas like a fish fresh out of water, while the crowd continued to express their thoughts on the missed high-flying attempt. Fejona Min, meanwhile, simply chuckled as she pulled herself up to her feet, extremely proud of what she'd done. As she hobbled over to the ropes to check on Simian Kade, who was still pretty much out of it and plastered to the protective pads on the outside, Min couldn't help but laugh. Until she was alerted to movement behind her. Yeah, God Forgotten's Son was back up. But, hell, The Enchanting Delinquent was prepared. She hopped forward just as GFS turned to face her, but GFS was surprised as Min took to the ground in a roll. Springing up, Min leapt at GFS and connected with three swift throat thrusts; right, left, right. A forearm shot with the left arm was followed by another one of her trademark spins, and as she completed the spin, Fejona drove her clenched left fist into GFS's, finishing off with an uppercut aimed at the throat of God's Forgotten Son. Those chain of events were all part of a special move, termed by Fejona as 'Surahajana-ken'. In memory of her father. Bottomline was, God's Forgotten Son was laid out on the canvas, and the Cambodian Femme Fatale was on her feet, pretty much assured of victory. Not that the crowd liked it, of course. But with Kade not available to possibly prevent the inevitable from unfolding, and the referee stirring back to life, it appeared to be allllll over. Fejona Min was gonna win. But, damn, did you all really not see it coming? Eh? Come on! SMACK! Coming out of the crowd and sliding into the ring with anger gripping every muscle in his body, QUINTON MAY clocked Fejona Min across the back of the head with a steel chair, and got right into her face as she collapsed to the canvas, watching her chances of advancing in the tournament quickly evaporating into thin air. The crowd went completely ballistic, and as quickly as he appeared, the ACW Television Champion took his leave, steel chair still in his hand, and with that uncharacteriscally vengeful smile on his face. Good bit of revenge for the lad, heh. At ringside, Mr Wallace watched as God's Forgotten Son got up to his feet, none the wiser. As did Simian Kade, who was holding his back in some pain, but suddenly aware of the fact that GFS was about ten seconds away from victory... due to GFS promtply pulling Fejona Min up and further incapacitating the Enchanting Delinquent with his SELFLESS RETRIBUTION finisher. The referee, by now, had completely recuperated. Simian Kade knew he had to act fast, and as such, pulled himself up onto the apron, rapidly climbing to the top of the turnbuckle. In the middle of the ring, GFS was rolling Fejona over and after a quick glance at her nice arse, promptly made the cover. "Now or never!" Kade muttered to himself. ... Just as LANCETT sprinted out from the back and with catlike quickness, jumped up onto the apron and pushed Kade off the top of the turnbuckle. OUCH. That surely had to suck. Good for GFS, though, as the referee counted; ONE. TWO. THREE. And it was over! God's Forgotten Son had advanced! GFS stood up to his feet as the majority of the crowd exploded in a chorus of cheers. Kade, in a crumpled mess on the outside, cursed loudly as the sound of Lancett's laughter mixed in with the announcement of GFS as the winner of the match. Mr Wallace climbed into the ring and applauded his client for the hard-fought victory. Two wins in two matches, and God's Forgotten Son had just taken an outstanding step in the right direction. Fejona Min? Ooooh, she was conscious now. And she was not happy at all. She'd been cheated. She was mere moments away from victory, but Quinton May had decided to pick THAT moment to exact some vengeance. Min was super-pissed as she sat up, her eyes bloodshot. As the saying goes -- --- Hell hath no fury like Fejona Min scorned. Winner > Gods Forgotten Son
Second Link, Part Two
Carter opened the door to Tall Tony, the bookmakers and was instantly his with the waft of musty paper. In the corner was an old punter, magically pushing his horse forward with his fist as the commentator spoke at one million miles per hour, but as they looked around the premises, he was nowhere to be seen. "I've had enough of this." Carter pulled the photo from his pocket, and pressed it up against the booth, were the teller sat behind, with a pen in his ear and a smirk on his face as the man in the corner lost. "Have you seen this man?" The teller raised an eyebrow. "What do you want with him my friend...he is bad news." Carter was getting somewhere. "How do you know that?" "Because I employ him, that's how, he's actually on a job for my right now, should be back in a minute." Just as he finished his sentence, the door blew open, as a overweight Puerto Rican tumbled through the door with a thud, two men following behind him...the second, the man Carter was in search for. "Hey Tony, look who has come to pay a visit!" The first man was of Danish descent, bright blond hair, all natural with a definite slur in his English speech. "He put up a struggle, but you know the Devil Duo can handle anyone in Miami..." He slapped hands with Carter's man, but he didn't even register Carter until he opened his mouth. "Been a long time." The man looked up at Carter, staring through him... "Who the fuck are you?"
Yuri
Yates Vs. Raphael The latest addition to the All-Star Championship Wrestling roster was scheduled to make his in ring debut tonight against one of the Feared Ninja Assassins’ own, Raphael. The latest addition to the roster being the Absolute Behemoth himself, Yuri Yates. Winner > Yuri Yates
You Better Hold Your End Up
*GROWL*
Finding The Answers, Without Knowing The Questions // Part Two
The exact
number of phi? What was it? None of them actually...because not even the Lord above knew the real answers, what Duncan was trying to figure out, was why ACW couldn't keep a roster. It puzzled her.And it puzzled him. "You look like you've been racking' that little brain of yours too much today Hil." SilverHAWK "You know, for a complete and utter jerk, you're not too bad a guy HAWK." He smirked. "Who said I was a jerk?" Rhetorical. Duncan caught that. "So what are you doing here?" "I'm looking over the books from the start of Laguna's take over, and when Brian Carter was owner, and it seems that we've went through an enormous amount of talent from the past year, I'm trying to figure out why." SilverHAWK took a seat on the nearby couch. "Make yourself at home." HAWK nodded. "First of all...use the term "talent" very loosely...if you call guys who can tie their own boots and fart in their own hands talented, then my first name is Albert. Most of the guys Carter took on were either un-motivated or too busy placing their dicks in other feds that they didn't have enough energy to go to all their bookings, greedy little fuckers." Through all the rudeness, and all the dirty south shit talk, Duncan more or less translated that into signing the wrong talent... "So who do you think are guys we should have kept, but are gone?" HAWK was quick off the mark. "None of them." Duncan was a little taken aback. "You mean, you don't think we should have kept any of them." SilverHAWK got to his feet and adjusted his jeans back into place. "Little hun, if these fuckers don't wanna be here, I'll be the first one to kick them out. I don't care if they are fucking God's gift to wrestling, if they don't want to work for ACW, they should be kicked out the door. Simple as." As HAWK took his leave, he was caught back with a last question. "Then how do I know what talent I should be signing?" HAWK turned around a sighed. "You just gotta use your instincts Hillary, you're a smart girl, I'm sure you'll make some good decisions around here...that top was definitely a good one." Duncan looked down at her cleavage and chuckled, but before she could even remark on that pervy comment HAWK was gone...the door left open as the passers by worked on whatever they were working on. "For a total dick...you're a nice guy HAWK."
Second Link, Part Three
- They
where in an unknown area. They were fucked. Basically. "You don't recognise your old boss?" Carter's question sparked a mysterious laugh by the large Scandinavian fellow...much to Carters pleasure it helped lift the tension a little, until he stopped suddenly. "Kyle would never work for a little pipsqueak like you!" Carter gazed at Kyle, puzzled. "But your name isn't Kyle, it's..." "Shut...the...fuck...up." Kyle took a couple of steps forward and came nose to nose with Carter, who was giving all he was getting. "Listen up...I'm in a good mood, so I'm gonna have Tony lower that bat and let you two fucks out of here, on one condition, you get the fuck out of my town and get the fuck out of the state, or else I'll let Tony mind-fuck you into believing your a chicken going for his feed..." Kyle looked over as Tony began to froth from the mouth... "He's weird like that." And then the drop was made. Kyle grabbed Carter by the sides, and yanked him out the door, it was swift, professional and it was done. "So what are we gonna do now Brian?" Carter pulled a piece of card out of his pocket. "Call him."
Yes, it was one match before that Quinton and Osyrus main event… and an impressive pre-main at that, and while certainly tempers had been rising on both sides of the ring, there was an underlying threat to the safety of all those involved tonight in the match. It was the crazy booking-logistics of it all. “Ring Superstar” Unmistakable and unforgettable… nothing like Cypress Hill to get the blood pumping, and nothing like ‘Superstar’ Vince Jacobs; the reason there is a show, or so he says… though honestly the real reason millions of slack jawed rookies have nicknames themselves ‘Superstar’. The crowd, as expected, did not react kindly to the man who made his way down the steel ramp with cold eyes. SVJ slid into the ring, standing in the center, soaking in some more jeering before… waiting for his teammate, a man who had already fought tonight… to Jacobs’ annoyance. “4am” by Our Lady Peace Simian Kade had more then SVJ’s, his partner for the night, threats against him ‘fucking up’ tonight, though. Kade had his own demons to deal with… and as he walked down that ramp, awaiting the man he currently despised and a man he respected, while standing beside someone he didn’t exactly like, while getting a mostly positive reaction. He slid into the ring and raised a hand to the crowd… before exiting to the side of the ring, murmuring to himself about how he found himself in this current position, in hushed tone. ''The Only'' by Static-X Lancett emerged from backstage first. Walking to the bottom of the ramp, Lancett climbed the ring steps up to the apron, though he was hot headed and impatient… Lancett wasn’t so much so… that he’d run into the hands of two men that where growing to hate him very much so. There was Kade, who Lancett just took out of the King of Ages tourney earlier in the day… not by pinning the man, but hey you saw, he caused him the match. *Ahem* Then there was the torn student/teacher relationship between Lancett and SVJ… and hey, that wasn’t going to improve any time soon either. Where forgetting someone though… let’s see, Lancett on the steps, SVJ and Kade on the apron? Hmmm… BOOM BOOM BOOM “Sympathy for the Devil” by the Rolling Stones. Ah yes, our World Champion. Alias ran; full speed out of that entrance… the Canadian crowd giving him one HELL of a reaction (the riot was reserved for the hometown boy, though ;)). Kade, knowing Alias’s wishes, respected ‘em and hopped down to the floor on the other side of the ring, giving SVJ the window to the ring. Alias slid into the ring and motioned his hands, arms stretched out to Jacobs… it was almost like saying ‘Come get some’. Now Lancett… would have jumped into this first portioned, would have loved starting out the match… but he knew that if he was going to push the situation, things would only get uglier and he wouldn’t even get that chance to get to either Simian Kade or even Jacobs. Rather than waiting to see who would be the aggressor, Jacobs leaped into the ring and rushing towards Alias, he pie faced The Pulp Hero, shoving him to the mat. “If you stay down, we can make this a quick one, Chris.” Alias didn’t stay on the mat, however, jumping right back up with a forearm to Jacobs’ sternum, knocking him backwards, and throwing him off balance. Alias sent Vince into the ropes, then into the air with a beautiful back body drop. A second passed, and he hadn’t heard the “THUD” he’d been expecting, but did feel it when Jacobs, who’d landed on his feet, bulldogged him to the mat. Vince clamped in a headlock, then scissored Alias’s right arm with his legs, trying his best to separate the shoulder (*ahem* 2003’s Pain or Pleasure PPV), and get an early advantage. Fighting it, Alias snaked his arm back to safety, and pushed against the mat, trying to get back to his feet. Jacobs struggled to prevent it, but lying down himself, he didn’t quite have the leverage to prevent it. With both men back on their feet, Alias elbowed SVJ, attempting to force him to relax his grip, but no go there. Trying a different tactic, he reached around SVJ’s waist, and attempted to back suplex him, but still no luck. Alias sent a few more elbows into Vince’s gut, and pushed forward as hard as he could, shoving Jacobs into the ropes. That got the Pulp Hero the break he needed, and also provided him the opportunity to fall to the mat and schoolboy the legendary former last CWL Champion. One. Kickout, and an angry one at that. Jacobs kipped back up, spun around and chopped at Alias, who held a quasi-grin on his face. The fans replied with the usual, and another chop followed, then a whip into the ropes, while SVJ bounced off of the other side. They might in the middle of the ring, with Vince delivering a flying forearm that brought Alias down to the mat. For fun, more than any other reason, he hooked the leg. One. Alias got a shoulder up. Vince smirked back at him, then rubbed his forearm and wrist bone against Alias’s face. The old salt Alias cringed, and was brought back to his feet, and whipped into the corner that held Jacobs’ tag partner. He knew the score, and tried to yell at Lancett to tell him to stay in his corner and not mess shit up, but it fell on deaf ears as SVJ rushed the Pulp Hero’s “home” corner, stopping just short of striking Lancett. The ref tried his best to keep Lancett at bay, though Kade played the good guy role that he was starting to lately… and didn’t take the advantage to strike Alias, instead pushing him out of the corner and towards Jacobs. Alias took that chance and momentum to blindside Vince with a hard clothesline. Alias yanked Jacobs to the ropes, but as he did so, Lancett took the opportunity that Alias was standing as close as he was… and slapped his back for the blind tag. Alias turned his head in confusion and fasting mounting frustration as Lancett hopped into the ring, on the rebound off the ropes though, SVJ slid through the legs of Alias and then pushed on the ankles of the 6’4” Action! star. Alias fell to his back, Vince rolling out the way with a laugh just in time as the champion hit the canvas and rolled from the ring. Knowing the prone position he was in, Jacobs continued to roll away from Lancett’s now hurried advance… leading him directly into Jacobs’ own corner… a quick tag to Kade and, after said surprising team work with Simian, a springboard dropkick from Kade to Lancett. The crowd cheered said move, as Lancett was starting to gain a bit of revenge. Lancett, dazed, retreated to a neutral corner, and his opponent was there right after him with some more lefts and rights to the skull…now a knee strike…now, backing up…now a running knee strike… Lancett stumbled out of the corner, but, before falling face first to the mat, Simian Kade grabbed the back of his head by the shortly spiked hair and turned him around into a DDT. Yes, Kade was NOT fucking around, not after being taken out of the KoA, his chance. Not after that. The ref slid in as Simian pushed a forearm into the “grill” of Lancett… One! Two! Kickout! Scooping Lancett off the mat, what Kade received for his troubles was a swift kick in the stomach that doubled him over and Lancett, now, jumped to the middle turnbuckle, spring boarding back and twisting back with a hard elbow. The crowd jeered said turn of events, as now both men from ACW’s ‘new class’ lay worn and beaten on the mat… the ‘old ACW’ stalwarts on the outside, trying to talk up there respective teammate… or was it that Alias was trying to pump up Kade and SVJ just wanted to go after Alias, again? Well, that was the fun of this match. Not knowing what was in the minds of these four guys. Lancett got to his feet with the help of the ropes as Kade also was getting to his feet. Kade went for a clothesline on Lancett put Randy ducked and hooked Kade from behind and drove him down with a hangman’s neck breaker. Randy quickly went for the cover on Kade. One! Two! Thre-- No!! Save by SVJ! Lancett didn’t take to kind of SVJ interfering as he nailed Jacobs with a forearm shot from behind that sent Jacobs flying to the floor. This didn’t sit well with the Superstar as he tried to get in the ring but the ref was holding him back from trying to get in. Lancett was dancing around taunting Vince to get in the ring. SVJ made it to his corner as he looked in the ring at his young protégé. Lancett flipped off SVJ as he went to Kade to pick him up but Kade surprised Lancett with an Inside Cradle. One! Two! Thr-- No! Kickout by Lancett!! Kade crawled over to his corner and stuck his hand out for the tag. Jacobs made the tag as the fans erupted to see teacher versus student in the ring. Lancett turned around and looked at his teacher eye to eye. Lancett stuck his hand out for a handshake from his former teacher. Vince laughed as he nailed Lancett with a big right hand. Vince continued to nail Lancett with a series of right hands that backed him up to the ropes. Jacobs whipped Lancett into the ropes. Lancett bounced off the ropes and was nailed with a high vertical dropkick that sent Lancett sprawling to the floor. Vince pointed over to Alias and gave him the one finger salute before picking up Lancett again. Jacobs hooked Lancett for a vertical suplex but Lancett reversed the mover and hooked Jacobs from behind. Randy hooked Vince and drove him down to the mat with the Falling Star. Lancett just used one of SVJ’s move on him. Lancett hoped to his feet in excitement as he just dropped his mentor to the floor. Lancett was so excited he stumbled backwards near Alias who made the blind tag. Alias bolted into the ring and quickly hooked Jacobs in a single leg Boston Crab. Jacobs screamed in pain as Lancett was forced out of the ring. Vince tried to ease his way to the bottom rope but Alias was putting more pressure on that leg and back. “Give up Vince.” Alias yelled Jacobs reached for the bottom ropes as Kade and Lancett looked on. He was not going to give up not at any cost. “Fuck you Chris.” Vince took one final lunge and grabbed the bottom ropes. The ref had to get Alias to break the hold now but Alias was not letting the hold go. The ref started to make the count for Alias to break the hold. One! Two! Three! Four! Alias broke the hold before the count of five. Vince pulled himself to the floor in pain. He held his back as he tried to get back into the ring. Vince walked up the stairs looking at Alias. He should tag out but his pride wouldn’t let him do that. Jacobs got into the ring and looked at Alias who charged after him. Wrong move as he got a thumb to the eye by Vince. Vince hooked Alias and drove him down with a quick Starburst. Jacobs was not done as he went to the top rope. Jacobs pointed to Alias on the mat and flipped off Lancett before diving off the top rope and nailing Alias with the Five Star. Vince bounced off of Alias from the impact. He quickly went for the cover. One! Two! Thre--- No!! Lancett made the save. Jacobs looked up and wonder where was Kade. Kade stayed in the corner looking on. Jacobs got to his feet and started to yell at Kade. Vince slapped Kade on his chest as the ref considered it a tag as he motioned for Kade to get in the ring to face Alias. Kade got into the ring as Jacobs continued to berate Kade. Simian couldn’t take it anymore as he dropped Vince to the mat with a big right hand. Jacobs held his jaw as he looked on at Kade. Kade turned around to see where Alias was but was distracted as Vince yelled to Kade. “Hey bitch.” Kade shouldn’t have turned his back on Jacobs or punched him as Kade turned around and was nailed with a swift Superstar Kick. Jacobs had enough as he threw his hands up and walked out of the ring. Alias didn’t know what to do as he just went for the cover on Kade. End of the match, right…. WRONG!! Lancett wanted to make the cover on Kade. So he drove an elbow into the back of Alias’ head knocking him down. Jacobs laughed from the aisle as he saw this. He made his way back to the ring to belittle Alias who was laid out on the mat. Vince slid into the ring and starting to yell at Alias on the mat. Lancett didn’t take to kindly to this as he pulled Vince up and shoved him. Jacobs jumped right back into Lancett face as the two men came to blows in the middle of the ring. Lancett nailed Vince with a low blow as he hooked Vince for a power bomb but Vince reversed the move. The next thing that happened was the crowd erupting. Why you ask? Well Kade nailed Lancett from behind and Alias nailed SVJ from behind. Alias hooked SVJ in the Anarchy’s Lullaby as Vince screamed out in pain. Kade waited for Lancett to get to his feet and nailed him with the Downfall DDT!! The crowd erupted as Kade stood over Lancett victorious and Alias continued to apply the Anarchy’s Lullaby to Jacobs who was tapping like his life depended on it. Courage went to commercial.. Winner > No Contest
Second Link, Part Four
"Hello." "Kyle huh...how long have you been playing that out?" "Doesn't matter, first things first, since when did you fall from the sky?" "What?" "You were dead Carter, as dead as dead can be...when did you come back?" "Two weeks or so ago..." "And why are you looking for me?" Carter took a deep breath. "I want your help." Even on the phone he could see him smirking. "My help? For what?" "To take back ACW." Even on the phone he could see him smirking. "Fine." Carter's brain: "That was easier than I thought." "And if you think I'm just gonna follow you about like some sort of sheep then you have another thing coming." CLICK. Carter smiled as he flipped his phone shut... "Seems to be a recurring theme Lilani, wonder if it means I'm the Sheppard...or am I a sheep?"
OFF
CAMERA
The clock was ticking, and it would be a matter of minutes before the Canadian Gladiator stepped into the ring for what would surely be his greatest test ever. Against an opponent he once defeated, albeit via disqualification. And even then, the post-match attack ended up putting Quincy out of action for close to five whole weeks. Nonetheless, Quinton was ready. He stood to his feet, decked out in a black sleeveless Nike tanktop, and black trackpants of the same brand. He'd been in the mood to wear Nike products, for some odd reason, but May shook his head, dispelling the thought of whether he should have worn Adidas-sponsored clothing. He had more important things to focus on. Such as, of course, Osyrus. A monster who was also a Television Champion; of theAsylum. Sitting back down on the bench, Quinton thought through all he'd experienced on the night. The revelation of Osyrus being the new thorn in his side, and the eventual matchmaking decision. The successful screwing up of Fejona Min's opportunity to advance in the KOA 2004 Tournament. The confrontation with Lancett directly after that. And now, he was going to put it ALL on the line. Title, body, livelihood, and so much so in the grander scheme of it all. Even if he didn't know what the whole scheme was about. Which was why he had to win. To attain the answers that he needed to know. "Well, well, well. Big bad Quinton, moving on up in the world. Bloody entertaining." Quincy Mama stumbled out of his chair and spun around, a full 360º, with those haunting words suddenly piercing the calm silence that was swirling around in the room. He couldn't quite fathom what he was going on, until he stopped, realising how familiar the accent of the voice that just spoke to him sounded. It couldn't be, May thought. It really, simply couldn't be. But then, there HE was, suddenly in front of Quinton. VINCENT PEMBRIDGE Quinton gulped. This was completely unreal, yet there he stood. "Y-Y-You're dead. This isn't real. I-I must have fallen asleep or something. You're d-d-dead." "Eh. Okay." Vincent replied with that trademark evil smirk on his face. "And you're a sodding ponce. I'm glad we got through this 'reintroductions' bollocks, but frankly, I don't have a lot of bloody time." May shook his head, not believing it. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and mumbled something to himself, but when he opened his eyes, there Vincent Pembridge was. Arms folded, and as cock a bastard as he ever was. Interesting enough, he was wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of faded gray jeans -- in short, the same clothes he wore during the Tribute Show. Ahhh, that often-mentioned but never-seen Tribute Show. One that ended with a... 'bang'. "I... don't understand." Quincy managed to spit out, as he took a step back and sat back down on the bench, trying to make heads and tails out of what was happening to him. Had he really taken a snooze? What an opportune time to take a nap, too, with his big match almost upon him. Pembridge, though, simply scoffed at May's inability to comprehend. "You manky piece of shite. I take extreme measures to escape that hole for a short visit and that's all you can say? Bloody hell, you DO remember who the fack I am, aye?" Vincent started ranting, staring a hole through his enemy. "Or does nobody really give a flying fack about me anymore? That's pretty bleedin' sad, you know. I had plans. Monster plans. Ahh, well. Let me break it down for you, mate. Yes, I am dead. Or so goes the story. And no, I'm not real. I wish I was, though, so that I could beat the fack out of you. That's all I'm going to bloody tell you for now, I'm afraid." Quinton blinked, still failing to make sense of this all. Vincent's explanation didn't serve to clear up anything, either. Pembridge had mention and inferred to being in some other place, instead of being dead, as May thought he was. And the thought of the Scorpion of Manchester not being dead frightened the Canadian Gladiator. It frightened him down to the very essence of his soul. Still pacing about the room, looking as real as ever, Vincent Pembridge wiped the smile of his face. "Now, then, to get down to business. As I said, I don't have a lot of time, and doing this actually irks the bloody hell out of me, but I suppose a twannock like you could do with some friendly advice. Whatever you do tonight, Quinton, remember one thing. ... You are the biggest waste of semen that ever walked this bloody planet." And just as abruptly as he'd appeared, Vincent Pembridge disappeared. Quinton looked up, completely enraged at the cheek of his enemy, but the Scorpion was gone. Not there. Completely evaporated from plain sight. May was even more perplexed now. Pinching himself, Quincy realised he wasn't asleep and dreaming. This was for real. He stood to his feet and cleared his throat, puzzled at the conversation he'd just had, with a dead man. Or somewhat dead, as the dead man claimed. May shook his head once more, before deciding it was time to forget about everything, and go ahead with his showdown against the Personification of Talent. The former TWO-TIME ACW World Champion. Rising Star versus The Baddest Man on the planet; the titanic clash is... NEXT!
So, then, here we are. Quinton May, the federation's quintessential Rising Star. He's had that moniker for close to a year now, but he's earned it, and continues to prove why exactly he was called that. With every week, the man defies all the odds and obstacles that's thrown in front of him. What more could you ask for from a hero, eh? On the other side of the equation, we have two women who're playing it cool, yet pulling out all the stops in trying to do what they were hired to do. And that would be... to screw with the hero. Fejona Min & Natalie Quinston have secretly gone to extremes to get Quinton May all softened up for this night, so that he'd be easy pickings. Easy pickings for the Anti-Social Hero. Easy pickings for the man who needs no real introductions. He's famous. He's famously feared, more like it. Either way, Osyrus doesn't care. He has nothing to lose here. And a man with nothing to lose is the most dangerous opponent you could possibly face. And, hey, if Osyrus wins the Television Title in the process, that's just gravy. Would add to his Asylum Television Title. Now, then. The stage was set. Let's get on with it. "Make A Move" by Lostprophets started to play over the speakers in the Adie Knox Herman Arena, and the predominantly Windsor 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 and their hometown hero 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. The ACW Television Champion. Stepping out onto the stage, Quincy Mama raised his right arm into the air, holding up his Television Title, to a *HUGE* chorus of cheers. Although he smiled while quickly strolling toward the majestic ring, on the inside May was feeling distraught about the turn of events, which had gone too far. Tossing his Television title into the ring, before sliding himself onto the canvas, Quincy Mama used the top rope to stretch out before his adversary made his arrival. An enemy that the Canadian Gladiator could not have possibly been prepared for. Speaking of the devil, ask and you shall receive. The Adie Knox Herman Arena was plunged into immense darkness once again, which was followed by a heavy metal guitar solo that could be interpreted as a variation of a funeral song. Suddenly, red strobe lights illuminated the backstage tunnel, whilst a haze a smoke lifted upward as the ominous guitar riffs were joined by thunderous clashing of the drums. The music continued to build up suspense for the audience, who watched the entrance in extreme anticipation as the lyrics of Lee Dorian's "Ice Cold Man" performed by Probot entered the airwaves with a cold chill. Vampires
of this earth hungry dying of thirst, Ice Cold Man watches earth die And that said individual finally revealed himself onto the world; stepping through the reddish smoke cloud as his name appeared on the ACWtron over his right shoulder.in blood red font at the same time as Osyrus unemotionally looked out into the sea of the awaiting Canadians, as flash bulbs went off as ACW's first World Champion had reemerged onto the scene. But this was not a social visit, not a return to say 'hello' or 'how have you been, ACW?'. Heck no. Osyrus had returned for one sole reason, and that was to destroy one Quinton May. When the former two-time ACW champion reached the ring, he rose up his right arm, sliding his thumb across his throat which definite sign of things to come for May. Not intimidated in the least, Quinton waited for the precise moment to strike as Osyrus made his way up the metal steps, across the apron as he ducked into the ring. Now was the time, Quinton sprinted over the parallel ropes where Osyrus was still entering the ring, before the latter was stunned by a stiff forearm shot to the back of his neck (can anyone say *DING DING DING*?). Several forearms followed as Christensen tried to use his strength to distance himself from the enraged May, but when the current ACW Television moved backwards, he knocked Osyrus completely off of the apron with an enzuguri. Osyrus stumbled onto the arena floor as the fans were going crazy at this point, cheering on the Canadian Gladiator, who pumped his right fist into the air. Glancing over his right shoulder; May threw himself into the opposite ropes with a lot of momentum, as he charged forward and toped over the ropes to land on the current Asylum Television Champion. It seemed like a good plan; really, it did. But it never happened. Quinton caught a clothesline in midair, which knocked him to the arena floor with authority. And Quinton's head didn't feel much better when the seething monster pulled him up from the ground by his pants, onto his massive shoulder, following which, Osyrus snake-eyed May's head onto the steel steps. Ouch. Quinton bounced back onto the blue mats below, as Osyrus stood over him while choking him with his right boot. The referee, a sickly looking bastard who was probably impotent, warned Osyrus with a disqualification, but the San Diego native only smirked to himself as he flipped off the ref, before rolling May back into the ring. Although dazed, adrenaline still pumped in the veins of the Windsor native, thus he was able to pull himself to his feet as Quinton clocked Osyrus with a jumping snap roundhouse kick! Osyrus went down momentarily, and May made sure that he kept his advantage going by mounting his large adversary's chest, releasing a flurry of punches to the face. Slowly, more of May's strikes were blocked, and before the ACW fan favorite knew it, Osyrus had reversed positions and now the latter was on top. That wasn't a good thing, folks. I don't have to tell you that, now do I? Using his immense power, Christensen had pinned Quinton's arms to the canvas whilst measuring May with overhand right haymakers; unblocked, mind you. Three punches into his slow dissection of ACW's Television Champion, Osyrus was caught by surprise once May lifted his feet off of the mat, cradling Fejona Min's hired gun into a roll up. Quite intelligent, the little bugger was; ONE. TWO. ... Yeah, SURE. Osyrus was able power out somewhat easily from the pinning predicament, almost muting the hometown crowd. Each competitor rolled back to a vertical base simultaneously, and Osyrus seemed quicker of the two, dashing forward as he prepped himself to level May with another clothesline. However, the latter evaded the contact with a sidestep and when Osyrus turned back around, he was greeted with a string ferocious European uppercuts. Quinton's strikes seemed to have no effect, unfortunately enough for him, as the massive tA competitor flung them off; before charging again and like previous attempts to run the speedy M15 Survivor down, Osyrus was too slow. BUT! He *was* fast enough to run smack into a beautiful drop-sault from Quinton 'who says white men can't jump' May. Another nicknames to add to the list there. Thanks, Jerel! :-) Stunned, Osyrus used the ropes to ascend back to his feet after being knocked into the ropes, but he didn't have any time to recover as Quinton smashed his adversary in the jaw with a right hook. The Rising Star's quick hands were able to attack several parts of the body at once; and then May grabbed Osyrus by his right arm, trying to shoot him across the ring. But the 'Anti-Social Hero' was still too strong, reversing the whip mid-ring as he grounded the high flyer on his return with a ring-shaking powerslam! Being the asshole that he was, Osyrus ignored the possible pinning opportunity, raising his right elbow up slightly as he drove it into Quinton's larynx callously. BOOO, went the crowd. Naturally, ha. Numerous elbow attacks followed the first as Osyrus cautiously lifted the hometown hero to his feet, talking smack to the self-proclaimed Castaway prior to planting May with a stiff swinging neckbreaker into the cover. The referee dropped onto the canvas, ready to count, but Osyrus promptly pulled Quinton's shoulder up, chuckling as he did so. The match would not be over that soon, because more punishment had to be dealt out. That was the order to Osyrus from Fejona Min, and by word, 'Asar' would live up to his promise. The former ACW World Champion lifted up Quinton by the neck, and struck with a vicious punch to the face. A second punch was attempted but the Survivor of M15 blocked and fired off a punch of his own. Kicking Osyrus in the stomach to back him up, May decided to borrow a page out of Chris Benoit's playbook, slapping on a front facelock for a snap suplex. Osyrus used his leg to block the suplex, though. Tricky bastard Stopped but not completely thwarted, May was able to move the referee out of position, and connected with a cheeky low-blow to the gonads of the 'Personification of Talent', followed up by a vicious snap suplex. Then, Quincy Mama hooked the legs and ordered the referee to count; ONE. TWO. KICK-OUT! KICK-OUT! MY GOD, HE KICKED OUT! ... Yeah, I apologise for the overzealousness there, ahem. Too much caffiene in the system. Annnnyways, heh, Quinton May had that same disappointed look on his face as the rest of the crowd did, but it didn't deter the Rising Star from pulling Osyrus up to his feet and firing away with a series of spirited hooks to the face. Osyrus appeared to be reeling, and May decided to put all his eggs in one basket, bouncing himself off the ropes to launch the next phase of his attack. Too bad Osyrus was simply playing possum. The so-called Baddest Man on the planet lunged forward and caught Quincy Mama with a rolling knee to the ribs, a'la Mick Foley. Quinton May flipped down to the canvas after a semi-somersault, and as he flopped up back to his feet, Osyrus stunned him with a massive hiptoss. You don't usually see Osy doing something like that. But, hey, this was a special night. That much was pretty obvious when he grabbed the big-hearted Quinton by his red tinted hair as he scrambled up to his feet, and whipped him into the ropes. Upon May's return, Osyrus pushed the ACW Television Champion up in the air in a flapjack, before dropping the latter down to the canvas in a DDT-like move. Pretty impressive stuff there. Crowd hated it, though, as much as they hated the ensuing cover; ONE. TWO. TH - SHOULDER. With a low growl that resembled a purr, Osyrus shot the referee a harsh glare, before turing back to Quinton on the ground, and wrapping his huge arm around his throat. That's usually called a blatant choke in most neck of the woods, and the crowd showed their disapproval for Osy's tactics, and started to toss stuff at him. Like, uhhh, condoms. And paper cups. And dildos. Damn, these Canadians are a sick bunch, innit? Sheesh. Milking the referee's 5-count until the last instant, Osyrus finally relinquished the blatant choke and laughed as he pulled Quincy Mama up to his feet, smacking him in the face with a brace of hooks before whipping him into one of the corner turnbuckles. Whiplash effect in motion, and that allowed 'Asar' to charge forward in hopes of a clothesline. Only thing was, Quinton ducked it, and kickstarted the engine. CHOP! Oh yeah, baby. You knew it was coming. CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! Four fierce chops to the chest. Would make any man cry, but Osyrus simply clutched his sternum, in obvious agony. With his confidence skyrocketing, Quinton May whipped himself into the ropes and came soaring back with a cross body block, hoping to build on the momentum he's mustered. Osyrus, though, sidestepped to the right. Wise fucker. May tasted the canvas and grimaced, clutching his ribs as he struggled to his feet. Turning around was not a good idea, for Osyrus shot himself into the ropes and decimated Quincy Mama with a clothesline that turned the latter inside out in a bad way. Suffice to say, the crowd were pretty damn concerned now. Especially with Osy's cockiness shining through brilliantly. Stompity stompity stomp, he then went, maliciously driving his right boot down onto the back of Quincy's right shoulder. Up to this point, Osyrus had the lion's share of the offense, and was looking completely in control of the situation. Which was why the Anti-Social Hero wanted to go one step further. CRASSSHHH The referee went ballistic and got into the face of Osyrus, who was almost orgasmic over what he'd done. Them announcers scuttled away from the debris, while the hometown crowd opened their mouths and hurled obscenities at the man that had picked Quinton May up, gorilla pressed him over his head, then tossed him out of the ring and through the announce table. Osyrus, though, didn't listen to the crowd. And he sure as hell didn't want to listen to the referee's garbled admonishment, which was why the Anti-Social Hero punked the referee out with a single punch, before rolling out of the ring. With a calculated swagger, Osyrus approached Quincy Mama, who was somehow pulling himself up from within the pieces of the broken table. Osy's eyes suddenly fell upon one of them television monitors, and he smirked. But he didn't pick one up. Instead, he shoved Quinton back into the barricade and started pummelling away at the ACW Television Champion with furious right hands, packing all of his ungodly power behind those punches. Shot after shot rained down on May's face, and he looked completely wasted. Spent. Out of it. Which was probably why Osyrus decided to add insult to injury, courtesy of a belly-to-belly. Quinton floundered on the ground, amid the debris of the broken table, his spine further suffering from that powerful belly-to-belly suplex. The referee was still laid out in the ring, which only allowed Osyrus the freedom of picking up the television monitor. Despite the protests of the crowd, of course. And so, as Quincy Mama used the apron to help himself up to his feet, Osyrus went ahead and swung the monitor at Quinton. Academic, right? WRONG! Almost as if he had eyes in the back of the head, the Rising Star saved himself with a sidestepping hopping sidekick to Osy's gut, before he unleashed a pair of desperation forearm smashes to the face of Asar. With Osyrus reeling slightly, Quinton decided to hopefully move in for the kill. So, he somersaulted himself up onto the apron like it was gym class, and took flight with hopes of scoring with a bionic elbow. Anything it took to derail Osyrus, he thought. A thought that soon evaporated. THWACK Because, see, Osyrus still had the damn television monitor in his grasp. Down Quinton went in a crumpled heap, with blood flowing out of his temple. He wasn't completely unconscious, evident by the man actually trying to scramble to his feet. This infuriated Osyrus, and Osy tossed the twisted monitor aside, almost hitting one of the enraged fans. The Personification of Talent now had a chair in his possession, after forcing the ring announcer to get the fuck out of dodge. What do you think happened next? Damn straight. Osy ran over Quincy Mama with the steel chair, really doing a number on the ACW Television Champion whose reign looked like it was going to end. The crowd screamed at Osyrus, some even pleading with him to end the punishment. All Osy did in response to that was to pick up May's limp body and roll him into the ring. After discarding the dented chair, of course. And with the referee so conveniently recovering completely at the same time, Osyrus saw it fit to pin the bloodied Survivor of M15. This was over, folks. So, the referee crawled alongside Osyrus, and started counting; ONEEEEEEEE. TWOOOOOOOO. THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. ... !!! Quincy Mama kicked out. No, that was not a typo. Taken aback for a moment, Osyrus shook his head at the referee's slightly delayed reaction to the count, but didn't dwell too much on it. Instead, he went back to work on Quincy Mama, laying into him with forearm smashes of the painful variety. Quinton couldn't even get his hands up to protect himself. This wasn't looking good. Espeically when Osyrus dragged May up to his feet and knocked him back into the ropes with a discus punch, catching the Canadian Gladiator by the throat as he staggered back toward the middle of the ring. Curtains, this would be. The crowd resigned themselves to the same thought, especially after watching Osyrus lift May up in the air for a chokeslam. Thanks for playing, Quinton. You did well... ... wait a damn second. Was that a counter? Did Quinton just suddenly counter with an armbar takedown into a crossface submission? Why, I believe HE FUCKING DID. OH MY GOD, WHAT THE FUCK, BAR-BE-QUE. Somehow, some way, Quincy had stirred back into life. And he'd done so by countering a chokeslam into a crossface submission. The roof of the arena flew off its top, and in the middle of the ring, Osyrus growled and howled with agony. Quinton May had somehow trapped him with the clutches of a crossface submission, and the Anti-Social Hero could not do a damn thing about it. Ropes were too far away for him to reach, and Quincy had the hold cinched in pretty tightly. Next best option, then. Osyrus used his free hand to reach over and tug at Quinton's hair, pulling it back. Then smashing it down onto the canvas. That did the trick, and also served as a major wet blanket, muting the home crowd. The Castaway rolled away, blood in his eyes and head throbbing as a whole, but he'd come quite close to actually pulling off the win outta nowhere. Gotta give him credit for that, eh? Getting up to his feet, slightly less for wear, Osyrus rushed over to Quinton and stomped away at the back of his head, before standing off and jawing to the fans. This allowed May to get to his knees, at which point, Osyrus again made his move, wrapping his arms around the Canadian Gladiator's body. Powerbomb time? Looked like it. But, Quincy wasn't about to cave in so easily and quickly. He stood his ground and made it hard for Osyrus to try and lift him. And as Osyrus growled, deciding to fire overhand forearm shots to Quincy's spine to weaken the Television Champion, the latter struck with a back body-drop, using the untapped strength in his legs to good use! However, Osyrus remarkably landed on his feet. What was even more remarkable was Quincy sensing that his nemesis would land on his feet, and May sent himself towards the ropes. The so-called Baddest Man on the planet grinned as Quinton returned, and Osyrus swung his arm wildly for a clothesline. Quinton ducked, though, and used his momentum to carry himself into the parrallel set of ropes. Surprised and perplexed, the Anti-Social Hero turned around. JUST IN TIME TO FEEL THE FULL EFFECT OF QUINCY'S SPRINGBOARD TWISTING DROPKICK! The fans loved that exchange, and were now in full voice, supporting Quincy Mama all the way. Quinton kipped to his feet and taunted Osyrus to come at him, taking down the latter with an armdrag. Incensed, Osyrus jumped back to his feet and ran at May again, only to get hiptossed for his troubles. Really mad now, Osyrus decided to take a crack at it one last time. Quinton cut him off with a kick to the cut, doubling Osyrus over, before the former bounced himself off the ropes and scored with a big-time bulldog. And with the Asylum Television Champion flat on his back on the canvas, May ran to the ropes once more, and treated his hometown crowd to a special double-springboard Asai moonsault that connected oh-so-sweetly. Despite claret pouring down his face, Quinton managed to make a good cover; ONE. TWO. THRE - NOOOOO! Osyrus managed to kick out, and appeared relieved at being able to do so. Whew, close one there, Asar. Getting dragged to his feet, Osyrus found his chest under attack again with another series of knife-edged chops. His angry eyes widened with each blistering strike to his sternum, and before Osyrus could even formulate a block or something, he found his jaw being knocked out of place courtesy of a spinning backfist. By the time Osyrus cleared the cobwebs out of his head, Quinton was all ready to knock Osy out of the ring with a running clothesline. Not gonna happen, May. Osyrus raised his right boot up and introduced it to Quinton's face. Something like this: 'Hi, assface! Meet my secksy boot!'. Yeah, that sounds right. Anyway, Quinton stumbled back, but was able to recover and take the charging Osyrus down with a drop toe hold. Osyrus felt embarrassed for even being floored with that move, funnily enough. Getting up to his feet, though, Osyrus started to wonder how Quinton was doing all of this. Especially when he kicked Osy in the ribs and somehow planted him with a snap suplex. Keeping his hold on Osyrus, the Canadian Gladiator spun his hips and dragged his adversary up for a second suplex, possibly. Instead, though, May had something else in mind. First, he hung Osyrus up on the top rope with a crotch buster, inciting applause from the crowd. Then, Quinton raced over to the corner and leapt up onto the turnbuckle. Finally, as he displayed shocking agility to walk the top rope, May jumped onto Osy's shoulders and took him down with a beautiful hurricaranna. The best of all-time, I reckon. Ahem, yeah. The fans? Oh, they enjoyed that one. "QUINCY
MAMA!" Crawling over, Quincy made the cover, hoping he'd done enough; ONE. TWO. THRE - SHOULDER! Yeeeah, he hadn't. Osyrus still had too much in him. Pulling the former ACW & PIW badass up, Quinton decided to approach the big man in another way, firing shots at different parts of Osy's body. Like as if May was reliving a boxing match of sort. An vile uppercut after about twenty seconds of jukin' and jivin' almost knocked Osy's teeth out, and he kept this in mind when Quinton tried to whip him into the corner. Osyrus hanged on, and yanked poor ol' Quinton towards him, derailing the Canadian Gladiator with a smart samoan drop. Wise choice from Osy, sticking to the basics, especially when his power was the defining factor in that turnaround. Rolling on his belly, the Asylum Television Champion made the cover; ONE. TWO. THREEEEEE - NO! SHOULDER! OH LORDY! Osyrus again shook his head, disagreeing with the count. Standing him, he dragged Quincy up and onto his shoulders by the waistband of his trackpants, squeezing May's head with his hands once the hometown hero was draped over his shoulders. Following which, Osyrus resorted back to the gorilla press. Majority of the crowd jeered, not quite appreciating the damage inflicted and about to be inflicted on their ACW Television Champion and overall good guy. Osyrus simply shrugged, and immediately dropped Quinton down, face-first onto the turnbuckle. Naturally, most of the crowd didn't enjoy that. The referee shared the same sentiment, but by the time he got over to the corner, Osyrus was already sneering at him, basically telling him to buzz off. The hired gun of Fejona Min brushed past the referee and upon noting Quinton's position, on his hand and knees, sent a harsh kick into the side of Quincy's ribs. The TV Champion fell face-first onto the mat, grimacing and hollering out in pain. The brute strength and power of Osyrus had been effectively showcased during the opening minutes of the match, but now, there was more mindless violence than anything else, as Osyrus started stomping away at the back of May's head. All his power was channeled through those kicks, and Osyrus realised that the longer this match continued, the more of a disadvantage Quinton would be at. A tricky match last week against Kelly Flawless, a tough one against Hiro Kitagami over in tSC two days earlier. Good chance of ending it soon, then, Osy thought quietly to himself. Growing weary of the stomping, Osyrus pulled Quinton up and sent him flying into one of the four corners of the ring with a well-measured uppercut. With May stuck leaning against the turnbuckle, 'Asar' charged ahead and connected with a vicious shoulder barge into the Big-Hearted Canadian's ribs, almost knocking all the wind out of the latter. Mama mia, si senor. The Personification of Talent finally started to feel at ease, with the match firmly in his control, and began to unload with a flurry of stiff close-range hooks to Quinton's face, hoping to bust him open even more. The referee didn't like what was going on and ordered Omar to break it up. Instead, the Asylum TV Champ turned around to momentarily snap at the referee, before turning back to Quinton and kicking him in the ribs. Thereafter, he whipped him into the opposite corner, following close behind himself On this occasion, however, the bruised Quinton May managed to use the velocity of the Irish whip to his favour. Usually, he would have crashed face-first into the turnbuckle; this time around, he found himself leaping onto the second-rope and magically somersaulting over Osy's head, who'd been intending to possibly connect with a half-nelson suplex. Stunned by how Quincy Mama managed to pull off that stunt, Osyrus found himself further surprised seconds later, upon Quinton's landing. Because May just rolled him up in a roll-up pin. Suckas. The result? Let's see; ONE. TWO. THRE - NO! Unlucky for Quinton, heh. Osyrus wasn't going to be beat by something so simple. Pffft. Both men raced to their feet and with the crowd's excitement at fever pitch (the match looked like it would never end!), the two competitors charged at each other, bannking on the last tank or two of their energy reserve. Quinton evaded a wild swing from Osyrus as the two converged in the middle of the ring, and the Castaway was now on fire, unleashing strikes to Osy's legs. Trying to weaken the vertical base there, oui? Wobbly, Osyrus finally managed to block one of Quinton's kicks with his forearm, and duly shoved May away from him to get some sort of respite. Quincy Mama, though, utilised the shove as a launching pad of sorts; bouncing off the ropes, the Canadian Gladiator came roaring back with a leaping forearm uppercut, which knocked Osyrus back into the ropes. And as Osyrus came off those same ropes, something completely astounding happened. The tiny bugger actually POWERSLAMMED Osyrus! Needless to say, the crowd were delirious, and Osy's eyes widened with shock as he jolted right back to his feet, hand on his lower spine area. His effort at getting right back at Quincy only allowed May to evade once again, and lift him up for what seemed like an inverted atomic drop. There was a slight twist, though. Not that Pepsi Lemon Twist nonsense, no. Quincy straddled Osyrus down onto the ropes like he did earlier on, and all the little Omar Christensens retreated into the nether regions of the prostrate. What? Too graphic for ya? WEAK! Now, then. Let's examine this. Osyrus, hung up on the ropes with his crotch on fire once more. The referee was letting it all go. The fans were screaming for Quincy to finish 'Asar' off. What course of action did the Survivor of M15 take? Very simple. He ran over to the corner, jumped up onto the turnbuckle... and walked the rope. Toward Osyrus. Once he got close enough, Quinton May jumped at his adversary, and snapped him off down onto the canvas with one of those flying tornado DDT variants! HOLLLLLY SHEEET? Yes, sir. Cover? Indeed; ONE. TWO. THREEEEE - NUH UH! Osyrus once again proved how god-damn resilient he was, kicking out, drawing a miffed groan from Quinton May. He figured he'd done just everything he could, yet, Osyrus wasn't going to stay down long enough to ensure the victory. Exhausted and aching all over, May pulled Osy up by the back of the neck and fired another two chops to the chest, before attempting to whip the big man into the corner. As if that was going to really happen. Osyrus reversed it mid-move, and sent Quincy Mama crashing into the turnbuckle face first, even knocking one of May's tooth out of his mouth. Talk about gruesome, eh? The Rising Star, on dreamstreet, staggered back, completely oblivious to Osyrus winding up behind him for a running clothesline all the way from HEEELLLL. Orrr, was he really oblivious? The show of the same name is ghey, by the way. Ahem. I only bring up the oblivious bit because somehow, Quinton took to a backward roll, effectively saving himself from being hammered with the clothesline. Osyrus, though, had awesome reflexes of his own. He stopped himself from hitting the turnbuckle (not looking like a complete moron in the process), and hoisted himself up onto the top of the turnbuckle. And as Quincy sprung up to his feet, the former 2-time ACW World Champ took to an uncharacteristic twisting cross body block. Man's not known for his high-flying abilities, although one assumes he can dish out the pain from up there. Pain was exactly what he got, then. No, not Quinton. That dumb referee was made to take the fall, with Quinton May diving to his right, once again wisely evading Osy's offense. The Personification of Talent cursed as he got to his feet, his eyes transfixed on the downed referee at his feet. Why can't they be smarter by just a teeny bit, Omar thought. For a bit too long, though, he thought. Long enough for Quinton to sneak up... and hit his URBANE REPEALMENT finisher! YAY, IT WAS OVER! Let's count together, shall we? Good. Here goes; ONE. TWO. FOUR. NINE. SIX THOUSAND AND EIGHT. ... I did not fail Mathematics, just so you know. I'm pretty good at it, actually. Just that, the referee was still out cold from Osyrus colliding into him, and the crowd jeered loudly, not believing the travesty that was unfolding in the ring. Letting go of the bridge, Quinton May scrambled to his feet and stormed over to the referee, yelling at the poor bastard to get up. This was all May's fault, though. He brought this upon himself. LOSER. All of that allowed Osyrus the greatest chance of all. To recover and regain his bearings. So much so that by the time Quinton May turned around, deciding to give up on trying to revive the referee, Osyrus was aware enough to punch May in the dick, and topped that with a majestic tilt-a-whirl backbreaker out of nowhere! He didn't let the ACW Television Champ slide off his knee, though. Naahhhhh uh. As a matter of fact, Osyrus used the fact that Quinton was pivoted on his knee to good effect, hoisting May up and onto his shoulder. The fans gulped as the sight of Omar Christensen walking around the ring with Quincy Mama at his mercy frightened the ever living soul out of them. And then, with another referee deciding to sprint out to the ring, Osyrus possibly drilled the final nail into Quinton's coffin, with a jumping sitout piledriver. We've got a neeeeeewwwww champion. Let's confirm it; ONE. TWO. THREE. Hooray. Osyrus had won. But why were the crowd cheering? Oh, duh, yeah. Because Osyrus HAD NOT WON. Quinton May got his shoulder off the canvas literally at the last millisecond, driving the Windsor crowd into another fanatical state of jubilation. May was hanging on for all that was worth, and despite the caked blood on his face and the broken bones, the Rising Star would simply not... fade away. While the new referee toepoked his useless compatriot out of the ring, Osyrus rose to his feet and signalled to the crowd that the end was near, with the gesturing of his hands and all. Of course, it could be miscontrued as he wanted some apple sauce to go with his clam chowder, but to keep a sense of linearity here, let's go for the former, eh? Makes sense to me. Annnnyways, as Quinton too hobbled to his feet after wiping gobs of blood out of his eyes, he was promptly spun around by Osyrus, who cracked a mean right hook into his jaw. An immediate response from May followed, though, firing back with a hook of his own. And before we knew it, a slugfest had developed in the middle of the ring, Quinton more than holding his own. But, seriously, a man of his size didn't stand a chance against the bulky frame of 'Asar'. The so-called Baddest Man on the planet managed to wear Quinton down enough to ensure that the latter didn't retaliate with a hook of his own, but as Osyrus moved in to close the deal with a haymaker, Quincy Mama kicked into high gear, catching Osy's arm. Thereafter, he pulled Osyrus down to the canvas, locked in a crossface submission, and Osy tapped seconds later. Well, wait a second. The Canadian Gladiator didn't even get the Personification of Talent down to the mat. Osyrus held his ground, and stunned Quinton -- who was still trying to take down his opponent to cinch in the submission -- by swivelling on his feet and catching May in an abdominal stretch. Impressive. Very, very impressive. Osyrus had no intentions of actually making Quinton forced to submit, though, and quickly hoisted May up onto his shoulders. Possible pump-handle move was on the cards, until the Castaway squirmed out of Osy's grasp and landed directly behind the Asylum monster. Wasting no time in slapping on a rear waistlock, Quincy Mama decided to go for it; a good ol' German Suplex. Trouble was, though, Osyrus was too big and strong. The man easily rescued himself from that predicament by bending his knees forward and flicking Quinton May across his back and over his OWN head! More glorious techniques from Omar Christensen, but Quinton one-upped his rival, by actually managing to land on his feet, relatively unscathed and unhurt. With a smirk, Quinton went in search of the victory; kick to ribs, head placed between legs, double underhook of arms... ... one word, ladies. One simple word. HIDEAWAY! No way! Osyrus powered out of there with a back body drop, collapsing to his knees as he did so, relieved that he had the presence of mind to realise just what lay in store for him! Crowd? Pouted and cried, wondering if Osyrus was actually beatable at all. That very same thought crept into Quinton's conscience, who was growing increasingly desperate. Both men were up to their feet at the same time, answering the referee's count at FIVE, and instantly enough, Quincy Mama went for a jumping sidekick. Parried by Osyrus, who drove a spinning heel kick into May's gut as the latter completed his involuntary 360º spin. A raised knee to the sternum was followed by a bionic elbow, knocking Quinton back into the ropes. Suited Osyrus finally, for he was able to scoop the returning Quincy Mama up into what appeared to be a brainbuster. Once more, though, Quinton's legendary trickery saw him squirm out of that one, and he almost caught Osyrus surprise with a neckbreaker, of the snap falling kind. Osy's reflexes were once again at the top of his game, and he kicked Quinton in the back of his knee. Which was followed by a series of hard elbow shots to the back of the Canadian's Gladiator head, knocking him across the ring. Sensing a real chance, Osyrus shot himself into the ropes, hoping that a clothesline would be enough of a set-up for one of his power finishers. Quincy Mama, however, decided to turn the script on its head, and struck before Osyrus did. With a spinning back-to-front bicylce kick. Yes, it is as fancy as it sounds. Osyrus fell like timber to the canvas, momentarily stunned, while the crowd got all hot again. Quinton May kipping to his feet gave them hope, and the way he crouched, taunting for Osyrus to stand him and face him, was somewhat of a telltale sign of what was to come next. Osyrus, rattled by the bicycle kick, didn't know what was going on when he indeed turned around. Reprise, folks; kick to ribs, head placed between legs, double underhook of arms. Oh yeah.... ... HIDEAWAY! FOR REAL! QUINTON DID IT! HE DID IT! Every single fan in the Adie Knox Herman Arena stood to their feet, cheering their hoarse throats out and crossing their fingers. A winded Quinton May struggled to roll over to make the cover, but when he did, he made sure to hook both the legs. This was the moment of truth, kiddies. This was key; ONE. TWO. THREE. ... KICKOUT! NO, TOO LATE! IT WAS OVER!!! Osyrus kicked out just a second too late, and the referee called for the bell. Unbelievable as it was, Quinton May had survived the war and ended up victorious. The arena walls almost crumbled with the resonating sound of thousands of fans going absolutely ecstatic, with confirmation of May's victory sounding out over the speakers. Quinton looked extremely relieved, climbing to his feet and raising his arms in the air. He'd just slayed him. He'd slayed the beast. The beast, though, was awake. And furious. And full of insane rage. Barely ten seconds into celebrating possibly the biggest victory of his short career, Quinton May was knocked out of the ring by a vengeful Osyrus, courtesy of a blindsiding sidekick. The referee's reprimanding did him no good, and he too was made a victim of said sidekick. Poor bastard -- he was just the replacement referee, too. Jumping out of the ring, Osyrus halted Quinton in his tracks with a boot to the face, as the latter dragged himself up and flung himself at the Personifcation of Talent. Down and out for the count, May was now, more than ever, in deep shit. Especially since Osyrus had a chair... SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! And, yeah, six more vile chairshots to Quinton May followed, as the fans in the front row tossed their drinks and garbage at Osyrus, who used the chair as a deflecting shield. The chair had been bent out of shape, anyways; second chair that night that Osyrus had maimed. Along with May's head, and his left arm, which took six of the ten chairshots dished out. Welts and bruise wounds immediately swelled up on the aforementioned left arm, the pain almost too unbearable for Quinton to deal with. Nonetheless, Osyrus wasn't completely done. He went in search of another chair and smacked it across May's face again, before placing that chair over the Canadian Gladiator's left arm. Sandwiching that left arm in between the steel. This was not going to be pretty. Everybody knew that. So did Osyrus, who climbed onto the apron, and with the biggest scowl you'd ever seen, jumped off the apron and down onto the chair, in which Quinton's left arm was lodged. "ARGGGGGGGH!" Quincy Mama screamed, rolling around like mental patient following that impact. That, my friends, is a possible broken arm. Satisfied with the damage done, Osyrus picked him weathered body up and dragged out of ringside. He'd lost on this night, yes, but he wasn't the one rolling around with blood on his face and pieces of broken table stuck to his head, clutching a probable broken left arm. In fact, he'd done what he was told to do. As Osyrus reached the stage, he turned around to scoff at the paramedics that had ran out to help Quincy Mama. Funny thing was, though, none of them were actually doing anything. That was because Quinton May had called them off, and instead, got to his feet on his own, illicting more cheers than ever for his bravery and his internal fortitude. Quincy Mam was victorious on this night. Beaten, but victorious. Truly a fitting HERO, non? Winner > Quinton May
thereturn/03
ACW > fWo - You Fuckers Better Believe It. |
