Recorded LIVE! from
RIMAC Arena, San Diego,
California
Card subject to change without notice
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That was William Laguna. Who's he? Simple; THE man in ACW. He, friends, is the driving force behind All-Star Championship Wrestling, and he was about to steer the promotion into a brand new season of events. Having walked into the conference room, Laguna -- very smartly dressed and looking very smart with his ponytail -- put his hands on his hips, peering at the men and women that been waiting for the Italian for close to half and hour already. These men and women comprised of the all-new staffing faculty of the promotion. Referees, road agents, backstage correspondents, interviewers, commentators; you name it, Laguna had it. New ones. Well, almost. Jenna McMullen, having been hired as a backstage correspondent three weeks ago, was present at this meeting. Being big-breasted DOES have its benefits. But anyways, Laguna was all-business. "You guys are part of a new team I've assembled. A new team to lead ACW to the forefront of the sports entertainment industry. We've always been phenomenal in our own right. But as of late, we've somewhat fallen off the wagon a little bit. I'd love to say that all we needed was some minor tweaking to make everything right. But I'd be lying. An overhaul was needed. So, I went out and placed an order for a revamping. See, our wrestlers aren't the only people that matter. You guys -- the secondary on-screen talent and the behind-the-scenes workers -- are just as crucial to the development and enhancement of our product. You guys are very, VERY important. Every last one of you are very important to me. Each of you have a vital role to play. Bobby Aldridge and Diana Morgenson, for example. You two are the liasons to the viewers watching at home. Your shared chemistry and calling of the action will decided whether our audience at home will be able to get engaged and intrigued by our product. The referees as well are important. Rex Blankford, Sly McMore, Pablo Rogers, Andrew Petersen; you folks are fully responsible for dictating how entertaining a match is. The referees that we used to have? They were moronic and weaklings. I need people who can impose their authority, and I have the utmost and most complete faith that you guys are the right people for that very job!" Pausing, William Laguna ran his fingers through his goatee. The commentators and the referees, all of whom had just been 'singled out' by Laguna, started murmuring amongst themselves. Naturally, they were excited at the prospect of being the people responsible for helping the ACW product flourish and maximise its full potential, according to the way Laguna put it. Laguna's words instilled belief and confidence in them. Having decided on what to say next, Laguna smiled widely. "And like I said, even the behind-the-scenes people are important to me and ACW; road agents Bradley Hanson and Michael Brunzwick, for example. The multi-purpose janitor, Willham Maurgon, who I only hired because he looks like a cock and I just figured it'd be fun bossing him around. But yeah, every single one of you now have an important task to work on. And that task, is one that will be quite difficult. That task, in a few words, is this -- -- Help me make ACW absolutely fucking phenomenal." A mighty roar of approval and a round of applause then ensued from the new league of staffers. Laguna's inspiring speech brought many a tear to the eyes of most of the staff, and they all stomped out of the conference room, ready to rock & roll. Laguna himself was looking pleased. But, also, stressed. The night was still young. And, oh yeah, Brian Carter and his goons awaited. Sounds like fun, innit?
Things, are gonna change tonight.
It’s a celebration… bitches!
Pro Wrestling's Phenomenon 'Ring Superstar' started to blast over the PA system as Vince slowly made it to the stage posing for the fans on the stage. The fans let Vince have it with huge boos.
You ain't man enough to give his fuckin' title a shot Feel the Starbuster ruckus, Ego Checkin' ya ass Money hungry muthafuckas gettin' wrecked in a flash The bank accounts is thick and his pockets is fat Peep the smirk on his face when he watchin' you tap A 3-Count or submission, which steez you wanna go? Cuz this muthafucka right here's the reason there's a show.
The arena started to rain gold and purple confetti all over as Vince stood on the stage with a big smile on his face. He was wearing a black Armani suit with some Gucci sunglasses and his hand bandaged up as a result of his match with Alias at King of Ages. Vince adjusted his ACW World Title on his left shoulder as he walked down the aisle. He walked up to a guy with a sign that read. THE REASON THERE IS A SHOW Jacobs stood next to the guy holding the title up. The guy tried to grab for the title but Jacobs swatted his hand away and flipped him off. SVJ smiled as he walked to the steps as his music continued to play with the confetti still falling. Vince walked up the steps into the ring and raised the title high in the air balloons started to fall behind him. He asked for a microphone as the announcer obliged. “Hello San Diego your new ACW World Champ is here to grace you with my presence.” Vince pause as the fans continued to jeer him. “Don’t be mad at me because I beat YOUR champion at King of Ages. [Pause for the boos] Chris was a good champion but he wasn’t a great champion that distinction is saved for yours truly. [Vince adjusted his title] I totally silenced all my critics, you fans and the Internet smarks. You all didn’t think I could do it but the only thing I have to say to you all is…. FUCK YOU ALL BECAUSE I AM ACW WORLD CHAMP “I have said from day one that I was going to be the one that took the title from Alias but you peons didn’t believe me. You all thought that Alias had my number and that he would be champion forever. If the match was a one on one match with no interferences then I don’t have any problem beating anyone on any given day as you saw at KoA.” “See I am not like Alias, I am going to be defending this title on every occasion I get. That’s right I am not going to hide behind this title. I am the best this business has to offer and this belt only solidifies it. I am going to give ANYBODY a shot at this title. I don’t care if you are a reporter in the back or a janitor. If you want a shot at the title you will get it. [Vince holds his finger up in the air] If I think you deserve it also.” “Alias I know you are in hearing distance of what I am saying, so listen up. You won’t be getting another shot at this title anytime soon my friend.” WHY “Because you don’t deserve it. Don’t worry because I am not done with you yet. I still have more pain to inflict on you and it will be coming very soon you can bet on that.” Jacobs leaned over the top rope looking at the entranceway. “Now tonight I am going to give one lucky person in the back a shot at this title. Whoever walks out onto this stage and says that they want a shot at the World Title will get their chance to become a star. Oh this applies to any ACW worker except for Alias. You get nothing bitch.” “This Is Now Lyrics” by Hatebreed starts to blast over the PA system. The fans in the arena start to look at the entranceway not recognizing the song that is playing right now. Another
memory and I'm asking myself I
gotta believe What
I've seen and what I've been through has made me who I am But
this is now If I
control myself I control my tomorrow How
can I change tomorrow if I can’t change today? Cause this is now. Cause
this is now "I hear you running your mouth, till the last thing you said. I couldn't of gave a damn about anything you said until you said and if I may quote you "Whoever walks out onto this stage and says that they want a shot at the World Title will get their chance to become a star. Oh this applies to any ACW workers. Is that true,” Says the unknown man, as he looks SVJ in the eyes with his shades on. Vince looked at the kid. "Yeah that is true greenhorn. I said ANYONE in the back. And I do mean ANYONE." "Besides Alias of course well anyways you are celebrating like you did something special. You didn’t do anything besides beat Alias? I mean look at ACW the one you became champion of and the one that stands now thanks to all the firings by William Laguna you have proved nothing to most of us in the back. You got some new blood in ACW that isn't impressed much by the people you've beaten, oh and by the way my name is Robert Dundren." Robert says as he starts to remove his suit jacket Vince cracked a sly grin on his face as he placed the mic ever so slowly to his lips before speaking to the rookie. “So Laguna went out and got some new blood into ACW. Well listen up kid, how dare you come out here and disrupt my celebration. What is your name again? Robert Dungren, or whatever. This is SVJ’s house. You come into ACW and want to step with the big dogs. Well this isn’t some backyard wrestling promotion down in Mexico that you may be used to. This is All-Star Championship Wrestling. And you are looking at the biggest and brightest star in this fucking company.” Vince adjusted the World Title on his shoulder. “I understand you may be a little star struck which may be the reason you are saying the things that you are right now. It’s okay. If this place doesn’t work out for you I know a few independent companies that could use a popcorn vendor.” Robert looked at Vince with a sly grin on his face as well as he contemplated what was said and then he did the unthinkable he held his hand out to the champion. "I am so sorry for disrupting you it won't happen again your honor" Jacobs looked down at the gesture for a handshake but all Vince did was wave off the handshake. Vince was already pissed that this kid interrupted his festivities but he wasn’t going to shake this punk’s hand. Vince just got closer to the kid as Robert felt Vince hot breath on him. “You are the only one that actually came out here and had the balls to challenge SVJ, so later tonight in the main event I get to make you an instant star by giving you a shot at this title [Vince patted the twenty pounds of gold] on my shoulder. Vince turned his back to the kid but Robert Dundren was not going to be intimidated by the champ and he nailed him in the back with a forearm shot that dropped the champ to the mat. Vince looked down on the mat as his sunglasses where off his face lying beside him and his title on the mat also. Jacobs face was enraged as he stood to his feet but as he got to his feet the security came down to separate the two men. “As I was saying before you big mouth opened up again I am Robert Dundren you may call me, RJD, Dundren what ever you want and you won't be interrupted by me, or any one else for that matter. You see its like this you think I should respect and worship you as I believe one of you nick names is your god well I got news for you son of a bitch. I don't answer to my mom so why the heck would I answer to you? Wait don't get up yet, because its this simple I am going to do you a favor I am going to make it so no one ever interrupts you again when you can't even manage to walk you big carcass down to this ring and open that big yap of yours. The way I see it you said anyone and any one includes me so why would I just apologize for doing what you asked for some one to do in the first place. Well anyways we can do this now or we can do it later. Vince was hot as the new comer to the ACW, Dundren, just disrespected him. Jacobs yelled over the security guards. “Your ass is mine tonight kid. I hope ACW has insurance.” Robert Dundren smiled as he had a big opportunity tonight. In his first night in the ACW, he disrespected the World Champion and got a title shot in the same night. This was going to be the biggest night in this kid’s early career.
The Era of the Beautiful People
In recent weeks and in the weeks upcoming, change has been and will be rampant in ACW. So in the wake of all the new faces within the walls of our gated community, Kelly Flawless would like to lend his services to a campaign that shall be called, simply enough, the ACW Beautiful People’s Club. With change afoot, and new faces popping up every week, wouldn’t it be a nice thing for us to know which of these faces are truly beautiful? I welcome you to the next era of ACW. The Era of the Beautiful People.
The Blind Slayer Speaks
Which was why the official Backstage Correspondent of ACW gladly snapped up the opportunity to interview the two people who changed the face of the current pecking order of the organisation. Standing backstage, in front of the wire mesh thingy that served as a cool backdrop, Jenna McMullen raised the microphone to her luscious lips and winked at the cameras. Showtime! "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm Jenna McMullen." the dense bitch began, batting her eyelids ever so often. "Right now, I'm standing here with two people who are, quite possibly, the most wanted people in ACW history. Their actions at the King Of Ages PPV a few days ago shocked the world and angered the hometown Canadian crowd. Good thing we're back in America, eh? EH? Oh, fiddlesticks, I can't say 'EH' like a Canadian. But, anyways, I present to you FEJONA MIN and the return of a young man who was once a understudy of Quinton May; he used to go under the moniker of 006.392, but now, he wishes us to call him by his real name -- JOSEPH McMILLAN." The unlucky cameraman (unlucky because he had to co-ordinate with Jenna on this) panned his thingamajig backwards, revealing Fejona Min and the very blind Joseph McMillan standing to the right of McMullen. The esteemed Backstage Correspondent somewhat quivered as she glanced at Joseph, his pupil-less eyes gleaming brightly under the flourescent lights. But there was more reason to go weak in the knees as far as Jenna McMullen was concerned. The sight of a smug-looking Fejona Min standing there, dressed in a tight dark blue t-shirt that exposed her midriff and equally tight black pants with expensive-looking black pumps, was enough to make any guy drool and every girl feel a wee bit threatened. Nothing scarier than a chick who KNOWS she's hot and sure as hell knows how to flaunt it. "S-So, Fejona Min. I suppose Joseph here was the Trojan horse you've been keeping in the dark, huh?" Jenna McMullen stammered out a question, following the chorus of jeering that enemated from the arena-proper. The Cambodian Femme Fatale flicked strands of her ethereal hair out of her eyes and turned to face Jenna. "More or less, Jenna, although you've probably mixed up your research. You're probably thinking that 'Seph here is the one I've been working for all this time. Unfortunately, you're mistaken. See, like I said, I was hired by a higher power to weaken Quinton May up. Mess with his mind. Keep him distracted long enough so that Joseph here could be properly trained for his revenge mission. I mean, look at Joseph. Look at his eyes; you can't see anything. That's because of Quinton May. Fighting by Quincy's side did that to him. Joseph sought help, once he was admitted out of intensive care. And I was roped in to assist. My scope comprised of two primary missions -- do whatever possible to screw around with Quinton's mind, and help train Joseph to become the avenging fighter he himself wishes to be. Now that he's entered the foray, my job is done. I no longer have a reason to play games with Quinton May; I received my handsome payoff last night, and if you've done your homework, Jenna, you'll know that I am already very, very wealthy. The floor is now Joseph's, and he now has the chance to drive the final nail into Quinton's head." McMullen nodded her head, enlightened by Fejona's words. The Cambodian Femme Fatale crossed her arms and stuck her arse out a bit more, now looking directly at Joseph McMillan. Obviously wanting him to say a few words. Jenna, though, brought the microphone back to her lips. She too had something to say, sadly enough. "So, okay. Everything you've been saying about what lay in store for Quinton, since the middle of July, actually adds up to Joseph McMillan's return? It all seems a little hoakey to me. I mean, I'm confused; the last time I checked, Quinton was STILL your legal guardian. And also, I don't mean to sound rude here, but you're, like, blind. How's that going to work? How the hell are you going to exact vengeance on Quinton if you can't see? More important question is, WHY?" Interesting points by Jenna McMullen. Yes, the world MUST be ending. Anywho, a flustered-lookin' Jenna found her microphone being yanked out of her possession by Joseph -- dressed simply in a white t-shirt and white jeans with a white trenchcoat on top of everything. Fejona chuckled at McMillan's sneaky tomfoolery & leaned in to whisper something into 'Seph's ears. Once that was done, Fejona backed away a couple of steps, allowing Joseph to raise the microphone to his lips, with Jenna watching on expectantly and curiously. "When the doors of perception are cleansed, everything appears as it truly is; infinite. My blindness, unlike what you mere simpletons believe, is not a weakness. It is, in fact, my single most greatest strength. I don't particularly like to go into detail about my condition, but I'll say this; a person's eyesight does not dictate how one lives his or her life. There are many blind people out there who do perfectly fine without the gift of eyesight." Joseph explained very calmly. McMullen, as expected, didn't comprehend. Mainly because Joseph sounded like a robot. Almost completely monotonous. Yet, he couldn't contain himself any longer. He needed to let it all out. "But, I'm not like every other blind person out there. I'm not a copy of a copy of a copy. I don't think eyesight is a gift. In fact, I think it's a curse. With eyes, humans are capable of doing enormous amounts of harm. Men undressing women with their eyes, for example. Or how about when we see someone in dire need of help... and turn a blind eye to that? That's unspeakable inhumanity. That's... how Quinton works. Yes. I was once a soldier by his side. But what did it ever do for me? I was yanked right out of my live. My parents? No longer by my side; they're in jail. I can't directly blame Quinton for that, but he was indirectly responsible for turning my whole life around. At first, I thought it was for the better. I thought maybe my life finally had some sort of meaning. But when you're laying in a bed and all you can see is black, you're bound to have an epiphany. And being of an impressionable age, I'm subject to having several epiphanies every week. Know what the clincher is, though? The blindness. That helped me, more than ever, to SEE everything so clearly. However oxymoronic that sounds." Fejona's sneer grew wider. So did Jenna's puzzlement. This was getting creepy. "Freaked out yet?" Joseph suddenly raised his voice, as he turned to face McMullen. "This is my world now, Jenna. I'm not going to be bounded by the so-called laws of the jungle. I am my own man. I'm going to take this world by storm. I've been placed in this limbo by Quinton, and I will make the most of it. I will destroy him. I will make him pay for making my life crumble. Oh, yes. I will. Not for making me blind. The blindness is not an issue. I know that your feeble mind cannot grasp the concept of what is happening here. I am going to make him pay for denying me the chance to live a normal life. Because that's what he took away from me. That's what he stole from me. Quinton stole MY LIFE for his purpose. For his assinine and deluded mission. I'll do the same to him. I'll take his life away from him. One prized possession after the other. I will not stop until he is a mere shell of himself. Do to him what he did to him, without a second's thought. That is MY promise. That is my... blood oath." Throwing the microphone into Fejona's hands, Joseph McMillan stomped off, his eerie pupil-less eyes taking one last glare into the camera. Jenna McMullen was visibly shaken by the strong and foreboding words of McMillan, who had -- for all intents and purposes -- laid out a death sentence for the man that was still his legal guardian. Fejona Min, throughout Joseph's spiel, simply smiled to herself. Now, though, she was all solemn and stepped up to Jenna McMullen, locking eyes with her. Hot lesbian action coming up next? Not likely, you sick pervert. The Cambodian Femme Fatale just had something to say in closing. "He's going to do it, too. Believe me." she announced, before dropping the mic to the ground. And walking away, laughing like some demonic princess. Jenna McMullen gulped, now thoroughly frightened. Sometimes, you can't really tell what is real and what is fake in this business. But when the Blind Slayer tells you he's going to do something malevolent... ... you damn well heed his warning. Quinton? I suggest you run for the hills.
The Meeting
Anew
But then again, most people haven’t started a career, succeeded at it, been married, diagnosed with a mental disorder, and divorced within two years, have they? No. But Seymour Almasy has. As he walked through the maze of passageways backstage at Courage, he realized that was exactly why he was here. The past two years had been filled with joy and heartbreak, the highest of highs, and the lowest of lows. He needed to find a place where he could go compete that wouldn’t be surrounded by bad memories. He needed somewhere to start over. He needed a federation that was starting over. In that sense, All-Star Championship Wrestling and Seymour Almasy were like two peas in a pod. Both entities trying to get back to the highs that they had once enjoyed. Almasy didn’t even know who the hell his opponent was tonight. He didn’t care. But he knew he was ready. This was the big time. There was no room for error. Black and red dye was in his hair. The long sword he called the Divine Blade Imperial was strapped to his side. His faux-armor ring attire gleamed in the hallway lights. Seymour was ready to do the one thing left that he could do after two years of heaven and hell. Wrestle.
LOSER
LEAVES ACW
It had all come to this. Winner > Kelly Flawless
Survival of the Vicious
Word spread quickly of the behemoth's demise. Rumors began to float as to what would become of the former wrestlers attained by the Asylum in their prime. It was no secret that the vile human being known as Joe Campbell had taken full advantage of those men and women who didn't think to read through their contracts entirely. Now that the papers had expired, he no longer controlled anyone but himself. Fighters who had been sent on a permanent vacation for one reason or another could once again earn more than the scraps Campbell was throwing at them. It was only a matter of time before the call would come. Their wait was long, and tedious. The proverbial hibernation that had suffocated these 2 blood hungry savages was over. It was the dawn of a new era, and Fall of Adam was standing at the gates. ~~~ Their strides were deliberate and laced with purpose. Black duffel bags swung respectively by the side of each monster as they stared forward with eyes focused and mind calculating. The camera's sharpe lense captured the first glimpse for ACW fans of the former aWc Tag Team Champions, and current avengers of organized anything. A glare bounced off the smooth skull of Gacy, as he wore a very prominent scoul upon his face. To his left, the expressionless mask of Oswald struck confusion and fear into the faceless bystanders backstage. Watching Fall of Adam upon a television screen is one thing, but to witness their arrival in person was an experience not easily described. Surrounding both men was an unexplainable aura. It was almost as if wraiths had entered the room, temporarily making even the most scepticle individual question the supernatural. Their eyes were completely devoid of compassion or remorse, and their swagger strong with confidence. A trio of women with clipboards and various electronic devices stood still as the men entered, studying their every move. One woman in particular's mouth sat agape, catching the attention of Oswald. Slowly he swiveled his neck, retinas piercing through the staff member's entire being. His walk remained unphased, as he slowly cocked his neck to a 15 degree angle. Jet black hair gently brushed against his broad shoulder from the slight breeze in the room, and without realizing it, the woman dropped the board in her hand. This broke her concentration, and she immediately went down to retrieve the fallen item. Oswald simply turned his attention back to the concrete nothingness in front of him, as Gacy grinned at the situation. "I think you made her wet." Oswald quickly jerked his head in the direction of his sarcastic partner. Gacy flashed a hideous smirk and gently shrugged. "Or not." Their journey continued down the corridor, with all eyes still upon them. Management hadn't let it leak to anyone that they had been attained. Were they now contracted ACW wrestlers? It was a secret that would hopefully be soon revealed ... for all to see.
Time to Digest Disaster
Thinking time about Brian Carter...about Pandora. But hold on I hear you say, William Laguna and Brian Carter were friends? Surely Laguna has nothing to be scared about? Then you'd be wrong. William Laguna said they were friends. Who knew any better? He leaned back in his deluxe leather chair and tapped a biro pen against his chin. Business was a dog-eat-dog world, he was no stranger to the dodgy deal to out-do his latest rival, or give the odd backhander to make sure a job was done properly, but there was something about Carter's "business" that chilled him to the very pit of his stomach. With his bag packed to his left, he was ready for anything. But was he ready for what Brian Carter had planned?
Rejection for A Debut
Both men stopped dead in there tracks, and looked a bit puzzled at the ACW employee. “Is this guy serious, or just dumb?” “Me thinking he is pretty dumb.” They both shook there heads in disagreement towards the ACW employee. They started to try and walk past the employee, but only to get rejected as he blocked the way in. They took a couple steps back, before one of them charged, trying to get threw, but failed miserably as the employee took him down. The other one chuckled at the sight of it, as the one that went down got back to his feet and dusted off his pants. “Okay this isn’t funny anymore, please leave this area now.” “Listen queer bot, see this, yea, this is Donavan and Trevor Norman, better known as the Normans Brothers.” Donavan explained towards the employee. “Don’t forget undefeated LoC tag team champions.” Trevor butted into Donavan speech. “Yeah, so we The Normans would take it kindly, if you would move your unintelligent fat ass out of our way.” Donavan and Trevor both started to walk towards the door, but the employee didn’t budge one bit. “Let me call and check.” said the ACW employee, as he reached for his radio. “Bro lets go back to that liquor store on the corner.” Trevor spoke up as Donavan shook his head in agreement. “Wait; just hold on a second, one more thing.” Donavan stopped and looked back at the employee. Donavan walked calmly up to the employee, and it looked as if he was going to shake hands with the man… But, instead jacked the radio from the hands of the employee and threw it to Trevor. The employee went for Trevor, but Trevor threw it back to Donavan. They played pig in the middle with employee for about five minutes, until Donavan chucked the radio over the fence. “It got boring anyways, lets go to that liquor store now, I‘m a bit thirsty.” Trevor said as both The Normans turned around, and headed away from the arena. The ACW employee just shook his head, as he walked back to the door. So There it was, The Normans had arrived in ACW, well somewhat in the ACW.
Kelly Flawless Presents the ACW Beautiful People's Club, Sponsored by Kelly Flawless
Rebuild Them From The Heart
That's what SilverHAWK was greeted to when he entered the arena this evening. "Another one?" His reply. What did you expect? SilverHAWK had seen it all...from the original touring days and the roster of forty men, to the new Ethan Winters era which was promised to take ACW and all it's rich background to the very top, but came a long way short. Then there were the group which he led to ACW ownership, before Brian Carter came in once again to put his money deep into ACW...before it lost it's TV deal. He rested his bag on the floor as he looked at the message board, the usual guff...TV time, segments, promo's, t-shirt ideas, it was the same week in week out, 'maybe this place does need a change he thought' and then he looked at the blackboard. UNITED STATES TITLE MATCH - Gods Forgotten Son Vs. SilverHAWK He stared at the writing, and drew a blank. Could he do this anymore? Could he compete? Challenge a champion? Finish a match? None of them went through his mind, instead, the 2-time ACW Champion and leg-end of the company, picked up his bag to find his dressing room, for he had a match tonight. He had a chance to wrestle. And that's all he ever wanted to do.
Welcome to the Beautiful People's Club, and just like the morbidly obese, you're not invited
Azrael
Asesino Vs. Jamar Gordo “Crossbearer” by Cave In overtook the speakers without asking permission, a mix of boos and cheers sounding off about the arena. It didn’t matter which the fans did, but they all had to show respect for the reigning Scorpion Fighting Champion, Azreal Asesino. ”Tear
it from its cross, Azreal continued his walk down the aisle, his music continuing to pound as he had his coveted championship upon his shoulder. The fans reached for him, but the Angel paid no attention, simply looking to crush his opposition for the night and leave it at that. He didn’t come to be the Scorpion Fighting champ for a reason and even though it was non-title, he had every intention of showing his opponent tonight why he deserved the gold he brandished proudly for the world to see. He entered the ring, undeniably confident as he held his title high for everyone to admire, the title glistening under the ring lights. Handing the referee his title, Azreal waited in his corner patiently. All he needed was one good lock in of the Judgement, and the champ could call it a night. Erratic disc scratching hit the sound system, shortly followed by the voice of a generic, 1950’s announcer. ”An
open microphone can be dangerous The lights dimmed, a shower of white, blue, and red laser lights showering the entryway and aisle. The boos and jeers had already started even before his song properly started, but it was this hate that Azreal’s opponent had already become accustomed to. ”Passion He had forsaken the theatrics and elaborate posing. It was obvious Jamar Gordo was NOT in the mood after what Kelly Flaweless had put him through. Outstretched hands were avoided as Gordo slipped on his other fight glove, clenching his fist for proper grip as his eyes remained locked on the ring. NOBODY embarrassed Jamar Gordo, and since he couldn’t make Flawless pay for it tonight, Azreal would have to do. He climbed upon the apron, placing a leg between the middle rope when suddenly….it happened. “GORDO’S UGLY~! –clap clap clapclapclapclap- GORDO’S UGLY~! -clap clap clapclapclapclap- GORDO’S UGLY~! -clap clap clapclapclapclap- GORDO’S UGLY~! -clap clap clapclapclapclap-“ Flawless had slapped Gordo in the face, and now the fans. It WAS NOT a good time to be Jamar….especially when it was followed by a running forearm from the fired up Azreal, knocking Gordo off from the apron to the floor abruptly as the fans cheered Asesino…primarily because he was the lesser of two evils. He gripped his hands on the top rope, waiting for Gordo to reach his feet before springing up on the top rope and diving off with a graceful swanton. His hurtling body CRASHED into Jamar as the rich martial artist was left laying, Azreal on his feet in no time and looking about, the crowd voicing their approval of the daring move. DING DING~! The bell signaling the match’s started had come about as stomps rained down like hail upon Gordo. He was finally taken by his head and tossed back into the ring, which Azreal followed shortly as Jamar tried to pick himself off the mat via the ropes. Azreal cut that thought off with a scathing kick to his ribs, backing him into the ropes and whipping him with pure force. CLACK~! The sound of Jamar’s jaw as it met with the elevated feet of Asesino’s dropkick, whiplashing him to the mat violently as the Angel went for an early cover. The kick out was instantaneous, the referee not even getting a chance to get into position. Since Gordo chose not to just stay down, it was now time to break down the Master of All Styles, something Azreal had no problem at the least with doing. He pulled Jamar up, yet to gain some ground in the match and hooked a tight waistlock for an obvious belly to belly set. The dormant fury of Gordo came unleashed however as strikes to the side of the head and knees to the gut followed, the lock eventually breaking. Seizing the moment was a concept Jamar was familiar with and he did so with a scathing STO which PLANTED Azreal to the mat, Gordo shooting over to the right arm and attempting a keylock with an uncooperative Asesino. With his keylock attempt being stifled, Jamar simply turned to straddling and delivered stiff punches to the face of the Angel. The referee warned the God of Gucci as best he could about his closed fists, but Gordo could care less. Finally, the referee had to step in and pull Gordo off the Scorpion Fighting champ, who realized he was in for a bigger fight then expected as Gordo was being admonished. The referee stepped out of the way and it didn’t take long for the battle to rage once more. Azreal rushed Jamar and vice-versa, the two meeting halfway and trading blows like two prizefighters in the final round. Gordo lost ground finally in the punch battle as he stumbled back. He threw a high kick to recover, but Azreal caught the leg along with cinching Jamar by the head. Shortly, the millionaire was slung over with a Capture suplex with the impact bouncing him off the mat. The Angel was on the attack now as the dissection continued, laying stomps to Jamar as the crowd approved of the beating. Azreal set Jamar for a standard suplex, lifting yet getting his leg twisted with his victim’s. Short elbows bombarded the face of Azreal before his hold was relinquished, Jamar whipping him into the ropes and tossing him into the air….. ….To be greeted by two feet coming full force into his chest, sending Azreal to his back with his chest writhing. Azreal managed to make it to his feet on his own, but the array of sidekicks and jabs backed him right into the corner where Jamar wanted him. Following a stifling boot choke, Jamar cleared his arms from his chest and let loose with a furious chop to his chest. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~! ONE MORE FOR GOOD MEASURE! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~! Jamar waited patiently for that slight stumble he needed, kicking Azreal in the stomach before getting a front facelock. He then ran up the corner, gaining enough momentum for a Tornado DDT that spiked Azreal’s head into the mat as he went for the cover. 1… 2… No! Jamar slapped the mat in frustration at the referee’s count, but grew ever angrier with the fans continued chants of… “GORDO’S UGLY~! –clap clap clapclapclapclap- GORDO’S UGLY~! -clap clap clapclapclapclap- GORDO’S UGLY~! -clap clap clapclapclapclap- GORDO’S UGLY~! -clap clap clapclapclapclap-“ He could have went into the crowd and killed each and every one of them as the chants continued, Gordo walking away from his business at hand to simply stare at the audacious fanbase. “Screw you idiots! I’m fine dammit, I’M FINE!” What wasn’t fine was the waistlock he was caught with, leading to a high angled German suplex. Azreal held the bridge with the shoulders down. 1… 2..NO! Jamar held his back as he pushed back up to his feet, Azreal moving slowly but surely as he delivered solid right hands to the face of Gordo, whipping him to a corner. Jamar’s back SLAMMED into the turnbuckle with his body limply resting in the corner as Azreal raced in with a hard clothesline that sent Gordo sprawling down on the mat. The fans began to rally behind their hero for the night as he took to the top rope, waiting for the right moment as Jamar started to rise again. On one knee. Now two. And finally, his feet. All it took was Jamar turning around and Azreal leaped off the top rope gracefully, his legs enwrapping around the neck of Gordo as he snapped off a picture perfect hurracanranna. The cover came right after the wonderfully executed move. 1… 2..NO!! Gordo’s kickout was strong, even for the number it came at, his body in pain, but his face growing noticeably more angered as the match raged on and the fan chants continued. “GORDO’S UGLY~! –clap clap clapclapclapclap- GORDO’S UGLY~! -clap clap clapclapclapclap- GORDO’S UGLY~! -clap clap clapclapclapclap- GORDO’S UGLY~! -clap clap clapclapclapclap-“ Azreal stood Jamar up and delivered searing chops to the uncovered chest of Jamar, the burn racing through his body. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~! Azreal went for another, but Jamar used his Capoeria prowess to fall back while landing on his hand, thrusting both feet up into the jaw of his victim. The strike caught him totally of guard, leading to Jamar flipping forward and catching up Azreal’s arm and neck in the vicious triangle choke submission. The air began to seep from Azreal’s body, Jamar putting on more pressure with his powerful legs. The referee watched for the Angel’s hand hovering just over the mat, only looking to call or not call a submission. Jamar clenched his eyes tightly, praying for a submission from the Scorpion Fighting champion as he felt the fight begin to disappear from his opponent. After a few more moments of flailing and fighting, Azreal grew limp and somber. -Clap-….-clap-……-clap- “TAP OUT YOU SON OF A BITCH, YOU HEAR ME?!” The referee raised his arm high, letting it fall and watching it slap the mat. -clap-clap-clap-clap-clap-clap-clap-clap-clap-clap-clap- It was raised twice. Still no response from Azreal as a smile grew over Jamar’s face. -CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP- The hand was raised yet again, Jamar smelling victory as the hand was dropped… But it refused to slap the mat. Azreal dug deep inside, pulling something from within him as he powered Jamar up with the hold still locked, dropping Gordo VIOLENTLY on his back, but still no release. Summoning up all his might, he lifted yet again and this time, the slam did it. The hold came undone, both men on the ground as Gordo continued to hold his sore back and Azreal took in every bit of air available. Both men slowly fought to their feet, each on wobbly legs as one refursed to let the other out of their sight. Jamar was first to make a move when they both got fully to their feet, going for a Yakuza kick only to have it ducked by the Angel. Azreal would then go for a clothesline, which Gordo ducked to try for a DDT. However, Azreal got a hold of Gordo’s arm, twisting it so he was in control and using it as leverage for a short clothesline. The reversals kept coming as Jamar ducked that and got a waistlock, going for a release German. Azreal was able to use the force to flip back and land on his feet, rushing for Gordo with his back turned to him. A facecrusher attempt was tried, but Gordo ducked in the nick of time and bent at the knees. Just as Azreal turned around he was met with the CRUSHING BLINGING WIZARD~! Jamar’s Shining Enzugiri variant sent Azreal to the mat, Jamar racing for the cover with a hooked leg as the referee made the count. 1… 2… 3!!! He had done it, Jamar laid back, smiling to himself. He had just beaten the Scorpion Fighting champion, fair and square with his big move. What should have been a time of celebration was sadly wrecked by the fans post match chants of. “GORDO’S UGLY~! –clap clap clapclapclapclap- GORDO’S UGLY~! -clap clap clapclapclapclap- GORDO’S UGLY~! -clap clap clapclapclapclap- GORDO’S UGLY~! -clap clap clapclapclapclap-“ “SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!!!!” Gordo punched at the air, ENRAGED at the insolence of the fans who rallied behind the mistruths of Kelly Flawless. These chants were proceeding to drive him to the edge of insanity, Gordo looking to Azreal who was trying to get up and regain his bearings from the Blinging Wizard received. It wasn’t just the fans mocking him anymore…it seemed like the referee, the timekeeper….even his opponent himself was mocking him. He could not have this anymore, Gordo snapping as he locked on out of nowhere the Starstruck, the deadly cross-armbar/leglock variant he had collected so many submissions with. He WRENCHED back on Azreal, the bell ringing rapidly after the match as Jamar yelled in a bestial manner. The cool-headed Gordo was gone in favor of a disrespected, angered version. “I’M
NOT UGLY!!! I’M NOT!!!” Flawless would pay for the disrespect shown to the Master of All Styles…even if it meant breaking him into submission. Or knocking him the fuck out. Either way, Flawless would suffer. Winner > Jamar Gordo
All Hail the Forgotten King
The overpowering scent of a brunette prostitute’s pheromones should have filled the air; to entice another potential buyer, in addition to the horse flies crawling about on his napkin that the overweight bartender gave to him…so his eighth shot glass of Yagermeister would not leave a shallow water ring on that fat bastard’s unclean work environment. However that was not the case; throwing his newly won championship a few feet in front of him, in the shadows he could hear the little legs of rodents and other creatures of the night, scurrying for their worthless lives. Those simple minded animals that wandered the earth; their intuitive behavior could sense something disturbing deep within this machine like stranger to ACW…so how could human beings easily make the mistake to cross God’s Forgotten Son? Or so he thought, as the youngster awoke and turned his lifeless gaze on the golden scepter held in his powerful right hand. The longer GFS analyzed the staff for royalty; Wallace could see the disgust building in the pit of his apprentice’s stomach that he stepped back in fear that the King of Ages 2004 would throw up on his shoes.
A Paradigm Shift Part I
The gilt-edged steed came to a screeching halt as he pulled off his red and black helmet, brushed his long fringe aside and paused to contemplate a brave new world… …Wrestling… As a martial artist, it was a word he despised. It implied an antithesis of everything he believed was true about combat and the very fact that it existed as an art form and that he, a fighting prince, would be enlisted to make the phenomenon’s engine chug, made him ill at best. He pondered how long he would be able to remain among these degenerates, how long he would have to tolerate their antics and their glorification of an offshoot art. He was an outsider after all and his was a realm of blood-soaked vengeance while there’s was one of accomplishment and anticipation for that climatic next step. He knew that his peers here would ask the same questions about him eventually and the last thing he wanted to do was ignite the great fighter/wrestler rivalry that engulfed both worlds only years ago. He sighed softly and smiled. Sometimes we have to sacrifice to get what we want from life and only the mind reader knows the complexities of his true intentions and long term goals in a world which he should not be part. They all come to one glorious culmination, however, and that intention is no secret… …for Xealot wants to be the best combatant who ever lived… He had no match but he began to walk toward the entrance of the arena anyway. And so the reshuffling of wrestling’s history began to accommodate the era of Neo Xealot with every step. He would change this game. Bend it to his will. He would turn it upside down.
Kasper
Sky Vs. Seymour Almasy “Fight With Seymour” by The Black Mages. About half of the crowd began to cheer. One of the rumors, at the very least, was true. “The Final Fantasy” Seymour Almasy had arrived in ACW. He slapped hands with some of the crowd on the way down the aisle. Almasy’s body was well-formed, but his eyes had the look of a man whose thoughts were in half a dozen different places at the same time. Rolling into the ring, he rose to his feet, arms in the air to acknowledge the crowd, and settled back to figure out just who his opponent would be. “Bring Me To Life” by Evanescence, and well, here came rumor #2. Kasper Sky stood at the top of the ACW ramp, mild surprise on his face. It was an expression that the Final Fantasy mirrored. Both men knew of each other through tournaments, a pursuit both men enjoyed. Now, on Courage, they would meet. For fans of the indies, it was a dream match of sorts. Sky jogged down the ramp, sliding into the ring, eyeing Seymour cautiously. Kasper had the decided size advantage, but Almasy had speed that would balance things out. Bell-time. *DING!* Kasper went for a collar and elbow tie-up, but Seymour rolled underneath his grasp, and popped up behind him. The ensuing dropkick sent Kasper reeling into the ropes. Seymour charged, and Sky back body dropped him over the top rope. Except Seymour held on and landed on the apron. Sky spun to deliver a blow, but the Final Fantasy countered with a hard shoulder to the gut, doubling his opponent over. Seymour launched back in with a sunset flip, pinning Kasper’s shoulders to the canvas. 1! 2! Sky easily rolled backwards out of the move, regained his balance, and charged Seymour, who promptly low-bridged him, leaving Kasper Sky to sail over the top rope down to the floor. Kasper shrugged. He knew Almasy well, from various tapes. Despite his speed and propensity for top rope moves, Seymour didn’t dive to the floor too much. As he turned back to the ring, however, he quickly figured out that he had underestimated Almasy. Tope Con Hilo! The somersaulting dive over the top rope splattered Sky on the floor to the cheers of the crowd. Almasy lifted Sky back up, and promptly fired him into the ring. Seymour climbed back up onto the apron, and then up to the top rope Sky rose. Missile Dropkick connects! Seymour quickly scrambled over and covered. 1! 2! Kickout! Sky shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs out. Seymour’s withering aerial assault had caught him off guard. Even as he rose again, he saw Almasy preparing for a dropkick. This time, however, Kasper was able to swat it out of the way, making Seymour land on his stomach. The tide had finally turned. Kasper pressed his newly found advantage, dropping a hard elbow to the small of Seymour’s back. A second followed. Sky stayed on the ground, pressing a knee into Almasy’s back, and pulled back on Almasy’s neck and legs. Seymour struggled in the bow and arrow submission, body contorting in ways that it most certainly should not. He was essentially at Sky’s mercy in the move, being a long way from the ropes. Still, Almasy wouldn’t quit, and Kasper saw that clearly. The move had outlived its usefulness, and Kasper promptly let go of the hold. The white-haired Sky locked his arms around Seymour’s waist, pulling him up to a vertical base. A German suplex seemed emminent, but Seymour executed a standing switch. His effort at the German was stymied by Sky’s 260 pounds, and Kasper was soon once again possessor of the waistlock. He lifted Seymour for the suplex, but Almasy clapped his legs around Sky’s sides, and rolled the larger man up. The official dropped where he stood, and laid down the count. 1! 2! Kickout! Sky wriggled free of the pinning predicament. Almasy was a slippery opponent. Kasper needed to get hold of him in order to beat him. And the easiest handle to grab was flowing behind him. The flagrant hair pull took Almasy right back down to the canvas. Moving in quickly, the referee chastised Sky, but took no real action. Kasper used the advantage to lift Almasy up, and hit a textbook vertical suplex. And he held on. Kasper lifted the sagging Seymour back up, and once more hooked the Final Fantasy. Another vertical suplex. Sky released the grip, and floated over to a cover. One. Two. Kickout. Kasper frowned slightly. Almasy was as good as advertised. He suddenly brightened, being of the school of thought that a hard fight was better than an easy one, and lifted Seymour up, arms lacing around his waist again. This time, a belly to belly suplex was the intent. Almasy, however, fired a series of elbows to Kasper’s face. The blows jarred Sky’s grip free, and Seymour returned fire with a forearm. Sky, to Seymour’s surprised, countered with a left hand. The blatant hair-pull from earlier, coupled with the closed fist, left Almasy little hope that the match would continue to be a technical affair. So Seymour simply threw a kick to the abdomen that fell a few inches short of its purported target. Kasper grabbed his groin in pain, and Seymour quickly moved in, before the referee could check to see if the strike had been legal. Double-underhook. Fallen Wings! The Final Fantasy scored with his sitout double-underhook face driver. He savored the sight of Kasper face down on the canvas, before covering. One! Two! As it turned out, he had savored exactly a second too long. Kickout. Sky’s size and conditioning allowed him to kick out of the manuever, eyes glaring up at Seymour, anger in his expression. Almasy did the first thing that came to mind. He backed away. Sky wasn’t so willing to let this happen. Once again, he charged, this time connecting with his intended offensive manuever, a hard lariat that sent Seymour up and over the top rope to the outside. The official dutifully began his count, as Kasper slid outside the ring to continue his assault. “1!” Grabbing Seymour by the back of the head, Kasper Sky sends Almasy face-first into the ring apron. “2!” Sky grabs hold of Almasy’s arm, and prepares to Irish whip him into the ring post… “3!” However, the move is reversed, and Sky’s body smacks the steel instead. Almasy stands over him, shaking his head in disgust. “4!” Seymour begins to stomp away at Kasper’s head, driving his size 10 boot repeatedly into his nemesis. “5!” Sky catches one of the stomps, gets to his feet, and uses the caught leg as leverage to pull Seymour into another devastating lariat. “6!” Kasper mounts his opponent, and begins to fire right hand after right hand to Seymour’s head, who covers up as best he can. “7!” Almasy manages to reverse, rolling on top of Sky, and returning fire with several hard blows of his own. “8!” The tangle of bodies slowly rise, throwing rights and lefts at one another, as the crowd begins to realize that neither is focusing on the referee’s count. “9!” And with the countout one number away, both men begin brawling up the aisle, exchanging rights and lefts, leaving the official no choice. “10!” It seems as if neither man cares. The vicious punches continue, as both men fight it on top of the stage. Well, it’s certainly one way to make a debut… Winner > No Contest
Without Cessation
The Fear of the Unknown
Gingerly raising her head to lock eyes with her partner, NATALIE QUINSTON grumbled at Fejona's suggestion. Why? Wellll, let me fill you in; days ago at the King Of Ages PPV, Natalie Quinston got absolutely demolished at the hands of Quincy Mama, in that clusterfuckish Handicapped Match. Somehow, Natalie was released from the hospital just 24 hours prior. The doctors there must have watched too much Kingdom Hospital. But anyways, back to the point. Natalie was none too pleased at Fejona's inference. As far as Natalie was concerned, Fejona didn't really help Natalie out too much in the showdown with Quinton May. And because of that, Natalie was completely hammered with a steel chair (and the steel steps) by the TV Champ. Naturally, Natalie's response was rather sour: "I'm fine. I can do this." Fejona grinned as she sat down on the bench. She knew Natalie was somewhat pissed at her, but the Cambodian Femme Fatale figured SHE had more of a reason to be infuriated. Even though the plan was to weaken the Canadian Gladiator up for the toy surprise that eventually turned out to be Joseph McMillan, Fejona would have liked to have walked away with the TV Title. Because, after a rather impressive start to her professional career -- which began, coincidentally enough, with a loss to Karen Pembridge in a Handicapped Fight at tA's pAin IV extravaganza (Natalie Quinston was also her partner in that encounter, but... meh, just go read that show if you can!) -- Fejona had been on something of a losing streak. And for someone who had a couple of really impressive outings in her short time in tA, Fejona hated how spotty her ACW record was. "Just looking out for you. The doctors DID say you need your rest. In any event, we don't even know who we're going up against. I've been hearing about there's a sudden influx in talent, but aside from that, I have no clue who we're taking on tonight. Wonder why it's even a tag team match; we don't have a division for that." Fejona explained, curious as a feline. Natalie Quinston shrugged her shoulders (wincing as she did; that's how much pain she was in!), and bent back down to continue rubbing medicated oil all over her shins. Then, quite abruptly, she stood up and tossed her bottle of medicated oil aside. Something suddenly popped up in her head. She too had heard about there was a huge influx of new wrestlers coming into the promotion over the last few days. One of those rumours said something about former Asylum Team Champions possibly showing up on COURAGE. So, she came to a hasty conclusion. "What if our opponents are... SPLINK?" YAY, SPLINK! That would be wonderful, if Splink had finally shown up in a place other than tA. Of course, Fejona frowned. She did not like Splink. Fejona & Natalie, if you didn't know, had a really competitive feud with Splink that commenced when a Team Titles showdown in early January ended with Splink taking the win, thanks to a certain Heather f'in Vergas. Ever since then, Fejona made it her mission to beat Splink for the Team Titles. Especially when Joe Campbell, the proverbial evil master of the Cambodian Femme Fatale, demanded that Fej and Natalie dethrone Splink as the champions. The feud ultimately culminated at the Uncivil War PPV in March. "Na, I don't think so." Fejona finally said, but quite unconvincingly. Old memories rushing back, and all. Exchanging looks with Natalie, the Rogue Slayer was now a little bit nervous. Never was she and Natalie able to defeat Splink. Never. And now, on the backs of a disappointing defeat to Quinton May just days ago, the Cambodian Femme Fatale was facing another possible defeat. Definitely not how she wanted to rebound. Standing up, Fejona took a glance at the clock on the wall, and then back at Natalie Quinston. The look of trepidition on the latter's face more or less summed up how Min was suddenly feeling about this match, and with great doubts, the two women exited their locker-room. Ready or not, their match was coming up in a couple of minutes. And how desperately they needed a win.
Fall of Adam vs. Fejona Min and Natalie Quinston As the last of Fejona's lyrical assault was complete, the opening riff of Skindred's "Nobody" pulsated off the arena walls. The attending fanbase sat in confusion, focusing their attention on the vacant entryway. "My
sound we come to take over Nuff
of them have come and them all try dog we out, Nobody, nobody gets out alive" From within the darkness, they were born. Massive silhouettes presenting themselves for all the innocent to gaze upon. The room was painted crimson, with only a single spotlight on the remorseless beasts. Their walk was menacing, and their aura cold. Stopping atop the entranceway, the lifeless eyes of Fall of Adam pierced holes through Min and Quinston. Fejona's natural confidence had been deterred as she reluctantly stared at the former Asylum inmates. Next to her, a quiver trembled through Natalie's body at the mere sight of the two men who respectively were over twice her size. The Cambodian Femme Fatale was no stranger to Gacy and Oswald. The trio shared time within the horrific confines of Joe Campbell's regime. Never actually stepping into the pit against one another, FoA always maintained a sick obsession with Ms. Min. Oswald in particular. After several calculating moments, the duo began their journey to the ring. It had been over a year since either man had the chance to destroy the life of another, and they could taste blood. Far too many nights without approval to control the fate of a being other than themselves had made their passion grow stronger. Before them stood their sacrifices. Two gorgeous, yet deadly individuals hell bent on proving themselves here in ACW. This mattered not to Fall of Adam. What they had planned for these women would not be a contest, it would be a beautiful massacre that no one would soon forget. As the fighters entered the ring, the crowd watched on in anticipation. Fejona and Natalie were not considered the most popular pair in ACW, and the fans could sense their demise. Although Fall of Adam hadn't garnered the most positive attention in their short careers, the destruction of Min and the firecracker, Quinston, made the crowd gitty with joy. The hard beats of "Nobody" slowly came to a hault as Fejona and Natalie discussed which of the two would start. Eventually, the veteran Fejona was chosen, and Natalie ducked out of the ring. In the focused sight of Fejona, Gacy had already taken his place as the warrior to begin this battle. The bell sounded, and it was time for the carnage to begin. Expecting her old rivals, Slapnutz and TMM, Fejona was already in a fighting mindset. Luckily for her, the man standing ten feet in front of her worked the same way. This contest wasn't going to be a technical masterpiece, and she knew what had to be done to take the victory. Unfortunately, she questioned the abilities of her damaged partner. These thoughts all dissapeared as Gacy charged towards her small frame. Fejona immediately sidestepped the lumbering individual, and drilled him in the face with a spinning backfist. The blow caught Gacy off guard, and sent him temporarily realing. As he regained his composure, a smirk lined his face. The martial artist was crafty to say the least. Once again, Gacy charged in a full sprint. This time, Fejona spun, and unleashed a beautiful roundhouse kick ... but Gacy caught it. With Fejona's right leg propped on Gacy's left shoulder, he wrapped his massive arms around her torso. With little difficulty, Gacy hoisted Fejona into the air with full intention of spiking the tiny woman with a vicious powerbomb. However, just before Fejona's head smacked onto the unforgiving surface of the ring, she latched onto his arm, and threw both of her strong legs around his neck. Gacy could feel a sharp pain in his elbow as a tight triangle choke was locked in. A deep grumble exited his throat as he struggled to free himself from the grip. Feeling the fatigue in his arm, Gacy realized he had to do something quick. So with a spurt of energy, he lifted Fejona into the air, and began a trek to the nearest corner at a blistering speed. Fejona's eyes widened in fear as she could feel herself lose control of her own body, and before she knew it, her temple met flush with the fabric of the bottom turnbuckle. An overwhelming "oooooo" echoed through the crowd as Fejona relinquished the hold, and clutched her head in pain. Gacy staggered away from the scene, favoring his right arm. This woman's ferocity intrigued Gacy, and rather than tagging out, he decided to retrieve the limp woman by the hair. Fejona struggled to get free, but it was to no avail as Gacy lit her up with two hard forearms to the side of the head. Soon thereafter, he stood her up, and heaved her into the ropes with a powerful irish whip. Upon her return, Gacy took two steps forward and threw his 13 inch boot up into the air. Not wanting to have the taste of rubber sole in her mouth, Fejona ducked under his foot, and quickly leaped up onto his shoulders. As his foot hit the ground once again, he could feel Fejona's knuckles being laced into his skull. This disoriented Gacy just long enough for Fejona to lunge backward, executing a reverse hurracanrana and spiking Gacy on the top of his head. Before Gacy could even realize what had just happened, Fejona rolled him over to his back. and went for the pin. 1 .. Not even a 2 count, as Fejona's body went flying a quarter of the way across the ring. From the apron, a tenacious Natalie Quinston was screaming for the tag. Apparently she had now completely forgotten about the beating her body had recently taken, and now wanted a piece of this 265 pound son of a bitch. Slightly hesitant, Fejona walked over, and slapped her partners hand. Not skipping a beat, Natalie crawled under the second rope, and began a dead sprint at Gacy. Just as he was about to get back to his feet, a suprisingly painful foot was lodged into his gut. But the attack didn't stop there. Natalie got down on one knee, and began punching and forearming the shit out of Gacy. Even though not well liked by the ACW fanbase, Natalie was getting cheered on for the onslaught. Realizing what was transpiring, Gacy began to fight to his feet. As Natalie became aware that her strikes were doing little good, she got an idea. Just as Gacy got back to a vertical base, Ms. Quinston turned, and ran for the opposite rope. Gacy attempted to wake himself up by shaking his head, and as his eyes focused on his opponent, Natalie began her journey back towards him. With momentum from the ropes, Natalie went flying through the air, knee first. This left Natalie helpless, and just as she came to the realization this may not have been the best of ideas, Gacy's bicep was placed firmly across her throat. A scream left her body, as she did a full rotation, landing face first on the mat. She was ripe for the picking. One blow and this match could have easily been over ... but that would ruin their fun. Rather than putting an abrupt end to the war, Gacy looked up to his corner, and flashed an evil grin at his partner. Moving no other part of his body, Oswald slowly extended his arm over the top rope. Leaving the lifeless body of Natalie on the mat, Gacy waltzed over, and obliged the Faceless Everyman. A chill crept throughout the arena, as the expressionless mask focused on the beautifully beaten woman. After a moment of admiring her perfectly proportioned physique, Oswald reached down, and retrieved her body. Standing her straight, Oswald took her dead face in his large hands, forcing her to focus into his soulless eyes. As the blurred silhouette came into focus, panic set in. But she couldn't move. Fear had overcome Natalie Quinston to the point of paralysis. Just when you thought Oswald may have some sort of remorse for this woman, he quickly put aside any doubt ... he was pure ... fucking ... evil. Clutching Natalie by the throat, he elevated her dangling boots 3 feet from the ground. Letting all the air escape her body, Oswald stood motionless for a few moments. Watching the helpless woman struggle to get free excited the vile human being, and with that, he propelled her body, with great force, into the canvas. Her head smacked the ground with a deafening thud, as she curled into the fetul position. Once again, there was no pin attempt. Instead, Oswald paced around his prey, playing out his next menacing act. Natalie rithed in pain, but amazingly was still concious. Now, it was time. Grabbing Natalie's hair, he shoved her head in between his thighs. Turning slightly, Oswald motioned to where Fejona had the ability to look him dead in the eye. Not deterring from the cold stare, Oswald applied a stern double underhook on Natalie. He nodded his head in approval at Fejona, and lifted Natalie's body into the air. With the inevitable ending just moments away, Oswald could feel his grip weaken as Natalie's legs slid off both of his shoulders. How a woman who had taken such a beating could manage to fight free of such a giant individual's grasp confused Oswald. Long enough in fact for Natalie to get back to her feet, and deliver a sharp thrust directly underneath Oswald's mask. The Nowhereman grabbed his throat, as Natalie stumbled to her knees. Without hesitation, Natalie scrambled to her corner. But just before she could make the tag, Gacy started to climb into the ring. This commanded the referee's attention, and as the women made the hot tag, Fejona hopped into the ring. Oswald got back to his feet, and was almost decked by Fejona before the referee stopped her. He didn't see the tag ... therefore it never happened. Fejona struggled to get to her enemy as the referee began his 5 count. Natalie had rolled out of the ring, and onto the apron. As the official got to 3, Gacy began to run at Fejona. Fejona saw the lumbering beast, and ducked just in time, allowing Gacy to spill out onto the floor. This infuriated Fejona, and she slid under the bottom rope. As Gacy got back to his feet, Fejona lit him up with a knife edge chop. Back in the ring, the referee informed Natalie that she was still the legal man. Pulling herself up with the second rope, Natalie fell back into the ring. Crawling towards the center of the battlefield, Natalie suddenly stopped, her head still drooped towards the canvas. In front of her, she could see the now standing shadow of Oswald. Before she could scamper away, she felt the damp arm of Oswald slither around her throat. Unable to unleash a cry for help, Oswald sinched in his grip, temporarily elevating Natalie's feet off the ground. Natalie flailed her arms, as the referee noticed the blatant choke. On the arena floor, Fejona was laying it into Gacy. Attempting to fire back, Gacy missed with a clothesline, and turned directly into a well placed roundhouse kick into his ribs. This followed with a vicious backfist to his temple, and a backheel leg sweep that took him to his knees. At her mercy, Gacy's face then was met with not only a hard right hook, but then a right footed roundhouse kick that floored him. Fejona took a moment to admire the carnage she had created, before turning her attention back into the ring. As she turned, it occured to her it was too late. The referee was already demanding the bell be rung. Fejona stood up tall in a warm sweat, and turned her attention to the center of the ring. Lifeless in Oswald's arms was the body of Natalie Quinston. He had finally unclenched his grip, and allowed her body to drop to the mat. Oswald didn't relinquish the grip in time. He didn't care if it cost him the match. The sensation Oswald recieved for destroying the life of another was well worth the disqualification. Fejona couldn't move. She had forgotten just how cold an individual could be when driven by the proper evil. The fact she had just scored the tainted victory didn't matter in the least. Medics rushed to the ring, as Oswald stood motionless. Slowly, he cocked his head at a 15 degree angle, admiring one Ms. Fejona Min. His intentions weren't known, but Fejona didn't really care to find out. Unfortunately, she could foresee many meetings with the vile duo of Fall of Adam. Winner > Fejona Min and Natalie Quinston via Disqualification
Two Questions
Well, not really. Commercials were on, following that gritty battle between Fall Of Adam and the team of Fejona Min & Natalie Quinston (I should really give them a team name; any suggestions?), and the officials were animatedly discussing just went on in that match. More specifically, the people embroiled in the discussion were the two new ACW road agents. For some reason, Bradley Hanson and Michael Brunzwick felt that they had to do something about Fall Of Adam's approach to the match, which eventually saw them lose via disqualification. The rather abrupt end to a pretty nicely-unfolding match killed the crowd's reaction, Bradly felt. Michael concurred wholeheartedly. Let's eavesdrop on what else they had to say about the whole thing, shall we? Fun! "But anyways, that Fejona has a nice ass. I'm somewhat happy that she got 'exposed' at the PPV the other day. Somewhat, because my wife was watching it with me and slapped me when I whistled loudly. Women. Pffft. You know, she's thinking of divorcing me now? Fickle bitch." Hanson bemoaned as he and Brunzwick walked down the hallway. Brunzwick shook his head, empathising. "Oh, don't tell me about it. My girlfriend's the same way. Heck, my ex-wife used to be fickle over the most trivial of matters. But yeahy, that Fejona's a piston. Her curvacious body aside, I think she's got some really good natural talent. She looks a bit jaded compared to when she fought in Asylum, though. I tell ya, I watched her in tA, and she was really good." Hmm, very interesting. The two men continued to engage in lewd conversation regarding the Cambodian Femme Fatale, since they thought Natalie Quinston looked chubby and they'd more or less exhausted all avenues of talk pertaining Fall Of Adam. At that very moment, however, someone who should have been at the arena much earlier just arrived. And, man oh man, was he pissed. He actually wasn't expected to be in attendance, but he'd called Laguna earlier in the day and told the ponytailed Italian that he would indeed be showing up. Of course, Laguna would have expected QUINTON MAY to be on time, but considering the nasty scowl on May's face, I don't think anybody would be asking Quincy why he was so late. Of course, Quinton wasn't interested in what time he was. With determination evident in each step he took, Quinton spotted the two road agents and figured he'd ask them his question. Throwing his duffel bag down onto the floor, The Rising Star proceeded to do just that. Bradley and Brunzwick were too engrossed in their conversation to realise that the man walking up to them was Quinton, but they did eventually look up and smile at the federation's Television Champion. Quinton, though, didn't smile back. Oh, no. On the contrary. He shoved Brunzwick down to the floor, grabbed Bradley Hanson by the collar of his red ACW polo-tee (all staffies are required by Laguna's law to wear them!), and pushed Hanson up against the wall, pinning him there. Now, see, years of binging on junk food and cheap beer has made Hanson a little... say, rotund. And we all know that Quincy Mama is quite a streamlined lightweight. Plus, he doesn't go around attacking officials unless he's been provoked or something. So it was quite a rude shock to see Quinton do what he was doing right at that moment. "Right. I'm going to ask you a question, and you're going to answer me as quickly & efficiently as possible. If I am in any shape or form unsatisfied with your answer, I will maim you. Do you understand me?" Quinton asked in his raspiest voice possible. The dude's obviously ticked from losing the KOA Final in the manner that he did. Hanson, fearing for his life and close to wetting his pants, nodded. Quinton grinned, thinly. "Good. I'm glad we're on the same fucking page here. Now, for my question. Are Fejona Min and 00... Joseph McMillan in the building tonight?" Bradley knew the answer to this riddle. On the floor, Brunzwick continued to writhe like a baby. Damn, Laguna sure knows how to hire the toughies, eh? Dude needs to stop hiring people who claim to have fought in Vietnam, because... let's face it, the US of A got whooped in that war. And I mean utterly and completely whooped. Enough of the history lesson, though. Hanson had a question to answer. "Y-Yes, they are. In fact, Fejona just finished working a tag team match with N-Natalie just a few minutes ago. Fejona and Joseph also cut a promo concerning you very early on in the show." Music to Quincy's ears. Now that he knew that the two people he wanted to strangle were indeed present and somewhere in the very same building he was in, May figured he could get some measure on revenge and also confront his former protege about what was really going on with him. "Great. Perfect. Now I'm going to ask you another question, and if the answer is to my liking, I promise I will let you go. Okay? Do you understand what I'm saying?" Quinton asked, treating Bradley like a child with the condascending tone of speech he was currently employing. Not that he cared how he sounded. Bradley nodded his head, just eager to do what May wanted him to do. Bradley and Laguna were going to have to talk about Quinton May's behaviour and temper control issues (or lack thereof, if you want to get all technical on my candy arse!) His smile widening, Quinton went ahead and asked his second question; "How late into the show am I, and what is the match coming up next?" "W-We are about three-quarters through the show, and we have two more matches scheduled. The upcoming one is God's Forgotten Son versus SilveHAWK, with the United States Title on the line. T-The match that headlines our show tonight is a newcomer, Robert Dundren, taking on Vince Jacobs for the World Title." Hanson replied as quickly and eloquently possible. Quinton cocked his head to the right and pondered. Yes, pondered. The proverbial wheels in his head churned, and it was clear that the Rising Star was plotting something. One that had to do, surely, with Fejona Min and Joseph McMillan. Hmmm. Without even expressing his appreciation, Quinton threw Bradley Hanson aside and walked off. He was officially in 'brood mode', and for those of you unaware what that is, let's just say... you don't want to know. Quincy was a man blinded by rage, and obviously, he was going to find a way to get one over Fejona and Joseph tonight. Bradley Hanson and Michael Brunzwick, meanwhile, picked themselves up. Furious that they'd been treated like mere pieces of shit by the Television Champion. But hey, can you blame Quinton? Now, let's just wait and see what happens next, eh? I bet it'll be EXCITING! :-)
The Privilege of Afterthought
Caring...about this. ACW. For years he had given his body to the company night in night out to fulfill his every dream, and he knew that he got what he put into the company, as his status was truly deserving...but there was nothing else for him to do, was there? 2-time World Champion. Multiple time US Champion. He had won neither the TV or Scorpion because he didn't want to go for them, simple as that. He couldn't compete for the World title anymore due to the clause in the Alias match, so really, what more was there for SilverHAWK to do in a company in which he had seen rise from school halls in Florida in the early days, to competing in Madison Square Garden just a year back. And then he showed his face. "So the prodigal father is still here...won't you just die old man?" K H R I S T A I N K E L L E R SilverHAWK turned 180 degrees to see Keller's newly found prominent smug gracing above his bearded chin. Dressed all in black he nearly camouflaged into the shadows...nearly, but Keller wanted to be seen. "I hear you've got a match with the new King of Ages...it's a win-win for me really, to be honest I hope both of you batter each other senseless and then go at it when you go to the fiery gates my friend." HAWK wasn't paying attention, only looking at the man who more or less had ACW turn against him. "I know what you're thinking...why did I jump ship when the boat wasn't truly sunk? Well, I got a nice fat check from theAsylum, fucks knows where that is now since Campbell's dead, but since no cunt wants to run the maggot invested place, I thought I'd show my face around here again, and why not join the guy who is gonna run it again so soon." SilverHAWK still stood silent...his blood boiling with every syllable spoken my Keller. "Fucking say something you geriatric has-been motherfucker!" ... "You know...I always knew you'd return one day, and I always said to myself the day you did, I'd knock you down so fast you're feet wouldn't even touch the fucking floor...but something just occurred to me." Keller smirked. "Oh yeah, what's that mate? "You're a fucking disease." Keller was startled. "aWc...ACW...theAsylum...places you've invested with your filthy hands and places that have turned to shit because of them. I always blamed you for what happened to me around here, but when I think about it, everyone in this fed should really blame you for the way this has all turned out. Laguna, Boyd, Charlie, Carter...the list goes on...and all you can do is smirk, and make sure that your side of the deal is sweet, that#s all that matters." "Gotta keep yourself alive my friend." "You don't have a life Keller! Hotel to hotel, street corner to street corner, fucking hookers won't replace the feel of a women you love...even when you achieved the greatest thing in your career, King of Ages, you had to fuck that up also. It wasn't our fault you left...you fucked yourself over...you did, nobody else. I fucking pray for the day you walk across the street and don't see and hear the oncoming 18 wheeler." Keller couldn't respond. "I have a fucking match...enjoy your little Pandora party, and I'm sure I'll be seeing you around." And with that HAWK left...and he left with a purpose. Keller? He cleared his throat on the pavement, and walked into the shadows, his purpose for the evening was far from over...far from over.
The audience in attendance within the Rimac arena located in San Diego, California booed as ACW’s newest referee jogged down to ringside at a steady pace. It seemed as if the Internet reports from ACW house shows over the past week had given Mr. Pablo Rogers a bad reputation. Sliding under the bottom ring rope; Rogers looked into the sea of fans and politely smiled before conversing with the time keeper, who was near the apron of the ring. This was Pablo’s time to shine, as the next match would definitely make or break his career, bringing together one of ACW’s influential superstar and a virtual young legend in the making. The house lights in the small venue began to dim; Rogers looked toward the entrance, as a familiar theme blared through the P.A. system, which indicated to the ACW aficionados who was on his way to the ring. Come
on, although ya try to discredit W A K E U P R A G E A G A I N S T T H E M A C H I N E S I L V E R H A W K Still
knee-deep in the system's shit Slowly and confidently; Aaron Jones stepped through the curtain to a chorus of boos. Silverhawk didn’t care too much of what the fans thought, especially in this town, the place where his greatest arch-nemesis was born. Instead Hawk had to focus on the chance he had been given to prove himself, the former ACW champion and hall of fame inductee was faced with a must win situation…against an individual he had never defeated. Well, fact of the matter was that no one had defeated the enigma, whose arrival was imminent. Without further ado, I present -- "You Know You're Right" by Nirvana. I
never bother you. Never
speak a word again. You
won't be afraid of fear. 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 life form 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. Mr. Wallace stayed on the outside, 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. Hawk crouched down in a near by corner, continuing his pre-match stretches while Rogers came over to him to check for foreign objects. Jones easily pushed the assigned ref out of the way; he didn’t want anything obstructing his view of his opponent or was it the title around his waist. Slowly removing his jacket hoodie; GFS let it drop to the floor while his newly won United States championship was instantly recognizable around his waist. As the lights finally came back on, and he rose 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 was set to defend said championship looked up at the crowd with those dead eyes of his and shook his head. In one quick hand motion; God’s Forgotten Son unstrapped his Us title from his waist, handing it off to Rogers who promptly raised it high into the air with both arms. The time keeper’s bell rang seconds prior, whilst both individuals circled one another in the center of the ring, GFS acted fisrt by ducking low before he attempted a single leg takedown that was avoided by the veteran. Hawk shuffle stepped backwards, while GFS tried to take the bulkier heavyweight to the canvas, but Silverhawk did a good job at keeping his distance. However this cat and mouse game would not last long; Hawk knew this being the ring general that he was, taunting the 2004 King of Ages into a test of strength instead. God’s Forgotten Son hesitated at first; slowly creeping towards Hawk before both men locked arms, triggering a loud eruption from the fans. The Miami native’s hidden power allowed him to press GFS’s left knee onto the canvas, but this power struggle did not last long as the youngster escaped…taking Silverhawk to mat in the blink of an eye with a double leg. Masterfully grounding his opponent, GFS continued where he left off weeks ago by latching onto Silverhawk with an elevated left arm bar submission, expect for the fact that Hawk made it to the ropes. Rogers grabbed the current Us champion by the shoulder, demanding that he release the hold as the referee’s count reached four before GFS obliged...not before sending a stiff kick to Hawk’s shoulder blade. Upon getting back to his feet; Silverhawk shook his arm to circulate the blood, he didn’t appreciate the dirty tactics of GFS...so a rake to the face and a mighty punch to the jaw evened things up. Staggering backwards to the parallel ropes; God’s Forgotten Son charged forward only to be taken off his feet, by a running knee lift to the solar plexus from the former ACW champion. It was apparent that the virtual known was still feeling the painful affects of the KoA ladder match finale, slowly rising to a vertical base as Hawk drove a vicious uppercut to the body of GFS. With his opponent double over; Jones snap marred the aforementioned seat first onto the canvas, slowly bouncing into the near ring ropes as he sent a jolt to the spine of God’s Forgotten Son, in the form of a stomp. The so called ‘the Past, the Present & the Future of the company’ held the back of his neck as Hawk went right into the cover, Rogers slide into position but GFS kicked with authority, frustrating the multiple time champion greatly. Silverhawk got to his feet first, pulling the mat technician up with him; although the KOA countered unbelievably into another singe arm laced takedown. Once Hawk was trapped on the mat, GFS dropped several knees into the old school wrester’s bicep. On the outside, Mr. Wallace nodded proudly as he observed from afar as his pupil head butted Silverhawk in the upper spine; discarding his game plan of the arm to pin point his real target. With the back of the neck exposed, God’s Forgotten Son kneeled lower to link both his hands together with a variation of a Camel Clutch and Dragon sleeper. As Hawk's spine began to contort and stretch backwards, the end seemed inevitable. “Dirty Window” by Metallica This was quite the unexpected turn of events, wouldn’t you say? Two fierce individuals battling in out for the coveted United States champion as a possible contender named Keller looked on, making his way down the aisle with a steel chair in his possession. Back in the ring, GFS gradually lifted Hawk upwards, dropping him square on his left knee with a Dragon backbreaker. The champion hooked the outside leg; Rogers slapped the canvas quickly but only reached the count of two. If you think Rogers got a rest break...then you’re fooling yourself as God’s Forgotten Son attempted several pin falls consequtively, which resulted in Silverhawk escaping convincingly. Noticing the soreness building in the back of the former Us champion’s head; GFS waited for Hawk to get back to his feet, prior to grabbing the latter with an hangman’s neck breaker as he dropped Silverhawk onto his knee. Quite innovative move from the emotionless stranger, or Keller seemed to think so as he smirked whilst his Florida neighbor writhed in absolute pain. GFS threw himself onto his opponent, starting Rogers’ count. ONE TWO THR—No, Hawk kicked at the last second like expected in this high profile match. The ACW newcomer again reached down to situate the veteran for the next maneuver, he had in his dangerous arsenal of holds. While bringing his opponent to a vertical base; GFS knocked back Silverhawk’s head with a flurry of European uppercuts, but his last uppercut was countered into a sneaky thumb to the eye from Hawk. At this point, the latter had to do anything he could think of to turn the tide of momentum...Jones knew that his resilient adversary would recover, then the moment would be lost. And he was right; God’s Forgotten Son was closing in swiftly but Hawk was able keep the machine like wrestler down with quick boot, botched DDT combination. Silverhawk went right into the cover; GFS slide the right shoulder out from underneath at two 3/4, and a simultaneous sigh of relief could be heard from the Californians in attendance. Visibly pissed off, the former Team ACW member jumped to his feet as he stomped the holy hell out of GFS, who struggled to get up and every time he did...Hawk either took him down a reverse elbow smash, a haymaker or a scoop body slam in the center of the ring. The fans did not enjoy this beat down one bit; however the man who sat on the outside did. Whether it was the cagey ring veteran Hawk, or the amazing rookie that stole the title he so rightfully deserved, Keller really didn’t care who he would face later down the road…as long as Khristian Keller was next. Until that day came; ‘Your favorite wrestler’s favorite wrestler’ grew impatient, wanting to know who he would face already. “Stop being a pussy, and finish this already Hawk,” Keller yelled rudely as he caught the former ACW champion’s attention, that just power slammed God’s Forgotten Son and dropped a knee onto his forehead. As GFS sat propped up on the canvas; Hawk locked in a rear side headlock, trying to sap all of his opponent’s energy as he took a breather...but while the audience stomped their feet, the current KoA slowly regained his composure. Stiffs back elbows to the gut made Silverhawk’s grasp lose its intensity; it was only a matter of time before the hungry GFS would break out, which he did with a combination of an European uppercut and backfist. Charging into the parallel ropes; the forgotten son fired back on all cylinders, swinging his right arm to take down Hawk with a nasty hooking clothesline (Benoit style), but the hall of fame superstar ducked in time. However nobody could predict what came next as GFS waited for Silverhawk to get back up, dropping him with a Neck breaker into a DDT. Pretty resourceful wouldn’t you say, as the aforementioned used his power afterwards to pull Hawk up, both men now toe to toe, prior to GFS sending a hard boot to the breadbasket of his adversary...followed by Running Snap Swinging Neck breaker. The crowd cheered as God’s Forgotten Son rose to a vertical base without delay, surveying the damage that he caused seeing that Hawk was remarkably getting back up and the referee, Pablo Rogers...well he too was down on the canvas as a stray GFS foot struck him. Not caring at all for the well fare of these individuals, the youngster went back to his game plan, dropping a measured elbow into Hawk’s neck. In the midst of that was occurring in the ring; on the outside Keller, yeah he was still there, grew impatient...so much so that he slide into the squared circle unnoticed as the former KoA of 2003 blasted GFS from behind with a chair shot. Being the bastard that Khristian Keller was; he could not leave the referee out of all this fun, sending a cruel stomp to Roger’s skull that knocked him unconscious, before he got rid of the chair. Keller dragged God’s Forgotten Son into the center of the ring, where he rocked the latter’s head back with mounted punches, this caused the spectators to shower Keller and even Hawk, who watched from a nearby corner with jeers. Is this the way Silverhawk wanted to win? Needing assistance from a man that he didn’t care for very much, just as Keller lifted GFS into the air...eventually spiking him into the canvas like a land dart with the Tranquilizer. Well, a win is a win, but Silverhawk was going to be the one who would give the forgotten son his first loss, not that spotlight stealing Keller. “Hey, what the fuck are you doing? This is my match.” Hawk waked up to the former aWc champion, shoving him to get his attention. “I’m finishing what you started, bitch.” Keller spat in Hawk’s direction, before the aforementioned returned his attention to a recovery GFS? Yep, you read right but it didn’t matter what the current King of Ages was doing, because everyone’s attention was focused on the two guys that were brawling in the ring. Hawk countered one of Keller’s punches, driving his stone like knuckle in the cranium of this intruder...backing him up with more furious strikes, before shooting him across the ring to the opposite corner. Silverhawk followed in close; avalanching himself onto K2, who stumbled out of the corner, and caught a boot to the stomach for his troubles. Hawk motioned that it was time for a BreakDown but Keller stopped all that with a low kick to the groin. The Pandora member signaled the end, hoisting Silverhawk up into ANOTHER Tranquilizer, nevertheless the former used his weight advantage to counter and suplexed Keller onto the top ring rope. It was only academic that Hawk knocked Keller to the ground below and then continue the business at hand; which was regaining the Us championship he lost almost two years ago, while in the corner of his eye...the forgotten son pulled himself up again. Being the opportunist guy that he was; the former ACW champion grounded GFS to the canvas with a harsh running knee lift, with led right into the double leg Piledriver that planted the youngster. Silverhawk right for the cover, but Pablo Rogers was slowly crawling into position. ONE
Silverhawk crouched low; waiting and waiting for God’s Forgotten son to turn around. The San Diego audience watched in horror as Hawk hooked the BreakDown, leapt forward but GFS stopped his opponent's momentum by waist locking the larger heavyweight. Still in the Ace Crusher setup, the forgotten son managed to counter, pushing Silverhawk off into the ropes. As Hawk bounced off of the parallel ropes, If you thought that bastard Keller had made his exit after being suplexed over the rop...then you were mistaken as he hid by the apron, revealing himself by smashing his retrieved steel chair into the former ACW champion's skull. Aaron Jones felt the newly returned pain to his neck; staggering forward where God’s Forgotten Son awaited for Hawk, kicking him stomach as he swept the latter's legs out from underneath him with the Leg Sweep DDT. The force of both men's weight was taken directly by Silverhawk's vertebrae; instantly causing Joens to writh in agony. But do you think GFS gave a shite? Absolutely not, as he lifted Hawk vertically into the air before driving said superstar with an inverted stalling brainbuster. Rogers looked concerned and surely did not want anyone to get hurt in this contest, demanding that the United States champion lay off the neck. God's Forgotten Son however looked coldly in Keller's direction, who was making his way to the back...and then a sign of emotion formed across the stone faced youngster. Retribution
was what the unknown youngster wanted, and he knew that he was going
to get it, even if Hawk had to pay the price. God's Forgotten bent
Hawk down and hooks both of his arms so they were behind Hawk's back.
Linking both of his arms together, GFS was able to lift his opponent
off of the canvas vertically, before spiking SilverHAWK's head into
the canvas with Selfless Retribution. The crowd gasped as Hawk
took the full force on the top of his head, which prompted GFS to go
for the cover.
And that was it. Gods' Forgotten Son had retained his title, snatching it quickly from Pablo Rogers grasp as the champion exited the ring. The audience shook their head in disbelief; something devious was released from deep within the ACW newcomer, who jumped over the guard rail as he pushed spectators from his path. Winner > Gods Forgotten Son
You're Going To DIE
The fans were already excited, especially after having seen another titanic battle between SilverHAWK and God's Forgotten Son. The US Champion retained his title, and now, the audience were wondering if Vince Jacobs could do the same. Of course, his opponent was but a mere rookie. And besides, they all wanted to see their hero, Alias, be the one to win the World Title off of Jacobs. Understandable. But quite suddenly, as the ringside area was being cleaned up and prepp-ed for the all-important Main Event between Robert J. Dundren and Vince Jacobs, the lights dimmed a little. Odd. Even the road agents backstage, Bradley Hanson and Michael Brunzwick, thought this was a little bizarre. Then, Hanson remembered something. And so did the A/V technician. It all added up to "Make A Move" by Lostprophets blaring over the speakers. The fans stood to their feet and cheered wildly. Sure, the Canadian tour was long done & over with, but Quinton May had his fair share of fans in the United States. At least, those not brainwashed by May's clone's propaganda over in tSC. And, oh, can't forget the cronies of a certain 'no-nonsense' New Yorker with a hard-on for his mother. Think his name is William Morgan, or something. At any event, Quinton May stormed out from behind the curtains, his face devoid of emotion. Although, if you've been keeping up with the Canadian Gladiator's adventures, you'd know that he has every right to be infuriated and incensed. Seems he's always like that at an ACW event nowadays, eh? Nonetheless, Quinton -- simply decked out in a sleeveless black t-shirt with dark blue jeans and black shoes -- hurried down the ramp and slid under the bottom rope into the ring. Immediately, he demanded for a microphone, without even acknowledging his adoring fans. Tonight wasn't about them. Oh, sure, they were still behind Quincy Mama even with his defeat to God's Forgotten Son in the Final of the KING OF AGES 2004 Tournament. But, the Rising Star really wasn't in the mood to dwell on whether the fans were still on his side or not. It didn't matter to Quinton anymore. Quincy didn't wish to bother about the superficial aspects. He just wanted to get some business done. And in the process, get some... answers. "Alright. So you all know by know what happened at the PPV on Sunday. I took on Fejona Min and that cockwhore, Natalie Quinston in a Handicapped Match. They laid down the gauntlet for me, and dangled the promise of answers if I won. So, you know what I did? I took every measure possible to ensure that I would win, and thereby, gain my expected reward. Because that's what people do -- live up to their promise." Quinton began as soon as he got his mic & his theme song faded out. Naturally, the crowd hushed themselves and watched as the cagey Canadian Gladiator began to pace about. "But, hey, guess what happens after I pin Fejona to win the match and retain the prize they tried to rob off of me? That's right, they flee. I really should have seen it coming, but that's now besides the point. Flash forward to later that night. I go through HELL to wear down a man who's much bigger than me and is currently on a sensational winning streak. I have the KOA crown in my crasp. Fuck, I can almost smell the scepter as I climbed the ladder, ready to accept my destiny as the KING OF AGES 2004. But, wait, something happens. Fejona Min comes out, shakes her tits at me, and tells me that she does indeed have ONE answer for me. Turns out, it'll be the most important answer I ever get. And from behind comes... my fallen soldier. A young man that I raised as if he was my own. A young man that became my legal responsibility last year. After last year's bomb blast, he had been cooped up in the hospital. I guess, though, I lost track of my scheduled hospital visits because up until last Sunday, I was under the impression that Joseph was still pretty much hospitalised, due to his damaged cornea. I guess I was wrong. I guess I'd negelected what was dear to me. And I paid the ultimate price. Losing that match at the PPV? Not important. It's the circumstances surrounding the loss. Joseph McMillan was a young man I took under my wing because... I could. I had to. I don't want to go into detail about that. Let's just say, I saw something in Joseph, and I took him in. One thing led to another, and he ended up becoming my surrogate child. I then moulded him. Trained him to become what I was becoming. A fighter. I wanted Joseph to fight the good fight, and gave him a codename, so that he'd have a sense of identity. I wanted him to forget the mediocrity of his old live, and embrace the exciting new prospects of his new life. Never did I anticipate whatever happened at the Tribute Show last year. And when I heard the extent of Joseph's injuries, I cried. I admit it, I -- a grown man -- cried. I had let Joseph down. But I was determined to watch him get nursed back to health, until the day where I'd be able to take him back and once again raise him as if he were my own flesh and blood." Pausing for a bit to collect himself, Quinton lowered his head and closed his eyes. This was quite obviously very touchy subject for May to talk about. Everybody knew this. All the fans in the stands knew this. At least, most of them did, being long-time followers and all. They remembered how Joseph, a.k.a 006.392, blossommed as a human being under Quinton's tutelage and guidance. Now? Everything had changed. Joseph was now the enemy. Still pacing about in the ring, and now with his eyes open again, May continued. "How quickly things change. Now, it seems as if Joseph has been taken in by the lure of the dark side. This... higher power who has it out for me has been planning this all along. Fejona was just a distraction. One vital to ensure that Joseph was fully prepared. And I suppose last Sunday was the right time for Joseph to strike. Being blind apparently doesn't matter to him. Because all the brainwashing he's obviously endured has made him believe that I am HIS enemy. That I am responsible for all that has happened to him this past year. Well, you know what? I don't want to debate that. I'm past talking. If this is the way it unfolds? I say let's just get this over with. Screw all the elaborate schemes and the cryptic bullshit. I've been saying this same thing for the last six weeks or so -- if this higher power really wants to fight this war, I'm game. I'm more than game. I want to end this, right here... right now. Fejona. I know you're still linked to whatever masterplan has been devised to aid my untimely demise. I know you still hold some control over Joseph, or else, you wouldn't still be here. ACW was never about competition for you. It was about speeding things along, and making sure you did enough damage to me so that Joseph could pick up the pieces and destroy me. So, if you're still hanging around here, I suspect you and only you can lead me to Joseph, because I've been having a torrid time trying to track him down. In which case, I've got five simple words for you: GET THE FUCK OUT HERE, NOW." Alrighty, then. We were finally getting somewhere. Quinton May stopped pacing and stood in the middle of the ring, his eyes fixated on the stage. Waiitng for his demand to be heard. Quincy wanted Joseph's head on a platter, and he wanted it NOW. But, quite expectedly, there was to be no answer. The crowd continued to mumble excitedly amongst themselves, wondering if Fejona would come out with Joseph by her side. They HAD seen the duo earlier on in the show. Of course, Joseph had stormed off after laying down the 'law of the jungle'. But May didn't know that. And that was why he grew angrier in the ring. The veins in his head? They were close to exploding. Quinton tightened his grip on the microphone, and raised it back up to his lips, enraged that he had to repeat himself. "GET THE FUCK OUT HERE, NOW!" Could you tell that Quinton was close to snapping? No? How about the feral frothing at the mouth? Yeah, everybody in attendance were officially frightened right now. They had never seen Quinton this insanely furious before. But hey, there's always a first time for everything, right? And if you're Quinton May, I think you're entitled to losing it. Literally. Just as he was about to scream out his demand again, though, "Lucky You" by The Deftones started up over the sound system. Out came the Enchanting Delinquent herself, looking a little worse for wear following that tag team match with fellow former Asylum-ites, Fall Of Adam. Fejona was especially worried about Natalie Quinston's weakened condition. Now, however, there was another thing to fret over. She had no intention of duelling with Quincy Mama anymore. Her agenda with him, as far as she was concerned, concluded when Joseph McMillan did his dirty deed last Sunday during the Ladder Match for the KOA 2004 crown. Once again, Quinton didn't know this. Which posed a problem for Fejona Min. "Uh, Quinton? I guess you didn't get the bulletin, but you and I? There was nothing there. It was just me stringing you along, softening you up. You're making it out as if we were a couple. Remember when I tried to trick you into thinking I had the hots for you? It mirrored the rest of our 'relationship' -- it was a simple and well-executed scam!" the Cambodian Femme Fatale explained, but as calmly as she could. She knew she was potentially in trouble here. Fejona's eloquently-placed explanation didn't go down well with Quincy, though. Watching as Fejona remained on the stage, the Canadian Gladiator walked towards the ropes, his eyes burning with the desire to mutilate the Cambodian Femme Fatale once and for all. He had beat her senseless at the PPV few days ago, but now, the craving had reached new lusty heights. In short, Quinton's thirst for vengeance had become insatiable. "Quit the chatter, you slut. You expect me to believe the only reason you're here is to resume your career in this industry? You are a fighter, true and true. You were a member of that terrorist-like organisation, Asylum. All you Asylum-ites end up being the same egocentric bloodhounds. You don't care about wrestling. You yourself just admitted that the only reason you came to ACW was to pull the wool over my eyes. Now that your part of the deal is over, you've become irrelevant. Yet, you're still here. I'm still talking to you. Which leads me to believe that you still have a vital part to play in this grand masterplan of whoever's masterminding this entire scheme. And now, your role is to continue keeping a watchful eye over Joseph. Like a watcher. I know you know where Joseph is. I've been told that he is in the building tonight. So, get him out here. I need to speak to him. I know trying to reason with him isn't going to work; you and whoever's involved in this convulted plan have brainwashed him too damn much. And as such, the only thing that's going to work? Kicking the living shit out of his arse. SO. Enough of the games... ... give me Joseph, right fucking NOW." Fejona remained tight-lipped on the stage. This situation was spiralling out of control at an alarming rate. Unlike previous confrontations with Quinton May, Min could feel that this one was going to go ugly in a bad, bad way. Especially when she knew exactly what was going to happen in about two minutes. "I'd love to help you, Quinton." Fejona started, taking a couple of steps down the ramp as she did so. "But unfortunately, Joseph stormed on out of here after our little interview by Jenna earlier on. He didn't expect you to show up tonight, and neither did I. At any rate, Quinton, Joseph's not here; I tried calling him after what happened to Natalie just now. But he didn't answer. I'm afraid all your demanding and screaming are in vain, Quincy. Because the simple truth is, Joseph is not in the building." BOOO, went the crowd. They wanted to see the showdown. Quinton? He bit down on his lower lip, hard, and started to breathe heavily. This was not what he wanted. More games, more obstacles. The Rising Star was tired of it all. He just wanted to let loose on Joseph and get a proper explanation, from the horse's mouth. But noticing Fejona suddenly smiling, Quinton knew something was up. That was merely a prelude, and suddenly, blinding white light engulfed the arena, piercing the eyes of everyone. In his heart of hearts, Quincy knew that this was... Joseph. Then, the chime of a bell could be heard. Followed by the stylings of "Kashmir" by Led Zeppelin, once the punishing white strobe lights ceased their assault of everyone's vision. Quinton dropped his microphone and took a couple of steps back, awaiting Joseph to come running out from the back. Alas, Fejona Min had one last bit to add before the ass-kicking commenced. "Oh, Quinton. Poor, naive Quinton. Firstly, I lied. And secondly, do you really think you're going to win this unwinnable war?" Something about the word 'naive' tipped Quinton off. Oh, yeah, so did the muffled screams & cries of warning from the crowd. Instinctively enough, Quincy turned around, and realised that he indeed was a naive lil' motherfucker. Because standing right behind him, in all his white-clothed glory, was... Joseph McMillan. The Blind Slayer. And, oh, look. He had a sledgehammer in his hand. Same one he used to deny Quincy the chance of becoming ACW's King Of Ages 2004, new United States Champion, and #1 Contender to the World Title? Quite possibly. Had to be a reason Quincy was rooted to the ground; paralysed, for a lack of a better term. Joseph, though, wasn't paralysed. Just blind, and pissed off at Quinton. "Hi, Quinton." the young kid remarked. May raised an eyebrow... before he got whomped in the head. BY THE SLEDGEHAMMER!. Hey, a man who storms into a ring with a sledgehammer IS going to use said weapon. Like, fucking duh, you morons! Down went Quincy, blood gushing out of his forehead. On the ramp, Fejona Min's sadistic laughter only doubled in intensity with the crowd jeering their arses off. They were an antagonistic bunch to begin with, and to be subject to their hero getting blindsided by an enemy once again was, well, too much for them to take. McMillan? Oh, he was far from finished. He raised his foot and forcefully stomped down on May's chest, his pupil-less eyes staring a hole through Quinton's own (normal) eyes. The Canadian Gladiator tried to say something to his former comrade and brother-in-arms, but Joseph would not have any of it. Tonight, as on Sunday, he would have the last word. And the last laugh. "You're going to DIE, Quinton." Joseph murmured, loud enough so that Quincy could hear. Then, McMillan raised the sledgehammer above his head and... ... put Quinton May to sleep, as precisely as humanly possible. Ladies and gentlemen. What you've just seen transpire? Just the tip of the iceberg called 'vengeance'. And let me tell you; that iceberg? It's bigger than the one that sunk the god-damn Titanic.
‘This is Now’ start to play over the PA system as the stoked Robert Dundren comes walking out looking as if he thinks he might of bit off more then he’d be able to chew. He is wearing black wrestling trunks with Dundren in a bright orange on the front. He was also wearing a black tee shirt with Now... on the front and is my time on the back. He stood on top of the entrance ramp as blue sparks started to fly out of the topsides of the ramp. Soon they where joined by blue smoke that covered the entire entrance ramp. Robert started to walk down to the ring, through the smoke and through the sparks, an expression on his face that was a mix of happiness and fear. He rolls into the ring and takes his shirt off as he paced around the ring like a caged animal waiting for Vince Jacobs to come out. Suddenly the lights went out on the acw-tron as something flashed. 'Ring Superstar' started to blast over the PA system as Vince slowly made it to the stage posing for the fans on the stage. The fans let Vince have it with the loudest boos of the night. You ain't man enough to give his fuckin' title a shot Feel the Starbuster ruckus, Ego Checkin' ya ass Money hungry muthafuckas gettin' wrecked in a flash The bank accounts is thick and his pockets is fat Peep the smirk on his face when he watchin' you tap A 3-Count or submission, which steez you wanna go? Cuz this muthafucka right here's the reason there's a show. Vince slowly walked down the aisle flipping off the fans at ringside smiling and holding his newly won ACW World Heavyweight Title high for the fans to see. He rolled into the ring and posed for the crowd as the pyros went off behind him as he held the title high in the air. Jacobs stood in the ring and looked at his opponent for tonight. This new kid to the ACW had the audacity to even acknowledge SVJ and Vince wasn’t going to have it. He was going to break this new comer for disrespecting him in his house and wrecking his celebration earlier in the night. The athletes circled each other momentarily, before clashing in the center of the ring with a stiff collar and elbow tie up. Both men jocking for position, as SVJ takes the left arm of Dundren and with lightning quickness, slaps on a front wristlock. Dundren screamed in pain as he twisted around and kicked the Champion in the gut. RJD snatched Jacobs’ head and rammed his knee into his opponent’s skull. He staggered backwards as he fell down into the corner and looked to be getting mad as Dundren looked to be building confidence in him self. Dundren didn’t want to give the champion a chance to get up so he went on the attack and charged full speed into the corner hoping to catch him off guard, but SVJ was ready for him. Jacobs grabbed Robert as he was about to be nailed with a spear and side stepped him as he hit shoulder first into the pole with such force he fell out of the ring. Rex Blankford started to count him out. 1… SVJ was not going to let this smart mouthed green horn out of his misery that easily. He rolled out of the ring forcing Rex to restart to count. 1… Jacobs grabbed Dundren by his hair as he pulled him up and spat in his face and started to trash talk him. 2… SVJ tried to whip Robert into the pole again but was denied as Robert reversed it and sent him flying into the pole headfirst. Dundren saw this as his opening and he rolled back into the ring and climb the top turnbuckle. Jacobs got up dazed as Dundren came off the top rope attempting a Somersault Plancha. Jacobs caught him and looked to try a power bomb, but that too was reversed in to a hurricanrana or so it seemed till RJD showed the champ he had a few tricks up his sleeve as he nailed 10 punches right between the eyes as he was flipping him. The champ looked to be down and out from it as the rookie rolled him back in the ring and climb up top. He looked around and then sprang up into the air going for a 450 splash, as he was about to hit his target it moved and he was treated to a plate full of canvas. Jacobs decided he might as well end this before the rookie, got the chance to get a lucky break and nail something he wasn’t expecting. SVJ rolled over and cockily covered Dundren with his back on RJD’s gut and nonchalantly grabbed the leg. 1… 2… 2 ½… Robert barley slid his shoulder up as he appeared to be really shaken up. The Champ couldn’t believe Dundren kick out as he starts to yell at Rex Blankford that it was a three count. Robert slowly got to his feet and climbs to the top rope again. This time Jacobs wasn’t paying attention and Rex Blankford saw Robert leap their direction so he dived out of the way as Jacobs was nailed with a missile drop kick. Dundren seemed to be getting some of the momentum back. RJD got to his feet and threw Jacobs into the corner. He ran towards him and this time nailed a spear as the champ fell back into the corner. The Challenger saw his chance to hit a high impact move and took it. He looked to be setting up a superplex. Both men where on the top rope as he took his hand off SVJ’s right shoulder and as they started to fall like a suplex he landed a DDT looking almost like a super brain buster. “HEART ATTACK” Dundren yelled as he bounced from the mat 1… 2… 21/2… Oh my goodness will we have a new champion? No we will not as Rex’s hand was going down for the 3 but SVJ rolled his shoulder up just enough to kick out. Dundren looked to be a bit disappointed wondering what he was going to need to do to beat this man. He picked Jacobs up and went for a bone shattering DDT, but on the way down SVJ got out of it sending RJD down to the mat shoulder first with massive force on his right shoulder. The Challenger screamed in agony as he held his shoulder and rolled out of the ring to try and re think what to do now that he only had one good shoulder. SVJ sensing blood went for The Ratings Grabber as he came down on RJD there was a sickening thud heard as both competitors hit the floor hard. Dundren was down and out as Vince rolled him into the ring and went for a pin fall. 1… 2… Good night the show is over there is no way the Green horn will kick out. We aren’t done yet. As if getting a second wind Dundren’s arms flew up as SVJ couldn’t believe it. He Irish Whipped Dundren into the ropes and as he came flying back Jacobs brought up his knee nailing the challenger in the gut making him flip over as his saliva flew out of his mouth and he was on the mat yet again. Jacobs taunted the fans as he climb up the turnbuckle and as he came flying off attempting a five star he crashed and burned as Jimmy some how managed to roll out of the way. Both men were down once again as the crowd started the usual over done chat nowadays of Holy Shit and Rex Blankford hardly being heard started too count both men up. 1… RJD started to sit up as he tried to stand up he fell back down and on top of Jacobs. Rex was quick to start a new count. 1… 2… Jacobs kicked out again as the chants for Dudren started and both men look to be even matched so far. Their sill was one question on every one’s mind though is the champ just toying with this rookie? Well only time would tell us the answer to that question. Jacobs and Dundren got up at the same time and started to throw left and rights with only about half of them hitting the other person enough to make them stagger back wards. Jacobs finally got the upper hand as he was the first to get his wits back enough to actually be able to muster a punch to knock RJD down. Jimmy fell to the mat and he finally got his wits back as he grabbed Jacobs’ feet and pulled him down as he was walking towards him. Dundren then stood up and started to put the boots to the champion sensing this might be his last chance to put this match away. He grabbed SVJ’s leg as he turned and look to be putting him in the sharp shooter. He had it fully locked in and then arched his back and grabbed one of his hands with the hand that wasn’t holding the leg and then grabbed the Phenomenon’s other arm that locked him into some kind of new submission. It looked to be over no one could last in this move for long. No one huh…. This is Vince Jacobs folks! Jacobs
grabbed the ropes to break the hold. Blankford made Dundren release
the move as Jacobs pulled him self out of the ring rubbing his leg and
holding his back. Dundren rolled to the floor and went for a
clothesline on Vince but SVJ ducked the move hitting Dundren with a
drop toehold that sent him face first into the steel steps. Jacobs was
pissed that this kid was still trying to disrespect him so he grabbed
the kid and rolled him into the ring for more damage. 1… 2… 3 NO!! The kid barely got his shoulder up again. Vince slammed the mat in frustration as he picked up the kid by the hair and whipped him into the corner. Jacobs raced into the corner with a big clothesline that rocked the kid. The champ starting to feel it as the Ratings Grabber started to pose for the ACW fans. Vince picked up the kid and placed him on the top rope. Vince hooked Robert and spiked him into the mat with a DDT while the kid sat on the top rope. Vince pulled the kid down off the rope and went for the cover… 1… 2… 3NO!! Vince pulled the kid up off the mat. That may have been a mistake Vince stayed on the attack though as he kept the quicker man off his feet. Vince hooked Robert in a single leg Boston Crab to keep the rookie down. He continued to apply the pressure to Robert’s leg but RJD was making his way to the bottom rope to break the hold. Robert finally made it to the bottom rope to break the hold. Vince broke the hold as he quickly stood to his feet. Vince waited for Robert to pull himself up from the mat before sending him back down with a chop block to the knee. Vince definitely was going to teach this kid a lesson. Jacobs took Robert’s leg and set it on the bottom rope before jumping high in the air and landing on it. Robert screamed in pain from the move as Vince played up to the fans that were booing the Ratings Grabber. SVJ picked up Robert again and drove him down to the mat with an atomic knee drop. But that was the setup for the figure four-leg lock, which Vince put on quickly. Robert’ contorted face said how much pain he was feeling right now. “Give up you bastard.” Vince yelled “NO.” Robert yelled back Robert was not going to give up as the fans started to cheer. He started to try to turn the move over. Vince tried to fight it but he couldn’t resist as Robert finally got the figure four reversed. Now Vince was the one yelling in pain. He reached for the ropes and finally grabbed the bottom ropes to break the hold and stop the pain. Rex separated the men apart as both men were rubbing their legs from the pain. Vince slowly got to his feet as Robert got to his feet with the help of the ropes. Vince raced at Robert but the Future pulled the ropes down and Vince flew over the top rope to the floor. Robert gathered himself as he hopped to the floor. He grabbed Vince and whipped him into the steel steps but Vince reversed it as Robert went flying into the steps. The steps flew to the side as RJD’s shoulder and arm hit the steps. Robert was in pain from that shot. Jacobs slowly stalked Robert and grabbed him from behind and slammed his head into the apron. Dundren was on dream street as Vince grabbed his arm and slammed his shoulder into the apron as well. Vince rolled Robert back into the ring. He rolled into the ring himself as he stood in the corner waiting for Robert to get to his feet. And then he went down. Superstar Kick. Jacobs stood over Robert for a moment, then headed to the corner, preparing to very possibly end it all. He hopped onto the second rope, and then stepped up to the top. He measured Robert, who was still down and showing no signs of moving, then leapt. Jacobs flew through the air, and connected with the Five Star, nailing the frog splash perfectly. Jacobs bounced off of Robert and through the air, put a hand to his ribs, feeling the pain, then shook it off as best he could and crawled back over and hooked his leg. Blankford made the count. 1... 2... 3..Kickout. Robert just managed to get a shoulder up, and Jacobs could be seen muttering a few things that were certainly not suitable for print in your average daily newspaper. Jacobs yanked Robert up to his feet again and hooked him in a suplex position, then twirled his free hand in the air. It was time for the Star Struck, a spinning suplex DDT, his patented finisher. Before he could execute the move, Alias appeared, on the tron. Jacobs released the hold and turned to shout at Alias. Alias looked on with a smile, and then from behind, Robert grabbed Jacobs looking for the Next Step. He hooked Jacobs but Jacobs reversed the move landing behind Robert. SVJ spun Robert around and nailed him with a quick STAR STRUCK. Rex dropped down to count as Jacobs hooked the kid’s leg and looked at the acw-tron toward Alias with a smile. 1... 2… 3… It was over and ‘Superstar’ Vince Jacobs retained his title against a game young superstar. But Jacobs wasn’t done as he went to the floor and shoved the timekeeper out of his chair. He grabbed the chair folded it and slid it into the ring. Vince took his title and dropped down near the face of the kid. “Listen up punk. This is why I am the champ in this place. If you ever disrespect me again you will be in worst pain than you are already in right now. This is MY title and this will be the closest you will ever see it again unless I decided to tattoo it onto your forehead. Fuckin’ rook.” Jacobs was still hot from earlier in the night as he dropped his title on the mat and grabbed the chair. He placed the chair on the mat and picked up RJD from the mat. What came next you asked? STARSTRUCK ON THE STEEL CHAIR The kid was now busted open and Vince loved it. The fans booed the Heavyweight Champion as Vince was laying rights into the kid trying to open him up more. Suddenly someone came running through the crowd wearing a black hooded sweatshirt. People in the crowd knew this was how Pandora got started so they were cautious. The figure rolled into the ring and tackled Vince to the mat. He was swinging wildly as Vince tried to cover up. The figure stood up and took off the hood to reveal his face. ALIAS The former champ was not going to let Vince destroy this kid’s early ACW career. Plus you know he can’t stand Vince right. Vince was able to free himself from the onslaught as he rolled out of the ring holding his jaw. Alias leaned over the top rope pointing to Jacobs yelling as the place was rocking with cheers. Vince just smiled as he pointed back to his long time rival. “Where’s my belt damnit?” Vince yelled to Rex as he brought Jacobs the World Title. Jacobs held the title high in the air and posed for the crowd while looking at Alias who never took his eyes off the champ as SVJ back peddled up the ramp. These two would meet again but if SVJ has anything to say it won’t be the World Title. Winner > Vince Jacobs
The House That I Built...
With Jericho leading the way through the masses of crowd, just after Vince Jacobs' first defense of his title, the noise from that side of the building made the other want to stay for whatever joys this group would bring. They brought. Brian
Carter. The four known as Pandora now stood inside an ACW ring...a place where they should not have been if anyone had spoken to William Laguna lately, and Khristain Keller held on his his microphones also, Pandora were not the rule keeping group it seemed. As the three others stood in parts of the ring, Keller stood in the middle...waiting for the chance to speak, the usual and frequent smirk gracing his face. PANDORA
SUCKS! They wouldn't shut up. "How about you Cali cuntballs, fuck off and die, please..." He lingered on the request and then smiled at Carter as they got even more soured up...hissing their venom at the 4 men who destroyed a series of stars over the past 4 weeks. "How about all of you ACW fans open your fucking eyes to what you see in front of you, and possibly slap those fat little hands of yours and greet us the way we are meant to be greeted." Didn't go down too well either. "I'm going to tell you just who the fuck you are looking at." Keller pointed to Jericho who flicked his long black hair out of his face to give what could only be described as a maniacal ball of laughter. "The maniacal beast known as Jericho will be the reaper of ACW, cleansing it's walls of filth and decay of this company, those people that you cheer, when those people really sneer behind your backs at the sheer fact of performing in front of you. Jericho is the future of this company, with wings of lead he will swoop down on his prey, and end them forever." Keller gave the crowd a quick chuckle as he hyped up his fellow men, and then he pointed to Inferno. Half boo's. Half cheers. "You remember Inferno? How couldn't you? Six foot seven inches of bone crushing power, a Hellraiser who will never be second best to anybody, add that to a former US Champion, and may I add a far better one than who's currently holding it. Who else could end a no DQ match by lifting his pissy little opponent into an overhead light structure...things dreams are made of my friend." Inferno nodded as he leaned against the top rope, as Keller continued. "And I? I'm your fucking worst nightmare...isn't that right SilverHAWK? Isn't that right Alias? Isn't that right, Gods Forgotten Son...he didn't forget you pal, he threw you in with the garbage and you fucking escaped like the little rat that you are. I was the best thing this company had going for itself back before it lost the TV deal, and since then I've appeared in a few woeful promotions, but now I'm back...to help the rightful owner of this place, get back to where he should be." The crowd hissed at his statements, which only made Keller go in for the jugular. "And while I am at it...I don't give a monkey's what anyone has to say about this, I am the reigning King of Ages, never having lost the title in the first place and I didn't even receive my title shot as I was gone before I could get it, but no hard feelings Brian...you had to do what you had to do, but Son, there will come a time and a place where we will decide who the real King is...and then you'll continue your current work as the Jester in this fucking place." And then the mic was passed, to Carter, who was quick off the bat. "When your marooned on a fucking island for 5 months all by yourself you get to thinking about the material things in life...and you get to thinking just how truly amazing it was to have millions of dollars and seven companies to be in charge of, but now that has changed hasn't it William, because my millions of dollars were passed on to fucking charities while I was presumed dead...and my assets? Well...they were stolen from me like I was talking a way in a Brazilian side street. So if you haven't realised already...I want ACW back." He dropped the microphone before sliding out of the ring, Pandora following behind him as the noise levels in the arena grew and grew with every inch closer to the backstage they became, and then they entered, the Tron being the fans' eyes for the time being. "LAGUNA!" Carter screamed at the top of his lungs as they came to a small hallway in the arena, as they turned the corner they seen Hillary Duncan quickly motion someone out of sight, Keller was quickly up to the pace and past Carter as they turned and watched a black Lincoln Continental speed by. Hillary cheered with glee, before Keller grabbed her by the neck and pushed her against the wall. Inferno and Jericho moved into the car park, to see where Laguna was going as Carter brushed up to Laguna's assistant. "So where is he going huh? Maybe you can give us a little hand?" She shook her head. Keller squeezed. Duncan gasped for breath as her eyes were fixated behind Carter's back. "I don't think she likes it rough..." Carter turned. SilverHAWK Keller looked at HAWK, weary from his battle earlier on in the evening, and then turned his attention back to Duncan, as he lifted his right hand, clenching his fist, as HAWK coolly cocked his head to the side. "I don't think you want to be doing that..." Keller smirked. "Oh yeah..." Carter gripped Keller's forearm, a sign to let her go, to which he did as she slid down the wall gasping for oxygen, holding her throat to help ease the pain. "Let's go Keller." Carter briskly moved off into the car park as Inferno and Jericho were waiting, a car already lined up as they entered in pursuit of Laguna for the night. SilverHAWK and Keller took a step forward, going nose to nose, but only one had the usual cocky smile on his face. "You better go, your boss is waiting." That raised a smile, but not before stroking the side of Hillary's cheek was Keller away to join his comrades in the chase of the ACW Owner. SilverHAWK looked down at Duncan, her neck red and still shaken from the incident as she thanked HAWK with a nod and a smile. SilverHAWK looked on as the Pandora vehicle sped off, chasing the nights graces for the ACW Owner. "This is going to be interesting..."
ACW > fWo - You Fuckers Better
Believe It.
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